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Dear Mr. Stilinski,

It is our honor to extend an invitation for you and your pack to our annual convention. This is a great way for packs to form alliances, and for prospective emissaries to meet with alphas to find a good match. This year the convention will be taking place in San Diego. We hope that you and your pack are able to make it. Please see the attached forms for an itinerary of the event and how to RSVP. We do ask that you RSVP as soon as possible to give us a better idea of who to expect. 

Best wishes,

Martin Greyhook, Alpha of the San Diego pack.

Stiles stares down at the letter in confusion. He’s heard rumors of conventions for supernatural creatures, but he never knew if they were actually real. Apparently they are. 

“Why did they send this to me?” he mutters to himself.

“Send what?” Scott asks, sticking his head over Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles has to fight the urge to hide it. He has no reason to. It’s for all of them. He starts to hand the letter off to Scott, but Derek takes it instead, reading it over in silence.

“A convention,” Derek says. “I didn’t know they still did those.”

“Wait,” Stiles says. “You knew they existed?”

“Of course I knew,” Derek says. “My mom went to a lot when I was younger. I tagged along to a few.”

“That’s so cool.”

Derek shrugs, “It’s mostly guest speakers and a chance for packs to catch up.”

“So are we going?” Lydia asks.

Stiles has to admit he’s curious. He especially wants to find out why they sent the letter to him and not to Derek or Scott.

“It could be fun,” Stiles says. “And a good way for us to learn more about inter-pack politics and stuff.”

“Are there parties?” Erica asks.

“There are,” Derek says. “From what I remember they can get pretty interesting.”

Erica grins, “Sign me up.”

“They really don’t know what they’re getting into,” Stiles says as he takes the form back from Derek. “How many should I put down?”

“Ten,” Derek says. “Not everyone can come. It would be chaos, and we need some people here looking after the town.”

Stiles nods and writes down the number, “We’re going to need to book rooms.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lydia says, grinning sweetly. “And Laura will help me.”

“I will?” Laura asks, looking up from the book she’s been reading. She sighs and puts the book down when Lydia just stares at her. “Okay, I will.”

“So why was the letter sent to Stiles?” Isaac asks. “I mean, why not Derek or Scott or one of us?”

“It’s custom to extend the invitation to the packs emissary,” Derek says.

“Okay, that still doesn’t answer the question,” Isaac says. “Stiles isn’t the packs emissary.”

Stiles looks down at his hands. He knows Isaac is just telling the truth. He’s not their emissary. But he hopes to be one day. He’s been training hard with Deaton and has gotten pretty good at using his magic. More than good, actually. He’s pretty damn powerful. 

The problem is, no one else knows it. No one except Laura and Lydia, and that’s only because they’re both too observant for their own good. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles says, cutting in before Derek can say anything. “We’re all going. Let’s leave it at that.”

He doesn’t see the packs look of confusion as he grabs the letter, his jacket, and keys, and leaves, telling them he has something to do. 

Deaton is waiting at the clinic when Stiles gets there. Stiles tosses his keys down and holds out the letter to Deaton, “Do you know anything about this?”

Deaton scans the letter before handing it back over to Stiles, “I might have put in word with some friends of mine that you and the others might be good candidates.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me?” Stiles asks. “Everyone was wondering why the hell I was the one that got the letter.”

“It is generally sent to emissaries,” Deaton says. “Or in the cases where the pack doesn’t have one, someone else with magical abilities.”

“So I’ve heard,” Stiles mutters. “But in case you’ve forgotten, I’m not the packs emissary.”

“Not yet,” Deaton says. “But you will be in due time. You easily could be now if you’d just test tell them the truth, Stiles.”

“It’s not time yet,” Stiles says. “I’m not ready.”

“Well you better figure something out by the time of the convention,” Deaton tells him.

Stiles frowns, “Why?”

All Deaton does is smile, “You’ll see.”

Stiles is tempted to pick up one of the nearby trays and throw it at him, but refrains. Deaton’s always been cryptic as hell. He doesn’t expect that to change now, as annoying as it can be.

“So what’s in store for today?” Stiles asks him.

He settles back, listening as Deaton talks. He feels his magic there, just below the surface. It’s more noticeable now than it was before. Deaton tells him it’s because he’s accepted it and has been using it more. Whatever it is, the feeling is constant now. It’s a part of him. 

The bag hits the floor with a dull thud, and Stiles looks around the bustling hotel lobby. It’s busier here than he expected. Though of course he should have known. It’s a convention, supernatural or not, of course there were bound to be a lot of people here. The reality of just how many supernatural creatures there are out there hits him suddenly. 

“Woah.” Stiles turns to Derek. “Why didn’t you tell me there were so many werewolves out there? Wait, are all of these people werewolves? Are there vampires here? Do vampires and werewolves get along? What about fairies. Or…”

A hand settles over Stiles’ mouth as Derek looks around the room, a slightly pained expression on his face. “You couldn’t have asked all these questions before we got here?”

Stiles pointedly looks down at Derek’s hand, who drops it from his mouth with a huff. “I didn’t think about it until now. So?”

“So, what?”

“Are you going to answer any of my questions?”

Truthfully, Stiles knows the answer to some of them. But no one really knows exactly how much he’s been studying the supernatural. Not that he’s hiding it. He’s not. He just… hasn’t talked about it. 

“Vampires don’t attend conventions,” Derek says. “And the whole not getting along with werewolves is a myth. We get along fine.”

“Do you know any?”

This time Stiles is genuinely curious. There’s still a lot he doesn’t know about Derek, despite them becoming closer over the years. Derek still keeps a lot of things close to the chest, and as much as Stiles wants to know these things he’s not going to push Derek. Asking once isn’t pushing thank you very much.

“My parents had a friend that was a vampire when I was a kid,” Derek says. “She used to sleep in our basement when she visited because it was easier to hide the sunlight there. And no, before you ask, she did not sparkle.” Stiles’ mouth shuts with a snap. Derek continues. “Last I heard she lived in Colorado with her girlfriend and their coven.”

“They’re both lovely people,” Laura says. “We’ll have to invite them to visit sometime. I do miss Marybell’s cookies.”

“The vampire bakes?” Scott asks. “Like… normal food?”

“Yes, normal food,” Laura says. “It was a hobby. Her and mom used to bake together. I think it was an excuse to sneak away to talk, but they both got really good at it. And sometimes they’d let us help them.”

“By us are you including Derek?” Stiles asks. He tries to imagine a little five year old Derek baking in the kitchen with his mother, sister, and their vampire friend. It’s not an image that easily comes to mind. It might be easier if he actually knew what Derek looked like as a kid. Something he tells himself to ask Laura about later.

“Oh definitely,” Laura says. “Derek is an excellent baker. Better than me. He got all the talent in that area.”

“We should get checked in,” Derek mutters, ignoring Laura’s comment.

Laura fondly rolls her eyes as she watches him walk away, Lydia close behind him. “He’s always been embarrassed by compliments. Especially about his baking. I don’t know why.”

Stiles thinks he might get it. He has things he used to share with his mom that he doesn’t talk to anyone about. It’s something that was for the two of them, and even now he likes to keep it that way. Not that telling anyone would take that from him. Those moments will always be his. But it’s still something personal. He can’t blame Derek for wanting to hold onto that.

“So,” Stiles says, sliding up next to Derek at the counter. He notices him tense, probably expecting more teasing. “How are these rooms divided up?” 

Derek visibly relaxes at the question, before shrugging. “I don’t know yet.”

“I do,” Lydia says. “Laura and I planned it all out weeks ago.”

“Of course you did,” Stiles says.

Lydia ignores his comment and starts handing out keycards as she calls people’s names. “Boyd and Erica are obviously sharing, because we all know they’d just sneak off to the others room anyway. Then me and Laura, Cora and Kira, Scott and Isaac.” She holds up the final keycard with a smirk. “Which leaves…”

“Me and Derek,” Stiles says. He reaches forward to take the key card from Lydia, only for Derek to snatch it before he can. “Great.”

“Derek Hale!” 

They all turn at the sound of a voice calling Derek’s name. A woman approaches them. She looks to be around Laura’s age, with straight black hair and piercing blue eyes. The red shade of her lips could rival Erica’s. Her smile, while friendly, holds a bite to it. 

“I wasn’t sure if we’d see you here,” the woman says, looking from Derek to Laura. “Any of you. I haven’t seen you since…”

“Tennessee,” Laura finishes. “About six years ago.”

“Has it really been that long since you both just up and left in the middle of the night without so much as a note?” the woman asks. Her tone is teasing, but Stiles doesn’t miss the slight anger.

Laura grimaces. “We’re sorry about that, really. We couldn’t stay anywhere for long. Not then. And it was safer not to tell anyone where we planned to go.”

“And here I thought I just scared Derek off,” the woman says. The smile she gives Derek makes Stiles’ skin crawl.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says. “Who are you?”

“Meredith Collins. I’m alpha of a pack just outside of Nashville. And you,” she gives Stiles an assessing look, “you’re human.”

“Yep, that’s me,” Stiles says. “Designated human of the pack.”

“I don’t think that’s all you are,” Meredith says. She studies him for a moment, and Stiles tries not to squirm. She finally smiles and looks away, turning her attention back to Derek. “I’m glad you’re all here. We’ll have to catch up. And hopefully we’ll see you at the singles mixer for alphas looking for emissaries.”

Stiles goes cold at that. There are mixers for alphas looking for emissaries? And if Derek goes… He looks down at his hands and frowns. Maybe Deaton was right. Maybe he had waited too long.

“Why do the alphas need to be single?” Scott asks.

“It’s not just the alphas,” Meredith says. “But the sparks as well. They can form a more… intense bond that way. It doesn’t always happen. Some alphas choose other wolves to marry and such, but there have been instances where the right alpha and spark meet and they form a stronger connection. That’s why we have the little mixer.”

“Interesting,” Scott says. When Isaac shoots him a look, he holds up his hands. “Not that I would go.”

“I don’t think I’ll be attending either,” Derek says. “I’m not looking for some stranger to be my emissary.”

“But you do need one,” Meredith says. “You know packs are stronger once they have one established. And unless you do…” 

Stiles looks up to find Derek’s eyes on him. He tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. Derek frowns. 

“We’re fine, Meredith,” Laura says. “But thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course,” Meredith says, not seeming the least bit phased by the obvious brush off. “The invitation is an open one, of course. Even if you want to sit in and see how it works.”

Stiles very much does not. The last thing he wants to do is see Derek at some mixer with other sparks fawning over him.

“Where are the rooms at?” Stiles whispers to Lydia. 

“Fourth floor,” she tells him. “You’re room 408.”

Stiles nods and snatches the card from Derek’s grip when he’s distracted. “I’m going up to the room.”

“I’ll come with you,” Derek offers.

Stiles shakes his head, “No it’s okay. You stay and catch up if you want.”

He grabs his bag and walks quickly towards the elevator. He’s not surprised when he hears footsteps behind him. Except it’s not Derek that follows him, but Laura and Lydia. They stand on either side of him as they wait for the elevator, and then once they’re inside. Neither speak until the elevator has started to move.

“You know he’s not interested in her,” Laura tells him. “That’s partially why we left Tennessee when we did. She wouldn’t take a hint that he wasn’t interested.”

Stiles thinks of Derek back then, young and traumatized after just losing his parents and all the shit Kate put him through. To have someone else trying to worm their way into his life like that…

He doesn’t know Meredith but it makes him not like her even more. Especially since she clearly hasn’t changed.

“Do you think he’ll go to the mixer?” Stiles asks. 

“Doubtful,” Laura says. “You heard him. He’s not interested in finding an emissary he doesn’t know. Especially not when he has you.”

“I’m not his emissary,” Stiles mutters. He swipes the key against the lock and pushes the door open, not surprised when both Laura and Lydia follow him in.

“Not yet,” Laura says.

“But you could be if you’d just be honest with him,” Lydia says.

“I’m not ready,” Stiles tells her.

“That’s what you keep saying,” Lydia sighs. “But I think you are. You just need to trust yourself.”

“And trust Derek,” Laura adds.

“Of course I trust Derek,” Stiles says, offended that she could think otherwise. “I trust him more than anyone else.”

“Then tell him,” Laura says. “He deserves to know.”

Stiles knows they’re not just talking about his powers anymore. They’ve moved on to yet another topic Stiles would like to avoid. 

“I’m not going to be yet another person that puts my feelings before his,” Stiles says. “He deserves better than that. This should be his choice.”

“You’re not like them,” Laura assures him. “None of them ever thought about that was best for Derek. None of them cared about Derek. Or loved him. You do. And Stiles I know he…”

“No,” Stiles says, holding up his hands. “Don’t.” He runs a hand through his hair and sits down on the edge of his bed. He’s thankful there are two so at least they’re saved that awkwardness. “Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?”

Laura and Lydia share a look, before coming to sit next to him on the bed. “Sure sweetie,” Lydia says. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How about the fact that we’re actually at a supernatural convention?” Stiles says. “How awesome is that?”

“That is pretty cool,” Lydia says. “Imagine how much we can learn here.”

“I know!”

“Oh I love you two nerds,” Laura says, grinning at both of them. "Not that you're going to learn much hiding in the hotel room."

"We're not hiding," Stiles argues. 

"Uh huh."

"I just couldn't take the way she was looking at him,” Stiles mutters. "Or trying to parade him around like he's some sort of snack on display. It's not right."

“Right because you want to be the one to sink your teeth into that snack,” Lydia says.

Laura makes a face at that. “Gross. That is my brother.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says. “Now we can move on.”

“You’re the one that brought the conversation back to Derek,” Lydia says. 

“And she’s not wrong,” Laura says. “Only there’s a big difference between you and those other people.”

“What’s that?” Stiles finds himself asking.

“You want him for more than his looks. And he’d actually let you do things I don’t want to think about,” Laura says. “He definitely wants you to.”

“Doubtful,” Stiles mutters. 

Lydia sighs, “Can we not with this self-pity? We’re telling you the truth. You just need to open your eyes. Both of you.”

Stiles jumps up suddenly. “I’m taking a shower and exiting this conversation.”

He runs into the bathroom before either woman can reply. It’s only once he’s stripped down and gotten under the spray that he realizes something. He sighs. “Hey Laur? Lyds? I kind of forgot to grab my shampoo and body wash. And clean clothes. Can you bring them to me? Please?”

He’s met with silence. He wouldn’t be surprised if they just ignored him and left him to risk having to walk out in nothing but a flimsy towel in front of Derek. 

He hears the door open and lets out a breath of relief. Except that voice that speaks isn’t Laura or Lydia. “Here, Stiles.”

Stiles peeks his head out from behind the curtain to see Derek standing there, holding out shampoo and body wash. He takes it from him with a small smile. “Thanks.”

Derek nods, “Sure. I uhh… I put your clothes on the toilet.”

“Great,” Stiles says, clearing his throat when his voice rises slightly. “I’ll try not to take too long. You know, in case you want to shower.”

“I’m fine,” Derek tells him. “I showered before we left. Take your time.”

Like hell is Stiles going to be able to take his time knowing that Derek is right outside the door. He sighs and opens the shampoo, lathering some into his hair, and then rinsing it out under the warm spray. He does the same with his body wash, making sure to thoroughly cleanse his skin. He doesn’t want Derek complaining about him smelling. The water pressure is pretty decent, and the feeling of it hitting his skin relaxes him. Or maybe it’s the fact that the room suddenly smells like Derek. A lot like Derek. He grabs the bottle of body wash and reads the label, just noticing that it’s not his body wash, but Derek’s. Same with the shampoo.

He shakes his head. It could have been an accident. Or Derek might not have been able to find Stiles’, but it also could be something else. Something that sends a jolt of excitement going through him. He quickly pushes the thought away. He can’t go there. It had to have been a mistake. That’s all.

Except when he steps out of the room, fully clean and dressed, he notices Derek scenting the air, a small smile appearing on his face. Maybe it wasn’t an accident, after all. But does Stiles have the courage to confront him about it?

He can face down werewolves and witches and hunters, but the thought of talking about his feelings for Derek terrifies him so much more than any of that. At least the worst that could happen with the former would be death. If Derek didn’t return his feelings and he spilled his guts he’d have to live with that embarrassment and rejection and risk losing his friend.

Stiles jumps when a warm hand settles on his arm. Derek is looking at him, face pinched in concern. “Are you okay?”

Stiles nods, probably a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah! Great. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Why did you give me your body wash and shampoo?” Stiles blurts out. “Was it a mistake?”

Derek drops his hand and looks away. “No. I did it on purpose. I didn’t want any wolves harassing you, and if you smell like me…”

“They’ll leave me alone?” Stiles finishes.

Derek nods, “Yeah. I should have asked you first. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I like smelling like you.” Stiles’ eyes widen as the words register. He starts backing away towards the door, barely remembering to grab his phone off the bed. “I mean… I think I’ll just go see if Scott wants to go explore. I’ll uhh… I’ll see you later.”

“Stiles?”

“Bye!”

He finds himself sitting with Scott, Isaac, Cora, and Kira in one of the conference rooms on the first floor of the hotel. An emissary for a pack in Colorado is giving a lecture. Stiles tries to pay attention, but his mind keeps drifting to Derek. He really wishes it wouldn’t. He’d been looking forward to the convention and learning about different packs. But here he is, mind drifting back to Derek, who he just left standing confused in their hotel room. 

“Why do you smell so much like Derek?” Scott whispers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says.

“You know we can tell when you’re lying,” Cora says from his other side.

“Yes, and I would really appreciate if you would stop talking,” Stiles hisses. “I’m trying to pay attention.”

Cora snorts, “Uh huh. You’ve been zoned out the last twenty minutes. The lecture finished five minutes ago, anyway.”

Stiles looks around, finally noticing the fact that the room is slowly emptying around him. Shit. He can’t be stuck here with yet another Hale sister who wants to interrogate him. He jumps up. “What’s next?”

“I heard there’s lunch in a few minutes,” Isaac says. “We could have the others come meet us.”

Stiles knows it would be suspicious to suddenly say no, so he keeps his mouth shut, and nods instead. “I’ll text Lydia.”

He does as he says, and send a text to Lydia informing her of their plans. He’s not surprised when she texts back telling him that her, Derek, Laura, Erica, and Boyd are already there and they have seats saved for them.

“Come on,” he says to the others. “Lyds says they’re waiting for us.”

“Of course she would know we’d be coming,” Cora says.

“Well everyone knows how much Isaac and Scott love their food,” Kira points out. “Stiles too.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles asks, stumbling after them when they start to walk away.

“You heard me,” Kira says, grinning sweetly at him over her shoulder. “You could eat enough to rival Scott and Isaac put together.”

“I could not,” Stiles argues. “They have werewolf metabolism, so they can clearly eat more.”

“Sure, Stiles,” Cora says. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “I hate all of you. I don’t know why we’re friends.”

“All of us?” Lydia says, raising an eyebrow as he takes a seat next to Derek.

“Okay maybe not all of you,” Stiles says. He waits until she smiles, clearly pleased, before continuing. “I don’t hate Derek.”

Laura rolls her eyes, “Yeah we all know that much. You lo--”

“Curly fries!” Stiles exclaims, noticing the pile of delicious golden goodness on the plate in front of him. He grabs a handful and starts shoveling them into his mouth. “Oh my god.”

Lydia wrinkles her nose, “Well that’s attractive.”

Laura laughs and leans over to whisper something to Lydia. Something that has the other wolves snickering, and Derek blushing. Stiles narrows his eyes. “What did you say?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Laura says. “Just eat your present, Stiles.”

“My present?” Stiles questions.

“Where do you think the curly fries came from?” Lydia asks. “Did you think they magically appeared on the table?”

“We are at a convention with magical people,” Stiles says. “It wouldn’t be that surprising.”

“And you’d eat food that appeared out of nowhere?” Erica asks.

Stiles frowns down at his plate, suddenly suspicious. He pushes it away, and Derek sighs, pushing it back towards him. “They're safe. I got them for you.”

Stiles gives him a small smile, and picks up one of the fries. “Thanks, Der.”

“Just eat the fries,” Derek tells him.

They eat in mostly silence after that. At least Stiles does. Laura and Lydia talk quietly to Cora and Kira, while Derek talks to Boyd. Scott and Isaac huddled close together, talking. Stiles is too busy enjoying his food to care. 

A shadow falls over the table, grabbing their attention. An older man with greying hair stands across from them, a kind smile on his face. “I’m happy to see you all made it,” the man says. “I’m Martin Greyhook. I host this little convention. It’s always nice to see new faces here. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.”

“We are,” Derek says. “Thank you.”

“You must be Derek,” Martin says. When Derek nods, his smile softens. “You look a lot like your mother.”

“You knew our mother?” Cora asks him.

“Oh yes, of course,” Martin says. “I haven’t seen you all since you were kids. Even then you were probably too interested in all the magic and food to care much about what the adults were up to. I was truly sorry about what happened to your family,” he adds, face going solemn.

“Thank you,” Laura says. “Our mother spoke highly of you.”

“I appreciate that,” Martin says. “I’m happy all of you are here. If have any questions, or need anything, please feel free to find me.”

“We will,” Laura says. “Thank you.”

“Well he was nice,” Lydia says. 

“He was,” Laura agrees. “I remember a little about him, but not much. I stopped coming to these things once I started high school. It got boring, and I wasn’t old enough to drink so…”

“The fun left,” Derek says. “I didn’t see the point in coming without Laura so I stopped coming around the same time.”

“Which left us with the house to ourselves,” Laura says, smirking. “So we had parties of our own.”

“Of course you did,” Lydia says.

“I’m trying to picture that,” Isaac says. “Laura I can see. But Derek?”

“Believe it or not, Derek did once know what fun was,” Laura says. 

“I still know how to have fun,” Derek says.

Erica looks pointedly down at his salad and water, “Really?”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to eat healthy,” Derek argues. 

Stiles holds out a curly fry in front of Derek’s face, smiling to himself when Derek watches it warily. “Oh come on. Everything is fine in moderation, Der. One little curly fry won’t kill you. Live a little.”

He expects Derek to roll his eyes and push his hand away. What he’s not expecting is for him to lean in and take the curly fry between his teeth. Stiles lets out, watching as the fry disappears into Derek’s mouth. He can’t look away, suddenly fascinated by the sight of Derek’s mouth working as he chews and then the movement of his throat as he swallows. 

His eyes snap up to Derek’s. Of course he’s watching him, a pleased smirk on his face. “Happy?”

Stiles can only nod.

The rest of the day is pretty uneventful, filled with more lectures from different packs. It’s not until they’re back in their room for the night, both of them under the covers on their separate beds, that Stiles asks the question that’s been nagging at him.

“Why aren’t you giving a speech?”

Derek lowers the book he was reading and turns to him, brow furrowed. “What?”

“A lot of the members of packs across the country are giving speeches,” Stiles says. “Why aren’t you?”

Derek shrugs, “They did ask me if I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure I’d have much to say.”

Stiles thinks Derek could have a lot more interesting stuff to talk about than some of them, but it’s also stuff he’d probably rather not get into. But there’s plenty of other stuff he could talk about. “You know a lot about working on pack dynamics,” Stiles tells him. “And building a pack. I mean, look at us. We’re not exactly normal. Are we?”

“No,” Derek says. “We’re not. But I’d still rather sit back and let someone else do the speaking. It’s easier to enjoy myself that way. Less pressure.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles says. “But just you know, I’m always interested in what you have to say. I know others would be too.”

A look of surprise flashes across Derek’s face before he smiles, “Thank you, Stiles.”

“Anytime.”

The room is filled with various wolves and sparks from different packs. The sparks mostly stay in place, performing different displays of magic while the alphas walk among them. Something about the whole thing makes Stiles' skin crawl. 

At one point a spark conjures up flowers all over their body, in a deep shade of red. He smiles at the alpha and holds out the flower. "Something to match your eyes. Though yours are probably far more magnificent."

Stiles snorts and Derek knocks their knees together. "Behave."

"I am," Stiles says, shooting him a grin. "I'm on my best behavior."

"Why do I find that hard to believe?"

Stiles ignores the comment and settles back in his chair. "Sure you don't want to be out there, you know, mingling?"

"Positive," Derek says. "I'm fine where I am."

Stiles glances at Derek to find him watching him, and fights the urge to look away. "Me too."

Derek smiles, "Good. Because I'm not about to let some other alpha snatch you up."

"Would you fight for my honor, Der?" Stiles teases. It's the only way to keep his cool about Derek's comment. 

Derek just shrugs, "If it came down to it."

“Doubt it will,” Stiles says. “I’m not that…”

Music starts up, loud and sudden, and Stiles jumps. He looks around, somewhat grateful for the distraction. He notices that some of the people have started to dance. He also notices more than a few people with their eyes on Derek. He stands and reaches his hand out for Derek, smiling down at him, hoping his nerves don’t show through the smile. “Dance with me.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. Stiles half expects him to tell him no. Instead, he gets to his feet, slips his hand into Stiles’, and leads him out onto the makeshift dance floor. One of Derek’s arms slip around his waist, while the other continues to hold his hand as they start to sway to the music. Stiles has never been much of a dancer, but it’s easy to follow Derek’s lead. 

Stiles can feel eyes on him and turns to see more than a few people glaring at them. He looks back at Derek with a smile. “Some people aren’t happy I snatched you up for this dance. Guess they’ll have to wait their turn.”

“No.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow, “No?”

“No,” Derek repeats. “I’m not dancing with anyone else, Stiles.”

“But you’re dancing with me,” Stiles says.

“You’ve always been the exception,” Derek says.

Stiles’ heart gives a small flutter. It’s hard to keep himself in check with Derek so close and looking at him with an intensity that takes his breath away. 

“Der, I need to tell you something,” Stiles says. He swallows, averts his eyes for a moment as he tries to gather the courage to say what he needs to. Then he sees him, standing on the other side of the room, eyes glaring daggers into Derek’s back. He meets Stiles’ eyes and his lips pull up into a snarl. Stiles is frozen for a moment as the man raises his arms and his eyes glow gold.

He hears a crack above him, followed by startled yells from other people in the room. He looks up in time to see the chandelier they’re under starting to fall. He acts without thinking, pushing Derek away and raising his hands, letting his power come to the surface. 

“Stiles!” 

The chandelier freezes above him in the air, held steady by an invisible force field. He focuses harder, using his power to move the chandelier away from him and anyone else it could crush. 

“Clear some space,” Stiles calls out. 

That snaps people back into action, as people move out of the way, giving Stiles enough room to lower the chandelier to the ground in one piece. Once that is done he turns to the spark that had caused this, to find him gone. He narrows his eyes, scanning the room, to see him almost to the door. He reaches out with his power, imagining invisible ropes wrapping around the man's body and folding him in place. 

“I don’t know what you all do with attempted murderers,” Stiles says. “But this man just tried to kill either Derek or me, or both.”

“It was you,” the man hisses at him. “You don’t deserve to be the Hale pack emissary. You’re just…”

“He’s more than deserving,” Derek says, voice loud and clear. “Just because he’s not out here showing off doesn’t mean he’s not capable. As he’s shown.” He turns to Martin Greyhook, who has been watching the whole thing with wide eyes. Clearly this is the first time someone has tried to commit murder at one of their conventions. “Get him out of here. And question him. He might not have been working alone.”

“Do you want to question me, Alpha Hale?”

Derek shakes his head, “No. Not now. I need to talk to my emissary.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and he releases his hold on the spark as Derek grabs his arm and pulls him from the room. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd follow them out. Stiles isn’t sure what to say, or if he should say anything. He just lets Derek lead him down the hall towards the elevators. They stop a few feet away and Derek drops his arm as he turn to face him. 

“Der…”

He barely gets the name out before he Derek is on him, fisting a hand in his shirt and pulling him in. Stiles’ brain might short circuit at the first touch of Derek’s lips against his own. For a moment he thinks he might be dreaming, but none of his dreams have ever felt like this before. Ever felt so real. From the stubble brushing against his skin to the surprising softness of Derek’s lips, down to the tingling in his toes. 

It’s real. Derek is really kissing him.

Stiles pulls back with a gasp, looking at Derek with wide eyes. His eyes are closed, and his lips are pulled up in one of the softest smiles Stiles has ever seen him wear. It breaks his heart a little bit.

“Please tell me all of this isn’t just because you know how powerful I am now,” Stiles whispers.

Derek’s eyes fly open as he looks at Stiles in shock, “What?”

“My magic,” Stiles says. “You saw me do that spell and then… then you kissed me. You’ve never even been interested in kissing me before, Derek.”

“Of course I have,” Derek tells him. “I’ve just…”

“Been an emotionally constipated idiot who was too afraid to admit his feelings?” Erica chimes in.

“Sounds right to me,” Isaac says.

Derek growls at them, “Go away.”

Boyd starts to steer them away, but turns back at the last minute, “They’re not wrong though. You have been pining for Stiles for years.” Derek growls again and Boyd holds up his hands, “I’m just saying. It’s time you just admit the truth.”

“I would be able to do that if you three would just back off and let me talk to him,” Derek mutters.

“So you do like me?” Stiles clarifies.

Derek’s eyes move back to him. He shakes his head before kissing him softly. “No Stiles, I don’t like you. I love you.”

Stiles swats at his arm, “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Derek questions.

“Because I thought you weren’t interested! Sometimes it would seem like you were, but then you’d get all scowly and push me away. God I should have realized it was just you being an idiot.”

“I’m not the only one that was hiding something,” Derek points out. He looks down at Stiles’ hands before meeting his eyes. “Knowing how powerful you are would have been good to know.”

“I was still figuring it out,” Stiles tells him. “I could feel it. But it also felt like a lot of pressure. And at the time I didn’t know if I could handle it. But I never once held back when it mattered. I was just being more Merlin-esque.”

“Keeping your powers hidden while secretly saving everyone’s lives.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah. I just really wanted to be comfortable with it all before I told anyone,” Stiles says. “Even though sometimes I wanted to just do something drastic when people kept talking about how weak I am.”

“You’ve never been weak,” Derek tells him. “Magic or not. You’re one of the strongest people I know. I’ve always been able to see that.”

Stiles smiles and kisses him again, slow and deep. He moves when Derek starts walking them backwards. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, trusting Derek to lead them to wherever they’re going safely. His back hits a wall, and Derek presses himself close. Stiles groans and tangles a hand in Derek’s hair.

“I want you,” he murmurs against his lips.

Derek pulls back slightly, and Stiles marvels at the way his eyes shift from green to red and back to green. “Are you sure?”

Stiles lets out a disbelieving laugh, “Are you kidding me? I’ve wanted this for years, Der. Of course I’m sure.”

Derek hand moves behind him, and it’s only when he hears a ding and the room starts to move, that Stiles realizes they’re in an elevator. 

“You couldn’t have done that when we got in here?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “I was a little preoccupied.”

Stiles grins, “Fair point.”

Derek moves in, letting his nose trail along Stiles’ throat, and Stiles shudders. “You’re very distracting, Stiles. You smell like me.”

Stiles tries to take a deep breath, “You’re the one that’s been having me use your body wash and shampoo, and probably sleeping on my clothes.”

He feels Derek smile against his throat, “And no one will ever doubt who you belong to.”

Stiles wants to argue that he doesn’t belong to anyone, but any argument dies in his throat when Derek moves up to kiss him again. The elevator dings, and Derek pulls him backwards, into the hallway. He doesn’t stop kissing him. Not even when they reach their room and need to find the key.

“I think it’s in my pocket,” Derek murmurs against his lips. “Can you get it?”

Stiles moves his hand down, feeling around for Derek’s pocket. Derek chuckles lowly when Stiles’ fingers trail along the hard bulge in his jeans. “Not the key, Stiles. But if you find the key, you can touch me all you want.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, and gives a firm squeeze. Derek moans and his hips rock forward. Stiles smirks and moves his hand away, finally finding Derek’s pocket. He slides his hand in and pulls out the key. Derek takes it from in and slides it into the lock. Once the door opens, he moves them inside. The door has barely closed behind them before Derek is pinning Stiles against it, his mouth moving hot and hungry against Stiles’. 

Stiles’ hands move across Derek’s body, not being able to settle. He wants to touch and feel as much of Derek as he can. There’s just one problem. “Too many clothes,” he mutters.

Derek chuckles and nips at his jaw, “Can’t you just magic them away?”

“I could,” Stiles says, throwing his head back against the wall when Derek starts kissing his way down Stiles’ neck. “Maybe I just want you to take them off me.”

“That I can definitely do,” Derek says. “But first, we need to get to the bed.”

Stiles grins and steps around Derek. Even though he said he wants Derek to take off his clothes, he can’t resist teasing him a bit by unbuttoning his flannel and letting it slide to the floor. He hears Derek’s soft footsteps behind him and turns his head. “Well? What are you waiting for? Come and get me big guy.”

After that it’s a blur of hungry kisses and wandering hands, never able to settle. Always need to touch, to explore. Stiles loses himself in the feeling of Derek’s body moving with his, lighting a fire within him that threatens to ignite him. He knows it won’t. He knows he’s safe here in Derek’s arms. Even still, he chases the feeling threatening to consume him. 

Until it does.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. The euphoria surrounds him, taking him higher and higher. He doesn’t think he ever wants to come down. His limbs are light, and he feels like he’s floating.

“Stiles,” Derek murmurs against his skin.

“Hmm?”

“You’re making us float,” Derek tells him, lips raised into a smile against his skin.

Stiles looks around them, eyes wide, as he sees they are indeed floating. Not just them, but the bed too. “Oh shit.” He laughs happily and uses his magic to safely lower them to the ground. “Well that’s new.”

“So you don’t always make the bed float when you get off?”

“Nope,” Stiles says. “Guess that makes you special.”

Derek laughs, “I think you’re the special one.”

Stiles kisses him, lips moving softly against Derek’s as he caresses his face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Derek says, nuzzling into his hand. 

“Laura and Lydia are going to be insufferable about this,” Stiles sighs.

“Let them be,” Derek says. “They can be insufferable by themselves because I don’t plan on leaving this room anytime soon.”

Stiles laughs, “What about the rest of the conference? Or you know, food?”

“We can order room service,” Derek says. “And everyone can survive without us for a day.”

“True,” Stiles says. “I’m not ready to share you anytime soon.”

“Good,” Derek says. “Because neither am I.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed, only getting out to eat the dinner Derek orders them. At one point, Lydia knocks on the door, asking them if they plan on leaving, something they both ignore. When she texts Stiles later, he tells her they’re both busy, and not to expect them the rest of the day.

He’s not surprised when he’s then bombarded with texts from the rest of the pack asking questions. From the sound of Derek’s phone, he is too. “I’m turning this thing off,” Stiles mutters, powering down his phone. 

Derek does the same and puts his aside. He leans in closer and nuzzles into Stiles’ neck. “What if there’s an emergency?”

“They can call the room,” Stiles says. He leans his head back, exposing his neck further. Something Derek takes full advantage of. “We have much more important things to do.”

“That we do,” Derek agrees.

They don’t leave the room until the next morning, and that’s only because it’s the last day of the conference and Derek doesn’t want to seem rude. As expected, the pack immediately starts questioning them as soon as they enter the dining room for breakfast. 

“What happened?”

“Did you two really hook up?”

“Please tell me this means you’re together now.”

“Is that beard burn?”

“Oh my god. They totally had sex.”

Laura wrinkles her nose, “Obviously. They reek of each other.”

Cora mirrors Laura’s look. “Did you even shower?”

“Of course we did,” Stiles says. “Twice this morning.”

“Why would you have to shower twice?” Scott asks. When Lydia raises an eyebrow at him, he pouts. “What?”

“Think about it, Scott,” Lydia says.

“Yes, we’re together now,” Stiles says, after they all settle down. “And that’s all you’re getting.”

“Good,” Laura says. “I love you both, and I’m happy for you, but I don’t need the details.”

“There is something else,” Derek says. “Something I need to ask Stiles.”

Stiles isn’t sure what’s coming. He’s even more confused by the serious look on Derek’s face as he reaches out and takes both of Stiles’ hands into his. “Der?”

“Stiles,” Derek says, lips twitching up into a half smile before he school’s his features. “Would you do me the honor of being my emissary?”

Stiles grins and throws his arms around Derek’s neck, “Of course I will.” When he pulls back, he hits Derek’s shoulder lightly. “You didn’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

“I kind of did,” Derek says. “You deserve someone to make a big deal about you.”

“I can’t say I disagree with that,” a voice says from behind them. Stiles turns to see Martin Greyhook standing there, looking between them with a smile. “You showed quite a display of magic the other day, Mr. Stilinski. I can only imagine what else you can do. Especially now that you’ve bonded with your alpha.”

Derek snickers at that and Stiles elbows him before addressing the older werewolf. “Thank you, sir. I’ve been training hard.”

“I have no doubt,” Martin says. “The Hale pack is lucky to have you.”

Stiles looks around at his friends, all smiling proudly at him, and can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. “Not as lucky as I am.”

He knows he still has a lot to learn, but the fact that he doesn’t have to do it alone, and that he has his friends, his pack to support him means more than he can ever say. Not that he’s going to mention that to Deaton. He’s already going to be smug enough once he finds out everyone knows. The only person who will be in on that is Derek. From the look on his face, he gets it. If anyone can understand how amazing it is to have the love and support of their small little pack, it’s him.