Chapter Text
Stiles
Stiles was pissed.
He and Derek had just shared this incredible, heartbreaking yet affirming and passionate experience together, his…lover/boyfriend/partner/whatever finally breaking down for some much needed catharsis that Stiles could tell was a very long time coming, when they were rudely interrupted by the smuggest, most irritating guy that he had ever had the displeasure of knowing. Yes, he’d only been acquainted with the werewolf for maybe three minutes and he already managed to displace Jackson-fucking-Whittemore! The fact that they’d been heading back to the den to no doubt get each other off in a loving, yet wild and freaky way made his scowl deepen even more.
To make things worse, at the sight of the douchebag who was apparently his uncle Derek had immediately regressed, reverting to the non-verbal mostly wolf version of himself. His face changed into its Beast Man form and he’d put himself between Stiles and the other man, roaring and eyes burning deepest red.
The older werewolf, who appeared to be around his mid-30s and wore a long-sleeved, dark blue V-neck and gray chinos, introduced himself as “Peter Hale, dear Derek here’s uncle and Left Hand to Alpha Talia Hale” whatever the hell that meant. He’d put up his manicured, completely human hands and flashed bright blue eyes, tilting his head just slightly to the side. That seemed to appease Derek somewhat, but he still watched the other man sharply and growled lowly intermittently.
They were all still staring at each other —Stiles with the same scowl, arms crossed and leaning into his guardian werewolf, Derek glaring at his uncle like he wished a motherfucker would, and Peter looking between the two of them like he was trying to figure out an intriguing, but somewhat distasteful puzzle (and at Stiles in particular like an bug to dissect) — when the wolf that had gotten Derek’s attention in the first place jogged into view after circling around. The blonde, teenaged girl came to stand beside Peter and she gawked at Stiles and Derek with her eyebrows attempting to climb off her forehead.
“This is…unexpected,” she said to Peter before turning her full attention to Derek. She looked at him with such fondness and longing and Stiles felt his gut tighten with anxiety and jealousy. His Beast Man looked down at him and rumbled softly, stroking his face. I’m assuming that’s him saying I’ve got nothing to worry about. He butted his head against the muscular shapeshifter’s shoulder and smiled.
The female wolf actually cooed, beaming warmly.
“I’m Erica, by the way, and you two are adorable,” she stated. Stiles quirked an eyebrow, but decided she was being earnest and hesitantly grinned back.
“I’m Stiles,” he replied, waving. Erica was just starting to say something else when the douchebag cut in.
“Anywhoo,” said Peter, winking at her while she glared. “We should get a move on and head back now. It’s a long walk for some folks,” he added, turning to pointedly glance at him.
“Uh, go where?” Stiles asked testily. “The den is only a mile or so away and the Boundary is maybe 3 or 4 miles in that…very general direction,” he said, turning around and waving his hand in what he hoped was at least the right quadrant.
“You’re not going to either of those,” said Peter like he was talking to an especially dimwitted valet parking attendant. “Well, you can stop by the den to get anything of importance” — he muttered “doubtful” while looking Stiles up and down — “since it’s on the way and all, but then you’re coming with us.”
Stiles’ current mid-level anxiety spiked into distress and fear. He started to ask why when Derek pulled him behind his flexing bulk and snarled at the other wolves.
“Enough, Derek,” said his uncle with exasperation. “Talia — you know, your mother and Alpha — ordered us to bring you back.” He turned to smirk at Stiles who was peering around the agitated wolf. “And of course we’ll bring your little pet too.” Derek growled even louder and began to crouch in preparation to attack.
Erica sighed. “Peter, do you think you can stop being an asshole for 5 whole minutes?” The elder wolf shrugged and looked down, examining his own now extended claws like he didn’t have a care in the world.
She took a small step toward Derek to refocus his attention. “Hey, it’s okay Derek...Alpha,” she said, voice cracking at the title. “It’s just me, Erica. Your beta…” I really need to get my hands on a werewolf glossary, Stiles thought.
“We’re not going to hurt Stiles. We just need you…both of you” — she amended, glancing briefly at him — “to come back home for now. Your mother is worried about you and so are the rest of us. You’ve been away for 6 weeks now and before the last time you came back…for just a couple days…you were gone for 2 and a half entire months.”
She glowered at Peter when she mentioned “just a couple days” and he looked away. There was definitely a story there and Stiles was determined to find out what it was if he got the chance. Big surprise that the insufferable man had something to do with Derek being the way he was.
“We heard your hunting howl some days ago and that was one thing,” Erica continued, giving Stiles a curious look. “But the howls you let out today…god Derek, if I couldn’t still feel our bond, barely like always” — she now aimed her angry eyes at the larger werewolf — “I would’ve thought you were dying or something.”
Derek straightened out of his aggressive posture and whined, looking at her with apologetic puppy eyes, which was amusing given his still beastly face.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she finished, hurriedly wiping at her glistening eyes.
Stiles wanted to reassure the upset young wolf. “The, um, howling earlier? It was a good thing. He needed to get it out,” he disclosed.
Erica nodded and smiled shakily.
Peter looked pensive for approximately 10 seconds and then the mask of smugness descended back over his face. “Glad to hear it. Now let’s skedaddle.”
Derek was getting agitated again and Stiles sighed. “It’s okay Sour Wolf,” he said resigned to the situation. He saw Erica and Peter turn to each other and mouth “Sour Wolf?” incredulously.
Stiles rubbed the protective werewolf’s back. “Really, it’s okay. They’re not going to eat me.” Erica grinned wickedly. “I think,” he added, gulping.
“It smells like Derek probably already did that,” she noted oh-so-casually, dropping a firebomb of instant mortification. Stiles felt himself turn so red that he thought he would spontaneously combust. Peter leered at him and Derek, the traitor, was preening like the cat that got the canary. He just stood there, ducking his head to avoid further eye contact with anyone and wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
Erica, who had just wrecked his entire soul and salted its tattered remains, finally took pity on him. “It’s just part of being in a werewolf pack, Stiles. You’ll get used to it. Shit, the things that Isaac and Ethan said when Boyd and I were newly turned and going at like rabbits...” she shrugged, trailing off. From the goofy, yet lascivious expression on her face she was apparently remembering some truly spectacular encounters. Well, hokay then. Good for her.
Stiles decided to take matters into own hands, or feet, and started walking back toward the den. He didn’t want to hear Peter start bitching again and it was a good way to end the current conversation even as he continued to stress about exactly what werewolves could smell and for how long. He needed several drinks or a blow to the head or something to make him forget this new anxiety inducing information. Derek caught up to him and he carefully took the shapeshifter’s clawed left hand, the two others following behind them.
It didn’t take long to collect their meager belongings. “Goodbye den,” he whispered, thanking it for its live-saving shelter and taking a few moments alone after Derek headed out. I’ll never forget you. The place where someone first touched my dick…and I touched theirs! He was still giggling as he crawled out of their humble hideaway for perhaps the last time to meet the three waiting wolves, Peter appearing to send off a text and slipping his phone into a pant’s pocket.
They all looked at him like he was crazy, which only made him burst out with an honest to god cackle like some stereotypical witch. He just stood on his tippy-toes to kiss his bemused wolf’s now smooth forehead and pat a stubbly cheek. Derek had finally changed back to his Pointy Human state, but still wasn’t speaking. Then they set set off.
Stiles had to admit that when he realized the rest of the pack lived in actual houses (which duh, where did he think all the clothes and stuff came from, a bigger hole in the ground?) he started really looking forward to indoor plumbing and books and stoves and microwaves and electricity in general. He only hoped the rest of Derek’s pack would be more like Erica and less like Peter.
“Welcome to our humble little ‘village,’ please enjoy your stay” quipped V. Neck McDouche-Canoe with audible quote marks as they left the trees and entered a large meadow, heading toward a collection of buildings and what looked like windmills in the distance near the other end. “This is Derek’s…lair,” he added, smirking and gesturing to a small, roughly built shack at this end of the clearing. Derek lifted his lip in a silent snarl, but lowered his head. Stiles took his hand again, the right one this time as he stepped between the male werewolves, and squeezed it while giving Peter the stink eye. Sooner or later he was going to find out what his problem was. It’s no wonder Derek stayed gone if this was the vibe all the time.
They chucked their stuff through the door with barely a glance inside, the returning wolf pausing for a minute to check out an outdoor shower stall on the far side with a look of surprise. “Your grandfather and Michael built it a few weeks ago,” Erica said. “No more bathing in the river unless you really want to.” Derek made a pleased sound. They continued on.
The “village” was around 9 miles from the den, which was about a mile from the field where they’d been found, so it had taken about four hours to arrive, including a couple breaks for water, snacks, and “resting the human,” as Peter called it in his superior tone. They were soon spotted by a tanned young man with long, dark blonde hair and a dark-haired teenage girl who were gathering something in the middle of the field. After pausing in surprise and returning Erica’s wave the two quickly ran toward the settlement ahead of them.
As they drew closer he could see what appeared to be eight houses of varying styles and sizes, the first two they passed appearing vacant, and a handful of other structures whose purpose he wasn’t sure of. All of the buildings had solar panels on top as well as miniature windmills in addition to the half-dozen larger standalone turbines placed around the property, which he was able to make out turning earlier. Stiles saw a chicken coop inside a lengthy walk-in enclosure, one sprawling garden (which included a greenhouse, nice!) and a few small ones outside some of the houses. On the other side two dozen or so fruit trees were clustered together and there was a roomy pen containing two different kinds of goats — a short-haired breed around the size of a German Shepherd and a bigger, delightfully woolly kind — and a little red barn.
They were clearly going to the largest house, a wide building in the center and towards the back of the settlement that stood three stories high with an impressive wraparound porch where a group was already amassing outside. Here we go, he thought nervously, trying to channel his inner Tony Stark for some “can-do, don’t give a fuck” confidence.
Peter and Erica passed him and Derek as they approached, climbing the stairs and heading straight to the brunette, dark eyed woman at the front who bore an obvious relation to his wolf-friend. (Wolf-friend? Is that what he was going with? Was lover too awkward and simultaneously old-timey and inappropriately horny? How about partner? Too stuffy and formal? Boyfriend seemed kind of trivial. Did he care? Oh shit, wolf-friend’s mom was talking to him.)
“Im sorry,” he said bowing his head. “Could you please repeat that?” He knew everyone there could hear his racing heart. They could probably smell the sweat moistening his palms and starting to prickle down his back. Fuck!
“I said,” the woman repeated, standing regally, but wearing a small smile, “that my name is Talia Hale and I’m the Alpha, or leader, of this pack.”
Stiles swallowed. “Nice to meet you ma’am.” (Uh-oh he pulled out the ma’am. Would she be one of those women who approved and found the address respectful or would she think he was calling her old and be mad? Only time would tell!) “My name is Stiles, Stiles Stilinski.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. “It’s what everyone calls me, including my dad. My mom named me Mieczyslaw.”
“I see,” said Talia, smiling wider. She motioned to the gathered wolves, some of whom nodded or waved at him. “I won’t overwhelm you with everyone’s names right now, but I’ll introduce a few.”
She pointed to their companions of the last several hours. “You’ve already met my brother, Peter, who is our Left Hand, or enforcer-protector among other things.” Ohhh, that makes a lot of sense. Explains the mobster/lawyer/serial killer energy. “And Erica is training under Peter.”
Stiles ignored the former and grinned at the latter, which Talia didn’t miss. The looked she gave Peter was basically "Already? What did you do?" The irritating man just feigned wide-eyed innocence. The Alpha sighed, shaking her head, and then gestured to the young women flanking her. She turned first to her right and then her left.
“These are my daughters — Laura, the Alpha Heir and Cora, my youngest.” The dark haired young women regarded him with very different expressions. Where the elder seemed assessing, but curious the younger glared at him like he pissed in her Cheerios or whatever the werewolf equivalent was. Possibly still Cheerios. He nodded politely at both and said “hello,” which Laura repeated back to him. Talia gave Cora an unimpressed look and she schooled her face, but did nothing more.
The Alpha turned back to him with a soul piercing gaze. “And you obviously already know my son, Derek, who is also an Alpha in this pack.” He noticed his boyfriend wince at the title. Yet another thing to ask about later.
She then beckoned forward a bald, dark-skinned man who he hadn’t noticed lurking off to the side. “This is Druid Alan Deaton, our pack’s emissary or human representative. I’m sure the two of you will have many questions for each other,” Talia commented mysteriously. The silent, blank-faced man inclined his head, deep brown eyes boring into his own.
Stiles shivered, feeling vaguely flayed open by the scrutiny, and nodded back. A druid? Holy shit. Not only shapeshifting, but ye olde classical magic was a thing too? The Alpha was right, he wanted to talk the man’s ear off. Eventually. Maybe. Perhaps if he cracked a smile or showed some other sign of actual human emotion. Or human-adjacent, supernatural emotion. Whichever was relevant.
And then the formal introductions were over. The wolves wandered off in various directions, some stopping by to speak with him and others merely observing or giving him mistrustful looks, which was just a wee bit terrifying. The pack as a whole wasn’t that large, probably fewer than two dozen members present anyway, but it was still…a lot. Both on a general social interaction level (especially after the quiet isolation of the past few days) and on a Holy Shit, You’re Surrounded By Werewolves level.
Stiles was greeted first by a curvy, outgoing, 30-ish year old woman with long, wavy black hair named Valerie; the now excitedly grinning olive-skinned teenage girl he saw in the meadow earlier, Yasmin; and a soft-spoken 35-40-ish year old woman with chin length sandy hair and green eyes named Alice. He was speaking with Nathan, a handsome Black British guy who was visiting from another pack, when another brown eyed teenage girl walked up and started straight-up snuffling him and poked him lightly in the bicep and stomach without so much as a hello. He was still figuring out how to react, the man in front of him struggling to contain his amusement, when a young brown-skinned boy with a mass of dark curls hung out the window of a nearby house and waved at him, yelling “Hiiii!” before being called back inside. When Stiles turned back around the mysterious girl was gone.
Among those who were inclined to welcome him were the rest of Derek’s betas (he still needed that introductory course) who he had an enjoyable conversation with. Stiles realized that Isaac was the boy who’d gone missing in Selva that summer, pictures of his face plastered around Beacon Hills after first going up at the police station. Initially he’d been wanted for the attack on his father, but during the investigation evidence of severe abuse had been discovered.
A chest freezer with scratch marks and dried blood inside. The fresh blood on the knife in the kitchen and on the pipe upstairs. Perhaps most importantly, the diary Isaac had hidden inside his mattress which described numerous incidents. Accounts of screaming and bruises from neighbors who suddenly decided it was their business. Then it’d become about helping the poor boy, but he hadn’t been found. Mr. Lahey had been arrested when he left the hospital and was currently in jail awaiting trial despite the victim’s absence.
He was glad that Isaac was okay and even he was tactful enough not to bring it up. The taller teen had noticed his recognition and tensed until Stiles only smiled and gave him a small nod. He was curious about Erica and Boyd — they hadn’t been reported missing as far as he knew — but that wasn’t something to ask about now.
Stiles was too busy having his mind blown by the fact that these three had been regular human teenagers just like him anyway. He had seen his share of creature features, but the whole being turned thing had somehow completely slipped his mind. Maybe because the lycanthropy seemed so inherent to Derek and it just didn’t occur to him as something that could apply to himself. Huh. Could it apply to him? Would he want it to?
Laura approached him last. She had a warm smile and an effortless confidence and down-to-earth way about her immediately set him at ease. The future leader tried to offer him a room in the main house, Derek’s old room in fact, but the Sour Wolf himself grumbled and wrapped himself around Stiles, trying to herd him away.
Laura laughed at her brother’s antics. “Well, I guess you’re staying in the Struggle Shack,” she teased.
Stiles grinned. “I just spent the last few days in a wolf’s den. I can stand up in it? Definitely an upgrade.”
Laura raised her eyebrows. “He had you in a den?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” he replied, smiling up at the anxious Alpha. “And it was great.”
Derek started to rumble-purr and Laura’s eyes softened, glancing between them. “Wow,” she said, turning to her younger brother. “You better keep a hold of this one. He’s a rare bird for sure.” Derek chuffed and nuzzled his neck.
“I better let you two go,” she said. “But feel free to come by for a nice, hot, actual shower. Or a movie or something. And you’ve got to tell me how you two met, okay?”
“Aye aye, Captain!” Stiles cried, grinning and saluting as he was unceremoniously picked up and carried away backward over Derek’s shoulder, laughter from several werewolves echoing after them. And then they were off to hopefully christen the Struggle Shack.
Derek
Derek was a bundle of nerves watching members of the pack, especially his mother, meet his ma—Stiles. (Mate his wolf chimed in disapprovingly. Don’t get scared again now.) It seemed to go fairly well, only a handful of wolves showing signs of hostility or serious suspicion. That group included his little sister, which wasn’t at all surprising. She’d been extremely wary of most outsiders in general and very protective of him in particular since the attack. It had taken months for her to warm up to the Weiss brothers after they were given refuge by the pack the previous autumn. And now not only a sudden stranger, but a human at that? Eesh.
But he doubted even Cora would try to harm Stiles. Michael and Ethan wouldn’t dare and Rebecca was more the “watch like a hawk from the shadows” type than one to confront their new guest, at least at this point. Not that he would let down his guard. The younger man was his to protect.
Derek was happy that his older sister at least seemed to take a liking to his human, even as she’d no doubt proceed cautiously, undertaking the due diligence of an Alpha Heir. His mother seemed about the same, provisionally positive, and he’d heard Alys, Valerie, and Yasmin express interest and excitement about him. The three of them were the first to welcome Stiles after his mother’s introductions, the young Visiting fox basically herding them upstairs to join the others on the porch after Valerie came down to speak to them.
Nathan, the 28 year old Visitor who was courting Laura, shook Stiles’ hand. He was used to the human custom due to his pack’s regular proximity to them and pleasantly greeted the teen in his Jamaican-inflected English accent. Malia was merely curious, literally sniffing and poking at the bemused older teen before hmm-ing and wandering off. Matthew slipped away from Great Aunt Tina long enough to make his presence known, shouting happily from a window at Stiles and the others below. Jeremy just watched quietly a ways back.
Valerie took over watching the pup and Great Aunt Tina came over just long enough to inspect Stiles herself. The steely, white-haired woman gave the nervous-smelling youth an acknowledging nod and polite “Hello” before going back toward the house she shared with the other woman and Alys. Grandpa Hale was equally terse though he exuded a greater warmth and opted to stay out on the porch in his rocking chair listening and observing. The elders had witnessed the introduction of numerous outsiders over the years — wolf, human, and other — not all of them trustworthy, and would take their time sussing out the newcomer.
Next came his betas, a grinning Erica dragging the more awkward young men over to meet their Alpha’s ma—Stiles. In a reversal of their usual resting expressions, Boyd wore a small smile and Isaac a slight frown as they became acquainted with him. After a few clumsy starts the teens fell into a lively discussion about high school and other things they had in common.
Derek noted how fascinated Stiles was when Boyd mentioned that they’d been humans too until 5 months ago and he could practically see a thousand more questions bloom behind those whiskey-colored eyes. He smiled and turned away to take in the golden hour as the descending sun painted the sky in beautiful polychrome. Satisfied that Stiles was in good hands and no longer anxious, he wandered a bit further away, back down onto the grass both to get a better view and to give the others some breathing room instead of hovering the whole time.
It was then that he overhead the conversation that Cora, Ethan, and Jeremy were having part way between the Hale house and the modest three bedroom bungalow shared by the latter two and Michael, who Derek spotted huddling with Rebecca and Peter much further away. That group was taking care to speak quietly and out of earshot.
“—give it a rest, Eth” said Jeremy with more than a little exasperation.
“You can’t possibly be okay with this random guy, this human, waltzing in here with Derek of all people,” replied the brash beta. Derek cringed at the slight.
Ethan had come to them through Alpha Satomi, sent to see if he’d be a better fit for the Hales than with her own pack. She had taken him in after the Alpha Pack had imploded in a spectacularly bloody fashion leaving him the sole survivor, but the volatile teenager chaffed at her pack’s customs of meditation, quiet study, and non-violence even after voluntarily relinquishing his tainted Alpha spark. The boisterous then-16 year old had arrived to the Hale homestead only 4 or so months before the Hunter attack and that compounding trauma hadn’t made him any more diplomatic, particularly when it came to Derek.
The younger born wolf didn’t make a point of antagonizing him like his uncle did, but there was often an undercurrent of tension between them. A shadow of judgement in his eyes, which was rich considering the one-time omega and previously power-hungry alpha’s own destructive past and poor decisions, mitigating circumstances aside. Derek had been gullible and reckless, true, but he’d never been cruel. Until this summer both of their eyes had been blue, but for very different reasons.
“I’m just saying not to jump to conclusions,” Jeremy continued.
Cora snorted. “And just wait for a scorpion to strike? It’s in their nature,” she insisted, referencing the common fable. “You know your brother agrees with us.”
Derek saw the three of them glance over to where the mid-20s wolf with dark, shaggy hair was busy whispering with Peter and Rebecca.
Jeremy exhaled forcefully. “Michael is…” he trailed off and shook his head, changing tacks. “Valerie and the new kids were human once. Very recently in their case. You have a problem with them? What about Deaton?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s different,” his sister muttered. “Deaton is a magic user, not a regular human, and he’s been bound to our pack for almost two decades. As for the Bitten, they have skin in the game. They’re one of us whether they like it or not. Hunters don’t care if they were born or made.”
“Uh-huh, suuure,” said Jeremy, teasing.
Isaac had been the one exception to Cora’s usual suspicion. It was hard for anyone with a soul to not want to reassure the anxious and timid affection-starved youth he’d been. Especially when he was, as Cora exclaimed to Laura the day after they met, “ridiculously hotdorable.”
The two of them had dated briefly — Derek stumbled upon them sucking face a few times and promptly made himself scarce —but they’d decided more or less mutually to just be friends. Isaac hadn’t really been in a good place for a relationship and Cora learned that the feelings she’d had for Yasmin were reciprocated after all. The jealous fox had realized she could lose Cora if she didn’t woman up and declare herself, pouncing as soon as his sister was available again despite fears of how her family would react.
It might’ve gone differently if Yasmin was the heir or otherwise higher up in the Ayari Pack’s hierarchy, but she was the youngest of five. After the initial shock her parents were actually thrilled to possibly gain an even stronger alliance with the Hales if they ended up mating in the future even if same-sex unions were rare in their tradition.
Cora glared at Jeremy even as she couldn’t stop herself from blushing.
“Speaking of people you’ve swapped spit with,” Ethan chimed in, causing Jeremy to chortle and his younger sister to look downright murderous, “your girlfriend seemed pretty excited about the human and even Isaac —”
Derek hastily turned back to where his betas were still speaking with Stiles, both out of curiosity and to not let on to that he’d been listening to the other three.
“— seems to like him.”
Isaac was indeed smiling at Stiles now, the energetic teen gesturing wildly as he told the taller boy and a chuckling Boyd and giggling Erica about “shivering ‘Fisherwolf Derek.’” He groaned and rolled his eyes.
“I don’t care if Mother Moon likes him,” he heard Cora reply, gritting her teeth. “I don’t trust him.”
“That’s fine,” Jeremy sighed. “Just don’t do anything stupid. You either, Ethan. Derek seems to really care for him.”
“Yeah, and that went so well the last time,“ said Ethan, sharply.
Derek closed his eyes, warring between lashing out at the insolent beta or slinking away in shame. Cora had gone quiet, but he knew she was on the same page as the outspoken wolf. As the silence stretched on he felt the intense urge to defend his mate much more than himself. Stiles wasn’t her. Needless to say, he was aggravated.
Hold it together.
Derek wanted nothing more than to grab his human and get far away from the accusations and suspicions. He stopped filtering out the surrounding sounds in hopes of drowning them out, but that didn’t help matters much. Several other conversations now bled into his awareness and he and Stiles were, of course, the topic of every one. Even the more good natured observations and idle speculations set his teeth on edge.
“—a fine-looking boy.”
“He seems a bit different, right? More…settled? Maybe it’s good thing.”
“I didn’t realize Derek swung that way—“
“—hope this doesn’t explode in our faces.”
“I just wanna know how with him not being able to—“
“I can hear it now: ‘Being exiled by psychos and taken in by werewolves is no excuse for missing last week’s test on covalent bonds, Stilinski. Detention!’”
The sound of his betas laughing.
“—should give him a fair chance. The fact that he hasn’t run screaming, especially meeting Derek first—”
“He’s gotta be related to that man, the one that—“
“Do you think he’ll stick around?”
“—if there’s anything amiss you know Peter will find—“
“—last thing he needs is more heartbreak.”
Enough.
Derek took several deep breaths and drew back his hearing once more, which of course caused him to hone in on the initial conversation again.
“—could’ve hurt him out there if he wanted to, but he didn’t, Ethan.”
“Argent didn’t attack us right away either.”
Derek flinched.
“Exactly, Cor. Why take out one when you can bring down the whole pack?”
“You seriously think that guy is an evil mastermind? And also stupid enough to try some shit with everyone and their Alpha on high alert?”
“Are you seriously willing to risk it? It’s not like we’re the only ones that know how malicious and stupid they are.”
“It was Hunters that did that,” Jeremy snarled. “Are you forgetting that there were humans in my pack? My cousins, Lucas and Abigail. One of my best friends, Simone, who hadn’t even grown up knowing about anything supernatural. They aren’t any less dead than the wolves.”
“I-I didn’t mean…I’m sorry…” Cora mumbled.
There were several moments of tense, uncomfortable silence. To no one’s surprise, Ethan was the one to break it.
“I’m just saying, I don’t know what it is with your brother and these fucking hum…er, outsiders. He can’t get it up for a wolf or something? A nice fox or coyote? Hell, even a pack human or magic user. I just can’t believe he’s done it again, glommed onto the first rando shitfless he comes across. For all the guilty moping around, it sure seems like he doesn’t actually care about putting everyone at risk—”
Derek fought to stay calm, but began emitting a continuous low-level growl.
When he opened his now glowing eyes he saw the three of them watching him. Jeremy paled and quickly looked down at the ground. Cora had a fleeting expression of remorse before crossing her arms and raising her chin stubbornly, though she lowered her gaze just enough to avoid his. Ethan stood there looking back at him brazenly with a defiant, chest-out posture.
Derek felt himself grow hot, his vision literally turning red now. He stared the beta down, slowly baring his teeth in a silent snarl. He was about to advance on the younger wolf, the alpha in him compelled to answer such a challenge, when Ethan finally turned his head to the side, averting his eyes and showing his neck. The prideful beta tried to play it off like it just so happened that something caught his attention elsewhere, but they all knew he’d submitted and that was enough for Derek’s wolf. Barely.
He huffed and turned his back on them, hearing Jeremy quietly hiss “Seriously, Ethan?!”
His betas had of course noticed the fraught interaction, but were still giving enough of their attention to an oblivious Stiles to keep him distracted from what had been happening behind his back. Derek was relieved that the human hadn’t been frightened or worried unnecessarily. He nodded at The Trio, sending affection and gratitude through their bonds, and then jerked his head to the side.
He started climbing the stairs, ready to collect his mate as the betas quickly ended their conversation and said their goodbyes. Before he could reach them Laura, who he assumed had been observing Stiles and surely also witnessed the drama, made her way toward them. Derek groaned internally.
Laura winked at him before smiling at Stiles and engaging him in small talk. A couple minutes later she casually offered him a room in the Hale House. His room. Derek felt queasy. He couldn’t…couldn’t stay there and he also couldn’t bear to be apart from the inquisitive younger man. Involuntarily, he flashed his eyes and began rumbling possessively, embracing Stiles from behind. Derek pulled him a step back as if she was going to snatch him away.
His sister held up her hands and shot him an apologetic look as Stiles half-turned to pat his shoulder. “Well, I guess you’re staying in the Struggle Shack,” she said to the teen, amused. Derek grumbled and rolled his eyes at how Cora’s nickname had taken root.
He cringed when Stiles mentioned that it was fine with him and that he’d been sheltering in the den. She was no doubt about to chastise him, but Stiles looked up at him sweetly and told her he’d enjoyed being there with Derek. He couldn’t help puffing up and purring at his mate’s approval and Laura watched the two of them with a tender expression on her face.
“You better keep a hold of this one. He’s a rare bird for sure,” she said to him, eyes sparkling.
Mine he thought, burying his nose in Stiles’ neck and inhaling his delicious scent. Laura was wrapping up their chat, but Derek was at his limit. He stepped between them, turned around, and simply picked up the human, who gave off happy-amused-aroused pheromones as Laura, Yasmin, Valerie, Nathan, and his mother all laughed. Derek hurried off with him toward the…sigh…the Struggle Shack.
When they arrived and he put Stiles down outside the teen was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and half hard from where his groin had rubbed against Derek’s trotting body. He flashed his eyes at his mate and Stiles attempted to lead him inside, but promptly tripped over something dark set before the doorway. Instantly he retracted his claws and caught the flailing young man, steadying him before leaning down and picking up the offending item.
It was a large, black bag made out of thick plastic with a clipped nozzle ending in a perforated cap. A camping shower bag. And the water inside was hot. Alys, he thought fondly, detecting her maple-cherry-whisky scent.
“Duuude!” Stiles exclaimed, feeling up the 5 gallon bladder like it was the best thing in the world and he was about to start making out with it. “Let’s shower and then all the cuddles and stuff.”
As Derek climbed onto the raised platform and hung the bag on its overhead hook, Stiles riffled through the covered bin next to it finding clean towels and washcloths and more mildly scented toiletries. They quickly undressed and squeezed into the lavatory cubicle together. After a few mishaps with elbows and stepping on toes, they decided to take turns standing still as the other soaped them up. Derek rinsed off first and then got out, the human sighing happily when he stood under the heated spray and had a thorough dousing.
“Mmm, this definitely beats the cold-ass river or using like, a liter or two at most to wash up.” Derek grunted in agreement.
Stiles didn’t budge until the shower bag was empty and then they dried off, heading inside the humble structure. There were a few jugs of drinking water near the door and two small bins with an assortment of items: combs and deodorant, toothbrushes, toothpaste and floss, and hand sanitizer and wipes in one and a set of four plates, cups, bowls, and utensils plus dish soap and sponges in the other.
A nest of clean sheets, blankets, and pillows greeted them over a thick new mattress topper that was now stacked over the thin sleeping pads he’d used before, taking up almost half of the space inside the approximately 8x10 structure. Stiles moaned at the sight of all that softness and dropped his towel before launching himself onto the bedding, rolling around and continuing to make happy noises until he came to rest on his belly. His mate’s antics had an immediate effect on Derek, who quickly crawled onto the low, but comfortable platform and laid on top of the naked human.
Derek ground his now hard cock against his the younger man’s ass, licking at the back of his neck and Stiles shuddered beneath him, gasping with his face half sinking into a fluffy pillow. After a minute or two the human started wiggling and Derek let up enough to allow him to turn onto his back, still rutting against him slowly.
“Hi,” said Stiles looking up at him with a soft smile and bright eyes. Derek tried to say it back, but it was like the word caught in his throat and only a grunt came out. He stilled and clenched his jaw, closing his eyes. Why? Why can’t you just be normal? He deserves better than this, than you.
“Shhh,” Stiles soothed, tracing Derek’s brows with slender fingers. “It’s okay. You’ll get it back again, you’ll see.” He felt soft lips against his cheek. “Look at me, Der.”
He opened his eyes to his mate staring back with determination. “You did it before and you’ll do it again. And whether it’s a day or a month or a year from now, I’ll be there.” The teen grinned mischievously. “Okay, oo-rot-zay vilk?”
There were those foreign sounds again. He made a noise of inquiry.
“It’s Polish,” Stiles answered unhelpfully. He narrowed his eyes and the human giggled. Derek pinched one of his nipples with blunt fingers, causing him to jolt upward.
The smirking teen swatted him and whispered slowly in his ear. “I’ll tell you if you’re good.”
Blood rushed south again at the syrupy heat in his voice and Derek growled. Stiles laid back again and bit his bottom lip while meeting his steadily red gaze, circling his hips and pressing against Derek pleasurably. “Now stop worrying and love on me,” his mate commanded, baring his throat and spreading his legs.
Derek didn’t have to be told twice. He dove into the offered expanse of flesh, inhaling and licking where it met a deceptively broad shoulder and nuzzling upward while grinding between the parted thighs, their erections rubbing together deliciously. He ran his hands over the younger man’s sides and down over his firm ass, squeezing before sliding up again. Stiles moaned and writhed against him more vigorously, guiding his head toward a pert nipple.
His fangs receded as he laved it with his tongue and he switched to nibbling and tugging at the rosy protuberance, earning soft whimpers. Letting a hand take over teasing his responsive mate’s chest, Derek leaned up to capture his mouth, kissing him long, slow, and deep. When Stiles came up for air he spoke between gasps.
“Oo-rot-zay. Vilk. It means. Adorable. Wolf.”
Derek chuffed and bite the side of his neck, soothing the area with his tongue before sucking a large bruise onto the pale flesh. The human chuckled. A moment later Derek flipped them over so that the surprised teen was now astride him. Stiles sat up partway, hands braced on his chest. Groaning, Derek firmly held onto to the younger man’s hips and continued to thrust, his mate soon finding a rhythm and grinding down upon him as well.
Flushed, Stiles reached down with a hand between them to spread their combined precum over both of them, grasping their cocks together and giving them several long strokes before returning the hand to Derek’s chest to keep his balance. Derek released one hip and placed two fingers against his open mouth. Stiles licked the waiting digits and then sucked them while looking back at him with half-lidded eyes. Derek growled at the sight. Have to be inside. When his fingers were sopping wet he withdrew his hand and reached around to press against the gyrating younger man’s hole.
Slowing, but not stopping, Stiles nodded at him and he slipped a finger inside the hot passage. Mine, his wolf crowed and he agreed. Derek alternated between thrusting in and out and moving in a circle. He added a second one and reached deeper, looking for…
Stiles clenched against him and cried out. There. He thrust against that spot over and over, the teen quivering and keening. Claim, the wolf howled. Not now. Derek pushed his animal side back and re-focused on his efforts. He pulled the human down with his other arm and held him pressed against his chest, licking into his mouth and then placing more hickeys on his throat while continuing to target his prostate without mercy.
Stiles tensed up as his climax approached and Derek speed up, snarling. Come for me. As if his mate could hear the internal command the younger man’s orgasm spread through him like a shockwave, his body rhythmically contracting around Derek’s still moving fingers as liquid warmth pulsed between them.
He continued until Stiles was spent and whining then turned them over once more, pulling back to feast on the sight of the debauched youth below him. Derek slid his cock between the cleft of his ass and rolled his hips a dozen or so times until he came with a roar, spurting over his mate’s backside and then between his thighs. He laid on top of Stiles and rubbed their bodies together, spreading their combined scents even more. Derek peppered kisses on the younger man’s upturned lips and his closed eyelids. Then he slid half off to the side.
Stiles promptly wrapped his once more working limbs around Derek like an octopus, murmuring “Eh-ro-tich-nay vilk” and snuggling even closer. “Erotic Wolf.”
Derek grinned and left another hickey over the human’s nearest clavicle, tweaking the nipple on the other side and causing the younger man to moan contentedly. They lazed about cuddling until their stomachs’ increasing complaints of emptiness had Derek getting up to search for food. He gestured to Stiles, asking if he wanted to come with, but the teen just burrowed back in the blankets and made puppy-dog eyes while smelling of anxiety and embarrassment.
Derek shook his head at his mate fondly, cleaning his hands before just pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants and going outside. Stiles was clearly worried and uncomfortable about the whole pack knowing what they’d been up to. Eventually he’d get used to it, but Derek didn’t want to push him.
He had no such compunctions though, so he proudly jogged up to the homestead. He was just planning to grab some shelf-stable stuff from the pantry shed where staples available for the whole pack were kept — perhaps a simple meal of crackers, peanut butter, and jam from their own fruit trees for now — but was waylaid by his betas. The grinning, wolf-whistling Trio presented him with a basket packed with a variety of foods.
Derek exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, but then scented each of the younger wolves with affection and opened his arms to embrace them all. They stood there together for a few minutes, thanks and joy and amusement and affection flowing through their bonds. Then with a final squeeze to each of their shoulders he rushed off to return to his human with the unexpected bounty.
“That was fast,” Stiles said, zeroing in on the laden basket set before him. He started bouncing as he perused its contents, getting more excited as he revealed each item. There were three kinds of sandwiches, sliced apples and pears, and a thermos of what looked and smelled like roasted red pepper and tomato bisque. A spinach and kale salad with diced beets, crumbled goat cheese, cranberries, and walnuts with balsamic vinaigrette on the side. Finally, another thermos of hot sweetened tea, two cups, utensils, and cloth napkins.
The younger man went for a roast beef, smoked gouda, and caramelized onion sandwich with spicy brown mustard first and promptly moaned in appreciation. It wasn’t made from deli meat, but thick cut beef actually carved from a home-cooked-roast. Derek found himself craving the tangy flavors of cured and pickled foods which he hadn’t had in quite some time and started with a salami, pepperoni, and provolone sandwich with lettuce, sun-dried tomatoes, pepperoncinis, and grainy dijon mustard with a drizzle of olive oil red wine vinegar and a sprinkling of black pepper. He rumbled in pleasure. Yeah, being back in civilization definitely had its upsides.
Stiles gestured wildly while continuing to stuff his face and make ecstatic sounds. Derek took that to mean “How did you get all of this?” He smiled and pointed at himself and then raised three fingers. After a few moments, he held up three fingers again and then mimed rocking a baby and wolfed out. Stiles sounded it out after swallowing his bite of food. “You three…three…baby…werewo—oh! Your betas!” the teen exclaimed. He nodded.
“Aww, that was very sweet of them,” Stiles said, picking up a slice of pear. “Swod-ki vil-ki.” He leaned toward Derek and kissed his nose. “You’re the sweetest wolf of all, though,” he added with an impish grin. “Moij swod-ki vilk.” Derek huffed and blushed.
They drank some of the tea, ate the soup and salad and split a ham, Swiss, cheddar, and honey mustard croissant sandwich, saving the fruit and rest of the sandwiches for later. Stiles sat up on the makeshift bed, wedging a pillow between his back and the the wall, and Derek rested his head on the younger man’s chest. He closed his eyes as Stiles ran those clever fingers through his hair and told him about his impressions of the pack members he’d met so far.
The scary (Cora, of course,) the intriguing (Malia,) and the intimidating, but nice (his mother.) The friendly (Yasmin, Alys, Valerie, and Nathan,) the different scary and vaguely judgmental (Great Aunt Tina,) and the quiet (his grandfather.) The easygoing and interesting (Laura) and the fun and relatable (The Trio.) And of course the amusing and adorable (Matthew.) Stiles leaned over to grab his backpack and took out the small, wrinkled notebook and a pen to start writing.
“I need to contact my dad,” he stated after filling a few pages. “But I have a feeling that’ll be easier said than done.” Derek looked up at him sadly and nodded. The teen sighed and smelled upset. Derek whined.
“I’m not mad at you, Swod-ki,” Stiles muttered, closing his eyes and letting his head thunk against the wall. Derek heard his mate’s breaths speed up and shortly after smelled the salt of tears. He quickly got up, stripped off his clothes, and full shifted. The human stretched out his legs and he crawled over him, laying across his lap and curled up so that his head was on a thigh. Stiles sank both hands into his fur, heart calming as he pet Derek’s fluffy wolf form.
After a while the younger man scooted down so he could lay flat and Derek shifted back to hold him close. “We’ll figure it out,” Stiles said, with a small lopsided smile.
Derek tried to smile back reassuringly, kissing the corner of a damp eyelid and rubbing their noses together before lowering his face and nuzzling into Stiles’ throat. I hope so.