Chapter Text
Artwork by asyndetonic
June | Strawberry Full Moon | abundance, love, and the culmination of hard work.
Derek had never considered himself outstanding in the leadership department. Even his teachers in school had called him an ‘excellent worker who succeeds with guidance.’ He was never the captain of the basketball team, never the captain of the swim team; and now here he was an Alpha like he never should have been. But what was the alternative? Let Scott kill Peter and take on the responsibility of becoming an Alpha and murderer when he didn’t even want to be a wolf in the first place? No, better to have Derek take on the mantle of the Hale Pack than have Scott’s eyes turn blue from the guilt. Scott and Stiles had already decided he was a murderer before even knowing him; why not the rest of the world too?
And then the Kanima.
If he doubted himself before, the Kanima situation just proved how unready he really was to lead. He stumbled, he fell, he made Erica and Boyd leave, he had to kill Jackson—but what was another body when they just piled up around you. Luckily Jackson didn’t actually die and had agreed despite Derek’s behavior to join Isaac as his Beta.
Scott, on the other hand, had made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with any of them. Derek had been about to beg Peter to be a Beta just so he’d have full power again when out of nowhere Boyd and Erica found their way back to him. Understanding there were no other Packs but Derek around, they joined back because ‘Pack saves Pack’. When Derek asked what they meant, they wove stories about the basement Gerard had kept them in until Stiles—their Pack member— had rescued them.
That had surprised Derek for two reasons: one, Derek had never said Stiles was Pack to anyone, and two, he was pretty sure Stiles was the one who came up with the plan to use mountain ash in the pills. It screamed a plan of intelligence and Derek didn't consider Scott to have nearly that much forethought.
Stiles had been the one with the mountain ash at the club when they were hunting the Kanima and Scott had been so adamant that no one get hurt. Stiles didn't have such compunctions once it wasn't Lydia and Derek doubted that Scott would be the one to give an old man—hunter or not—pills that would kill him with the bite. It had to be a Stiles plan.
Derek couldn’t explain why, but that hurt the most.
The Argents had decided to leave Beacon Hills after Gerard had tried to… after Gerard died, which meant there was room for Derek to breathe for just a second and recover with his whole but still fractured Pack. They were one bad day from breaking again so Derek did the only thing he could think of to try and keep them together.
He took them to the cabin.
Sunday, May 29th 2011
“Why do we have to hike to this magnificent cabin?” Jackson lamented loudly, tripping over another rock in his designer shoes that Derek had told him not to wear. He nearly dropped his bag in puddle and Derek had a fleeting thought of tripping Jackson so it would happen. “Couldn’t we, I don’t know, drive our cars we brought up here?”
Because it’s tradition, Derek grit his teeth as he pushed forward. Jackson wouldn’t understand the importance of leaving your scent so others could find your path: the way new wolves in the Pack found their way as the first test of the summer. None of them actually cared about the wolf part and were only here because Derek said summer get away. They just wanted to party and drink away from Beacon Hills.
Teenagers.
“We’re almost there,” Derek assured them, though he was ready to lead them further into the woods and make them find him on their own at this point. Maybe then they would actually listen to him when he talked about wolf-related things.
Don’t do it, they’ll just hate you more. Derek’s thoughts twisted through his mind as the sound of the river grew louder. Relief spread through his body as he realized they were almost to the cabin.
Derek walked them up a little further past the trees he remembered from his childhood, the morning sun casting beautiful shadows through golden and red leaves to the ground below. The colors were rare in the summer months in California, but not up here. Everything was like a fairytale still, even though it had been six years since he had smelled this fresh air.
Thoughts of the past filled his head as they turned another curve up the path. He swore he could almost see the ghost of his former self running through the trees with his siblings and cousins; echos of excited chatter floating through the leaves. At first Derek had thought coming to the cabin would be painful, but every thought was warm and safe here.
The ghosts were welcoming.
It was only another half hour before they reached the little one-person foot bridge that crossed the river into the official territory. It was worn, but sturdy, and the stone pathway only showed minor signs of growth between them. Derek could tell that even if the Hales hadn’t been using it, adventurous hikers or animals must have on their way to the lake.
The lake. Canoeing, swimming, laying on the little island in the middle… Derek’s nostalgia threatened a smile against his lips, but the grumbled complaints from his Betas forced a scowl there instead. But despite his initial thought to say something snarky, he responded to each of their complaints.
Begrudgingly.
“Do we have bug spray or something?” asked Erica.
“No.”
“Is Scott coming?” Isaac hinted.
“No.”
“I have like, no cell service here. Are you sure we’re even going the right way?” Jackson talked over all of them like Jackson always seemed to do.
“Yes.”
“Are we going to eat when we get there?” Boyd asked the first sensible thing since they started.
Derek took a moment to center himself before looking at Boyd to give more than a one word answer. “We can have lunch when we get there.”
He ignored Jackson’s pout and led the Pack over the bridge and through the last line of trees. And there it was, waiting for them, just like he remembered: slanted roofs, timber frame, huge windows, widows walk over the massive porch, fire pit, and the treehouse nestled in the back on the old oak tree.
A wind picked up from the north and made the trees sway in greeting.
“This is it? We hiked for an hour for this?" Jackson’s voice was grating and Derek had to tell himself not to push him into the river. “And why is there a car here if we’re not supposed to bring them!”
Derek frowned and looked to where a bright red Mercedes was parked in the grass under the picnic shelter where the tables used to be. The squatter had pulled them to the side like they were useless hunks of wood and not handmade by Derek’s dad and uncle.
That made him a little upset.
“Stay here.” He growled, holding his hand out before stalking forward.
The sound of heartbeats rose from the four Betas behind, even if they weren’t saying anything Derek knew that this was the worst start to the safe, protected summer he promised everyone. His own confidence had started to fade with every step he took—could the hunters have known he was going to be here? Were they going to strike at them now that Derek was outside of Beacon Hills?
Derek took a lap around the back of the cabin and saw the Mercedes wasn’t the only car here. Nestled beside it just out of view was a blue Jeep. Derek’s heart stopped for a brief second as he approached it, hand hovering over the handle of the driver side. He knew it was stupid, but some part of him thought if he touched it, it would disappear like a mirage. Yet as his fingers brushed the metal handle, he felt the very real and tangible thing. Closing his eyes, Derek inhaled the chemo signals around him: petrichor, ginger, and a splash of peppermint.
Stiles was very annoyed at something.
Before he had time to actually break down why Stiles would be at his family’s cabin and annoyed, the door opened.
“Derek?”
He turned from the Jeep and saw Stiles standing in the door frame with an expression he couldn’t read. Instantly, Derek felt a warming sense of comfort and ease as he saw him and it all came crashing down around him. Everything Derek had wanted to say for the last month while he had been avoiding Stiles bubbled to the roof of his mouth and stuck like tar against the back of his teeth: Why didn’t you tell me the plan? Why was I left in the dark? Why did you lie to me? Why would you use me like that?
Every question punctuated the pronouns as if Derek couldn’t believe that Stiles would do that to him. But then again, Derek had never been good at reading people’s intentions it seemed.
He swallowed the questions down and just stared at the human as he crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Bird watching, I heard a yellow-bellied tit was in the area. Seen one?” Stiles crossed his arms and leaned against the door.
“Looking at one now.” It came out rougher than he intended and Derek could see Stiles’ face fall into a very annoyed look before he pushed himself off the frame. He decided to double down, keeping his tone steady. “Shouldn’t you be in California?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
Stiles mimicked Derek’s expression now and all Derek wanted to do was shove him against the wall to get him to stop. Stiles was the one on private property—yet again—but Derek knew it wouldn’t do any good for either of them if he reacted. “How did you find this place?”
“I followed Peter.”
Peter? Derek turned his head to look at the Mercedes, putting two and two together now. He had told his uncle he was going to take the Betas up to the cabin and that Peter should stay in Beacon Hills. So of course, that meant Peter had to show up unannounced.
“After you sent me that stupid text, I thought you were kidnapped.” Stiles shoved his hands in his jeans and produced his phone before tapping it against his thigh. “And then no one was answering their phones, so really this is all your fault that I’m stuck here.”
“Stuck here?” Derek had been about to ask for more clarification when the Betas came around the corner.
“Stiles!” Erica cried before running up and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Are you here for the Pack bonding shit too?”
“Is Scott with you?” Isaac asked, looking into the cabin and pushing past Derek like he wasn’t even there.
Derek could tell his part in the conversation was over and turned to walk around the wrap around porch to the other entrance not blocked by teenagers asking stupid questions. It had nothing to do with the sudden spike in Derek’s pulse that Stiles was here acting like nothing had happened. Or the fact that Stiles seemed to care that Derek had been in potential danger. No, it was stupid teenager chatter that had his blood curling and his heart clenching. Not Stiles.
It wasn’t Stiles.
Throwing the door open to the main cabin, he walked in and inhaled the scent of it all. Nothing and everything had changed in the last six years. As Derek glanced around, he could see that every corner was filled with memories he thought he had forgotten: the old overstuffed chairs his parents used to sit in next to the fireplace, worn shelves still stuffed with books that they would read every night before bed, simple kitchen that always had trays of snacks waiting at all hours, huge table and chairs where puzzles and boardgames were played…
And in his usual spot on the gingham couch: Peter, sitting with a book in hand. The older wolf didn’t even look up as he flipped a page.
“I made sloppy joes but they might need to be reheated. I thought you would have been here hours ago with how loud you all were on the trail.”
Derek took a slow breath, trying not to seem upset despite the wolf belittling him the minute he could.
“They didn’t want to do the exercise.”
“Pity. They could use the practice.” Peter flipped another page nonchalantly, still not looking up.
A low growl escaped his throat. “At least I wasn’t followed.”
That made Peter pause, close the book around his finger, and look up at Derek. “What makes you think I didn’t lead him here on purpose?”
The door opened and the five teenagers came bustling in mid conversation, Derek shutting down any additional argument he had planned in his head. He had to play the Alpha now, even if he didn’t feel like it.
“Pick your rooms, then come back down for more training.” Derek watched as Erica’s mouth opened like she was going to ask a question and he pointed up the stairs. “No sharing rooms, no one is cohabiting here. Understand?”
Grumbled replies followed as they started marching up the stairs to the second floor, even Peter stood up from the couch to obey, which left Derek alone with Stiles again. Silence fell over the two of them again, which wasn’t unusual for them, but it felt strained. Even when Derek had been actively dying in Stiles’ Jeep it hadn’t felt this way. The questions circled around his mind again, wondering if asking one or all would help alleviate the tension he felt or if it would just snap what they had tentatively put in place these last months.
You just don’t want to be alone again a voice whispered in the back of his mind. And if you push him away, he’ll take everything with him.
“Peter made food.” Stiles interrupted Derek’s thoughts and for a moment Derek thought he was going to say something more. Maybe apologize, explain, something that would bring them closer to what they had been before. Not that they had been anything before, but they at least had been allies at some point.
Disappointed that Stiles didn’t say anything, Derek crossed his arms and looked away. “He told me.”
Stiles huffed and Derek could smell the scent of annoyance coming off him again. At least Derek could still elicit some emotion from him still. “Did he also tell you that my Jeep won’t start and I’m pretty sure he’s the one who did it?”
Derek didn’t say anything, just lifted a brow.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“It’s just my face, what do you want me to do?” Derek retorted dryly, keeping his face stone as he smelled Stiles’ chemo signals take on an additional scent of grapefruit: his annoyance was tinted with amusement.
“You could put a paper bag on your head,” suggested Stiles as he turned to face Derek head on. “Or a plastic one, maybe tighten it around your neck?”
The smell grew stronger, even though Stiles still looked like he was upset, and Derek found himself taking a step toward him. “I could find something to tighten around your neck.”
“And I thought we were past the threatening stage.” Stiles didn’t back down, but something in his eyes flickered dangerously.
It took everything Derek had not to shove him back onto the couch in frustration.
“You shouldn’t be here. You should be spending your summer with Scott.” Derek’s throat tightened as he said Scott’s name, grateful Peter wasn’t down here listening to the conversation. If he had heard even the slightest tick of Derek’s breath, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.
For some reason, that made Stiles’ face fall more than the threats of Derek strangling him. “You’re not the only one not answering your texts.”
Derek closed his eyes, thinking about how easy it would be to just push Stiles out. He knew he could fix the Jeep; his mom’s tools were still in the shed and whatever was wrong probably wouldn’t have been that hard to fix. Stiles could be back on the road and in Beacon Hills all alone with everyone ignoring him. Then Derek really would be the bad guy Stiles saw him as.
It would be easier than trying to prove yourself to someone who doesn’t care.
“Go pick a room.” Derek muttered and walked up the stairs.
Monday, June 6th 2011
“You still haven’t found them all. Again!” Derek called out, the sounds of groans following as the Pack turned on their heels and began running down the trail again. For today’s exercise, he had hidden every one of those stupid boardgame pieces that Peter used when they were kids. While Derek didn’t exactly care if one or two went missing in the wild, he knew Peter did.
He could feel Peter’s eyes on his back, judging him.
“How many of these are there?” Stiles asked, Derek turning to see him sitting on the picnic table sorting through the pieces. He had picked up one of the supposed werewolf vinyl figures, but the paint had peeled over the years leaving it impossible to tell without prior knowledge. Derek’s eyes trailed down to the sinewy fingers rolling the piece between them and found himself thinking about other things they had held.
Derek looked back to the forest quickly. “Peter had collected about 40 of these things.”
“And Peter expects all of them back in their box at the end of the exercise!” his uncle’s voice was almost sing-songy as he stepped up beside Derek. “All 43 of them.”
“They’ll find them all.”
Out of the corner of his vision he saw Peter’s eyebrows rise up in doubt before he let out a small tch. “Your faith in wolves bitten less than three months ago astounds me.”
“Weren’t you the one trying to get Scott to hunt with you his first moon?”
Stiles’ voice carried over their little argument, and both Derek and Peter turned to see him still playing with the figures on the table. He had stacked them up in a strange little pyramid that came crashing down as Stiles tried to add another on top, unaware or unbothered by the comment he had just made.
“Different situations, but I rescind my judgment.” Peter turned away first but Derek swore he saw a little curl of a smile on his uncle’s face.
Stiles shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself off the table. “What’s this type of exercise supposed to do anyways?”
Derek crossed his arms in silence and before he could find the words to explain, Erica stomped up the trail with a handful of little figures. Not far behind her Isaac and Boyd followed up with Jackson taking up the rear. It had only been four hours, but Derek could see the Betas dragging their feet as they dropped their handfuls onto the table. He counted them quickly: 39.
“Four more to go.”
Everyone let out the loudest groans yet, Jackson clearly reaching his breaking point. “What the hell are all these stupid test for anyways! These last few weeks we’ve been doing nothing but stupid scavenger hunts and endurance runs.”
“How is this going to help us find our anchors?” Erica asked as she stepped up beside Jackson. “You told us you were going to teach us how to be better wolves.”
The Pack was standing behind Jackson now with looks of disapproval, all of them clearly tired and upset. Derek knew the full moon was only a week away and emotions were bound to be high, but that didn’t give them the excuse of questioning him.
‘I am teaching you how to be better wolves, you just have to actually do the exercises.’ Derek almost said, but instead he tightened his crossed arms and stood in stone silence. Everyone was talking over him anyways and if he let them get their grievances out, maybe he could actually explain what each exercise was for.
“If I wanted to do drills, I would have stayed in Beacon Hills for Lacrosse,” Jackson continued before sitting on the picnic bench next to Stiles. “Even Stiles is bored.”
Derek’s head snapped so fast in Stiles’ direction that Stiles flinched, which made him feel a little guilty. It hadn’t been his intention, but then again, some of the worst things Derek had done were with the best intentions.
Stiles adjusted himself on the table, shrugging his shoulder. “Not bored, just…”
“Bored,” Erica interrupted him. “You said it yourself last night.”
“I said I was bored that I couldn’t do the wolfy things,” he corrected, but he didn’t meet Derek’s eyes as he said it. A soft scent of anise tinged the air and Derek knew he was lying. Derek had fixed the Jeep two days after they got here and Stiles had been the one who chose to stay, Derek wasn’t holding him hostage. If he was so bored, why was he still here?
Derek tightened his arms again, fingers digging into his own muscles to keep himself from just barking out something he would regret. He took his time to think of all the things he could say to the group: ‘These are drills my family did growing up and I’m sharing them with you’; ‘This is how I learned to track and become stronger’; ‘I thought this would be something fun for all of us’.
But doubt crept into his mind again, so he settled on, “anyone else have complaints?”
The Betas were quiet again and Derek took that as a no. Finally, he’d be able to go through the importance of this exercise, of all their exercises. As he was about to clarify all of their concerns, Isaac spoke up.
“I’m hungry, can we eat?”
Derek’s eyebrow twitched as he fought the urge to yell. Clearly nothing was going to get through to them. Why do you think they’d even care if you did tell them?
“If you’re all so tired of this, then just go have lunch. I’ll find the rest.” Derek snapped and stomped through the trees away from the Pack.
Tuesday, June 14th 2011
Derek sent the axe down into the chunk of wood with a satisfying thwunk, the two pieces spiting apart and flying on either side of him. They didn’t need anymore firewood, but he was tired of tiptoeing around the Betas in the cabin. This at least got him out of the house.
Since the scent-and-find exercise debacle, Derek had stopped all attempts at training them. It was frustrating, but no one cared what he had to say so why waste breath with it. They clearly didn’t care about anything other than what they wanted to do, so Derek wouldn’t care either. He’d just let them do whatever they wanted.
Maybe then they’ll listen.
He lined another piece of wood on the chopping block and let the axe fall down with another thwunk. The wood exploded from the strength of the swing, splintering around his legs as he took that as a sign to be done.
Scooping up the pieces that weren’t useless, he clutched them to his bare chest and walked over to the fire pit to dump them on the overflowing pile. As the wood settled, Derek thought about the last campfire that had been here: Laura taking the last of the marshmallows as she always did, Peter leaning against the pine tree pretending to be asleep, Cora and Caleb bickering softly over something he couldn’t remember, his aunt and cousins gathering around as his father pulled out his old guitar.
Derek had never been a guitar person, but the acoustic Indian rosewood had been his father’s pride and joy. It had been played to death before it most likely had been burned with the rest of the memories, but Derek remembered how happy his father had been every time.
Closing his eyes, Derek could almost hear the twang of the strings being tuned and strummed. His father’s rough fingers that never healed sliding up and down the ebony fretboard while plucking the start of whatever song he thought they wanted to sing that night. Everyone had a favorite and Derek’s was—
His eyes opened as he realized it wasn’t music in his memory but someone actually plucking the strings of the guitar in the cabin. Before his brain caught up with his heart, Derek began racing up the stairs to the cabin. Throat tight, heart racing, logic flying out the window as he opened the door quickly.
Dad.
On the armchair where his father used to sit was Boyd with a guitar in his hand. He was plucking the strings, tuning the old thing slowly as everyone else chatted quietly around the room. Derek’s heart sank into his stomach as he saw that it was his father’s guitar—the one Derek had thought was destroyed in the fire.
“Boyd found it in the closet.” Peter’s voice sounded far away, even though Derek could clearly see him sitting on the couch closest to Derek. “We were talking about having a campfire tonight before the full moon tomorrow since everyone has control right now.”
“I still think we should have invited Scott,” Isaac added, lazily spread out in the chair where Derek’s mom used to sit. “He’s part of the Pack and if Stiles is here, he should be.”
Derek’s whole body stiffened. Isaac had been there the night of the kanima, and while he had been bleeding from Allison’s daggers, he would still have heard Scott’s proclamation:
‘You might be an Alpha... but you're not mine.’
The phrase echoed through Derek’s mind again, words bouncing back and forth like dissonant whispers. It wasn’t that Scott had left his Pack—Erica and Boyd had done it in the hopes of finding a new one before returning to him—it was the way he had done it. Derek could still taste Gerard’s blood in his mouth, tainted with mountain ash that made him puke hours after; the look on Scott’s face like he saw Derek as nothing more than a tool.
Just like…
He felt his heartbeat skip as the thoughts turned darker than he wanted to think about at the cabin. The guitar didn’t help, every little strum vibrating through his body and setting his teeth on edge.
“Scott is not part of the Pack. He made his choice,” Derek’s voice was harsher than he intended, but with the full moon and everything on his mind, he needed to get away from them. If he stayed here any longer, he was going to do something that they’d all regret.
Without looking back, Derek pushed himself through the door and out into the woods. His throat felt tight, each step into the woods fighting off the symptoms of an impending anxiety attack.
“Fuck,” Derek whispered as he stopped in the middle of the path and closed his eyes. The irritability was clearly in full swing, but if he just focused on his anger, his anchor, his hands would stop shaking. At least they usually did.
Laura had been the one to call him out on it—the sudden irritably, shutting down, heart beating like crazy—but he had never actually wanted to admit that was the problem. He wasn’t anxious. Unless he thought about Kate or the Argents or the fire or Laura or Gerard.
Or Scott.
Derek gripped his trembling fist tighter, trying to center himself in any way possible. His anchor wasn’t working, the Pack bond wasn’t working, and he was falling deeper into his own spiral. Pinpricks of tears began to form at his frustration and all he could hear was his heart beating inside his ears, his breath coming out short.
“Derek?”
Stiles’ voice carried over his heartbeat, piercing through the noise and leveling out his heart. He could breathe again. Once his hands had stopped shaking, he turned to see Stiles standing on the path looking unimpressed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.
“What was that? You just run off when everyone was trying to get some answers?”
Even when he was berating him, Derek’s heart rate returned to normal; his head finding calm in the presence of him. Shaved head, angry brown eyes, nose slightly upturned; Stiles’ very presence was settling him. Grounding him.
He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t trust that his voice wouldn’t waver or break, so he just shrugged.
“Always with the shrugging and the eyebrows and the—” Stiles waved his hand over his face and dropped his arm with a huff. “You know it wouldn’t kill you to use your words.”
Derek’s mouth twisted in a deeper frown before he carefully answered him. “It might.”
That made Stiles roll his eyes, but Derek could smell there was at least a little glimmer of something other than annoyed. “Maybe the Alpha that takes your place will be less of a douche.”
Maybe they would be, Derek took another settling breath before answering. “What do you want, Stiles?”
“Answers? A conversation with you that doesn’t end with me wanting to wrap my hands around your neck? Maybe some s’mores and actual summer activities? I don’t know.” Stiles sighed again and shook his head. “Just how about trusting… us.”
Stiles said us but in the pause, Derek could hear the word me.
“Why should I?” He wanted to shout that he had tried to trust Stiles and Scott, but the words wouldn’t come out. Something about Stiles rendered him speechless when he was trying to defend himself.
“Maybe because I’m right, like, all the time? I’ve always been right and no one ever listens to me!” Stiles lifted his hand up and began counting on his fingers. “I knew Scott was a werewolf, but did he believe me? Noooo. I knew Matt was evil, I knew it was Jackson and not Lydia who was the Kanima. I knew that you took Scott’s phone, I knew you weren’t dumb enough to get captured without a plan, and if you or Scott would have told me about this stupid Gerard plan I—”
“I didn’t know about the plan.” Derek watched as Stiles’ eyes widened, mouth hanging open before he closed it. In a brief, almost out of body moment, Derek said the words in his head out loud. “I thought you did.”
Stiles’ face looked crushed and Derek fought the urge to take it back right then and there. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
Derek didn’t say anything, but apparently that was all the answer Stiles needed.
“Shit,” Stiles sighed and shook his head side to side. “No, Derek. I didn’t know what Scott and Deaton were going to do. If I did, I would have told them it was a stupid idea!”
That made Derek’s heart start to beat faster, his eyes moving to meet Stiles’. There was no waver in his voice, no acrid scent of lying, nothing that would make Derek doubt him. That scared him even more. If Stiles hadn’t known what was going to happen with Scott, then there was no reason for Derek to avoid him; if there was no reason to avoid him…
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
If I had asked you and you had said yes, it would have eviscerated me. Derek thought as he saw Stiles looking expectant for an answer. When Derek shrugged in response, he pursed his lips and walked up so they were only a few inches apart.
Derek’s eyes wandered as he looked down at Stiles’ lips.
“You put up this stupid douche-Alpha persona recently,” Stiles continued, and Derek’s attention snapped up to look at his eyes. “And it just makes you look like an asshole. No one wants to follow an asshole.”
Derek stepped back a bit and crossed his arms, trying not to just outright roll his eyes at Stiles’ comment. Yes, he knew he wasn’t as prolific a leader as he could be and yes, he was aware that the Betas feared him more than respected him—but at the time that had been to strengthen them for the hunters coming.
Now with the Argents gone and Beacon Hills returning to normal, he didn’t have to be. Yet he didn’t know how to be a leader.
“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he said finally, watching as Stiles’ face softened ever so slightly before returning to a look of frustration.
“Then, I don’t know, explain things? You have a big vocabulary from reading all those books, right? So use them and be the Alpha you want to be.”
Be the Alpha you want to be, Derek schooled his face as he replayed Stiles’ words over in his mind, but what if I’m not ready to be an Alpha?
It was entirely too late for that, but the thought crossed his mind more than a few times.
“Do you give pep talks often?” Derek said finally and watched Stiles’ mouth drop open in mock hurt.
“I’ll have you know, I’m very good at pep talks!”
Derek shrugged again and that only made Stiles’ eyebrows grow closer together in anger. Well, pretend anger. His chemo signals continued to be a muddle of annoyed and amused, which were staples when Stiles was around Derek. They were almost comforting to him.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Stiles rolled his eyes and took the step up again to close their space. “Admit it, you’re thinking about using those big muscles in your head not just the ones on your arms because of me.”
They were so close now that Derek swore Stiles’ scent took on a sharp, spicy aroma. One he thought he had smelled before in passing when Stiles was close to him, but never this full on. it made Derek’s teeth itch and every thought in his head muddle together into one desire: move closer.
“Thinking about revisiting that punching you in the face idea.” Derek said flippantly, almost smiling as Stiles rolled his eyes again.
“Ha ha, so funny. No, but seriously. You know my way is your only hope of this actually working.” Stiles didn’t move, Derek watching as his pink tongue slid out to wet his lips.
Tease. Derek’s heart thumped and he swallowed. No, no Stiles was not being a tease. Stiles was being a hyperactive spaz who couldn’t keep his nose out of Derek’s business. This should not be egging him on, this should be annoying him. And yet as the tongue came out again, all Derek could think about was catching it between his lips.
“I’ll try your way,” Derek said finally. Partly to get Stiles off his back and partly because he knew he was right. If Derek was going to make this work, something had to change.
He had to change.
Stiles stepped back finally giving him a look before turning to walk up. “Do or do not, there is no try!”
“Thanks, Yoda.”
Derek watched Stiles’ head whip around in surprise at his response, but he kept walking back to the cabin—clearly making his mind up about leaving Derek alone with his thoughts. Usually that would be a dangerous thing, but with Stiles’ suggestion in mind and knowing that he was on Derek’s side in some way or another, he had a goal.
He took a few hours to himself as he thought about what type of Alphas he had had in his life: his mother who was a wonderful leader but was too busy to be a mother sometimes, his sister who had been too busy keeping Derek distracted to be a good leader, and Peter who had been too busy getting revenge to have any time to actually lead. Every Alpha he had ever had was someone who spent too much time on one thing that everything else fell to the side. He had done the same with getting the Pack ready for the Kanima and the Argents.
What Alpha he wanted to be was somewhere between them all. Strong and trusted, cautious and prepared, tactical and calculating. Derek wanted to be every Hale Alpha there had been and then some.
Then I know what I have to do.
By the time he finished the loop around the woods, the sun was setting and the nearly full moon was peaking out from the wispy twilight clouds. It was a beautiful night already and Derek could feel himself growing more confident with his decision. Stiles was right, Derek needed to try something else, and while it wouldn’t be instant he could put the effort in now.
The cabin was lively with sound, Boyd had picked up the guitar again and Stiles was chatting with Erica and Jackson about something loudly that even without supernatural hearing, Derek would have heard it. He pushed open the door and everyone instantly quieted, their eyes turning to Derek to see what was going to happen.
“I’m sorry.” That made everyone even quieter and Derek knew that he had a limited amount of time to continue before their questions. “I brought you all here to relive the things I did in my youth when learning to control my powers. From now on, I’m going to explain every reasoning behind our activities, starting with the full moon tomorrow.”
Peter sat up a little, a small grin crossing his face. “Are we going to play Tag?”
“Tag? Like the kids game?” Jackson’s voice sounded less than impressed, but Derek could hear a sense of curiosity between the words.
“Not even in the slightest,” Peter corrected and Derek could see excitement in his eyes. “If Derek’s bringing back the old Hale family game of tag, you are all in for a treat tomorrow.”
The Betas looked between one another and excitement bubbled in the chemo signals around the room. Even Jackson looked like he was actually interested in what Derek was going to say. For once, they seemed like they wanted to know more—wanted to know why.
“I will explain the rules tomorrow before we start. Tonight I think Peter said something about a camp fire?”
Everyone groaned in anticipation, but their tones changed to gentle arguments about what food they should make for dinner tonight over the fire. Looking at the group one by one, Derek caught Stiles’ eye and stared for a moment before Stiles winked. It made Derek’s whole body lurch with a desire he hadn’t felt in years. But that was for later.
Much much much later.
Wednesday June 15th 2011
“Did everyone understand the rules?” Derek asked as they all sat at the picnic tables. Everyone had been restless the whole day, some asking for hints and others—Jackson—outright demanding to know what was going to happen tonight for the Tag game.
Where usually Derek’s silences and shrugs made the Betas freeze up and stop asking, this time when he added the playful and sarcastic comments it made them talk more. It was a strange feeling having them leave with frustrated curiosity rather than fearful concern; but he didn’t hate it.
“So we’re playing tag because… Wolves play tag?” Erica asked, leaning against Boyd with her feet up on Isaac’s lap.
“Somewhat,” Derek said as he crossed his arms lightly across his chest. “Every Pack runs differently, but to the Hales it is a family.” He paused again, clearing his throat. “To me I want it to be a family.”
No one interrupted, to Derek’s surprise, so he continued.
“When I was growing up, my mother—my Alpha—said these types of games on full moons serve to build social bonds, confidence, and essential survival skills. Which is why we have this.” He held up the worn and beaten up doll that had been through hell and back.
Stiles raised his hand but started talking before Derek even acknowledged him. “We just have to get the doll into the safe zone before the end of the night and we win?”
“Yes, I will be playing the role of the Danger in this situation and try to stop you from reaching your goal,” Derek agreed. He was glad that someone was asking these questions, he was certain they were all still a little worried to question him.
“What do we win?” Isaac asked, a look of curiosity on his face.
“Bragging rights that you worked as a Pack. And a trophy with your names on it at the end of the summer,” Peter said lazily from his chair near the cabin.
“And what do I get if I win for my birthday?” Jackson asked, focused on Derek like he was assessing a challenge.
“Bragging rights and the cake I made,” Peter repeated before rolling his eyes. “But if you lose, I get to shove the cake in your face.”
Jackson whirled around to look at Peter with a death glare, but Derek cleared his throat to get his attention back.
“The whole point of these activities is to be in sync with your Pack, to help when they are in danger, and to work together to find solutions. As Kipling said, ‘the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack’.”
He caught Stiles’ smug look and another wink at the a literary reference, which made his stomach swoop and something behind his teeth twitch. Thankfully Boyd had raised his hand and waited until Derek pointed to him.
“What’s to stop us from hiding the doll and coming back for it later when you’re chasing after someone else?”
“I’d smell it,” Derek said matter of factually. “Each of you are going to put on a specific scent that will indicate who has held the doll. The longer you hold it, the stronger the scent. So if it’s faint and only one of you is on it—”
“You’ll know we cheated,” Jackson mumbled, his thoughts of Peter’s quip clearly forgotten. There was something in his eyes that said he didn’t want to lose and Derek knew that would be what drove him tonight. Good. It didn’t matter to him what it was that made them participate, as long as they all participated.
“I would.”
Jackson looked up to Derek now, a glint of understanding flashing across his face. “Who starts with the doll?”
“The human of the Pack usually starts.” Peter closed his book, standing up now as he rolled his shoulders and grabbed one of the little scent sticks on the table. “Since the moon hasn’t risen and it will be the safest for them if someone loses control.”
“Me?! I thought I was going to be sitting on the sidelines!” Stiles questioned, eyes wide.
Derek let a smile cross his face, knowing how it looked. “I thought you wanted to be in the Pack, Stiles. Pack participates in Pack activities.”
His smile grew as Stiles’ eyes widened in understanding and he grabbed a scent stick from Peter to rub on his body. Each one of the Betas mimicked the action and Derek took a deep inhale of them all: Jackson had chosen cherry, Boyd chose peach, Erica was vanilla, while Isaac picked strawberries. Peter had his usual coconut and Stiles… Stiles had chosen Pineapple.
There was no way he could have known that was Derek’s favorite scent, so Derek chalked it up to coincidence.
Derek handed the doll over to Stiles first, smiling as he nodded to the woods. “Everyone gets a five minute head start, remember you have all night and the safe zone is 20 miles away. It’s a marathon not a sprint.”
“And if you catch us we have a 5 minute penalty, yeah we get it,” Erica mumbled but Derek could see a smile on her face. “Can we go?”
As soon as Derek nodded, they were off.
Derek could hear as Jackson took control of the situation. He shouted loudly about keeping whoever had the doll in the center of them all while they ran, quoting some defensive strategy they used for Lacrosse. Everyone seemed to agree as their voices tapered off into the forest, leaving Derek alone again.
Jackson is a captain, he was bound to take on the role of the second in command; his thoughts grew louder as the Betas' scent faded in the air, the five minutes nearly up.
Derek closed his eyes, letting the memories from his childhood fill his mind—his mother chasing them through the woods, Laura making sure all the cousins and siblings each had a chance to carry the doll, Derek always being the one to bring the doll to the final protection place. It was a great feeling knowing they were able to do something together.
That was what he hoped the Betas would feel too.
Eyes snapping open, Derek began running through the woods at a leisurely pace. He could smell every fruit-flavored scent floating down the path, but also the scent of his Pack. Derek had expected to smell the individual chemo signals fighting for dominance and attention, each one seeking to be better than the other. But not now. Now when Derek took a deep breath he could sense they were mingled together in such a way that their emotions were synced—they were working together.
Derek picked up the pace as he followed their trail down a little past the lake, the sun starting to dip behind the treeline. The night air was electric with a summer storm and Derek felt himself coming alive with every step closer to the group. As he came up on a bluff overlooking the lake, he could see them still running in a group—a Pack—with Stiles in the middle holding the doll. Peter had taken up a spot in the rear while Jackson took a spot in the front: the one setting the pace.
They’re going to go around the lake, Derek thought to himself as he skidded down into the valley. Leaves fluttered around his feet as he picked up the pace toward the Pack, the sound of their heartbeats so close now as he looped around to get in front of them. There was a part of Derek who wanted to wait until the sun had fully set before attacking, but it wouldn’t be as fun if he couldn’t see their faces clearly.
With a grin, Derek launched himself at the surprised Pack—watching in glee as they scattered away from him. Jackson had managed to avoid a tackle, but Isaac hadn’t been so lucky and tumbled to the forest floor with Derek.
“Five minutes, start counting,” Derek growled, rolling off Isaac and running toward the rest of the Pack.
Erica and Boyd had run off with Stiles and the doll, disappearing into the forest with the dying light. Peter and Jackson had ran behind them trying to lure Derek in a different direction by rubbing their scent over the trees. He found himself almost heading toward their fruity scents before realizing some were missing.
Clever but not clever enough.
Derek took a deep inhale of the air, seeking out the specific scent that made his teeth itch. When he caught the scent, he took off toward the smell of Pineapple. It wasn’t for any particular reason, he told himself, he wasn’t actively seeking Stiles’ scent. He just knew Stiles was the one who had last been with the doll and there was no way the Pack was going to leave him alone in the woods.
As the sun set fully and the moon began to rise in the night sky, everything that had made Derek feel worried or anxious melted. It was like he was a teenager again as they ran through the woods with him on the Pack’s heels.
Howls and calls echoed through the air, laughter and groans of disappointment as he took them down one at a time. Derek was steady and methodical, but not fast enough clearly. As soon as Derek tackled a Beta, another joined after their five minute penalty—it was like they had planned to keep the Alpha strung along so they’d never be down more than one. Derek couldn’t tell if he was proud or frustrated that they were banking on him not going after the one holding the doll in the middle of the Pack.
Well maybe it was time to change it up.
The moon was heavy in the night sky as they reached the ¾ point: only another 5 miles until the Pack reached the safe zone and Derek would ‘lose’ the trial. He could smell the smug sense of triumph mingling with the fading fruit scents, the night wearing down on everyone—but no one had lost control. Everyone had been so focused on the game, so focused on winning the challenge, that everyone had kept their composure. And that was exactly what Derek had hoped for.
The Pack was coming up the last hill, all of them back up now that Peter’s penalty was over. There was only one chance left for Derek to even attempt to win, and so with the end in sight, he took one last lunge toward the group and this time aimed for the scent he had been avoiding this entire time: Stiles.
Their bodies made contact immediately, Stiles letting out a cry of surprise before throwing his body in a rather awkward angle. Derek lurched his shoulders in the opposite direction of Stiles in an effort to keep himself upright, but as Stiles threw the doll to Jackson their momentum swung in the same direction. They tumbled down the hill into the forest, Derek wrapping his arms around Stiles’ head and neck to ensure he didn’t snap it.
Derek’s back hit the forest floor with a grunt, eyes closing as he felt Stiles heavy on top of him pressed into his chest and thighs. Their foreheads were so close that Derek could smell Stiles’ excited chemo signal strongly, but there was something else between the cedar-wood, orange, and ginger entwined into the sweet, sticky pineapple: arousal. He couldn’t just smell it, Derek could feel Stiles’ hard cock pressed against his thigh trapped between the thin athletic wear they had both chosen to wear today for the run. And Derek was just as hard.
This was the second time Stiles had been thrown on top of him like this, but this time Derek was paralyzed for a completely different reason. His eyes fluttered open and Stiles’ face came into perfect view; surprised look outlined by the halo of the full moon. Derek laid beneath him in perfect stillness, eyes flicking between Stiles’ face and his pink, plump lips that just screamed to be nibbled and sucked and—
Stiles’ tongue slid out against the bottom of his lip and Derek lost all semblance of control. He leaned up, closing the distance between them and tasting the sweet spit against his lips. Derek heard Stiles’ moan as his lips opened in acceptance, his tongue sliding out to tease Derek’s lips open too. Derek growled low in his throat as his hips started to rut against Stiles’ body, Stiles grinding down against him in response. The two rolled through the leaves of the forest floor, kissing and grinding against one another to find some relief with each other’s bodies.
At some point they had managed to push their clothing as far out of the way as possible while still staying on and Derek growled again as flesh touched flesh. His hands had found their way up Stiles’ shirt, fingers brushing over raised moles as Stiles’ hands slipped down Derek’s shorts. He didn’t know who started the touch, but really it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Stiles was kissing him back; Stiles wanted to kiss him.
They continued to rut into each other, thighs and hips hitting each other hard enough to leave bruises; kisses harder and faster like they were starving. Derek bit down lightly against Stiles’ bottom lip and tugged as Stiles’ hips stuttered and trembled. Slowly the blooming scent of come and embarrassment filled the night air: he had come against Derek’s thighs silent as the grave.
Whenever Derek had imagined Stiles coming, he had thought he would be loud—at the very least moan—but there was something equally arousing to rendering him mute. Not that Derek imagined Stiles coming often. Ever. Never. He never thought about Stiles rocking through an orgasm while whispering Derek’s name in the cover of darkness.
Never.
Realization of what had just happened sank in and Derek tried to roll them over so he could slink away, but Stiles broke their kiss and latched his teeth against Derek’s neck. He bit down hard and Derek’s eyes fluttered back in pleasure. Before he could stop himself, Derek rutted his hips up against Stiles’ body, his cock and knot aching for more than just the friction of cloth and body heat. He could feel his control slipping even further and fought to stay in his right mind as they rocked against one another.
A moan escaped his lips as Stiles bit him again, the sound growing into a light howl that shook Derek’s chest in all the right ways. Derek bared his throat as Stiles licked and bit up his flesh, teeth tugging against his earlobe before a “Derek…” caressed his skin.
It was his name that did it. Stiles’ shaky voice whispered softly against his ear tumbled him over the edge. His hands gripped Stiles’ hips as he came against Stiles’ body, eyes ripping opening and colors fading as he felt his eyes shift from human to wolf. Control came after a few more moments of panting and Derek realized he had just dry-humped Stiles under the full moon.
Words stuck to his throat as he tried to come up with some excuse for why he had kissed him, but Stiles’ lips were against his again. He kissed back, mouthing against Stiles’ lips softer and gentler this time. It was just enough to keep Derek from saying anything he might regret saying, but not enough to stop him from whispering his name.
“Stiles…”
Stiles pulled back as soon as Derek said his name, sitting up quickly and scrambling off Derek. To Derek, he looked like a deer in headlights, brown eyes wide as everything they had just did caught up with him. Derek’s stomach dropped as he watched Stiles just stare. Had he regretted it? Had he felt pressured?
Before Derek could say anything else, Stiles ran off into the woods toward the cabin—leaving Derek alone on the forest floor.