The couch in his living room does not need five teen werewolves squished onto it on any given day. It really doesn't. Stiles sighs and curls up on a nearby loveseat to wait out the initial wiggles and light growls that signal them settling in. No matter what Derek bellows about when it comes to being prompt when arriving to pack meetings, they all just sort of show up and pile in mere minutes before the supposedly mature alpha sulks through the front door. Today is no different. He can hear the wood protesting under the weight, and it's two minutes until eight.
Right on time, Derek bangs through the front door (for once) and takes one sort-of fond look at the puppy pile that has formed before training his focus on Stiles and whoa, Allison is here too. It's starting to feel like the only person who isn't capable of pure stealth is him. But, back to the slightly less miserable alpha wolf. He's standing in the middle of the room, drawing on some endless well of patience to wait for the attention to turn his direction. By some quirk in the natural dynamics of pack life, they all settle in, in phases. Lydia's eyes snap to him first, taking in body language. Jackson follows, then Boyd and Erica when they feel the lack of movement. Isaac and Scott are the last, mainly due to Scott having fallen partially asleep.
"There's a pack, traveling along the north border."
Scott's eyes are no longer half-mast. "Why didn't we know? I ran along yesterday and-"
Lydia snorts from somewhere under Boyd's shoulder. Scott's patrols are legendary for instigating species wars. Like the time he found out about the existence of mermaids. Turns out there are subspecies. And one of them is half shark. So, yes. It's a bit of a surprise that Scott didn't accidentally mortally offend them before going along his merry way to see the rest of the Hale pack.