Don't Know What You've Got ('Til It's Gone)

by Cobrilee

Derek would like for his pack to treat him like he's their alpha. When life gives him what he wants, Derek finds himself in an AU where he's a BAMF alpha, and he realizes he doesn't want it the way he thought he did. The "grass is always greener" adage, as Stiles would say. Speaking of Stiles... Apparently in this new world they're mates. He's starting to like it here after all.

1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was written for the Sterek Summer Spectacle on Tumblr, for Week 4: Fix Canon.

The acrid smell of acetone filtered upstairs and Derek scowled, his nose wrinkling in disgust. He'd told Erica a dozen times or more that he hated when she did her nails in the house. Honestly, he wasn't sure how she could stand the smell of it herself.

"Pain is beauty, Der-bear," she'd said flippantly the one time he asked her, smoothing on another coat of cherry-red lacquer without even looking at her hands, leveling a smirk at him instead.

He'd rolled his eyes, growled a little, and retreated to the roof for fresh air.

Now, he debated whether to even mention it again; she clearly wasn't going to listen any better this time than she had the first dozen. Pride got the better of him and he made his way down the spiral staircase, the one thing he'd kept from the loft architecture when he'd decided to rebuild Hale House. He leaned over it and braced his forearms on the cast-iron railing, hands loosely clasped. She studiously ignored him while he stared at her in annoyance.

Isaac glanced from Derek's puckered mouth and drawn-together eyebrows to Erica, blithely slicking a deep wine color onto her nails. "Uh, Erica. I think our alpha is as sick of the scent of your polish as I am. Can't you go outside?"

Erica lifted one hand, studying her still-wet manicure. "If I smear this, I'll have to start over."

Isaac shrugged at Derek as if to say, I tried, and took a deep swallow of milk straight from the jug. Derek huffed in exasperation. "Isaac, we all drink that milk. How many times do I have to tell you not to drink out of the carton?"

"It's not like you're going to catch my germs," Isaac pointed out, and Derek frowned.

"That's not why you shouldn't be drinking out of the same carton everyone else uses," he objected, frustrated. "You're eighteen years old. Why am I having to explain this to you?"

Isaac stuck the carton back in the fridge and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Because I'm a teenage boy who never really learned how to use my manners?"

"Maybe the question really is, you're a beta. Why am I, as an alpha, having to ask either of you-" with a well-placed glare at Erica, who simply rolled her eyes, "anything more than once?"

Erica tipped her head to one side. "Because you suck as an alpha?" she offered, bored. "Or probably just because you chose to turn a few meek, mild kids who now want to be a little rebellious," she added, with an insight she frequently used but rarely expressed.

"Don't include Boyd in that," Derek muttered. "He doesn't sass me and ignore my direct commands the way you two do."

"Not verbally anyway," Isaac snorted, and Derek did have to recognize that Boyd's sass was all expressed through his face.

He pushed away from the railing, bringing himself to full height-which, unfortunately, wasn't as intimidating to either of them as it should be. Erica continued to sit there with her arms folded over her chest, wet nails carefully spread over the leather jacket and smirk firmly entrenched on her face. Isaac stared at him placidly, obviously not planning on challenging him but not anywhere close to cowed. "Would it kill either of you to recognize me as your alpha?"

"We do," Erica sighed. "We just don't recognize your authority." She hopped up from the couch and crossed the room to stick her face between the railing, smiling up at him prettily. "You might be our sort-of fearless leader, but that doesn't mean we're going to listen to you."

Derek gnashed his teeth, wanting to snap at both of them but recognizing the futility. He partially blamed himself. Erica had nailed it when she said he picked a couple of kids who wanted the opportunity to act out, although that didn't explain Scott or Stiles.

To be fair, nothing explained Stiles.

"Maybe we could be a little more respectful," Isaac allowed, and at least there was a little bit of need there for him to obey his alpha. Derek would take what he could get at this point.

Erica heaved a huge, annoyed sigh. "If I wanted someone holding my leash, I would have gone to obedience school," she snapped, and Derek had had just about enough. Without missing a beat he roared, his eyes bleeding red and furious, and Isaac and Erica dropped to their knees instinctively. Erica glared up at him, her huge golden eyes resentful even as her head began to dip in deference.

"I shouldn't have to resort to a roar to get some respect around here," Derek growled. "I'm an alpha. You two are betas. It's time you start remembering that."

Erica shot to her feet and flounced toward the front door, flinging it open to reveal a startled Stiles, whose fist was raised in preparation to knock. She shot a nasty sneer over her shoulder at Derek before turning back and smirking at Stiles. "Don't poke a stick at the snake today unless you want him to rip your throat out with his teeth."

"Yeah, because that's not a threat I've lived with pretty much daily for the last two years," Stiles replied, scoffing. "Catch up, Catwoman. It doesn't even mean anything anymore. His bark is noisy as shit, but I've never actually even seen him bite."

Isaac muffled a chuckle and Derek glared at him balefully. He coughed. "Yeah, I, uh, have to go meet up with Scott. We have a history project due next week and I have to say I would honestly rather be doing that than be here right now."

Stiles watched bemusedly as both Erica and Isaac disappeared without a backward glance. "What the hell, Sourwolf? They couldn't get away from you fast enough."

Derek's brows drew back together as he scowled fiercely at Stiles. "I chose to remind them I'm their alpha, which they seem to have forgotten."

"Ahh. The angsty wolf-roar now makes sense. I heard it from the driveway and wondered if I was going to come in here to find a dead body. Or a fight. Or both. Really, on any given day it's a safe bet that at least one of them would be the case."

Derek rolled his eyes long-sufferingly. "Why are you here, Stiles?"

Stiles plopped down on the couch, leaning back while toeing his sneakers off. "Because the only entertainment in my life these days is poking a stick at the snake?" he offered, then flushed. "And that was so not meant to sound like the sexual innuendo that it totally sounded like."

He refrained from rolling his eyes again, but just barely. "So you're saying you just showed up here to antagonize me because you're bored."

Stiles frowned. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds… pretty much exactly like me, yeah."

"Just go away, Stiles," he sighed, and Stiles watched him in concern.

"That lacked your usual bite," he observed, and to his credit, his lips didn't even twitch at his own clever pun. "Is everything okay?"

Derek stared down at his hands, eyebrows drawn together broodingly. He could feel Stiles move closer to him, creeping closer to the end of the couch where he was standing. Without saying a word, he gestured for Derek to sit beside him. Derek hesitated, then sank down, their thighs a mere inch apart.

Stiles allowed the silence to continue for two solid minutes, which, for him, was impressive. "Do you trust me?"

He glanced up warily, not knowing what Stiles was getting at, but the expression on his face was, surprisingly, both serious and genuine. Derek hesitated, but it wasn't because he didn't know the answer. He was just afraid to admit it. Finally, through gritted teeth, he spoke. "Yes."

"Then you know you can tell me what's wrong." Derek scowled at his lap and Stiles huffed out an irritated breath. "Derek. We've known each other for two years now, right?" Derek nodded, jaw tight. "Maybe we're not exactly friends, but we're pack, and that means more."

"Not to everyone," he mumbled, and Stiles frowned at him.

"That's what this is all about," he realized. "The situation with Erica and Isaac is really bugging you, isn't it?"

Derek refused to look up, until Stiles' warm hand eased over his. He stared down at the long, spidery fingers that curled over the edge of his palm, and when he looked up, Stiles was watching him steadily. "You're a good alpha, Derek. But Isaac and Erica spent their entire lives being cowed by people controlling them, physically and emotionally. Isaac lived in fear for his life every day, and Erica lived as a shadow, unseen and unheard. Of course they're going to rebel. They're going to say a great big 'fuck you very much' to anyone who wants to control them even a little bit. Give them some time, okay?"

The wisdom in the teenager's words was both welcome and a little frightening. "It's been a year and a half, Stiles," he said anyway, unwilling to just accept it, needing to argue.

"And they were trapped in those constricting shells for sixteen," Stiles reminded him, demeanor unflappable. "It was an overnight, miraculous transformation they weren't prepared for. It's not going to be so quick getting back to a leveled-out emotional state."

Derek didn't acknowledge the statement, but he knew Stiles could tell he'd gotten through a little bit. "Would it kill them to, just once, treat me like I'm their alpha?" he asked hollowly. He knew Stiles would understand the unspoken, They're not the only ones who had it tough growing up. They're not the only ones who need to to have their voices heard.

Stiles' fingers squeezed his. Derek had forgotten the younger man's hand was still curled around his palm. "You've been doing this a lot longer than they have, Derek," he pointed out quietly. "You're stronger than they are. You can hold out for them to go through their werewolf teen years at the same time as their normal teen years, which has to have fucked them both up royally. Boyd too," he added, "even though he doesn't talk back the way Isaaca do."

"Isaaca?" Derek parroted, raising one skeptical eyebrow, and Stiles shrugged, grinning.

"Their werewolf-y sibling portmanteau. Everyone has one."

"Everyone?"

Stiles smirked. "Everyone. Scallison. Jydia. Berica. Sciles, if you want to count BroTPs."

"What?" Derek blinked in confusion. Stiles was suddenly speaking a new language.

"One true pairing, but for bros, like me and Scott," Stiles explained. "We even have one," he added, cheeks coloring slightly despite his valiant attempt to pretend nonchalance. "Sterek."

Derek groaned. "Spare me," he grumbled, and a faint mix of hurt and embarrassment wafted his way. Before he could-well, he wouldn't apologize, it was a stupid thing to get upset over, but still, he didn't want Stiles feeling bad when he was just trying to help Derek feel better-before he could do anything, Stiles rose from the couch.

"It's time for me to get out of here," he announced in a fake-cheerful tone. "Homework to do and all that. Senior year isn't going to finish itself." He practically bolted toward the front door and Derek felt an unwelcome sting of guilt for driving him away, but a second later he was back. "Forgot my shoes." Grabbing the sneakers from underneath the coffee table, he did a deliberate stroll back to the door, not even bothering to stop to put his shoes on before he let himself out.

Derek wasn't sure whether to laugh or curl in on himself when he heard Stiles hop around on one foot on the front porch, stumbling into the side of the house and cursing.

lllll

It was quiet, and more importantly, odor-free when Derek came downstairs the next morning. He could sense his betas' scents throughout the house, heard their quiet, steady heartbeats, letting him know they were still there, but not thrumming with energy the way they normally were. When he stepped into the kitchen, Isaac stood at the stove, flipping pancakes and pushing sausage links around in a large cast-iron skillet.

"Is that for you, or everyone?" Derek asked, sniffing appreciatively, and Isaac tossed a cautious glance his way.

"For everyone," he said slowly, as if Derek needed it spelled out for him. "It's my turn."

Derek reached out, popped a claw, stabbed it into a link, and pulled it out of the pan. He expected Isaac to slap his hand away or glare at him, but he stood silent, subdued, waiting until Derek was done. "Where are the others?"

"Erica and Boyd are sparring," Isaac informed him. "Scott and Stiles are looking up everything they can on how to get rid of those wood sprites."

Derek frowned. He didn't remember anyone telling him about any wood sprites. "Scott and Stiles are here?"

Isaac stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Aren't they always?"

Stiles, maybe. Derek was beginning to realize he showed up on a regular basis. Scott still preferred to be anywhere else but Hale House, although he'd gotten more comfortable with it in the last six months. "I'm going out for a run."

"Do you want me to hold breakfast for you?" Isaac asked, a trace of anxiety threading his voice, and Derek shook his head in confusion.

"No, I'll grab something when I'm back. Let the others eat."

"Yes, sir," Isaac replied, subdued, and Derek's brow furrowed as he headed out the front door.

It bothered him the entire time he was running. Isaac was never the chatty one of the group (come to think of it, the only one who ever did talk much was Erica, and Stiles when he was around), but he was almost… afraid. Like he'd been when Derek first met him. The thought was so disconcerting and downright painful that he cut his run short and headed back home after only twenty minutes.

When he stepped inside, Scott of all people was standing at his sink, washing dishes. Stiles stood next to him, cracking jokes and popping him on the ass with the dish towel while Erica and Boyd were hunched over a laptop sitting on the kitchen table. Their quiet murmurs told him they were still talking about the wood sprites that, apparently, were their newest problem. One he'd had no clue existed.

Clearly you're still doing a bang-up job at this whole alpha thing.

"What have you found?" he asked, voice gruff, and everyone froze before looking over at him, their bodies thawing incrementally.

"They're here for some kind of ritual," Erica supplied, casting a worried glance at Boyd. "The carvings in the trees at the edge of the Preserve are symbolic, and they're placed in an octagonal pattern, which indicates a binding ceremony."

Derek watched her expectantly, waiting for the sass or the snarky crack, and found himself flustered when she just stared up at him, her eyes wide and… innocent? He wasn't sure he'd seen that expression on her since the moment he gave her the bite.

Boyd spoke up while Derek and Erica had a stare-off, glancing between them warily. "We're trying to figure out what they might be trying to bind," he continued, and Derek flicked a glance his way.

"Any rumblings from any of our sources?" Stiles asked, finally tossing the dish towel on the counter and making his way to the table, leaning in over Erica's shoulder to study the information on the laptop. His chest pressed against her shoulder and she flinched away, both of them looking guiltily at Derek. The tension was palpable and his confusion was mounting, which was making him more frustrated and irritable. Everyone around him tensed even more, watching him, waiting for… something. Derek had no idea what.

Isaac kept a close eye on Derek, barely murmuring, "The Calaveras are only two towns over," he started, and Derek whipped around, glaring. He flinched away, but mumbled, "They always seem to have answers no matter what, it might not hurt to ask."

"Absolutely not," Derek snapped, and everyone shrank away from him. "What the hell is wrong with all of you?" he groused, and his pack, as well as Scott, looked to Stiles, their expressions anticipatory. He sighed, rolling his shoulders and shifting his neck from side to side as if preparing himself to step into a boxing ring.

"Der, look. I know you don't like the Calaveras. None of us do. But they have a vast knowledge of the supernatural beyond werewolves. You're the one who's always saying we should use our assets. They could be an asset. Let me talk to them, they might be more inclined to be cooperative with me since I'm human."

"Out of the question!" he roared on instinct. The thought of Stiles anywhere near those vicious bastards had him vibrating with fury. His eyes flashed red and everyone, including Stiles, dropped to their knees, their heads bowed, and he reared back in shock. His silence apparently encouraged Scott to look up furtively, and when he saw that Derek's attention was focused on Stiles, he nudged Isaac, who poked at Erica and Boyd in front of him. The four of them rose quickly and quietly, scattering to different corners of the house and leaving him alone with Stiles.

Stiles, who was still on his knees before him, and sweet baby Jesus if that didn't take his brain down a path it should never, ever go. "Stiles," he rasped, "what are you doing?"

Stiles lifted his head, peering up at Derek as if trying to determine whether he was about to get his head bitten off. Slowly, he lifted himself back to his feet. "I'm sorry, Der," he apologized, subdued, and when he eased into Derek's space, he was speechless. Before his brain could catch up, Stiles was tilting his chin and brushing a soft, conciliatory kiss across his lips. His reaction was instantaneous.

"Jesus, Stiles, what the fuck are you thinking?" Derek yelled, stunned. He wasn't sure if he was more stunned that Stiles had kissed him… or that he wanted him to do it again.

Stiles stepped back, face wounded. "I know you're upset that I challenged you in front of the pack, but I didn't think that meant you didn't want me anymore," he said softly, and Derek's heart clenched. What?

"What are you talking about?" he blurted, cursing his lack of smoothness in handling the situation.

"I didn't mean to undermine your authority," he mumbled, his head bowing, and-oh. Yeah, okay. Bizarro-world. He must have been transported to an alternate universe where people actually respect him.

Because there was no way the man in front of him was his Stiles. His Stiles wasn't physically capable of deference.

"So how long have I been an asshole who terrifies my pack?" he asked acrimoniously. Everything finally made sense. Erica's wide-eyed submission and lack of snark, Isaac's fearful scurrying, and the fact that Scott was apparently a fixture at Hale House-he was an alpha here. A real alpha, one who commanded authority and wielded power.

He wasn't entirely sure he liked it. Not if it meant everyone quailed in front of him. Not if it meant Stiles was demure and quiet. It was unnatural and it felt so wrong.

Stiles blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Is this a thing?" Derek snapped in frustration. "Kissing me to pacify me? Will Erica or Boyd or Isaac or Scott kiss me if they're the ones unlucky enough to be left alone with me when I'm angry?"

For the first time, a glimmer of defiance spread across his face. "I'd like to see them try," he snarled, clenching his fists in fury.

His reaction startled Derek. "Then why did you do it?" he asked. He'd assumed it was a supplication thing, meant as an apology.

Stiles stared at him like he was insane. "Because you're my mate and I love you?" he answered slowly, as if Derek were a small child.

Oh. He and Stiles were together in this universe.

Maybe it wasn't so bad here after all.

lllll

"So, wait, you're not really Derek?" Scott's tone was a mix of baffled and suspicious.

Isaac flicked a glance up at him, then back down at his feet. "I think he's Derek, he's just not. Um. Our Derek?"

He looked to Erica for confirmation, but she just kept watching Derek from below her eyelashes. It wasn't the flirtatious, seductive maneuver he was so used to, and it was disconcerting to see her so withdrawn. Her vivacity was one of the things Derek enjoyed most about her, and drawing her out of her shell and giving her something to fight for were the two biggest reasons he'd bitten her in the first place. Seeing her like this hurt him more than he ever would have thought.

Watching Stiles across from him, however-skin pale and eyes bruised, wounded-hurt worse. It tore at him. When he'd told Stiles what had happened, that he wasn't some badass-motherfucker alpha, and in fact was barely holding his own pack together, Stiles had shrunk away from him in disbelief.

Patience wasn't Derek's strong suit by any means, but he'd attempted it as Stiles suddenly straightened, firing question after question at him. With every one that Derek hadn't been able to answer, Stiles had retreated further and further into himself. Now, he watched Derek silently, almost accusingly. Derek wanted, absurdly, to apologize for taking his Derek away from him, but it wasn't like he'd done it on purpose. He had no idea how it had even happened.

"So does this mean we get a new and improved alpha?" Boyd asked, and the others' attention snapped to him immediately. There was fear, fear of someone new, fear of losing their comfort with the status quo, shitty as it was. There was also hope, hope that maybe things would change, would get better.

"I don't know," he confessed, and God but it felt like that was the story of his life. Painful mistakes and holding handfuls of nothing, feeling inadequate and underprepared for everything being thrown at him. No wonder his pack didn't respect a damn word that came out of his mouth. "I don't even know how I got here."

Stiles spoke up finally. "If you're not our alpha, you can't tell us what to do. Which means I'm going to Deaton and asking what he knows about alternate universes. Universi? Whatever, we're figuring out how to switch you back."

"Why do you even want him back?" Scott grumbled under his breath, not that it mattered in a room full of werewolves. "He's an asshole and you know it."

"Maybe he is, but he's mine," Stiles snapped back, and Derek got the feeling that it was an argument they'd had many times before.

"You shouldn't be his," Scott hissed. "He treats you like a possession, not a boyfriend."

It took Derek a moment to realize it was up to him to intervene. No one in this room was used to taking the initiative or interjecting their opinions, and it was only Scott's and Stiles' longstanding friendship that allowed them the familiarity to argue over something so sensitive. "Enough," he said firmly, and he scowled when both Stiles and Scott flinched away from the other and snapped back to attention. "I don't know how this happened, and I don't know if it can be reversed," he admitted, forcing away the feelings of failure that the words elicited. "But for the time being, I'm your alpha. And I'm not going to treat you like he did."

The sensation was odd. He had four betas and a human staring at him in anticipation. He had their undivided attention and loyalty, and he knew without a doubt they would do whatever he told them to. It was everything he'd been trying to achieve with his own pack for years.

It felt wrong.

"You said since I'm not your alpha, you're going to Deaton," he said first, gesturing at Stiles with a lift of his chin. "Does that mean you normally don't consult with him?" Stiles nodded as Scott snorted bitterly.

"Derek hates Deaton," Stiles acknowledged, and Scott made a face.

"He made me quit my job because he didn't want me anywhere near Deaton," he supplied, sneering.

Derek resisted grinding his teeth together. His alternate version sounded like a complete asshole. "He has that kind of control over you?"

"He's our alpha," Boyd spoke up, lifting his massive shoulders in a 'what are we going to do about it?' kind of way. "We don't say no."

Erica and Isaac nodded silently, and Derek wanted to yell in frustration. "You two are allowed to talk," he grumbled at them, and Isaac's eyes widened. "In my world you talk all the damn time. You especially," he added, nodding at Erica. A small smile tipped the corner of her lips, and Derek felt something warm light up in his chest. Maybe he would be here forever. Maybe he'd be gone in a day. Either way, he could at least start teaching his betas to stand up for themselves.

"Okay, so your Derek hates Deaton. Can anyone tell me why?"

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look, so Derek narrowed in on the two of them. "He blames Deaton," Stiles mumbled finally, and Derek's brows drew together in confusion. "For the, um. The fire."

Derek could see on the faces around him that they didn't know if the fire had happened in his world, and they were afraid of his reaction if it had. "In my world, Kate set the fire," he said evenly, refusing to allow the anguish to creep into his voice the way it had permanently threaded itself through his heart.

"Here, too," Isaac offered hesitantly.

"But Derek blamed Deaton for not telling him that Kate was a hunter," Erica chimed in, eyes flickering between Derek and Stiles, clearly wondering if she'd already overstepped. When no one moved to stop her, she continued, "He found out Deaton only ever told Talia that she should be aware of the kind of company her children kept, but didn't flat-out tell her he knew Derek and Kate were dating. He believes if Deaton wasn't so determined to keep all his information to himself, Talia would have stopped his relationship with Kate and his family would still be alive."

The knowledge stunned him, and he immediately wondered if the same held true in his own world. Deaton had never mentioned anything regarding Kate and Derek, but he'd known the Hales and the Argents long before the fire. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Deaton had known.

"Derek?"

Scott's quizzical voice broke him out of his thoughts. "I don't have that same prejudice against Deaton," he answered truthfully. "Go talk to him. Find out what he might know. In my world he isn't all that forthcoming with information, but usually, when pressed, he gives us something useful. See if you can press." He gestured to Scott. "He's your former boss, he'll probably be more open with you." Derek flicked a glance at Isaac. He wasn't blind to the fact that Isaac looked up to Scott in his own world, and had opened up more with the younger wolf than he had with Derek. "Take Isaac."

Scott nodded, lifting his chin to indicate Isaac should follow him. Isaac looked up at Derek shyly through lowered lashes as he nearly crept across the room to join Scott before they slipped out the door.

"You want us to get started on the research?" Boyd suggested, already reaching for the laptop, and Derek looked from him to Stiles in confusion.

"Doesn't Stiles do your research here?"

Boyd snorted before he could stop himself, and Stiles flushed when Erica clarified. "Derek usually has other things for Stiles to be doing," she said dryly, and Derek found himself marveling over how carefully she chose her words to register what they actually meant at first. Then he too was flushing.

Boyd cast a significant look at Stiles, who burrowed into the couch and glared. "We're not together in his world," he muttered. "That's how he figured out he got AU'ed. I kissed him, which set off big old alarms in his head."

Derek looked between the two of them. "Did I miss something?"

Smiling slightly, Erica tipped her head at Boyd. "He thinks Stiles would be moving up significantly in the world if he traded his current alpha in for a nicer model." The words were disconcerting, but Derek was so pleased that Erica's dominant personality was starting to edge through, even just a little, that he almost couldn't care. "Stiles was letting him know that doesn't appear to be an option."

His gaze moved to Stiles', who was flushing and looking down at his lap. The unhappiness there sparked a desire in him to do whatever he could to take it away. "It wasn't the kiss that made the connection for me," he said roughly, addressing Stiles' statement instead of Erica's. Stiles' attention moved from his lap to Derek's face, his own eyes brightening with curiosity. "The kiss… was unexpected," he admitted. "But it was your attitude that clued me in. My Stiles is mouthy and belligerent and gets up in my face and argues and yells. He would never bow his head to me or apologize for undermining my authority in front of the pack." A small smile unconsciously curved his lips. "He would undermine my authority on purpose and then grin at me when he was done."

"Why don't you two go for a walk?" Boyd suggested, his voice rumbling into the silence that followed Derek's words. "Erica and I will handle research duty until Scott and Isaac are back."

Derek nodded, fighting the urge to swallow past a suddenly dry throat. Belatedly, he looked to Stiles to see if he was amenable to the plan. He was still on the couch, appearing to be trying to psych himself up. Erica patted him on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in Stiles' ear. It was faint, but Derek just barely caught the words.

"I think it's more of an option than you realize."

It was a fight to keep from letting his heartbeat speed up at the hint in Erica's voice and the way Stiles glanced up at him quickly, studying him to see if he heard the observation. Derek gazed at Stiles steadily, betraying nothing, until the younger man finally heaved himself off the couch.

"Come on, Cujo," he sighed, waving a hand over his shoulder as he aimed himself for the back door, and Derek allowed a smirk to slip onto his features. These were still his people. They were cowed, frightened into submission, but they were the pack he knew. He just had to show them who they were capable of being.

lllll

"Are you going to tell me what you obviously feel like you can't tell your pack?"

They'd been walking in silence for five minutes, wandering through the Preserve. Stiles was lost in thought, which instinctively concerned Derek. In those five minutes, he'd reminded himself no less than a half-dozen times that this Stiles was different. He didn't know this Stiles, the Stiles who was now looking at him in dismay. "How did you know?"

The immediate admission threw him for a moment. "You're not even going to try to deny it?"

"What's the point?" he grumbled. "I live in a house full of werewolves. I can't hide it, and even trying to lie doesn't go over well."

"Does he abuse you?" Derek asked quietly, and Stiles rounded on him in horror.

"What? No!"

Silence fell as Derek struggled with whether or not to ask his next question. It wasn't his business, it wasn't his place. "Why are you with him? Your entire pack thinks you can do better. Did he force you?"

"No, okay?" Stiles snapped. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he sighed. "Look, I'll tell you if you promise not to tell the others, just to get you off my back. The last thing I need is you trying to take his place because you think I need to be saved from him," he added, voice dark, and Derek shifted away from him in discomfort.

They found themselves at a pond halfway through the Preserve, standing at the edge of the water and watching the fish skim by, just below the surface. Stiles' head was down, his hands were in his pockets, and Derek was content to wait him out.

"I love him, okay? For real, not some Stockholm Syndrome bullshit." Derek glanced over at Stiles, but he was still staring at the fish. "I've known since I was sixteen years old and so has he. The day I turned eighteen, he claimed me as his mate. We've been together ever since, and despite all outward appearances, I'm happy."

Derek wouldn't deny that he was surprised, but Stiles' heartbeat was steady and there was no trace of anxiety or unhappiness in his scent. "If that's true, how come your entire pack hates that you're with him?"

Sighing, Stiles turned his head away before mumbling, "Because I let him treat me like I belong to him, instead of us belonging to each other, when we're around the pack. He feels like being considerate and affectionate and all that in front of anyone else will just make him look weak. He's constantly trying to live up to the memory of his mother and Laura, trying to be the alphas they were, and he thinks if he loses face in front of any of the pack, he'll lose control. He needs that control like he needs the moon, okay? It's the most important thing in the world to him."

"More important than you?" Derek blurted out, and seriously, what the fuck was he thinking? This was none of his damn business, and since when did he care about others' feelings more than he cared about taking care of his pack? The other Derek might not be handling it the best way, but Derek had some experience with that. Pack mattered more than anything.

Except, maybe there were better ways to protect it than breaking down the one person you were supposed to love and protect above all.

"I'm important to him," Stiles bit out, but even Derek could tell he didn't know how far that importance extended. "But the pack… The pack is everything. Without the pack, Derek is nothing. We're nothing."

"Is that what you believe?" His voice was so soft it barely broke the stillness. "Or is that what he told you?"

Stiles grabbed at a stick, hurling it into the middle of the pond and watching the ripples as the fish scattered. "What the fuck do you even care, anyway? You're not even with your Stiles, so why should it matter why I'm with my Derek?"

"Because he gets to have what I can't, and it pisses me off that he's abusing the privilege," Derek snarled, stunning himself the second the words left his mouth. "Your pack is right. You do deserve better."

A sardonic smirk twisted his lips. "Maybe you'll be stuck here forever and you'll get to fix everything he fucked up," Stiles shot back at him. He turned, moving a little closer to Derek. "Maybe you'll get to have me after all. You can be sweet and tender in front of the pack, you can take care of me the way a mate is supposed to. You can fuck me slow and thorough and with love. Would you like that?"

Enraged, Derek shoved Stiles away from him and couldn't even bring himself to be upset when Stiles stumbled backward, glaring at him as he rubbed at the bruised area on his chest. "I don't want you," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "I want him."

"Did you ever tell him that?" Stiles' words were biting, but underneath, there was hope. Hope that the Derek in front of him maybe did something right with the Stiles of his world.

Of course both versions of Derek would disappoint him. "No."

Stiles shrank back into himself, nodded once, sharply. "Right. Because that would entail putting someone else above yourself for once. You're more alike than I thought." He swung away from Derek and stomped off, throwing one hand up when Derek moved to follow him. "I'm going back to the house to help Boyd and Erica out. We'll see you at dinner."

Derek watched as Stiles disappeared into the trees, the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves fluttering fading with the passing minutes. When Stiles was completely out of earshot, Derek heaved a frustrated, aching breath. He wanted to be home. He wanted to see his Stiles. He wanted another chance.

Gazing around at the stillness of the pond, he realized there was a very real chance he would never get any of it.

lllll

As the days passed, Stiles' icy demeanor didn't thaw, so Derek focused his efforts on the rest of the pack. He'd never considered himself the nurturing type-the way his "real" pack reacted to him was more than enough proof-but he couldn't leave this broken pack in the same shape he'd found it in. He hoped he'd be leaving them, anyway. It wasn't that he didn't care about them, but he had a pack of his own to get home to, and he knew they needed fixing as much as this pack did.

He started by gifting Erica a bottle of nail polish. It was "his" Erica's favorite color, a shiny cherry red, and this world's Erica gazed at him with wide, stunned eyes when he handed it to her.

"You won't get mad at me for putting it on?" she asked, voice hesitant and hopeful, and Derek did his best not to wince.

"I can handle the smell if it will make you happy," was all he said, and he wasn't prepared for her throwing herself at him and nearly strangling him with her effusive hug. He could honestly say the scent of her applying two coats didn't even bother him.

Much.

With Isaac, he suggested they work on the Camaro together. Isaac didn't say much, but that wasn't unusual even in Derek's world. They silently passed tools back and forth and smiled when the engine purred. He refrained from recoiling in horror when Scott suggested they paint it. "Can you imagine what would happen when our Derek gets back?" he crowed. "He'd walk outside and find this bright blue Camaro. He'd have an aneurysm!"

"This Derek would, too," he grumbled, and Scott dropped it. One of the nice things about this world was that Scott actually accepted him. He got the impression that Scott was the only one of Derek's betas who gave him any grief, who didn't respect him at all, and that fit with what he had experienced himself. In this world, however, Scott actually allowed himself to be a part of the pack, unlike at home. Derek being a kinder alpha than what he was used to actually made Scott more willing to accept and listen to him. Derek would be lying if he said he didn't honestly enjoy it.

Boyd was the hardest. He honestly wasn't much different than the Boyd of his own world-easygoing, rolled with the punches, quiet and observant. The biggest difference was that he was always serious, none of the sassy, smirky faces Derek had gotten accustomed to.

Derek knew he'd nailed it when he handed Boyd a present on his fourth day in their world. Boyd stared at him for a moment before opening it, and when he revealed the pair of fluffy bunny slippers, his eyebrows shot to what would have been his hairline, if he had hair.

"Boss?" he asked, obviously uncertain what he was supposed to do with the gift.

"Smile," Derek said gently. "It's okay to have fun once in awhile."

Boyd snorted, setting the box down. "Like you?" he challenged, and there, okay. It wasn't exactly what Derek had been going for, but it was an opening.

"Maybe I'm not the best at it," Derek acknowledged. "But I'm learning. Are you?" he added quietly, and Boyd studied him for a moment.

"You know this is going to fuck everyone up when you leave, right?" he asked bluntly. "Because you will. This can't be permanent."

Derek considered the words. "I hope it's not," he confessed. "I want to go back to my world. I have my own pack there, and I have things I need to make right. But I also want to help you. You're stronger than you think you are, all of you. If you can see it, you can survive it when he comes back."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Boyd absently stroked the ears of the pink bunnies on his new slippers. "Derek picked broken kids because they were easy to keep broken. You really think we can stand up to him?"

"I picked fighters," Derek contradicted him, voice firm and daring Boyd to challenge him. "I picked kids who'd been through hell and had the strength to survive it."

The small, wondering smile Boyd gave him was worth every bit of what he was going through. These people needed him, and for once, he knew he was capable of being good for them. This was what he'd needed all along, not power. He'd needed to be reminded that what he'd done for his pack improved their lives and helped them.

He just wanted to go home and tell them they'd done the same for him.

Even more, he wanted to go home and tell Stiles that he'd finally realized what a dumbass he was being. He wondered how many times Stiles had been trying to tell him how he felt. The Derek of this world might be a genuine, grade-A asshole, but he had the confidence to go after what he wanted. This world's Stiles knew almost from the beginning that he was Derek's mate, and Derek never let him doubt it.

While Derek stood there, lost in his own thoughts, Boyd watched him knowingly. Finally he spoke, the words casual. "Stiles loves our Derek for some reason. But it would do him some good to be reminded that he doesn't have to be treated like a second-class citizen."

It was probably the most Derek had ever heard Boyd-either version-say at one time. When his gaze snapped up to meet the other man's, the look in his eyes was one of understanding. "He hates me."

"He's afraid of you."

Derek blinked. "What in the hell could he possibly be afraid of?"

"Falling in love with someone who might make him realize he settled for too little." Boyd shrugs, picking up his slippers. "See you at dinner, boss."

Derek watched him go, heart aching, and wondering if it would be so bad if he let himself fall in love, too.

lllll

It took another three days before Derek and Stiles were alone again. Derek suspected Erica and Boyd had managed to find a reason to get Isaac and Scott out of the house. Erica was starting to open up a little more, starting to flash grins at him every now and then, and she'd winked at him this morning when Stiles snapped at him about something and she led him away with an arm around his shoulders. It pleased him enough that he could almost pretend it didn't bother him that Stiles still wanted nothing to do with him.

When Stiles realized they'd been ditched, he glared at Derek. "Did you orchestrate this?" he accused, and Derek frowned.

"I wouldn't do that," he protested, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Of course you wouldn't," he mocked. "Because you're the benevolent alpha who really cares about everyone and wants us all to be the best we can be, right?"

Derek had had just about enough of the unwarranted attitude. "Fuck you," he snapped.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Stiles shot back, and Derek heaved an aggravated sigh before heading for the guest room he'd been sleeping in for almost a week and a half. Technically his room was upstairs, but that was this world's Derek's room… and Stiles'. Derek wouldn't displace him, even if he could, because he didn't want to smell their scents intertwined, the musk of sex and mate permeating everything, even the walls.

Stiles bit off an oath and followed him. "You might be the world's most cowardly alpha, but even I didn't think you'd run away from the only human in your pack," he remarked sarcastically, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest as Derek tried to block him out.

Rounding on him, Derek snarled. "What the fuck is your problem with me?" he gritted out, and Stiles blinked at him suddenly, as if the concept was baffling.

"Other than the fact that you're trying to take over my mate's pack?" he shot back. "The fact that if we ever get him back, all of his betas are going to be like, 'fuck you, I do what I want' because you had to go and make them all independent and assertive?"

"Listen to yourself!" Derek yelled. "You actually want your friends and packmates to be intimidated and browbeaten? For what? Your boyfriend to pacify his giant ego?" It felt weird to be talking about a person who was essentially just another version of himself, at least in such a negative way, but the more he'd come to learn about badass-motherfucker alpha Derek Hale, the more he hated him. The more he was grateful that he didn't have the control over his pack that he wanted. He didn't want it if it meant he had to act like that.

Stiles stared at him, unable to formulate a response, and it was one of the rare occasions Derek felt like he'd truly caught him off-guard. Either version of him. "No. But the safety of the pack depends on Derek keeping total control."

"You're an idiot if you believe that, and I know you're not an idiot," Derek sighed wearily. "He doesn't need to keep such a tight rein on everyone. It would do all of you some good if you could just let go every now and then. Even him."

The look in Stiles' eyes told him that he knew better, that he'd been parroting the company line, and he was afraid of what would happen if things changed. If he changed.

"Stiles. It's okay for you to want something that isn't him. You know that, right?"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he snapped, turning away, and Derek unthinkingly reached out for him, just a hand on his arm, and Stiles whirled back around and launched himself at Derek.

Derek stumbled back in surprise, his brain not equipped to handle the long limbs and muscle mass that had flung itself into his arms, and before he could get his mental feet back underneath him, Stiles' lips were on his.

He sank into it instinctively, clutching the younger man to him as they kissed, Stiles on the attack and angry, and still somehow desperate underneath it all, seeking and sad and scared. He poured out his frustrations into the kiss that was more of an assault than an embrace, and Derek let him. He wrapped his arms around his mate-no, damn it, the other Derek's mate, not his-and held him until the kiss gentled, lips slowing, dragging against his until they stopped, pressed mouth to mouth, just breathing.

It was Derek who pulled away first, but he didn't say anything, he just watched Stiles as his breathing stuttered and his chest heaved. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"You clearly needed to," Derek contradicted him, voice rough. "I couldn't deny you that."

Stiles lifted his gaze, searching Derek's. "This doesn't mean I don't still love him."

"I know."

"But." He broke off, and Derek swallowed around a knot in his throat when Stiles did. "Sometimes I wonder if he loves me, or if he just saw someone he could mold. A mate who would let him be the Alpha."

Derek watched the fear bloom in Stiles' eyes. "You think he's going to leave you, don't you? When he comes back and realizes he doesn't have that control he used to have, that he might replace you with someone he can keep under his thumb." Stiles' eyes started to water and an ache bloomed in Derek's chest and spread through, overwhelming him. "If he did. I'm not saying he will, but if he did, you'd survive. You are the strongest person I know. You rival every member of my family for heart, courage, love and loyalty. I promise you, the reason every member of your pack says you deserve better is because they know it, too. You don't need him."

Stiles barked out a watery half-cough, half-laugh. "You make it sound so easy."

"It won't be," Derek answered honestly. "But you can live without him, you can thrive without him. And if he comes back, if we get switched and I make it back to my own world, I hope you remember I told you that and make him believe it's true."

His lips curved up in a shaky smile, and Derek had to resist the urge to pull him in. He was starting to care too much for this alternate world pack. It was going to hurt so much when he left.

At least, he hoped it did. He hoped he had the opportunity to grieve losing them, because it would mean he'd gone back home. The longer he stayed here, the more Derek was afraid the switch had been permanent.

lllll

"Hey, Derek?"

Derek glanced up from the laptop he was absorbed in. He hadn't given up researching a way to get home, but even he had to admit it wasn't looking good. There was so little reputable information about alternate universes-universi?-and Deaton's resources were nearly tapped out. "What's up, Isaac?"

"Do you have a minute?"

"Of course." Derek scooted to the side and Isaac hesitated before dropping down beside him, rubbing his hands nervously against his thighs. Derek watched him steadily, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind.

Isaac blew out a breath. "When you go back, can you figure out a way to take me with you?"

Derek stared at him, shocked. "Why?"

"Because I can't stay here when he comes back!" Isaac burst out, the words tumbling out of him like they'd been penned up for days. They probably had. Derek had been here for nearly three weeks now, and every day helped his pack open up, breathe a little easier, learn to relax and be happy and have fun. It was a work in progress, but he'd found himself doing everything he could to encourage it, even encouraging them to disobey him and act out against him. They needed to learn how to stand up for themselves in a safe environment, so that when the other Derek did come back, they wouldn't be so afraid that they backed down.

Isaac was the one exception. He'd lost the nervous, skittish behavior, but he was still remarkably quiet. Even as Erica got bolder, Boyd smirked more, Scott joked and Stiles teased, Isaac mostly watched, cracking the occasional smile.

Derek sighed heavily. "Isaac. You know it doesn't work like that. I don't even know if I'm going to be able to get home, and if I do, I don't know how I would take someone else." Isaac was crestfallen, and Derek continued gently. "Besides, you know that if I took you back, my world's Isaac would end up here."

Isaac looked as if he was going to say he didn't care, but his shoulders slumped forward and he nodded. "I knew you were going to say that," he mumbled, and Derek laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder, hesitating before just going for it.

"What kind of relationship did you have with your father before you were turned?" Isaac flinched, and that was all the answer Derek needed. "What kind of relationship did you have after you were turned?" He was fairly certain the kanima hadn't happened here, as this world's Derek had too strong of a hold on his pack to allow what had happened with Jackson in his own world.

A tentative smile curved Isaac's mouth. "He's scared of me."

"Why is he scared of you?" Derek prompted.

"Because he knows he can't hurt me anymore. I can hurt him instead." His smile dimmed. "But it's not the same with Derek. He can hurt me."

"Do you really think he would?"

Silence fell between them while Isaac fidgeted anxiously. "I don't think he'd hurt me," he whispered finally. "But he could make me leave. If I made him mad enough."

Derek swore under his breath, which of course Isaac heard anyway. "Let me tell you something," he insisted, voice low and urgent. "I guarantee your Derek needs you more than you need him. An alpha without a pack is an alpha begging to be attacked. He's trying to keep you all in line through fear and intimidation, but it's because he's afraid of losing you. He's afraid if you see him as weak and a pushover you won't feel compelled to stay, and you'll start wandering off to find other packs or explore your options."

Isaac watched him for a few moments. "Did your pack do that to you?"

"Erica and Boyd did," he replied instantly. "They left. They were kidnapped and tortured, and when they finally got loose they ran away because they hadn't experienced much happiness since getting the bite."

"But they came back?"

"Yeah." Derek was quiet for a few moments. "Stiles and I found them over the summer between his sophomore and junior years. They were a pack of two, and they were scared and alone. He talked them into coming back. It hasn't been easy since then, but for better or worse, we're a pack."

"What about your Isaac?" He made a face, like it was weird to think about there being another version of him.

Derek shrugged, his face showing his discomfort. "He started spending time with Scott. Scott hates me, so Isaac stopped respecting me as much."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "I hope he got my Derek while you're here. He's going to appreciate you so much more when you're home."

"I think the same will hold true for your pack," Derek offered. "You're stronger than you realize. All of you. He knows it."

"How can you be sure of that?" Isaac questioned, doubt hovering in his eyes.

"Because I've always known it," Derek replied simply.

Isaac stood, smiling a little sadly. "The two of you are so different," he sighed. "I really hope that's one of the ways in which you're similar."

As Isaac walked away, Derek continued to sit on the couch, waiting patiently. Finally, Stiles stepped away from the wall behind him and came around, dropping down onto the couch beside him. "Recruiting Isaac?" he asked, trying for sarcasm and only accomplishing worry.

"We've had this conversation," Derek muttered, collapsing back against the couch. He didn't acknowledge when Stiles did the same, their shoulders nearly brushing. "Aren't you tired of accusing me of sabotage?"

"I'm not accusing you of sabotage!" Stiles snapped. He chewed on his lower lip and Derek dropped his head onto the back of the couch, closing his eyes and waiting him out. "I'm afraid of being left behind."

Derek's head popped back up and he stared at Stiles in shock. "What are you talking about?" he croaked. "Leave you behind?"

"I haven't exactly been subtle about my dislike of your presence here," Stiles pointed out uncomfortably. "You have no reason to want to take me with you when you go."

"Why would you even want to go?" Derek asked in confusion. "I thought you loved your Derek and wanted to be with him."

Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck, anxiety floating off of him. "I do. If I could choose anyone, I'd choose to have him back. But what if it doesn't work that way? What if you go home and I'm left with no one?"

Derek shifted on the couch, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over Stiles', which was settled on his leg. It reminded him of when Stiles had done the same for him, that last day before… Well, before everything got turned upside down. "Like I just told Isaac, I don't know how any of this works. I can't choose to take any of you with me when I go, because I don't even know if I'll go. Or when, or how." He smiled tightly. "You may be stuck with me forever. Then we're both screwed."

Hurt flashed across Stiles' face. "Would it be that bad to be here with us?" His eyes dropped to his lap, and when he spoke next, his words were filled with uncertainty. "Would it be that bad to be here with me?"

"Stiles." Derek waited for Stiles to raise his eyes back to Derek's face. "If I'm here for good, I'll care for all of you. I won't hold it against you or resent you that I'm not with my own pack. You'll be my pack for as long as I'm here."

"You'll do your duty as an alpha, you mean." Stiles barked out a harsh, bitter laugh.

Derek tightened his grip on Stiles' hand, drawing his gaze again. "I'm not going to take his place in your bed," he murmured, eyes softening. "I care about you, Stiles. It took me a long time to realize how I felt about my own Stiles, and you're so much like him, so yeah, I could easily fall for you if I let myself. But I'm not your mate, and I'm not going to pretend you can trade one out for the other."

Stiles glared at him. "If you think I would see it as trading you, like I would with some fucking baseball cards, you're a goddamn idiot," he hissed. "I love him, yes. But I have enough doubts about how he feels about me that I wouldn't die of guilt and shame if I allowed myself to love someone who might actually love me back. You say I'm so much like your Stiles, but in case you haven't figured it out yet, you're not much like my Derek at all. My pack keeps telling me I can do better. Maybe I should listen to them."

Derek watched in frustration and helplessness as Stiles pulled his hand from the wolf's grasp and stood, leveling a penetrating stare at him before turning around and heading upstairs. His footfalls were weighty, pronounced, and mimicked the heavy thud of Derek's heart.

lllll

They circled each other warily for the next several days, and the entire pack sensed they were on the verge of something momentous. Derek could see it in the questioning looks Scott directed at Stiles, and the anticipatory gleam in Erica's eyes, and the way Boyd and Isaac would glance back and forth between them like they were watching a tennis match.

Stiles started out scarily pleasant to him, almost accommodating, and Derek cautiously accepted the truce, not knowing what game Stiles was playing. He couldn't tell if the little touches were accidental, a result of Stiles growing more comfortable with him and the potential that his presence in Stiles' life was more or less permanent, or if they were calculated, meant to seduce or at the very least generate some interest on Derek's part.

He was very interested, and he was certain the rest of the pack knew it; it didn't mean he planned to do anything about it. Derek wasn't going to be the guy who manipulated the situation because it suited what he wanted. He couldn't live with himself if he moved forward with Stiles because he had the opportunity presented to him. Stiles had lost someone he truly loved, and he was latching onto Derek because visually, he was the same person. He could allow that fact to cloud his mind, could convince himself that everything was the same, his mate was just nicer than he used to be.

Derek wouldn't allow that to happen. Stiles deserved better.

His pack had other ideas.

"I haven't seen Stiles smile so much, like, ever," Erica commented one day while they watched him design an obstacle course in the backyard. Isaac and Scott were teasing him about how he was going to have to try harder to build something that would be a challenge for werewolves, and Boyd just lifted one eyebrow in amused silence. Derek nodded noncommittally and Erica studied him shrewdly. "You realize the entire pack knows why he's all of a sudden smiling, right?"

"Probably for the same reason all of you have started relaxing and smiling and enjoying yourselves more than you ever have," Derek replied smoothly. "You're not terrified of everything you do and every word that comes out of your mouths anymore."

Erica shrugged her shoulders, conceding the point. "But none of us are staring at you while we smile like we found something we've been looking for our whole lives." She smiled sympathetically when Derek stared at her, a stricken expression flickering onto his face. "I get why you're not taking advantage of the situation, but have you ever considered that maybe he's the reason you're here in the first place? Your Stiles apparently didn't need you. Our Stiles does."

"Stiles doesn't need anyone," he countered roughly, throat aching as he tried to swallow past the lump that had lodged itself there.

Erica hadn't answered, had just resumed watching Scott and Isaac poke holes in all of Stiles' ideas, but she'd kept flicking side glances at him periodically. He'd pretended to ignore her, but the flutter in his chest didn't go unnoticed by any of his betas.

Boyd and Isaac commented that it wasn't natural for a wolf to deny himself his mate, and Derek glared at both of them. It made him proud when neither quailed away from him, instead matching him with their even, placid stares. "We're not mates," he'd growled, and the smirk Boyd gave him was both frustrating and encouraging. Isaac had straight-up laughed, making an offhand remark that he'd thought Derek was smart enough to not lie to himself, and, yeah, point there.

Scott even got on his case. "We've been telling him for years that he should ditch our asshole alpha and find someone who treats him like he deserves," he complained to Derek one day, while Stiles played a game of scenting hide-and-seek with the other three betas. It involved Stiles rubbing himself all over everything he could possibly touch, going and hiding, and seeing how long it took them to find where he was really at. Derek refused to admit that he found it highly entertaining, and was grudgingly impressed at Stiles' success. It took them, on average, a half hour to find him every time. Erica'd won twice, Isaac once, and Boyd's determination helped him take the last round.

"He does deserve better," Derek replied calmly, and Scott simply made a face at him.

"Don't you get that we all think you're the one he needs?" Scott exclaimed in frustration. "He looks at you like he can't believe he could be so lucky. You have all the good parts of our Derek, but none of the bad ones."

"I'm not a fucking saint!" Derek had snapped back, and Scott got right back in his face.

"Of course you're not, nobody said you were!" he retorted. "But you treat him like he's a real person, like he's valid and matters and isn't a possession to be used to prop you up. Do you have any idea what it did to him, after years of being Derek's puppet?"

Derek had no clue what to say to that. He wasn't the biggest fan of the way the other Derek had treated Stiles, but Stiles had insisted that it wasn't as bad as it looked on the outside. It was bad enough that he didn't truly know where he stood with Derek, but not so bad that he felt abused or mistreated, in general. He'd also made it clear his pack was not to know about it, and though things were better, it still wasn't Derek's place to spill Stiles' secret.

"I won't be manipulated into being a replacement for anyone," he stated firmly. His voice was quiet, but his words were steel. "Stiles doesn't love me. If anything, he's idealized me because he thinks he's lost his mate, and I'm the closest he'll get to ever having that back, so he's convinced himself I'm the better option anyway."

Scott snorted in disdain. "I thought you really understood Stiles," he sniffed, shaking his head. "But maybe I was wrong."

The ever-present frustration, irritation, and confusion only flared further when Stiles finally began to make it obvious that he was looking for something Derek wasn't ready to give. He started sliding his fingers through Derek's hair when he'd walk by where Derek was sitting, rubbing his scent through the strands so that he was all Derek could smell. When the pack cuddled together to watch a movie, Stiles would curl into Derek's side, his head dropped to Derek's shoulder, and Derek couldn't breathe without being overwhelmed by him.

He wanted this. He wanted it so damn much. But it wasn't real. It was two people who'd lost the person they'd really wanted, who were finding solace in someone who knew what they felt, who just happened to look like the person they'd lost. There was no basis for it to be something healthy that could endure.

But when Stiles smiled at him, eyes soft and lips plump, dropping his gaze to Derek's mouth and licking his own lips like he'd been thinking of nothing but devouring Derek for days, his resolve weakened. If they couldn't have what they both wanted-and it was growing increasingly likely they were going to have to face that reality sooner rather than later-Derek wondered if there was really anything so wrong in allowing themselves to fall for each other the way they both seemed to want to.

"You realize it's been a whole month since you got here?" Stiles asked, plopping down on the couch and snuggling against Derek's chest.

Unthinkingly, he dropped his arm over Stiles' shoulders and wrapped it around, pulling him in closer. "It's really been a month?" Derek echoed, surprise coloring his voice. "It doesn't seem possible, and at the same time…"

"It feels like you've been here so much longer?" Stiles finished for him, and Derek nodded. "You've worked wonders on a pack full of scared, browbeaten betas, which is something you would think would take months to accomplish instead of thirty days."

"Maybe if they were weak, it would have," Derek allowed, "but they're not. I just gave them the opportunity to be the people they've always had the potential to be. It wasn't shoved so far down they couldn't fathom it, they just needed that veil of oppression lifted and they fell right into themselves."

"So deep and poetic," Stiles teased. Derek pinched him on the shoulder, and Stiles laughed and head-butted him. "You know, I hated it so much when you first got here, but now I think it's the best thing that could have ever happened to us."

Derek didn't answer. They were walking a dangerous road, and he still didn't know if he was ready to accept what Stiles was offering. "I'm glad I could help you all," he said finally, stilted, and Stiles heaved an enormous sigh. Derek was pretty sure he could actually feel Stiles' eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"You're afraid of me now, aren't you?" he asked, amused, and Derek didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

Stiles let out a loud sigh, pulling away from Derek and shifting so that he was sitting with his knee pressed into Derek's thigh. Neither moved away from the touch. "You know I'm not, like, trying to tell you I'm in love with you now, right?" he asked, voice low, eyes worried. "I know it doesn't work like that. I don't think you're him, and I know I'm not going to fall in love with you just because you look like him. But don't you think it's possible we could fall in love with each other just because of who we are?"

Derek studied the troubled expression on Stiles' face, wondering if he was troubled at the thought of honestly falling in love with Derek, or troubled that Derek might not fall in love with him. "It's entirely possible," he conceded, lifting a hand to cup Stiles' chin, brushing his thumb over Stiles' jaw, the touch gentle and whisper-soft. "It's pretty much impossible to not fall in love with you." Stiles' eyes shone and his whole face brightened; it fell quickly again at Derek's next words. "But this isn't something either one of us is ready for. You need time to get over him naturally, and you need to do it without me getting in the way."

"You're going to make it so easy to fall in love with you," Stiles murmured, his expression a combination of sad, wistful, and hopeful. "When you let me."

Affection caused his gut to tighten. "You might rethink that," he sighed. "You don't see it because you're used to your Derek, but I'm the asshole of my pack, too."

"No, I see it," Stiles returned cheerfully. "But the difference is, you're willing to let go of the asshole exterior for the good of your pack. You opened up and were honest because it was what you needed to do to get Erica, Isaac, and Boyd to do the same thing."

Derek stared at him, stunned at the younger man's perception. He shouldn't be, of course, as his own Stiles was equally in tune with him, but he'd spent weeks battling the man in front of him. He hadn't realized how much Stiles was watching him, studying him, learning him.

"Stiles, I have to ask something. What happens if I do go back home? What will happen to you when your Derek comes back? Will this destroy your relationship with him?" Derek asked, the words feeling like they were yanked unwillingly from his throat, but he had to know. He had to make sure that he wasn't ruining Stiles' future by indulging him.

Sighing, Stiles flopped back against the couch, leaning into Derek again. "I don't know, Der. Will it be easy? Of course not. I feel something for you now, and that's not going to go away just because I have my mate back. But…"

"He's your mate," Derek finished, and Stiles nodded guiltily, as if he'd realized he'd been prepared to so casually discard a relationship that was supposed to be the last one he would ever be in. "Maybe it's time to make him earn that title. Now that you know what you deserve from a mate, and what you want."

"It might be a moot point," Stiles reminded him, somewhat glumly, and Derek knew he'd made the right choice to not let Stiles push him. The younger man was clearly still conflicted, and for as much as he acted like he was ready to throw himself into a relationship with Derek, it was evident he wasn't.

Derek leaned over and brushed a kiss over the top of Stiles' head. "Either way, you have something to work for. It's not going to be easy, no matter what happens, but I've never known you to take the easy way out anyway."

Stiles hummed in agreement, his eyelids drooping shut, and they both fell silent, enjoying the quiet and the companionship.

That night after the pack puppy-piled together to watch a movie, Derek found himself gravitating toward Stiles' room when everyone headed for bed. He hadn't set foot in the room once in the past month, not wanting to infringe on Stiles' privacy and also not wanting to smell his counterpart's scents mixed in with Stiles'. Fortunately, it had faded somewhat in the time he'd been there; it was still evident, but in a lingering way.

"Good night, Stiles," he murmured, stroking his palm over Stiles' cheek, heart beating rapidly when Stiles turned his face into the caress and simply breathed.

"Stay," he whispered, and Derek took an unthinking step backward. "Not to… not to do anything. I just want you to get used to touching me. In case. Y'know?"

"Don't you think we'd be tempting fate?" Derek asked hoarsely. He wanted to. He wanted to so damn much, but he was afraid of crossing a line they couldn't go back from.

Stiles sighed, pulling him close, dropping his head to Derek's chest as his arms slid around the wolf's waist. "I've spent the last month missing my mate, missing what I had, and afraid that I'd lost everything. Now I don't know what I have to look forward to, but either way, I know I'll have something. Can you blame me for just wanting to be held? It's been so long, and I'm not used to sleeping by myself."

Instinct screamed at Derek to run, to flee to his own room and not take Stiles up on his offer.

But he was tired of listening to the inner voice that told him to keep Stiles at arms' length. He was tired of fighting himself. He was tired.

Stepping forward, he pulled the door shut behind him and swallowed painfully at the way Stiles lit up. "Nothing happens. We're not ready for that."

"I promise," Stiles swore solemnly, but his eyes were dancing with happiness as he grabbed Derek's hand and tugged him toward the bed. Bending over, he rummaged in a chest of drawers and then straightened, turning to toss a pair of sweats and a tank at Derek. "Here, something for you to sleep in."

Derek's throat had gone dry at the sight of Stiles' ass so temptingly presented to him, and he had to fight down the surge of desire that demanded to be accommodated. "I'll change in the bathroom," he rasped, ducking into the adjoining bathroom and nearly slamming the door. His heart raced as he stared at himself in the mirror, and he gave himself a silent pep-talk while staring at his gleaming red eyes.

Finally, the glow subsided until he was looking at his normal pale-green irises, and his breathing was steadier. Quickly, he pulled on the sweats and tank and stepped back into the bedroom, finding Stiles already changed and curled up in bed. His heart thumped once, but he willed back his nerves and slid into the bed.

Stiles turned over, facing him, and Derek held his breath. The intimacy was overwhelming, even though they weren't even touching, and he wanted to tug Stiles into his arms and keep him there. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I hadn't understood how much I missed this, how much I needed it, until I realized I was the one keeping myself from having it."

"It wasn't just you," Derek reminded him, his voice so low that if Stiles weren't inches away from his lips he never would have heard the words. "I won't take advantage of your loss, of your loneliness."

Before he could anticipate it, Stiles darted in and pressed a kiss to Derek's mouth. Unlike the first time, it wasn't angry and passionate and hard. It was tentative, gentle, and Derek realized he was holding his breath. As he exhaled, his mouth relaxed and his lips softened, molding to Stiles'. Stiles nipped at his lips, sucking the lower one into his mouth, and Derek groaned.

"Stiles," he choked out, pulling away, and Stiles lifted his chin, their gazes locking.

"Consider that a preview," Stiles whispered, pressing another brief kiss to Derek's mouth before rolling over and snuggling back against him.

When Derek found his voice again, he grumbled into Stiles' neck, "You're a horrible person."

"I know, it keeps me awake at night," Stiles quipped, and something twisted in Derek's stomach. Belying his words, Stiles was asleep within moments. Derek worried that he'd be awake long into the night, but the warmth of Stiles' body against his, combined with the steadiness of his breathing, lulled him into sleep. Before drifting off, he tightened his arm around Stiles' waist, feeling a smile slip onto his face when Stiles snuffled and scooted back against him.

He wanted this. And he was going to let himself have it.

lllll

When Derek came downstairs the next morning, he was actually almost excited to see Stiles. He'd already been up and out of the room, so Derek was spared the awkward morning after, including the morning breath. He still wasn't sure what he wanted to say, but he knew exactly what he wanted to see.

Which… Wasn't the three betas who stiffened when they saw him. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd all watched him carefully as they sat still at the breakfast table.

"Oh come on, guys, don't make it weird," he teased, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and digging around in the pantry for the granola Stiles had bought especially for him when he realized Derek didn't eat cereal. "You know you've all been wanting this for almost a month now."

"What are you talking about?" Erica gaped, and Isaac poked her quickly, hissing at her to shut up.

"You can't honestly tell me you didn't realize I slept in Stiles' room last night," Derek clarified, glancing from one face to the other, startled when he realized they were all beginning to glare at him. "What?"

"Are you telling us you finally stopped giving a fuck what he wants and decided to force yourself on him?" Erica snapped, and Derek got the uneasy feeling he had no clue what the hell was going on.

Boyd was glowering at him, and Isaac stared at him in disgust. "I can't believe even you would stoop so low," Isaac growled. "You're the second-biggest asshole I've ever met, but you know what it's like to be abused. How can you possibly justify doing that to Stiles, who's a human?"

"Would someone like to explain why you're all so angry at me?" Derek asked slowly, and Erica shot up from the table in her rage.

"Stiles has been telling you for the past month that he wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole, regardless of the fact that you're mates with Stiles in your world, but the big badass alpha just had to get what he wanted anyway!" she seethed. "You're fucking disgusting, and I have no idea why any of your pack listens to a damn word you say!"

Oh. Oh, fuck.

"I'm home," he breathed, and that gave all three betas pause.

"Derek?" Erica whispered, eyes shining with a sudden spark of hope, and he nodded. She squealed, running across the kitchen and throwing herself into his arms. Shocked, he stumbled back, unprepared for the unrestrained gesture.

"Boss?" Boyd questioned, not as quick to believe as Erica was.

"I know I'm an asshole, but please don't tell me you can't see the difference between me and that douchebag," Derek scoffed, and the smile that Boyd gave him was brilliant. Isaac sighed in relief and then both of them were wrapped around he and Erica, the four of them squished together in silence, their heartbeats falling into sync while they reveled in being reunited.

The sound of the front door opening had Derek tensing, but then he smelled Scott and… Stiles. He hesitated between relaxing and staying tense, because he didn't know what he would do when he saw Stiles again.

Scott made it into the kitchen first, and his eyes went wide when he took in the sight that greeted him. "STILES!" he yelled excitedly. "Derek's back! The real Derek!"

Derek held his breath as he heard Stiles stumbling toward the kitchen, and then he was falling through the door, and when his eyes met Derek's they were full of hope and fear and they were seeking, searching, and he was holding his breath, too.

"Derek?"

He nodded, throat closing up at the tears that suddenly shone in Stiles' eyes, and he found himself pushing away from his pack, who melted away like they had never been there. Derek watched Stiles, his heart in his throat as the younger man approached him cautiously, and then he was flying almost as fast as Erica had, and his arms were around Derek's neck and he was clutching at him, and Derek just breathed. He inhaled lungful after lungful of the scent that was Stiles, his Stiles, and he was home, and it was the happiest moment of his life.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I thought I was never going to see you again," Stiles was rambling, his lips pressed to Derek's shoulder as he held back the tears that threatened to spill, and Derek's mind spun until he latched onto part of what Stiles had said.

"You're sorry? Why?"

Stiles pulled back, alarm flaring in his eyes before almost immediately fading. "Never mind," he said hastily, and Derek just knew.

"You did this, didn't you?"

"Hey, I just thought it would be nice for you to have a day or two where you were respected," Stiles defended himself, before deflating and adding sheepishly, "I just might have been thinking that while holding a handful of herbs and chanting Latin out of a book."

Derek could hear the barely-contained huffs of annoyance from his betas, and he realized they'd already known. "You sent me there?"

"I didn't mean to," he replied guiltily. "I thought I was getting your pack to back off on the sass. I certainly didn't know we were going to end up with your thousand-times-bigger-asshole evil twin, and we were going to lose you to their world."

"How did you manage to fix it?" he asked, heart sinking when he realized his pack had been subjected to other-world Derek, just as he'd feared.

Stiles and Scott exchanged glances. "We didn't," Scott said with a shrug. "When we couldn't figure out how to bring you back, Deaton suggested we just wait the spell out. I guess it had a thirty-day expiration date."

"And no one thought to ask what would happen if it didn't have an expiration date?" Derek asked, the sarcasm heavy in his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to be mad at the sheepish glances the others traded. He was home, with his pack. With his Stiles.

The thought reminded him that there was another Stiles, one he'd left behind to fend for himself against an alpha who might even now be yelling at him and treating him like shit because he was angry about the situation he'd found himself in for the last month. He hoped that if that was the case, that Stiles wasn't afraid to stand up for himself. He hoped that his betas would stand up for him, would unite against the tyranny.

Mostly, he hoped that the other Derek had gotten a swift kick in the ass with his unexpected trip across alternate worlds and was grateful for what he had, and that he treated his pack and his mate like he actually appreciated them and was grateful to be home.

"Wait a second," Isaac piped up a moment later, and everyone shifted to stare at him. He traded a sly grin with Erica, who apparently could read his mind. "What was all that you were saying, when you first came downstairs?" he asked, and Derek flushed.

"Yeah," Erica chimed in, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Something about sleeping in Stiles' bed last night?"

Derek glanced at Stiles, who was gaping at him. "Um."

"Something you want to tell us there, boss?" Boyd drawled, and Derek scowled.

"There's nothing to tell," he muttered.

Scott smirked. "Taking advantage of the fact that Derek and Stiles are mates in that world?" he taunted. "When that other Derek was here, he couldn't stop talking about what an idiot you were for not claiming your mate as soon as he was of age. He didn't think highly of you."

"The feeling is mutual," Derek snapped irritably. "He treated his pack like shit, and he treated Stiles like a possession, all in the name of power and appearances."

"So did Stiles fall head over heels with the kinder, gentler alpha who respected him?" Erica teased. "He was already in love with a guy who looked exactly like you, but you were like the upgraded version."

Derek was starting to feel boxed in, wondering how he was going to get out of the interrogation, when Stiles spoke up. "Leave him alone, guys," he snapped. "He just got back after being who the fuck knows where for a month. Give him a break." Derek exhaled gratefully, nodding at him in thanks, and was puzzled when Stiles gave him a shrug and a weak half-smile.

"I think this calls for a celebration," Scott announced, taking Derek's attention away from Stiles' odd behavior.

He quirked an eyebrow at the younger wolf. "You're celebrating my return?" he asked in disbelief, and Scott shrugged sheepishly.

"After putting up with that dickwad for the last month, you're not so bad," he admitted. "And I don't think I ever actually hated you, I just wouldn't have minded if something ate your face off." Derek snorted and Scott grinned. "It's good to have you back."

"Hear, hear," Boyd agreed, and the others nodded.

They began making plans for a pack dinner and movie night, something they hadn't done for over a month, and Derek stepped away from their excited chattering to sit next to Stiles on the back of the couch.

"You okay?" he asked softly, and Stiles took a deep breath before nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

Derek could hear the lie, but he didn't know what to make of it, so he let it go. "It's good to see you again."

At that, Stiles smiled genuinely. "Yeah, you too. Welcome back, Sourwolf." He clapped Derek on the shoulder, fingers curling halfway around his neck, and Derek resisted the urge to lean into the touch, but then Stiles tightened his grip. Derek sighed imperceptibly, then let himself lean. Stiles inhaled on a sharp breath, and Derek knew their reunion would have a part two. For now, though, he was happy to just soak in the sights and sounds of pack. His pack. His home.

lllll

"You miss them, don't you?"

Derek glanced up as Stiles ambled into his room, dropping down on the bed while he studied Derek, who was staring sightlessly into his closet. Derek debated playing dumb for a moment, but then discarded the idea. Stiles wasn't stupid, and he would see right through the lie as sharply as any werewolf. "I do." He'd been home for two weeks and whenever he had a spare moment, he wondered how the pack was doing without him. How Stiles was doing with his mate.

"Especially him?" His voice was quiet, and Derek flinched.

"Does it matter?" he asked hollowly, pushing aside a forest-green henley, not even sure what he was looking for by that point. "He was never mine. Maybe I forgot that for a few minutes, but he was always meant for a different alpha."

Silence fell for several minutes, and Derek had to check to make sure Stiles hadn't fallen asleep. When he turned, he found Stiles watching him steadily, albeit a little sadly. "What?" he mumbled self-consciously. "Should I have said I didn't care about him? Would that have made things easier?"

It was brutally honest, especially for him, but honesty had been all but a requirement for him to help mend the broken pack. He'd gotten used to not hiding how he felt. From the look in Stiles' eyes, he was struggling with how to respond to such unexpected openness.

"It would have," he admitted finally, "but I don't ever want you to lie to me. Even when it hurts."

"Why would it hurt?" Derek asked, confused, and Stiles looked away from him, focusing instead on the loose thread of the quilt he was playing idly with. "Stiles. Why would it hurt you?"

"Because I wish it had been me!" he burst out, and Derek felt his eyebrows raise in shock. "He had both of you, and the only way I would have gotten to have even a small part of that was to have let that douchebag asshole fuck me until he got to go home to his real mate. I didn't want to be a temporary substitute."

Derek crossed the room to sink down onto the bed beside him. "I'm glad you were strong enough to stand your ground."

"I'm not weak," Stiles snapped, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I know you're not," Derek countered. "But hearing you were mates in another world… I know that's something you want. It would have been easy to give in to it."

"Like you gave in to him?" Stiles retorted, finally locking eyes with Derek. "Why did you do it? Was there something just so compelling about him that you could forget about the fact that he looked exactly like me? Was it because he was the weak, submissive mate and you had this need to protect him?"

Derek wanted to smack himself for not realizing before how jealous Stiles was of the other version of himself. "I didn't ignore the fact that he looks exactly like you," he admitted, and Stiles' face grew suspicious. "That was what drew me in. That was what kept me from resisting him, in the end."

Stiles blinked at him, mouth hanging open in shock. "What are you saying, Derek?"

Scooting closer, Derek slid a hand over Stiles', stilling his fingers from continuing to toy with the thread. "I'm saying, he gave me a chance to have everything I'd ever wanted. I was weak, and I was about take him up on his offer when I was brought home."

"Everything you ever wanted?" he echoed faintly.

"You," Derek clarified, voice dropping. "You, Stiles."

Stiles watched, dazed, as Derek moved in slowly, giving him time to pull back, but he didn't. His eyes dropped to Derek's mouth as it got closer, and then they flicked up to meet Derek's steady gaze right as Derek's mouth claimed his. His breaths were unsteady for a few moments until he accepted what was happening, and he melted into the embrace.

Derek's heart soared as Stiles leaned into him, twisting somewhat awkwardly to open up under the kiss and twine his fingers into the collar of Derek's shirt. Derek cupped his jaw, wrapping his fingers around the back of his neck and smoothing the pad of his thumb over the moles sprinkled under his ear.

They held that position for a few moments, Derek allowing Stiles to become accustomed to the unfamiliarity of the situation, until Stiles was ready for more. His lips parted and Derek moved in, licking into his mouth and feeling electricity shoot through him to his toes when Stiles countered by licking back. One of Stiles' hands sank into his hair, fingers threading through the stands and gripping tightly, tugging just a little.

It changed then, and both of them felt it. Stiles pulled at Derek a little more urgently, and Derek all but hauled the younger man into his lap, refusing to deny his need to have him close. His wolf howled, screamed "mate" into his ear, and Derek wondered how he'd never heard it before.

Breaking apart with a gasp and a laugh, Stiles pushed the flat of his palm against Derek's chest and held him there. "You wanted me."

"Always," Derek replied immediately. "It took me a long time to realize it, but once I figured it out? Always. It was always you."

"You couldn't have said something before I sent you off to bizarro world?" he huffed out on a shaky laugh.

Derek threaded his fingers through Stiles', rubbing his thumb across the thin skin between Stiles' thumb and index finger. "I didn't know you felt the same, and my control of the pack was tenuous at best," he confessed. "I couldn't risk ruining everything."

"I don't think you're going to have to worry about that anymore," Stiles reminded him with a grin, and it was true. Things had changed since he'd returned. Erica was still rebellious, Isaac was still snarky, and Boyd still sassed with his face without fail, but there was something new there. Derek suspected the encounter with the asshole alpha had shaken them somewhat, had made them realize how much worse their lives could be and how accommodating Derek had been, and they did respect him a little more now.

Not much. But a little.

It was enough.

"So when do I get to move into your room?" Stiles asked casually, and Derek nearly choked.

"I just kissed you," he reminded him. "You're already planning on moving in?"

Stiles scoffed. "Oh, please. Your little Harry Potter moment there pretty much told me you've been thinking of this for awhile. Maybe even since before you went to bizarro world."

"Harry Potter moment?" he repeated, baffled, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I know you live in the pop-culture dark ages, but even you have to have seen the Snape meme," he shot back good-naturedly.

"Snape? You mean the Alan Rickman character with the long hair and really pale face?" Derek was maybe teasing him.

"Oh my God, Derek," he groaned, tipping his head back, and Derek couldn't help it, the sight of that long throat speckled with moles did something to him. He leaned in to lick a broad stripe over Stiles' pulse point, and he choked out a breathless laugh. "Okay, pop-culture class can resume later. Keep doing that thing with your tongue."

Derek was on board with that plan.

They fell into a rhythm with each other after that, something that felt as if it was always there, but was new, somehow. The pack traded knowing grins when they found out, and they didn't even complain about the change in their scents. There was mild bitching about the scent of them together, but Derek was pretty sure Erica was responsible for the fact that it was kept to a minimum.

Stiles did move in with them. It took another two months-Derek refused to make it easy on him-but he was pretty much always at the house anyway. It was different now, of course, as Stiles didn't end the night by collapsing in one of the guest rooms or stumbling his way out to the Jeep to head home, but instead cuddling up in Derek's-their-bed.

When Derek suggested that maybe Stiles should bring a couple boxes of stuff over, Stiles had looked like Derek was giving him the best present ever. He made a show of clearing out two dresser drawers and half the closet, and he made room in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He bought Stiles' favorite toothpaste and the toilet paper he liked, and he made sure to bring in an extra quilt for Stiles' side of the bed, because for some reason Stiles was always cold, even though he was sleeping next to a half-human furnace.

Derek was happy. It was the first time in more than a decade that he could say the words and mean them, but he'd finally settled into the place he was meant to be. He had a pack that treated him as an alpha when it was necessary, and a pain in the ass older-brother figure when it wasn't. He had a home full of love and laughter. He had a mate who he loved with everything in him, and who he knew felt the same about him.

He wondered sometimes about the other Stiles, the other pack, and he knew he would never stop missing them. He would never stop hoping that they'd found their balance, their happiness.

And he would never stop being grateful for showing him that he'd already had everything he'd ever wanted.