Bond Mate Ch1

A/N: This is a 13 chapter fic set after S2 (but no mention of Derek's new pack so AU in that respect.) No spoilers after S2 - no S3 here in UK :-( .

Rated for language and implied shenanigans. Possible triggers: stalking, depressive thoughts, self-medicating with alcohol, suicide attempt.

Disclaimer: Sadly, Teen Wolf, Stiles, Derek, et al, are not mine. If they were … Sorry, zoned out there for a mo. XD

It would be good to know what you like, and don't like, about this fic to help with future fics. I have a ton of ideas in my head.

Chapter 1: Stalker

Stiles didn't know what to make of it. He'd even stopped taking his Adderall for two days in case it was some kind of chemically-induced hallucination. But, no, it was still there. He was still there. Derek Hale.

If Stiles looked up suddenly to glance out of a window, Derek was there. Either somewhere in the shadows of the school grounds or lurking in the shade of the trees that fringed the yard outside his home. At lacrosse, Derek had become a permanent fixture under the bleachers and Stiles couldn't understand how Coach Finstock hadn't done something about the freaky prowler by now.

At the gas station, Stiles had looked up quickly as he slotted the pump nozzle into the Jeep's gas tank and there was Derek, just out of range of the powerful forecourt floodlights. He was only there fleetingly but it was Derek, Stiles had no doubt. He would recognise that surly set of shoulders anywhere.

And anywhere, at any time, was where he'd see him. It was seriously unnerving. Although it might have been a little flattering. At first. After all, Derek was all kinds of hot and maybe, just maybe, he might like Stiles. In the way that Stiles thought that he might like Derek.

Stiles had tried to discuss his personal stalker with Scott. "Hey, isn't that Derek Hale over there?" Scott would always glance up a second too late to see the shadowy figure, and he would then give Stiles that puppy-dog look that said he thought the stress of school or the whole 'my best friend is a werewolf' issue was finally getting to him.

After a while, Stiles gave up even bringing up the name Derek in any context. Scott would moan and bitch about the alpha and Stiles would nod and make appropriate noises, but he no longer involved himself in Scott's werewolf drama.

But there was a dimension to this whole affair that Stiles was loathe to admit to himself; that part of him was thrilled that Derek was watching him. He had jerked off to scenarios like this.

Stiles still felt a frisson of lust whenever he thought about the brooding alpha, but his intellect told him that his feelings would never be reciprocated and teenage hormones were never a good basis for a relationship. He recognised that seeing Derek's actions through the lens of adolescent desire and arousal was distorting the truth, yet part of him was still elated that he was the focus of Derek Hale's undivided attention.

And if Stiles had entertained one small hope that Derek might have been gay with a thing for pale teens who talked too much, he would have accepted the attention. But Derek was straight, and an adult, and easily annoyed. There was no way he would be anything but horrified that Stiles had the biggest crush on him. The stalking had to stop.

Having satisfied himself that neither an overdose nor lack of medication was responsible for the ethereal glimpses, Stiles decided that the only way he could cope was to ignore the man in the hope that he would go away. Because that's what you do with bullies, right? You ignore them. And by now this felt a lot like bullying to Stiles, even though not a word had been spoken between the two since he'd first noticed that he'd gained an extra shadow.

He stopped researching all things lycanthropic and he started doing his homework at the library where he could avoid desks near windows. When Lydia had announced she was throwing a party in honour of Jackson's new Porche (or something like that, he really wasn't paying attention) and she had actually invited Stiles, personally, he had declined, fabricating an excuse that he'd already promised his dad he'd spend some quality father-son time with him that same evening. By the look on her face, Lydia was about to call him on it, but at the last minute she grimaced a sort of smile and excused him.

But his efforts to avoid the alpha proved futile as, no matter how steadfastly he tried not to focus on the dark imposing figure that constantly hovered in his peripheral vision, Stiles found himself actively checking for the werewolf despite himself. He was losing his mind, he was sure of it.

He knew now that he ought to confront Derek directly, have it out with him man to man, um, teen to werewolf. But Stiles baulked at that. What could he seriously threaten an alpha werewolf with that would have any impact on his behaviour? "Back off, Derek, or I'll …." What exactly? That was an epic fail in the making.

And that was how he'd ended up in Deaton's consulting room waiting for a bronchial cat to be discharged.

As the cat, animal carrier, owner and antibiotic tablets (good luck with that!) made their way across the veterinarian's forecourt, Deaton locked the main door and turned to fix Stiles with a knowing stare.

"How can I help you, Mr Stilinski?"

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face before answering. "Honestly, doc? I don't even know."

"Come through to my office and tell me about it."

Deaton led the way into a small adjacent room and indicated a chair to Stiles on one side of a crowded desk, as he took a seat on the other.

"May I ask," he said evenly, "if this is about Derek Hale?"

"How did you know? " Stiles asked, amazed and a little spooked.

"It is sufficient that I do know," Deaton replied enigmatically, with a slight incline of his head as an indication to Stiles to talk.

"So you know that Derek is my stalker?"

"I hesitate to use the term, 'stalker', but, yes, I see how it might feel like that from your standpoint."

"But you know Derek's stalking me?"

"That's really not an accurate description, but, yes, I know Derek has been compelled to seek you out."

"Oh my god! That's such a relief – that someone else knows. That I'm not going mad. But, it's also really disconcerting that it's true – that Derek is stalking me."

"As I said, the term 'stalking' is not all that accurate, and unhelpfully pejorative."

"It's not stalking? Are you kidding me?" Stiles asked incredulously, anger creeping into his voice. "You do know that he's everywhere, don't you? Everywhere I go, he's there. Everywhere. And now I'm pretty sure I saw him inside the library yesterday. Inside! It was my only refuge. I even see him in my dreams, um, nightmares, in my nightmares, so I don't even get a break when I'm asleep. How is that not stalking?"

Stiles voice had become more frantic as he spoke and Deaton rose and came around his desk to perch on the edge of it, facing Stiles.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, "it was not my intention to distress you. But there are other issues here that you are not aware of. I ask you to trust me when I tell you that, from Derek's perspective, it is not a question of stalking."

"I don't goddamn care if Derek thinks he's just out for a stroll that coincidentally takes him to every single place that I go to, at the exact same time. I call it as I see it: I'm being stalked!"

"Please, calm yourself, Mr Stilinski. I understand that this is distressing for you," Deaton murmured in a tone that Stiles imagined he used on doting owners of overweight pets when he advised to cut out between–meal treats.

"Distressing? Not even close! 'Distressing' would be welcome let me tell you. 'Distressing' would be a holiday. You need to get him to stop. Okay? Because I can't do this anymore."

Stiles slumped over in his chair and put his head in his hands as he willed away his tears. The moment of relief he had felt at realising he was not imagining it all had been trashed by the inability of the other man to see how wrong this was. To understand the damage it was doing to him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he let out a sob. He'd had a lot of crap happen in his 17 years and this was right up there with the worst of it.

"Mr Stilinski, Stiles, I do not wish to belittle the strength of your feelings in this matter. I do appreciate that this is difficult for you. But I ask you to accept that this is as difficult for Derek."

Stiles shook himself free of Deaton's hand and straightened in his chair to look the man in the eye.

"No, it's really not!"

"I'm afraid it is. This is a troubling time for both of you."

"You're gonna have to explain that, doc," Stiles said icily.

"It isn't really for me to do that." As Stiles opened his mouth to protest, Deaton held up a hand to forestall him. "I would if I could, Stiles. But tell me, when you arrived here, did you park your Jeep out front?"

A look of confusion spread across Stiles' face as he shook his head.

"No? And did you wait outside, out of sight, until you saw that your friend Scott had left for the evening?"

Stiles nodded slowly.

"I would imagine that you did that because you didn't want your friend knowing why you were here, am I right?"

Another nod.

"And I hope you know that I will treat anything you tell me in the strictest confidence?" At a further nod from Stiles, Deaton continued, "Then you will have some idea of why I cannot explain further in this matter that concerns Derek Hale?"

"But it concerns me too. I deserve to know what's going on. I need to know." Stiles moaned sadly.

"I understand. All I am saying is that it isn't for me to break a confidence. You need answers but I am not the one to provide them."

"Who then? Derek? The guy who's the cause of all this? That's like seeking out a serial killer to ask how to dispose of a body?"

Deaton huffed a broken laugh. "Colourful simile, Mr Stilinski. But quite inappropriate in these circumstances, I assure you. But, yes, you must have this conversation with Derek Hale, not I. It is the best advice I can give you. It is the only way that you might resolve this situation. Do you know Boyce's lumber yard?"

"Boyce's? Yeah, why?"

"Park your car there in 30 minutes and wait. I will ask Derek to meet you. You may discuss your issues in private there, without fear of interruption."

"What? Are you mad? Meet Derek in a parking lot that is so far off the beaten track that even the owner of the lumber yard forgets about it? Do you want my body not to be found until they start up logging again in the spring?"

"You are at no risk, Mr Stilinski. And in any case, I know you will be with Derek. It is just that the conversation you must have requires complete privacy. You will have that at Boyce's."

"Seriously? You're going with privacy over my safety?"

"You will be perfectly safe. Derek, on the other hand, will be taking a certain level of risk that he will be uncomfortable with. But I will convince him that he needs to meet with you nonetheless."

"Derek? At risk from me? Have you been sampling the animal pharmaceuticals? I'm no threat to an alpha werewolf."

"Oh, but you are, Mr Stilinski. Not to any alpha admittedly, but to this one, oh yes. He will be the one at risk here, I can assure you. I know this makes no sense to you just now. That is why you must meet with Derek tonight."