Title: I'm giving you all
Author: ANTchan
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating/Genre: M/Romance
Pairings: Derek Hale/Scott McCall
Summary: "I'd much rather be planning our first Valentine's Day," Scott laughs nervously. "If I promise to make it super romantic, will you let me slip out the back and escape into the Preserve?"
Derek leans over his shoulder, his smile teasing. "What if I wanted to be the one to give the big romantic surprise?"
"I could be convinced if you let me run out of this meeting?"
"Mm. Nice try." Derek leans in again, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple. Scott's insides promptly go, well, gooey. "You'll do great. I promise."
In which a last minute inter-Pack meeting goes, predictably, horribly wrong and forces Scott to consider the werewolf dos and don'ts of relationship traditions.
This story includes Pack dynamics, werewolf traditions, misunderstandings, one cliche visiting Pack asshole, werewolf proposals, fluff, talks about the consent issues of werewolf romance tropes (mating/claiming bites), and blowjobs.
I'm giving you all
Swallow my breath and take what is mine.
(I'm giving you all, I'm giving you all)
-1-
There's a scared boy looking at Scott in the mirror. Oh, he may be a man, technically - twenty-years-old and more world weary than any man his age has right to be. But despite that, all Scott sees is the same scared boy that thought going into the woods at night was a great idea. "Okay," Scott tells his reflection. "You can do this. You've got this."
His reflection doesn't seem too sure about that.
"You can do this," he repeats. As if maybe saying it enough times will make it come true.
There's a soft tap against the bathroom door. "Scott?" Derek's voice calls gently from the other side.
Scott flinches, cringing at his reflection in the mirror. "Yeah, I'm coming," he answers. He takes one last deep breath, one last chance to shake the jitters out of his hands, and finger-combs his hair back into perfect order. When he opens the bathroom door, Derek's expression is sympathetic. "Hey," Scott mumbles. The sight of his boyfriend usually has the effect of chasing Scott's worries away. But today it's just too much, and all he wants to do is curl up against the man and hide.
"Hey. You ready? Alpha Ortega will be here soon."
'No,' Scott wants to say. He's not ready for this. He's supposed to be a college student, only worried about money and putting his life together and making sure he's caught up on classwork so he can take the week of Valentine's Day off to suitably woo his boyfriend. (He's gone through at least a dozen ideas at this point. All of them range from falling too short to being, well, too much. Especially the gift he really wants to give Derek.) He shouldn't have to fret about life and death and starting a supernatural turf war at a last minute Pack delegation. But he's the Alpha, and so he sucks it up and lies through his teeth. "As ready as I'll ever be."
It's a blatant lie, but Derek only hums in response. He steps easily into Scott's space, doesn't even hesitate to lift a hand to Scott's shoulder. It's the simplest touch and yet it sends has the tight vice around his heart easing just a bit. It makes Scott think of all the years they've missed out on, on how many years he'd thought about being this close to older 'wolf. "It's okay to be nervous," Derek reminds him softly.
Scott winces. "You can smell that? Is it that bad?"
Derek looks like he's fighting not to roll his eyes. "Scott, I don't need to smell anything to see that you're nervous."
That's even worse. This is going to be a disaster. Why did Scott ever agree to meet with the neighboring Pack? Life was hard enough when their ragtag group was just fighting to survive. Now they have to add negotiating and politics to it. "This isn't going to work," he says in a rush of breath, panic overtaking him for a terrifying instant. "We should call this off. Alpha Ortega is going to see how awful I am at this and she's going to wipe the floor with me…"
His face is tipped up by a firm hand at his chin before he has a chance to finish. A warm, soft mouth covers his own, smothering the self-deprecating words and even the thoughts. He sways when Derek pulls away, trying to chase after him. The other man grins. "You're going to do fine," he says, leaving no room for argument, and takes Scott's hand to lead him out into the front room. "You've gone over this with Satomi a hundred times. And at least half that much with me."
He guides Scott to down into the armchair facing the door. Scott's never paid much attention to the purposeful layout of the room or the floorplanning of the Pack house, but now that he really looks, it's increasingly obvious that this room was always meant to be for meetings like this. The sitting room is almost formal in comparison to the rest of the house, and it's impossible to get to other rooms without going through this one first - impossible to see into the Pack's private space without making it past this room.
When Derek had designed his new home - the Pack's home, he'd done it this in mind. Scott can see that now. And realizing that sends the anxiety spiraling faster through him. It's one more unspoken thing about being a Pack - about being an Alpha - that Scott doesn't know. That he doesn't have the background for, no matter how much training he's had since high school. He could train for this one meeting for years and he'd still be going in blind. Which is why agreeing to this meeting was a terrible idea.
It's not like he had much of a choice. The Ortegas are now the most powerful Pack on the west coast, given the tragedies that befell both the Hale and Ito Packs in the last decade. Their Pack is old and prestigious, apparently; their territory encompassing most of southern California and south-west Arizona. Given that the Ortega Pack and the Hale Pack were neighbors, and that Scott has inherited the territory (Alpha Ortega's words, which make something bitter turn over in Scott's chest), he couldn't exactly refuse when Beatriz Ortega asked to reestablish communications.
It was Derek who suggested that the meeting take place at the Pack house, in their territory rather than Alpha Ortega's. It would be a show of good faith to welcome an old ally into a new territory, especially after they worked so hard to rebuild it. And that is why Scott asked, no, begged, Derek to be there with him. Not just because this is Derek's house, but because he has a background with this Pack and with werewolf customs in general. And he's slightly less likely than Stiles to open his mouth and cause offense, even if he is equally as suspicious.
And…
A warm hand settles at the back of his neck with a gentle squeeze. Scott's been so caught up in his thoughts that he hasn't noticed Derek stepping up behind him. Scott lets himself lean into the touch. They may have been dating for only a little over seven months, but Scott is away at school so often that everything feels so new. He's hypersensitive to every touch, and every look. The amazement that these are things he's allowed to have now is still so fresh. So not only does he need Derek here, he wants him here. Having Derek stand by him satisfies something primal in him that Scott isn't sure how to name, but he takes solace in it nonetheless.
"I'd much rather be planning our first Valentine's Day," Scott laughs nervously. "If I promise to make it super romantic, will you let me slip out the back and escape into the Preserve?"
Derek leans over his shoulder, his smile teasing. "What if I wanted to be the one to give the big romantic surprise?"
"I could be convinced if you let me run out of this meeting?"
"Mm. Nice try." Derek leans in again, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple. Scott's insides promptly go, well, gooey. "You'll do great. I promise."
They hear the Ortega Pack long before they reach the house. The two of them sit in stilted silence, straining to listen as Alpha Ortega's car winds up the forest road towards the house. Scott takes one last steadying breath. "Okay," he murmurs. Derek nods and goes out the door to wait for their guests' arrival. A car pulls to a stop in front of the house a few minutes later. Even if he couldn't hear the three heartbeats under the rumbling of the engine, the tug of a foreign Alpha in his territory is unmistakable. Scott clenches his hands around the arms of the chair, willing his heartbeat to remain steady.
But something shifts as Alpha Ortega and her three Betas exit the car. There's the barest stutter of a heartbeat - quickly smothered into silence. "Welcome, Alpha Ortega-" Derek starts to greet, but before he can finish, a woman's sharp voice interrupts him.
"Derek Hale?"
"...Yes, Alpha."
There's a conspicuous silence that has Scott all but jittering in his seat. There's several seconds where Scott imagines horrible possibilities of a brewing fight right on their front porch. But eventually Derek steps back inside, leading Beatriz Ortega and her two Betas in with him.
Alpha Ortega an imposing woman. She's tall and solid and walks with a ornate cane due to an injury from a wolfsbane bullet that never quite healed. He's met her only briefly before, when he visited San Diego to help settle Lori Talbot in for college last year. Satomi had acted as a buffer, then, and had done most of the formal introduction work to cover the fact that Scott had no idea what he was doing. Still, Alpha Ortega had been gracious. Even kind. And interested, which is what led to this.
But now something is… different. As Beatriz Ortega enters the Pack house, she's wearing a stony frown. It's as close to tightly concealed anger as Scott has ever seen on her ageless face, and there's something like disappointment flashing behind her eyes. Worried, Scott climbs to his feet. "Alpha Ortega, it's an honor to have you here," he greets, his words coming out only slightly rehearsed. "Did you have any trouble?"
"Everything is in order, Alpha McCall," she returns, but her voice is a measured coldness. Her gesture towards her Betas is almost dismissive. "My guests: August, my son and heir; Vanessa, our vanguard." Scott nods to each of them in turn, growing more ill at ease with each cold greeting.
"It's great to meet you," he attempts, gesturing towards Derek in kind. "This is-"
"Yes, I remember Derek. His mother met with us often." His mouth clicks shut, choking back the rise of irritation. Alpha Ortega doesn't even glance Derek's way, but the others peer in his direction. The vanguard's expression is almost stoic, but August watches with something akin to a sneer on his face.
The meeting goes rapidly downhill from there.
Alpha Ortega is never hostile in her words, but the brittle civility is as subtle as a knife to the ribs. Something has angered her. It's evident in every masked compliment about their territory and his Pack's progress and in every suggestion that both Packs should meet soon. It's all hollow words and steely eyes, and it makes Scott want to sink into his chair. He finds himself running through every possible misstep, and in the end can only deduce that Derek seems to be the problem.
While Alpha Ortega seems to pretend Derek doesn't exist, her Betas are not as careful. Every word Derek speaks, or any advice whispered into Scott's ear is met with judgment or outright disgust. When Derek's last suggestion is met with a quiet scoff, Scott actually grips the arm of his chair hard enough for it to creak. Derek isn't blind to it. His shoulders are growing tighter with every passing minute; his jaw clenching tighter with every near-silent jeer.
"Why don't you run along and get us something to drink?" August finally sighs with a shooing motion. It's said flippantly, not with hostility. But it turns the room several degrees colder all the same.
"August," Alpha Ortega growls, at the same time Scott bares his teeth, halfway to a shout. But before he can let loose the roar that's been building in his chest all through this meeting, Derek lays a hand on his shoulder.
"Of course," he says stiffly. "I'll be back in a moment." Scott watches with disbelief as the older 'wolf simply turns and walks from the room, as if the other Pack hadn't spent the last ten minutes either silently belittling him or ignoring his existence.
"My apologies, Alpha McCall," August amends sweetly, "is that not what you use him for?"
"Excuse me…?" Scott trails off, aghast. He's keenly aware of all the eyes in the room have turned to him, Alpha Ortega's most of all. She's watching him closely now, waiting, not reprimanding her son for speaking of Scott's Pack that way.
August's sneer sharpens, a righteous flicker in his eyes. "You made him to be your servant, yes? Let's not be coy about it, pretending that you wanted him here for his advice. Then again, given how much you smell of each other, maybe you keep him around for something else. It would be easy. I could smell the pining from here."
Scott realizes he's on his feet a second too late. "Get OUT!" The pictures on the wall rattle with the force of his roar. The Betas flinch as if struck. Vanessa leaps to her feet, grasping the Ortega heir by the shoulder as if to drag him behind her at a moment's notice. Their Alpha doesn't move. She's still watching him. "You're no longer welcome in our home," Scott continues at a quieter, but no less furious register. "Leave."
Beatriz Ortega rises sedately from her chair and folds her hands neatly over the head of her cane, unfazed by the sudden outburst. "As you wish, Alpha McCall. Do you wish us to leave the territory immediately, of may we prepare for the trip home first?"
The request catches Scott off guard. She doesn't appear at all worried by how things have turned out. Her eyes are calculating, uncaring of his anger. It makes the burst of rage fizzle out. "I… Take as much time as you need," he replies weakly.
Alpha Ortega nods, and shows herself and her Betas to the door without waiting for an escort. Scott follows them at a distance anyway, the fury icing over in his chest, joining the dread and the anxiety that had settled there long before this. Even after the door is closed behind them, Scott stands and listens to the group get silently back into their car, and drive the long path back to the road.
His hands are shaking.
"Why did you do that?"
Scott can't help but flinch. Derek's come back into the room, his expression guarded. "Why? Derek you heard what they said. It was-"
"He was just running his mouth, Scott. Trying to get a rise out of you. You didn't have to kick them out for that. I can handle a little name calling."
He sputters. "A little- Derek. He said horrible things! I don't care if it was just to piss me off. I'm not going to sit there and let them talk about people I love that way!"
Derek's eyes widen, mouth dropping open enough to reveal the bottom edge of his - frankly adorable - front teeth. It's not going to distract Scott from what happened. He's just ruined their relationship with a neighboring Pack, but Scott doesn't care about that when it was either that or let them say hurtful things about his boyfriend, about his Pack.
"Why would he say those things?" A horrible idea strikes him before Derek can come up with an answer. "Did they always act like this? Did you just go along with us meeting them even if they treat you like that?"
"What? No." Derek steps forward, grasping his arms in firm hands. "No. It's nothing like that." There's no stutter in his heartbeat, but no, no, Scott is intimately familiar with what Derek looks like when he's not telling him something. He knows the careful way in which the older man can't fully meet his eyes, for fear that Scott will notice. "The Ortega Pack is just… traditional. Don't let it bother you."
"...Okay," Scott relents after a moment.
-2-
It's a lie.
It bothers him. A lot.
It bothers him more every time Derek brushes it off, which happens with increasing frequency over the next few days. He refuses to talk about it, going so far as to ask Scott not to tell the Pack why exactly the meeting went wrong. Or even that it went so badly wrong. It only proves that there's more to this than Derek will admit.
But the more worried Scott becomes, the more cagey Derek gets about the whole thing. Until by the end of the week, his boyfriend is all but avoiding him. That's…
No. Scott can't handle that.
"You guys having a fight?" Stiles asks through a mouthful of cheetos. As if he isn't aware that Scott asked him to hang out, not entirely subtly, to ask for advice.
"No?"
His best friend crunches slowly. "Uh-huh. That didn't sound to sure." There's silence between them until Stiles swallows his bite, and then pauses Daredevil. "You guys are fighting right before Valentine's Day. That's rough, man. It was something that happened at that meeting with the Ortega Pack, right?" At Scott's wince, he rolls his eyes. "Please, like you could hide that. I dunno what's more insulting: that you chose your grumpy werewolf boyfriend to be at the meeting instead of me-"
"Well, he does know about negotiating with-"
"-Details, Scotty. Or the fact that you thought you could hide that something happened during the meeting that's causing you and Werebunny to get into a lover's spat. Sloppy, man," Stiles admonishes. "Just sloppy."
It only takes that and a single, prolonged stare from Stiles for Scott to break his word, and tell him everything. Every out of place word from Alpha Ortega and every veiled barb that had been sent their way. It's vindicating for Stiles to make outraged sounds as he's retelling it, and even interject with "What a dick!" at appropriate intervals. At the end of it, though, he's frowning thoughtfully.
"He said you made Derek to be your servant," he says. "Why?"
"I… I don't know," Scott admits. It's one of the many things about the entire encounter that confuses him. "I mean, he can't be. Derek's always been one of us. We're all equal, right?"
"For sure, dude. But that's still significant. Why would they consider Derek the Pack servant?"
That, Scott doesn't have an answer for. And the fact that he can't worries him - the fact that he doesn't have the knowledge to answer worries him. "I think I need to ask Deaton…"
Stiles scoffs into his soda. "Good luck with that. Tell me if he gives you a straight answer for once."
"He's helped us through a lot, Stiles."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he has to be so coy about it. Sometimes I just want to know how to kill something. Not a metaphor for balance in the universe."
Scott rolls his eyes, and elects to unpause the episode rather than dignify that with an answer. They don't get more than a few minutes into Matt Murdock laying into a group of mobsters before Stiles speaks again.
"So… was that the first time you told him you loved him?"
Scott freezes, soda can just barely touching his lips, and then slowly, carefully, sets it back down. "...What?"
"Derek," Stiles clarifies, brows arching. "Was that the first time you told him you loved him?"
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. It takes two more tries for his exact words to Derek to resurface. And then he grabs his pillow and brings it to his face. And lets out a low, pained moan.
"You didn't even realize you said it, did you?"
"Nooooooo."
Stiles pats him on the back, his voice pitying. "Hang in there, buddy."
-3-
Deaton doesn't have the answers he wants. In fact, his initial response is a confused frown and a gentle, "Maybe you should be asking Derek about this."
Scott hasn't heard from Derek in four days other than a strained "I'm doing fine" and a weak excuse about going through the Hale Vault. If it weren't for the fact that Scott wants to figure this out before confronting him again, he'd be knocking on Derek's front door within the hour. Not that he tells Deaton any of that. "I've tried. Derek doesn't want to talk about it."
This doesn't seem to surprise the former emissary all that much. "Ah, I see. Then might I suggest speaking with Satomi? These Pack relations are something very special, Scott. It's not something I have any right to teach you." And then he smiles calmly, and reassures Scott that everything will work out well.
Which is not how things turn out. No, in fact, Satomi's first words to him after picking up the phone are: "Mister McCall, would you like to explain why Alpha Ortega was under the impression that you claimed Derek Hale outside of bonding?"
Scott wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. This is Alpha Ito, not Satomi. This isn't the gentle, guiding voice in his ear. This is the same steely voice she's used when they've faced off against hunters together. This is her seeing a potential threat. If possible, his heart withers even more. "I… what? I was calling to ask why Alpha Ortega's son acted like Derek was beneath him and… said nasty things about him?"
The line is silent for a long moment. And then Satomi sighs.
"I think you had better explain this from the beginning."
Scott rubs a hand over his face, and recounts the story for the third time this week. Except that now it comes with all-consuming dread. He was right. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Satomi listens to the tale in severe silence, and at the end of it lets out what can only be an exasperated hum.
"That boy…" she says softly. "He's told you nothing of this since?"
"No, ma'am."
"Hm. That boy, that boy… alright, Mister McCall, you may want to have a seat. We are in for a long talk."
Scott doesn't obey right away. Instead he paces around his room, willing his heart rate to steady out. "Okay. Okay…"
"Do you know what I mean when I say bonding, Scott?"
Scott licks his lips. "I… no. Is it bad?"
"No, no. It's a general term describing the various rites werewolves perform during marriages."
He freezes. "M-Marriage?"
"Mm. There are a number of rituals used during and around matrimony to accentuate and nurture the bonds between 'wolves. You already know we are creatures of interlinking bonds. A truly powerful and stable Pack is made of strong bonds - bonds of family and friendship, and, in our current case, bonds of love. 'Wolves that are bonded together will grow stronger, or so is the idea."
"And what does that have to do with Alpha Ortega being angry with me?"
"I would not call it anger. She was, however, concerned that you have claimed Derek Hale as your concubine rather than treat him with the due deference of an Alpha's mate."
"What?" he yelps, loud enough that his own voice echoes back to him around the room. "No, I wouldn't-! How is Derek-? How could they think that I would-?" A hysterical whimper works its way up his throat.
"In days past, Alphas would sometimes simply lay claim upon a Beta, rather go through the bonding rituals. In traditional circles it's considered rather distasteful, since sometimes those Alphas would keep the Beta without completing a bond, making them little more than a personal servant and bedwarmer rather than an equal companion."
He finally does sink onto the edge of his bed. He rests his forehead in his free hand and wills himself not to be sick. "I would never do that to Derek!" he rasps.
"I told her as much. She and I had a long conversation about young 'wolves flouting tradition and being perfectly happy to do things at their own pace, in whatever order they see fit. Do not worry so much about her, Scott. Beatriz Ortega is a good woman, but very traditional. If you and Derek were to take a mating bond at your own pace, then it is not her, or her Pack's business."
"It's not," Scott agrees firmly. "It's not any of her business whether… whether I'm making an honest man out of Derek or not!"
"As you say."
There's a stretch of silence.
"Satomi?" he asks. "Did I really claim Derek like that?"
"You were not aware?"
"No, I- how would that even happen?"
"Well. It has mostly to do with intent. And intimacy. If I have to explain that to you at this point in your life, Mister McCall, then I think you should consider suing that high school of yours for poor sex education." At Scott's mortified sputter, she laughs softly. Some of the tension has eased from her voice, at least. "It's a bite during sex, Scott. If the intent is present along with it, the claim will take hold."
His mind dredges up the memory of their first night together, not so long ago. Their first full moon as a couple. He remembers the moonlight and the way it reflected off of Derek's eyes, Derek's hands in his hair, his legs clinging around Scott's waist and- yes. A bite, when the instincts had risen up and overtook him. But Derek hadn't reacted differently back then. He'd barely even acknowledged it, brushing off Scott's apologies.
Had Derek known then? Had he been too shy to say anything? Has Derek been frantically searching for something Scott didn't even know he had to give all this time? Had he… Did he even want to be with Scott? Or was it something he was putting himself through because he didn't know how to tell him?
Had Derek even consented to such a thing?
He has to shove that thought quickly into the death trap from whence it came, or else he's actually going to be sick. "Satomi, what do I do?"
"Speak with Derek, for a start. A claim like that can be rescinded, if not everyone is in agreement. Otherwise, you could just leave it, or do with it what you see fit."
Scott can clearly hear the opening Satomi leaves for him in that last statement. Satomi has always been a master tactician when it came to these Pack relations, having several decades of experience on him. If Scott ignores her gentle prodding, she won't question it.
But on the other hand…
"Weren't the Hales traditional too?" he asks quietly.
"The Hales were a very old Pack and seen in high standing by most. And yes, a touch traditional." She must take Scott's silence as permission to continue, because she says: "You're in luck, if you want to do something. There is a ritual traditionally done during the Snow Moon that the Hales held in significance."
Scott does a mental check of the lunar calendar (something that fifteen-year-old Scott would have found ridiculous) and smiles ruefully. "There's a ritual for Valentine's Day?"
"In a sense, yes," Satomi chuckles.
Okay. He can fix this. If… that's what Derek wants.
"Would it be alright if I came to meet with you? I'd like to discuss it, but I'd like to do it in person."
There's a smile in Satomi's voice when she answers. "Of course. I find myself free this evening if you would like to speak tonight."
"I'd love that. Thank you, Satomi. I'm sorry if this has caused you trouble. I'll see you tonight."
He's already grabbing his keys and his helmet before he hangs up the phone. But before he goes to leave, he hesitates. His hand hovers over the doorknob for a few seconds, and then he bites his lip and takes his phone back out of his pocket. Derek hasn't texted him since this morning, but it feels wrong to leave without saying anything.
I'm headed out to meet with Satomi. I might be there a while.
If you're free tomorrow, can I come see you?
He takes a deep breath, and just goes for it.
I love you.
I know I sprung that on you before. And I'm sorry about that. But I do.
He isn't expecting an answer right away, but Derek surprises him as he's slinging a leg over his bike.
I'll see you tomorrow.
I love you too.
Scott grins, hope curling in his chest or the first time in days.
-4-
The next day comes and Scott is… nervous, to say the least. His talk with Satomi lasted long into the night. And even though all of his questions has been answered, the realization that he's been screwing up this whole time isn't without it's fair share of guilt. Even knowing that he now has all the tools to fix it, there are still so much that he needs to work out.
Derek's actual consent in the whole ordeal, for one.
Scott gives himself all morning to let his mind go in circles around the idea - to let it work through all the doubts that he knows are probably unreasonable. And then he gathers tiny wrapped bundle Satomi had given him, and goes over to Derek's.
His boyfriend waiting for him on the front porch when he pulls his bike to a stop in front of the house. He looks like a man facing a firing squad, his face carefully blank in that way it always in when he's expecting an argument. So Scott quickly dismounts and locks the bike into place, not caring that his hair is a little wild from being in his helmet. He takes the front steps in a single bound and leans up to kiss Derek before the fatalistic thought spiral can take hold of him. "I missed you," he says sweetly against Derek's lips.
Derek relaxes into the kiss cautiously, as if he's afraid to hope and it breaks Scott's heart to know this part of the other man.
"I love you," he reassures him, and nuzzles at the corner of his mouth until the hard line eases. It's the first time he's actually said it out loud, in exact words, and it fills him with warmth.
"I missed you too," Derek finally says. "And I…" Scott pulls back, smile growing as he watches Derek flounder and blush to the tips of his ears. There's a giddy flutter in his heartbeat that Scott could never miss, happiness and embarrassment radiating off him. To see how genuine he is about his feelings is a relief, after all of Scott's concerns about just how much consent Derek had in this. And when Derek eventually fails to say the words, he doesn't fret. Only leans in to wrap his arms around him in a brief squeeze.
"How…" Derek clears his throat, lashes lowering bashfully. "How was your meeting with Satomi?" He moves out of the doorway to let Scott inside, but Scott doesn't go far.
"It was good. I needed to hear what she had to say." He fiddles reflexively with the little cloth bundle in his pocket as he reaches out with his senses, just like Satomi said he should. It's something that he should've learned years ago, to recognize and quantify the bonds with his Pack. If he had, he would've noticed that Derek feels different than just a Packmate. And it's not just because of the feelings Scott has for him. It's so obvious now that Scott knows where to look. He bites his lip, and shoves down the swell of guilt. "You know why I went there, right?"
The uncertainty flits back over Derek's expression. "I have an idea."
"So you know I need to ask you some questions, then."
Derek shrugs, and fails to make it look casual. "I guess."
He gestures for Derek to sit down, to maybe make this comfortable, but the Beta shakes his head and only urges Scott to continue. "Okay. I guess, then…" He takes a deep breath. "You and I, we're… we formed a bond. That first night together, at your place, when we went out on the full moon. It was then, right?" Frustrated with his inability, he pushes on. "We mated then. Or uh, started it."
Slowly, Derek nods, and his tone is carefully neutral. "Yeah."
"How long have you known?"
His boyfriend doesn't answer. His eyes flit away from Scott's face guiltily. "Since you left to start at Davis," he admits.
"Derek," Scott gasps, horrified. "I'm sorry. I should've… should've asked. Should've known what I was doing. Why... didn't you say anything?"
"It's not as bad as you're thinking," Derek tries to placate. When Scott frowns in disbelief, he shakes his head. "It's not. It just happened. It wasn't anyone's fault. If anything, at the time, it made me feel good. I'd loved your for… a long time. And when I realized the bond had formed, it felt good to know it went both ways. And you didn't know, and it was an accident. You were going off to school and trying to do something remotely normal and safe for once so I just… thought it could wait."
"But Derek, I didn't give you a choice. I didn't ask if you wanted this."
"And I never asked you if you did either. I was okay waiting."
"But… all those things Alpha Ortega's Pack said-"
"Scott, it's…" Derek lets out a heavy sigh. "Those things they said were out of line and from an old, nasty tradition that would never apply to us. You don't have to listen to them."
"I do if it matters to you," Scott insists. He steps forward into the other 'wolf's space, lifting his hands to cup Derek's face. "Derek, do you want to be my mate?" he asks earnestly.
Derek's throat works, but no words come out. His eyes have gone wide and vulnerable. "Yes," he whispers at last.
Scott smiles. "Then you are. We can be. We can do it right this time."
He half-expects Derek to argue with him over who should take the blame again, but instead Derek only gazes at him in what is dangerously close to wonder. And yeah, Scott gets it. Scott can feel it too: that something has finally settled into place like it was supposed to all along. It's weak and needs nurturing, but it's there. His chest feels like it's going to burst, and he thinks it's from the swirl of emotion before he realizes he's holding his breath. Scott lets out a breathless laugh, and leans up to brush his smiling mouth against Derek's.
Arms go around him immediately, pulling him in and up just another half inch, and Derek kisses back with an equally breathless eagerness. He slips his arms around Derek's shoulders, wanting nothing more than to sink into it, to keep kissing Derek forever. But he can feel Satomi's gift being squished between them, and oh, yes, there's something else they need to discuss.
Scott pulls away reluctantly, brushing his thumb over the slick curve of Derek's lips in apology. "There's something else."
His boyfriend huffs, nearly pouting at him. And fuck, if that isn't adorable. "What now?"
The cloth bundle in his pocket feels ten times heavier now as a new wave of nerves takes hold. "Satomi and I talked about a lot of some old rites and traditions. It was a lot of help. But there was one we talked about that I really liked. She uh… she said it was considered super traditional now, but… well…" Trying not to wince at his awkward presentation, Scott takes the little bag from his pocket and offers it to Derek.
He keeps his eyes on Derek's face as he opens the bag and upends it into his palm, far more interested in the play of curiosity and anticipation there than anything else. And when the little seed bulbs topple into Derek's hands?
Nothing could be more breathtaking than the surprise, the awe that flits over Derek's face. Scott will remember the open softness on Derek's face for the rest of his life. The sheer vulnerability, so sweet and rare, is enough to make Scott's heart do somersaults in his chest.
"Happy Valentine's Day?" he ventures. "Or happy Snow Moon, I guess."
"Scott, do you… you know what this is?" Scott's not imagining the tears shining in his boyfriend's eyes, and it makes him even more adamant that he's chosen the right path. He loves this man - so much that it's hard to breathe, hard to think of anything other than the fact that he would do anything to make Derek happy and know that he's cared for.
"Yeah," he assures. "They're moonflower seeds. Satomi and I talked about it for a long time." He watches the way Derek's breath seems to spasm at the word. "It's an old, old ritual for some Packs. Two 'wolves to plant moonflowers between in winter, during the Snow Moon, and spend the months nurturing them. Letting it… represent their love for one another. And then, if it's taken care of and it blooms, they can use the flowers in their wedding."
There's something thick and tellingly wet in Derek's voice when he speaks. "You know my mother had these in our garden, right? From after she and dad got married."
Scott nods gently, and offers a tender smile. "Satomi might've mentioned that." But Derek still hasn't answered one way or the other. And despite the lack of overt rejection, it's starting to make Scott nervous. "Derek?"
Derek's eyes meet his, searching. "I just want to be sure. You don't have to do all of this because you feel like I want it. Or because I'm expecting this. You know that. Right?"
"Yeah, I know. I'm not saying we have to rush into anything. If I'm, uh, understanding this right, the moonflowers are a promise." He swallows past the nervous lump in his throat. "It's a declaration that we're a sure thing. And… And you are a sure thing for me, Derek. We can take it however fast or slow we want, but I want to be in your life." His words strain at the end, emotion choking them off in his throat.
And thankfully, Derek saves him from having to stammer over his jumbled thoughts any longer. With a desperate whine he darts forward and kisses him, sweet and tasting vaguely of salt - unshed tears. It makes Scott's chest ache, even though the only thing he can sense in Derek is joy. A joy so rare and precious in their lives now.
Scott melts into the kiss. His heart pounds a staccato against his ribs. His hands shake as they lift to cup Derek's face, his fingers petting through the prickly-softness of his beard. His boyfriend pulls away for only a moment, though much to Scott's displeasure. He peppers adoring kisses along Derek's jaw as the man drops the moonflower seeds back into their bag and tries, with some difficulty, to toss it onto the shelf nearby. He keeps swaying closer to Scott, a guttural sound working its way up his throat at every promising kiss that Scott brushes against the hinge of his jaw.
As soon as the cloth bag lands safely, Derek turns back to him, hauling him up almost off the ground and moving to press him against the nearest flat surface he could find - which turns out to be the table sitting against the wall. The edge scrapes along the backs of Scott's thighs as he fumbles to get up onto it. If he were still human, it would be a bruise come morning.
(If he were human, none of this would ever have been possible. If he'd never been Bitten, he'd never have met Derek at all. Never connected with the people who have become his Pack, perhaps never even met some of them. It's all if, if, if. Scott has been wondering about ifs for most of his adolescence, round and and round, wondering if he should be grateful or accepting. Maybe he'll never know.)
Scott tugs until Derek slides in between his splayed legs; until they over balance and Scott's shoulders hit the wall behind them. The other man is a line of solid heat against him, clutching him close, devouring his mouth. It's all Scott can do to keep up, pawing at Derek's clothes, desperate for the feel of his skin, sucking on his tongue as he eagerly delves into Scott's mouth. His mind goes wonderfully blank of anything but the heat and the press of Derek's body, all of the pent up anxiety and worry pouring out of him.
"I love you," Derek pants against his parted lips. "Fuck."
The pleasure that goes zinging all the way to Scott's toes would definitely agree. "Love you so much," Scott responds in kind, ducking out of the path of Derek's searching lips and latching onto his throat instead. He moves on instinct, mostly, his mind too fuzzy at first to realize he's sought out the place he'd bitten Derek all those months ago.
He barely gets to do more than scrape his teeth over the spot. A butchered moan rips free of Derek's mouth at the first hint of a bite, and suddenly Scott is being tugged away from the table by his belt loops.
"Upstairs," Derek breathes. "Now."
Together they make a valiant attempt at moving to the bedroom. The flaw in that plan is that, in order to relocate, they have to let go of each other first. Which neither of them seem to want to do. Scott ends up trying to climb the stairs backwards, hands fisted in Derek's shirt and nipping at his lips as he tries to remember how to walk, let alone how to do it backwards and up the stairs.
So when he trips and goes tumbling, dragging Derek down with him, it's not much of a surprise to either of them. Between the two of them they manage to slow the fall enough that Scott doesn't end the night with a concussion. He ends up sprawled across the stairs with Derek poised above him, blinking down at him as if he's confused how they got here.
Scott can't help it. He tips his head back and laughs breathlessly. It's a giddy little thing, drunk off of kisses and relief, and smothered quickly as Derek lowers his smiling mouth to his once more. Even as Scott presses up into the kisses his body continues to shudder in muffled laughter. "Mm," he hums as Derek abruptly slides down his body, caressing a line of hot kisses down his neck along the way. "I thought we were going to the bedroom."
"In a minute," Derek mutters distractedly. He has a particular goal in mind, all but ripping Scott's jeans open in his haste. The breath freezes in Scott's chest, his eyes wide as he watches his boyfriend shove his jeans past his hips. The only warning he gets is a predatory smirk before Derek takes his half-hard dick into his mouth, swallowing him down without pause.
"Derek!" he yelps, fingers clawing at the stairs. His feet slip trying to find purchase until Derek hooks them over his shoulders. And then it's all Scott can do to hang on. It's all glorious suction and wet heat, so intense that it's like his nerve-endings are sizzling under his skin.
He thinks to slow Derek down, to ask him to wait, but the other 'wolf is working his mouth along his length like a man starving for it, uttering the most delectable moans around him that sends pleasure shooting up Scott's spine. His hands finally find a grip in Derek's hair, tugging a touch too hard in time with his strokes. But Scott can't think to stop, not when his back is bowing off the stairs at the relentless pace.
It's too soon, too fast, a steady stream of "fuck, oh god, Derek" pouring from his mouth, and his hips rocking in shuddering jerks. It's just a mind-bending ride straight to the edge, so intense that Scott forgets how to breathe. The only time Derek slows down, even a fraction, is to keep him at the brink. To let him go and brush hot kisses over his aching dick, his sac, and his trembling thighs, heedless of his pleas to not stop don't ever stop. He does it over and over again, until all Scott can do is shake and beg for mercy. Derek grips his hips hard enough to bruise, and as the orgasm is finally ripped out of him Scott can only think of how badly he wants to keep them.
"Derek," he pleads, breath hiccuping around a whimper as Derek sucks him clean. His hands are still clenched in Derek's hair, dark and soft between his fingers. Scott's not entirely sure if he's holding Derek down or if his boyfriend is refusing to come up. It all gets a bit hazy and oversensitive for a while. Until Derek finally shows mercy and lets Scott's cock slip from his mouth.
Scott watches as the man sits up into a kneeling position on the steps. His mouth is red and slick, face flushed and his chest heaving to catch his breath. He looks more than a little wild, and Scott's dick makes a dizzying effort at getting hard again just looking at him.
"I… that was… holy shit," Scott gasps eloquently.
Derek licks his lips, and Scott's eyes track the motion, mesmerized. "I'm not done with you yet, Alpha," he promises darkly.
Oh god.
They do make it to the bedroom in the end.
Eventually.
-5-
They plant the moonflower seeds on Valentine's Day, in a little pot in Derek's kitchen window. There's no special fanfare to it. Just the two of them huddled around a terracotta pot in the kitchen, with the moonlight pouring in through window.
And then they rush upstairs to consummate their courtship all over again. And again. And once more in the shower after they can't take being sweaty and sticky anymore.
The news reaches the Pack quickly, because apparently werewolf inter-Pack gossip goes around as fast as small town gossip does. He's trying to enjoy a relaxing soak with his boyfriend (Fiance? Mate?) the morning after Valentine's when his phone nearly buzzes itself off towel cabinet with the influx of texts from everyone and five very insistent phone calls from Stiles.
From Kira: OMG CONGRATS! :D I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS!
From Liam, Mason, and Hayden respectively that read: Does this mean I have to call him Dad now?
Don't listen to him. We're happy for you.
Liam's an idiot. We're totally calling you both Dad now.
From Lydia, he gets picture of herself, Jackson, Allison, and Isaac at dinner at some fancy restaurant in France. Allison is holding up a paper that says "CONGRATS! 3" in permanent marker.
Danny sends a pictures from New England with Ethan and Aidan lingering in the background. You gave him MOONFLOWERS, McCall?! Oh my god you SAP.
Malia: It's about goddamned time. But ugh, god, now you're going to be even more obnoxious.
Boyd and Erica send him a video from their honeymoon in Hawaii. Erica waves, her ring flashing in the sunlight. "Derek, you're making me your best man, you know that right?" Boyd calls over the sounds of the ocean.
"And I'm going to fight Lydia to plan your wedding! Don't let her take it from me!" chimes Erica.
Scott doesn't even get the chance to read Stiles' wall of text before his best friend is calling him again.
"Ignore him," Derek huffs, mouth hot against his shoulder. Scott shivers despite the warmth of the bath and Derek's body pressed all along his side.
Scott almost considers it. But then again, he's known Stiles for most of his life. The man is his brother, both in spirit and (hopefully) in name soon. He knows exactly how effective ignoring Stiles Stilinski is going to be. "If I do, he's just going to show up here," Scott warns, smirking as Derek smothers a laugh against his skin. He accepts the call.
"Hey, Stiles-"
"You WEREWOLF PROPOSED to him?!"
Derek's entire body shakes, the sharp ridge of teeth at his shoulder now in an effort to keep from laughing.
"Sorta." Scott debates telling him that turns out he technically he "werewolf proposed" to him on their first full moon months ago, but… no, that would cause more trouble than anything. He'll explain that later. "How're you? Did you guys have a good Valentine's?"
"Fine. Fine. You know 'Lia doesn't do the whole Valentine's Day thing. So we invited Kira over and hung out all night. Don't try to distract me. What do you mean 'sorta'? There's no sorta proposing, Scott! Either you propose or you don't."
Scott bites the inside of his cheek, and elbows Derek gently in the ribs. His mate's laughter isn't helping. "Technically you don't start planning the wedding until after the moonflowers bloom, so it's not really a proposal. More like a… courtship?"
There's a beat of silence, and then Stiles makes a sound rather like he's been stabbed. Scott's been stabbed before, he knows what that sounds like. "Why, Scott McCall," Stiles coos, and there's an honest to god, piss poor attempt at mimicking a Southern belle in his voice. What. "I do declare, you are the most gentlemanly Alpha I ever did see-"
"Stop!" Scott giggles.
"Seriously, you are the most god awful, cheesy, romantic sap. It would be funny if it weren't so tragically corny."
"Like you would pass up the chance to obsessively woo someone for months."
"Goddamned rightI wouldn't!" Stiles shouts vehemently. "I'm seething with jealousy over here."
"I can tell-" Scott is thwarted from teasing Stiles any further, because Derek snatches the phone from his hands.
"Stiles," he grouses. It's more for show than anything else. There's still a hint of a smirk playing about his mouth.
"Sourwolf, sweet sourwolf! Are feeling suitably wooed today?"
"I was until you called."
"Ooohh was I interrupting something?"
"Don't be a dick, you know you were. I'm hanging up. If you call back, I'll make you regret it."
"Like I haven't heard that before-"
Derek hangs up with a growl, and tosses the phone back onto the shelf. "Careful!" Scott yelps as it clatters around.
"It's fine." The older man sinks down in the tub a little more, his knees emerging from the hot, perfumed water just a bit. There must have been coconut oil in the bath bomb they used, because Derek's skin is soft and smooth where they press against together. "Sorry," Derek mumbles, leaning his head on Scott's shoulder.
Scott blinks, mentally backtracking over the last few moments. He'd completely gotten lost in having Derek so close. "What? Nah, don't worry about it." He shuffles to get comfortable again, twining their fingers together and turning to nuzzle Derek's damp hair. It's only them here, now, in this little corner of the world they've made for themselves. Only the soft rippling of the water and the soft music they have playing on Derek's phone and their steady heartbeats in his ears. The outside world doesn't exist in this moment.
And then the music cuts off with a bubbly chime.
Derek groans.
"Wanna take bets if that's Cora or Braeden?" Scott asks gently, doing his best to keep his grin at bay.
"Depends who Stiles told first."
The phone's chiming gets louder.
"You gonna get it? I… really don't want to face down either of them if they come storming the house." At Derek's skeptical glance, he arches his brows. "You know they would. Cora came up here from South America on a rumor of a Hale Alpha, remember?"
His boyfriend considers that for a long moment, and then sighs and starts to climb from the tub.
"I believe in you!" Scott calls after him.
-6-
Their last hurdle comes a week later with the return of the Ortega Pack. It's Derek's suggestion that they extend an invitation once more, and while Scott knows they have to, he would rather put it off for the rest of eternity.
But this time he has Derek standing firmly at his side after escorting the Alpha Ortega and her Betas inside, rather than hovering demurely a step behind him. Before all this, Scott was never so aware of the difference standing a few inches forward can make. It's staggering how settled it makes him feel now that he knows how to recognize it. It's not just his love for Derek or his need to have Derek beside him, as he's believed for months.
It's this bond. It's just as strong as the love and connection of being Pack, but it's different. More personal. Something he only shares with Derek.
Just as before, Alpha Ortega notices immediately upon entering Derek's home. Her head tilts, the only sign of surprise that Scott can trace in her expression. Her Betas are less impassive, outright staring or looking on curiously as they take their seats. But no one seems to dare comment.
It's relentlessly satisfying.
"Alpha Ortega," he greets, somehow managing to keep his petty glee at bay for the moment. "It's an honor to have you back in our territory."
"Alpha McCall," she returns with a slow nod. Her eyes are calculating, but she doesn't ask the question that Scott can clearly see is on the tip of her tongue. "My Pack and I owe you an apology, it would seem. August?"
Her son looks like he's swallowed something particularly sour, but he bows his head in deference all the same. "My sincerest apologies, Alpha McCall," he says stiffly. "My words crossed a line, and obviously I misunderstood the situation."
Scott nearly stops himself from narrowing his eyes at the man. "It's not me you should be apologizing to," he answers, voice chilly. There's a touch at his arm, a gentle attempt to dissuade Scott without speaking up, without contradicting his decree as Alpha. And yes, Derek seems to have much more practice with this kind of politicking as a Beta than he ever did as an Alpha. But this isn't something Scott can let go, not now, and especially not after their disastrous first attempt at this meeting.
"Of… of course. Apologies to you as well, Alpha-Mate Hale."
Derek merely waves the other man's apology way, motioning for him to take his seat again.
"Derek Hale is my Intended," Scott declares into the silence. "We're to complete our bond when our courtship's complete." His face heats, a mutinous reaction that he hopes isn't visible. "I've been informed that our courtship hasn't been exactly traditional. But how he and I go about our relationship is our business and no one else's. And even if he wasn't my Intended, he should still be shown all the respect that a member of the Delgado-Hale Pack deserves."
Derek goes motionless at his side. Scott tries not to look at him, not to peer over in search of the approval he so desperately hopes is there. This… isn't exactly how he wanted to make this announcement, true. He'd have much rather discussed it with Derek first. But proclaiming it here leaves no question about Derek's place in his Pack.
Across from him, Alpha Ortega's brows raise. "Delgado?"
"My mother's maiden name," he explains. "My father never let her make it my maternal name. Not even after they divorced. But now I can do it myself… and connect my Pack to a name that I'm proud to have, and to share with my mother." Scott risks a glance at Derek, only to have his throat close tight for an instant as their eyes meet. His boyfriend is watching him with wounded eyes, like Scott's announcement has shaken him to the core. And, by the sound of his fluttering heart, Scott realizes he probably has. "The… The other surname should be obvious," he finishes with what he hopes is a soothing grin.
For the first time since, Alpha Ortega looks at him with something akin to approval. "Shall I call you Alpha Delgado from now on?"
It sounds so much better than Scott ever imagined. "Yes, please."
-7-
The rest of the meeting runs smoothly, without the flared tempers and snarling commands of their last encounter. Watching August tiptoe around Derek is gratifying, bordering on gleeful. Derek slips right into the roles of advisor and keeper of the Pack house with breathtaking grace, offering them a modest meal and the use of the guest houses on their land, an offer that Alpha Ortega graciously accepts. He's uninterrupted by misunderstanding or snide words this time. And while he doesn't lord it over them, there's no missing the small, pleased little smirk whenever he asserts his place as Scott's right hand.
Not just his right hand, his mate. A role Derek has been trying to live up to all along, laboring in silence while Scott was oblivious to the whole thing.
He and Derek always come back to this, it seems - this utter failure to communicate and to instead suffer in silence.
They'll need to work on that.
Beatriz Ortega breaks from the group as they're readying to leave, pulling Derek aside. Scott watches from across the room, curious and, admittedly, a little worried. The other Alpha's eyes meet his over Derek's shoulder - she's making no effort to hide what she's doing.
"Are you happy?" she asks Derek softly.
"Yes," he replies without hesitation. "Happier than I've been in a long, long time." His heartbeat is sure and steady if Scott ever had even the slightest doubt. The easy confidence in his words make Scott's chest feel so full.
There's an inelegant snort from the ever silent Ortega vanguard, and Scott realizes that he's grinning. Like a lovestruck fool.
(He is one. He is not ashamed.)
"You don't need to worry about me," Derek informs Alpha Ortega.
"No, I suppose I don't," she concedes with a sigh. "Ach, young people. I suppose I've grown too old to understand young love."
Once they're alone again, Derek barely gives him a moment to collect himself. "Delgado-Hale Pack?" he asks, turning to him with a soft, teasing smirk. It's equal parts touched and devious and all too knowing for Scott's liking.
He smiles back bashfully. "Sorry for springing that on you."
"Don't be sorry. Is that really… what you want?" Derek wanders closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "For our Pack to be called that?"
It's a loaded question if there ever was one. "Definitely," Scott says, with just as much conviction as Derek had when answering Alpha Ortega's question. "I've wanted to change my name for a while. And… well…" His face heats, and he has trouble meeting Derek's eyes this time. The man is watching him, not judging, just waiting. Listening. "I know how important your family is to you. How much you care about your family's legacy and this territory. And they deserve to be remembered. Even if, you know, you and I weren't a thing, I'd still want to keep their name attached to us."
"Yeah?" Derek murmurs.
"Yeah. I was, um, trying to think of a way to tell you for Valentine's. But I couldn't come up with a way to say it without sounding… lame. And then we did the whole thing with the moonflowers and that was so, so much better and I guess I… forgot?" Scott shifts from foot-to-foot, reaching out to take Derek's hand. "You are kind of distracting," he tries to joke.
If anything, though, Derek only seems amused by this. "So, even if you didn't propose to me… you'd still have proposed to me?" he teases affectionately.
"I… oh."
"Yeah. Oh." Derek leans into his space, kisses him soft and sweet. "Scott Delgado McCall, I love you. But we're going to have to work on your communication."
Of all the-
Scott huffs at him. "Jerk."
End. Walk on, Traveler of Worlds.