Stiles lay in the hospital bed, staring at the bandages on his feet. He'd just gotten out of surgery that morning. It had not been an immediate diagnosis, but a slow and increasingly worse one. He'd spent days stuffing his face with Burger King and other terrible foods his father had brought him, trying to ignore how the pain in his feet was growing worse instead of getting better. His toes had only gotten darker too, until the doctor told him what would have to be done. It was over now, and Stiles lay in bed staring at what was left of his feet. Six and a half toes.
Just when he leaned forward to reach out and touch the bandages, someone appeared in the doorway. It was an older boy… or a young man... who looked lost and uncomfortable, and who took a moment before meeting his gaze. Stiles pulled his hand back, straightening up in bed. "Uh, hello?"
The boy shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. A grey scarf hung loosely around his neck, beads of moisture on it from recently melted snowflakes. "I was just looking for… my uncle. He uh… had back surgery. On his back."
"Back surgery on his back, huh?" Stiles repeated, not sure what this very attractive older guy was standing around at his door for.
He seemed to redden at Stiles' comment. "I mean, you're obviously not him," the boy said.
"I'm not your uncle, no."
"Right." Stiles thought he looked a little shifty, like he wasn't being honest but not for some terrible reason. The boy met his eye and Stiles raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Sorry," he said, taking another step in the door and looking at Stiles' bandages. "I'm Derek."
"Derek…? I'm Sterek. I mean, Stiles. I'm Stiles." Stiles cleared his throat, ignoring the heat in his face.
"Stiles," Derek said, as if he were tasting it on his tongue. "You're the kid from the middle school who was in the paper, right? The one who was lost in the woods. You were gone for fourteen hours, right?"
"Yeah," Stiles said, feeling a little embarrassed. He stared at his feet, peeking out where he'd pulled the blanket up.
Derek seemed to follow his gaze. "What happened," he said, but he didn't sound like he was curious as much as resigned.
"It's kind of gross," Stiles mumbled, not wanting to tell the weird, pretty stranger guy anything about his medical issues. But the stranger seemed to be hanging on his words, so Stiles continued. "I sort of lost my two pinky toes, and the fourth toe on the right. And the end of my left big toe."
The stranger named Derek looked pitiful right then; eyes wide like he had personally cut off Stiles' toes and was entirely to blame. "God," he said, "I'm so sorry."
"Well it's not your fault," Stiles chuckled. "I kind of feel guilty like… like I am more bummed out than I'm allowed to be. You know? Like the girl who got her arm bitten off by a shark, she deserved to be upset. But me? What's a toe or two, you know?" He looked down at his feet, a little sadly.
He watched Derek glance down at his own shoes, his expression hollow. Stiles thought he was, perhaps, five years older than he? He had to be out of High School, at least.
"So…" Stiles continued, crossing his arms. "You're looking for your uncle?"
Derek blinked with surprise, as if he'd forgotten all about his uncle. "Oh yeah, right. I... I guess I should look for him." He went to the door and stopped. "Maybe I'll see you around."
"Yeah," Stiles said, too hopeful. He cleared his throat and repeated, "yeah", but less enthusiastically. He hoped.
But he would not see Derek's face again for many years.
xxxx
Months passed and Derek did not appear again. Stiles recovered from the loss of a few of his little pigs. The event, at the very least, had helped him gain some notoriety at school. Not because of the toes, but the whole story of the Sheriff's son missing in the woods, and how he refused to tell anyone why he'd been discovered almost naked. His peers' interest was fleeting, but people knew his name now. People knew his name, and that was something.
Now that Stiles could walk alright and had recovered most of his balance, he found himself bike riding home from school and thinking about the wolf he'd seen that day in the snow. It almost felt dreamlike now, after so many people had told him it was a dream. His therapist believed that whatever creep had taken him to the woods and removed his clothes had transformed into a wolf in Stiles' poor traumatized brain, and that when he insisted that a wolf took his clothes, he was unable to face the truth.
But really, Stiles hadn't ever truly refused to explain what had happened. He'd told most everyone the truth, and they understandably did not believe him. Even Scott seemed uncomfortable when Stiles talked about the wolf, like he was afraid to agree or disagree.
"I'm going to look for the wolf again today," Stiles said, one day after school. He and Scott were playing Prop Hunt in Scott's bedroom.
Scott gave him that worried look that he hated. "It's pretty hot out though, maybe you should wait."
"Hot, oh God. A heat wave in California? Not heat, I'll never survive!" Stiles moved a lamp in the game, his expression unimpressed. "It's almost June, if you haven't noticed. It's not going to get any cooler, and I am determined to find this thing."
Scott watched him, helpless as Stiles stood up. "It's been like six months, Stiles. Maybe you should give it up."
"It's only been five," Stiles corrected. "Later, Scooter."
Stiles rode his bike up along the sidewalk since no one else was there, enjoying the warm breeze and the sunlight passing through the leaves on the trees. He rode along the edge of the woods until he'd passed the turn to his house. But he kept going, and soon he was riding down the turn that Christian Harris had taken him months ago. The first time he had looked, it had been difficult to spot without the snow. But eventually he'd found the unmarked road. He drove his bike along the dirt path and rode as far as the road took him and finally stopped, setting his bike aside.
Stiles looked around, sighing, and not really knowing what he was searching for. But no, he sort of knew. No, he definitely knew. Stiles walked along the path for a mile, which seemed far for a thirteen year old who mostly just stayed at home on his computer.
Standing in the woods, he turned around, listening to birds and the buzz of insects, and the rustling of leaves and his own disappointed sighs. But he wasn't going to let it go, and give it up the way he knew Scott wanted him to. He headed farther into the woods, deeper than he'd ventured before. He walked for an hour and stopped, because nothing looked familiar. And then a thought occurred to him, a stupid idea, but he did it anyway. He threw back his head and howled at the sky, and then laughed at himself.
xxxx
But the wolf heard it. From far away he heard the howl like a tickle in his pointed ear. He flicked his ear and lifted his head from the rabbit trail he'd been sniffing. That was a human howl, and a rather pathetic one, but how often did he hear humans howling in his woods? He glanced back down at the rabbit trail, and decided that the small game would not hold his interest enough to continue.
xxxx
Meanwhile, Stiles had wandered enough to find a small pond in a clearing, that was both beautiful and hauntingly familiar. He walked around the perimeter of the smallish body of water, which had a stream pouring into it at one end and pouring out the other. The place really was incredible, the more he looked around. Beams of light passed between the overhead branches of old trees, leaves scattering in the breeze and dropping into the clear water.
Stiles took off his shoes and stared down at his mangled feet, counting his toes like he usually did out of habit. Six and a half. They were healed, and he hoped they just looked silly and not totally repulsive. But he figured they probably did look awful to people who didn't see them every time they got out of the shower. Heck, he saw them every day and it still disturbed him sometimes.
Sighing, he slipped to the ground and sat on the moss, hand reaching out beside him to drag his fingers through the surface of the water. He was certain this was the pond he'd hit his head on those months ago.
A particularly loud rustle came from the bushes nearby, and Stiles sat up with a jolt. And there was the black wolf, standing there watching him freely, from only a few yards away. Stiles' heart jumped into his throat and he stood quickly, staggering back.
"Christ, you're…. still big."
The wolf watched him, eyes quizzical and far too intelligent for an animal.
"Uh," Stiles started, clearing his throat, "You're not going to change your mind this time and eat me, are you, fella?" His heart continued to thud in his chest, because the wolf was so damn big, bigger than he'd remembered, bigger than any wolf he'd seen on TV and even in the movies.
Stiles took a tentative step toward the wolf, and then another. He took a third step across the moss and the wolf backed up, ears falling flat on its head. "Hey, it's okay," Stiles said, reaching a hand out. The wolf was taller than him, he could see this now that they were so close. He had to look up to meet its blue gaze. He reached out again but the wolf backed away. And before he could take another step it turned and ran, disappearing into the woods.
xxxx
Stiles returned the next day, and waited for an hour, howling into the air and feeling like a fool when he tried three more times without answer. He went home after an hour or two, thoroughly disappointed.
The following day he tried again, and the day after as well. It rained for a few days and Stiles sat at home and played games with Scott, but the rain pattered on the windows and Stiles found himself distracted as he looked out at them and thought about the wolf.
So when the sun came out again, Stiles returned to the small pond. This time he was ready, and brought a whole lot of homework and study material for the upcoming finals. He stepped into the clearing and let out his usual silly howl before taking a seat in the moss and cracking the books. He did homework for thirty minutes and then an hour, and when it was all complete he studied, frustration itching at the back of his head.
When his ADHD finally made it literally impossible to focus or sit any longer, he started packing up his bags to leave. He turned to stand up and froze when he saw the wolf laying in the ferns a few yards behind him. And he wasn't sitting, he was lying there like somehow he'd managed to sneak up and sprawl out, and stay comfortable and silent without Stiles ever noticing.
"Jesus," Stiles said, catching his breath. He eased back to his spot near the water, watching the wolf watch him. His eyes narrowed. "You look… smug."
The wolf didn't respond, and almost seemed bored. Stiles thought and spoke again. "Were you there the last time? Or the time before? I hope not, because if you just let me wait around all that time for you for no reason, that was totally rude." The wolf was silent and unapologetic.
Stiles sighed and shifted around to get comfortable, and noticed when the wolf's head turned toward his feet. "Yeah they're weird, and very much thanks to you," Stiles said. He froze when the wolf stood up and came closer, towering over him where he sat. The wolf truly was the size of a large horse. It was like some kind of forest guardian, and Stiles' heart raced. Its massive wet nose brushed against the arch of his foot and he chuckled, quickly jerking his feet away. The wolf's whole body flinched, which was terrifying at its size, and both of them watched each other closely.
"That tickled," Stiles said, chuckling partly because of it, but mostly because he was intimidated by the creature standing over him. There was a silent moment before the wolf bent forward and licked his foot, and he laughed harder, pushing its nose away with his heel. "Quit it!"
It was amazing, unreal, crazy and ridiculous. The wolf's tail swung right and left, two lazy wags and a tilt of the head.
xxxx
Derek knew he was breaking the One Rule, standing there playing with the human kid. He was being /seen/, which was the first bad thing. But there was something special about Stiles, and it made Derek weak.
School let out for the summer, and Stiles returned to the clearing many times a week. Derek came as often as he could. Stiles was amusing to watch as he tried experimenting with Derek. He would tell Derek what days he wouldn't be visiting, but he would show up anyway. Was he testing Derek's ability to comprehend? Could be.
But Derek had his own job and responsibilities that involved walking upright, and so he could not be there as often as he liked. Eventually they silently worked out a schedule. It was all sorts of ridiculous, meeting this way, a massive wolf lounging around in the ferns instead of bloodying prey, supervising a kid as he did his summer reading, and listening to him babble about his friends and his father and his life in general. Still, Derek sort of loved it. He really, really sort of loved it.
xxxx
"If he's real, why don't you bring me there and show him to me?" Scott asked.
Stiles shook his head. "Dude, no. I can't! I just… I know it would break our trust, you know? If he saw you, he'd never come back. Hell, I once tried to take a picture of him on my phone, and he didn't come back for a week."
Scott gave him a meaningful look and Stiles rolled his eyes.
xxxx
It was edging on the end of July, and Stiles had quit the book in favor of laying sprawled on the moss, staring at the leaves above them. The wolf was spread on its side a few yards away.
"It's so hot," he said, a bead of sweat slipping from his hair down the back of his neck. The wolf huffed in response, breath blowing a nearby fern. Stiles' head tilted to the side, and he looked at the water. "Oh, screw it."
He stood up and pulled off his shirt, and began taking off his shoes. The wolf lifted it's head. Stiles looked at him. "Come on, Wolf, you're naked all of the time. And you saw me that first time in the snow, anyway. Get over it."
The wolf's ears fell back against it's head as Stiles undid his pants and took them off. There was something freeing about standing in his boxers in the woods. He was no survivalist, but this was good enough. He waded into the water, which was cool and lit by the sun ahead. He sighed. "Oh man, this is nice." The small pond was just deep enough in the center for him to sit, water line up to his shoulders. He sighed and glanced over at the wolf.
"You should be jealous," Stiles taunted. "It's totally nice in here, and I'm not wearing a fur coat like you are. I bet you're reeeally hot over there."
The wolf narrowed its eyes, if that were possible. No, it definitely was. Stiles had seen it before when he mouthed off. He grinned, stretching back against the mossy rock protruding from the water. He probably looked ridiculous, but hopefully he at least looked… refreshed.
It took a few minutes, but eventually the wolf was on all fours, sidling up to the water's edge. He sniffed it and lapped up some water, watching Stiles tentatively. He backed up and before Stiles knew it, he'd leapt into the shallow water. Stiles hollered as his face was doused, the clear water going brown as the wolf stirred it up.
"You big shit!" Stiles shouted, getting to his feet. The wolf wagged its tail, the customary two-swings. It's gleaming teeth showed as its tongue fell from its mouth. Stiles shoved the wolf's broad shoulder, and it turned, pushing his bare chest with its nose. Stiles leapt forward in his best impression of a football tackle, hitting the wolf like he was hitting a fur wall. He huffed and the wolf nudged his shoulder, pushing him off balance until he fell back on his ass in the water. "Damn it, you're such a big fatty!"
The wolf came forward and licked the side of his face, and Stiles laughed lightly, eyes wide. The wolf had not licked him since the first time months ago, and that had only been on his foot. They looked at one another curiously. It was a long, quiet moment before Stiles reached forward and took its muzzle in his hands. He leaned in and landed a kiss on his furry muzzle.
Stiles waited, and the wolf watched him. Half a minute passed and he sighed. "Damn it, well that eliminates my frog-prince theory. I was really rooting for that one." He patted the wolf's cheek and climbed out of the pond, leaving the beast staring at its reflection in the water.
xxxxx
* * * * * Four-ish Years Later * * * * *
Derek stood in a refrigerated room, cutting at a hanging piece of meat. Steam blew from his nose as he worked. He heard a bell ring from the store front, but ignored it. Laura would get it. But when he heard the bell ring again and then a third time, 'Laura would get it' turned to 'Laura should be getting that'. He huffed and wiped his bloody, gloved hands on his apron, and stalked out of the meat locker.
Hale Butchery was a small but successful family business in the town bordering Beacon Hills, and although most of his family had gone to college by his age, Derek had chosen to stay where he was. He was happy here, his life simple. Work, family, the hunt, and Stiles.
Today however, was not a good day. Today was supposed to be his afternoon off to spend with Stiles, but his mother was making him work late and the clock seemed to be moving at double time, making him later and later and later. And on top of that, Laura seemed to never be where he needed her. So his usually peaceful life was not quite so peaceful at the moment, and he bit back a growl as he stormed into the deli section.
He stopped short however, when he saw Stiles Stilinski standing on the other side of the glass. He was peering at the cuts of meat, scrutinizing them with his brows together. He looked up, warm brown eyes widening at the sight of Derek. Derek swallowed thickly and stepped forward.
"Can I get you something?"
"I… You look sort of familiar. Do I know you?"
Derek blinked, wondering if Stiles recognized him from the hospital. But it had been nearly five years, and since then he had been good about avoiding him in human-form. "I don't know you," Derek said bluntly, and Stiles' shoulders sunk a little. Derek could tell he was doubting himself, and hoped that he would let it go.
"Well, I'm looking for a cut of meat," Stiles said, looking back through the glass.
Derek was still amazed as he studied Stiles over the counter. He looked so much larger now that Derek was human. They were almost the same height now that Stiles was a senior at Beacon Hills High. Stiles was was broad-shouldered and lean from lacrosse, all wiry muscle and no bulk. His figure was barely visible now, though, under the baggy t-shirt and plaid.
Stiles quirked a brow at him and Derek stopped staring. "We sell a lot of cuts of meat. Do you have something in mind?"
"Well, I was looking for something that is extra, super good," Stiles said unhelpfully. "I want something big, with bones in it for chewing." Derek narrowed his eyes. He'd seen Stiles last week in the clearing, and Stiles had not mentioned anything involving meat. No family BBQ, no party. What was this? "I just need something really big," Stiles said.
"Well, you could get a rack of ribs," Derek suggested.
Stiles nodded. "Could I get like… the whole side of the cow?"
Derek laughed shortly. "What are you going to do with the whole side of a cow?"
Stiles seemed peeved to be questioned by the butcher who he did not know, but he said, "It's a gift for a friend. We've been friends for five years today, and he's... a big carnivore. I'm going to see him soon... well I'm late, actually. Anyway, I want to buy something great."
Derek stared, the cogs turning in his head. Stiles was here to buy him a gift? He felt his face heat up, but luckily Stiles was too annoyed to notice. He couldn't tell Stiles that he didn't have to do this, that it was ridiculous and too much and that Derek hunted for free, because right now they were strangers. "You might like this…" he said with a sigh, before disappearing into the back and returning with a large cut of beef. Stiles seemed to want to buy in bulk, and this was the least expensive per pound.
"This is a great cut," he lied, because as a wolf, beef was all pretty much the same to him and he didn't want Stiles wasting his money.
"That is not a great cut," a voice said from behind him, and he turned to see Laura standing there with her arms crossed. "We're going to grind that up for burger patties soon," she said.
"I... he said he wants a lot."
"But he said, 'extra special' meat. That there is 'regular' meat."
Derek stared shamefully at the cut of beef in his gloved hands.
"Go back to the locker and chop meat," she ordered impatiently, and he narrowed his eyes at her. He gave Stiles another glance. Stiles was studying the ceiling tiles and keeping out of it. He sulked off toward the fridge, but not before he heard Laura say, "Too much isolation. You can imagine why he's single."
xxxxx
Stiles parked his Jeep at the end of the dirt road. He lugged his heavy cooler down the long trail to the pond, where the wolf was waiting for him. He looked antsy, standing up rather than lying in his usual spot.
"Hey Wolf," Stiles said. In five years he had never been able to get him to respond to another name.
The wolf hurried over to greet him, sniffing his clothes and snuffling his hair until it was out of place. He scratched behind the wolf's thick ear as he set the cooler down.
"I've got something for you," Stiles said excitedly, opening the cooler. The wolf looked inside at the very large rack of gourmet ribs, the best that Stiles could find at the butcher shop.
He didn't go for it right away, and Stiles hadn't expected him to. He was not just a wild animal and did not respond the way animals did.
"Do you know what the occasion is for?" Stiles asked.
The wolf looked at him, head cocked to the side.
"Oh don't play dumb-wolf now, you know. You better know!"
The wolf watched him blankly, and Stiles came to know this as his poker face. He seemed to enjoy leaving Stiles hanging, such as right now. But eventually the wolf moved in and playfully nudged his shoulder, not unlike the way Scott would shove him after they'd shared a joke. Stiles grinned. "Isn't that amazing? Five years!"
Stiles dragged the cooler to the water's edge and sat like they were having a picnic. "You just go ahead and help yourself, I'm not a big raw meat connoisseur so I'll let you take it out."
The wolf snorted, giving Stiles a, 'you're pathetic,' look. But he sauntered over and lifted the meat in his jaws before sprawling out comfortably. Stiles watched with mild fascination as the enormous teeth worked a few ribs apart, scraping a white streak into the bone. Those jaws could easily break his arm if they tried.
The wolf gave him an uncomfortable sideways glance and Stiles looked away. "Sorry, I forgot you don't like me staring at you while you eat. Though I guess nobody likes that, huh?" The wolf grumbled in response.
Stiles kicked off his shoes and sunk his feet in the cool pond, counting his toes out of habit. The wolf heard him sigh and studied his expression. He dropped the rib and nudged Stiles' thigh with his nose.
"Oh I'm okay," Stiles responded to the wolf's curious look.
It huffed loudly and sat up, staring him down.
"I am!"
The wolf nudged his shoulder hard, almost pushing him sideways.
"Hey, okay okay!" Stiles cried, fruitlessly shoving the wolf back before he smoothed out his shirt. He blew air from his lips and picked at some of the earth, his eyes staying on the green moss. "This girl Malia at school asked me out. Prom is on its way, and I think she's planning to ask me to that too, if we hit it off."
They both looked out over the water. "I wish I knew what you were," Stiles said, and the lack of segway confused the wolf. He turned to look at Stiles, eyes wide in a bid for him to continue. "I know we ruled out the frog-prince theory ages ago. And 'werewolf' is out, since I've seen you during the full moon and you're perfectly fine, if not a little high strung."
The wolf's eyes shifted at that comment, but it didn't move either way to confirm or deny it.
"And then there's my 'curse' theory," Stiles continued. "It would make sense that you used to be a person, because you are so much like one. And nothing I do seems to surprise you. Somebody like you has experienced life outside of the woods. I can tell."
The wolf was confused and Stiles clarified. "Like when I talk about media, you clearly have preferences. For instance you nearly growled when I once mentioned Michael Vick. But you obviously think Clint Eastwood is the shit, which is in very good taste, by the way."
The wolf let out a sort-of-sigh, looking away with boredom to try and get Stiles back on track.
"Anyway," Stiles continued, "I just wish that I knew."
The wolf wanted to ask what all of this had to do with Stiles' prom and the girl who was interested in him, but that was the trouble with being a wolf. There was only so much he could say with a glance or a noise. Frustrated, he tried to ease the tension by nuzzling Stiles' side, but the human pulled away.
"Wolf, just don't," Stiles said, sounding uneasy. The wolf watched him questioningly. "This is why I can't get a date. Because I don't… want a date. I mean…" Stiles' face turned a little red. "I really wouldn't mind having sex before I turn into the 40 year old virgin High School Senior. But other than that, you... ugh how do I say this? You fulfill my... 'emotional needs'."
The wolf was fixated on him now, and Stiles could feel it without looking up at him.
"God that sounds like shit," Stiles said quickly, embarrassed. "I mean, why would I look for a girlfriend or a boyfriend when I'm never lonely? And I don't want to just hook up with someone either. So I'm doomed, and it's your fault."
The wolf whined something awful, a despairing, guttural noise. Stiles looked up at him, brows pulling together. "I'm sorry, hey, I didn't really mean it." Stiles' mouth opened when the wolf let out a low, frustrated growl. He watched the fur bristle on its back, and when he touched him the wolf flinched, backing away. The water splashed as Stiles pulled his feet out and stood. "Wolf, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just complaining. I didn't mean… Wolf, you didn't do anything!"
The wolf released a booming bark, a bellowing sound that made Stiles wince, hands covering his ears. The wolf barked again, snarling, and Stiles screamed at him. "God, Wolf, shut the hell up!" The wolf bore his teeth, backing up a step. "Quit acting like an asshole! Real wolves don't even bark, you know that?"
The wolf snorted angrily, blue eyes glancing off to the side.
"Why are you so pissed?"
Stiles received a growl in response, but he kept it up.
"Why, huh? I know you're smart, so write me a damn message in the mud. Bark in fucking Morse code! Something!"
The wolf was quiet now, staring at the ground.
"I just want to know what you want," Stiles said sadly. "I can't play charades with you anymore."
The wolf turned, heading off into the woods. Stiles was left in the clearing, glaring at the water's edge where lay the barely touched rack of ribs.
