Hello everybody, I would like to say the story that I publish are not written by me.

My account only give a stage for stories I read and thought it would be more comfortable to read them hear at fanfiction.

The story is called:The Road Less Traveled

By:gryvon

From: Archive Of Our Own (or for short: ao3)

Isaac mass-texts them about a group of four wights at the cemetery. Stiles hops in his Jeep without even thinking about it. He nearly beats the others there. Nearly. The instant he puts the Jeep into park, Derek's there, his eyes red and his expression angry.

"What are you doing here?" Derek growls.

Stiles flails and almost gets tangled in his seatbelt. "I came to help."

"Go home."

Stiles catches movement behind Derek. His eyes go wide. "Behind you."

One of the wights takes a swing at Derek, narrowly avoiding scratching the Jeep to hell. Stiles unbuckles his seatbelt and scrambles out the other side. Of course he comes face to face with another wight and has to duck to avoid a swing.

He doesn't even think about it. The fire's there before he even realizes it. He lifts his hand, palm facing out towards the wight and it's engulfed in flames. He can hear Derek taking out his aggression on wight that attacked him. The other two wights run toward Stiles, being chased in his direction by Isaac and Erica. The wolves are too far behind to get to the wights before the wights get to him.

He does the spell again, taking both at once. Isaac jumps backward with an audible yelp while Erica just crows with excitement.

"What the hell?"

Stiles realizes the flaw in his plan when he turns to face Derek and sways on his feet. "Tada?"

"You did that?"

He should feel insulted by Derek's tone but right now he just feels dizzy. "Yep. Can you drive me home? I think I'm going to pass out now."

True to his word, he does.

He wakes, not in his bed, but on Derek's couch. There are voices arguing around him, but the words cut off as he sits up with a groan. Erica flops down where his head had been. Hers was one of the voices he heard arguing. He can tell that just from the frown on her face and her crossed arms.

"You okay?" Scott asks.

Stiles waves a hand. "Fine." He can't help the groan as he swings his legs around to sit properly. His head is pounding. "Just a headache. And some magic fatigue."

"Magic fatigue?" Derek bites the words out like they're made of poison. Stiles can feel him looming without looking up. Right now he's too busy pressing his pounding head into his hands. "What the hell?"

He moves one hand to wave it in a weak imitation of jazz hands. "Tada. I can do magic. Besides the protection runes, that is." Erica is his new favorite. She's rubbing the back of his head and neck and while it doesn't do much for the headache, it at least feels good and helps him relax slightly.

"Since when?" Derek sounds furious.

He winces. In retrospect, he probably should have told them sooner.

He risks a glance up and yep, that's Derek's furious face. "Since very recently." Derek's frown deepens and Stiles keeps talking. Talking always helps. Usually. Sometimes. "It was just little things. I made a pencil float. I've been working on lighting candles. I got one to spark a bit the other day, but I've never... That was the first time I did anything that big. I didn't even know I could do that, it was just there, and then after it was like all the energy was sucked out of me. Hence the passing out."

"Dude, that sounds awesome. I wish I'd seen it." Scott is now his second favorite.

Stiles manages a small smile over the throbbing pain. "Maybe next time."

"There won't be a next time." Predictable Derek.

Stiles glares. "Dude. I kicked ass. In case you missed it, which I know you didn't, I immolated three of those things."

"Accidentally. Without training or practice. And then passed out."

"Again, first time. I don't have the stamina built up yet, but it'll get better. Besides, the fact that there were that many should be a big, neon warning sign. This is only going to get worse. You need my magic."

Derek's angry face lightens minutely, shifting to heavily-veiled concern. "Explain."

Stiles sighs. He wishes he had his laptop. "We've seen the basic two forms—the gjenganger or wight and the weiderganger or draugar. If the pattern continues, we're probably going to see a nachzehrer next and those things are nasty. Think vampire that can suck your life force with its breath. They're created from accidental deaths or people who committed suicide and to kill them you have to shove a coin in their mouth—yes, a coin—before chopping off their head. The coin is actually the harder part, since it immobilizes them, so the head choppy part is no biggie. If allowed to run loose, they can cause a magical plague. So, bad news."

Erica whistles. "These undead are not playing around."

"Whatever necromancer is raising them definitely isn't. I'll ask my coven if they know anyone with that kind of power."

"Your what?" Derek's voice is all growly again. Yep, definitely should have mentioned the whole magic thing sooner.

"My coven," he says slowly. Scott's eyes are huge. Isaac looks fascinated while Boyd just looks like normal Boyd. "I joined one. They've been helping me with my magic. They're nice people. We meet and have tea on Thursdays. The leader, Cassandra, runs that teeny bopper occult shop on Fifth."

Derek puts a hand on his face. "Did it ever occur to you that one of them might be the necromancer?"

He pauses and goes through each of the coven in turn. "Yeah, not possible. None of them have that air. They're hippies and tree-hugging pagans. Besides, I've felt... I guess it's kind of like the pack bond, but temporary." For some reason, that statement only makes Derek angrier. "They're safe. I know them, on the deepest mystical level I can. Necromancy leaves a shadow and none of them have it. I haven't met Sherry yet, but seriously, a necromancer named Sherry? Not likely."

"Fine," Derek sighs. "Anything else you'd like to tell us?"

Erica grins and nudges him in the side. He shakes his head and ducks slightly to hide his sudden blush. "Nope, nothing."

"Fine. Come on. I'm driving you home."

"Okay." It doesn't even occur to him to argue. He probably freaked them all out with the passing out thing, more so than the magic thing. Derek deserves a little mother hen time.

The ride home is awkwardly tense. Derek turns the radio on low, the music a bare murmur as they drive. Thankfully it's not too far from the loft to Stiles's house. His dad's car isn't in the driveway when Derek pulls into Stiles's usual parking spot. Derek throws the Jeep into park and gets out, apparently intent on seeing Stiles all the way to the door. He doesn't bother to ask how Derek is getting home. The answer is simple—werewolf.

"Thanks," Stiles says awkwardly. He means more than just driving him home and not taking Stiles's head off.

Derek grunts. He unlocks the door for Stiles, hands him his keys, and then presses Stiles against the doorframe with a fierce kiss. Derek moves so sudden and certain, like they do this all the time. Stiles flails with his hands waving in the air around them before opening his mouth into the kiss and settling his hands tentatively on Derek's hips.

When Derek pulls back, the doorframe is the only thing keeping Stiles upright.

"For the record," Derek says, "you're not hopeless."

"Nope," Stiles agrees dumbly. He'll agree with anything Derek says right now. "Definitely not."

Derek grins as he walks away into the dark. Stiles stays for far too long watching him go before sliding off the doorframe and inside, locking the door behind him.

He texts Erica first thing in the morning, telling her about the kiss. She doesn't respond back, but it's early on Saturday morning so she's probably either asleep or cuddling with Boyd.

He heads to Cassandra's shop, grabbing drive-thru breakfast on the way since his dad isn't up yet for Stiles to bother cooking. She's there, like Stiles knew she would be. She runs the shop mostly by herself with Lind filling in as needed. He waits until the preteen buying a love spell kit leaves before leaning on the counter.

"Can we talk?"

She smiles. "Of course."

"What do you know about necromancers?"

Her smile instantly inverts. "That's not the kind of magic anyone should be dealing with. It's dark. You could lose your soul doing it."

He holds up his hands. "Not me. I'm not that dumb. Someone else is. Know anyone who might fit the bill?"

She shakes her head. "I don't associate with the type." Her frown deepens. "You've seen something?"

He nods. "Regular night of the living dead last night. Been going on for a few weeks as far as I can tell. Whoever it is, they're getting stronger."

"Sherry's ex was fascinated with the stuff, but he left town." She grabs a business card and writes Sherry's full name and number on the back of the card. "You can try giving her a call. I haven't seen her in a while, but that's not unusual. She travels a lot for her job."

He takes the card. "Thanks."

He turns to go, but she stops him. "Stiles." She pulls a thin book out from under the counter. It looks like a journal, though not quite like the two spellbooks he has at home. "A friend of mine found this. I thought it might be useful to you."

He flips to the first page and his jaw hits the floor. It's a book on werewolves and associated magic. "How'd you know?"

"The pack bond, even on mortals, leaves a distinct mark. The others don't know, but I've seen that mark before."

He nods. "Deaton."

Her smile is back. "And others."

He takes the book. "Thanks. How much?"

"On the house. Coven discount."

He grins. "Thanks. I owe you one. If you ever need my help, or that of my sometimes-furry friends, just give me a call."

He can't wait to get home and tear into the book.

His phone explodes with texts from Erica before he even reaches his Jeep.

John is awake when Stiles gets home. He looks at Stiles over his coffee. "Out late last night?"

"Busted." Stiles grins. It's not like the truth is going to get him in trouble this time. "Disturbance at the cemetery. All taken care of."

"That explains the calls I got. Know anything about someone setting off fireworks."

Stiles's grin fades. "Yeah. About that. That was me." He turns and points at a decorative candle on the wall. "See that." He snaps his fingers, mostly for effect, but it's also useful as a focal point. The candle flickers to life, as easy as breathing. It's like the sudden explosion of magic last night leveled him up. The minor tricks he'd been struggling with are just that, minor. He snuffs it out after a second. "I may have been learning magic."

John sighs but doesn't look angry or disappointed, just bemused. "When I suggested you learn self-defense, I didn't mean this."

Stiles shrugs. "It's more useful. And I'm going to start up one of the other classes soon. My leg's feeling up to one of the lighter courses. Probably gonna save the martial arts until next year though." He pulls the card Cassandra gave him out of his pocket. "So, speaking of, I may have joined a coven—a group of magic users, nothing dark. Less Practical Magic, more knitting circle minus the knitting." John snorts and rolls his eyes but doesn't comment. "Mostly tea and shop talk, really. One of them might know something about what happened last night but she hasn't been seen in a while and she's not answering her phone." He slides the card across the table. "Do you think you can look into it for me?"

His dad pockets the card. "Sure thing." He shoots Stiles a stern look. "Next time you join a coven or start learning magic or the like, you tell me first, okay. No more secrets."

"No more secrets," Stiles promises. He hesitates. "So I should probably tell you that Derek kissed me."

"He what!?" John almost spills his coffee as he fumbles with the mug.

"Last night." Stiles holds up his hand at his dad's look. "Don't worry. It was the first time. Nothing inappropriate. No bad touching. But, yeah, you were right, Derek likes me."

John sighs. He rubs and hand over his face. "You really don't do news half-assed, do you? Well, I can't say I'm surprised, since we already talked about this. Just remember, keep it PG and no sex until you're eighteen. I mean that."

Stiles can feel his face go red. He almost falls off his stool. "Yeah. I don't think you have to worry about that. Considering the pace we've been going, glaciers move faster than me and Derek."

"Keep it that way."

"Yes, sir."

At least eighteen is only a few months away.

Derek answers the door with a frown. He takes one look at Stiles and then turns, leaving the door open behind him.

"Hey," Stiles says. "Can we talk?" He closes the door behind him and looks around the loft, searching for Isaac.

"It seems we already are."

"Haha. Seriously." Derek turns to stare at him. "Is Isaac home?"

"No."

"Cool." Stiles fidgets with the hem of his shirt. He wants to move closer, into Derek's hemisphere, but he's not sure of his welcome. "That makes this slightly less awkward. Sooo, about last night..."

"Stiles..." A look of regret crosses Derek's face and Stiles just can't.

"No." He cuts in before Derek can speak. "If you're thinking of letting me down gently just... don't. You kissed me. FYI, I'm totally down with that. We can do more of that. All you want. Especially with the tongue. The tongue was good. So good. More of that, if you want."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Are you done?"

"I reserve the right for further verbal angst."

Derek steps closer, finally, and it's all Stiles can do not to sway into him. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Verbal diarrhea isn't the sexiest term."

"Agreed."

Stiles flops down onto the couch. "So, is this the part where you let me down?"

Derek settles onto the couch next to him. It reminds him of the day Danny was over. "Do you want me to let you down?"

Stiles's eyes go wide. "Of course not! Did you miss the message? I'm kinda into you in a major way."

"I'm kinda into you." Derek leans closer.

Their lips brush and it's just as good as the first time. Derek keeps going, pushing into Stiles's space until Stiles is pressed against the arm rest, being held up mostly by Derek's arms around him. He moans into the kiss and shifts, twisting his body so that his legs are up on the couch. Derek gets with it to, moving between Stiles's legs and pulling Stiles down until they're lying on the couch, bodies flush.

Derek rolls his hips and it sends a wave of warmth through Stiles. He pulls his lips away. "Wait. Stop."

Derek leans back with a frown. He starts to pull away completely but Stiles grabs at him, getting a fistful of Derek's Henley but at least it stops him.

Stiles sits up, his legs still around Derek but with less groin touchy. "No. It's not... You didn't do anything wrong. You did things very right. Extremely right. It's just..." He waves a hand at himself, blushing terribly. "Virgin. I'd like... can we go slow?"

The tension in Derek's demeanor relaxes and he nods. "Yeah. Of course. Sorry."

"Don't be." Stiles squeezes one of Derek's hands. "I want... you know. Totally all for that. I'm just not, well, not ready, you know?"

Derek nods. A bit of the grin from last night is back and he squeezes Stiles's hand. "Yeah. Slow is fine."

Stiles breaths a sigh of relief. "Good, because I'm not eighteen for four months and my dad may have implied he'd shoot you if we did anything age inappropriate before then."

Derek huffs a laugh and gives Stiles a 'bring it' look.

"Don't even," Stiles says with grin. "May I remind you that my dad knows about werewolves now, especially the whole wolfsbane allergy thing? I wouldn't put it past him to get a stock of special bullets from the Argents."

Derek's smug look fades.

"Yeah, sorry." Stiles rearranges them so that he's sitting in Derek's lap. Still intimate but less groin touchy to set him off. "Now, I believe we were in the middle of something. I vote for more kissing."

There is more kissing. Stiles can totally get used to kissing.

Actions