Scott's been calling non-stop for the last 3 days. Stiles doesn't answer, so he tries Derek. Derek answers once, responding with only two grunts then telling him the pack is gone and "will be back when we get back," before hanging up.
Stiles finds himself a little surprised, and a little proud this morning though. He's standing next to Jackson out back, helping him gut the fish he caught, when Jackson groans, frustrated with the barrage of chimes from his cellphone.
"Jesus, McCall," he says, before shutting his phone off then cursing himself for getting fish guts all over it.
Stiles laughs until Jackson chucks a fish head at him.
Derek comes outside a few minutes later to break up the disgusting battle they've begun of throwing severed fish parts at one another.
Isaac records the whole thing on his own phone as Claudia cracks up laughing.
He means to tell Derek she's homesick. That she misses her life in the future, her brother and sister, her friends, and her pack, but Stiles' own selfishness reigns over him and he can't.
He knows at this rate he'll never let her and DJ leave.
If he could.
So he decided to get the most out what he has left, and prepare himself for the wreck he'll become when they're gone.
Fresh air. Fresh ocean air crawls into his nose. A rushing noise like blood rising fills Derek's ears. His back is stiff. He's lying on something hard, but malleable; coarse as he digs his elbow into it and it moves, his joint sinking.
Cold water jumps at his bare feet and his eyes blink open!
The beach. Shit.
It's dawn. There's still a blue tint to the sky as the sun makes a meager attempt to peek through it, streaking the horizon with shades of peach, blush and gold.
He'd stop to appreciate it if he weren't so acutely aware of being both naked and tired. Thankfully, no one sees him sprint back toward the beach house.
He stumbles in through the backdoor like he spent all night drinking. His head is throbbing, body aching.
He turns on the coffee machine, rubbing his weary eyes.
The sound of footfalls down the steps and smell of pine and birch, golden poppy, blackberries, spring water and talc waft toward him.
Stiles.
"Mermaids," he blurts out.
"What," Derek yawns.
"Mermaids," Stiles says, like its Derek's fault for not reading his jumbled mind. "That's why you've been sleep walking on the beach at night."
"It's not mermaids, Stiles," he says, grabbing the giant beach towel Boyd left on a stool, and wrapping it around his waist.
Stiles disappears for a minute. The coffee machine beeps and Derek pours himself a mug. He takes a seat at the island when Stiles reappears with his laptop and sits down beside him.
"I've been doing research—"
"Naturally."
"Everything you've been experiencing is the result of an interaction with a mermaid. Dammit! I wish I had the bestiary with me. Anyway—"
"It's not a mermaid, Stiles."
"Anyway," Stiles starts, ignoring his boyfriend, "the sleepwalking, headaches like a hangover, you waking up closer and closer to the water's edge for the last three mornings— it's a siren, a mermaid, calling you toward the ocean. Sirens—"
"Sirens are beautiful women who lured sailors to their deaths with an enchanting song, causing them to crash their ship along the rocks of the coastline. I know what sirens are, Stiles. I'm not a sailor and it's not a siren."
"You don't have to be a sailor, smart-ass." Stiles shows Derek all the open tabs and windows on his lap of the research he's done. "Mermaids are supernatural creatures, and mermaid sirens are supernatural creatures that maintain their powers and abilities by killing humans with your aforementioned description, or killing other supernatural creatures and absorbing their power, their energy. And what better supe baddie to steal powers from than a big, strapping, Alpha werewolf?"
"That would mean a weak siren is using the last bit of her powers to enchant me in hopes of gaining hers back at a 100%."
"Exactly! And what would make a siren weak you ask?"
"I didn't."
"Environment and human oceanic development. Mermaids are sea creatures. Most stay deep within the ocean, but sirens are typically found closer to shore and coastlines where humans are. They need to be close in order to kill us and steal our 'lifeforce' that will sustain them. They also stay close in order to blend in to do that, but with climate change affecting our water and threatening oceanic life it's become harder for them to carry on living. Not to mention, ship ports are far more populated and dangerous now than they were hundreds of years ago. Ports are where naval shipyards dock their vessels, meaning big fucking government property-owned ships make it a little hard to shift from fish to human and climb up the docks without anyone noticing."
"Once again, it's not a mermaid."
"However, beachfront property is a lot easier to blend into the mix of, and it's rife with humans for you— if you were a mermaid— to suck all our energy out of in order to maintain yours. You might even catch yourself a werewolf, or a five, if say a whole pack decided to vacay together at the beach. And less we forget all the mysterious drowning deaths that've occurred in the area over the last three summers. All the victims were male. Which is a bit sexist if you ask me, but whatever."
"Stiles. I appreciate all this, but listen to me carefully now: It. Is. Not. Mermaids. Understand?"
Stiles stares at him, looking deep into the complex expression plastered on Derek's face. "If it's not mermaids then what is it?"
"I'm just… It's just…" He shakes his head, dismissing the whole conversation.
"You can talk to me, Derek." His voice soft and understanding.
Technically, he can, yes. But emotional strife makes it difficult to even express his hesitance in wishing to express…his hesitance.
"I don't want to pressure you into sharing anything with me you're not comfortable with sharing, but if you'd like to, I just want you to know I'm not asking for much. Just start slow, with something small," Stiles tells him.
Derek's amazed that he's never seen it so clearly before. He knows he's attracted to Stiles. In love with him. And until recently, he's realized that they're mates, too. Yet, he's never really taken a closer look at who Stiles is to him exactly. He's never really thought about what it means to have him as his.
Until this very minute.
Stiles completes him. In all the big, grand and corny ways two people complete one another, and in all the idiosyncratic, deeper ways, too.
He thought maybe they were rushing into this, not really thinking about what it all means, and just hurrying along a timeline they've both apparently wanted for awhile now.
DJ and Claudia feel like added pressure to forge ahead sometimes. They feel like approval, confirmation, that being together would be good. That it's their destiny and sizing it now just speeds things along. They're supposed to happen. They're supposed to be an 'us'.
But right now Stiles is looking at him with worried, honey-brown eyes, his bottom lip hugged between his teeth, waiting for Derek to…something. Anything.
For the past 3 weeks he's being thinking they might be moving too fast. When really they're going at just the right pace. He's taking things slow, at Stiles' level, when it comes to what they do in bed, and Stiles is sitting beside him now, telling the werewolf that he doesn't have to confess his deepest fears and the stringent guilt that coats his insides like broken shards of glass. But he's ready to listen when Derek is ready to talk.
He'll wait. Stiles will try for patience, which Derek is well aware goes well pass difficult for the human; it's not one of his many virtues.
He should say something though. Stiles went through the trouble of researching for him, concerned about his current bout of sleepwalking and migraines. If it's not mermaids, he should at least tell his boy what's actually plaguing him.
"…I've been thinking…a lot…about my family."
"I get that. They must be etched into the walls here."
"Yeah," Derek nods. "They are."
"…It's still hard for me to go into my dad's room sometimes. My mom's vanity is still there. It's empty, with all her stuff in a box somewhere in the attic, but… She used to sit at it in the morning, putting on her make up for work, and I'd sit on the bed and we'd go over my homework again before school. Then when we'd come home, I'd sit on the bed while she took all her make up off and tell her about my day."
"…The first thing my dad taught me how to cook was spaghetti. In this kitchen," Derek tells him. The smile on his face at the memory is immediate. "The first time Laura ever heal a broken bone was here, too. We were jumping on the bed and she slipped right off and landed horribly on her arm. She didn't shed a single tear. Just waited for her arm to heal then went right back to jumping on the bed with me."
Stiles reaches over and squeezes Derek's hand.
"I dream about them. A lot. And every night we've been here so far… I thought I heard my mom calling me last night. It's not mermaids, Stiles. Even though I wish it were."
Derek stands and walks to the sink, dumping out the rest of his coffee.
"Derek—"
"I'm going to go for a run." He doesn't mean to be abrupt and cut Stiles off, but he's starting to get that nauseous feeling he has when he remembers his family, and why they aren't here anymore. He opens the back door to grab his running shoes off the porch— "What the hell…?"
"What?" Stiles rounds the island, crossing the room toward Derek.
At their feet, on the other side of the backdoor, are two pieces of jewelry, each one gleaming and bright.
"Mermaid," Stiles concludes. "Yesterday it was a chrome hubcap and a ship's bell. The day before, a bunch of quarters, and the day before that it was a fucking pot filled with silverware!"
Mermaids like brilliant, sparkly objects. They're attracted to them. they give them as gifts to their lovers. And their prey.
Stiles picks up the objects at their feet. "A wedding band and a Rolex this time?! This is not you klepto-ing stuff in your sleep. You are being courted by a mermaid, sir."
"Shit."
So much for a peaceful vacation.
»»»
They pow-wow with the rest of the pack on what to do about the mermaid attempting to lure Derek to his death.
From what Stiles finds via Google, and what Derek already knows about mermaids, it's hard to distinguish them from humans when on dry land. They don't carry a particular smell like actual humans, but there's nothing significant about their scent that could help in separating them from everyone else.
Even if there was, they can't exactly storm up and down the beach, sniffing strangers, now can they?
And they don't have the bestiary, so they have no clue as to how to destroy her if they did manage to locate her.
Exhausting all their other options for a plan of attack, they revert back to Derek's original idea of using himself as bait…which Stiles hates, but has to live with, seeing as how there really is no other way to go about finding out who the sea creature is, and how to dispose of her.
Whoever she is, she seems to target Derek during late night hours, and when the beach is devoid of the throngs of people that normally crowd it during the day. The only thing they can do apparently is wait until Derek's sleepwalking again.
»»»
Stiles is building a massive sandcastle with Isaac, arguing over the moat, when Pearl appears, jogging up to Derek as he sunbathes, bouncing her perky breasts.
"Hey you," she smiles.
Derek lifts the dark Ray Bans on his face, squinting at the sun in his eyes, trying to make out the half-naked form hovering over him. "Um, hi. Uh, Pearl?"
"Yup. Want to take a break from tanning to help me kick some volleyball ass," she smiles, tossing the volleyball in her hands into the air.
"Um…" Derek glances at Stiles. Who's staring right at them.
Stiles sighs, but nods his okay. He has to trust Derek and stop letting his insecurities stir up his jealousies.
Derek's my boyfriend, not hers. I know this. He loves me. He'd never hurt me.
Derek shrugs. "Yeah. Sure."
"Me, too," Claudia jumps up from her beach towel. She tears off her cover up, revealing a skimpy suit underneath that Erica helped her pick out in town.
Jackson sits up, tossing his phone aside. "I'll play."
"Great," Pearl says. She makes her way further down the sand toward a volleyball net with a waiting group of twentysomethings standing by it with a cooler of beer.
Derek follows with Jackson beside him. Claudia gives Stiles a sly wink before catching up to them.
He has to be mature and understanding…but no one said he couldn't have spies.
That's my girl, he thinks proudly as he watches Claudia come between her father and Pearl when the sexy redhead gets a little too close.
»»»
Stiles. Is. Pissed. Like royally pissed.
Derek can smell it wafting off him like smoke from ash. And given his typical association with that smell, the last thing he wants to do is take in anymore of it over dinner.
The whole table is quiet. Just the awkward sound of forks and knives scraping against plates as everyone stares at their food, poorly pretending their Alphas aren't wordlessly fighting, and the burning, angry scent hovering over them is just the grill.
Derek can't take this anymore. That smell is getting to him, and the scowl on Stiles' face could cut through metal. He opens his mouth, ready to speak and ask his betas to go for a long walk— when Stiles throws his utensils down.
Stiles throws his utensils down onto his plate with a loud clank. "Can I talk to you please?" He doesn't wait for a response, breaking from the table and storming into the house.
"Good luck," DJ and Claudia whisper to Derek. The betas nod.
He's going to need it.
Derek pushes back from the table and follows Stiles in the house.
They head upstairs to the master bedroom. Stiles slams the door behind them.
"Stiles—"
"I am not mad at you."
"Really now," Derek frowns, not buying it.
"I'm not. I'm mad at that fire breathing slut!"
Stiles was being mature, and understanding, like he's supposed to be. He even went out of his way to invite Pearl over for dinner tonight (as what he thought would merely be a polite gesture). She declined, already having plans for the evening, but said she could stay for a board game when Isaac innocently mentioned to her that they planned on returning to the beach house to play Pictionary.
Pearl maneuvered her way onto Derek's team, which initially didn't bother Stiles, seeing as how he was preoccupied in beating him rather than playing with him.
Isaac was Stiles' partner this time, and they were a pretty good team. Not as good as the team Stiles and DJ made, but they were tied for second place with Claudia and Jackson and that's all that mattered to the human's competitive streak.
Stiles was far into the game to notice the little touches, flirty smiles, and inch-by-inch closeness Pearl pushed onto Derek. So when she and Derek won the first round, Derek knew his boyfriend was nothing if not shocked by her grabbing Derek's face and planting a big, lipstick-stained kiss on his mouth!
The entire room fell silent like a monastery as Derek leap off the couch and away from her with his hands up like he was being arrested, staring at Stiles!
Pearl looked uncomfortable at the awed faces staring back at her…
She made a play for the Alpha. In front of the Alpha-mate and his children. In front of his whole pack. The sin of all sins. Their wolves were growling and snarling at her, but their human side's were nearly catatonic.
Boyd was the first to speak, suggesting to her that she "should leave, as quickly as you fucking can."
She did; swiftly and quietly.
Stiles stood abruptly and announced he was going to start dinner and hurried into the kitchen.
Derek ran upstairs to shower and get the offensive taste/smell of Pearl off of him. He stayed there, in their room, until Claudia called him down for dinner.
"I knew it wasn't me! I knew I wasn't overreacting to that slore!"
"'Slore'," Derek asks.
"It's a portmanteau of the words 'slut' and 'whore'," Stiles tells him as he paces the floor, fist clenched at his sides.
Derek tries with everything in him not to snicker. He doesn't know what's funnier: the word, or Stiles taking the time to explain its definition.
"I told her you were seeing someone but she just goes for it anyway! Who does that?!"
"Apparently, slores do," Derek deadpans.
"Exactly!"
He really, really wants to laugh.
"I mean, what did she do? Assume you're girlfriend isn't here so it's okay? And that's another thing! Her rampant homophobia is disgusting! I never gave her a pronoun! She doesn't know if who you're seeing is male or female or dragon! What if you and Jackson were a thing? She'd have felt mighty fucking stupid then!"
"I wouldn't call it 'rampant homophobia' so much as a 'programming of convention'. Like most of the world."
"That was an awful lot of words for 'disrespectful thot'."
"'Thot'?"
"It's an acronym."
"For?"
"That Hoe Over There," Stiles says offhandedly.
The dam breaks. He can't help it. Derek explodes into laughter. Hunched over and turning beet red, guffawing in between spurts of hyperventilated breaths.
Stiles is nothing but angry scowls as he tries to storm out, but Derek catches him around the waist.
"Let go of me before I knee you where I know it'll hurt for days," Stiles threatens.
"I'm not laughing at you," Derek says, composing himself.
"Really now," Stiles says, repeating Derek's sarcasm.
"I'm not. It's… Your jealousy is adorable."
"I'm not jealous! She kissed you! I was jealous at the gross flirting, but then that bitch followed through and now I'm fucking livid!"
"I know." Derek pulls Stiles even tighter to him. He dips his head to Stiles' neck and places a gentle kiss where his neck and shoulder meet. "And it's adorable. Like I said," he whispers in Stiles' ear.
"We're not… We're not done with this…this conversation," Stiles tries to tell him as Derek licks a long stripe along his neck.
"She kissed me. I didn't kiss her back. She's gone and I want nothing to do with her. I'm here with you. What else is there to talk about?" Derek latches his mouth onto Stiles' pulsepoint, sucking a hard bruise there.
He considers Stiles' angry fit over when his head tilts back and he moans into the air.
Derek walks them to the bed.
He undresses Stiles, piece by piece, slowly, setting it all aside in a neat pile on the floor.
Stiles stands naked before him, hands twitching nervously. There's something about Stiles' anxiety with being stark naked in front of him that turns Derek on immensely. His wolf loves it. Loves seeing Stiles timid and shivering like prey… Maybe that's it.
"Lean over the bed," the werewolf says.
Stiles turns away from Derek and does as told. The bed is high enough off the floor for the tips of his toes to press into the carpet.
Derek sinks to his knees behind Stiles, eye level with his pale, round ass. He hasn't even touched him yet and Stiles is shuttering. His heartbeat is loud in his ears. But it's not nerves. It's excitement. Arousal.
Derek smoothes his hand along Stiles' spine. Stiles relaxes into the touch, taking calming breaths, tampering down his excitement. Stiles comes to quickly when he's overly excited, and Derek's in the mood for this to last as long as it can.
He kisses Stiles on every inch of skin of his lower half, body worshipping, then slowly drags his index finger south, slipping it between Stiles' cheeks, all the way down to his taint. He traces his path back where he started, stopping to spread the human wide and bury his face in his ass.
Stiles whimpers into the duvet as Derek licks him open, fisting the comforter in his hands, drooling, flushed bright pink, and making the most amazing noises into the paisley pattern.
Derek controls his shift, fighting his claws that want to come out and poke into mole-spotted skin, and fangs that want to dip into the fatty flesh of Stiles' pert little ass.
He lets Stiles touch himself, stroking his dick lazily to Derek eating him out in long licks and tongue swirls around his hole.
"God, you taste good," Derek growls against Stiles' skin, giving him a little bite on his left cheek. Stiles' skin is warm, with Derek's hand prints rose-colored against it where he holds him open.
He laps at Stiles' hole with the tip of his tongue a few times before sliding it in.
Stiles shakes and moans into the mattress, letting go of his cock to ball his hands into the comforter again. "Derek," he begs in a broken sob.
He's not going to last much longer, so Derek lets loose, fucking Stiles on his tongue, sloppy, wet and hungry.
Stiles grinds into the mattress. His dick leaks all over it as he screams Derek's name over and over again. He's moving all over the place. Derek wraps his arms around his thighs, holding Stiles in place, sweating profusely, and continuing to taste his boy.
"Oh, God! Fuck! DEREK!" Stiles comes all over his own stomach and the bedding as electricity cracks through him like lightening and his vision whites out…
»»»
Stiles comes to. Derek is naked, crowded over his body, and fingering him measurably, coaxing him out of his unconsciousness.
"Hey, there."
"Hey," he says, dream-like but compliant.
Derek kisses him. Soft, chaste kisses on his lips that tingle and make his dick hard again.
"Derek?"
"Hm," the werewolf responds, lips traveling to Stiles' neck.
"…I want you to."
Derek stops, pulling slick fingers from him, and lifts his head, looking right into Stiles' eyes. "Are… Are you sure?"
Stiles nods.
"I need to hear you say it."
"Yes. I'm sure. I want you to." Stiles knows Derek's listening to his heartbeat and taking in the smell perfuming off of him at his response. He's telling the truth. He wants Derek to. He's wanted Derek to for a while, for a hundred different reasons. None bigger than the fact that he loves him. And Stiles wants nothing more than to lose his virginity to the man he loves.
"Stiles—"
"I love you. This isn't about anything but that. I mean, we've been working our way up to this for over a week now, which I know isn't a long time, but I feel like we've been waiting for each other for a while. We finally have each other, and I don't want to wait any longer. I'm nervous, but I'm not scared anymore. I just want to give myself to you…completely. Is that dumb?"
"No," Derek tells him in a near-whisper.
"Was it really…girly?"
"Being honest isn't girly."
"When you said we were going to your family's beach house, I kind of hoped we'd do it here. I didn't plan anything. I just thought it'd be nice. Here, with the ocean and everything."
Derek leans down and kisses him again. "It is nice."
"I brought condoms," he says nervously. "I know werewolves don't carry diseases, but I brought them anyway, in case. Like if you wanted to use them or something."
"Do you want me to?"
Stiles shrugs. "Up to you."
"Stiles. If you're not going to give me definitive answers about what I ask you…"
"No. I don't want you to use them, but since I do kind of have the ability to get pregnant, I think you should," Stiles says, trying to sound less wishy-washy in his decision.
"I think that's a good call."
Derek sits up, letting Stiles crawl from under him to rummage through his bag for prophylactics. He grabs one, returning to the bed, and hands it to Derek. It's a magnum. Derek's pretty big; long and thick.
Derek lies on his back and tears open the condom wrapper. Stiles grabs the bottle of lube off the nightstand. He watches Derek roll the condom down his erection.
"I want you on top," Derek tells him.
Stiles nods. Derek wants him to set the pace so that he's comfortable. If he were on his back, or stomach, or all fours the position could feel awkward and make it difficult to take him. If he's in control then he'd be more at ease and less anxious.
Stiles straddles Derek. The Alpha's hands smoothly come up his sides. "You're…beautiful."
"I was just thinking that about you." Stiles flips the cap on the lube and squeezes a few drops on his fingers. He tosses the bottle onto the nightstand and slicks Derek's cock.
"I should open you up more."
"No. I'm ready."
"You sure?"
"Just talk me through it."
"Don't rush. Go how you want to."
Stiles leans down toward Derek. Their faces close. Derek steals a kiss, making Stiles smile.
He grips Derek's cock, lining it with his anus.
"Breathe."
Stiles nods, taking a deep breath. Derek's arms come up, holding him.
Stiles pushes down on the head of Derek's dick. He feels the tight pressure of it breach into him. Red rings glow around Derek's pupils making Stiles' breath catch.
"You okay?"
Stiles nods again.
"Don't rush. Go slow."
"Okay."
His arms come around Derek. They're hugging with Stiles on top.
Stiles slides down another inch, taking more of Derek into him. Derek moans and Stiles catches a glimpse of fangs in his mouth. "Are you going to shift?"
"Yeah. When I'm close. Sorry."
"Don't be," Stiles smirks. He'd be lying if he said he hasn't thought about being in bed with Derek, turning him on so fervently his wolf comes out. He really does have an attraction to danger and equates it with sex like Claudia said. But that's an insight for another time. For now he'll bask in his ability to make his werewolf boyfriend lose control.
He breaks from Derek's hold, sitting up, and sinks down completely on Derek's cock.
"Fuck," Derek murmurs, his hands gripping tight to Stiles' waist. "You okay," he asks after a breath.
"Yes. You feel…really good."
"Yeah?"
There's still that tight pressure, and he hasn't adjusted fully to feel of him yet, but for the most part, Derek inside him satisfies something within. Something that goes beyond sexual. It's something warm within his chest that spreads to the tips of his fingers and toes.
"Yeah, but I don't… I don't know how…"
"However you want. Whatever's good for you."
Stiles hears the strained desperation in Derek's voice. He's fighting hard to be a good boyfriend and be patient, resisting the urge to flip them over and fuck Stiles stupid.
God, I want that.
But not this time. Not his first time. Derek's in the lead for "boyfriend of the year" with just how lasting and considerate and selfless he's being right now. But Stiles knows if he doesn't do something, doesn't move soon, Derek will snap and his wolf will take over.
Alright. You've done your research. Good research, too. Just get a pace going. An easy pace that's secure for you and Derek's pleasure will follow right along… I hope.
Stiles places his hands flat on Derek's pecs; fingers in the nest of dark hair there. He slowly lifts up, dragging off Derek's cock until only the tip is inside him, then slides back down with Derek nearly balls deep, filling him again.
He does it again. This time taking notice of delicious groan coming from his partner.
His eyes slide close as he works himself up and down slowly on Derek's cock.
Derek's hands move to his ass, squeezing hard, helping Stiles along as he gains a decent pace, and building a thrust.
Derek surges up just when Stiles comes down, and the rhythm of the quick move makes Stiles dig his nails into Derek's chest.
Derek moves with him, doing it again. And again. And again. Until they're in a groove.
They're both panting, eyes open staring deep into each other's. Derek's eyes are shifted, his fangs dropped, and claws pricking the sensitive skin on Stiles' buttocks.
Stiles runs his thumb along one of Derek's fangs, making him growl low and enticed.
He speeds up his pace, going a little faster. Derek matches his enthusiasm and they work into a greedy cadence.
The awkwardness has faded and Stiles can only feel. Feel how good Derek is inside him. Feel how good they fit together. Feel the harmony they work into, racing one another to the peak of their excitement.
He wants this to last. Forever. But that's nothing but wishful thinking. He's almost there. Body taunt and rigid as Derek takes over, pumping into him. Stiles tilts his head to the ceiling, eyes shut tight, letting Derek drive into him, hard and deep now.
He hits Stiles' prostate with a strong thrust, and without warning Stiles comes, screaming into the warm, musky air, and spurting ribbons of cum onto Derek's stomach.
He's weak, limp. He wants to fold and crash on his Alpha's chest, but Derek sits up, holding him in his large arms, pushing his stiff cock into him still.
Stiles pulls his head from Derek's shoulder. He's shifted now. Beta form. His hands sweep through Derek's hair as he stares into blood-red eyes and licks into the werewolf's mouth; his tongue poked by a sharp fang.
Derek flips them over. Stiles on his back now. His grips the headboard and thrust. Hard. Once. The bed bangs against the wall.
He does it again.
And again.
And again.
Stiles wraps his legs around the small of Derek's back, crossing at the ankle. Derek's clawed hand cups his head, tilting it slightly so Stiles is forced to look at him.
"Come," Stiles tells him. "Come. I'm okay."
Derek rocks into Stiles ardent and dirty.
Stiles is throbbing, slick and sensitive. He feels ever drag of Derek's cock as the werewolf braces himself on the headboard. He runs his hands down his sweaty chest and sticky abs. His hands are moist. He wraps one around his cock, bringing it to half-mast.
Derek hits this prostate again. Pushing against it angrily. Stiles melds into the bedding, biting his bottom lip red.
Words escape Derek. He's all snarls and growls as he slams into Stiles, causing a shocked moan to bellow from his lips.
Derek's head lifts, baring his neck, and he howls. Actually howls as he fills the condom between them.
Stiles shouts, too, coming a third time, all over his own hand.
Derek's spent. Stiles pulls him close. They lay in each other's embrace with Derek still inside him, panting for breath, sweating and aching. Content. Happy.
"I love you," Derek whispers into wet, brown hair.
Stiles smiles. "I love you, too, sourwolf."
»»»
Stiles waddles into the kitchen. He's a little sore, and his thighs burn with bruises he knows he'll see in the morning.
The house is dark and quiet. He doesn't know when the betas got back, but he's sure they took off when the smell of sex permeated the house. Not to mention, he and Derek weren't exactly quiet. They never really are, and Stiles doesn't feel the least bit guilty about it.
He's having sex. With Derek Hale. Shying away from that fact is the last thing he'll ever do.
He opens the fridge and takes out the pitcher of sweet tea he made before dinner and pours himself a glass. The cool drink barely kisses his lips when the backdoor opens, slow and hushed.
Stiles readies to scream and wake the whole house when he recognizes the crouching figure tip toe inside.
He flicks on the light above the stove— DJ.
"Shit."
"'Shit' is right, because you are in a mess of it, buddy," Stiles snaps. "It's 1:30 in the morning. Where in the hell are you coming from?"
"A party…with some college kids."
"Are you joking?"
"Oh, come on, tata—"
"I thought you were in bed asleep, and apparently, that's exactly what you wanted me to think! Is this something you do often?! Sneak in and out like a thief in the night?!"
"No! I…I was hanging out with this girl—"
"Oh, my God!"
"I'm not in love with her or anything. She's cute and was willing to put out and I was just trying to get laid. That's all."
"'That's all', he says…"
"I'm just being honest."
"Honest is not sneaking in the house in the middle of the night! What if something would have happened to you?! Were you not there for the pack meeting?! Did you miss the part about a mermaid out there trying to kill your father, DJ?! But no, apparently that's not as important as getting your dick wet!"
"You're one to talk," DJ mumbles.
"I don't need werewolf hearing to know what you said."
"I'm sorry," he says sincerely and shame-faced.
"It's too late for that. Just go to bed, Deej," he says with an allure of parental disappointment in his tone.
DJ picks up on it, if his slumped shoulders and frown are anything to go by. He heads upstairs.
Stiles suddenly feels the urge to call his dad and apologize for every lie he's ever told.
»»»
"Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac. She's always singing that song. At least it's a good song. She only plays it this loud when she's in a really good mood.
But I can't hear my own thoughts. Jesus, mom, I've been reading the same sentence over and over again. We're werewolves; we hear just fine without the volume turned all the way up…
Mom…. Mom… Mom…! Mom…!
Why can't she hear me?
*Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining*
*Players only love you when they're playing'*
*They say women, they will come and they will go…*
Dammit. I have to go ask her to turn it down.
Am I the only one bothered by how loud the radio is? Laura's got to be annoyed. She hates Fleetwood Mac.
Maybe she's out. Could've sworn I saw her in the living room with Uncle Peter though…
Where the hell is she? She was… She was in the kitchen, cleaning the oven… Laura's MIA, too? And Uncle Peter.
The radio's off. Where the hell is that music coming from…?
Mom…! Mom…?!
"Derek! Derek, can you hear me? Derek wake up! Derek."
Howl. A howl. A wounded, hurt howl that stabs right into his chest. He practically feels it, a blossoming pain in his heart, making his eyes snap open. Stiles, hovering over him, looking terrified and relieved at the same time.
"Oh, thank—"
Stiles is flung backward, landing hard in the sand!
Pearl. With a mouth full of pointed, razor-sharp teeth and wide, yellow fish-like eyes, hissing violently in his face! Derek reacts, and wraps a clawed hand around her neck, choking her!
His eyes find Stiles, knocked unconscious on the shore. Waves rushing his body.
There's noise. Chaos! His betas: Boyd, Erica, Isaac, and his daughter, fight each take on a hideous sea hag, draped in seaweed and slime! Jackson is knocked out cold against a log. DJ… DJ is crouched over on his knees. Derek can smell the blood. See it paint his chest and the hand clutching him there as he fights to heal himself!
The howl. His son was the howl that woke him.
Pearl thrashes in his hold, trying to claw his eyes out, catching him on the cheek with her bloody talons.
"You touched my son," he snarls, eyes burning crimson red at her. Derek grabs hold of the back of her head with his free hand, yanking on her stringy, smelly hair. She digs her nails into his forearm but he could care less. He can't even feel it, too consumed with rage.
His fangs drop and he sinks them into her throat, tearing out flesh and green goop that oozes from her wound until her head lolls, nearly tore off her limp body.
Screams! Screams so loud, like Argents sonic emitters, piercing his ears! Derek collapses, covering his ears. He opens his eyes: they're all in the sand, trying to shield themselves from the noise!
Its the hags, wailing and crying salty tears for their fallen leader at Derek's feet!
Stiles, conscious now, and up on his feet, rushes toward Derek!
"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!"
The human, appearing unfazed by the horrid sound, grabs something off to the side of Derek. A baseball bat.
"Stiles!"
Stiles charges toward the first hag in his sights and bashes her skull in!
Two other ones charge toward him! He knocks one off balance, making her stumble on trembling legs! The other two reach out for him as he turns around— Derek jumps to his feet, ready to rescue, but DJ is there, tearing out their throats with vicious claws!
Stiles pauses for the briefest moment before grabbing their son and pulling him into his arms, gripping him tightly. Less out of thankfulness, and more out of relief. DJ holds him just as fiercely.
Derek helps Claudia up and pulls her against his chest, then looks her over for injuries.
Boyd and Isaac approach. The last sea witch in their grasp, thrashing wildly and hissing. Erica helps Jackson wobble over.
"You okay," Boyd asks Derek.
Derek nods. "Jackson?"
Jackson shrugs. He'll live. Just a bump on the head.
"You remember anything that happened, big guy," Stiles asks.
"…My mom. She was singing to the radio…but I guess not."
"Tata realized you were gone. I tracked your scent and we found you almost at the water's edge. Pearl was there—"
"Kissing you," Stiles says bitterly.
"Stealing your powers," Boyd corrects.
"Through kissing," Stiles adds. "Like it's The fucking Little Mermaid or something."
"Next thing we know these ugly sea bitches pop up out of the goddamn water," Jackson complains.
"We attacked while Stiles tried to wake you up," Isaac tells him.
"I heard you," Derek says to his son.
"I'm okay," DJ assures him. "She slashed me pretty deep. It was taking longer to heal but I'm okay, dad."
Derek snatches him close anyway, burying his nose in his dark hair, smelling the top of his head and nuzzling him.
"What do we do with her," Boyd asks of the siren in his grasp.
"We should kill her," Derek says. "But we'll take her to Alpha Lilly instead. It's his territory. He's bound to hear about this and I don't want him angry about bloodshed we spilled on his land. Plus, I think he'd like actual proof he has a mermaid problem."
"She's weak. Not as strong as Pearl. Can she survive us taking her there? How do we make sure she doesn't go ape-shit and kill us on the drive up," Isaac asks.
"It's not a far drive from what I remember. And the longer she's out of water the weaker she is. We can take her if she decides to be bold."
Boyd and Isaac drag the siren from the beach toward the house. Erica is right behind them with Jackson using her as a crutch.
Stiles hugs DJ one more time.
"I'm sorry, tata," his son apologizes. Stiles just squeezes him a little harder before letting him go, headed for the house.
"How'd we do," Claudia asks.
"You're alive. That's all I care about," Derek tells her.
She snorts. "You're proud. So proud it's gross. Dandelions," she says with a smirk. She follows her brother off the beach.
"Dandelions," Stiles asks.
"Pride. It smells like dandelions."
Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck, hugging the ever-loving fuck out of him. He smells like bitter almonds and grapefruit. Fear, and anxiety.
"The next time I tell you I don't like a woman that hits on you, just trust me that she's a crazy bitch. Or a goddamn mermaid."
Derek can't help it. He laughs, lips pressed against Stiles' temple. "I promise. Stiles Seal of Approval always needed."
»»»
Derek and Boyd shove the sea witch into the backseat of the camaro with them. Isaac climbs into the driver's seat.
Derek is right. She was already weak, having less power than Pearl, unable to handle the surface as well as her leader. She slumps against Boyd who looks disgusted with her doing so, breathing heavy like a fish on dry land. Which she is actually. As evident by the slowly growing scales on her human legs. They're shimmering like sequins, like gasoline on pavement.
Stiles absently wonders if she's only this hideous out of water. If she's stunning with a long, gorgeous tail when in water.
"Stiles, get in."
"What?"
"Get in. You're coming with us."
"But—"
"Erica."
From inside the house, Erica saunters out with the come-hither swag she's adopted since being turned. "Boss?"
"Stiles is coming with us. Make sure Jackson is healing okay, and DJ and Claudia are alright."
"I have to babysit," she whines.
"We'll be back in an hour," Derek tells her. He nods at Stiles, still surprised Derek even suggested he tag along.
Stiles climbs into the car excitedly. This is pack business. Official pack business. He's never met another Alpha, let alone been in the midst of a werewolf meeting.
"Make sure DJ and Claudia don't leave the house, and they help you get rid of the bodies on the beach," Stiles tells Erica.
"How?"
"Burn them," Derek tells her.
She groans like the put-upon teenager she is.
"I'll tell you what? Next time a school of mermaids tries to kill Derek, and harvest his powers in order to not lose their own, you can come to the werewolf conference about what to do with a dying sea hag."
Erica frowns, rolling her eyes, but she nods nonetheless, following orders like she should.
»»»
Alpha Lilly is a big, burly man as Stiles suspected. The type of man that wears only Wrangler jeans and flannel shirts, like he's the paper towel guy. He's stocky and intimidating, with a thick graying beard, and doesn't take too kindly to being woken up from his sleep at nearly four in the morning.
But when he smiles, it's warm and friendly. Like a guy you'd kill to have a beer with.
He gives Derek one of those smiles when the two of them appear on his doorstep.
He recognizes Derek immediately, smiling wide, drawing him in close for a back slapping hug. He looks deep into Derek's face commenting on how much he resembles his mother, Talia Hale.
Derek smiles faintly, looking everywhere but at the Alpha, who's smart enough to say no more on the subject.
Stiles never realized that the Hale pack tragedy might be common knowledge amongst werewolves and local packs. Why not? Almost an entire pack was murdered by a psychotic hunter. How could lycan circles not gossip about it?
Derek introduces Stiles and quick enough Alpha Lilly responds with: "He smells. Like you," giving Derek a sly look and making the human blush.
Derek changes subjects to the situation at hand of the merwoman slowly dying in the backseat of his car.
Alpha Lilly steps from his doorway and toward the camaro. He peeks inside to sure enough find Boyd pinching his nose as the decaying sea witch leans against him, searching for breath. The whole car stinks like the inside of a whale. Isaac threw up the moment he pulled into the driveway.
The Alpha had no idea merfolk have inhabited his territory, believing most had gone nearly a decade ago, but thanks them, nonetheless, for "handling it." He calls his emissary and No. 2 beta over to help dispose of the merwoman's rotting, fishy body.
Stiles almost feels bad for her. He knows they can't let her go, allowing her to return to the ocean, but she's just a creature like they are, the wolves, and was merely doing what sirens like her do, trying to survive. It's harder for her who can't blend in as well as they can. In addition to her home being destroyed by human involvement.
Alpha Lilly's emissary, and no. 2 beta, his son, Shadow, arrive minutes later.
His emissary drives a forest green mini cooper. She's all bubbly smiles and flowing blonde hair. She looks more like a cheerleader than a wolf pack's druid.
Shadow, however, screams born werewolf. He's tall, lean muscle, deep, soulful eyes, and long, dark hair pulled into a manbun with a matching beard.
Jesus. It's like they all read the same fashion magazine. Neckz-n-Throatz. The werewolf periodical for brooding Lycans, Stiles muses to himself.
Derek and Alpha Lilly explain everything to his son and emissary.
Shadow seems a reasonable, level-headed guy that knows how to listen and trust his father. His emissary, Kimber, on the other hand, asks more questions than obeys. She isn't suspicious, just curious. A personality trait Stiles can appreciate.
Derek answers any and all her questions.
She suddenly turns to Stiles, "How'd you subdue her? White noise or seaweed venom ?"
"Um…baseball bat?"
Alpha Lilly chuckles. "Well, that'll do it."
"You want us to take her now, dad," Shadow asks.
Alpha Lilly nods. Boyd and Shadow pulls the siren from the car. Isaac stands back, looking queasy again.
"A cove."
"What," Alpha Lilly asks Stiles.
"A cove. Is there a cove around here somewhere," Stiles asks. "A cave cove perhaps, away from human development."
"Stiles." Derek apparently can already see where this is going.
"I'm just saying her whole underwater coven or whatever is dead. She's the last one."
"You don't know that."
"We could release back into the ocean at a cove, away from people, and contained…somewhat. She's already weak by regular mermaid standards," he argues. "She needed Pearl to go out and fin for her in order to stay alive in the first place."
"Exactly. Letting her go would be pointless because she'll die anyway without sustaining her power, which she needs humans and other supernatural creatures to do."
"And also happens to be my point. Let her die in peace where she belongs. At least."
"Stiles…" Derek sighs, looking into pleading brown eyes. "That's not my call to make. This isn't my territory."
Stiles turns to Alpha Lilly, hunching his shoulders. Well…?
"This one's a handful, isn't he?"
"You don't know the half of it," Derek groans.
Stiles elbows him in the ribs at the comment. He's not sure if that's some sign of disrespect and he's created this big faux pas, but he doesn't care. He's on pins and needles for Alpha Lilly's answer.
The Alpha turns to his emissary for her opinion.
Kimber looks intently at the siren. Her legs are nearly covered in scales. "I don't know how 'contained' a cave cove is, but I think we can handle it of she decides to act on her own. Or with help. And in that case I assume our friends from Beacon Hills will gladly come to our aid," she says looking at Derek and Stiles.
Derek nods. "Of course."
"Sure," Stiles backs up.
"Shadow," the Alpha calls on his son.
"I think we can handle some mermaids," Shadow agrees.
"Okay. Take her to a cove then. I think there's one about two miles north of here, along the coast. The secluded beach, not the nude beach," Alpha Lilly says.
"Nude beach? Why weren't we at that beach," Stiles whispers.
"Because no one sees you naked but me," Derek whispers back.
Stiles' cheeks pink at his boyfriend's possessiveness.
"There's a tarp in the garage. Take my truck, Shadow."
Shadow nods. He and Boyd carry the merwoman toward the garage. He stops, however, in front of Derek. "…I remember how beautiful your sister was. I'm sorry for your loss."
Stiles remembers Derek saying something about Laura Hale dating Shadow when they were kids after he caught sight of the hickey on DJ's neck.
"Thanks," Derek says lowly.
Shadow and Boyd make their way to the garage.
"It's too late to talk alliances, but you look like you could use a ginger ale," the Alpha says to Isaac. "And my wife and daughters are up, watching us from the window." He turns and waves to a dark-haired woman standing at the second floor window with a cluster of young girls around her. She waves back. "Come on in."
They file toward the house.
"That's a pretty big spark," Kimber says to Stiles.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your spark. I see it. It's pretty big. Don't let the fact that it's called a 'spark' fool you. Yours is pretty wild, and blue. Like mine."
Deaton mentioned he had a spark, but he never really understood much of anything the evasive veterinarian usually says, so try to comprehend what exactly a 'spark' is was something he didn't really dwell on.
"You're rare, too. Most mates aren't emissaries."
Whoa. He may be a spark, whatever that entails, but he was definitely not an emissary. At least not presently. "Oh, I'm-I'm not the emiss—"
"You really should be marked, too," she says before disappearing into the house.
Derek shifts a nervous glance between Stiles and Alpha Lily before silently slipping into the house himself.
It's then that Stiles realizes that Derek didn't mark him. He didn't give Stiles a claiming bite when they had sex. He didn't declare Stiles as his.
»»»
They return to the beach house an hour later, exhausted and with the promise to come back to Alpha Lilly's home in a week in order to formally build an alliance between their packs.
From what Alpha Lilly and Kimber describe it sounds more like a barbecue than what Stiles anticipates as an official werewolf meeting. Regardless though, he's excited to come back to the shore for it.
During their late night tea and cake conversation, he, Derek, and Isaac make sure to avoid all discussions about DJ and Claudia. They don't lie but evaded a couple questions that would have stirred in the direct discussion of their kids. The last thing any of them want to do is to get caught in a lie. Especially after building trust with another pack. A large one at that.
Just living in the Alpha's home alone was he, his wife, Diane, and their 5 daughters. Shadow had his own place with his girlfriend, and Kimber lived nearby, too, with her 3 year old son and her mother. The Lilly pack was a 25 member pack, excluding the Alpha's eldest daughter, Josslyn, who was banished after secretly eloping with a hunter.
Stiles discovers some packs work with the hunters in their territories, and some have all together ignored them, and found any sort of interaction with them unacceptable. The Lilly pack is one such pack.
Alpha Lilly briefly mentions his oldest daughter being made Omega before changing the subject. It seems he's as fond of talking about her as Derek is about his own family.
So they stick to safe topics like pack business: their territories, members, summits and conferences. When the conversation veers toward a lycan summit Derek is expected to attend, Stiles lights up like a star.
The idea, the concept, of werewolf packs meeting up to discuss land, enemies, alliances, trade, ceremonies, and the like make Stiles itch with the desire to badger Derek in allowing him to come with him when he goes. On Halloween of all dates.
But he'll wait until they're alone. And naked. Which he thinks will make it harder for Derek to say no.
Boyd and Shadow arrive back at Alpha Lilly's house having left the sea witch basking in water near a cove close to where the Alpha described.
They shake hands and set a date and time for their talk next week. They're thanked again for their help with the sirens and head back to the beach house.
Erica did as asked and burned the bodies with DJ and Claudia's help, then waited up for them to get back. Jackson is asleep on the sofa in the TV room, and DJ and Claudia are asleep in their own rooms.
They rest of them crash into their beds, too, exhausted by the long night.
Stiles sleeps well until 11AM. Everyone is already up and out of the house except Derek, who's outside, cleaning his car, trying to get the fish smell out of it.
DJ apparently made breakfast and left a plate of scrambled eggs, Canadian bacon, and toast in the oven for Stiles. Stiles inhales it in front of the TV watching Judge Judy.
He checks his phone. He has 5 new voicemails from Scott, and one from his dad.
His dad simply wants to know what time he'll be back on Thursday. He text him that he'll be back about mid-afternoon and attaches a picture he took of the sunset on the beach yesterday.
He sighs heavily then checks his voicemails from Scott. The first is him asking Stiles where he is exactly and to come back. He says he told Deaton about what happened and he knows how to fix it.
Delete.
The second is simply Scott telling him to call him back.
Delete.
The third is a little more hostile and urgent and bitchy, seeing as how Scott's found out where he and the rest of the Hale pack are.
Delete.
The fourth one makes Stiles worry. Scott's panicky and bitching about wendigos and two dead bodies and how "its Derek's fucking territory! He should be here handling his own shit!"
The fifth and final one is passive-aggressive and whiny: "We got rid of the freaking wendigos. No thanks to Derek. Or you. Tell the Alpha he's welcome, and that me, Allison, her dad, and Deaton took care of it. No one's dead. We're fine. If you care."
STILES: I do care. I'm glad you guys are safe and took care of things. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help. Was in the middle of my own supernatural fight.
STILES: We'll be back on Thursday.
Later that night, Stiles tells Derek about Scott calling and the wendigos.
Derek looks panicked for a minute, as though he's a beat away from running all the way back to Beacon Hills.
It takes Stiles almost 2 hours to reassure him that Scott and everyone else are fine, the wendigos are gone, and the territory is safe.
Derek feels guilty and irresponsible that they left and Scott was forced to handle a scary situation without backup. "He's a strong wolf, but not a smart one. He could have seriously been hurt."
"I love you."
"What?"
"Do you want to know why? Oh, well, there's a million and one fucking reasons why I love you Derek Stephan Hale, but particularly in this moment, right now, I love you because my best friend has been a dick to you since being turned. He's been a really big dick since I screwed up a magic spell and caused our children to appear from the future." Stiles climbs off the bed and backs Derek into the armchair in the corner. He straddles him. "But despite all his dickish behavior, you still manage to care about what happens to him."
Stiles kisses him.
"I think that's really sweet…and very sexy."
Stiles takes the hem of Derek's soft, white Henley and tugs it off over his head.
"I am really glad he's okay. I'm also really glad there's no longer a pair of wendigos roaming around Beacon Hills."
His kisses along Derek's neck, feeling the warm skin on his lips.
"But Scott's been a bit selfish for a while now, and I think it might be my turn for a bit."
Derek moans when Stiles' hand drifts downward to his cock, nearly erect and strained in his jeans.
"Don't you think? I mean, we've got one more day in this beautiful beach house, shouldn't we take complete advantage of that?"
Stiles runs his hand between Derek's thighs, making his hips lift, searching for somewhere to put his leaking dick.
"Yes," Derek pants.
"Good. Me, too."
It's their last day at the beach house. They decide to make the most of it and spend all of it on the beach, from sun up to sun down.
At sunrise they gather at the docks and quietly watch it break the horizon.
Derek rents a boat and they take it out further into the water. Stiles make sandwiches and brings beer. They relax and play around in their own little world in between the girls sunbathing and Erica forcing all the boys to dance with her to the radio she brought along.
At some point, they're convinced skinny dipping is a good idea, but Derek immediately nixes that plan. When Stiles asks why, Derek quietly tells him he can smell Jackson…when he's looking at Claudia.
"I will fucking kill him," Stiles seethes.
"You don't have to, because there will be no skinny dipping. Besides, how comfortable are you with your kids seeing you naked?"
"Pfft. If they're fine, I'm fine," he bluffs.
"They're wolves. Nudity— anyone's nudity— is as dull as dishwater to them."
Stiles rolls his eyes, but knows Derek has a point. He doesn't want to see his kids nude, and he certainly does want them to see him nude.
They return the boat, only renting it for 4 hours, and head back to the beach.
Isaac and Claudia go for a swim. Derek and Boyd lounge in beach chairs, each with a book in their hands. Erica takes a nap under the huge umbrella she insisted Derek buy her, and DJ builds a sandcastle with a lonely little girl who asks for his help.
Stiles and Jackson somehow end up playing Frisbee with a group of high schoolers from the area. They invite them, and the rest of the pack, to a clambake later that night.
There's at least 50 people at the clambake, which they quickly realize is actually a family reunion and not just a party. The patriarch of the bunch insists they stay.
"Why not," Erica shrugs. "We were invited," she says, grabbing a lobster tail.
Derek's suspicious at first, given he smells at least two kitsunes and a werewolf amongst them, but simmers down a bit when an elderly woman approaches him and whispers: "Alpha Lilly said to make sure you enjoyed yourself," she says with a wink before calling to her grandchildren.
They stuff their faces, but avoid the alcohol. They have no clue as to if there's wolfsbane in it, but don't want to chance it. Also, driving back tomorrow, hungover in a hot car, does not sound like fun at all.
They say their 'goodbyes' and 'thank yous' when the party winds down.
Stiles, however, isn't done with their night, and grabs a bag of marshmallows, some chocolate, and a box of graham crackers from the kitchen.
Derek and Boyd build a fire for them to make s'mores.
They sit silently, staring at the fire and the visible stars in the sky, peacefully enjoying one another's company without the necessity of words.
It's so nice Stiles feels like crying.
He never thought he'd have this. Friends that feel like family.
Of course Scott is his friend. Beyond his friend; they're brothers, no matter who's wearing the asshole cap that day. He just assumed he was past hope. Past being liked.
He thought Scott was to be his one and only friend, and there was nothing wrong with that if it became true, but it didn't mean he was okay with going through life as being seen as annoying, pestering, and invisible. He especially didn't want to be seen that way romantically. A life like that is so lonely it's miserable, and pointless.
He's always been the type of person that needs other people. Not just as an audience to his ridiculousness at times, but to take care of, in hopes that they'll take care of him, too.
There's just always been something in him that makes being apart of this thing, a pack, feel right. Chiefly, with these guys. The Island of Misfit Werewolves. Complete with their own baggage and emotional traumas.
He belongs here amongst them.
He belongs with Derek.
"You okay," Derek whispers in his ear.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
Stiles presses his lips against Derek's. He's gotten pretty good at kissing he thinks, if evidence points to the way he can make Derek relax and moan into his mouth.
"I'm sure," he says, breaking their kiss.
Derek wraps the blanket around them a little tighter and places a gentle kiss on his temple. "You belong to me, Stilinski," he says into fine, walnut-color hair.
"I was just thinking the exact same thing."
The closer they get to Beacon Hills the quieter they become. They stop singing along to the radio, making lewd jokes about how mermaids could possibly have sex, and counting how many times they can make Boyd roll his eyes, which turns into a game of counting how many times they can make him smile.
They pass a road sign: Beacon Hills 30 mi, and suddenly the car draws silent.
Without really knowing why, Stiles turns the radio down, eventually clicking it off. He wonders if Derek, Jackson, Isaac, and Claudia are riding in deafening silence, too.
Their whimsical getaway has official come to an end, and the daunting reality of their actual dilemma is crashing down.
This morning, over an early breakfast, Stiles and Derek tell everyone Deaton is back from Boston and knows how to reverse the spell Stiles cast. The table falls quiet for a beat, then fake smiles abounded as they dig into their French toast talking of anything but the elephant in the room.
They pull up to Derek's house. No one makes a move to climb out of the car. Neither does Derek and the rest in the camaro.
"We don't have to go to Dr. Deaton's now, do we," DJ asks.
He shouldn't encourage it. He's already let this go on longer than he should have. He shouldn't procrastinate anymore than he already has. "…No," Stiles says. "We don't have to go now."
Stiles can practically feel Erica smiling, and notices Boyd's shoulders slump, relaxed.
They climb out of the car, grabbing their bags, but Stiles stays behind the wheel.
Derek approaches his window. "You going home?"
"For a little while. To see my dad before he has to go to work."
Derek nods. "Okay." He leans into the car and kisses him. "Come over later."
"I will."
Stiles turns the engine over and backs out of the driveway. He catches the worried look on Claudia's face as he turns toward the street. "I'll be back for dinner," he says, knowing she can hear him.
He watches her disappear into the house through the rearview mirror.
»»»
Stiles pulls into his driveway and sees him. Scott. Sitting on his front porch.
Stiles gets out of jeep, grabbing the BHHS lacrosse gym bag he used all week as a suitcase. "I don't want to fight, Scott," he tells him as he approaches the front door.
"Me neither."
"Good." Stiles throws his gym bag down and takes a seat beside him. "Wendigos, huh? What was that like?"
"Scary. Vicious, too, but not as bad as Jackson as the kanima."
"Glad Chris Argent helped."
"Me, too. But he kind of has to, you know? Still doesn't like me and Allison together but whatever."
"Exactly. Fuck him."
Scott laughs. "I guess."
They sit wordlessly for a minute, listening to the trees rustle in the breeze.
"This is the longest we've been mad at each other."
"Yup," Stiles agrees.
"I didn't like it. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too."
"…I keep having to apologize to you."
"Maybe you should consider stopping your 'shitty friend' campaign then," Stiles shrugs, teasing Scott.
Scott's known him long enough to get it's a joke… Sort of.
"I shouldn've ignored your calls. You were in danger and asking for my help. I would have known that if I bothered to stop being childish. I'm sorry. I'm glad you and Allison are okay. I'm glad Deaton knew how to help."
"…I called you because I was scared. I didn't know what to do and I needed my best friend here, who always thinks of a plan, to help me… And I called you because…because I wanted you to get Derek to help me… I needed him. I needed you both. And I was mad that you guys wouldn't help me. Then I remembered why. Then I remembered how you two asked for my help…and I wouldn't give it."
"Scott, I wasn't scared that I fucked up a spell. I was scared about the spell I fucked up. DJ and Claudia aren't from some other universe, some other dimension. They're apart of my future. A future I had no idea was capable. Every day I'm just trying to get through Harris' class and survive whatever monster wants to maul me in the woods, but then I find out that I live through it all to be a husband and a father and fucking Alpha-mate! With Derek no less! Derek who I thought hated me! That's big shit! That's big scary as fuck shit! That's what I needed help with."
Scott looks sheepishly at his shoes.
"Do you really think I can't research on my own? That I can't just wait for Deaton to get back and fix what I fucked up? You think I can't get Lydia to do some digging with me after a little carefully measured flattery? I can do all that. But what I wanted was my best friend to help me not lose my mind over it. Over the fact that I end up married to a guy I've kind of been crushing on for a while now. I wanted you to tell me that's okay, and you're still my friend."
"I am your friend, Stiles. I don't care if you like a guy, or a girl. I've kind of known you might be into guys for a while now though…"
"See?! I needed to know that!"
"…Sorry."
"…Apology accepted."
"Bro-shake?"
They push off the porch and easily slip into the goofy hi-five they've coordinated. Stiles laughs and pulls Scott in for a hug.
"Your dad's watching."
"Did he hear anything?"
"I don't think so. He's only been there since you accepted my apology."
"Good."
They break from their embrace.
"You're going to have to tell him, Stiles. About everything."
"I know. I am."
Scott looks a bit surprised. "Your heartbeat. It was… That wasn't a lie."
"No. It wasn't. I'm going to tell him. I have to. I hate lying to him."
"When are you going to tell him?"
"…After we take DJ and Claudia to Deaton."