A/N - JEFF DAVIS = GIFT, also owns it all, I just play with them, in ways he may never have intended

katieepretzel is awesome, and amazing, and this story would not be what it is without her

this chapter...well, hope you like it as much as I do

November, 2010

5:30 in the morning and the phone is ringing. Again. "Derek, if you're still coming to Thanksgiving with us, just know it's going to be so, so very awkward this year!" Scott said in an incredibly high-pitched half-scream.

"What the ever loving fuck, Scott? The sun hasn't risen yet, are you incapable of calling me when it's daylight? Also, Hello! It's a standard greeting when calling someone, fuckwit." Derek growled into his phone. Seriously, at least four times a week since Scott and Allison found out they were expecting, Scott had been calling at some ungodly hour.

"Ugly Breakfast! Allison said she'll make you Ugly Breakfast if you can come over right now and make me calm down!" Scott hung up. Derek looked at the screen of his phone for a minute processing - something about Thanksgiving dinner and Scott being awkward and Ugly Breakfast. So… that means that if he can manage to haul his ass out of bed and go to Scott's now, Allison will make him the scramble with the eggs, peppers, onions, potatoes, sausage, gravy and cheese. If she's offering up something that intensive to make with how bad the morning sickness has been, she must be desperate. Derek ran through his mental checklist of things to do before leaving the house: coffee, shower, dressed, grab bag of mints for Allison – she'd been using them to treat her morning sickness and Scott always forgot to buy her more, because you know, Scott. Derek has a stash of them in his kitchen now.

Getting the coffee pot set up and running was routine. The shower afterwards was as well. This meant thinking about Isaac who was more than likely in bed with Stiles right now, making the other man moan and writhe with those long fingers and that talented tongue. Totally thinking about Isaac, the man he couldn't have, and not Stiles, the man he didn't like, and therefore didn't want. Totally not thinking about the way Stiles would wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. Totally not wondering about how those lips would taste kissed to the point of being swollen and bruised. Not wondering about how Stiles would feel in the shower, water streaming down his chest, his abdomen. Not wondering about how his hair would feel, wet, under his palm, or the way his eyes would look as he stared up from his knees. No, definitely not thinking about that at all.

Derek perfunctorily washed himself, knowing the quicker the shower, the lesser the temptation. He can admit when he's thinking things he shouldn't, but he can also refuse to act on them. While he washed his hair, he thought about how Stiles is all talk, all the time. Derek knows it's the ADD, occasionally there's literally no filter for the other man, and that sometimes, Stiles is entirely incapable of shutting his brain down. Derek wants to know what it would take to quiet not only the mouth, but the mind. He knows that you can't talk if your mouth is full…hell, he daydreams about shutting that boy (man) up with his tongue, his fingers, his…but what would it take to actually quiet his brain, how much would it take, heaving and sweating and tasting…..to let him rest.

The thing is, he finds Stiles to be annoying, but endearing. When he isn't thinking about how he'd like to kill him, he thinks about an overeager, people-pleasing kid. He knows that he and Stiles are same age, but Stiles is still just a big kid, excited about everything and emotional and pure and raw. Derek really has no clue how the world hasn't figured out that Stiles is gay. With him, he hides it, he makes a point of having a surly, gruff image and the press leave him alone. Stiles, though, he's all over the place, and even though he has women on his arm, you can clearly tell he doesn't want them that way. You can read everything in his eyes, the set of his mouth, the tilt of his head…not that Derek studies him. Then again, Derek thought Stiles was with Lydia before he actually met him, so what does he know. All of this is moot, though, as Stiles is currently dating Isaac, is currently making a dear friend happy. All of this is moot, because Derek does not want Stiles.

At least, that's what he tells himself as he towels off, that's what he tells himself as his hand chases the water droplets the towel missed, trailing from his shoulder across his chest, down to his navel, pausing at his hip before taking himself in his fist. It's just a basic biological need for release, and has nothing to do with that lush pink mouth, those honey and amber eyes. He is not stroking himself faster nor holding himself tighter because he can hear, so perfectly in his head, the exact moment that the other man's voice would go from talking to incoherent moans. Nor did he come, gasping, head pressed against the wall, back arched like a bow, thinking about the way he would taste on Stiles' quicksilver tongue.

No. He doesn't like Stiles. He doesn't need Stiles. Isaac has Stiles and them being together is the way it should be. As long as he keeps telling himself that, he'll be fine.

After getting dressed and downing some more coffee, he grabbed the mints off of the counter and drove to Scott and Allison's. Allison was the one at the door when he knocked, and he immediately noticed how rough she was looking. This was not, in his experience, normal pregnant woman roughness. He remembers when his Uncle Peter's girlfriend was pregnant. He remembers how Kate would be up all night with back pain and nausea. He also remembers the way she would smile small, secret and private smiles, when Gerard would kick and bounce inside of her. This was not that sort of rough, no, this was classic 'Scott is going to be the death of me' roughness. There is a pinched look to the corner of her eyes, tightness to the knuckles on the hand she is grasping her tea mug with. All the uniform signs of someone trying desperately to not beat Scott McCall senseless. Derek has seen the look in the mirror many times.

"Al, don't even worry about breakfast, drink your tea, have some mints, and tell me what he did." Being careful of her tea, he gently gathered her into a loose hug. "Do I need to hurt him for you? I will. I'm very good with a bat. If he isn't treating you right…."

"No, Der. He's been a saint. I'm made of spun sugar and blown glass right now, as far as he's concerned. It's his mom." Allison practically collapsed against Derek as she explained. "Melissa is seeing Stiles' dad. Papa Stilinski called Stiles and Mel called and asked if she could tell Scott, and, it isn't pretty."

"Okay…why am I here?" Derek was honestly puzzled as to what he was supposed to be doing.

"I don't know. Tell him to be a man. Tell him that there are worse things than his mom dating the person who's been a father figure to him for years. Make him stop being a big baby about this!" Allison got louder and shriller with each word. "Just make him understand that he has to be a fucking adult right now," she ground out.

Derek noticed Scott come up behind them during Allison's rant, but didn't stop her. Scott needed to hear why his wife was upset.

"So," Derek rumbled over Allison's head, "anything you want to explain?"

"Shit, Al…I never meant to upset you, baby!" Scott whined. "Just, my mom is having sex. With Stiles' dad! This doesn't seem wrong to you?"

"Scott, seriously, that's what has you all out of sorts? You've been slamming doors and whining and being a bitch because your mom is having sex?" Allison didn't turn her head, so her words were muffled by Derek's shirt.

"Sex with PAPA STILINSKI! He's the sheriff, he has handcuffs, and Stiles is his kid and…just, no."

Derek couldn't help what happened next. He tried not to laugh. He'd swear to his dying day that he tried not to laugh. The fact that he was laughing so hard he had to sit down was entirely irrelevant; at least he managed to untangle from Allison before he collapsed. "Dude, you're married, going to be a dad soon, and you're worried that, what, your mom is having kinky sex and that Stiles might end up your step-brother? Really Scott? Jackson and Erica found out right when you and I met that their dad got someone a few years older than us pregnant. Yeah, that meant they were forced to accept the reality that their dad was having sex, but they were happy for him because he was happy, and he was making our family bigger. Fuck, you've met Gerry, he's the coolest six year old ever." Derek was gasping he was laughing so hard. "Chill the fuck out dude, you have a mom who loves you, and she is dating the man you acted like a dad to you for so long, and you're upset by this? She's happy, she's gonna have a grandbaby soon, maybe she wants to share it with someone and she chose him." Derek suddenly stopped laughing; in fact he was almost somber. "I would love to have your problems right now. I'm not going to have kids, and I don't have parents to freak out about. Be happy. At the very least, put on your big boy pants and deal."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Finally, Allison spoke up. "Scott, can I trust you to not injure yourself dicing potatoes? I think we owe this man a plate of Ugly!" She rushed into the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to be an ass." Scott said.

"You never do." Derek replied, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "Thing is, Allison still loves you, and I'm used to it by now. Go help your woman."

Breakfast was made, and eaten, in relative silence. It wasn't an awkward silence, more one of processing. Derek was flattered, even if annoyed, that he is the one that was called, not Lydia, not Stiles, him. Maybe he had more family than he thought.