A/N: I am so, so, so, so, so sorry I haven't updated in so long. I know I said I would update in the summer, but I had a job and barely had any free time to do anything. Then I strained my ankle and couldn't work anymore or even walk much, but I was finishing a scarf for my sister that had been intended for last Christmas. Plus, y'know, had a bit of a block. BUT I am /back/ and I plan on writing at least some of next chapter tonight, however I make no promises.

Anyway, I hope you are all doing well and I hope you enjoy! Let me know if there are any tweaks that need to be made, and as ever you're free to share any theories you have. ;)


He's back at the loft and Stiles is there with him. They're just hanging out when Stiles turns to him and gives him a wicked smile. The chain reappears around Stiles' neck but this time… This time it's Peter holding the other end. And all Derek can hear is 'kill him' before Stiles snaps forward and claws at Derek's throat. He gasps and wakes up holding onto Stiles, the real Stiles, tightly, panting.

He must have woken Stiles up because his sleep-rough voice says from next to him, "Hey, you okay?"

Derek sits up and just breathes hard, trying to calm down his racing heart so he won't worry Stiles. "Yeah. Yeah I'm fine."

Stiles stays lying down, rubbing his back.

Sighing after a few moments like that, Derek lies back down. "Sorry I woke you up."

Stiles' response is to roll so he's lying on top of Derek, probably sensing that Derek needs his weight holding him down, needs something to remind him even in his sleep that Stiles is there and they're both okay. No Kate, no Peter.

"'s okay," Stiles mumbles groggily, hands stroking Derek's side and arm.

He buries his face in Stiles' hair, falling asleep to his scent in his nose and his caressing hands.

When he wakes up again – no more dreams this time – Derek finds Stiles clinging to him again. "I have an octopus for a mate."


After he falls back asleep, hands drifting to a stop, Stiles' dreams are indistinct and random – a relief from his usual nightmares. When he does wake up it's slowly, so he can hear Derek's voice but not what he's saying. So he just snuffles into Derek's chest and tightens his hold. "Mmf… nggl mmfpg…"

There's a huff of soft laughter by his ear before hands tickle up and down his sides, making Stiles snicker and squirm.

"Dick," he mumbles.

Derek just keeps it up then flips them, sitting low across Stiles' hips to keep him pinned to the bed, his squirming useless. So instead Stiles tries to buck his hips to throw Derek off but it just makes Stiles groan as it rubs their morning woods together.

Hips roll down into his. "Good morning to you too."

"I hate you," Stiles moans, opening his eyes to glare up at Derek.

He smirks. "If that's true then I guess," Derek rolls off and out of bed, "I'll just go start making food."

Crawling to the edge of the bed, Stiles grabs hold of Derek's boxer-briefs. "Don't be a tease."

His hand is swatted away. "Food."

"Fiiiine," Stiles sighs, getting out of bed as his stomach rumbles.

Which just makes Derek laugh. "See? I told you you were hungry."

"I'm always hungry," he snorts, going to leave the room in search of the kitchen.

"You need to go to the bathroom first," Derek says with an eye roll, like he knows everything.

Actually… "I'm not even gonna ask how or why you know that. Just – where is it?"

"The feelings thing," Derek gestures between them, "works both ways. And use the one in here. Door over there on the far wall."

"This is gonna be so cool but so fucking annoying at the same time," Stiles muses, going to the bathroom. That gets a laugh out of Derek as he leaves the bedroom.

When Stiles finishes up, sighing with relief, he washes his hands then follows Derek's scent and heart beat to the kitchen. "So what's for breakfast?"

"What would you like?" Derek asks, leaning back against a counter.

"What do you have?" Stiles hops up next to him.

"I can make pancakes, French toast, waffles, eggs, omelets, hash browns – those might take a while though. Anything really. I have some fruit in the fridge too. So what do you want?"

Stiles cocks his head. "Why do you have so much food if you're never here?"

"I just finished the place and I was planning on moving in soon, so I had to have stuff here." He shrugs.

"Ah cool." Stiles nods, kicking the cupboards a little. "I feel like pancakes. Do you have sausage or bacon to go with? And maple syrup?"

Derek scoffs. "Of course I do."

"Awesome," Stiles singsongs before looking Derek up and down. "Do you often cook in your underwear?"

He hums, getting out the necessary ingredients. "I might. Why?"

Stiles shrugs, grinning. "Nothing. Just kind of adorable. But also hot. Can't decide which is more."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Maybe it was a bad idea that we started having sex."

"Hah! You're funny," Stiles deadpans. "No take backs, bro."

That gets a cringe. "Stop calling me bro."

"Dude, I said it once." He scratches a hand through his hair, sticking it on end. "But I can see why you don't want that. Sorry."

Huff. "I'm not your bro. Scott is your bro."

Hands come up in defense. "Jeez, okay, sorry."

Derek rolls his eyes again and goes on with making breakfast.

"Soooo…" Stiles says after a moment of silence. "How's this gonna work, me sort of being a second alpha in the pack?"

Sigh. "Well I'm still alpha but you're allowed to give orders as well. You're kind of like the… den mother…"

"What?" Stiles squawks, flailing and almost falling off the counter. "I am not the fucking den mother! No way." He shakes his head. "I'd be a horrible mother. Not counting the fact I have a penis, which you are well aware of."

God, how many times is Derek gonna roll his eyes at him? "It's just an easy comparison. A pack is a family. You and I are the parents, they are the children."

"I'd still be a horrible parent," Stiles grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his boxers. "All I do is make fun of them, kick their asses (now that I can), and encourage them to do stupid, dangerous shit because it'll be awesome."

"And yet you love them," Derek responds, still looking down at the pancakes, "would die for them, protect them at any cost, shelter them if they need it, and continue to be there for them.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're a parent. Congratulations, you have kids."

"Awesome. Just what I always wanted, to be a teenage parent. Next thing you know I'm gonna be a grandfather before I even finish college." He perks up. "Hey, does this mean I get to ground them? Or make them do stupid shit, like see how many raw bunnies they can eat before they get sick?"

Derek shrugs. "Well at the rate Scott, Allison, and Isaac go at it, who knows. And no. You don't get to do things like that."

"Dude, I don't wanna think about that!" Stiles groans.

"Welcome to parenthood," Derek says, flipping some pancakes. "You got wolf married to me so now you inherit things from me like our ridiculous wolf children."

"Damn…" Stiles rests his chin in his hand. "What was I thinking when I agreed to this?"

Derek keeps his eyes down. "You can get out of it if you want."

Stiles just snorts because it's too late for that warning. "Fat chance of that. You're stuck with me, big guy."

"Okay."

He sits and watches Derek then, actually enjoying silence for once – though it isn't silent with these senses, not really. After Derek finishes the first batch of pancakes, sets them on a plate, and starts the bacon Stiles speaks up again. "Do you need any help?"

He shrugs. "Sure."

Hopping down, Stiles heads over to the stove. "Which do you want me to do?"

"You can do the bacon, I'll finish the pancakes."

Stiles pokes him in the side. "It'd better not pop at me."

Derek rolls his eyes. "You'll heal."

"Still annoying."

"You mean like you?" Derek smirks.

Stiles fake laughs before turning his attention to the bacon.

Breakfast is a pretty quiet affair; not much is said, and when there is it's just mundane shit just to fill the silence. Actually, thinking about it, breakfast probably couldn't be considered quiet since Stiles talks pretty much the whole time, but it's just random shit he's found in his reckless dives into Wikipedia. The point is that it's nice: good food, good company, a minimum of bickering, a break from thinking about mate bonds and evil uncles.

So of course that's when Stiles hears and smells Lydia outside the cabin right before she knocks. Exchanging looks, Derek gets up with a sigh to let her in while Stiles puts the dirty dishes in the sink.

Eyebrow raised, Lydia smirks at them. "Got your heads out of your asses then?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek motions for her to sit in the armchair adjacent to the couch in the living room while he and Stiles take said couch. "So why're you showing up at my private cabin?"

"Stiles didn't tell you?"

Derek sighs and looks at Stiles. "Tell me what?"

"Uh," Stiles scrubs a hand through the back of his hair, "you know how I said Peter wants me to kill you, then will probably kill me?"

"Because I'm likely to forget that any time soon," Derek snorts, wrapping an arm around Stiles to pull their sides flush together as if that will keep him safe.

"Right," he clears his throat, "well before I came to find you Lydia and I were talking and we're thinking the three of us need to come up with a plan to deal with him."

"Just," Lydia says, raising a hand before Derek can say anything, "the three of us because if the others are a part of it Peter will be tipped off and it won't work."

Derek's brow furrows. "Shouldn't we at least tell Allison? It'd be good to have a hunter in on our plan, don't you think? Easier to deal with Peter?"

Stiles tries to suppress the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets at that suggestion, but judging from the way Derek looks at him with his eyebrows raised, he doesn't succeed. "What?" Stiles shrugs. "Not too long ago, you would've rather died than even think about working with a hunter, let alone suggest it yourself."

He shrugs back. "We've all come a long way."

"Hence the happiness just now."

Lydia clears her throat pointedly and rolls her eyes at them. "If we can get back to planning? Or do you two need to flirt some more?"

"We weren't –" Stiles starts to protest before sighing, giving up. "Whatever. Anyway, I don't think Allison needs to necessarily need to be in on it right away. Like Lydia said, if too many people know Peter will catch on, and Allison is quick so she'll figure it out and back us up however we need her to."

Nodding, Derek leans back with his arms crossed, thinking. "So we somehow need to convince Peter that you decided you want to take his offer…" He huffs. "Good thing you've gotten so good at lying your heart doesn't even skip when you don't want it to."

"Yeah," Stiles sighs, scratching absently at his face, "but you know he's going to want to actually see me kill you, see for himself that you're dead."

"While you two were working through your communication problems, I found a potion that can mimic the effects of death so well that only Stiles can tell you're dead, since the two of you are bonded now," Lydia says. "You both just need to make the fight convincing, and you," she points to Stiles, "need to make the wounds deep and close enough to fatal that it looks like your attack is what killed him."

Swallowing thickly, Stiles looks at Derek, who's already watching him, expression soft and trusting. "I don't know if I have enough control for that. I don't – I don't know if I can go for the neck or the stomach and not go too deep by accident."

Probably feeling his worry and nerves, Derek uncrosses his arms and reaches over to grab one of Stiles' hands, twining their fingers together and squeezing tightly. "Stiles," he says softly, "you have the most control out of any of us. Hell, you had more control have you were first bitten than I did as a teenager and I'm a born wolf. You're a natural." He reaches his other hand up to cup Stiles' cheek, which Stiles leans into, and rests their foreheads together. "And I trust you with my life and those of the pack."

Eyes closed, Stiles lets out a slow, careful breath. "Okay…"

After a minute he pulls back and clears his throat, looking back across to Lydia. "So, how long do you think it'll take you to make this potion or whatever? And how're we gonna do this so that the whole pack is there to back us up?"

She pulls an old book from her oversized purse and sets it on the coffee table. "I just need to get the ingredients from Deaton, which will be easy.

"And as for getting the whole pack together?" She smirks. "You're the alphas – call a pack meeting."