Yet some more slice of life, sort of, but not for much longer. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter anyway.

Chapter 43

Stiles shamelessly ordered Derek into his bed, his father's potential displeasure be hanged, and cuddled him so possessively that it almost felt like he'd enveloped the man with his soul. Whatever sexual attraction Stiles might have harboured for Derek's truly very attractive body withered away in that moment, never to be recovered, and Stiles waved it goodbye without any regrets.

Derek for his part settled down remarkably well after their emotional bloodletting earlier and hugged back just as tightly.

Sleep was deep and restful for Stiles, though when he woke the next morning he had a vague feeling of maybe having shared a dream with Derek. The look the werewolf gave him was a little puzzled, and just long enough to convey his own thoughts on the matter without having to say a word.

Stiles used the bathroom first to get ready for school and entered the kitchen to a scene straight out of a mildly horrifying teenage nightmare.

His dad sat at the table cleaning a gun, although he couldn't have been home for longer than four or five hours. The large pot of coffee by his elbow certainly spoke of his fatigue.

"Hey pops," Stiles said warily. "Everything alright?"

"You tell me," John replied calmly.

"Uhm, yeah. We're just peachy." Stiles sidled up to the counter and snagged the half-empty glass of orange juice Derek had parked there while he cooked eggs and made toast. "How did it go with the gang last night?"

"Managed to catch a couple of the guys, but not enough to make a difference yet," his father replied. "Now kindly explain why Hale didn't use the guestroom?"

"Dad," Stiles groaned. "Can you please stop with the accusations?"

"It's not an accusation, kid," John returned evenly, "but I'm worried. You're underage, and while I'm willing to make exceptions as they are necessary to protect you, I also need it to be above reproach." He put his weapon down on the cloth he'd spread out to protect the table from gun oil smears. "It's not about me being elected into office again. It's also very much not about you not being allowed to experience … stuff. I know that you're very responsible where it counts, most of the time. It's just that I need, really need to be able to look at myself in the mirror and not see someone who neglected his kid so badly that he sought solace in the arms of an adult who might exploit him."

Stiles snapped his mouth shut, feeling a hot burn of shame and confusion rise in his cheeks.

The sheriff turned to Derek, who'd halted his stirring and was following the conversation warily.

"Not that you would, Derek. I do trust you with my family, otherwise you wouldn't be here. But I don't trust everyone else. I don't trust our well meaning neighbours not to report attractive adult visitors while I'm gone in the evenings or overnight, and I really don't trust Scott's defence not to twist whatever news of that nature they can acquire to their own advantage."

"I know that, dad," Stiles forced out. "I understood that the first time you said it."

"And yet Hale is sleeping in your bed," his father returned and finally looked at Stiles. He exhaled and leaned back a little. "It's not like I want to keep you from whatever you think you have to do. I know that you're nearly grown, and that you've been taking care of yourself for a long time. As much as I want that to not be true, Dr. Rena is insistently reminding me that trying to take that autonomy away from you now in a misguided attempt to undo the years I've failed at being your father would be a recipe for disaster."

"Dad, I …"

"Let me speak my mind, Stiles, so I won't have to do it again," John said firmly, but not unkindly. "Fact is that there are a lot of things going on right now that are conflating into this impossible situation."

"Impossible for me," Stiles muttered angrily.

"Mostly for you, unfortunately," his father agreed with a sombre nod. "It's not fair, and I hate that I can't give you quarter when it comes to the Hales. It'd be different if Derek were closer to your age, but he's not. Too much is hinging on all of our reputations so you'll either have to bear it, or let the chips fall where they may."

"You know I wouldn't do that," Stiles said immediately, although he didn't even try to curb his frustration.

"I know, and that's why I'm laying down the law now so we can avoid talks like this in the future." John gestured for Stiles to sit down at the table. "Let's deal with this like adults, alright?"

Stiles sighed. "Hit me, daddio."

The sheriff quirked a brief smile. "Thanks. One, while you are underage, you may not have overnight guests over the age of eighteen when I'm not at home. Two, you may have sleepovers with Erica or Boyd, and with Isaac at Peter's when one or both of your other friends are also invited. You may also meet the Hales around town as long as it's for normal stuff like eating lunch or whatever else you would also do with friends your own age. Just don't let it look too much like a date. Three, I herewith extend your curfew by one hour to midnight when your exams are over. And four, I'll sign the permission for you to start your online business, although I'd appreciate it if I could be informed regularly how you're doing, and what security measures you're implementing for all of your protection. Peter was very clear when he pointed out how sought after you might become, so that's not negotiable. And that was it."

"I … wow, that's actually rather reasonable," Stiles said once he'd overcome his intense surprise. "Thanks for not forbidding me to see Peter and Derek."

"What, and earn myself your eternal disappointment and hate? Not fucking likely," his father snorted, breaking the tense atmosphere. "I told you that I don't actually want to confine you, just that I have to. While I'm not happy about the danger the Hales have brought into our lives, I can only be grateful that you've found new, reliable friends in them, and through them others at school, and something that genuinely excites you. You're so much like your mom … she was crazy about her hobbies as well and would've shrivelled up and wasted away if someone had tried to force her to give them up."

"Yeah, I remember her puzzles and riddles," Stiles murmured, a small lump forming in his throat, just like it always did when he remembered his mother longer than just in passing. "They were everywhere."

"And her knitting, dear god," his father added. "Do you remember when she left the basket at the bottom of the stairs and you fell over it as you ran at full tilt through the house? You nearly somersaulting up the stairs looked spectacular, kiddo, that's no lie."

Now that the volatile part of the conversation seemed to be over, Derek turned back to the stove and rescued the scrambled eggs from drying out completely.

"Can I just ask," Stiles' father said after a thoughtful, long look at Derek's back, "what exactly the relationship between you two is? You looked … intimate when I checked up on you. Hence our talk."

"I, uh." Stiles helplessly looked to Derek, who turned and looked steadily back.

"Tell him," Derek said quietly. "I understand that he needs to know. And he deserves to know."

Stiles tried to gather his thoughts but it was hard when he barely understood it himself. Clearing his throat, he said, "Derek's just … mine. Family. Or pack. Like, a brother, and a favourite cousin, and also my best friend, all rolled into one. Not like ..." He halted, trying to search for the right words. "Not like a pet, or something. Just, family. So, it'd be nice if you could just … not hate him for it? Or me? It just happened, but I'm not sorry it did. It's kind of a werewolf thing, but also a me-thing."

"It's okay," John interrupted his son's babbling gently. "I get it." He glanced once more at Derek. "But hell, kid. The old ladies in our street will never stop bringing pies 'round when I tell them that we sort of adopted the Hale boy. They'll want to fatten him up something fierce."

Stiles brightened considerably at that. "They will, won't they? Hah!" He pointed at Derek. "Be prepared for pie awesomeness! The ladies might not have brownie magic, but they could give Marsha a run for her money when it comes to pie. We absolutely have to make the most of it."

The sheriff rose then, and went to Derek to clap him on the shoulder. "Sorry for that bit of unpleasantness, and for what it's worth, welcome to the family. I need to go back to bed, I'm beat."

"Sleep well, dad," Stiles said.

"Good luck with your exam," John returned. "And to you good luck with the jeep, Derek. I've left the garage unlocked for you; help yourself to any tools you might need. Also, I remembered to go shopping before coming home, so make yourself sandwiches for lunch or whatever else catches your fancy."

"Thank you, sir," Derek murmured.

The sheriff waved and ambled off, leaving his son and Derek alone.

"He should've asked you what it means, too," Stiles said into the pressing silence.

"I couldn't have possibly explained it any better than you did," Derek replied. He dished up the eggs, placed two slices of toast next to them, and handed Stiles the plate. "Last night you did something that changed our agreement."

"I really did, didn't I," Stiles sighed. He tiredly rubbed his eyes. "I thought I was just … clingy."

"You were." Derek didn't smile, but he sounded very pleased. "You meant what you said about us being family."

"Yeah. I mean, I don't just strangle-hug the hell out of everyone, you know." Stiles picked up his fork and poked at the eggs. Derek had made them German style with onions, cubed bacon, and chives and they smelled amazing. "Is that very weird? We haven't known each other very long."

"I don't know much about magic, but I guess it doesn't care much about time," Derek said quietly. "I just know that it feels right."

"As long as you're alright with it, I'm too, then," Stiles promised, relieved. "Just … if you ever want out or something, just say so."

Derek gave him a long look that clearly said he thought Stiles was an idiot. "Eat your breakfast. Isaac will be here in a few minutes to pick you up and he'll do it for you if you're dawdling."

Stiles grinned and accepted the cup of fresh coffee the werewolf placed next to his plate.

oOo

"You smell super happy this morning," Isaac commented as they settled on his bike. "Did I miss something?"

"Dunno," Stiles said. "Maybe. Let's get chemistry out of the way first?"

"Yes, please. Last year's test was a bitch." Isaac flipped down his visor and revved up the engine.

Their drive to school was short and they arrived with a whole swarm of other students who'd also decided that coming in early was a good idea.

Having anticipated this, Stiles and Isaac retreated around the building for a quiet spot to sit and enjoy the morning sun and the coffee Isaac had brought in a thermos flask.

"Vietnamese," Isaac explained, pouring them both a small cup. "Super expensive, but really worth it. Peter said we deserve it for making it through the first week unscathed. I have danishes for after, too."

"Erica didn't bomb math, and Boyd actually aced geometry," Stiles agreed, grinning at the promise of a reward. "That's worthy of celebration."

"You could come over later and we can watch shitty movies and eat a ton of food," Isaac said. "I wanted to go to the comic store, but then I realized that I've already spent all my pocket money."

"That sucks," Stiles offered. "I could help out a little, if you wanna take on a tiny job."

"No job is too small," Isaac replied. "What do you need?"

"How good are you at creating light effects in drawings?" Stiles asked.

"Not very, at least not with traditional media," Isaac admitted. "Why? You need something special? Does it have to do with your good mood?"

"Sort of. I have an idea for something, and it's really simple, but it needs glitter," Stiles said. He took a pencil and scratched a very rough design into the dirt. "Like this. I thought dark blue, violet and maybe gold and lighter flecks of light?"

"As soon as I've got the new computer and graphic program, I can try to draw something," Isaac said thoughtfully. "Or just trawl a stock photo site for something fitting and alter it. Peter'll let me create an account for sure because I'll need it eventually for my studies and work. The first option would take a couple of weeks, at least, but the second one can be done over the weekend, at the latest."

Stiles didn't have to think about it. "The second option would work just fine. Fifty dollars okay?"

"More than, dude. Thanks."

The bell rang then and they emptied their cups and returned them into Isaac's backpack before reluctantly getting to their feet.

"You know, I didn't really think of it before, but McCall's taking his finals now, too, doesn't he?" Isaac asked. They entered the building and marched towards their assigned room. "It's not like I care, but I do wonder how he'll do without finishing his classes here. I can't imagine I'd manage anything above a C at most."

"Well, he didn't have anything to do but study, so maybe he'll surprise everyone," Stiles replied. He tried very hard not to feel any concern for his former friend, but old habits really died hard. "For his mom's sake I hope he does. Melissa shouldn't have to worry about that on top of everything else."

"Too bad she loves McCall beyond reason," Isaac muttered. "Cutting her losses now would probably spare her a lot of grief."

Stiles felt terrible for silently agreeing with his friend because the last thing he wanted for Melissa was to be even more hurt.

"Good morning, class," Harris sneered. The stack of paper in his hands looked far more menacing than it had any right to as he slightly tapped it with his index finger. "I'll distribute the questionnaires now and then you'll have five minutes of going over the problems and asking questions about your understanding of them." His tone of voice dared them to actually be so stupid. "Once the exam has begun, I won't hear a peep out of you."

He handed each student in the front a stack of the papers and watched silently as they reached back to pass them on. Two questions were asked, and then silence settled over the room as twenty-two students began filling in their answers.

oOo

To celebrate the end of their first week of finals, Isaac badgered Stiles' father relentlessly until he admitted defeat and allowed Stiles to sleep over without another of his friends present, though not for lack of trying. To the sheriff's disappointment, Erica had her own family celebration going on, to which Boyd and his grandma had been invited and were unwilling to pass on. For only having dated less than a week, things were certainly moving fast between them.

"You're the best, dad," Stiles told his beleaguered old man, pleased that this didn't mean an automatic no right after the establishing of the rules. "How about grilling burgers on Sunday? We could ask everyone to come. It could be phase one of introducing Derek as our adoptee."

"You try me, kid," John sighed, but he sounded fond. "Let's do that. I could even ask Mrs. Miller for her pie recipe."

"Devious," Stiles laughed. Mrs. Miller always made an appearance when someone asked her for a recipe and delivered the foodstuff in question herself because she was lonely and eager for gossip to share around the neighbourhood. They had learned to deal with it, and in this instance Mrs. Miller could be their greatest asset. "We'll let her stay a while, so she can spoil Derek rotten, right?"

"I'll make sure to have my camera ready," his father replied dryly. "Have a good evening, and text me every now and then so I won't worry."

"Maybe you should text me," Stiles shot back. "Tara tattled and told me that you'll go after that gang again tonight. Promise you'll be careful."

"We'll be fully kitted out," the sheriff assured him. "And we won't take any chances. State police will back us up and I will call if something happens that I don't want you to learn from the news."

"Alright. Happy hunting, then." Stiles paused. "Should I save a couple of pieces of the pizza Peter's gonna order from Angelo's?"

"You better," his father threatened. "Love you, kid. Have a good time with your friends."

"Love you too, daddio." He hung up and bounced on his toes excitedly. "Can we leave right now?"

Isaac nodded. "Just grab whatever you need. You should take the jeep because I promised Peter to spend some time with him tomorrow."

"No problem, Derek told me she's like new. I can't wait to see for myself!" Stiles emptied his backpack of his school things and stuffed a fresh T-shirt, a pair of underpants, and his laptop into it. Whatever he needed to wash and brush his teeth had been provided from the moment Peter had bought the building so he didn't have to worry about any of that. It made going over there feel almost like coming home, and he loved it.

Upon entering the apartment, Peter snagged Stiles and pulled him into a tight embrace. It went on for a while and made Stiles blush fiercely because Peter's body heat was seeping into him and he could feel Lou's giddy excitement radiate from the werewolf.

"Wh-what's up?" he stuttered, hanging on for dear life.

Isaac stared at them both.

"You finished the bond with my nephew," Peter murmured into Stiles' neck, his breath making the tiny hairs on Stiles' skin stand. "I noticed as soon as he came home. He feels so much better already, far more settled and content. Thank you."

"Oh, uh. You're welcome." Stiles relaxed a little into the embrace. "That's probably what you picked up this morning, Isaac. I guess we're talking about it now."

"How did you do that?" the other teen wanted to know. "I thought you were already pack-bonded?"

"They were," Peter explained and finally let go of Stiles' slightly rumpled and flushed form. "Just not completely. It was the difference between accepting someone and scent-marking them enough so they will blend in, and actually giving them the bite to bind them to the pack."

"Only I didn't bite Derek, because ew." Stiles shrugged. "I just hugged him because he was feeling rough and brought on the bro love."

"You must've reached out with your magic," Peter added, "and because he accepted your offer of shelter, the bond was completed in the way he required." He smirked. "Congratulations, you're one of the rare human alphas that have accomplished this. Were's everywhere will be going nuts, once they find out."

"Now I'm envious," Isaac joked. "The bite sucked, no offence."

"None taken," Peter told him. "It is actually considered a rite of passage for people who want to become werewolves, because our lives are violent by nature. But I'm glad for Derek to be spared the process. He's suffered enough and deserves a soft place to land."

"I'm not soft," Stiles protested, pouting.

"You're a marshmallow, darling," Peter smirked. "With a razor blade hidden inside, maybe, but a marshmallow nonetheless."

"Hmph, nice save," Stiles muttered, causing Isaac to snicker. He still had Peter's debilitatingly attractive scent in his nose and could barely think straight. And it was not his imagination that the palms of his hands were tingling a little from where he'd touched the man.

"I do have a way with words," Peter purred, patted Stiles' cheek in such a condescending manner as to guarantee his ire, and then sauntered off to do who knew what in his office.

"Come on, I can show you a few pics I found for your newest project," Isaac said, laughing about Stiles' scandalized expression. "Maybe I can even finish something for you before dinner."

To Stiles' delight, Isaac could, and he almost giddily stuffed the printed and trimmed cards into his homework planner for further processing.

"You know that I'm insanely curious," Isaac said. "Will it become an official product?"

"Definitely," Stiles answered. "I need to test it first, but if it works as planned, we'll have something awesome to offer the community."

Isaac smiled crookedly. "Awesome, huh?"

"Awesome," Stiles repeated. "You think we can get away with ordering already if we make the salad?"

"Let's try, I'm famished," Isaac said at once and jumped up from his desk chair. "You call Derek and tell him to get that olive ciabatta from Marsha's. I have the worst craving."

They had a great dinner with an engaging discussion about a range of topics, including everyone's social calendar for the foreseeable future. Peter, delighted at the invitation for Sunday, offered to bring dessert and an assortment of drinks for the adults, and even Derek, who rarely enjoyed parties, agreed that a casual afternoon of grilling and hanging out was probably the best way to introduce him to Stiles' neighbours as the sheriff's latest project.

"I already asked Erica and Boyd, and they both said they'll come," Stiles went on, "although Erica warned us that her parents plan on bringing her, and staying a while."

"And Boyd's grandma? Why not make it a full set?" Isaac asked him.

"Eh, she'll probably be beat from the dinner at the Reyes' tonight, but she might make an appearance to have bragging rights anyway. Boyd said that she can be very energetic when she wants to."

Peter wiped his hands on his napkin and cleared his throat. "It is a perfect setting for meeting everyone. If you have any information about allergies et cetera, please let me know so Isaac and I can shop accordingly."

"I'll help out at the Stilinski's house," Derek said quietly. "If you don't need me here."

Smiling almost softly, Peter rumbled, "You go where Stiles needs you, nephew, and wherever you want the rest of the time."

"Word," Stiles agreed with a grin.

Peter snorted, the oddly tender moment ruined. "You're atrocious."

"You haven't even charted all the shallows of my depravity," Stiles taunted. "Just wait until you really get to know me."

Peter's look of appalled fascination was a piece of art.

End of chapter 43