A/N: I am giving you fair warning that the ending to this chapter will likely frustrate a lot of people, if not downright piss you off. PLEASE read the end notes for the chapter before you lynch me in the comments or give up on the story. :)

Stiles sat in the Hales' driveway, fingers wrapped so tightly around the Camaro's black leather steering wheel that they'd turned white. He was fairly certain his heart intended to beat him to death from the inside out; it didn't matter that Derek had assured him several times that his family didn't hate Stiles, Stiles was scared as hell to step foot in their house. He'd panicked a little the previous day when he dropped Derek off, wondering if Cora or Laura would come bounding out of the house before he could make his escape. He was tempted to turn around and go home, but that would literally be the worst thing he could do.

With a long, slow, steady breath, he gently pushed the front door open and forced his legs to untangle themselves and propel his body out of the driver's seat. The few steps to the front door were interminable, and when he pushed the doorbell, he felt like someone had hit the slow-mo button on his whole life.

Then the door opened and a teenage boy was staring at him, unimpressed. "You Stiles?" Stiles nodded, almost guiltily. The boy turned around and hollered into the house, "DEREK! That dude you're obsessed with is here!" and disappeared up the stairway. Stiles blinked, nonplussed, until Derek showed up at the door and gestured for him to come inside, glaring up the stairs in the direction the boy had gone.

"That was my asshole little brother, Nate," he grumbled. "I've been home for twenty-four hours and he's already managed to annoy the shit out of me a half dozen times."

Stiles felt a grin cracking the frozen expression of fear on his face. "I'm honestly surprised it wasn't Laura or Cora, yanking the door open and bodily hauling me inside."

Derek made a face. "They would have, but I swore if they didn't back off I'd wrestle them to the ground and tickle them until they peed their pants."

A full-body laugh burst out of him. "Oh shit, I can't wait to see you be all 'Big Brother Derek,' it'll be a whole new side to you."

A sheepish grin lit his face. "I'm not Laura's big brother," he reminded Stiles. "Although if we're talking size, I can absolutely take her."

Stiles chuckled, but the laughter died in his throat when he looked up to see an older woman, with Derek's raven-wing hair and eyes nearly as dark, studying him quietly from a doorway. Stiles was afraid he was going to pee his pants under her scrutinizing stare. "Stiles," she said finally, and he swallowed past a painful lump in his throat.

"Stiles, this is my mom, Talia," Derek said unnecessarily, but Stiles was grateful for the brief moment he had to get his thoughts together.

"Mayor," he said faintly, and a smile broke out across her face. The relief that rushed through him was so intense that it almost felt orgasmic. "It's nice to meet you. Derek's told me so many things about you."

"I can imagine," she replied dryly, casting a smirk at her older son. "And you can dispense with the formalities, Stiles. I'm a mayor out there," with a lift of her chin indicating the world outside the Hale house, "but here, I'm just Talia. Or Mom," she added, gesturing at Derek. "It's so nice to meet you as well."

"Are you sure? Because I would have thought-" He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence before Derek was unsubtly jabbing an elbow into his ribs, eyebrows drawing together in a warning stare. "Thanks," he finished lamely.

"Please, come on in. The girls are dying to meet you. They've been acting like two-month-old puppies for the whole last hour, wiggling and preparing to pounce," she continued, flowing like liquid from one room to the next, and Stiles couldn't help but follow, Derek trailing behind him in quiet amusement.

When Talia led him through one side of the kitchen and out the other, they ended up in a family room of sorts. Cora was splayed out on the floor in front of the TV while Laura sat in an oversized armchair, feet tucked up under her hips. Talia cleared her throat gently and when Derek's sisters swiveled their heads to see what she wanted, they both caught sight of Stiles. They shrieked in unison, Laura tumbling out of her chair and Cora scrambling up off the floor.

They reached him at the same time and both threw their arms around his neck, and he reared back in shock at the effusiveness of their greeting. When he glanced over at Derek helplessly, he saw the grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Um, nice to meet you both?" he offered, patting Laura hesitantly on the shoulder.

"Oh my God, I thought we were never going to meet you!" Laura squealed.

"Yeah, after you fucked Derek over at Thanksgiving, I figured you were a goner," Cora remarked, and Derek winced while their mother simultaneously pursed her lips in disapproval. Whether it was at Cora's choice of language or the fact that she mentioned it at all, Stiles couldn't tell. "I'm glad he gave your sorry ass a second chance," she added, and Talia closed her eyes, shaking her head and sighing quietly.

"My younger daughter is not the most genteel of ladies," she began, and Cora snorted. "I apologize for her bringing up such… indelicate subject matter."

"Mom," Derek begged, "just let it go already."

"It's okay, May-Mrs. Hale," Stiles reassured her hastily. "Derek and I have put it behind us. We're good now. Just friends." He plastered a giant smile on his face, praying that it came across as genuine instead of plastic, fake, and covering up an aching pain he was sure would never go away.

Talia smiled benevolently, apparently pleased to be able to put the topic to rest herself. "Are you hungry, Stiles? We have snacks in the kitchen," she added, as though he hadn't seen them three minutes earlier when they passed through.

"I'm good," he said. "I ate earlier, and I don't want to ruin my appetite for dinner. Derek's told me a lot about the fantastic meals you guys have around the holidays."

Laura snorted. "Thank Gladys, our cook. Mom hasn't made a meal since Cora was born."

Stiles could see Talia's smile growing brittle around the edges so he jumped in to redirect the conversation. "Am I going to get to meet your husband tonight, too?" he asked politely, and apparently it was the right thing to say, as her smile warmed another ten degrees.

"Jonathan is meeting with my marketing team," she answered. "We're finalizing the details for the New Year's gala. He'll be along shortly and will join us for dinner. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to spend some time reviewing the new budget proposal before dinner. It was lovely to meet you, Stiles."

"Likewise," he offered, though he let an imperceptible sigh of relief escape when she disappeared toward the back of the house.

"Finally," Cora hissed, grabbing Stiles' hand and pulling him down onto the couch beside her. "Now we get to get into the important stuff."

"Cora," Derek warned.

She waved him away dismissively. "Give it a rest, Der-Bear. Stiles tore your heart out and stomped it to pieces. That entitles us to be the protective siblings for a few minutes."

Stiles swallowed, alarmed, as Laura sat down on the other side of him. "We love you, Stiles, you know that," she assured him, patting him consolingly on his thigh. "But Derek is our brother and while we may get to torture him, we're the only ones who are allowed that privilege. So let me say this so there is no misunderstanding: you ever, ever pull a Thanksgiving on him again, and we will take turns ripping your throat out, with our teeth. Are we clear?"

He paled. "Crystal," he croaked. "But I have to fuck up again before we get to that point, right?"

She beamed. "Of course. We won't attack without cause."

"I guess I should be grateful for small blessings," he muttered, and Laura and Cora blinded him with twin grins.

"So. Time to tell us all about yourself," Cora invited, and Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles scratched at the back of his neck in bewilderment.

"What in the world do you want to know?" he asked.

Laura and Cora traded impish glances. "Everything," they chorused.

Which was how, by the time dinner rolled around and they were seated at the giant mahogany table, Stiles felt like he'd known the Hale siblings for his entire life. He kind of, sort of had, although he hadn't actually known them, exactly. He'd just known who they were. They were baffled by how they'd all managed to be born in the same town, relatively close in timing, and yet never met each other.

Stiles had pointed out that Laura and Cora had gone to boarding school for almost their entire lives, although Cora only until she finally rebelled and had a tantrum, forcing her parents to allow her to attend public school when she was a junior. "Guilty," she had said with a happy grin, showing her complete lack of remorse for her actions. And Derek had been sent to live with his uncle when he started school, since Peter Hale lived right down the street from one of the best prep schools in the country, so Stiles had only seen him at a distance when he was home on summer vacations. He refrained from commenting on his observations, at the time, of how unattractive Derek was; though, honestly, he figured it would endear him to Derek's sisters even more if he let that tidbit slip.

He got his first up-close-and-personal look at Papa Hale when they were all being seated, and he knew instantly what Derek was going to look like in twenty-five years. The man was an older replication of Derek, down to the multi-colored eyes and bunny teeth, and Stiles just wanted. He wanted to see that version of Derek in twenty-five years, sitting across from him at the breakfast table and curled up next to him at night.

Clearing his throat, he smiled his best, most cordial smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hale."

Jonathan Hale looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, Stiles. Right?" He looked around the table at his family for confirmation, relaxing at their nods. "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten you were going to be here tonight. I would have come home earlier to meet you."

Stiles glanced at Derek, whose head was bowed until he was almost face-down in his plate, avoiding Stiles' curious gaze. "It's okay, sir. Your charming daughters kept me entertained."

"You mean they scented blood and harassed you unmercifully," Jonathan countered with a chiding glance at the daughters in question. They both shrugged unrepentantly and it struck Stiles, not for the first time, that they could have been twins if they weren't eight years apart in age. "At any rate, I'm glad you're here. Derek has spoken of you so glowingly that it feels as if you're a part of the family already."

Stiles glanced at Derek again, who seemed to be simultaneously blushing and deathly pale. He didn't know what to say, but thankfully, Talia stepped in. "Jonathan," she murmured, shaking her head subtly, and he frowned as if remembering Stiles wasn't there as his son's soulmate.

"Derek tells us you're double-majoring?" Talia cut in smoothly, and Stiles relaxed. This was something he could go on about endlessly.

"Yes, unfortunately," he muttered, eliciting a snicker from Cora. "I told my advisor I couldn't decide between what I knew would be best for me career-wise and what I wanted to do, so she talked me into doing both."

"What are your majors?" Laura asked, taking a bite of pineapple from the Chinese stir-fry their cook had concocted. It was full of beef, chicken, broccoli, cashews, and pineapple, and Stiles was pretty sure he was in heaven every time he shoveled a forkful of the flavorful dish into his mouth.

Sighing, he rolled his eyes. "Berkeley's law department has a great Criminal Justice subset, which will help me move forward in my plans to take Beacon Hills' law enforcement by storm. My other love, the one I wanted to do the most but didn't think would help me as much in the long run, is Cognitive Science. I love studying people's brains and figuring out how they make the whole person function," he concluded, cheeks pinking and voice going shy. He hadn't shared that particular thought with many people.

"The day I met him, he was on his way to his Molecular Neurobiology class," Derek offered, speaking for the first time since they'd all sat down at the table. "Just the idea of it scared the hell out of me. I thought he was too smart for me."

"He is," Nate mumbled from the end of the table. Stiles started; the kid hadn't said a word since he disappeared upstairs earlier, and Stiles had forgotten he was there. "Because you're a total idiot, otherwise you wouldn't have brought him here."

"Nathan Hale!" Jonathan reprimanded him sharply. "That was an incredibly unkind thing to say."

Nate looked up from the phone he was holding in his lap and smirked. "It's true, and you all know it," he snorted. "This asshole broke his heart and here he turns up with him a month later. Going for ruining Christmas too, Derek?" he taunted, and the tone made Stiles feel ill. He cast a wide-eyed stare at Derek, who was so red-faced with anger that Stiles was almost surprised he didn't see cartoon-style steam shooting from his ears.

"Go to your room, now," Talia snapped, and Nate shoved back from the table, stomping up the stairs. Derek shot a look at his parents and they nodded, and he pushed away as well.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he muttered under his breath at Stiles, who nodded in embarrassment.

The table was silent for a solid thirty seconds following Derek storming off after Nate, until Stiles blurted out, "I'm so sorry. I should go."

"Nonsense," Talia said firmly. "Nate was angry that we fussed over Derek so much at Thanksgiving, and I believe he's still resentful. It has nothing at all to do with you. We want you here, or we wouldn't have invited you to join us for dinner."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked uncertainly, eyes flickering up the stairs. "I don't want to cause tension in your family."

Cora snorted. "There's always tension with him. He's a bitter, moody, obnoxious teenager, and he's unpleasant to be around ninety-nine percent of the time that he's not hiding in his room. Trust me, you're fine."

Laura threw her fork down suddenly, startling everyone. "It's not fair!" she burst out. "You should totally be Derek's soulmate. You fit here, we love you, Derek loves you, and it's clear you love him. Why couldn't you be his soulmate? Why couldn't you have some lame, normal name like Michael or Matthew or fucking Marco or something? Why does your name have to be Stiles?"

Horror rose in his throat at her words. "What?"

"You were so damn close. You've got the right last name, but the wrong first name," Cora supplied ruefully. "He told us you have his initials. You were just one letter off."

Gladys' tantalizing stir-fry turned into a leaden lump in his stomach, one that he was seconds from violently expelling from his body. "Derek's soul mark initials are MS?"

Laura stared at him. "He never told you?"

Stiles shook his head woodenly. "He told me he didn't want me to know, didn't want me to feel like I had to point any potential soulmates in his direction." He rubbed a hand over his mouth and took several deep breaths, trying to calm his churning stomach. "I never saw his mark."

Cora and Laura exchanged worried glances. "You wouldn't have. He hides it from everyone. It's on the nape of his neck, but he keeps his hair long enough to cover it."

Stiles couldn't breathe. Black dots flashed in his vision and he had to blink repeatedly to keep the family in front of him, currently staring at him in concern, from swimming out of focus. God fucking damn it, he never knew. I never thought… I never told him my real name.

"Stiles, dear, are you okay?" Talia asked gently, and he gulped, nodding.

"I have a sensitive stomach sometimes," he mumbled. "I need some fresh air, if that's okay. I'll just go outside for a few minutes. When Derek comes down, would you ask him to come out?"

Jonathan nodded. "Absolutely. It wasn't the food, was it?"

Stiles carefully shook his head, not wanting to upset his rolling stomach any further. "No, the food was amazing," he promised. "I just need the cool air." He stumbled away from the table, aware that his bizarre actions were causing a number of concerned looks to be exchanged, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

When he was outside, the nausea began to make way for euphoria as he started pacing back and forth in front of the house. This solved everything. He and Derek were going to be so fucking happy, he couldn't even stand it. His heart was racing, a silly grin stretching his entire face, nearly vibrating from being so damn anxious to see Derek again. When he heard the front door click shut, he whirled around and beamed at Derek, whose expression was both sour and worried.

"Are you okay? My parents said…"

"I'm fucking fine!" Stiles practically sang, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I'm the best I've ever been in my whole fucking life!"

Derek gaped at him. "What the hell?"

Stiles wanted to explain, he did, but he'd never actually thought about how to have this conversation, how to break that kind of news. He wanted to say something poetic, or heartfelt, or tender and sweet, and for the first time in his life, words failed him. So he did the only thing he knew to do, he followed his body's instincts and threw his arms around Derek, pressing their lips together and kissing him as hard as he could.

He was stunned when Derek shoved at him, pushing him back angrily. A furious thundercloud had stolen the bemused expression from his features and his chest was heaving in agitation. "Don't you ever fucking do that to me again," he hissed, and Stiles blinked, the nausea threatening to overwhelm him once more. "I told you I don't feel like that about you anymore. You can't keep fucking with me like this, Stiles!"

Stiles was frantic. He had to make Derek understand… "Derek, you don't get it," he began, practically begging, but Derek wouldn't listen.

"You need to go home, Stiles. Now," he snapped, both his face and his voice hardening into stone. "I can't deal with this right now, not on top of having to listen to Nate rant at me about… You know what, it doesn't matter. I can't do this, and I don't have to. Just go."

"But Derek-."

"NO!" Derek roared, and Stiles flinched. "Stop trying to bullshit your way back into my life! You keep fucking doing this to me, Stiles, and I'm done! I don't want you!"

Stiles couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and Derek took the opportunity to go back into the house, retrieve the car keys, and come back outside. He couldn't hold back the tears spilling over his eyelids when Derek threw the keys at him, landing in the grass at Stiles' feet. "I said you could have the Camaro for break. Keep it. I'll get it back when we get back to school."

"Derek." The single word was one of the most pitiful he'd ever spoken, and Derek flinched.

"Don't, Stiles. Okay? Just don't."

Stiles watched brokenly as his soulmate walked away from him, back into the house, and slammed the door shut between them.

A/N 2: I know it seems like I'm endless with the drama, and with this story I kind of am a little bit, but I honestly had good reasons beyond just wanting to string it out. First off, the scene (in the next chapter, I promise) where Derek finds out the truth is the first scene that came to my mind when I first conceived the idea of this story. Everything I've done so far has been working toward that reveal. Secondly, as I was working on chapters nine and ten, I realized that I wanted Derek to have some control over what happened to him. Many of my readers have been upset or frustrated that Derek has just rolled over and blindly forgiven Stiles for hurting him. While I feel there's a huge difference between being abused and just being hurt by someone doing something unthinkingly stupid, I agree that Stiles acted like an asshole and Derek deserved to have that moment where he put his foot down and said, "Fuck you, no more of this shit," on his own terms. Okay, now that I've explained myself, if you still feel the need to rip me a new one, you know where to find me. ;)