Both driveways were still empty of any cars when Stiles pulled into the Stilinski one. Neither of them had said a word since the Omega had attempted to initiate a kiss, but his scent spoke volumes of disappointment and then mortification. Derek kept a tight rein on his own emotions, trying not to convey his own upset over the lip-lock not happening.
And his regret over being the one to prevent it.
Exiting the car, Derek kept his mouth shut, ignoring the way Stiles' eyes were glued to him as he made his way across the front of the Jeep, then the lawn. The engine kept rumbling and as he stepped over the ankle high thorn bushes and made his way down the incline between the yards, Stiles reversed back out and drove off in the opposite direction.
Derek watched it leave, his earlier regret manifesting into a lead ball in his gut that grew heavier by the hour.
Melissa sent him a text him around five saying she was picking up pizza on the way home from work, that Scott was hanging out with friends so it would just be the three of them. He wasn't sure if he was glad for the number, as it meant no unwelcome or surprise guests, but also meant he'd be stuck eating with a woman whose feelings he'd deeply wounded and another who hated his very fucking nature.
Turns out he had nothing to fear. Both women arrived at the same time and Melissa simply handed him an extra-large meat lovers then motioned to the stairs with her head, weak smile in her face. He returned the expression, trying his best to make it genuine, the smile disappearing when he turned and caught sight of Maria.
He left without saying a word to either of them.
That night, he dreamt of Stiles, of running with him through the woods in their wolf forms, chasing one another, playfully nipping at tails and ankles. When he tired of chasing the Omega, he caught him by the scruff of the neck, a wrestling match breaking out that ended with them both shifted back to their human forms, naked and pressed together from chest to thigh as Derek lowered his head and kissed him. Reopening his eyes after their lip-lock found him standing, fully clothed, finding Stiles in the same exact outfit he'd worn earlier that day.
His regret over not kissing Stiles in real life was palpable.
The next day he was restless as hell and knew exactly why. His body woke him up at its usual ass-o'clock time for his daily run and in this instance, he doubled it, not going home until the sun was up. He stood under the shower spray longer than usual, bone weary and muscle tired, but mentally buzzing. His wolf was pacing around his head, scratching at invisible walls of the cage he kept the animal behind most of the time, yowling and whining and generally wreaking havoc on Derek's nerves and sanity.
Because running past Stiles' Jeep and Stiles' house and Stiles countless times wasn't bad enough for his mental health.
Shit, he should've kissed him.
No he shouldn't have.
Maybe he should've let Stiles kiss him.
Nope, also shouldn't have done that.
He'd done the right thing, he knew he had. Maybe he'd said it wrong or handled it in the wrong way, but he'd done the right thing.
His wolf was pissed as hell at him for it, but what the fuck did it know?
His dad's voice sounded in his head, childhood lessons over listening to his wolf, over his wolf knowing best, trust the instinct. Fuck, he was disappointing his old man all over the place.
He cut the water off, thinking he'd spent enough time in the shower if he was fucking flashing back to his dad and having existential bullshit thoughts about his goddamn wolf. His legs damn near gave out on him when he stepped out, his knees having locked in place while he'd been standing under the spray. His muscles felt like fire-roasted jello and he had to catch himself on the counter before he completely face-planted on the floor. He sat on the closed toilet seat as he dried off the best he could, really only succeeding in making himself "slightly damp" rather than "dripping wet". After a few more minutes of sitting and convincing himself he was just air-drying, he finally got up, the healing in his legs working enough to let the limbs be useable once more while he wrapped the towel around his waist and headed to the door.
Where a heartbeat was waiting on the other side.
Scott's.
Ah shit.
Okay, not a big deal. He had options. He could just stay locked in the bathroom until Scott took the hint and left.
Except Scott never takes a hint and really, that would just result in their mom banging on the door and demanding Derek get his ass out now.
So, not an option.
Glancing around the room provided no escape routes. The place had a sliver of a window near the ceiling in the shower but it barely opened outwards and Derek was pretty sure its only purpose was ventilation.
So, also not an option.
Fuck, all right, so maybe he'd been wrong about the options thing. Which, sucked, but...
But really he had nothing to worry about. Scott probably just had to take a piss and was waiting for Derek to get out the damn way. It was nothing to do with Derek himself, just the fact that he was impeding the release of his bladder or some shit.
Downside of three people sharing a bathroom: waiting and hoping you can still hold it.
Maria had her own bathroom, but both Derek and Scott had learned at an early age that it wasn't a preferable option over just holding it. They'd sooner give in to stereotypes and mark a tree in the backyard than voluntarily subject themselves to the countless cloying scents hanging about her en suite: anti-wrinkle this, age-defying that, perfumes, lotions, body sprays, home remedies with fuck knew what purpose except to assault a poor wolf's nose, potpourri.
If Hell did exist, Derek imagined it smelled a lot like Maria Delgado's bathroom.
Smearing a hand down his face, Derek mentally braced himself to face his brother, adjusting his towel around his waist in a bid for more time, tucking the corner in tighter to prevent any accidental flashings. He briefly wondered if he'd do the same thing were it Stiles on the other side, if he'd just take his chances with how it was, if he'd loosen it, set himself up for a wardrobe malfunction in an archaic way of showing off, of proving his worth as an Alpha. He shook his head to get rid of that thought, water droplets that had been clinging to his hair spraying about the place. Figuring he'd put it off enough, he took a deep breath and sighed it out, then opened the door.
Scott was standing with both hands braced on the doorframe as he leaned forward, head slightly ducked down as he glowered at his older brother. Derek opened his mouth to apologize for taking so long, to make a quip about bladder infections caused by holding it too long, only to catch the scent of his chemosignals. No pain, no annoyance. Irritation, yes, but the same low level dose that seemed par for the course when it came to Scott dealing with him in recent times. But it was hidden beneath the scents of curiosity and determination and Derek had flashbacks to the day before, to opening the door to the sheriff and getting a whiff of those same emotions.
He halfway considered the possibility of this conversation being about Stiles, too, only to dismiss the idea. Scott was keeping Derek at arms length, and with the other arm, holding Stiles away in a stereotypical protective Alpha fashion. It wouldn't make sense for the younger McHale to suddenly wanna talk about the Omega when he'd clearly disapproved of Derek even referring to Stiles.
Then again, not a whole helluva lot about Derek's life lately made sense.
He cocked an eyebrow in silent question, hand holding on to where the end of his towel was tucked in, parting his lips to ask what was up. Only to get cut off by a rush of words tumbling out of Scott's mouth, like the dam had burst and he was unable to hold back the flood.
"Did you really beat up Jackson?" he asked dubiously, with a slight hint of judgment, something only Scott was capable of. He dropped his arms from the doorframe, folding them over his chest as he shuffled on his feet, stopping when they were shoulder length apart, braced for a fight. "Mom said you were suspended and literally everyone at school noticed Jackson wasn't there today. There's rumors going around that you shifted and Stiles said you kicked his ass. Is it true?" He peered up at Derek with a look that was half disapproval, half "say it ain't so, Joe", trepidation and confusion and criticism coloring his scent.
Derek wanted to tell Scott to fuck off, that it was none of his business, to argue and claim innocence, to plead his case and make his brother see why exactly he had done what he did. But he didn't, couldn't. His mind filled with the image of Stiles curled in on himself in Deucalion's office, with the sound of the Omega explaining why he never ran for help with his bullying problem. Derek couldn't tell Scott the reasons he'd gone after Jackson any more than he could tell his mom or Deucalion or anyone else who asked. Because it wasn't his place to tell.
Instead, he shrugged a bare shoulder, shook his head nonchalantly. "Yeah," he replied flatly. "I did."
Scott's eyebrows flew up as his eyes widened, before his face rearranged into a confused frown, lips pulled to one side and making a dimple stand out on his cheek. "Why?" he breathed out, head shaking slightly as he struggled to figure out the explanation on his own.
And really, Derek couldn't blame him for being so fucking lost. As far as Scott knew, his older brother hated his best friend. All he saw was Derek being a dick, acting rude, harsh words and harsher behavior. He'd pinned the younger man against the wall the first time they met and to any outsider, it looked like an Alpha defending his territory and his Pack against an intruder. Scott had no idea Derek was purposely being a prick to Stiles in order to push him away in a lame attempt to protect himself and fight a losing battle against forming any attachments. He had no idea that he'd pinned Stiles against the wall to scent him, to scent-mark him, that the sugary-sweet smell of an Omega had called to his instincts and he was helpless to act upon them. He had no idea that Derek was struggling on a near-daily basis to not give in to developing feelings and just claim Stiles the way his wolf was constantly demanding he do.
And chances were sweet, oblivious, naive Scott had no idea Jackson was the one bullying Stiles and that Derek had taken it upon himself to defend the Omega. Because it would never have occurred to Scott that Derek gave enough of a shit to.
And while the elder Alpha wanted to explain all this to the younger, he knew he couldn't, not without confessing to some shit he'd barely accepted himself, not without spilling secrets Stiles wanted to keep himself.
"Ask Stiles," he stated gruffly, leaving it at that.
Scott just glowered again, adjusting his arms where they were still crossed. "Stiles said to ask you."
Derek rolled his eyes, mentally swearing at the entire world, rubbing at his mouth and jaw before gesturing with an open palm down the hall in the direction of the stairs. "Then go ask Jackson."
A snort and a sneer was the younger brother's initial response, scent bitter with resentment and spiced with anger. "Fuck that," he spat out darkly. "The guy's a giant fuckhead. The less I have to interact with him, the better."
On that, Derek could only agree, nodding once.
Dropping his hand to his side, he shrugged a shoulder again. "Guess you're shit outta luck then," he commented before brushing past his brother, heading to the left and the attic stairs.
"I smell it, too," Scott called after him when he'd made it about halfway there, causing him to stop and turn around. The other Alpha's arms had shifted so they were more wrapped around his torso than folded in defiance and anger, shoulder shrugging as he winced momentarily. His scent had also shifted to a resigned sort of sadness, melancholy pulling down the corner of dark eyes that were so much like their mom's and Maria's, corner of his lips twitching in a sad smile. "On Stiles, what Jackson did. Has done. And if you wolfed out on him for the reasons why I think you did, then I get it."
The small smile stayed this time, the warm scent of approval and gratitude reaching Derek's nose and he honestly had no idea what to do with it. It'd been a long time since those emotions had been aimed his way, since Scott had felt anything towards him other than anger and resentment, and it left him feeling lost, confused. His world was shifting on its axis again and while it wasn't the jarring sensation of a sudden flip like when he was told his dad had died, it was still hard for him to adjust, to figure out which way to go in order to regain his balance and find a way to move forward.
So rather than say anything, he just nodded once, his own lips flashing an appreciative curve.
"You tell Mom?" Scott question, Derek shaking his head. "Why not?" His brow scrunched up in confusion, lips parted, head tilted slightly to the side, looking all the world like a puzzled puppy.
Derek turned his head away, jaw clenched, unable to handle the scrutiny of his younger brother's earnest expression. Over the past couple days, he'd been looked at far too closely far too often and with the way he felt his walls starting to crack and crumble, he felt far too exposed and vulnerable to be okay with it. It made sense when it was Erica with her never-ending quest to form a bond and have him be her Pack's Alpha, made sense when it was Stiles with his desire to get Derek to admit to feelings that were beyond a compatibility of their dynamics. But it made no sense with Scott and his severed relationship with his older brother and his own demand that Derek essentially go far away and fuck himself.
Something was changing, beyond Derek's own personal one-eighty that he was slowly turning, beyond the reluctant—and unintentional—ways he was forming bonds with Stiles and Erica anyway, regardless of what he wanted—or if he even wanted that anymore.
But he couldn't be mopey and melancholic forever, had to move on at some point—other than back east for college. And maybe this talk with Scott was another step forward.
He just wished he knew what fucking direction he was headed in.
Rubbing at his mouth, he turned his head back, green eyes flitting over his younger brother, taking in his green hooded Henley and camo pants that looked a little too much like leggings to be worn by a guy, worn out Vans completing the outfit. It was the first time in months that Derek actually looked at his brother, really took in his appearance, his attitude, the way he held himself. Scott had grown and Derek hadn't even noticed, had been too caught up in his own bullshit. It was as though the past few months had matured him, settled him, and for the first time in a long time, Derek actually had the thought that maybe the two of them could get back what he'd thrown away and ruined.
If he was willing to take that next step.
And he was starting to think he did.
But it wasn't about to be at the expense of Stiles, selling out one guy to form a bond of trust with another.
"Because telling her would betray Stiles," he admitted, shrugging a shoulder to play it off.
Scott slowly nodded, brow still pulled in a confused frown before he bobbed them in dismissal and seesawed his head. "I get that, too," he replied, scratching at a mole near his right eye before loosely putting his hands on his hips. "And I respect that. It's pretty decent of you to do that actually." The corner of his lips curled up momentarily, scent briefly proud, and Derek felt his wolf thump its tail in uncertain happiness. Until Scott sobered up, eyes narrowing, jaw grinding, speaking with a sharp bite to his words. "Probably the first decent thing you've done in a long time."
Derek fought back a wince, murmuring out a weak "I know". Part of him wanted to argue, to point out that he was helping Erica with Calc and that was a pretty decent thing to do, only to realize he'd been coerced into it, that if he'd had a choice, he would've told her to go fuck herself, that her math grades weren't his problem.
He liked to think pushing Stiles away and that his dick behavior to try and kill any feelings on the Omega's end was decent, too, saving the guy heartbreak and from learning firsthand the meaning of the word "crush", but he was wrong on that, too. He'd done it for purely selfish reasons and it was only recently that he'd begun to consider Stiles and saving him from having to wait for a relationship that would never happen.
More nodding from Scott, his fingers clenching on his hips, lips pressed into a hard line. "You're still a prick though," he pointed out, heat to his words but not as burning as it had been lately.
It was then that Derek realized Scott had built up walls of his own, but rather than creating them in a need to keep himself hidden and protected, he'd done it to keep his older brother out. The cold shoulders, the fiery stares, the venomous words, it was Scott's way of dealing with how bad Derek had hurt him, his way of pushing Derek back just as much as he was being pushed away himself, his way of preventing any further damage that Derek may inflict.
Maybe they couldn't go back to how they'd been before.
Not that Derek had thought it would be exactly the same, not after what they'd lost and what they'd been through, but he'd figured they could at least be brotherly again, be friends again.
Now he wasn't so sure.
It was definitely gonna take more than a couple conversations and Derek defending Scott's best friend though, that was for fucking certain.
Because, as Scott had just pointed out, Derek was a prick.
"I know that, too," he admitted, a weak attempt at an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry."
Scott's brows raised as his eyes went wide, lips parting as his jaw went slack. His scent was rich with shock, confusion, a slight hint of disbelief, clearly not having expected any sort of apology from Derek over anything, especially not at the fact that he was a shit excuse for a brother, a Pack-mate, a person.
With nothing left to say, Derek nodded once, then turned around and padded in bare feet to the attic stairs, leaving Scott alone in the hallway, completely fucking dumbfounded.
Scott was gone by the time Derek was dressed in a pair of sweats and a worn-in black v-neck, having left the house and heading straight next door. Derek heard the familiar rumble of Stiles' Jeep start up not long after before it pulled away, driving in the opposite direction of the Delgado home.
He found his mom and Maria both in the kitchen, the younger female leaning against the counter in her pink scrubs, cup of coffee clutched in both hands, her mother washing her hands in the sink. He briefly considered turning around and going back to the attic, waiting until they left before making his breakfast, but his stomach growled, demanding food and alerting Melissa to his presence, her head turning to him and an eyebrow arching. Knowing he couldn't slink away now, he shuffled in on still sore calves, giving her a barely there smile as he went straight for the coffee maker, sending praises to a deity he didn't believe in that there was still some left in the carafe.
Maria shut off the water, eying him warily as she dried her hands off on a towel, brown with neon yellow and pink flowers on it, matching her brown tee and peasant skirt, bangles jangling with her movements. He ignored the stares boring into his skull, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring coffee into it, adding his usual sugar, blowing on it before taking a sip. Not that he needed the caffeine or anything, mind still buzzing, wired, wolf beginning its restless pacing again.
Fucking full moons.
Turning around, he leaned back against the counter, mirroring his mom on the opposite side of the room, right ankle crossed over the left. Tension had followed him into the kitchen, stiffening Maria's body and making her movements jerky, narrowing his mom's eyes as she studied him, making his shoulders hunch about his head as he felt like he was three feet tall and in trouble for yelling at Scott for stealing one of his toys or snarling at a schoolmate over the right to go down the slide first. The strained relationships between the three of them was tangible, even to the humans in the room, neither needing his ability to read chemosignals in order to feel how stretched thin they all were, to feel the anger, disappointment, disapproval, worry.
Probably for the best, because Derek felt like he was practically choking on it, the power of those scents overriding that of the coffee he held near his mouth, trying to inhale something that wasn't making his hackles rise and his wolf pace about for reasons other than the moon's cycle. He could always leave, he reasoned. He had coffee, could use that as an excuse for entering the room, claim he just needed a cup of joe then slink off to the attic.
Except his stomach growled again and he knew that wasn't an option.
Shit.
He took a deep gulp of his coffee, burning the roof of his mouth and wincing, before placing the mug on the counter. He avoided eye contact with the two females in the room as he made his way to the middle counter to fill the kettle with hot water and cut the stove on to heat it, then set about grabbing a bowl, the tub of oatmeal, and protein powder. He was gonna need it for the shift later on.
Maria dried her hands longer than necessary, shrewd brown eyes locked on his every movement, muscles still tensed up like she was ready to hightail it out of there the second he showed a hint of his control slipping. He realized then that their every trip to visit her was planned around the full moon, guaranteeing that they'd never be in California when his dad needed to shift or the kids were more rambunctious than usual. Because then she wouldn't see it, wouldn't be exposed to the side of them she believed to be monstrous, and Derek wasn't entirely sure if it'd been a good thing to protect the frail old woman from her fears, or if they'd done more damage by not subjecting the bigot to the truth.
He liked to think that part of the reason why was to protect the werewolf part of the family from any derogatory comments Maria would inevitably make, but he wasn't sure how true that was, given his mom's proclivity for not chastising her own mother when said comments were made.
Whatever. Too late at that point, what's done was done, all that good shit. Only thing he could do at that point was try to survive that night's full moon with as little damage inflicted as possible. Physically, mentally, emotionally...
Shit.
Smearing a hand down his face, he mentally shook it all off, focusing on his current activities rather than ones that were set to take place later on that night. He felt two sets of eyes on him, the air thick with the scents of curiosity and expectation, the earlier disappointment and disapproval still lingering below it.
A throat was cleared from his left, the soft clink of ceramic on Formica as his mom set her mug on the counter, fabric shuffling as she folded her arms over her chest. "You have a plan for tonight?" she asked flatly, words not giving away any concern she may have for her son's well-being or worries over where he'd be, who he'd be there with, what he'd be getting up to.
Every full moon since he'd turned eighteen and had come into his full powers—including the ability to shift into a wolf—he'd gotten an interrogation worthy of every cop show and movie in existence, despite the fact that his time was always spent with his dad. After his passing, Melissa had gotten even more in his business in regards to his shifting plans, her anxiety even stronger, fearful that she'd lose yet another family member.
But now? Now she seemed to be asking just to make conversation and wash away the awkward silence in the room. Because Derek had screwed up, had screwed up their relationship, and she... she just didn't give a shit anymore.
His wolf whimpered and he bit back the urge to do the same.
"If not," Maria spoke up, folding the dish towel, smoothing it against her chest. "I have one."
And now his wolf was rumbling, mind flashing back to when he was in the basement, trying to find bookshelves and stumbling upon something else entirely.
"If it involves chaining me up in the basement, no," he replied sharply, tone brokering no argument, narrowed eyes aimed in her direction.
She simply shrugged, entirely nonplussed by his reaction, looking and smelling completely nonchalant about it as she stepped closer. "Suit yourself," she remarked, not seeming to care either way, draping the dish towel over the handle of the oven door. "But in my opinion, that's probably the best place for you."
He bit back the growl that was forming in his chest, his wolf snarling in his head at her casual discrimination. Letting his animalistic half react to her wasn't gonna do him any favors. If anything, it would prove her right, that he was nothing but a mindless beast who overreacted, who couldn't keep a hold of his humanity and would wolf out at the slightest perceived insult. Besides, he mentally reminded himself, it was his abuela. Growling at family members tended to be frowned upon and taken as an insult of sorts.
Not that she seemed to give a fuck about insulting anyone, given the offensive manner in which she spoke about him.
He knew it was rude to refer to his grandmother as a bitch but honestly it was all he could think about at that moment.
His mom let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she let out a tired "Ma" in response.
But Maria had the gall to look innocent as she straightened up from where she'd hung the towel, folding her arms in a defensive manner as her scent shifted to something more irritated, like she was annoyed at her daughter believing there was anything wrong with what she'd just said. "What?" she questioned, dumbfounded, shaking her head in bewilderment. "I may be prejudice against werewolves, but at least I didn't completely cut you off and stop talking to you when you married one, unlike some families we know." She wrapped it up with a point look aimed her daughter's direction.
Derek snapped his head to his mom, noting the way her jaw clenched as she averted her eyes, her own head turning to the side. He caught the scent of hurt and offense and an almost sheepishness to her chemosignals and his mind began racing, trying to figure out what the hell it was that he was missing, what it was Maria had alluded to that had his mom so...
His dad.
The McHale side of the family was practically nonexistent in their lives and any questions about them were ignored and the subject changed. Derek never pushed for more info, figured it was a sore subject and that if he was supposed to know, he would, and now he regretted not finding out the truth while his dad was still alive. Because the way Maria was looking at Melissa, it was like she was hinting about her in-laws, the way they'd cut Andrew out of their lives for marrying outside his species.
No. No way. It had to be something else. His dad had gone out of his way to raise his kids under the mindset that everyone was equal, regardless of species, dynamic, gender identity, sexuality, anything and everything that could differentiate people from one another. No way would someone who so fiercely believed in acceptance of those different to oneself would come from a family who...
Then again...
Maybe that was why. Because he knew what it was like to be cut off for falling in love with someone so different. Because he knew the hurt it could cause, the pain of loss of family and Pack. He didn't want his kids looking down on someone who was different because he had been. He'd been discriminated against by his werewolf-hating mother-in-law, by his own family for having a human for a Mate. He didn't want his pups to suffer like he did, or for them to be hate-mongers like his family.
Derek hoped to god his theory was wrong, but everything was pointing towards that being the truth.
Still, that little spark of hope had him blurting out a "wait, what?", head turning back and forth as he switched his focus between the two females, hoping for an answer, an explanation, something.
Only his words went ignored.
"Not now, Ma. Please," Melissa breathed out, a plea in her words and on her face as she turned tired dark eyes on her mother. It was clearly a conversation that had taken place before, one she was done having, one that was bringing a stress headache judging by the way she rubbed at her forehead. "I really just can't deal with any of this right now."
"I can," Derek argued and feeling like an ass for it. But it was a chance for some answers and possibly the only chance he'd get so he was damn well gonna take advantage, gonna try and get them while he could. "What is she talking about? Who got cut off?"
His mom shook her head as she kept rubbing it, Maria holding her hands up in innocence, lips pinched like she was happy about it but was going along with things anyway.
"Fine. No more discrimination talk, but you know I'm right," she said pointedly before turning to Derek, brown eyes looking him up and down with a slight curl to her lip, disapproval coloring her scent. "The basement is always free should you need it." She gave him a look that said she believed he'd always need it and was better off chained up than out and about doing monstrous things, but thankfully she was respectful of her daughter enough to not say any of it out loud. Instead she put on a saccharine smile and left the room, leaving the scent of her distaste behind.
His mom heaved out a sigh as her own mother made her way upstairs, dropping her hand and grabbing her mug, taking a huge pull of it like it contained something stronger than caffeine and would be able to wash away the past two minutes of her life. Which Derek could totally relate to, his eyes drifting to his bowl of oats and the open container of protein powder, mind busy trying to figure out if he still had enough of an appetite to finish making it, much less eat it.
His stomach answered that for him with a loud gurgle.
"So," Melissa began, staring down at the mug in her hand as she swirled around whatever scant amount of coffee was left in it. "Plan?"
Derek stared at her in bewilderment, eyebrows raised before he gestured to the door Maria had just disappeared through. "Are we seriously not discussing what she just implied?"
She peered up at him, her own brows raised in a pointed manner, brown eyes hard and cold. "Seriously," she informed him in a take-no-shit maternal manner, meaning there was no changing her mind or talking her out of her decision. Her word was final and he had no choice but to suck it up and deal.
He breathed out a long sigh, roughing his hand over his face repeatedly before folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the counter in a casual manner. "Yeah, I have one," he told her, watching as she stared at him astutely, analytically. "Boyd gave me directions to this place in the Preserve. I'm gonna shift there in the woods."
She nodded slowly. "And Boyd iiisss?" she questioned, stretching the word out.
"The big guy who was here on Thursday with Erica and Isaac the scrawny guy."
More nodding, the earlier awkwardness slowly creeping back, broken up by the kettle whistling next to him. He turned and removed it from the hot ring, switching the stove off and double checking the wonky knob was lined up right.
"They're good for you," Melissa spoke up, staring down at the dregs of her coffee. "Your friends."
"I dunno if I'd call them my friends," he replied on automatic, eyes focused on where he was measuring out the protein powder, adding an extra scoop in the futile hope that it would ease the inevitable pain he was in for the next day.
"From what I've seen, they're more your friends than anyone you hung out with back in Queens." She gave him a pointed look before downing the rest of her coffee, eyes still locked on him over the rim of her mug.
Derek didn't say anything as he screwed the lid back on the protein tub, not entirely sure how he felt about the good point she'd made. And it wasn't like he hadn't already realized that himself, having had that very thought only days prior when Erica had needled him about what was bothering him, not accepting a non-answer. His so-called friends would've accepted his "never mind", would've shrugged in a "whatever, man, suit yourself" fashion before changing the subject to something that, looking back, now seemed completely shallow and asinine when compared to the true depths of real life. And he would've been fine with that, would've gone along with the new topic and would even add in his own shallow and asinine commentary, thinking it was the mark of a true pal to take his mind off it by redirecting the conversation.
But now he knew better.
Now he knew what a deep conversation was, thanks to Stiles. Now he knew how a real friend acted when one was upset, thanks to Erica. Now he knew that his life back in New York was as superficial as the trophies that had lined his shelves or the spray-tans Kate had gotten or the highlights his teammate Theo had put in his hair.
Erica clearly put a great deal of effort into her appearance with the corsets and the dark eyeshadow and the bright red lipstick. And Stiles was cautious of how he was looked at, refusing to report any bullying out of her he'd be seen as weak and pathetic. But there was a depth to both of them that went beyond any image—whether physical or perceived—and it made Derek take a hard look at himself, his life, both before his dad's death and after. The differences were shocking and he hated the fact that it took such a huge life-changing event—two, really, if he included the move to California—to make him see the truth about his life and his friends.
If that term could even be used for his social group back in Queens.
And as much as he'd been fighting it, fang and claw, he knew that the word could be used for Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. And, if he let it, maybe even Stiles.
Or at least maybe one day in the future it would pertain to Stiles.
"Like I said," his mom spoke up when he'd remained silent for too long. "They're good for you. Thought maybe they'd help turn you around. Guess maybe I was wrong." With that, she pushed away from the counter, crossing the room, the scent of sadness and disappointment following her.
Derek swallowed hard, a lump in his throat choking him, his wolf whimpering mournfully in his head. He'd honestly thought he hadbeen turning shit around—or at least trying to—and he knew that if she was aware of the reasons behind his altercation with Whittemore, she'd see for herself that he was no longer the selfish prick hellbent in destroying every relationship he had by being the biggest asshole possible.
But he couldn't do that to Stiles.
Not that Derek thought his mom would go around telling everyone about how the sheriff's kid was such a pathetic Omega weakling that he needed a big strong Alpha to literally fight his battles for him. And he knew that if he asked, she'd even refrain from telling Stilinski himself—albeit with a heaping of comments over what a terrible idea that was and it would be better for both Stiles and Derek to just come clean and tell the man—but...
But Stiles didn't want anyone to know and chances were that would include parents who were capable of keeping secrets. And despite all of Stiles' insistences that there was more between the two of them than just their dynamics, Derek knew that it was his Alpha nature that was giving in to what the Omega wanted.
He focused on his mom, watching as she rinsed her mug out in the sink before leaving it with all the other dirty dishes left for him to wash, thinking back to outside the school when she'd said there was no point in talking to him, to the other day when she said she was just done with him.
And she looked it, too, as she turned to face him, shoulders slumped, hand rubbing at her forehead before smoothing over her pulled back hair. Her eyes were closed as she let out a tired sigh and he felt it like a punch in the gut, his features pulling into a sad frown as his wolf let out cries of distress.
"I," he began, cutting himself off and shutting his mouth with a click when she held up a hand to get him to do just that. Probably for the best. He had no clue where he was going with that thought.
I'm sorry. I messed up. I'm trying to be better. I wish I could explain. I want us to go back to how we were in New York.
I miss you.
I need you.
I hurt and I have no idea how to fix everything I broke but I want to so very fucking much.
Tears welled in his eyes and it was only the grit of his jaw and the bite of his pride that held them back, prevented him from breaking down in front of her like a kid with a skinned knee.
No magical kisses were gonna heal these wounds and he longed for the days when something as small as road rash from a missed bicycle trick were his biggest problems.
His mom took a deep breath, eyes closed as she steadied herself, scent a jumbled mess Derek couldn't figure out. "I meant what I said about being done and giving up," she stated flatly, with a sense of finality it was like a judge handing down her sentence. Her eyes opened, dark orbs locking on his green ones as she crossed her arms. "Stay safe tonight." She nodded once, left the room, left the house with a definitive click of the latch.
Like a gavel banging.
Guilty as charged.
Derek spent the day in the attic. He listened as Maria puttered about, doing this chore or that tidying, as she weeded her garden and fed her flowers, all the while singing along to her staticy Spanish-language radio station. Part of him wanted to put on his headphones and listen to his own music, but he couldn't get Erica's voice out of his head, referring to his favorite songs as "screaming man-pain". Took the enjoyment out of it.
So instead, he tried his best to block out his abuela and her warbled crooning, focusing instead on finishing up projects and homework, taking breaks for random sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups whenever he felt too restless and his attention span waned. He made a couple three-meat triple-decker sandwiches for lunch, needing the protein and carbs for later, then spent an hour or so researching colleges back in New York, only to give up when he realized he had no idea what he wanted to do for a career, much less what major to pick.
He completely ignored his wolf and its whining over the idea of going to school back east and any and all possibilities of what that could mean.
More calisthenics, more trying to get through Heart of Darkness, more feeling increasingly antsy as the day wore on. His skin was tingling, nail beds and gums itching, mind buzzing, and he was tempted to just go ahead and shift solely to get some relief. But the last thing he wanted was for Maria to stumble upon him in his wolf form and use it as some sort of proof that he was incapable of controlling himself or his animal side, or for his mom to completely misconstrue the situation and think he did it on purpose to scare her just because he was a dick like that.
The same way they all misconstrued the night he'd met Stiles.
Thoughts of the Omega had him drifting back to the window, pushing the curtain aside to peek through and into Stiles' bedroom, despite the fact that the guy wasn't there, evidenced by the still missing Jeep. Wasn't the first time Derek had sought out a glimpse of the teen that day, his wolf slowly taking over his body and his thought process, instincts driving him to check on the younger man for unknown reasons...
Okay, maybe not so unknown.
Derek just fucking cared about him, was worried that something was gonna happen to him during the full moon, was constantly seeking reassurance that the bullying victim was safe and sound. And as much as he tried to tell himself it was just because Stiles had been picked on and instincts were telling Derek to protect the Omega, he knew that wasn't the full truth. His caring went beyond that, to a point that frankly scared him with the depths of it, to a point where he didn't wanna think about it too much or he'd wind up howling outside the guy's window all night like some pathetic loser out of a werewolf rom-com.
He realized suddenly that he was glad he wasn't gonna be totally alone when he shifted later on, a thought he never would've believed he'd have. But frankly, he needed someone to watch over him, to keep his ass in check, to make sure he didn't turn around and hightail it back to town to track Stiles down and...
And fuck knew what he'd do, really.
Considering his wolf's reactions around Stiles, it honestly wouldn't surprise Derek if the animal started humping the guy's leg.
Not a good idea considering sheriff's kid and underaged and mixed signals.
But he couldn't keep his thoughts from running away from him, fantasies of running under the full moon together, shifting back to their naked human forms so Derek could claim him out in the wild like their primitive ancestors, sinking his teeth into the Omega's throat to mark him as taken as he knotted him over and over again.
Not that it was ever gonna happen, consider the fact that Derek had told the guy "no relationships", not to mention that Stiles was underage and therefore couldn't be knotted, much less full shift into a wolf. Chances were he'd be spending his night partying with other werewolves, getting rid of excess energy from the moon by dancing to obnoxious music and drinking illegally in much the same way Derek had on a few occasions back in Queens.
He thought of the time Kate's parents had gone out of town to visit family and she'd thrown a rager at her place, only to spend the entire time up in her room with Derek as they rutted against one another, as he ate her out for hours, as she blew him repeatedly. He'd never come so much in his entire life—until he'd started having heats anyway—and he knew it was from the full moon playing with baser instincts and driving them to procreate—and causing him to pop his knot and get nagged at about it.
Suddenly he was inundated with images of Stiles rolling around in bed with some other Alpha, Lydia riding his face as his Omega instincts drove him to please her, Danny burying his face between Stiles' cheeks as he ate him out like a starved man. And all the while, Stiles was keening, crying, moaning, begging for more, eyes flashing Omega gold and his tiny fangs on display, hole gaping and leaking profusely.
If curtains could be slammed, Derek was sure that's what would've happened as he threw the flap closed once more, stalking away from the window. A low growl rumbled up from his chest, hands shoved through his h air, claws pricking at his scalp as he thought of his Omega—of Stiles with someone else. Fuck, he'd never been the jealous type before, not even when Kate made yet another empty threat about "finding an Alpha who can get the job done, since you seem to be having trouble with it". If anything, his ego would be bruised and his Alpha nature would kick in, spurned on to prove himself the dominant one. But not once had his claws popped out or his fangs slid down at just the thought of the object of his affections getting pleasure from someone else.
And he wasn't even with Stiles.
Yet another reason to keep his distance, Derek figured. Less homicidal thoughts, less chance of winding up jail. He'd gotten suspended for over a week for wolfing out and beating that Whittemore douche solely for bullying Stiles. He knew without a doubt he'd be worse should anyone touch what his wolf believed to be theirs in a more intimate fashion.
Shit, he needed to stop thinking about Stiles. It was becoming unhealthy, obsessive. He blamed it on the full moon fucking with his head and his instincts, but he knew it was more than that. He just refused to acknowledge it, the way he was refusing to acknowledge a lotta shit going through his head.
Instead, he snatched up his phone from the desk, typing up a message to his mom to let her know he was headed out, feeling like it was the right thing to do. He didn't get a response, which didn't surprise him. He figured she was driving home and couldn't check her phone, or was caught up in a huge emergency and had to stay at work, or was just flat out ignoring him due to his recent insolence.
Understandable.
Rather than dwell on it, he shoved his feet into some sneakers, grabbed his keys, then headed down the stairs. It was still relatively early, the sun barely halfway down the sky, but he figured he could grab some burgers and drive around town for a while. Anything to distract himself from the Omega next door and what he may or may not get up to later on that night.
And what the Alpha wanted to do to him instead.
Boyd inherited his size from his dad. It was obvious the second Derek parked in the spot he and Stiles had been in only the day before, his headlights illuminating a large dark-skinned male with short curly hair, a goatee, and glasses, standing with a petite female with a shaved head. Derek automatically found Boyd's lips and eyes on her, his nose on the man, and knew these were his parents.
Stepping out of the car, he found Boyd himself several yards away, leaning against a thick tree trunk with his hands shoved in the pockets of his basketball shorts, torso bare and displaying an impressive set of muscles that seemed more Alpha-like than typically found on a Beta. While his parents gave the new arrival shrewd looks and whispered between themselves, he gave a head bob of acknowledgment to the Alpha, Derek returning the gesture with a few curious glances to his folks.
Derek locked the Camaro up before making his way over to his classmate, leaves and twigs crunching under his sneakers. Boyd was already barefoot, as were his parents, and Derek felt strangely overdressed in his sweats and tee, despite going without undergarments. But when compared to Boyd's shirtlessness, his mom's sarong, and the wrap his dad had around his waist, Derek easily stood out as being heavily covered.
He changed all that when he reached the youngest Beta—because they were all Betas, he caught enough of Mr and Mrs Boyd's scents enough to know that and that they were entirely skeptical and judgmental regarding his presence—toeing off his sneakers as he began to strip. Had to take his clothes off to shift anyway. Might as well go ahead and undress then.
"Decided to grace us with your presence, huh?" Boyd questioned, slight hint of amusement in his voice and his scent, lips twisted ever so slightly as he stared down at Derek's feet.
The Alpha shrugged, nudging his sneakers closer to the base of the redwood. "Well, it was either this or let my abuela chain me up in her basement."
"I'm sure she's disappointed you didn't go for option B."
"She's not the first female I've disappointed her lately," he pointed out, fisting his shirt behind his head. "Or the first person really." He gave another awkward shrug, ignoring his whimpering wolf as he pulled his tee up and over.
Boyd let out a noncommittal hum, scratching his jaw, barely there whiskers from a day of not shaving rasping ever so slightly. "I get what that's like. Trust me," he replied thickly, voice an octave deeper than usual, scent melancholic and disappointed.
Free of his shirt, Derek opened his mouth to speak, to question how it was that he'd disappointed Boyd, to object if this was yet another not so subtle attempt at trying to recruit him as a Pack Alpha, only to shut up. Because the other man's eyes were focused on his parents, both of them facing away, huddled together, occasionally peeking over their shoulders at the two younger wolves. Derek glanced back and forth between the family unit, noting a disconnect between them, a lack of familial love and care that had always been present for the McHales during full moons, human mom included.
It was then that he noticed the tension in Boyd's shoulders, in the way he held himself. He was faking casual, leaning against the tree, hands in his pockets, but his fingers were curled into such tight fists Derek could see how taut his forearms were, could see a grit in his jaw, could see his shoulders hunched up.
Fuck. No wonder he was in a Pack with Isaac and Erica. None of them came from good homes, from good families, and they gravitated towards one another, their wolves recognizing similar broken souls.
That being said, it was no wonder they gravitated towards Derek, too.
He dropped his shirt on top of his sneakers, his keys and silenced phone added to the pile, then moved so he was standing next to Boyd, facing the same direction as him. In a move of solidarity, he bumped into him with his shoulder, noting how the round of his shoulder hit the Beta's bicep. He wanted to chalk it up to Boyd standing on a root or him being in a dip, but he knew that was just his ego talking.
The larger man's lips twisted up in a wry grin, small laugh gusting out his nose. But his scent evened out and the tension left his frame, his wolf more than likely soothed by the contact from an Alpha. And while Derek wanted to say that it didn't mean anything, that if anything, it was a guy reaching out to his buddy...
He couldn't.
And not just because he didn't wanna spoil this minute amount of peace they found.
"C'mon," Derek suggested, knocking into Boyd's arm once again before nodding his head in the direction of the woods. "Let's get outta here."
The moon wasn't at its peak just yet and his wolf was still—mostly—bearable, but he knew both he and Boyd would be better off with some distance between them and the older Boyds. Besides, what better way than to get rid of some tension by shifting into their wolf forms and running shit out? Not to mention they could both do with the mindlessness and emotionlessness of being an animal for a little while.
Boyd nodded, exhaling a long breath through his lips, the rest of the tension seeming to leave with the air. Both of them dropped trou, adding the clothes to the pile Derek had already made. They stepped away from the tree and each other and Derek focused, rolling his shoulders and his head, relaxing into the shift and letting it happen rather than fighting it. Soon he was on all-fours and furry, shaking all over to loosen the tension and smooth his fur out.
Derek's wolf form was about half his normal height, large and strong due to his Alpha nature. His fur was jet black all over, minus a tuft of white fur under his chin—a lot like what his dad once had around his muzzle—eyes glowing a steady red. The scenery around him was bright, everything clear and in sharp contrast, the woods lit up like it was noon rather than nine at night. Glancing around, he found Boyd only a foot or so away, his fur a deep dark brown, eyes Beta blue. He was still big for his dynamic, but for once, was smaller than Derek, something that strangely pleased the older man.
He chuffed at the other wolf before taking off into the woods, Boyd following, the two trotting before speeding up until they were running.
They booked it through the forest with no real destination, enjoying the scenery, the freedom, the chance to spread their legs and shake out their fur. It was an escape they both needed, giving over to instincts, their wolves not caring about families or obligations or human drama. It just wanted to feel the wind against its muzzle, to sniff the ground, to mark that tree, to chase a mouse that had the misfortune of trying to get a late night snack. The two ran side by side, a lot like in gym class, both satisfied with the silence and the companionship that came with with the exercise, no words necessary.
And with each mile, Derek felt himself get lighter and lighter
After an hour or two, they reached a cliff overlooking Beacon Hills, the town nothing more than rivers of lights amongst the darkness, crossing and turning and twisting in a pattern that didn't make sense at that distance. It was a lot different than the park Derek ran in back in New York and the view was enough to almost make it...beautiful.
Make it feel like home.
Or at least a home.
Sitting on his haunches, Derek lifted his head and howled, loud and long, the sound echoing off the ravine below. Boyd replied from right beside him, while four answering howls came from the town itself. Derek had to fight to stay put rather than run off in the direction of one particular cry, instead letting his tail thump against the ground right behind him.