Wow, alright, so this chapter was actually rather fun to write. It was supposed to be nearly 1,000 words short, but I got an idea at the end that I thought you guys might be interested in, and I surely was.
In the next two or three chapters (two weeks from now), I'll have to put this story on a temporary 2-3 month hiatus seeing as I won't have access to a computer, or any electronics for that matter. During those months, I might manage to finish the story, so it should go fast after that, but I can't promise anything. I don't know how much free time I'll be getting.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its lovely, lovely characters
Chapter 9: Braving the Hales
"Home sweet home," Stiles sighed happily, flopping onto his bed that still smelled strongly of himself and Danny, and faintly of Scott. Rubbing his face through his covers, he grinned. "I'm going to sleep for like a week straight."
"Not this week," Scott said, landing beside him and offering him a chocolate chip cookie. He already had one shoved so deep into his mouth, Stiles was a little worried he'd choke.
"Why?" he whined, refusing to roll over.
"Because you promised Derek, Malia, and Cora that we'd come over for dinner tonight and mediate the family gathering."
"What? Why would we want to do that? It's like walking willingly to your own execution."
Scott rolled his eyes, stuffing the cookie he'd offered into his mouth. "Come on, they're not that bad. Dude, your dad's cookies taste like the ones my mom bakes. Do they use the same recipe?"
"Scottie, you know my dad. He would burn the house down if he even attempted to bake anything. Your mom probably brought them over while we were at your house. We were there for like two and a half hours." Stiles pushed himself up, running his hand through his hair. He supposed he should probably make himself at least slightly more presentable. "Where did they go anyway? Dad isn't on the night shift tonight. Is your mom?"
Scott frowned. "No, but the oven is still warm, and my mom didn't make anything beforehand… It doesn't take her long to make cookies and the dishes aren't done, so what were they doing all that time before?"
They glanced at each other, eyes wide, and shook their heads quickly. Stiles bounced up, tearing his shirt off over his head. "Nope. Nope nope nope. I want that thought nowhere near me. They just got called into work right after Melissa finished with the cookies. That's the story, and that's what I'm sticking to. Let's go eat and get eye-groped by Derek's crazy ass family."
"Maybe you'll get eye-groped, but I won't be, and their food is awesome," Scott said, following Stiles off the bed. "Stop primping for Derek, I'm hungry, Laura is waiting outside, and you've got a boyfriend already. Let's go."
"I am not primping," Stiles shot back, dropping his hands from his hair, "I do not primp. I always look fabulous."
"And that sounded really gay. Danny would be proud of you. Let's go."
Rolling his eyes, Stiles slapped Scott on the back as they headed down the stairs. Outside, Laura honked the horn of a sleek, black Camaro impatiently.
…..
"Stiles!" Talia cooed, descending on the boy in a whirl of motherly affection and curly dark hair. She hugged him to her chest, squeezing him tightly, nuzzling the side of his face. Her breath was warm against his skin, her heart strong beneath his palm. "How are you doing, son?"
Stiles grinned widely into her shoulder, only resisting her for the eyes of the people packed into the house. "Very well, Mrs. Hale, for all the hours of travel. What about you? How has your year been?" he asked, allowing himself to be wrapped in the warmth of her affection.
"Very well, very well," Talia told him, slowly releasing him as the others poured into the hallway.
Cora threw a punch into Stiles' shoulder then Scott's, rolling her eyes. "Took you guys long enough. Was it because Stilinski was primping?"
Stiles groaned as Scott laughed. "For the last time, I don't primp. Jackson primps. I make sure I don't look like my usual hobo-licious self."
"Really, Stiles? Hobo-licious?" Derek asked, ducking around an uncle or maybe cousin. Malia darted through the narrow alley he'd made to stand beside Cora.
Talia watched with a remarkable amount of interest as Stiles' eyes fell on her son, his smile spreading just a bit wider, his eyes sparkling. She greatly enjoyed watching their interactions. They had so many strong emotions directed towards each other, but so little knowledge of them. It was baffling and adorably and so, so irritating all at the same time.
Just to watch the fire race across their faces, she said with a wide, toothy smile, "So, I've planned your wedding for the July after you finish your schooling. Stiles, you'll be wearing an absolutely gorgeous dress." She was not disappointed.
"Mom!" Derek cried as Stiles screeched, "Mrs. Hale!" Their faces were the red of rubies as they stepped only a shoulder width apart.
"Oh, call me 'mom', Stiles. The moon knows it will happen soon enough," Talia told him, ignoring their indignation and moving to the kitchen, her husband shook his head in only minor disapproval.
Scott laughed, following Cora into the living room and leaving his best friend and Derek to the mercy of the Hales. They disappeared the living room, looking for Cards Against Humanity and Apples to Apples.
"You never told me you were engaged to one of my many male cousins," Malia said, her words like a snarl, accusation buried somewhere deep in the back of her voice. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, leaning her weight on her back foot, her eyes flashing blue.
"No, I am not engaged to Derek," Stiles said sternly, glancing around at the Hale family chattering around the hallway, "I'm dating Danny, and I have no intention of getting married any time soon. While some marriages succeed when the couple is young, those that don't, those that are broken by war, rival love, death, or simply that the couple was too young, they just leave broken people in their wake. I don't wish that on anyone, let alone myself."
The house was suddenly very quiet. "What if you found someone you love and wanted to be bonded to for forever?" Malia asked quietly.
"I wouldn't recognize it, and even if I did, I'd probably fuck it up somehow," Stiles muttered. The house was silent once more.
"So much cynicism for one so young. Where'd that come from, I wonder?" Peter asked, coming down the stairs.
Stiles had a retort on his tongue, one that would hurt him as much as it would shock and shut Peter up, but he held back. That was not what his mother's death meant to him. He would not disgrace her memory by saying something like that. He glared at Peter for a short moment before turning and marching into the kitchen.
The kitchen where he found Derek's parents leaned against each other, hips pressed back into the edge of the counter. They were wrapped in each other, eyes focused with the same intensity on him as he stormed through.
"Stiles," Derek said, hurrying after him. They stopped, staring at his parents. It only took them a moment before they were moving again, Stiles headed for Derek's bedroom. Though he'd never been upstairs, he knew somehow exactly which of the many rooms belonged to Derek.
"Get me drunk," Stiles said as Derek closed the door behind them.
"What?" Derek whispered like the entire house could hear every word they said.
"Get me drunk. Drunk off my ass. Make me forget that your uncle is an asshole and that I'm a terrible person."
"You're not a terrible person, Stiles, far from it," Derek tried to reason.
"I am, more than you know. So, get me drunk, and then we can discuss it."
Derek groaned, but had no time to reply as the door opened to a young boy with his hand over his eyes. "Uncle Derek, I don't want to know what you're doing up here, but Dad says it's time for dinner."
"Micah, we're not doing anything," Derek told the boy, prying his hand from his eyes, "I don't know what Uncle Peter has been telling you, but we're not like that."
"Uncle Derek, I may be nine-years-old, but even I know that's a lie," the boy said matter-of-factly, looking towards Stiles.
A wave of heat flushed through Stiles' body at the sight of him, a thin sheen of sweat cropping up along his skin. Watching as the pair bantered, the crackling of flames filled his ears, flickering and burning pressed in on his eyes. His cry, the cry for a father that didn't belong to him, rang high over the flames. The cry was Micah's voice.
He needed to sit down. 'I'm going to be sick.'
"Um, Uncle Derek, I think your boyfriend is about to pass out. He doesn't sm- look too good," Micah pointed out as Stiles dropped to the window seat, rubbing at his forehead.
"Derek, you really need to get me drunk. Like right now. And maybe get me into a cold shower," Stiles grumbled.
Micah turned on a heel. "That's my cue to leave."
Grabbing his shoulder, Derek held him back. "Not like that, he's having a hot flash."
"What is he? A fifty year old woman going through menopause?"
"My life would be several times easier if I was," Stiles muttered.
Micah watched as Derek moved to Stiles, pushing the window open. "I think we should take him downstairs. Dad has that stash that'll get him drunk enough to pass out." He stared for a moment longer before muttering, his nose wrinkled, "You should probably get him changed. He smells like anxiety and sweat and… ashes? Whatever. Dinner's ready."
…..
"Derek, you and your boyfriend are just adorable," one of Derek's many family members cooed. She ruffled Stiles hair, drawing him to her. He laughed loudly, drunkenly, struggling in her grip.
Rubbing at his forehead, Derek tried to keep Scott from falling off the couch. He was falling asleep quickly, but the rest were all still going strong. "Once again, he's not my boyfriend. He's just my friend. Auntie, you're not even drunk, what the hell?"
"He sure as hell doesn't smell like he's not your boyfriend. He's got your scent all over him," she laughed, allowing Stiles freedom to stumble against Derek's shoulder. "He's even drawn to you like a magnet. Honestly, when are you two going to make it official? I hope I'm invited to the wedding."
Laura glanced between Derek and her family members. "Alright, I think I should take Scott and Malia home. Derek, you should put Stiles to bed. I don't think taking him home plastered is the best idea. We'll take him home tomorrow."
"Yeah, alright, thanks," Derek said, throwing her a grateful look as he passed Scott off to her. He scooped Stiles into his arms, ignoring the catcalls from his family. "See you tomorrow, Malia, Scott."
"Bye, Derek," the pair called back sleepily, following Laura out to the Camaro with combined yawns.
As Derek kicked his door shut, shutting out the voices of his family calling up to them, the Camaro roared to life outside. Placing Stiles on his bed, he set to work on removing the boy's shoes and socks.
Stiles giggled, fighting Derek every step of the way. "Is the big, bad wolf going to steal my virtue?" he laughed.
"I wouldn't take your virtue from you, even if you still had it," Derek said, tossing Stiles' legs onto the bed.
"What if I gave it to you?"
Derek stopped, one of his shoes in his hands and the other with fingers hooked around the edge. "You don't have virtue to give, at least not of the kind you're referring to," he replied after a spell, removing his shoe followed by his socks. He crawled onto the bed beside Stiles, pushing him below the covers.
"Work with me here, buns. I'm trying to get into your pants," Stiles complained, dragging Derek beneath the covers, "Be a sport."
The mortification of knowing that his entire family could most certainly hear everything that was going on flooded Derek's body, heating his cheeks. "Stiles, you're dating Danny and you're drunk," Derek tried to reason, wrapping his fingers around Stiles' wrists, holding him back.
"Come on, you know I'm hardly even buzzed. I'm barely half as drunk as I was that one time you and Danny both ended up in my bed and I somehow ended up on the floor."
"That doesn't change the fact that you are drunk."
"I am not drunk."
"Stiles-" Derek started, but a warm mouth was over his in the next second, newly experienced lips and tongue moving against his own. That's all it took to break his resolve, and suddenly, wished he was a little drunk too. He was pretty sure this was somewhere along the lines of emotional blackmail.
Derek was leaning over Stiles, pressing his shoulders into the bed when a loud knock broke them apart. They panted, staring wide-eyed at each other.
"Derek," Talia called through the door, laughter in her voice, "You guys need anything? Some snacks? A condom?"
"Mom, stop quoting Mean Girls!" Derek shouted back, face burning, but he didn't push away from Stiles.
"Oh, come on, darling! It's never a bad time for Mean Girls quotes," Talia replied.
Groaning, Derek tried to roll away, but Stiles dragged him back against his body. "What do you want, Mom?"
"We're all going for a run. We'll be back in a few hours." She didn't wait for him to reply. Instead, there was a mass migration out of the house, then silence.
Stiles, impatient of waiting for Derek to finish with his listening, pulled Derek closer. "Where were we?"
…..
Stiles dragged himself from Derek's bed in the early hours of the morning, head pounding, hips aching worse than his first time. He pulled on a pair of Derek's well-loved sweatpants lying across the floor and pulled his shirt over his head. "Ugh, fuck hangovers," he groaned, shielding his eyes from the crawling sunlight, stumbling down the stairs.
"Good morning, Stiles," Talia's voice called softly from the kitchen on the scent of coffee, wafting towards him invitingly. "Slept well, I see."
Stiles followed her voice and the promise of caffeine, finding Talia already pushing a topped off cup towards him. A kettle of what he assumed was tea sat on the counter beside her, wrapped in one of those weird tea cozies which was embroidered with wolves. "Yeah, I suppose. No night terrors, no waking up feeling like a fire is slowly scorching my insides. Actually, besides the hangover, I don't think I've felt this good in weeks."
"Good, good, I'm glad, but please, Stiles, be sure you are not playing with my son's emotions. We may enjoy teasing the two of you about your relationship being something that it is not, but we do not wish for either of you to be hurt," Talia told him, only her top lip visible above the edge of her wolf mug. Why were there so many wolves in this house?
Stiles frowned at her, a question in his eyes, fingers wrapped around his own mug, one with Belle on it. "I don't understand."
Talia set her mug down, folding her hands together before her. "You are both young, Stiles, so I don't expect you to see or feel it right now, but there are things unique to our family and the people who come into it. Things that we who have felt its tug can see simply by observing you and Derek." She surveyed him before asking, "Did Derek ever tell you about Paige?"
Stiles shook his head. "No, only in passing, to calm me down when we first met. Other than that, I don't know anything about her."
Talia nodded. "That is a story I'm sure Derek will tell you when he is ready. Just know that Paige was dearly important to him, and when he lost her, he lost a part of himself. He's slowly begun to gain that part back, but if he loses another person that important to him, I do not think he will survive it. So be careful, my dear, don't say or do things you do not mean. Be sure of those that you do."
"I understand," Stiles whispered, staring into the murky water of his coffee, feeling Derek's words from the last night of term whispered on the back of his neck once more.
Blinking slowly, Talia unfolded herself from her chair, slipping her fingers around the handle of her mug. "Follow me, Stiles, I have something to show you."
Following after, Stiles blurted into the silence, "Derek isn't going to have an existential crisis about last night because I was a little drunk, right?" he asked, sudden worry flooding his system. He couldn't even care less that this was Derek's mother. She already knew, so what was the point in hiding it?
"Oh, I'm sure he's already having one."
"Shit," Stiles whispered.
"You can go try to reason with him in a moment. Come over here for a second." Talia held a photo album in her hands, her cup discarded on the mantle, the book cracked down the middle.
Trotting over, Stiles glanced down at the open page. "Hey! That's my mother!" he cried, eyes already beginning to burn. He scrubbed at them, wanting to see the images without them being distorted.
"That it is, and that is me beside her. I'll bet you didn't know, but we were the best of friends, even after we left Hogwarts and started our own families. We were in Gryffindor together, but different years. She was younger than me, but incredibly smart, like the Sheriff. Even so, I was drawn to her like a moth to flames. She burned so brilliantly, it was a wonder everyone didn't want to be at her side, but only the oddest of fellows migrated to her, similar to you and your friends." She laughed quietly at a picture of the pair chugging butterbear in the Three Broomsticks, splashing the liquid down their fronts. "That's something for me to explain later though. You should probably know that, like her, you will attract both good and wicked beings. You'll need to be extremely careful."
Stiles gave her a puzzled look, but she plowed ahead without pause.
"What do you know of bonds, Stiles?"
"Not anything noteworthy."
"Well, for this particular lesson, you need to know that they can arise from many things, particularly friendship and finding a mate. Both of those I just mentioned are equally powerful and unique to the Hales in that we feel these bonds form, and they are unnaturally strong, particularly the bond between mates. I formed a bond through friendship with your mother as you have with Scott. That type of bond forms near instantaneously and is extremely strong, but rather easily broken. On the other hand, you have the bond formed between mates, like that formed between your parents or Derek's father and myself. That bond forms slowly and then all at once, and is almost impossible to break. Death is one of the only things that can destroy it, but it is easily mistaken for a bond of friendship. That mistake happened between you mother and I, and nearly tore us apart. So when I say tread lightly, heed my words. It is a miserable thing to have a fraying friendship. Just know which is which, especially with someone fragile."
Confusion settled deep in Stiles' bones. Mates? Friendships? His mother and Talia Hale? What was she even talking about? Why did all of Derek's family talk and act so weirdly?
Out of the album, a ring hung on a thick silver chain clattered to the wooden floor. Scooping it up, Stiles stared at the simple silver band with one blue gem inlaid in the metal.
"Oh, that was your mother's. She told me to give it to you when you were old enough, that it would help you discover yourself as it helped her. It used to be engraved," Talia told him, eyes scanning over the smooth metal, "I think you should take it now. And this album as well. I have a feeling they'll be safer with you."
"Are you sure?" Stiles asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"I wouldn't be offering if I weren't," Talia told him, grinning and pressing the book into his chest.
"Thank you, Mom!" he shouted without thinking, wrapping his arms around her before darting up the stairs, coffee, album and ring in hand.
Smiling sadly, Talia picked up her mug. Over the rim, she mumbled, "You've got quite a boy there, Claudia, strong and smart like you, but I wonder, will he able to handle what he is? I get the feeling that I'm not going to be here to help him much longer."
Well, there you go. So, we're starting to find out a little about Stiles. Derek and him finally did it, but there will be more to that later. I don't know where it came from, but suddenly, I started loving the idea that Claudia and Talia were very close best friends. I don't know, I adore the idea, and it'll probably come up again later, but tell me how you guys felt towards it.