II

Stiles' visit to Deaton was normal: frustratingly vague and underwhelming. There was also the fact that Derek wouldn't let him out of his sight. It would have been endearing if it weren't so fucking annoying. Stiles needed to figure out exactly what the artifact was for and neither the former emissary or alpha was helping with that.

"So Doc, what's the stitch?"

It was simple in design at least: an even cross, on the first end was a carved moon, the second a smiling sun, the third a small earth, and finally a large tree. The tree almost reminded Stiles of the Nemeton and that made him shudder. He already hated that his magic was physically anchored by the tree. He hated all the creatures that visited Beacon Hills after awakening. Basically, he hated everything to do with it.

It looked like it was taking Deaton a lot of restraint to not roll his eyes, but Derek didn't even try to stop himself.

"It's a door, ajar. You can enter but you might not leave the same way you came in."

Stiles felt his jaw drop. "Are you fucking kidding me? This is not the time for cryptic bullshit Deaton, I need answers."

The man wasn't even startled. "Stiles, It was given to you as a gesture of peace. This cross means no harm. It's a promise, and you know patience is a virtue."

Stiles sneered at the man and slammed the cross down on the vet table and walked out. Derek let him be, knowing he needed the few minutes to calm down.

He leaned against the office door and forced himself to inhale and exhale deeply. His magic was flaring and it was exhausting him. This wouldn't be the first time Deaton's inability to give a straight answer would piss him off.

When he returned, he grabbed the cross and politely offered it to Deaton. Obviously amused, the vet gave a small laugh and pushed it back into Stiles' hands. "It is only meant for the one that originally received it."

The cross gave off its own energy. Stiles didn't like that either. He felt it try to entwine with his own and rejected it. It had taken so long for Stiles to gain control, he wasn't sharing it outside of the pack anytime soon. He was still spent from the run in. It would probably be at least a week before he was really able to resume his magical abilities.

Deaton pushed them both out of the office after Stiles vehemently and repeatedly asked for more information. Deaton's second job, besides being a vet apparently, was being the biggest pain in the ass.

Stiles took his time to complain to Derek. "It's like it sings to me, and tries to share its energy with me. Why couldn't Deaton say what it meant?"

Derek snorted, "That would be too easy. 'A door ajar, you can enter but might not leave the same way you came in.'" He quoted, his stoicness similar to the vet/emissary/man full of bullshit.

"Eh, time travel maybe? Going down the rabbit hole?" Stiles mused.

The werewolf's jaw clenched so hard Stiles was sure it was about to break. So, no time for jokes.

Suddenly, Derek's hands were on both sides of his shoulders. His fingers ran along Stiles' collarbone and seeped his skin in a deep blush. Stiles would never get used to Derek's casually scenting him.

Derek stared hard into Stiles' eyes, making the younger feel like a young child waiting for punishment. Derek's touch was punishment, an imprint of warmth that could be but didn't last. Stiles was slowly painfully untangling himself from his denial for a certain Sourwolf. Slowly. So slow he had barely realized it, until intimate moments likes this. Scenting was so casual among the werewolf pack, Stiles knew he it didn't deem him anything special.

"- are you hearing me?" Derek's voice came from far away and Stiles jerked back, blushing again. Maybe it was for Stiles' sake, but the alpha just powered through the conversation and ignored the flush of his skin.

"I-", Derek stammered and then corrected himself, "We almost lost you to pixies. I think the other wolves would mind losing you to some other alternate universe."

It took Stiles a minute to realize Derek was only half joking. He looked up, and Derek's eyes had turned their electric red. Stiles brought his hand up cautiously to Derek's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"No worries Sourwolf, I'm not going anywhere. Besides home, where I need to sleep and eat and then eat and sleep and-"

Derek laughed dryly, a tiny sound Stiles almost missed. "I think I'm sensing the pattern," his eyes flashed red again,. "Let me know if the cross changes." Stiles knew that wasn't a friendly offer, but his alpha's order.

He knew the relationship between them was something strange and intense. He didn't doubt his place in the pack, ever, and Derek fought fiercely to ensure it remained that way. Still, Stiles always wondered in far, far places of his mind, if his place was only to ensure the presence of his magic. The thought made his stomach drop and his skin crawl, and the thought only came into his mind on particularly bad days.

He gave a nod to Derek. Derek gave him one last sweeping caress across his collarbone before he went to his own car without even saying goodbye.

Stiles' skin was on fire the whole way home.