Derek was staring at the tangle of roots beneath his ankles. He heard his mother coming but didn't shift. She sat on the bench, evidently waiting for him to speak. Derek had tried sitting on the bench but it felt odd. He wanted to be closer to Laura. It was a mistake to look at her but Derek didn't know that until it was too late. His mother had talked to Curtis; it was plain in the soft lines of her face. Derek swallowed around a sigh but didn't say anything. He didn't know what there was to say. Not that he ever really did but it was even more so now. He was a mess. Such a mess. Just a tangled mass of limbs and shut down emotions and issues. Coming home was supposed to make it better and it had, it sort of had. Because Derek belonged here. He knew deep inside both heart and soul, even in his mind too, that he belonged here. But something was missing. And Derek was so turned around he didn't even know if it was Laura anymore. He'd been spending a lot of time here; he could smell himself in the bark of the tree like he was becoming a part of it. Like Laura had become a part of it. Some days it's a nice thought, part of Laura growing into this tree. Some days he has terrible visions of her body encased and twisted in gnarly roots. He focused on his mother again, blinking rapidly.
"I'm fine."
"You're better than when you left," she corrected softly. "This boy…he helped you." Derek wished it was a question. Then he'd at least have something to say or at least have an idea where this conversation was going. "You love him." It was enough of a question that Derek nodded, eyes dropping to the ground again. "You miss him." He nodded again. "As bad as you missed us?" Finally an actual question but Derek's chest drew tight with it. He wished she asked something else. Anything else.
"It's not the same," he finally told her. She waited. "I thought I would never come back here. That you didn't want me back. So it was…easier…in a way. To just shut off." His breath hitched and he hated words then. He hated what they reminded him of. He hated the way his mother pushed off the bench and all but crashed next to him, wrapping an arm tightly around him.
"God I love you so much," she breathed in his ear, voice trembling with emotion. "You were so alone and it kills me." He let himself rest against her, breathing her in. It took a long time for his heart to slow again.

"You're so much like your father," she said eventually, fingers dragging slow through his hair. "He hates talking too. But I was never fooled. Just because you don't say anything doesn't mean you don't feel anything."
"Sometimes words make it worse," he admitted on a whisper.
"I know, baby."
"It's easier not to miss him if I don't say it out loud."
"Mmhmm," she hummed in agreement.
"But I can't accept that I'm never going to see him again. I can't accept it and shut it down and why is that? I don't love him more than you. I can't." There was a long silence and Derek's chest ached with it.
"Maybe it's because you got us back when you thought you were never going to. Maybe it's too soon. But maybe you really do love him more." Derek made a wounded noise, he couldn't help it. He wasn't sure what hurt more, the fact that he thought he did love Stiles more or the fact that he couldn't seem to stop it. "I love your father more than my parents. I love you more than my parents. It's not the same type of love Derek. When you meet someone that wasn't already a part of you, like we are, and they find their way inside of you…they make their own space in your soul. It's newer and deeper and there's a reason that people spend their whole lives looking for someone else to match them." Derek's throat felt thick and raw and he didn't even want to attempt speech. "You don't have to feel guilty for loving him Derek. It doesn't mean you love us any less. And even if you did…well you're home now. I couldn't find it in me to complain."
"And I'm happy to be home," the words pushed out without him thinking them over and Derek was glad. "I just…I'm trying to put myself back together. In more ways than one."
"I know," her fingers scratched his scalp one more time before slipping out. She pushed him off her shoulder gently. "Curtis and I are tag teaming you." Derek grimaced.
"I should start running now, shouldn't I?"

"It wouldn't do you any good."
"I could probably outrun you," he muttered petulantly.
"I'm just here to get you to hear Curtis out."
"Mom," Derek groaned, feeling much younger for a moment. She rubbed his head, verging on too hard, and Derek ducked away.
"He's your brother. He's the next Alpha. You need to at least listen. You don't have to follow through but…you should hear him out." Derek didn't respond. He didn't make an effort to move either. "He's waiting for you five miles east," she pressed. When he still didn't move he received a sharp pinch to the ear, a whine slipping out as he shoved to his feet. He rubbed at it with one hand, growling just barely. "Spent too long repressing yourself," she tsked before snapping her teeth and making a shooing motion with her hand.
"I'm not used to my ears being savagely attacked," he defended himself.
"Anymore," she added, shooing him again.
"I think I can still count on one hand the times you've pinched my ear."
"Mm maybe you're right. You were always a good pup." Derek's cheeks heated and he ducked his chin, tempted to smile. "Now be a good pup and go see your brother." Derek grimaced again.
"Fine," he sighed, "but I'm only doing this to protect my ears." She rose gracefully and offered a magnanimous smile.
"You're making the right decision."

Derek followed the trail Curtis had left for him, pushing branches out of the way carefully. Silence slowly fell ahead of him and he paused to listen. He barely heard it, closing his eyes and moving on instinct.
"Nice," Curtis murmured appreciatively, stalking forward. Derek turned to see knife buried hilt deep in the bark of a tree.
"If I hadn't dodged it?" Derek questioned, pushing off the ground and brushing a hand over his chest.
"I'd have dragged you down to Jeremiah's. Obviously." Derek nearly laughed. "He's not the only healer anymore but he's still the most popular. Probably the only one you'd let touch you anyways." Derek lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Going to a stranger bleeding out didn't sound appealing. "Come on," Curtis said then, "got something to show you." He tucked his knife away with a slick little sound before jerking his head back the way he'd come. Swallowing around his dread, thick as it was, Derek followed again. Derek wondered if the clearing was natural or if they'd made it themselves. He couldn't remember. Either way there was a huge shed in on corner, targets sprinkled through the clearing.
"What is this?" Derek's feet stopped all on their own.
"This is how we protect ourselves," Curtis told him. "You wanna learn how to shoot?" Derek was already shaking his head.
"No. No I don't."
"Why not?" Curtis questioned as if he'd expected that answer. He probably had.
"Why would I want to?" Derek countered, horrified.
"To protect yourself. Protect your pack." Curtis shot him a significant glance before pulling knives from under his shirt and launching them at a target a good fifty feet away. Derek heard each one sink in, nearly shivering. "You're scared," Curtis told him. "You've been running for years. Aren't you sick of it?"
"I'm fine." He'd been telling himself that so long he was actually starting to believe it.
"What if you didn't have to be scared anymore?" Curtis questioned.

Derek tensed, hands curling. "We don't ask for trouble," Curtis added, heading towards the target. "We never ask for trouble. But if it comes to us. We handle it." Derek shook his head slowly. "Aaron likes using a crossbow. Amelia is fonder of knives. Will likes guns." He shook his head again. He couldn't be hearing this.
"When did this happen?" he questioned, feeling breathless. "When did you all become warriors?"
"Hunters came," Curtis said darkly. "After you left." He pulled his knives free before launching them into a different target, shifting like he was uncomfortable in his skin. "We killed them. Nearly lost Mom doing it too." He spun back to Derek, eyes glowing. "So what are we supposed to do? Hide out here and hope they don't come? Slink away and lick our wounds when they do? It's true most hunters abide by a code of honor but there are still hunters that don't. There are still hunters that will come after us." He rolled his neck and exhaled deeply. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way Derek. That's up to you." Derek was still trying to process. He couldn't think what to say. "If you're going to stay with us you at least need to know how to protect yourself. Everyone in our family has a base knowledge of weapons." With that Curtis was walking towards the shed and hauling the door open. He started bringing out weapons and setting them in the grass. Derek watched him do it dumbly.

Curtis showed him how to load and unload the guns and a crossbow. Sitting in the grass Derek still didn't say a word. Derek went perfectly still when Curtis offered him the hilt of a knife. He shook his head, minutely at first.
"How can you do that," the words came out mangled. "How can you use knives when-" his voice didn't so much fail him as it started choking him.
"Because knives are easy to conceal. They're quiet. And people underestimate you," Curtis answered flatly. Part of Derek thought he was being ridiculous. Knives were knives. You couldn't hold a grudge against every knife because of what one had done. His mother still used knives. Curtis and Amelia obviously did too. He couldn't make his fingers loosen. He couldn't make himself take the knife. "We can take it slow," Curtis offered eventually, withdrawing the knife to sink it deep into the grass. "Why don't we try some target practice?" But Derek's heart was racing and he felt sick. His vision swam for a moment. The wolf surged to the surface and he didn't try to stop it, letting it out and bolting instead. Curtis followed, at a distance. Derek was tempted to turn and snap at him but he had the feeling Curtis only wanted to make sure he was okay, that he hadn't pushed too hard. He had but then Curtis always had been more acceleration than caution. A lot like Derek used to be. He was considering slowing down and making his way back to the house when Curtis shoved him from behind, sending him sprawling into a creek. Curtis jumped in after him, nearly landing on top of him. "Okay the serious portion of the day is over. We can try again in a few days." Derek's eyebrows moved up. Curtis' arm wrapped around Derek's neck, the other lifting before he dragged his knuckles across Derek's skull. Derek tried to shove him off, trying not to laugh purely because he wasn't sure how to react. His older brother was giving him a noogie and now was he supposed to react?
"Curt get off!" he finally managed to protest, shoving at what he could reach of Curtis' torso. In response Curtis dunked him, Derek sucking in a huge mouth full of water. Derek managed to not panic, barely, instead he was swamped with memories of swimming with Stiles.

His limbs felt heavy suddenly, dragging sluggishly through the water. He broke the surface purely by chance, sinking back under almost immediately. Curtis' arms looped under his, yanking him back up.
"Whoa whoa," he breathed, tilting Derek's chin up. "Okay brother; let's get you out of the water." Derek let himself be guided, forcing his lungs to keep working. "We're gonna need to go shopping soon with how few clothes you brought home." Derek's lips curled just barely.
"Wasn't a problem back in Washington."
"That doesn't sound like much fun," Curtis told him, dragging him up onto the shore.
"It was alright."
"That wasn't even a lie," Curtis observed quietly.
"Washington was better than the other places." Curtis tensed next to him slowly, shoving hair off his forehead and exhaling.
"I can't imagine being without a pack." Derek sat up slowly, looking away before picking at some silt on his arm. "How did you do it?"
"I had to." There was a long silence between them.
"Derek I'm sorry," Curtis said finally. "If I ever made you feel like Laura's death was your fault. If I made you feel like you had to leave. I'm sorry." Derek couldn't look back to him, chest aching.
"No," he tried, "it wasn't- It's not- I know it's my fault. No one had to tell me. No one had to make me feel that way." Curtis made a sound that never left his throat, maybe an aborted whine.
"You don't…you don't still think it's your fault do you?" Derek didn't answer. He knew where this was going and it was pointless to have this talk again. "Derek," Curtis growled.
"She wouldn't have been out there if it hadn't been for me," he gritted in return before Curtis could say anything else. "There is no argument to make there is no one else to blame. Stop it."
"You need to talk to Dad," Curtis said tightly, shoving off the ground.

Derek basically sulked in the woods for a few hours. He made a wide berth around Curtis' trail and it took him even longer to get back to the house. It was silent when he pushed the door open, one heartbeat other than his own. Derek ignored it and climbed the stairs slowly. Yanking on his last pair of jeans he pulled a shirt out of the drawer. He wasn't surprised to see his father standing in the doorway. Neither of them said anything and Derek tugged his shirt on before rolling his neck in an effort to release the tension.
"We need to talk," he murmured, words slow and firm. Derek sighed and sank onto his bed, which his mom had made at some point. "It doesn't have to be here," his father added after a moment.
"Might as well," Derek exhaled. Much easier to pack his things and go from here. He tried not to think it. Running away wasn't the answer. It didn't make him any happier. But he didn't think he could handle this. Derek wasn't sure if his father could read him that well or if he just didn't want to have this talk here, either way he shook his head.
"Nah come on. Let's get out of the house." Derek sighed again quickly before nodding. Waiting for his dad to start talking might have been more comfortable than trying to talk to Curtis. Derek couldn't really tell because if it was it was by an infinitesimally small amount. As it was silence reined as they walked. It took Derek a while to realize that his father was waiting for them to stop and that he was letting Derek choose when that was. He stalled a few more minutes before grabbing a low hanging branch and swinging into a tree. His claws sunk into the bark and he forced a deep breath. There were nearly silent scratches as his father joined him, settling on a branch slightly higher up about two feet away.

"The time hasn't fixed it," he said eventually. Derek pulled a leaf free before eviscerating it. "It's made it better though." Derek nodded. Things hadn't been nearly as tense as before he'd left. "That's something," his father allowed quietly. Derek held in a snort, barely. "I know you don't want to talk about this Derek but I do. I want to talk about this and we need to talk about this because I mourned for your sister a long time. It took me even longer to realize that I was disrespecting her." Derek went still, almost perfectly. "I know you've gone over that night a million times. What would have happened if you hadn't wanted to go out. But Son what you need to consider is if you hadn't gone out and they'd come to the house instead." Derek stopped breathing.
"Nothing would have happened," he tried to protest; "they wouldn't have known what we were."
"You think your sister revealed herself to them? They already knew there were werewolves in the area." Derek inhaled purely because he had to, hands gripping at the branch he sat on.
"No," was all he managed.
"There's no way for us to know. But is the risk worth it?" For a horrifying moment Derek could see it. Men with guns and knives infiltrating their home, attacking them. They wouldn't have thought to try and defend themselves. Even if they had Laura would have been the only one old enough to even try and defend herself properly. "Your sister didn't think so either." His father fell silent again, maybe to try and give him time. "Why do you think she was running away from the house?"
"She was looking for me," Derek protested again.
"With hunters on her tail? Wounded? Would you have led them to her?"
"But…" he drifted, not having anything else to say.
"Smelling you probably scared her more than anything they could have done." Derek shook his head again. This went against everything he'd been telling himself for years. This couldn't be real.
"I was supposed to protect her," he managed, weakly.
"You were her baby brother. She was supposed to protect you. And she did."
"Dad." His eyes were burning wet. Derek felt like he was barely holding on.
"Is Will supposed to protect you?"
"No of course not-"
"Then stop being unfair to yourself Son."

The branch swayed dangerously as his father jumped to it, one arm wrapping tightly around Derek's trembling shoulders. "She died," his father said firmly. "It is not your fault." Derek wanted to argue but everything he used to use as argument had already been pushed aside. He felt…lost. "Will you finally listen," his father whispered, "if I tell you we never blamed you?" Derek listened to the steady thump of his father's heart. It didn't mean anything, they all knew how to lie to each other, but he still felt himself relax. "We've waited so long for you to come home. Losing you was so hard Derek."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. It's all starting to make sense now. It's going to be okay." Derek leaned on his father and they stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon.

…

Stiles swallowed nervously, running a hand over his hair. It prickled against his skin and he let it distract him for a moment.
"So…um. Awkward." Danny huffed out a laugh next to him.
"Yeah." Silence fell again and Stiles listened to the pounding music from downstairs.
"In my defense…this is my first party. And I am more than buzzed."
"In my defense it seemed like an excellent way to shut you up…five minutes ago."
"Offensive," Stiles shot at him, lips trying a smile. He could still taste Danny and it was…weird…honestly.
"Everybody's gonna think we had sex," Danny said, not looking at him. Stiles shrugged.
"Good maybe they'll ask you about the cult instead."
"Maybe it'll distract me from my ex," Danny sighed. Stiles half turned on the bed they were sharing.
"You were going for a rebound make-out too?"
"Wait what," Danny demanded eyes huge. "I thought you wanted to experiment!" he hissed.
"When did I say that?" Stiles questioned, brows shoving together in confusion.
"Wait, wait," Danny said, throwing up both hands, "you're gay?"
"Um. Bi."

Damn why was he blushing? It wasn't like he hadn't just had Danny's tongue trying to scrape his teeth.
"And you figured this out when?"
"Few weeks ago," Stiles mumbled, blushing harder.
"How? What? With who?" Stiles squirmed uncomfortably, simultaneously glad he'd stopped drinking when he had and wishing that he'd kept going.
"You don't know him."
"Oh my god. Stiles Stilinski. You did not fall in love with a boy in a cult." Danny sounded more amused than scandalized but Stiles dipped his head anyways, scratching at his hair again.
"Yeah," he admitted quietly, horrified at his own mouth. "I did." He couldn't help the sudden swell of sadness and fuck wasn't alcohol supposed to make things better? "Can you drive me home?" he demanded suddenly, eyes filling and making Danny blur.
"Uh…I think I've had a bit too much to drink…to drive the sheriff's kid," Danny said hesitantly. Stiles rolled his eyes.
"My dad's not gonna breathalize you!"
"He might," Danny protested, eyebrows halfway to his hairline.
"Great," Stiles sniffled, turning away. "How m I gonna get home now?"
"Uh Stiles…I don't think you have to worry about that." Stiles jerked to look towards the window, choking in fear when red and blue lights flared through it.
"Oh my god I'm gonna die," he gasped, flopping to the floor in a blind panic and trying to scramble under the bed.

The music snapped off and it was mass panic downstairs as people began hollering about cops and running.
"I was never here," Danny hissed, yanking the closet open and diving inside. Stiles buried his face in the carpet to muffle his sudden giggles. It was too quiet downstairs but Stiles didn't realize it soon enough to be unsettled. The door opened slowly, light from the hall burning Stiles' eyes. For the first time he realized he wasn't actually under the bed. Shit.
"Son. Why aren't you answering your phone?"
"Dad," Stiles croaked, covering his eyes with one hand, "oh my god what are you doing here?"
"I thought we agreed you'd have your phone with you. Especially since I spent $300 on it."
"Phone," Stiles echoed blankly, yelping when he was yanked up by his shoulder. "Phone phone," he deliberately avoided looking at his father's face. "It might be in my jeep?" Obviously unimpressed Stiles' father grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt before yanking him back out of the bedroom. Stiles giggled, which he would probably feel bad about later, and fell into his father's side.
"If you've been drinking you'd better not be driving," his father yelled as they descended the stairs. Stiles was glad his fellow teenagers were too terrified to laugh at him. "And you're all lucky I only have three pairs of handcuffs." They gave him an even wider berth after that announcement. No amount of whining and pouting did Stiles any good. He rode home in the back of the cruiser.

Stiles' father not only made sure to plug Stiles' phone in right next to his bed for him, he also dragged him back out of bed the next morning before Stiles even had a chance to throw up in the bathroom.
"Sit," his father ordered, pushing him towards the sofa. Eyes mostly closed and one hand pressed to his forehead Stiles whined and collapsed onto it. He fell over and buried his head in the cushions when his father whistled so loud Stiles swore his ear drums were splitting. "This is Augustus," his father told him. Stiles cracked open one eye to take in a huge German Shepherd.
"Okay?" he managed voice cracking over the word.
"Congratulations I finally got you a dog."
"Uh…" Stiles swallowed nervously watching the way Augustus was staring at him attentively. He didn't think a single muscle in the dog's body was twitching. "I'm pretty sure I wanted a puppy…when I was six…"
"Augustus is better than a puppy," his father told him, "I'll teach you the attack commands tonight." He slid his sunglasses on. "Also you're grounded. I wouldn't suggest trying to leave the house." Stiles and Augustus had a staring contest for what felt like a month before Stiles finally tried to sneak off the couch, falling twice on the way. He hurried up the steps, slamming his bedroom door behind him. Two parts pain and one part proud Stiles stumbled to the bed and collapsed back into it. His breath caught as the door opened, Augustus stopping to close it with a paw before crossing to his bed deliberately and curling on the floor.
"Oh my god you're a ninja dog," Stiles exhaled, pulling a pillow tight into his arms.

Scott didn't even feel bad for him. Worst best friend ever.
"I told you going to that party was a bad idea." Stiles scoffed.
"Like you wouldn't have been there if you didn't have to work. Plus Lydia invited me herself okay if I didn't go that would be like snubbing the entire aristocracy of our high school. Do you want to be banished back to unknown loserdom?"
"Dude you hate the attention." Stiles scoffed again, a bit more quietly.
"I don't hate it. It's a good distraction." Scott was silent a long moment.
"I'm a good distraction," he added petulantly. Stiles' lips curled.
"You know you are but you can't be attached to my side 24/7."
"We'd be the best Siamese twins ever."
"Or the worst. I'd probably trip in a lake and drown both of us."
"You sound depressed," Scott said, "I'm coming over."
"You can't. This dog is like…scary sentient."
"Sentiwhat?"
"He's really smart! And my dad said attack commands, what if he attacks you?"
"I'll sneak in the window."
"Were you not listening?" Stiles demanded, "He opened my bedroom door himself. He let himself out to pee!"
"Well why didn't you just lock him out?" Stiles' jaw worked, no words coming out. He paced a few steps in his room, pretending Augustus wasn't watching him do it. "You didn't think of it, did you?" Scott asked, entirely too amused.
"I was in shock," Stiles defended. His eyes fell on the orange bottles on his nightstand and he paused, a quiet, "Huh," falling out.
"What now?"
"I didn't take my sleeping pill last night."

Scott was silent a few beats.
"Is that a good thing?" he finally risked.
"Don't know. At least alcohol is a good substitute I guess."
"You shouldn't fall asleep drunk; alcohol lowers your breathing rate."
"Well I'm fine," Stiles said slowly, mind already trailing off.
"I know that tone," Scott sighed, "Call me back later."
"Mm," Stiles managed, finger swiping to end the call. He hadn't taken a sleeping pill going back to bed this morning either. He paced across his room again. The calendar almost seemed to taunt him. The bond between him and Derek had ended a while ago. But he hadn't been able to sleep without medication since he got home. So what had changed? The alcohol was enough to put him under, maybe. He hadn't been blackout drunk, still remembered everything that happened with a clarity he wished he didn't have. And then this morning, it would have been making its way out of his system. It didn't make sense. Unless he just didn't need the medication anymore? He wasn't sure how he felt about that theory at all. But nothing else really seemed to make sense. Nothing that he knew of had changed. It hadn't been anxiety keeping him up at night. Things were still weird but for the most part they'd gotten back to normal. He had to start attending summer school soon to make up for the missed time and yeah people were still up his ass asking questions about the cult. Even though he had made it perfectly clear that outside the station he wasn't allowed to talk about it. His father had submitted an official report to the FBI and the town of Beacon Hills had wiped their hands of the investigation. Lack of jurisdiction and all that. Though the laws had never really worked out so well in their favor before. They'd already been told that since Stiles wasn't even sure what state the cult was in the FBI wouldn't be able to do much. Perfectly fine with Stiles.

Five hours later his dad was home and he still didn't have an answer. He'd never been able to find a good source on werewolves and adding the word mate to the search certainly had not helped. Not that he was even sure this had to do with Derek. Still he just sort of had a feeling. One that he did not want to dwell on.
"This dog is super creepy," he muttered when his dad knocked and cracked his door open. His father looked nonplussed by the assessment.
"If you'd been responsible for your phone we wouldn't have to do this."
"Dad come on what are the chances I'm going to get kidnapped by werewolves again I mean really?"
"I'm not dignifying that with a response. Pizza for dinner?"
"Shouldn't I get brownie points for telling you the truth?"
"Son I lied to the FBI. Any brownie points you had have been used. In fact you're in debt. So I'm ordering pizza and wings."
"What! Dad no, eating yourself to an early grave is punishing you more than me." His father shrugged and popped open the button of his collar.
"Look at it this way if the FBI shoots me it won't have mattered." Stiles' mouth flapped open.
"That is not funny. That is so not funny I am not even admitting to being related to you anymore. I'm adopted from now on. Our senses of humor cannot possibly be from the same gene pool I refuse."
"Calm down before you have a conniption. They'd never believe the truth anyways." His father snapped the door closed and headed back downstairs. Stiles looked to Augustus, who had invited himself into Stiles' bed.
"He's in danger. Go. Stop him." Unsurprisingly, the dog didn't move. "Oh I get it you're not really my dog, you're just a spy. Awesome."

..

In one day with Augustus Stiles learned three things. Augustus was very well trained. Like he could seriously be scary. He did not appreciate Stiles dubbing him Gus Gus or sometimes just Gus. Not at all. But he still answered to it. He also listened to the sheriff over Stiles. It could be his training or it could be the fact that Stiles insisted on calling him Gus Gus. Stiles didn't really care why he just wished it would stop. Also Stiles was now allowed to leave the house, as long as he took Gus along. Scott was about as pleased as Stiles was the Gus wouldn't relinquish shotgun when they picked him up.
"Dude this sucks," Scott said, leaning forward and immediately shooting back as Gus bared his teeth.
"He wants you to buckle up," Stiles sighed, "and I have to go to school tomorrow. Tell me how much that sucks."
"I am not buckling up because your dog told me to Jesus." It was entirely disconcerting how slowly Gus turned to look at Scott. "Make him stop," Scott hissed.
"Gus, stop," Stiles said, trying to sound commanding. The dog didn't move, at all. "Gus Gus!" Still nothing. Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just buckle up. Please."
"Stupid," Scott muttered. His seatbelt clicked into place and Gus turned back around.

..

Stiles hesitated again, hanging on the edge of his Jeep.
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" He ran a hand over his head. "Gah I just feel bad leaving you here man, it's like…eighty five degrees. What if you tip over your water bowl and get thirsty?" Gus looked unimpressed. "Fine what if you spill the water and wreck my car?" He woofed softly. Stiles nearly fell over in shock. "Well but I'm gonna be in there like five hours! Are you sure?"
"Mr. Stilinski! Are you expecting that dog to talk back?" Stiles' hand found its way to the back of his neck.
"Uh…no Mrs. Carter…course not I just…he's very smart," he finished lamely.
"You'd better not be late because you're out here chatting with a dog!" she yelled before disappearing inside the building. Stiles took a few moments to sulk appropriately.
"Fine but I don't want to hear any complaints later," he finally mumbled. Gus lay down across both seats, not even looking up at him. Stiles finally made his way into the building, muttering about bad attitudes along the way.

He tried to pay attention. Really he did. But it was school. He couldn't keep still in his seat. After the eleventh time the teacher told him to stop tapping his pen she asked if he'd like to take the reading material home with him. Stiles tried not to nod too eagerly. Because of all the material he'd missed they set him up with one teacher to give him every subject. Stiles couldn't help but think if this was day one they were going to have a very good relationship. Stiles could read and research like nobody's business. He just had to be comfortable to do it. Sitting in a desk, in relative silence was not comfortable. At all. He was in such a good mood leaving school he all but danced, freezing in an awkward position when he saw a guy sitting on the hood of his Jeep as if he owned it.

Stiles crossed to him slowly, wondering why Gus hadn't scared him off.
"Uh," he let out, "you're sitting on my car." He grinned and leaned back on his hands in response.
"I know."
"Okay…" Gus sat up, watching both of them through the windshield. Stiles felt oddly betrayed. "Why are you sitting on my car?" Stiles questioned finally.
"I wanted to meet you," he said, pushing off the car and all but bounding through the remaining space between them.
"Well now we've-" Stiles cut off as the guy hugged him, really just grabbed him and hugged him, like he had the right to.
"Yeah," he said after inhaling deeply, "you're the right one." Stiles tensed and really when had he even relaxed? Not cool body. Not cool.
"Did you just sniff me," he exhaled.
"Stiles," he said, pulling back and offering his hand. Stiles watched him warily. He grinned in response. "I'm Aaron." As if that explained anything. But maybe it did. There was an odd feeling creeping over him, several things clicking into place just as Aaron said, "Aaron Hale."

A/N: ASHHHHHHHH okay so I hope the time jumps weren't too horrible

There were so many scenes I wanted to write but ended up cutting because

This story is just really getting too long

I have to try and cut it down

ALSO I FEEL LIKE THE DEREK PART WAS REALLY SIGNIFICANT SO YEAH

I'm just saying. I know some people weren't feeling it but..important.

And Stiles telling his dad the truth…yeah that wasn't the plan

I would just like to say that in this AU Stiles doesn't have a basis of regularly lying to his dad about serious matters. He's never had to. So yeah he can bullshit but his dad can also usually tell he's bullshitting. Plus Stiles hadn't seen him in like three months so yeah he was vulnerable okay.

Finally!

If there's a scene you really want to see that I've skipped over hit me up on tumblr and I'll see what I can do for you

Thank you all so so much!