A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback so far, everyone! I'm really enjoying getting back to this fic. We'll have some upcoming sexy time and then...the first surprise I have in store for the boys. Enjoy!

Also, Incubus is available for preorder now! Just go to BigWorldNetwork DOT com and the Store, and it's there.

Once More With Feeling – Part 2 of the With Feeling series

Chapter 2: Sparring Partners

Deep breaths, Stiles told himself, deep breaths. He stood at one end of the large, open area of the den, facing off against Isaac. 'Facing off' meaning that Isaac was charging toward him at a full werewolf sprint, fangs and other beta aspects out and ready, while Stiles stood feeling like an idiot in his lacrosse pads, holding his lacrosse stick in front of him like a shield—maybe a spear? A staff? Stiles had to think quickly about just how he planned to use his stick as a weapon unless he wanted to end up on his ass—again.

Of course Derek had asked him to go first, as a 'good example' to the other humans in the pack. And of course Derek had asked Jackson to be the first wolf opposed to him. Stiles could already feel the bruises growing over his tailbone thanks to the all-out tackles Jackson had assaulted him with. And yet Derek still hadn't let him take a break!

"You know the way we move better than any of the other humans. It has to be you," Derek had said quietly when Stiles first tried to protest, rubbing his backside. "Watch, look for an opening, use what you have on you to your advantage. You may not be as strong as a wolf, but you're the most resilient, the most resourceful. You can do this."

Jackson had since traded out for Isaac, and Stiles was poised as his new opponent came at him, trying to soak in what Derek had said, to think and gauge the situation with what he had. With what he knew.

Isaac was taller than Jackson.

Isaac couldn't leap quite as high because of his longer legs.

Isaac would come in low, not high as Jackson had.

So when Isaac was just about on him, Stiles feinted right, leapt back to the left, and spun around swinging his lacrosse stick to strike Isaac along the back, who had run straight through the open space Stiles had left when he moved. Isaac was disoriented just long enough for Stiles to swipe with his stick at those long legs and drop the blonde right on his rear.

A chorus of cheers rose up from the assembled, watching pack. Even Isaac grinned up at Stiles from his position on the floor.

"Nice," Isaac said as Stiles held out a hand to heft the wolf up, not that he really needed assistance.

"Now imagine if that wasn't your lacrosse stick," Derek came up to them, "but an actual metal staff, or a blade. You could do some serious damage just by knowing your opponent. And I don't mean knowing Isaac," Derek pressed on as Stiles was about to comment. "I mean knowing your opponent. You weren't thinking about how Isaac fights, were you? You sized him up from what you know on the surface, from what you observed in the moment."

Stiles considered that. Sweat was dripping down his back beneath his pads. He blinked at Derek from inside his helmet, still a little amazed that he saw scrutiny and seriousness in those hazel eyes, sure, but also support and pride. "Yeah. I was thinking about his size, the way he was moving, and how I assumed, from that, how he'd attack."

Derek smiled. "Think you can do the same now with Jackson?" He patted Isaac on the back at the same time as he gestured Jackson to come back over.

Stiles groaned. He was exhausted, but he figured that was the point. If he wanted a break, he needed to manage the same or something equally awesome against Jackson.

Fine, Stiles thought. I can take Mr. Perfect. Now let's think about this…

As Jackson readied himself, teeth flashing white in a wide smile, and blue wolf eyes flaring to life as he transformed again on the other side of the den, Stiles tried to think like he just had with Isaac.

Jackson likes to show off. Even if Stiles didn't know him, that would be obvious enough.

Jackson will come in high. Not only because he's shorter but because he's fast—maybe faster than any of the others. He knows he can dodge in and surprise Stiles at the last minute by leaping right when Stiles thinks he's going to tackle. The tackle then comes from above and is significantly harder to block.

Jackson took off toward Stiles, not waiting for any sign of 'go' because, as Derek had said, in a real fight there aren't any rules. Stiles hunkered down. What if Jackson faked him out? Came in like before, but then did something else instead? Rather than second guess himself, Stiles studied the way Jackson was moving as he came closer, waiting for some small shift in his feet that would indicate direction.

Then he saw it—just a small, almost imperceptible pivot. Jackson was leaping for the attack! So Stiles dropped, straight down to his knees, giving him more room to swing the lacrosse stick than he'd had in this situation before, and swung up. The pocket hit Jackson right in the crotch, and Stiles' swing propelled him end over end into the pads on the floor beyond.

Jackson tumbled with a growl. Stiles jumped to his feet and fist-pumped his stick into the air.

"Yes! Eat that, J. Crew!"

The cheers and laughter from the pack was even louder than before, and although Jackson turned his nose up with a scowl, he nodded at Stiles as he shifted human again and climbed to his feet. "Yeah, yeah. Not bad, Wal-Mart."

"Dude," Stiles walked over to Jackson and patted his chest before he could escape to the sidelines, "I have some class. It's Target, not Wal-Mart." He waggled an eyebrow and grinned wide. Even Jackson had to laugh.

Stiles tore his helmet off as he followed after Jackson to where the others were waiting, Derek nodding approval and at least allowing the break this time, since he didn't immediately motion Stiles back out again.

"Good," Derek said, arms crossed and face struggling to remain impassive despite the affection Stiles could easily see reflected there, "but you can be better. Next time we'll see how you handle Boyd. Danny!" he called with a quick turn of his head, meeting gazes with the fidgeting brunette. "Let's see what you can do. Erica, you start."

Danny may as well have been shaking, but he didn't let his anxiety show on his face as he jogged out into the open area for sparring. He was decked out in his lacrosse pads as well. He probably figured Derek was going easy on him, starting with Erica, but Stiles knew better; she played dirty.

Lydia was wearing Scott's pads, impatiently waiting her turn and eyeing Jackson like she couldn't wait to lay him out on the floor—in some way or another—but Allison had refused. She said she'd faced the wolves as just herself plenty already, and intended to keep her skills up the same way. Stiles was looking forward to her turn.

"We're ordering pizza or something later, right? I'm already starved," Stiles said as he collapsed into a chair—a folding one, not one of the nice plush chairs since he was so sweaty. "I told Dad I was eating with Scott, and I'd actually like part of that statement to be true at some point."

Scott, on his feet to watch the next bout, merely chuckled.

Derek came over to stand beside Stiles' chair, on the end a few feet from the where the others were gathered. "It's a start—all this. My pack before was strong. This one can be too. This doesn't just teach you how to fight, it brings us together."

"Pack bonding?" Stiles smiled up at him.

Derek turned a raised eyebrow on him. "And the chance to understand how each other fights and moves. We need to know how to work together, how to read each other, as much as we need to fight on our own. Your mother is welcome to join us for these sessions!" he called over to Scott, about the time Erica collided with Danny's neck—thighs first.

Scott's head whipped around toward Derek. "Really? I don't know what she'd say to that, but…I think I'd feel safer if she learned a few things. Maybe she'll like seeing that we're trying to stay prepared, you know. I'll ask." He flashed that puppy smile, the one that made Stiles want to pat Scott on the head, and made him wonder if Scott's tail would be wagging if he had one.

As the evening progressed, Stiles was thankful that Derek didn't expect anyone to take a second turn, so he was able to discard his pads and watch in comfort. Derek was especially attentive with the newer members of the pack, like Danny and Lydia. Each of them—each of all of them—had certain strengths, and somehow Derek seemed to know just the right things to say to bring those strengths out in them.

Danny was a goalie; he naturally felt the need to hold his ground. But he was also a very fast dodger, built from years of diving after close-calls. Derek soon had him flipping, dodging, and dipping his way around Erica—and eventually Scott—like a dancer.

Lydia had the advantage of not being afraid of anything. Derek told her to use that, to stand her ground until the very last second and then make a bold move, a strong strike, or kick, or unexpected blow. Her style of fighting definitely matched her overall personality, and she did eventually get her chance to bring Jackson down to the ground.

He'd gotten a hold of her, arms tight around her arms and chest from behind, and instead of struggling like most people would have done, she simply went limp. Jackson fell with her, unprepared for the sudden dead weight in his arms, and she was able to get away and plant a knee in his groin. His balls were really taking a beating today.

Stiles struggled not to snicker when that thought crossed his mind.

Then he tried not to stare too hard at Derek when several decidedly more personal and naughty thoughts replaced any thoughts of Jackson, though concentrated around the same body part.

Sexual innuendo aside, Derek was really doing it, being an awesome leader with a firm but gentle hand, and getting everyone to be better and have fun at the same time. Stiles felt his own swell of pride at how Derek was stepping up to become the Alpha he was meant to be all along.

As Stiles was staring at Derek—definitely too hard, despite his best efforts—the Alpha soon caught his gaze and sauntered over. Allison was having far too much fun testing out her new rubber practice arrows on Boyd and Jackson, and the others were all exhausted and watching intently from the sidelines while Danny called in their pizza order.

No one was paying enough attention to Derek or Stiles when Derek stepped up behind his chair, leaned in, and whispered, "It's all because of you, you know? Because you make me feel stronger. You make me stronger, and we'll be a stronger pack because of it too."

Stiles shivered at the praise, warmth spreading in his chest in a way that even wiping the floor with Jackson hadn't accomplished. He glanced up at Derek, and was surprised yet again when the Alpha leaned the rest of the way down to kiss him. Right there. Where everyone could see! Okay, so maybe none of them even noticed, but Derek hadn't hesitated or cared that they saw. He kissed Stiles, soft but soundly, then pulled back with a smile.

Once Stiles found his voice again, he smirked. "You're a bit of a slave-driver and a perfectionist…but a pretty good leader. And a really awesome boyfriend," he winked.

Derek huffed, but retained his smile and didn't try to correct the term.

Later, once they had finally called it quits and were gathered around in a large circle on the sparring floor eating pizza and downing soda—after they'd all had plenty of water; Derek's orders—Derek asked if Stiles wanted to tell his dad about the wolves, so he could be involved too, like Scott's mom.

"We won't be able to keep things a secret from him forever," Derek said, which Stiles knew implied more than just the secret of werewolves, but what Stiles was doing in his spare time with one of them.

"I know, and I appreciate the offer, but…not yet," Stiles said. "I need to think about how to approach the whole thing, ease into it, ya know?"

"Your dad will react way better than Mom did," Scott said knowingly. "He's the most rational person I know. As long as you can explain it well, he'll be cool about it."

"Instead of the alternative of him freaking and starting up some kind of wolf hunt?" Jackson offered with a smug expression.

Stiles scowled. "You're the reason he's hesitant to trust me these days, you know."

"Hey, I squared all that away and admitted you didn't kidnap me. Even though technically you did."

"You were a lizard monster!"

"You could have tried telling me instead of just locking me away."

"Coz the truth works so well on you."

"You—"

"Enough," Derek interjected, tone firm and eyes flashing with just enough authority that Jackson listened without question. Even Stiles could admit he'd have a hard time arguing against Derek in Alpha mode. Derek turned understanding eyes on Stiles. "Take your time. When you're ready, we can talk to him. If you're pack, he is too. Whether he's one knowingly is up to you, but the invitation stands. And not only because he's the Sheriff and could cause more problems for us. The same invitation is open to all of you," he said to the room.

The other gathered wolves looked understandably skeptical, other than Allison, though it was more a truce with the Argents than Chris being a full member of the pack. Isaac didn't have any family left to tell. Boyd and Erica didn't have any desire to inform their neglectful parents. Lydia huffed like it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. Danny looked maybe a little contemplative about it. But Jackson merely looked sad.

It was only for a moment, but Stiles saw it, because he understood it, that longing ache for parents that weren't there. Jackson didn't even remember his real parents, but he still felt their loss. Stiles had lost his mother only a few years ago, after the Hale House fire, but even though he had been young, he remembered her like a brand in his brain and missed her every day.

He glanced over at Derek and knew that the Alpha had understood the silence and expressions from his pack just as adeptly.

"Pack means family," Derek said. "If there's ever anyone who you consider close enough to be part of this family…just let me know. Because we're in this together, and no single one of us is more important than the pack."

Stiles snorted—really, he couldn't help himself. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?" he smirked. "Though I never really saw the appeal of Wrath of Khan. Totally overrated."

Derek snapped his gaze to Stiles looking scandalized, and Stiles even noticed Derek's right hand twitch into the Vulcan greeting for a moment before he hid it by clenching his fist. "Because The Final Frontier deserves more notable mention?" he couldn't help shooting back, dripping sarcasm.

Stiles knew he could get Derek on that one. He grinned wider when he saw how the others were mostly looking on in confusion, though Isaac was snickering. Stiles mentally reminded himself that there were plenty of reasons why Isaac was quickly becoming his favorite, but getting an original series Star Trek reference was a total plus.

"Dude, you are such a geek," Stiles called out affectionately, and if only for the way Derek actually flushed with color at the mention, the others all busted out laughing.

Things continued in much the same way throughout the week, the general idea being that everyone would get together after lacrosse practice unless they absolutely couldn't. Stiles told his dad that he and Scott were part of a study group to make sure Scott actually made it to the next grade, and that wasn't a total lie. Whenever it wasn't someone's turn on the sparring floor, the rest of them spent their time studying or getting schoolwork done. They were still able to watch the pairs or groups training and keep up with school at the same time. It was…synergistic, Stiles decided.

Fun as the group dynamics and pack bonding were, however, Stiles was quickly growing anxious that there hadn't been any chance for some alone time with Derek. Derek was more hesitant to risk getting caught by the Sheriff now that he'd had more time to really think things through, so as Stiles wasn't getting any late night visits to his bedroom, he had been spending maybe a little too much time with his right hand in the dead of night, and his pillow and sheets that still smelled like Derek—younger and older.

By the end of the week, Stiles was a little worried that Derek hadn't tried anything other than chaste kisses during their practice sessions. He feared Derek might be backtracking and thinking it was best to wait until Stiles was older, which Stiles had a million arguments against but he hadn't actually brought the subject up with Derek yet.

Derek had called practice early Thursday night, and said there wouldn't be any practice Friday as he had 'something else to do'. Stiles had been whisked off by the others to grab dinner and head home before he could pry into just what Derek meant by that.

Now, Friday lacrosse practice was coming to an end, and Stiles had no plans for afterward. Everyone else seemed to have plans, none of which included him, and now that things had settled into a routine with their sparring practices, Scott was finally going to ask his mom if she wanted to join their sessions next week. Stiles' dad had normal day shifts both Saturday and Sunday, so Stiles was looking forward to some Dad time during the nights, but otherwise he had a whole weekend ahead of him with nothing to do but study.

Derek hadn't even stayed all the way to the end of lacrosse, though Stiles had been pleased to see him in the stands. He moved a little slower in the locker room because of that, not eager to head home alone, and wondered if he should just call Derek and ask what he was doing…when the lights went out.

Stiles looked around. He was the last one there. Shit. Why did these things always have to happen in the locker room? When he was alone? And stupid Derek wasn't even—

Then Stiles felt it—'it' being the only thing he could pinpoint at first, not any who, what, why, or where. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, goosebumps formed on his arms, and he shuddered. He steeled himself, trying to keep calm, keep centered, and listen for wherever his attacker might be. He couldn't hear anything other than his own shaky breaths, but he could feel…something. Something familiar. Something closely connected to him and full of warmth.

Stiles straightened. He had been about to reach in and grab his lacrosse stick for a weapon, and even though now he knew he wouldn't need it, he still took it in hand. He was shirtless yet, but freshly showered, his jeans hanging low on his hips. Slowly, he closed his locker, set his T-shirt on the bench beside him, and whipped around just as Derek pressed him back with a clang against the metal doors.

"Nice try, wolf boy," Stiles smirked. He tapped his lacrosse stick against Derek's inner thigh where it was wedged between the Alpha's legs. "What was that you said earlier in the week about…imagine if this was a blade?"

Derek's white teeth flashed in the darkness—smiling. "You sensed me. Now that we're officially mated, I guess there's no more sneaking up on you." He spoke softly, quietly despite there being no one else around, which made the darkness and their closeness seem even more suddenly intimate.

Stiles let his lacrosse stick clatter to the floor and brought his hands up to grip Derek's shirt past his open leather jacket. "Bonus," he said, and tugged Derek in for a kiss.

Being barely an inch apart in height made an embrace so easy and perfectly fit, like they were made to collide and hold on tight. Which, Stiles had to remind himself, they sort of were.

He lapped at Derek's tongue, pressed his lips to Derek's tightly, and delved in deep. Derek's stubble chaffed a little, especially against Stiles' smooth will-never-ever-be-able-to-grow-a-beard skin, but it was worth every scratch.

Derek slid his arms around Stiles' naked back and held him tight as if he feared Stiles might slip away and vanish. Stiles clung tighter to Derek's shirt and pressed his hips forward to indicate he had no plans on going anywhere.

"So…" Stiles gasped from their lip lock, breath short and lips shiny and wet, "…what did you have to do tonight?" He blinked at Derek's glittering hazel eyes that were barely an inch from his own.

When they flashed red with promise, Stiles' entire vision was crimson for a moment. "Well," Derek said in a husky growl, "I was planning on you."

TBC...

Sexy time next!