He follows Scott into the hall and hears his friend sigh.
"I can't even be properly mad at you for hiding this from me," Scott exclaims. He stands with his fists on his hips with his back to Stiles. Stiles refrains from replying, waiting for Scott to continue. He doesn't jump when Scott whirls on him for the second time in ten minutes.
"You scared the shit out of me, dude!"
And he gets it, he really does. They hardly ever commission him to be at the front line with everyone else, but Stiles has spent plenty of time having the shit scared out of him by everyone else. So yeah, he gets it now. Scott hasn't had as much experience worrying about him as Stiles has had freaking out about Scott – or everyone else for that matter.
"Okay," he murmurs with his arms up in a placating gesture. He shifts his feet beneath him and notices a slight twitch in his fingers. All telltale signs that his magic's not so depleted anymore. "I really didn't know that would happen, dude, I promise," he continues.
He knows everyone in the kitchen is either tuned in or relaying their conversation to the supernatural-hearing impaired, and he probably should be embarrassed, but secrecy from each other hasn't been a thing for their pack since Allison and Isaac openly got together in front of Kira and Scott. And that had been the most awkward of awkward.
Scott studies his face with the focus of an alpha and Stiles wonders how exactly he'd missed this part of his best friend growing into himself all these years.
"We should've picked the same college," Scott murmurs pensively as they continue to stare at each other. Stiles knows that they're both doing The Cataloguing Thing - each other's similarities and differences. Noticing the slight change in the way they hold themselves, the new strength in Scott's gaze and the stillness of Stiles' hands. "I mean, I see you often, but I definitely haven't been paying attention. Obviously."
Stiles doesn't like the apology in Scott's tone. It's uncalled for. He'd been consciously hiding something, Scott shouldn't be apologetic or blaming himself in any way.
"Don't Alpha me," Stiles snaps softly. He wants the apology in Scott's tone gone. "You're not supposed to protect me from my own spark, dude. It was my choice to start learning how to use it. And I know I'm not that good at it yet, but one day I'll be able to help you."
"Stiles, you already do a lot for this pack, are you kidding me?! We wouldn't have shanked half the evil we did in the past couple of years without you, you know that right?"
"That's not the help I'm talking about and you know it," he replies. "Look, I've got friends from school, they're teaching me what I need to know…"
"—Who? Why haven't I met these people? How do you know they can be trusted? Hey, if you really want to keep learning this we can go to Deaton together. I'll help you."
Scott steps forward with his arm out, emphasising his imploring words, just as Stiles takes a step back in caution. This was not how he thought this would go.
"Hey, whoa, wait. Scott, they're not dangerous. They aren't teaching me bad things, ask Lydia, she knows! I mean, she's been to a lot of my sessions with Malia lately. She's even learned some things, ask her!"
"It's true," Lydia's voice drifts to him from the kitchen, and Scott's head tilts towards the sound, not unlike what his canine self would do.
-x-
"It's true, Scott. Don't worry, I made sure to look into everything they've been studying since I busted him a while ago."
Scott lets the calm in Lydia's voice wash over him, lets the meaning of her words sink in. Contrary to what Stiles had just told him not to do, he realises that he's still 'Alpha-ing' his best friend anyway, always on the defensive. Protective. Suspicious of the unfamiliar. And even more so because it had the power to stop his friend's heart. Literally.
He thinks of all the times that Stiles had insisted on coming to him instead of the other way around. The hastily ended phone calls.
Dude, I gotta call you back, I've got this thing…
Oh man, I need to take a raincheck bro, I was studying all night and I haven't slept. I'm wiped.
Actually, no, why don't I just come to you. I gotta go see my Dad anyway.
Stiles is looking at him with a hint of betrayal in his gaze. Scott isn't surprised. If Stiles had questioned him suspiciously the same way he'd just done, he'd react the exact same way Stiles was reacting right now.
-x-
"Idiot, I told you to stay where you were!" Stiles screams in his face. His best friend is dragging him by the shoulders into the cover of some trees. The moon is giving them just enough light to see.
"I thought it was—"
"No, dude, I told you not to move! I can't believe you didn't trust me, what the hell!"
Scott lets Stiles admonish him because, yeah, he definitely deserves this one. Not listening to that siren shouldn't have been an issue! Stiles had screamed and screamed into the spelled earpiece stuck in his head. Had yelled until he was raw in the throat.
Stay where you are, don't listen to her. Scott, stay where— but he hadn't. Had ignored his best friend's commands. And now—
"Next time, listen to my voice, Jesus Christ, dude! I was like ten feet away!"
"I know," he mumbles dazedly as Stiles drags him up against the bottom of a tall tree.
"Now, Stay. Here." Stiles orders again as they clasp each other's hands and squeeze tight.
"Okay," Scott replies without hesitation as Stiles fists the hair on Scott's forehead for a second before running off into the night with his ever-present baseball bat held tight in his grip.
The blow to his head had already healed for a while, but Scott doesn't move until he hears Stiles' all clear from the earpiece in his head.
-x-
Stiles watches the look of apology flood his best friend's face before watching Scott-the-Alpha retreat and Scott-the-Best-Friend emerge. And since when did he start having to do that consciously anyway?
"Look," Stiles starts, the caution melting out of him and his arms dropping limply to his sides. "I didn't tell you what I was doing for no other reason than the fact that I thought I was looking into nothing in the first place. And then—things started to work and –I guess I got carried away the past few months, and it was easier to keep this separate from Pack Stuff, and I'm still trying to get my head around it most times…"
The sound of his own voice pathetically fading away doesn't escape Stiles, but he doesn't know what else to say besides the truth that had just poured from his mouth.
"You know I'm not lying," he adds, eyes shifting slightly towards the kitchen, because that was meant for Derek.
Scott studies him pensively before he sighs.
"Okay dude, I trust you, you know that. But you died. And not in a sacrifice-to-save-our-parents kind of way, and not in an I-was-attacked-by-a-supernatural-creature kind of way, either. That was some serious shit in the forest, I know that and I don't know anything about magic."
-x-
Derek doesn't even bother to pretend to watch the eggs he's been scrambling for five minutes now. He's too engrossed in the conversation happening in the hallway.
"Actually, it was kind of an I-was-attacked-by-a-supernatural-creature kind of way," Stiles replies jokingly.
Derek frowns even though it can't be seen. He's surprisingly annoyed by the way Stiles keeps trying to make light of the situation.
He hears Scott's huff of frustration. Good, they're on the same page.
"Can you at least talk to Deaton about this?" Derek is already picturing Stiles' rolling eyes as Scott hurriedly adds, "for me. Do it for my peace of mind. Come on dude, you can't just spring this on me without letting me see for myself that it's really okay."
Vaguely he feels more than sees Kira squeak from beside him as she reaches past him to switch off the stove and take the spatula and frying pan out of his hands.
"Fine, okay. You all hear that?" Stiles' voice rises with the question posed for all of them. "I will go to Deaton. I will talk to him, and you all can even meet my friend because she's on her way here to come get me anyway."
Derek's brow wrinkles at the mention of this 'friend', the one that had been on the phone this morning.
"We also need to figure out who sent the witches," Derek reminds Scott without raising his voice as he finally moves from the stove and takes the coffee Lydia hands him.
"And what they were after with all that chanting," Ethan adds from his spot against the dining table.
"What? What are they saying?" he hears Stiles ask. He sees Scott's answering smile as the two best friends walk back into the kitchen together.
"Who sent the witches and why," Isaac answers Stiles as he passes the two of them with a heaping plate of food on his way to the dining table.
Derek watches Stiles slide back into his seat and wrap a hand around the coffee he'd left on the bench.
"Suggestion box is now open," Scott adds as he takes the seat beside Isaac.
Danny lets out a frustrated sigh. "Well, we thought it was pixies and that turned out to be wrong so I'm pretty sure we're back to square one. Anything else happen last night that could give us any clues?"
Before anyone can reply Stiles startles out of his seat as his phone buzzes and lets out a shrill ring. He lets out a sharp cuss as he jostles coffee onto his hand, and Derek takes it all in at once as he realises Stiles' body is back to its usual jitteriness. Stiles cusses again as he fumbles to put the phone to his ear while simultaneously shaking out the hand drenched in coffee.
-x-
"Yo," Stiles blurts into his phone as he heads back towards the hallway he and Scott just vacated. He doesn't go as far as slipping out of sight but stands by the entrance to the living room.
"I'm here," Malia replies in a bored tone of voice.
Stiles hesitates as he turns back to look at his friends, eyes randomly meeting Derek's as the older man continues to watch him.
"Listen, I need you to—"
"—Can we please first just take a second to recognise how lucky you are that I was picking up some stuff for my mom in the next town?" Malia interjects tauntingly.
Stiles ducks his head from Derek's discerning gaze.
"Yes, oh wonderful friend of mine, a thousand million stars of gratitude be given to thy mighty prowess," he recites dutifully.
"Thank you, much better," she drawls through the phone. Stiles rolls his eyes and continues, "Yeaaaah okay…I kinda—I need you to come prove to them that you're not a psycho."
He ignores the chastising frown Lydia throws his way, knowing after years of friendship how hard it is to actually offend Malia.
"Stiles, you do know we've got class this afternoon right?"
Nope, he completely forgot about it and is glad that Malia can't see the way he throws a hand up in the air as he remembers.
"We'll be done before then," he says into the phone as he shoots a questioning look at Scott who shrugs noncommittally at him.
Malia groans in frustration, and he winces at the series of cartoon images in freeze-framed acts of violence that suddenly flash into his brain before his friend disconnects the call. It probably only took up half-a-second of time, but Stiles receives Malia's frustration loud and clear.
They don't really call it telepathy, mainly because they can only send each other soundless images of things they've seen before. But after years of practice, and realising no-one else they'd come across had enough power to reciprocate, well, you kind of start developing a system of communication – especially when you can only Flash one person. A system that came in especially handy during times of deep frustration or stress – when one or the other couldn't articulate their feelings enough.
Or if one were on the opposite side of campus.
Or in Beacon Hills dealing with crazy supernatural creatures.
Or having to skip a morning class to pick up your car-less friend.
-x-
He's just walking into his dorm when a static screen fills his vision. Stiles blinks it away and slams his door shut.
A black door with a fist knocking on it.
Stiles drops his bag to the floor and kicks off his shoes.
A dog on its hind legs staring at him with its tongue sticking out of its mouth. A kid on a pogo stick, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. The sun—as if he were looking directly at it. Elmo—waving and laughing. Stiles asleep—and then a feminine finger reaching out and pulling open one of his eyelids. Fireworks. A Starbucks Caramel Macchiato. Feminine arms swinging a baseball bat towards his fa—
Stiles automatically turns away with a grunt and a hand to his head. "Jesus, ow!" – not that it hurt or anything, but the brain was a wonderful thing connected to pain receptors and—
His door swings open with a loud bang. Malia stands in the doorway excitedly, book bag hanging from one arm and other arm loaded with books.
"How was that?!" She asks enthusiastically.
Stiles replies with a Flash of his own. The thumbs up emoticon from Facebook popping up in a message box.
"Excellent!" she praises with a smile.
-x-
Derek smells her before anything else, and it disconcerts him when he realises that Stiles' new scent is thinly laced with this sweet, rich…honey.
"Ohhh, that's what that is!" Scott murmurs a second later, realising the same thing.
"So, I've got work in an hour," Isaac announces.
"Me too," Aiden chimes in.
Scott waves a hand at them, "you guys get going, we'll keep you posted. I'd like for Lydia to stay though?"
Lydia looks away from where she's trading looks with Stiles and nods in compliance.
Derek rounds the bar and leans a hip on it as the rest of the group starts to disperse, grabbing pieces of bacon or cups of coffee on their way out. Kira pecks a kiss on Scott's cheek and offers Stiles a gentle punch to the shoulder as she passes him. Derek tracks Stiles' movements as he watches the younger man cross the dining room again.
"Okay, so I just got off the phone with Malia, she's cool with talking to Deaton. I told her we can meet you all at the clinic, it's just that we've got class this afternoon and can't stay long."
"Oh, can I grab a ride? Aiden's taking my car," Lydia chimes in.
"Sure," Stiles replies, like this isn't the first time Lydia's grabbed a ride before.
Derek finally feels the urge to say something as he sees that Scott's got a mouthful of bacon and eggs.
"Scott and I will meet you at the clinic."
"Half hour okay?" Stiles asks back, already making his way towards the door with Lydia shouldering her handbag and trailing him.
Scott hums in agreement as he takes the fist-bump Stiles offers him.
As the door shuts behind them, Derek wanders over to one of the windows and tries not to look like a creeper as he peeks through his half open wooden blinders.
There's a girl with long brown hair dressed in a purple tank top and denim shorts outside his house. Her arms are crossed and she's busy browsing the phone in her hand, body leaning casually against…Stiles' jeep.
Derek watches as her head turns up at the sound of the front door. Lydia gives a small excited squeal as she makes her way towards the girl. Malia smiles back and accepts Lydia's hug and quick cheek-to-cheek greeting. He watches as Stiles hangs back and lets the girls finish. Lydia helps herself into Stiles' jeep as Malia moves on towards Stiles. He notices the way they stare at each other for a second before the girl reaches up and fists a hand into Stiles' still-bed-mussed hair. She ducks her head a little to meet his lowered gaze and Derek almost misses the soft murmur.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," Stiles responds calmly.
Derek watches as she steps closer, tugs a little on the sleeve of Stiles' shirt with her other hand.
"So, that was a big one," she offers cautiously as the hand in his hair falls to his shoulder and rubs a little.
"Yup," Stiles responds, still motionless. Derek isn't used to the shortness in Stiles' replies.
He watches as Malia rolls her eyes at Stiles, turns, and heads back to the jeep. "I am driving, because there is no way we're gonna make it to that clinic alive if you drive while you're filling me in on what happened."
Derek hears a faint snort from Lydia in the back seat before Malia's starting the engine and revving it like she's had enough practice with how to handle the pile of junk Stiles calls his baby. He sees Stiles slightly shake his head before rounding the front of his jeep and slipping into the passenger seat.