Chapter Text
Derek stepped awkwardly around the bandage packages that littered the floor and slowly picked up the empty bottle of vinegar and settled it on the bench. He picked up the towel with bloodied spots and tossed it in the trash, re-capped the bleach before it could spill with its loose lid. He settled in the patching arm chair, and waited.
He didn’t wait long.
“Jesus fuck!”
Isaac’s back smacked into the doorframe and Derek spared a wince for the younger boy.
“I d-don’t have any money,” he stuttered out.
“I’m not here to rob you.”
“I...”
“How long has your father been beating the crap out of you?”
Isaac went a very strange sort of pale, his knuckles going white on his the doorhandle, but he said nothing. Derek rose slowly from his chair.
“I never thanked you for saving Stiles.”
“You’re Derek?” Derek nodded and Isaac chewed the inside of his lip, his grip on the doorhandle loosening.
“I know you’ve been… talking, hanging out. He voiced his concerns to me that you seemed like you needed some help and we talked it over. I’m here to… make you an offer, and a promise.”
“What do… what kind of offer?” Isaac asked with narrowed eyes.
Stiles stepped out from behind Isaac, putting a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder and making him jump, giving Stiles a confused look.
“The kind of offer you really can’t refuse,” he said with a grin, pushing the door shut behind him.
------------
The months following the death of Peter Hale and the dramatic capture of serial arsonist Kate Argent were hectic.
They found Kate, singed and wild eyed in a cabin 10 miles north.
Kate’s sentencing went a little bit like this:
Officer: Anything you say or do can be—
Kate: THEY’RE WEREWOLVES
Officer: Okay I’ll need to swap these cuffs for a straitjacket please?
Stiles had to give her some credit – after they started looking, evidence against Kate was piling up, and not just for the Hales. Missing persons, unsolved murders, various crimes and assaults; dozens that linked back to Kate Argent littered the East Coast. There was no wriggle room for that. She’d be going away for life. That was unless she was clinically insane.
She was still going away for life (well… 30-40 years minimum in a high security mental institution, so most of her life), except now she was going away into a cushy padded cell which allowed regular visits from her family and decent meals.
For months the news was plastered with her photograph, filled with the story of a seemingly nice young lady who believed that her last name meant that she was born to kill the creatures of the night. They called her ‘Arson Argent’ and reporters crawled Beacon Hills for tidbits and headlines.
Allison was accosted daily, wherever she went, people shouting insults and questions, trying to ask ‘are all the Argents ready to snap’. Isaac had people physically trying to pull him aside to get him to talk about his ‘heroic rescue’ and ‘how he felt about confronting a serial killer’. Reporters screamed questions at the dark windows of the Stilinski household, trying to talk to The Boy Who Made Arson Argent Explode and The Last Hale.
They cornered the Sheriff exactly one time. After that, every reporter mysteriously left town within the week (except for a few of the heavily dogged ones which got slapped with some serious fines and a couple of threatened arrests before they left with their tails between their legs.)
Stiles and Isaac had never been so popular before in their entire life; Allison had never faced such merciless bulling. They tried – Scott, Stiles, Isaac, even Lydia (who, let’s face it, was a surprise but then after a day not a surprise at all) would corner Allison’s bullies and shut them down. Allison had taken care of it at first, but when someone had gotten physical and she had returned the favour, rumours that she was ‘just like her crazy aunt’ spread like wildfire.
She kept her chin up, walked the halls hand in hand with Scott, with Isaac bumping her shoulder and Stiles slinging his arms around as many of his friends as he could reach. Lydia would walk in front like the god damn Queen of the Hallways that she was with Jackson on her arm and Danny by her side and verbally eviscerate anyone who so much as sent a dirty look their way. If anyone was a survivor it was Allison, but her friends sure as hell helped.
There had been a moment, barely a faction of one where Allison had come to Stiles with wet eyes and tried to apologize for something that wasn’t her fault but Stiles stopped her before she could even get the words out. He smiled and hugged her and told her not to worry about it because it’s not like she knew or could stop Kate.
She’s given Derek a smile as she left and he’d returned it, even if it was small – progress often started that way.
It was actually because of the bullies that they met Erica and Don’t-Call-Me-Vernon-Stiles-No-Really-I-Will-Hurt-You-Derek-Be-Damned Boyd. A group of guys cornered Allison after school, wanting to see if Argents really could survive flames. Before Scott could so much as raise his voice, Boyd was there, getting his fist well acquainted with some faces and Erica was grabbing Allison’s arm, pulling her to safety and quickly trying to put out the fire that had already started. It was three against one, and even though the other boys threw themselves into the fray (the girls would have joined, but they were putting out fire and getting a nurse) Boyd probably could have taken the attackers down himself.
The three fire starters were expelled (when they got out of hospital) and Erica and Boyd joined their ‘gang’ (Isaac would stifle giggles and whisper ‘pack’ to Stiles when he thought he could get away with it until everyone else joined him). Erica received a makeover a la Lydia and made the whole school forget that she was epileptic just by walking down the hall.
Isaac’s giggles said it all -- they were a pack.
-----------
“Isaac, off,” Stiles said, shoving at the blonde, who poked his tongue out and snuggled deeper into Stiles’ stomach.
“No. Not a dog,”
“Actually,”
“Derek on a scale of 1 to 10 how angry would you be if I bit Stiles every time he made a dog joke?”
“That would just prove my point!”
“About a 3,” Derek called back from the kitchen and Stiles made an affronted noise while Isaac laughed.
“Worse. Pack. Ever,” Stiles muttered, crossing his arms over Isaac’s head, attempting to smother the wolf in his hoodie. Isaac just seemed pleased.
Derek wandered back out from the kitchen and flopped onto the couch beside Stiles, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and sticking his nose into Stiles’ neck.
“Okay you guys know that people think we’re some weird threesome when they see you doing this right?”
“This is pack bonding, there’s nothing sexual about it,” Derek muttered, but his lips scrapped against the spot behind Stiles’ ear and forced him to repress a shiver.
“Okay no flirting when I’m lying on his stomach,” Isaac muffled out, disgusted.
There was a triple knock on the door, making Stiles jump but the wolves didn’t move and he sighed, lifting his feet up to the coffee table and relaxing back into the couch.
“What, no warning?” he asked his wolves judgementally as Derek shouted for the knocker to come in.
Derek’s apartment (pause for effect because Derek had moved out and gotten his own apartment, hark the angels sing Stiles could jerk off without being judged again!) had become the hang out hot spot. It was a huge loft, positioned perfectly between the school and the police station, making it Stiles’ favourite place to be, ever. And it had wi-fi. Really, really good wi-fi.
Stiles got a key to the apartment the day Derek got his. Isaac got a key two days later and moved in three days after that.
It wasn’t hard to convince the Sheriff to pull some strings for that – Mr. Lahey was subject to formal charges, but none of them stuck because Isaac didn’t have any marks (the negative of werewolf healing in this instance). There was enough suspicion though for Isaac to request emancipation, which was granted with conditions, one of which was that he must share accommodations with a reputable adult who was respected by the community. Who better for that than a young deputy with a flawless record and close ties with the Sheriff who had supported Isaac through the entire emancipation process?
Stiles had laughed for an hour when he found out, not because of the situation, but because somewhere out there a judge had a little piece of paper that listed Derek as a “reputable adult respected by the community” when Derek still thought cheese from a can was a good pasta topping.
Speaking of Derek’s job – Derek’s. Job.
He started training the day after Kate’s trial (which was less of a trial and more of a sentencing – they didn’t even need witnesses and there hadn’t been a jury) and flew through the physical side of things. He’d actually studied (studied. At the table. With papers and books and a little frown,) for the other side of things. Stiles’ was helpful here because he knew the codes by heart and procedures by memory and it was something he was actually interested in so he stayed focused for longer than a second. Derek passed that with flying colours too.
The graduation ceremony was four months after Kate had been put away; six months after Stiles had gotten out of hospital; and seven and a half months since Kate had hit Stiles with her car.
Derek was one of three new recruits but he was still ‘top of his class’, whatever that meant. That didn’t stop the ‘pack’ from erupting when he was officially given his badge and putting the rest of the crowd’s polite clapping to shame.
He was pleased, Stiles has photos to prove it.
The effects of Derek in a uniform still hadn’t worn off. That was nearly six months ago.
Today?
“PILE ON THE ALPHA!”
“N—“
Stiles didn’t even get to finish the word before Scott was flinging himself onto the couch, followed closely by Erica and Danny, Allison jumping on right as Stiles’ groaned under the weight. Boyd sat in the spare arm chair because he was responsible and mature and also weighted a freaking tonne so Stiles would die.
“Puppies,” Lydia tusked as she walked thought the door, Jackson following behind her with his arms full. He gave the pile of bodies a contorted look that was half longing and half disgust – he was still an asshole but now Stiles could glare and he would apologize in his own Jackson-y way.
“Alright, alright, off,” Stiles demanded, shoving, and the pack scattered, tumbling to the ground or slipping into long claimed chairs, wolves and humans alike, leaving Derek to lounge over Stiles as much as he liked now that Isaac had wriggled his way under Scott’s arm in the corner.
Isaac, Derek, Erica, Boyd, Jackson and Danny had already accepted the bite. Lydia had been bitten but was immune (which, was the most stressful two weeks of the whole year and who knew that immunity existed…??), Scott was still thinking it over (he wanted to wait until he’d graduated because he really wanted to be a vet and thought that dealing with wolf issues would make studying harder, and while he already found studying difficult he was pretty smart and got decent grades), Allison had been forbidden the bite but was going to wait with Scott anyway and Stiles had flat out said no when Derek asked because he, quote, ‘didn’t need no fancy wolf powers to kick-ass and keep the pups in line.’ Which was true – the wolves responded to Stiles just like they would a full Alpha, the rank carrying down the line because Derek still submitted under him.
Erica took great pleasure in being the only female wolf and proving she was just as tough as the boys while simultaneously being able to enjoy shopping with Lydia and batting her eyelashes to get her way.
“What are we watching tonight? Who’s turn was it to pick?” Stiles’ asks as he shifts himself into Derek’s side, rubbing a thumb lightly back and forth on Derek’s knee.
“Boyd’s,” Derek murmurs, sleep already hinting at the back of his tone – Derek never failed to fall asleep during movie night and always cuddled himself up to Stiles to do it.
“Star Trek,” Body voiced.
“Not even surprised,” Erica snorted.
“The new one?” Isaac asked.
“Yeah,”
“Mmmm Chris Pine,”
“Please, Lyds, have you seen Quinto?” Stiles leered and Derek pinched his side.
“You’re biased because of the eyebrows,” Lydia sniffed.
“Hey!”
“Uh, I think you’re all forgetting about Zoe Saldana,” Allison said, her voice a little dreamy.
There was a collective sigh of ‘yeah,’ before Boyd stood, breaking them out of separate mini daydreams.
“I’m putting it on,”
“Excellent.”
----------------
Derek pulled back, sucking in a deep breath while Stiles mouthed down his jaw to his neck.
“Shouldn’t you be heading home,” he gasped out and he could feel Stiles’ smile against his skin.
“Curfew was moved up an hour ‘cuz we’ve been so good,” Stiles slid across Derek’s thighs but continued to keep a gap between their hips, “frustratingly, agonizingly, mercilessly but… a necessary good.”
“Sorry,”
“Don’t apologize,”
“Sor—“ Stiles cut him off with his lips, catching the edge of teeth.
The pack had cleared out about half an hour ago, Scott dragging Isaac with him, leaving them blessedly alone in the loft.
“Don’t. Apologize,” Stiles slid his hands down Derek’s neck, stoking his pulse, “just a little bit longer – barely two months. I’m kinda eager to be able to say we succeeded actually. Almost fifteen months, no below the belt action and we’re still in a semi-healthy, dedicated relationship? We deserve awards or something.”
“Yeah, Isaac’s just happy we’ll stop smelling like ‘desperation and pathetic longing.’”
“Why did you teach him to scent emotions, why,”
“but I don’t think he realizes that we’ll just start smelling like sex.”
“Yeah,” Stiles breathes, eyes sparkling.
It had been something they hashed out early (as in Stiles was still hospitalized early) in their relationship.
No sex.
No anything that could resemble sex.
It wasn’t because they were feeling particularly puritan or anything, and it wasn’t because the Sheriff gave them a stern look (although he did do that). It was personal for them, with both the obvious reasons (see Derek: statutory rape already happened once here) and subtle reasons (see Stiles: not wanting to take advantage with Alpha command power)
They still made out like horny teenagers because at one of them still was, Derek still left a litany of marks along Stiles’ collarbone (and throat when it was winter or he was feeling particularly possessive because someone hit on/asked out Stiles), and they still shared a bed whenever they could even just for sleep.
Stiles’ jerk off rate skyrocketed and even though he’d never admit it Stiles was ninety per cent sure Derek’s did too.
The Sheriff was both supportive of their relationship and wary of it, providing curfews (ten on weekdays and Sunday, two on weekends unless permission for a sleepover was granted. Sunday night dinner was mandatory for pack. No sex under his roof: rules are subjective to change without warning or reasoning)
They’d told the Sheriff everything (EVERYTHING) when Stiles got out of hospital.
Now that? That had been… interesting.
They started off easy – got the Sheriff to sit down, sat opposite him and then… said nothing.
It was really hard to start that kind of confession.
“Are you pregnant?” was how the conversation started.
It pretty much went downhill from there.
-------
“What? No!”
“Why do you make it sound like that’s a possibility?”
“It’s not! Still a virgin here!”
“Stiles,”
“You should be defending my honour!”
“I don’t have too, you’re a guy.”
“I… oh.”
His Dad was giving him an exasperated but also bemused look while Derek just rested his forehead on the table.
“This is going so badly,” he moaned and Stiles rolled his eyes.
“Just spit it out whatever you’re gonna say if it’s really that bad.”
Derek lifted his head to meet Stiles eyes and Stiles shrugged.
“Okay, so,” Stiles started slowly, “remember how Derek’s Uncle had that psychotic break after being… uh… experimentally overdosed by his crazy ass nurse? And you know… died in the hospital?”
“Vaguely,” his Dad grilled out – that had barely flown as an excuse. Luckily, the nurse had committed suicide (which seriously you should never be able to start that kind of sentence with ‘luckily’ how was this their life) and left a note ‘confessing’ to using Peter Hale’s comatose body as an experimental platform and that she ‘couldn’t live’ with the results that she produced. They were pretty sure the note was forged, because it was found on her cell phone but the suicide portion of things was very, very real.
“Uh. Well. Things were actually… different than what we told you. Just a touch though.”
“How different?”
“Well… you see,”
“I’m a werewolf and so was he and so were my entire family and that’s why Kate killed them.”
They sat in silence for a minute while the Sheriff looked between them.
“That’s what you’re going with.”
Stiles elbowed Derek in the side.
“Do the thing,” he hissed
“You told me not too!” Derek whispered in return.
“I changed my mind,”
“What happened to ‘he has a weak heart and I don’t want you killing him with your growly lack of eyebrows!?’”
“Boys, I can hear everything your saying,”
“Don’t freak out,” Stiles begged and beside him Derek shifted.
They sat, still and silent, until the Sheriff could close his mouth and Derek shifted back.
“Uh. Questions?” Stiles said, waving his arms like a shiny TV showgirl.
“I… don’t… but where do your eyebrows go?”
And that’s how the Sheriff found out about werewolves.
------------
It took a few days before the Sheriff found Stiles in his room and sat down on the end of his bed.
Stiles span around in his chair, fiddling with a pen to distract himself.
“Ready to talk about it?”
“I want to clarify… some things. Not about werewolves,” he said the word like one would curse and Stiles already knew that he wasn’t going to ask about werewolves because he’d been dropping information questions on the two of them since he found out and never looked this serious, “just in general.”
“Okay…”
“You and Derek… how, uh,”
“Long have we been together?”
“Yeah. That.”
“Since the hospital. You kinda walked in on our first kiss.”
“Oh.”
“Yup.”
“So you two haven’t…”
“Hav… oh my god.”
“I don’t want to know,”
“No! No, no, no. Uh. We… won’t. Not for a while.”
“I have no idea what you mean by that.”
“We’ve talked about it. Kate… uh… well when Derek was well… my age, she…”
“Oh. Aw crap.”
“Yeah. Just – trust me. Neither of us is ready right now, and nothing will happen until I’m 18 at least, honest promise right there.”
Stiles pointedly looked down at his pen, pulling it apart and putting it back together again before his Dad spoke again.
“Kate… she’s not crazy, is she?”
Stiles felt himself bristle.
“She’s crazy as all hell. What she did was crazy and wrong… but she’s not wrong, technically, with her information.”
His dad nodded with a neutral expression.
“And uhh… hunters?” Stiles nodded and he continued, “like her, could they hurt you? And Derek? Like she did?”
“No. I have a treaty set up with the Argent family. Any hunter that comes through town is their responsibility and any hunter who breaks it is liable to dual punishment from both the Argents and the Hale pack.”
His Dad blinked at him and Stiles realized too late he was using his authoritative Alpha voice.
“I feel like you grew up without me kiddo,” his Dad sighed, rubbing his eye.
“I’m not grown up yet,” Stiles said quietly, “I still don’t know what I’m doing, not fully. I still need you. I’ve got… all this pressure, people looking at me and expecting me to be responsible and mature and I gotta look after my pack and I know it’s meant to be a two way street but we’re not there yet and… I still need you to be my Dad. I need you to take care of me. Keep me sane. Keep me human. I need you to just… you’re… proud right? That I’m… doing this? I’m not screwing up completely? Am I?”
“Come here,” his Dad stood up, arms wide and Stiles met him halfway, accepting the hug gratefully.
“I am proud of you. And I love you, you know that too right?”
Stiles squeezed a little tighter.
“Yeah. Yeah Dad I know. I love you too.”
-------------
Expanding the pack had always been a touchy spot with the hunters.
Well… hunter.
Chris was more than a little bit apprehensive (that’s putting it lightly) about the fact that there were a bunch of bitten teens running around Beacon Hills, going to class, watching movies, hanging out with his daughter. Victoria (who, let’s face it, way scarier than Chris, Stiles never ever wants to have a meeting with her again) was even less accepting.
Negotiations when concerning the pack’s expansion were always in the running, even when there weren’t more people being added. Chris was just angry and putting up a fuss – but none of the new wolves had done anything even close to breaking the rules he’d set down and all of them and been quickly anchored to the rest of the pack, keeping things safe and in control. Things became more complicated when Allison was involved but even her parents couldn’t deny the fact that the pack had stuck strong beside her when she needed them most.
The pack was content; they didn’t need or want to expand anymore.
Now, if only the hunters would understand that.
“You know, this all seems freakishly familiar,” Stiles muses, leaning up against the side of his jeep. The numbers at the gas pump ticked over while the car filled, blocked in on either side by the monstrosities that the hunters liked to drive.
It was even the same gas station, although it was only just dusk, the sun still setting behind the trees. It was very full circle.
“Did you guys follow me around until I came to this gas station or did you just sit and wait for me to show up?”
“We’re a little more opportunistic than that.”
“Sure you are Chris,” Stiles pulled the pump from his car, sliding it back into the holder, “what’s so important that Vicky had to send out her best hammers?”
Stiles had learned that women are the leaders and men are the soldiers in the Argent family during their first official treaty meeting and had found it wildly entertaining for the rest of their meetings – he knew better than anyone with the women in his pack that, especially Allison, that women could be the most valuable soldiers, just as they could lead. He just found it entertaining that Chris didn’t think the same.
The mention of his wife sent a twitch through his eyebrow.
“Your birthday.”
“Awwww, thanks man. But it’s not for another two weeks and sorry, you’re not invited to the party.”
“You’re turning 18. Big milestone.”
“The vague beating around the bush villain thing isn’t as cool as you think. Just say what you want to say and leave, I have a date.”
“Are you taking the bite?” he asked bluntly.
Stiles sighed.
“Why do you keep asking me this? I’m starting to think you want me to be bitten more than any of the wolves do,” Chris took a small step to the side and Stiles’ narrowed his eyes, years of being a cop’s son honing in on the movement and analysing it six ways from Sunday.
“You do don’t you. You’re hoping I’ll take the bite because if I do, I’ll technically be a Beta under Derek.”
“We don’t want any wolves, that seems rather counter-productive to our cause, don’t you think?”
“No. Because you deal with the Alpha of the Hale Pack and you retain the right to refuse communication with anyone other than the Alpha. If I got bit you’d want to deal with Derek and Derek alone because you know you’ve got the emotional ammunition to manipulate him easier,” Stiles gave a low whistle around a grin, “your wife really does go for the balls, doesn’t she?”
“You’re pushing the line, Stilinski,”
“Says the man corning a teenager at a gas station, Argent. Alpha or not, you’ve stopped me because you think I’m alone and vulnerable. You should know by now that the Alpha is never alone,” as if right on cue (although more likely because they were listening) there was a howl from the forest on their left. The two younger hunters Chris had brought with him jumped, whipping around towards the noise, but both Chris and Stiles remained still, “and to clarify for your dear wife, I will never, ever, put myself in a position which would make me vulnerable or endanger my pack or the residents of our territory. Including, but not limited to, receiving the bite unless it was completely necessary.”
“You have guard dogs?” one of the men – boys really – sneered.
“Don’t say it like you’re not one yourself, kid,” Stiles snapped, “now I’m gonna go and pay for my gas and you’re going to get in your cars and drive away because we’re done here. Tell Victoria that I’m human and will remain that way until I so choose, which frankly, could be never. I’m almost ashamed of you Chris, falling back on bad habits like this,” Stiles tusked as he wandered, calm as ever, around the older man and towards the station doors, “for a moment I thought you might have been redeemable. Almost human.”
------------
“Watcha doing?”
“Homework,” Stiles didn’t even look up from his desk to reply to his father, who was hovering in the doorway.
“Okay. Well… Think fast,”
The box his father threw bounced off the middle of his forehead – luckily it was the flat side.
“Ow! I should report you for chil… these are condoms. Why are you throwing condoms at my head.”
“It’s your birthday in a few days.”
“I kno… oh my god.”
“I thought you should be prepared.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“And I thought you should know that I go into the chemist regularly and the girl behind the counter mentioned that my son’s ‘cute deputy boyfriend’ neglected to buy some when he picked up other supplies,”
“Stop talking right now,”
“But I figured I could cover him this once,”
“This is the most horrifying moment of my existence,”
“I thought you’d be smarter about being safe with sex kid. I know you two have been waiting but still… I mean… it’s just cleaner, not even in a disease way, just in a general mess way,”
“OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH THANK YOU,”
“And they never tell you that in school, how messy sex is,”
“Dad!”
“Made my point yet?”
“Yes. With a bulldozer. And so I say, thank you for the gift but,” he tossed the box back, his Dad catching it easily, “I have this one covered.”
His dad raised an eyebrow.
“We made a deal, I get condoms, he gets the other stuff, oh my god,”
“Oh. Okay then.”
“Yep.”
“Well. Good talk.”
“Not by any definition.”
----------
“This is just like you getting married.”
Stiles started, stumbled a little because gravity, then squinted at Scott.
“How is my birthday anything like me getting married?”
“’Cuz everyone in the room knows you’re getting laid tonight,” Scott finished with a sneaky smile.
There was a handful of cat calls and wolf whistles following the statement from those who had the hearing to have picked up on it.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Stiles said rolling his eyes, “you all had your chance to get up on all this,” he waved a hand, indicating his whole body and Scott snorted, “but it’s too late now and you’re all jealous.”
“I like to think that it’s been too late for longer than right now,” Derek muses from beside him and Stiles jumps, grabbing at his heart.
“How many times have I said not to do that?!”
“A lot. But it’s fun.”
“You know what? I take it back. Everyone still has their chance. Come on, everyone up, my boyfriend is a big weeny,”
“Weeny, really?”
“And is undeserving of the epitome of physical perfection I embody,”
“Cocky,”
“You’re cocky,”
Derek pauses, like his deep in thought before shaking his head.
“Nope, too easy,”
Stiles blanches because really, it would have been but he’s on a roll,
“Ugh, and you’re gro—mmmppphhhh! Mpph mppphhhummmpf mmooouunnnfoo!!”
Derek pulled back when the whistles picked up again.
“Stiles I am kissing you. Stop trying to talk.”
“I am objecting,”
Derek nosed along Stiles jaw.
“No you’re not,”
“Okay I’m not but you’re still a weeny,”
“Uh hu,”
“And you’re whipped,”
“Duh!” Isaac shouted from across the room and Derek sighed into Stiles skin.
“Don’t care,” he muttered, pulling Stiles closer.
“Annnnddd you’ve entered cutesy cuddle monster mode.”
Derek’s forehead thumped against Stiles’ shoulder while the wolves howled with laughter.
“How does your brain even work,” he complained while Stiles snickered.
“At this point? It’s like ninety per cent caffeine dude.”
“And the other ten per cent?”
“Porn.”
“Naturally.”
--------
Contrary to popular belief, they don’t have sex that night.
The party wound down and Derek and Stiles headed off to bed where they cuddled like a freaking married couple and fell asleep to New Girl playing on the television in the bedroom.
Stiles stared at the ceiling contemplating this when he woke up, waiting for Derek to join him (it was a heartbeat thing – Stiles always woke up first and Derek would follow when his mind heard the change in Stiles’ heartbeat. It was both cute and annoying, ‘cuz Derek always woke up if Stiles’ needed to pee.)
“Stop thinking so loud,” Derek complained when he finally entered the waking world, snuggling his head into Stiles’ chest, “’s too early.”
“Have we become too emotionally connected for sex?” Stiles’ drops out and Derek raised his head lazily.
“Have you decided never to have sex again?”
“No,”
“Well neither have I so, no.”
“But we didn’t have sex last night.”
Derek frowns, his head swaying lightly – it was too early for Stiles to be using his unique kind of logic.
“So?”
“So, we fell asleep. We had permission and opportunity and supplies and stuff and instead we watched Zooey Deschanel be the weird quirky girl every hipster guy wants and we didn’t even make it to the end.”
“I don’t understand the problem here.”
“We’re a forty year old married couple. Forty year old married couples don’t have sex.”
Derek rolled, flattening Stiles against the best and wriggled until he was comfortably covering the younger man’s body entirely with his own.
“Does it feel like I don’t want to have sex?”
“Why must the first time I feel your cock be in response to an argument,” Stiles sighed dramatically, running his hands up Derek’s side and pulling them through Derek’s hair so that it stuck up in the wrong direction.
“The appropriate answer was ‘no’,” Derek muttered while his eyes sunk closed under the attention, ducking his head down under Stiles’ chin to kiss along his jaw.
“Ahhh but when have I ever been appropriate?” Stiles chuckled, tipping his head back so that Derek had easier access and spreading his legs a little wider.
“Right now, when you could be touching my dick but instead we’re continuing to argue,” Derek nipped at the patch of skin behind Stiles’ ear and the younger man gasped.
“I TOLD YOU WE’RE A FORTY YEAR OLD MARRIED COUPLE!”
“I don’t think forty year old married couples do what we’re doing,” Derek reassured, shifting to roll his hips into Stiles’ and earning a light purr before Stiles make a choking sound and Derek pulled back, concerned.
“Great now I’m picturing forty year olds doing what we’re doing. You killed my boner.”
“You sure?” Derek smirked, pushing a hand down between them, skating it under Stiles’ boxer briefs and making him go completely still.
“Oh my god,” Stiles’ groaned, melting into the bed.
“Definitely time for you to stop thinking,” Derek murmured as he leaned to the side, propping himself up on his forearm and giving Stiles a few firms strokes.
“Make me,” Stiles offered eloquently, earning a short laugh from Derek followed closely by a kiss. Stiles hummed into the kiss, pleased.
“You taste gross Mr. Morning breath,” he said in chipper voice and Derek snorted, leaning in again.
“So I was thinking,” Derek murmured as he pulled back a second time.
“You just said to stop doing that,” Stiles snarked and Derek gave a light squeeze for good measure just to watch Stiles squirm.
“I was thinking you should fuck me.”
Stiles sat up, forcing Derek to lean away, his hand slipping out of Stiles’ boxers. You could practically hear the scratch of the mood coming to a halt.
“Really, that’s how we’re starting?”
“Just hear me out with this.”
“I told you,”
“It’s been over six months since you last accidentally Alpha ordered me Stiles, you’ve got a handle on it.”
“I’m not going to ri—“
“You won’t risk anything -- you’re just going to listen to me okay? That’s it. Do everything I say.”
“But…”
“I was talking to Erica,”
“You were talking to Erica,”
“And Isaac,”
“You spoke to Isaac about our sex lives?! He’s a baby,”
“And they told me some stuff. Way too much stuff if I’m being honest, but… it’ll work for us, okay? I know, I know you don’t want to risk taking over and you know… forcing me to do something, so we’ll do it a little differently. Just. Let me present my side of the argument.”
Stiles shuffled back a little, settling into the next of pillows with his arms crossed over his chest with Derek kneeling on the bed before him, hands raised with palms open, eyes earnest.
“Okay.”
“Okay. First things first. I really, really want you to fuck me,” Stiles made a squeaking noise and Derek grinned, “and I know you do too. But as much as you would like it, it’s not really about you wanting it; it’s about me wanting it. Secondly, I’m a werewolf.”
“Really? I had no idea,”
“Let me finish. I’m a werewolf. I have a healing factor. It would be virtually painless for both parties,”
“Lydia helped too, didn’t she,”
“A little. But that’s not the point – the point is, painless. Thirdly,”
“How long is this list?”
“You said you’d let me present my side of the argument.”
“Sorry,” Stiles sunk a little into the pillows and waved a hand for Derek to continue.
“Thirdly, this is our first time together. We could do anything we wanted, anyway we wanted, but I’m asking, please, for us to do it like this because it’s your first time but it’s not mine and I want to pretend it is because this is the only first time that counts.”
Stiles’ eyes went a little wider, his eyebrows crinkling down just a little and Derek took a deep breath because this was either going to work or explode in his face.
“So… what do you say?”
“I… suddenly feel like there is a huge pressure for me to be good at this,” Stiles admits and Derek let his breath out, relaxing forward until his forehead was resting on Stiles’ shoulder.
“I can’t believe I just had to do that,” Derek mumbles as Stiles pulls him forward until he was collapsed on top of the younger man once more.
“Nobody will ever believe you if you say you had to set out a reasonable argument to get laid,” Stiles nodded and they both laughed, the whole bed shaking with the feel of it.
“Alright so… how do you… wanna start?” Stiles asked awkwardly when they’ve calmed down, a hint of the nerves he’d been so carefully repressing shining through.
“I figured we could wing it.”
“Really? You have a speech and notes and a list but for the actual act, it’s ‘wing it’?”
“Yup,” Derek grinned, leaning back, “and I thought I’d start,” he ran his hands down Stiles’ chest, playing with the waist of his boxer shorts, “with getting rid of these.”
“Excellent plan,” Stiles grinned, lifting his hips slightly to make removing the boxers easier on Derek.
Everyone always thought Stiles was the shy-with-his-body virgin. Thing was, none of the pack could understand where that thought pattern had come from. Stiles’ wasn’t shy about anything; he would regularly remove various bits of clothing in both 1) revenge against Derek who spent 90% of his life outside of work shirtless and 2) teasing Derek because damn.
So now that he was fully naked, no held bars? He stretched himself out on the bed, groaning as he did so.
“Like the view?”
“It’s not bad.”
“Not baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaooohhh,” Stiles gasped, biting his lip and struggling not to buck up when Derek sucked him down without any warning whatsoever. He pulled off with a smile that Stiles could feel, kissing the cut tip lightly.
“So I can shut you up with my mouth, I’ve just been kissing the wrong area,” Derek teased, pressing a kiss to Stiles inner thigh.
“Silence really shouldn’t be your goal while doing that,” Stiles retorted and Derek laughed lightly, puffs of warm air making Stiles’ twitch.
“So does that mean… stop?” Derek asked, pulling away jokingly while Stiles scrambled to stop him.
“No, no,” Derek laughed again and Stiles punched his shoulder lightly.
“You’re not funny. Come ‘er,” Stiles wrapped a hand around the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him up for a kiss. His hands explored, pushing lightly on Derek’s boxer briefs.
“Why are these still on?” he muttered against Derek’s lips, pushing them down. Derek shimmed a little without actually moving, until they were down near his knees, kicking them off and across the room. Stiles’ grabbed a handful of Derek’s ass, mostly just because he could, pulling their hips together and earning mutual groans.
“Yeah, I can work with this,” Stiles offered with a grin while Derek rocked against him, wrapping a leg around Derek’s waist and digging his heel into Derek’s upper thigh. Stiles’ wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, just sliding against each other until they were sweaty and gasping, but it felt amazing. Almost just a little too amazing.
“Alight, alright. If you want this show to happen you need to get it on the road,” Stiles let out and Derek nipped lightly at his shoulder before reaching for the supplies that had been sitting, rather mockingly actually, on the side table for about a week and a half.
“How do you…”
“You can watch,” Derek said grinning before leaning back on his knees. He dropped a condom on the bed beside Stiles and made a show of covering his fingers with the lube.
“Have you been practicing this?” Stiles joked but Derek flushed red and Stiles pupils went a little wider at the mental image of Derek spreading himself open on his fingers all alone in his room.
“You have,”
“Shut it,” Derek muttered, moving his hand around behind him and Stiles’ licked his lips, fumbling for the lube quickly. Squirting a little on his hand he wrapped it around Derek’s cock, curiously thumbing at the foreskin – Derek was uncut, where Stiles was, and he’d never experienced foreskin.
“Did you think of me?”
Derek’s eyes opened from where they’d been squeezed shut.
“Yeah,” he groaned, bracing himself on one arm beside Stiles’ head, his hand moving at a smooth, steady pace.
Stiles twisted his wrist, experimenting with the awkward angle, making Derek grunt, before thrusting up and pushing his own cock alongside Derek’s in his grip.
“How many?”
“Two,” Derek shut his eyes again, wincing a little, “three.”
“Hey, don’t rush it,” Stiles frowned, leaning up to pepper kisses over Derek’s face.
“Not. Eager,” he grinned, then groaned and fell forward for a second before catching himself.
“Good?” Stiles questioned, curious.
“Oh yeah,” Derek breathed, before pushing himself forward and clumsily catching Stiles’ lips. There was no grace or finesse, just a messy mashing of lips, but Stiles returned it as best he could. Smoothing his free hand down Derek’s side, he slid it up and over Derek’s hip until his hand bumped Derek’s. He traced around the rim, feeling at the stretch of Derek’s fingers pumping in and out, making the older man groan into his mouth before he pulled back unexpectedly.
“Condom, on, now, come on.”
Stiles pulled back, fumbling for the foiled square and tearing it open with his teeth.
“Uh oh.”
“What? What uh oh, don’t say uh oh,”
“I broke it. Tastes gross.”
“Get another one then!” Derek hissed, “and don’t use your teeth this time moron,”
“Don’t insult me, we’re having sex, you’ll ruin the mood,” Stiles chastised as he reached for the box, grabbing a line of foil packets, just in case.
“Knowing you? Insulting you will get you in the mood.”
“Aw, sweetie, you know me so well,” Stiles snarked in return, making a show of ripping the second packet with his hands. He slowly rolled the condom slowly down over himself before popping the lube and smoothing some over his cock.
“Ready?”
“We’re doing it like this?”
Derek grinned down at Stiles, moving until he was comfortably straddling the younger man.
“Unless you object?”
“Nah, nah, I’m good.”
“Good,” Derek reached down, carefully guiding Stiles’ cock to his hole.
“Holy shit,” Stiles hissed as Derek slowly sunk down, inch by inch.
They both just sat for a moment to adjust when Derek was settled neatly on Stiles’ lap, Derek’s hands kneading at the pillow on either side of Stiles’ head.
“You gonna move?” Derek asked after a minute.
“Am I allowed?”
“Fuck, yes, what the hell.”
“I was waiting for permission!”
Whatever Derek was going to retort with, no doubt sarcastic and scathing, was lost when Stiles rolled his hips upward.
They worked at it, Stiles thrusting up while Derek pushed down, sorting out a rhythm in the slow pace, working out the best time to rotate their hips in slow circles or which direction earned the best noise. They didn’t talk much except in broken words of encouragement, or change, until they were both breathing hard and covered in a thin shine of sweat and settled in a steady give and take, with Stiles keeping a hand wrapped firmly around Derek’s cock as it bobbed with every thrust. Derek’s thighs shook as he held himself up, muscles in his arms twitching.
Stiles’ other hand slipped when it tried to grab the back of Derek’s neck to pull him in for a kiss, so he dug his nails into Derek’s shoulder, earning a particularly loud moan.
“Like that?”
“Won’t last,” Derek grunted out as Stiles dragged his nails down Derek’s arm, the red marks already fading away.
“Looks good,” Stiles all but mused between breathy gasps, “like marking you. People don’t get to see it, like when you gimme hickies.”
Derek whimpered.
“Come on, ‘m close. Harder.”
Stiles laughed breathlessly and planted his feet flat on the mattress for leverage, moving his hands onto Derek’s hips, thrusting up solidly. Derek rode the wave with a loud ‘fuck!’ meeting the thrust with a solid slap of skin.
“Yeah, yeah, perfect,” Derek got out, moving one of his hands to the headboard, the other wrapping around his cock and stoking unevenly.
“Fuck you feel amazing,” Stiles moaned, digging his head into the pillow as he thrust up.
“Not long,” Derek warned, the rhythm starting to break and become uneven and Stiles sped up, watching Derek’s face as his gasped, as if surprised, and came over Stiles’ stomach. He rode through two more upward thrusts before collapsing forward into the mess, rotating his hips down.
“Come on,” he slurred, and Stiles groaned, finishing himself off with a couple of quick, short thrusts.
They both breathed heavily as they came down from their individual highs and Stiles pulled out slowly while Derek hissed. He carefully peeled off the condom while Derek collapsed onto the bed next to him, tying the end and dropping it over the edge of the bed into the bin nearby.
“So,” he said quietly while they stared up at the ceiling, “I think we should begin every morning like that.”
Derek snorted and started to laugh, making Stiles join him.
“Should probably brush our teeth first,” Derek mused, tipping his head to the side to look at Stiles, who felt his eyes and turned as well.
“Mmm. Minty fresh? Clean. OH! Shower sex,” Stiles said suddenly, his eyes lighting up.
“Already? Really?”
“Not yet but… think of it like a challenge.”
Derek rolled his eyes, reaching a lazy hand over to Stiles’ chest and smearing the mess there into his skin.
“Are you seriously rubbing your come into my skin?” Stiles asked with a touch of amusement, but did nothing to stop Derek’s actions.
“You smell good like this.”
Stiles smiled affectionately at Derek until he pulled his hand away, satisfied.
“You’re creepy and weird but I like you anyway,” he said and Derek grinned.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re a bit of an asshole. But I like you anyway,” Derek offered after a minute and Stile chuckled.
“Good to hear it.”
“No problem.”
“So… shower? Join me?”
Derek sat up, grabbing hold of Stiles’ hand and slowly pulling him from the bed.
“Yeah, I definitely think we need to shower.”
-------------
Isaac was pleased about the lack of desperate longing scent in the apartment for all of a second before the scent of sex and affection smacked into him.
He spent the next hour complaining that he could never enter the kitchen or bathroom again now that they’d defiled them.
-----------
After Stiles’ turned 18, Derek and Stiles’ rarely spent a night apart. But that didn’t mean that Stiles was always at Derek’s. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be two uniformed officers sitting at the kitchen table in the Stilinski household, sometimes trying to talk in a newly developed code about cases that Stiles was never allowed to know about.
This morning, however, there was only light bickering over baseball scores, reminders about school events and police bake sales and who was cooking what for dinner during the week. All three heads snapped up as a bell near the front door jingled.
“What…” Derek started but Stiles shot out of his seat, running towards it with a shout of ‘maaaaiiilllll!’
“Your boyfriend is a toddler,” the Sheriff muttered, reaching for his coffee cup.
“Your son is a toddler,” Derek retorted maturely as Stiles slow footsteps could be heard returning.
“Did you put a bell on the mail slot?” Stiles’ father asked as he rounded the corner, flicking through the envelopes.
“Uh hu,” Stiles said inattentively, turning one of the envelopes over to read the back.
“Oh!” he squeaked, throwing all the other letters on the table when he found the one he was searching for, ripping open the top.
“Stiles,” his dad chastised as he gathered the mail back up, shaking his head as he began sorting it himself. Derek sighed and edged forward, trying to read what was on the paper. But he didn’t have too.
“I got in.”
Derek frowned while Stiles stared at the paper in his hands. He subtly scented the air for Stiles emotions but they were too muddled.
“Got into what?”
“Berkeley. Early Admissions. I got in.”
“You… you applied?”
“I didn’t think…”
Derek pulled the paper from Stiles hands while the younger fell into his chair.
“This is good, right?” Derek tried cautiously, eyes darting from Stiles to the Sheriff, who shrugged – Stiles was decidedly… not excited.
“Amazing. Unbelievable,” Stiles said, his voice coming out hysterical, “I even got a scholarship!”
“Why aren’t you happy about this?”
“I am!”
“Really because you look like you’re having a heart attack,” his dad offered helpfully and Stiles dropped his forehead to the table.
“I’m processing!”
Derek and the Sheriff looked at each other for a minute.
“He doesn’t even react like this when we have sex.”
The Sheriff frowned, closed his eyes for a second and then sighed.
“I’m glad you’re chatting more son, but you’ve been hanging around Stiles for too long.”
Derek shrugged and went back to eating his food while the Sheriff continued to sort the mail.
“Kiddo, there’s more mail here for you,” his Dad pipped after a minute, sliding it under Stiles’ forehead where it rested against the table. After a minute he lifted his head slightly, glancing at it.
“Hey, it’s from Grandma!”
“Only a month late on the birthday card this year,” the Sheriff nodded.
“Better than last year,” Derek shrugged as Stiles tore the envelope open.
“Ah, shi—“ Stiles started, and Derek’s head snapped over at the scent of blood, catching sight of the paper cut just seconds before the paper burst into flames. Stiles fell backwards with a shout, the whole chair tipping over while Derek and the Sheriff jumped to their feet. Derek moved to Stiles’ side, grabbing his hand to move him away from the curling flames on the table. Electricity bolted through his body, sending him crashing to the floor. The world was black for a moment before it sparked back into life, making him groan.
“Up we go, come on,” the Sheriff was say, pulling Derek into a sitting position. Stiles had scrambled away, his back pressed against the kitchen wall and Derek had a terrible flash back to himself from a year and a half ago.
“Stiles?” he croaked, looking between his boyfriend who was curled in the corner to the Sheriff who was glancing between his son and the burnt remains of the letter on the table.
“What the hell is going on?!” Stiles shouted, his hands stuffed under his armpits like it was too dangerous to do anything else with them, the smell of his panic, fear and confusion filling the air and making Derek dizzy. The Sheriff reached to grab the paper from the table.
“No don’t tou—“ but he’d already picked it up.
Nothing happened.
“Wha…”
“I think,” the Sheriff said cautiously, “that it’s time to call your grandmother.”
Derek tilted his head, trying to see the note, but was only able to make out three words printed against the remains of the charred paper.
Be the spark.
Fin.