Chapter Text
“Oh, come on, this is complete bullshit. You have to be making it up, Peter!” Derek shouted, and Peter just smirked.
Of course, he’d never admit that he was just fucking with Derek, not until the last second, but a sharp look from the Sheriff had the elder wolf somewhat contrite and rolling his eyes in an admission of guilt.
“Oh, okay, fine. It’s not that uncommon for a female Alpha to have a human partner. But it is odd for him not to be bitten, or to be awaiting the Bite.” he added, and that made both Stilinski’s frown.
It was Sunday evening and Peter had shown up, much to the Sheriff’s chagrin (there had been mutterings about declaring Peter legally dead, and issues to do with his ‘miraculous’ recovery, but thankfully the Sheriff was willing to look past that if Peter actually helped Derek to survive the Wolf Moon Meet with his head attached to his shoulders.
“Stiles is only eighteen, though.” The Sheriff pointed out, quite reasonably, Derek thought. “Surely they’d wait until they were considering kids…” he drifted off, suddenly uncomfortable, as he seemed to realise he was discussing hypothetical grandchildren of his own with a female werewolf who was not, in fact, female.
Derek sighed and Stiles turned scarlet, his scent souring with embarrassment, before he rounded on Peter.
“Okay, we got that. What else? Should we be… touchy?” he asked, waving his hands in Derek’s general direction. “I mean, we have to convince a conference centre full of super-sniffers that we’re in a loving, committed relationship. And that Dee is not available for use as a handy-dandy werewolf incubator by another pack.”
Peter smirked and Derek tensed up, hands clenching into fists where he sat on the sofa. He was in his skinny jeans again, the ones that the girls had bought him, barefoot and had somehow ended up wearing one of Stiles’ t-shirts, it had shown up in his pile of clean laundry and he’d thrown it on without thinking that morning, not bothering to change when he’d heard Peter knocking on the front door.
“It looks like you’re already starting to do that.” Peter pointed out, looking at Derek’s chest, making him cross his arms over it in an automatic and defensive move.
“Sharing clothes is a good start, but you’ll need to be more ‘touchy’, as you put it, Stiles, before you go anywhere. You might want to start sleeping together.”
John made a noise of objection at that, and Peter hurried to continue.
“Sleeping in the same bed, Sheriff. Though if you were having sex, that’d help, too…”
Derek groaned and Stiles’ scent shifted again as his cheeks flamed, moving through embarrassed towards turned on and he moved in his seat, crossing his legs and avoiding Derek’s eyes as Derek tried not to look at the Sheriff, who he was certain would be murderous.
He was right, that John was ready to shoot someone, but that someone was Peter.
“Hale, get out. I’m sure that the kids can figure this out.” he said, getting to his feet.
Peter, to his credit, didn’t challenge John, just slinked out the front door and wandered off, vanishing into the shadows of the neighbours’ oak tree and down the street.
John opened his mouth to speak but Derek held up a hand, a finger to his lips and listened until he could no longer detect Peters’ heartbeat, then nodded.
“So, Dee. Do you think that you two-“ he waved a hand between them, “-doing that, might help your case?” he asked, looking uncomfortable himself.
Derek swallowed and tried hoped his voice would stay steady.
“I think - I think we can get away with just sharing a bed. Nothing else would be necessary. Some packs are… old fashioned. But we want to convince them that we’re engaged, so sharing a bed will help. We don’t need to do anything, but even me living in this house means that our scents have mingled. Sharing the bathroom, the laundry. All helps.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I didn’t think that anything else would really be warranted, but like Peter pointed out, even with a human partner, a werewolf doesn’t like to sleep alone.”
John looked over at Derek sharply at that.
“Even you? How - have you been okay? You’ve been sleeping alone while you’ve been living here.” He paused, then rephrased. “You have been sleeping alone while you’ve been living here, right?”
Derek nodded. It had been uncomfortable and he’d had more sleepless nights than restful ones, but he’d managed. It was probably why he hadn’t bothered to return the few things of Stiles’ that had worked their way into his laundry pile, because it gave him the illusion of sharing his den with someone else.
Isaac was still living with the McCalls, and he was supposed to be sleeping in the guest room. But from his scent, and Scott’s, they had ended up piled together in one bed most evenings. Cora, on the other hand, was quite happy solo. She’d been living as an Omega for so long, she was used to it. A rare case, for a werewolf, that she could live without a pack. Probably a side-effect of losing hers at such a young age.
Peter was another matter entirely and Derek didn’t think about him.
“I’m fine, really, John. It’s okay. I spent a lot of nights alone before I was Alpha and I’m sure I’ll spend just as many alone in the future.”
John frowned.
“You know, if you need to… if it’ll make you feel better, you two can share a bed. Or… Isaac? Or your sister… they could stay here as well. I know you’re not actually a wolf, but being alone can’t be much fun for you.”
Derek felt his cheeks start to burn and heard Stiles choking and rushing to object even as he shook his head and John rounded on his son.
“Stiles, come on, you told me how much research you did into werewolves when Scott got bitten, surely you know that an Alpha sleeping alone can’t be a good thing!”
Stiles, at least, had the good decency to look a little ashamed.
“Uh, well, Dee never said-“
The Sheriff just raised an eyebrow, and Stiles winced.
“You two are sharing a bed.” he said, and Derek almost choked on his tongue.
“That’s not necessary!” he objected, but the older man wouldn't have a bar of it, shaking his head and holding up a hand to stop Derek.
“From what you have all told me about this Wolf Moon thing, you’re going to be under scrutiny from all angles, and showing up without a believable mate is going to make life a lot harder for you.”
Derek nodded, swallowing, hard, biting his lips and feeling a lump rise in his throat.
“So, tonight I’m cooking us steaks for dinner, and can you make that green salad thing again?” he asked, and Derek nodded again, still not trusting his voice.
“Good. You two discuss your… arrangements, and I’m heading back to the station for a couple of hours."
He got to his feet and with a smile and a nod at Derek, followed by a severe look at his son, he patted himself down and left the house, taking the cruiser towards the station and humming along with the radio as he drove away.
Derek kept staring at the floor between his feet - oddly his toes were very similar in this form to how they’d been as a man, just not so hairy - while he listened to Stiles fidgeting and chewing on his tongue.
“So I’m going to make the salad.” Derek said after a long, awkward moment of quiet. “I’ll put it in the refrigerator when I’m done.” he added, getting to his feet and heading into the kitchen.
In the week since he’d first cooked for Stiles and his father, Derek had managed to almost transform the kitchen entirely - a knife block with good knives had been installed, a full set of saucepans and frypans purchased (as well as a real wok) and there was a stoneware jar on the counter by the stove that held wooden spoons, tongs, serving spoons and spatulas, now.
Concentrating on the salad, Derek didn’t notice Stiles come into the kitchen until he cleared his throat.
“So do, um. Do you want to sleep in my room, or should I move some things in with you?” he asked, not meeting Derek’s gaze as he washed a cos lettuce out in the sink.
Derek felt his cheeks heating up.
“I don’t mind. I’ve got less things, I guess. And you’ve got a queen bed, right? The one in the guest room is only a double.”
Stiles nodded.
“Okay. Sure. Uh, I’m going to go play Xbox for a while-“
“Sure, go. I’m going to the store to get some snacks, anyway.”
Stiles frowned at that, and Derek rolled his eyes.
“There’s no chocolate in this house - trust me, I’d have found it.” he explained. “I know that you kept your Dad on a tight leash, but I thought you had a weakness for Reese’s Pieces?”
Stiles blushed a little at that and Derek felt himself smiling.
“I do, but I try to get them from vending machines and stuff.” he said, then looked up at Derek, eyebrows furrowed.
“Wait, you want chocolate?” he asked, confused. “You’re a complete health nut!”
Derek shrugged.
“Full moon is at the New Year.” he pointed out. “That and I want to make some cookies for Christmas, which is in two days, in case you’d forgotten.”
Stiles cursed, and Derek laughed a little.
“You had forgotten, hadn’t you?” Stiles nodded at him, making Derek laugh louder, because they had been sitting in the middle of the lounge room, surrounded by tinsel and fairy lights, and there had been a rather loud… discussion… about the positioning of the Christmas tree just a few days earlier.
“Come on, when I’ve finished making this salad we can go to the mall, you can get your last minute presents and we can come home via the grocery store so I can get the things I need to make Christmas cookies.”
-=-=-=-=-=-
The mall was, predictably, overrun and there were small children shrieking, parents yelling and flash bulbs going off every few seconds for the Photos With Santa. Derek winced when they entered the space, and Stiles reached out, grabbing his hand without seeming to think about it, but he held on, knowing if he didn’t that they’d get separated, lost and fail in their mission.
He allowed himself to be led, happy that he’d pulled on the flat boots and the black knit sweater thing that he’d found while looking for more jeans that actually fit, and that nobody seemed to look at them twice as they weaved through the crowds. They headed straight for Macy's, because apparently the Sheriff was surprisingly easy to buy gifts for - his birthday was in the middle of summer, so Stiles made sure to get him a bottle of cologne for each event and they usually lasted for just on six months, meaning it was a reliable present.
It also meant that Derek was about to have a migraine hit him like a freight train because the perfume department of Macy's, two days before Christmas, was full of women 'demonstrating' scents, spraying artificial florals into the air and it was only made worse by the internal climate control that recycled the air in an attempt to keep the place warm.
Stiles squeezed his hand as they approached the right counter and leaned back into Derek's space to mutter an apology.
"I know, you hate cologne and stuff, but Dad loves it. And I like to get him something good. Can you - how about you go over there?" Stiles offered, pointing to the leather goods department adjacent. "I won't be long. Then we can go get the things you need to make cookies and get the hell out of here, alright?"
Derek nodded, eyes watering, and threaded his way through the crowds until he was deep among the purses, the smell of leather, metal and plastic much more appealing than the seemingly thousands of perfume scents that were lingering around the counters that Stiles was standing by.
He kept an eye on his shopping partner, idly looking at some of the nicer green and red purses, wondering if he should invest in one, but when Stiles still hadn't come to find him after about five minutes, he tuned his hearing in to try and find out what the hold up was.
Oh.
"Excus- oh. Fine. Uh - miss?" Derek frowned, because Stiles was being ignored, by the sound of it. He listened for another few seconds and heard him address at least two more people, still being brushed aside and then he rolled his eyes, leaving the safety of leather goods and zeroing in on where Stiles was standing beside an illuminated advertisement for Givenchy, looking miserable.
He lit up a bit when he spotted Derek, though, until he bit his lip and started to blush.
"I think they're ignoring me because I look like a kid." he muttered, even before Derek was close enough for a human to have believably heard him, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes and stepping up next to Stiles, holding out a hand and tugging him closer to one of the counters.
"Which one do you want to get him?" he asked, and Stiles pointed to one at the end of the counter in a black bottle. They both walked along the length of the glass display case until they came to a stop by the boxes of gift packages with the Armani fragrance, at which point Derek sighed and leaned forward on the counter, tapping on the glass and tracking one of the sales girls, eyes on her face, as she flitted around a few feet away, steadfastly ignoring them as she rearranged boxes.
Derek cleared his throat, and she kept her back to them, until he spoke up.
"Excuse me." he said, the raised eyebrow audible, and the sales girl turned to face them, sneering.
"Can I - uh - help you?" she asked, and Derek sighed. He'd found himself the victim of a lot of this kind of behaviour lately, and he figured that it was something to do with a comment that Scott had made - calling him 'husky' - and he hated it. As a guy, all it had taken was a flash of a smile and salespeople fell over themselves to help him. Right now, however, the assistant was looking at him like he should be grateful that she was even taking the time to address him.
Fine. Time to blast the stereotype.
"Hi, I wanted to get my boyfriend one of the Armani gift packs?" he asked, pointing, and the assistant sighed, reaching for one and sliding the lid on, setting it down in front of them.
"$79.99." she told him, not meeting their eyes as she looked around for what she (apparently) thought were bigger fish.
"Okay." Taking out his wallet (which he had refused to give up - he only carried three cards and cash) Derek slapped down his secret weapon.
"Put it on that, please." he told her, and watched as her eyes widened and her entire demeanour changed. He was just glad that the black Amex just said 'D HALE' and didn't bear an honorific, or his full first name.
"Yes, miss, uh, was there anything else? There's a larger bottle, and a different package-"
Derek cut her off with the least sincere smile he could muster.
"That's fine. You ignored my boyfriend for ten solid minutes, then treated me like dog-shit. If you think I'm going to make your commission check any fatter, you've got another thing coming. Gift-wrap that and think yourself lucky that I didn't ask to speak to your manager."