Chapter Text
Rapid breaths were flowing past Stiles’ opened lips, an aftermath of an ecstasy hurricane. His heart was beating out of his chest, little beads of sweat covered his naked skin. The orgasm weaved inside his body, making him relaxed and malleable.
“I love you so fucking much.”
Stiles couldn’t help but smile, wide and happy. He opened his eyes to look at the man lying beside him.
God, how can anyone be so ridiculously handsome? His cheekbones of a GQ-model, his full overly expressive eyebrows that deserved their own dictionary, his fucking mouth. Stiles loved his scratchy scruff, loved that he knew how it felt against the inside of his thighs and on the tender skin of his neck. He adored his black hair, obsessed over a couple of early grey hairs on his right temple. Stiles loved his eyes, so green and blue and grey, the eyes that were now staring at him.
Stiles flopped to the side, swinging a leg over Derek’s hairy thigh, and caressed his cheek.
“Love you, too.”
Derek’s eyes glowed gold for a moment. They both smiled at each other, feeling stupid in their shared euphoria.
After tracing Stiles’ face with his gaze, Derek’s resolve seemed to crumble; he leaned forward and started to shower Stiles’ flushed face with kisses, slow and sweet like thick honey. His lips lingered over each mole, teasingly skipping over Stiles’ panting mouth; Derek kissed his entire face, before surrendering to Stiles’ needy whines and kissed him properly on the lips.
It was always like this after sex. Derek, normally stoic and impervious, became this gentle beast, loving and affectionate; even now his hand slipped between Stiles’ thighs to massage his opening, scooping his own leaking cum and pushing it back inside. Stiles gasped, shutting his eyes against the sensation.
Fucking possessive werewolves.
His breathy moans were swallowed by Derek’s probing tongue; Stiles buried his hands in Derek’s sweaty tousled hair and tugged, knowing that the werewolf wouldn’t feel any pain, only pleasure.
Derek rolled them over; his hairy chest was now flush to Stiles, pinning him down with all his insane muscles. He was so hot, in every way.
“Second round?” Derek rumbled into his ear, then bit the lobe.
“Mmm,” Stiles moaned, sliding his hands around the man’s broad shoulders. “Have some pity for the poor human.”
“Did I wear you out, kitten?” Derek laughed in his ear. He looked in Stiles’ eyes and bit his lip smugly, then laughed even more at Stiles’ pout and his flushed cheeks. He laid a soft kiss on his lips, but then expertly twisted his fingers, making Stiles gasp out loud and curl his toes. Fucking — “That’s it. How can I not fuck you, when you moan so prettily?”
“Derek,” Stiles whined. Fuck, it felt so good, but so raw at the same time. They’ve just finished fucking — good and hard pounding — and Stiles was just overly sensitive right now. “Gimme ten minutes.”
“Your wish is my command,” Derek smacked a kiss on Stiles’ nose and finally withdrew his teasing fingers, instead wiping them on Stiles’ stomach.
“Gross.”
Derek flashed his eyes once more. “I’m a werewolf,” he said, massaging his cum into Stiles’ skin, “it’s not gross. Besides, you like it.”
Stiles’ face grew hot. Busted.
“Well, I graciously made an exception,” he smirked. “Just for you.”
In a lightning-fast move, Derek buried his face in the space between Stiles’ shoulder and neck and bit there with his human teeth. Fuck, he’d give anything to let Derek do as he wanted, to have the mark of his wolf, the sign of belonging to someone…
“Derek, stop,” Stiles gripped Derek’s hair and tugged him away. He wasn’t strong enough to make him do it — Derek moved, because he allowed it. “We can’t.”
“I can,” Derek growled and started trailing kisses up and down Stiles’ neck, tracing the clavicles with his tongue. “Also, it’s kind of too late.”
“Fuck.”
Derek leaned away with a sigh and looked at him with a slight frown. “You like it. I like it. Fuck what everyone else thinks.”
Stiles traced the line of Derek’s eyebrows with his pointy finger.
He wished it was that easy, wanted to share Derek’s confidence and lack of care so much. But how could he, when it was Derek’s family?
Stiles was convinced that alpha Talia Hale and her pack simply couldn’t stand his guts. They hated him from the very beginning, from the moment he stepped inside the Hale house and they figured out by his scent that he was a human. The memory was a vivid long-lasting nightmare: their shoulders tensing, jaws ticking, smiles turning brittle and fake. They likely thought he wouldn’t notice (because humans were stupid and clueless like blind newborn puppies) and tried to keep their appearances. Talia, Derek’s mom, even went out of her way to explain to him the pack’s dinner etiquette, slow and clear, as if he was a small child, when in fact he spent the entire evening before that grilling Derek with questions and digging up his notes about pack politics.
Werewolves thought he didn’t hear when they took Derek aside and subtly asked why he brought his ‘human fling’ into a family home. They couldn’t fathom the thought that a son of a such respected alpha of an elite pack could be in a serious relationship with a human.
Not all werewolves were like that, take Derek for example. He couldn’t care less if Stiles was human or not, he just liked him. In early stages of their relationship Stiles actually thought the same thing as the rest of the Hales: how could this amazing handsome man tolerate him, like him, love him? Stiles didn’t know what Derek saw in him; a prosperous handsome werewolf with a thriving family business from a well-established influential pack and him, Stiles, a puny weak human, a recent graduate without a job, self-confidence or any property to call his own. He kept wondering when would Derek get tired or bored of him, when would the lust fade and his side of the bed would stay cold on more and more days of the week.
But none of it happened.
Instead, Derek gave him keys to his place, which was already full of Stiles’ things; he kept showering him with presents, kisses and attention. The inquisitive light in his eyes, when he looked at Stiles, wasn’t fading. He always smiled when he saw Stiles. He kept saying ‘I love you.’
Stiles was astonished to find himself on a receiving end of Derek Hale’s attention. For a fucking year already. He waited for the dream to end, for his hopes to shatter and another shoe to drop.
It didn’t feel real.
“We can skip,” said Derek, though the lightness of his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“You can’t disobey your alpha’s order,” Stiles reminded. “And they’d blame me for keeping you away.”
“You can sit it out then. I understand.”
Stiles sighed, watching his finger trail down Derek’s face. “Then they’ll be offended that I’m not attending. ‘How dare this lowly human refuse the invitation from the famous Hale pack?’”
“You’re not—“
“Besides, it’s not like I have something to do.” Stiles grimaced, trying to hide bitterness.
Derek frowned. “Still no response?”
Stiles lowered his gaze and shrugged. No matter how many resumes he sent, none were taken seriously. It was his own fault for choosing the Supernatural History major. Yes, a human as a Supernatural species expert, laugh it up, everybody. Stupid.
“Have you contacted Deaton?” Derek asked casually.
Stiles barely managed not to roll his eyes. “There’s no point.”
“Baby.”
“You’re biased.”
“I’m right,” Derek growled and bit him softly on the edge of the jaw. “I’m telling you: you have magic. Just because I’m obsessed with you doesn’t mean I’m going to lie about something like that.”
Well, yeah, as a werewolf, he didn’t see a point in lying, since he could sense it instantly, just by listening to a heartbeat. However, Derek was blinded by love. Stiles didn’t have magic, the whole thing was just an accident, really. They were arguing over what movie to watch one day, and Stiles really-really wanted to watch ‘Man of Steel’ and kept whining about it and in the next moment the TV started to play it. Stiles was convinced he’d just accidentally sat on a TV remote, but Derek still called Deaton — some posh druid and his old acquaintance — the very next day.
Derek was a Hale, after all, so maybe he was just desperate in his desire to see Stiles as something other than human.
Stiles didn’t like thinking about it much.
He knew they wouldn’t last. No way would Derek fucking Hale settle for someone like him. But Stiles loved him, admired him and therefore clung to the man with everything he had. He’d take anything Derek was willing to give him.
Suddenly, Derek leaned down and kissed him, gentle and soft. He closed his eyes and said right into Stiles’ lips, “Talk to him?”
Stiles shut him up with a kiss, praying that Derek would leave it. He was already jittery with the Hale gathering looming over him like a boulder. The prospect of spending the entire week, leading to the Solstice, in the same house with people that despised him… If it wasn’t for Derek, he would never go.
He’ll just… distance himself, do as Derek says and not listen to shit that everybody will undoubtedly spew about him.
It’ll be just another week that he’d get to spend by Derek’s side.
Everything will be fine.
___
After getting a telling silent treatment upon arriving, Stiles delegated himself to staying behind Derek; he’d gladly hide in some far corner with his soda, but Derek took his shaking hand hostage. Fuck it, let Derek be his shield.
The Hale house was beautiful; large enough to host an entire pack, luxurious, but without being snobby. A nice garden in the front yard, children’s bikes, balls and toys here and there to entertain an ungodly amount of toddlers and other young kids. Stiles even remembered there being a pool, but that was probably too casual for the event like this.
Talia, an alpha and leader of the pack, a strong, tall woman with long dark hair and a stern gaze, greeted her son with hugs and all kinds of lamination. Derek’s father, Andrew, a literal copy of Derek, but softer and greyer from age, stood beside her with a small smile on his face, happy to see his son. The only greeting Stiles got was an aculeate “hello” from Talia, while Andrew pretended he didn’t exist.
Laura was fine, she even asked how he was doing after smooching Derek on his cheeks; she considered Stiles more of a clueless pet, than her brother’s boyfriend, and treated him as such. Cora, the youngest of the Hales, downright ignored him, preferring to stay glued to her phone.
There was also Derek’s uncle Peter with his rambunctious daughter Malia, as well as other various uncles, aunts, spouses and children. The house was loud with talk and laughter, screeching and yelling — a perfect picture of a happy family house, full of werewolves with gorgeousness and grace ingrained in their DNA.
Stiles didn’t fit. Both he and Derek knew it. It was the reason he introduced them so late, almost nine months after their relationship started. He seemed to be the odd one, even though Stiles didn’t understand why he wasn’t a dickhead, like the rest of his family was. He interacted with humans just fine, treated them like everyone else; not to say he didn’t have a rich boy attitude sometimes, but if he was a dickhead to people, then he was a dickhead to all species.
Speaking of dickheads…
“What a pleasure, Derek, what a pleasure indeed.” Peter Hale’s sleazy voice interrupted Stiles’ chagrin mood.
“Peter.” Derek, for some reason, liked Peter, and even relaxed a bit at the sight of him.
Peter, though, kept all of his focus on Stiles. He was probably the closest to his wolf of all Hales, at least, judging by his calculating gaze that never left its target and his predatory fangy grin. The man then surprised Stiles more, when he offered his hand.
Was he not grossed out by touching a human?
Derek nudged him with an encouraging smile; Stiles jumped a little, but shook Peter’s hand, though ended it, perhaps, too fast. Peter’s smile grew wider.
“Do not fret, Stiles,” he grinned at Stiles’ surprised look. “Not like I’m gonna bite. Unlike my sister I actually like humans.”
“A little too much,” Derek muttered.
Peter shrugged. “They make a fascinating prey, don’t they, nephew? So fun to stalk and hunt, before— ”
Derek went tense.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, flashing golden eyes at his smirking uncle and tugged Stiles away.
“I raised you better than that!” Peter called after them, but Derek only huffed.
Seeing as they were surrounded by werewolves with enhanced hearing, Stiles decided not to incriminate himself and keep an astounding amount of questions to himself. Derek led him into the house, after getting stopped multiple times for greeting and some light scenting. Nobody paid Stiles any mind, despite him and Derek holding hands the entire time.
Inside was a little quieter, as most of the kids were playing outside. There were tables of snacks, drinks and even sweet stuff; Derek, ever the gentleman, quickly went to get Stiles something to drink, before leading them to stand near the window with full view of front garden.
After a quick look around, Stiles put himself further into Derek’s space, leaning on his front and was relieved to feel the man’s hands immediately sneak around him.
“Did he really raise you?” Stiles murmured, looking up at him.
Derek chuckled, but pursed his lips afterwards. “Someone had to,” he bit out. “Laura is the future alpha, the golden child, so all effort and time was put on her. And our pack is… a lot. She has to know everything to rule it someday.”
“And you?” Stiles probed carefully.
“I was left alone, mostly,” Derek shrugged, not looking at him. His big fingers kept stroking Stiles’ lower back, though, as if seeking comfort. “Then Cora was born. Stayed glued to me the entire time, little brat,” he chuckled.
Stiles bit his lower lip. “Are you close?”
Derek’s family was a sore subject for both of them separately. Stiles didn’t like to think about them, and Derek never talked. So when Stiles was given this chance to get to know this side of Derek, he would take it.
“Not anymore. She’s pissed that I left her here. Peter’s not around, taking care of our business, and she’s not eighteen yet to leave the pack house.”
“She’ll come around,” Stiles reassured, trying to cheer him up, even though he knew literally nothing about the girl. He wanted Derek to be happy though.
The man turned to face him with a little smile.
“You’re the sweetest.” Derek flicked him on the nose, but leaned down to kiss it, when Stiles pouted.
Maybe, Stiles should be thanking Peter instead of shying away. If he was really fascinated with humans, then he definitely passed it over to Derek, while raising him, just not to that degree. There was a whole another matter of Derek having Peter as a role model in his childhood. But Derek seemed so normal.
“Attention, everybody!” Talia suddenly announced, not above her normal voice. Pack members all quieted down and turned to their leader, even children froze in the middle of their play, looking at the alpha with tiny opened mouths. “As you all know, we’re having guests with us this time…”
“Guests?” Derek mouthed, frowning a little.
Talia heard him anyway. “Yes, darling, guests. The Krasikev family. Our good old friends. They’ll stay with us for the Solstice. I hope everyone will behave accordingly.”
Her brief dark glance found Stiles for a fraction of a second, and, even though no one followed her action, it was enough for Derek to tense. Stiles stole a look at him; his jaw was tight.
Something cold and nasty formed in Stiles’ stomach, a foreboding he couldn’t shake off.
He gripped Derek’s hand tighter.
“Ah! Here they come!” Talia clapped her hands and shooed everybody outside. Walking past Derek, she grabbed his other hand and tugged. “Come on, darling, I want you to meet someone.” She started towards the door, but suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and turned to look at Stiles. “You can stay here.”
“He’s with me,” Derek growled so loud, that several people turned; Peter’s grin bordered on feral, while Laura’s nose scrunched in concern. Derek, it seemed, didn’t give a fuck, and stared right into his mother’s eyes.
Talia flashed her alpha red eyes, and Derek’s instantly reacted with gold.
“You and your whimsies,” she clucked her tongue, before lifting her chin and heading outside.
Derek followed her with his angry gaze, lip trembling in effort not to snarl. Guilt poisoned Stiles with every passing second.
“I’ll just—“
Derek didn’t let him slip away and caught his chin in a firm grip; Stiles thought he’d kiss him, but was wrong. The werewolf put his face against Stiles’ neck, right below his ear and took a deep breath.
Stiles’ heart clenched in sympathy; he fucking hated to be the cause of this horrible rift between the man he loved more than life and his fucking family, his pack. He put a palm on Derek’s neck — a gesture that most werewolves would snarl at, if not bite the hand off — and stroked in a pitiful attempt to soothe. He knew it wouldn’t help, nothing would, except the Hales changing their morals.
They stood like that, soaking in the comfort from their closeness, until Talia called again. Derek leaned away after leaving a small peck at the base of Stiles’ neck — his favorite place for some reason. His hand slipped into Stiles’.
They didn’t need to talk, since all of it was already written on Derek’s tense face: regret and love. Stiles just pushed out an encouraging smile, before leading him outside.
___
Paige was beautiful. She was nice and bubbly with just enough awkwardness for it to be considered cute instead of annoying, like in Stiles’ case. Her laugh was bright and light, like chimes, smile genuine and warm. Paige charmed everybody around her with her warm-hearted haze and Hales loved her instantly.
She was a werewolf.
And everything Stiles was not.
Stiles realized what was going on before Derek did. He caught it in Talia’s inquiring gaze that slid from Paige to surly-looking Derek, before her entire appearance lit up with good mischief and hope. Paige’s heart-shaped face flushed pretty pink, when she was introduced to Derek; it was that moment in movies, where romantic interests meet, complete with sun shining and birds chirping.
Except Derek was too busy incinerating his mother with a glare and ended up with an irritated “welcome” that made his mother wilt a little.
Stiles felt hot and cold at the same time; his poor heart thundered inside his chest, like a bird that knew it was about to be clawed out of the cage and eaten by a cat. He wished for earth to open up and swallow him whole, for himself to disappear or for someone to run him over with a truck. He tightened his grip on Derek’s hand, knowing the timer had started tickling.
Derek squeezing back wasn’t as reassuring as the werewolf probably hoped it would be.
Worst of all, Paige didn’t seem to be an asshole to him specifically. Her smile was the same when she turned to him, full of sunshine and kindness. She didn’t even blink when she realized he was a human, but that’s probably because her curious gaze kept sliding towards Derek time and time again.
Even her parents were nice and friendly, smiley, just like her. A sharp contrast to Stiles’ father — his crazy old man decided that his first meeting with Derek was the perfect day for cleaning all of his guns. Derek found it funny for some reason, especially because at the end of the meeting Stiles’ dad invited him to his monthly fishing trip.
“Derek, honey, can you show our guests their rooms? You know the ones…” Talia patted her son on a shoulder, smiling a bit too brightly. Derek grit his teeth, before grabbing Paige’s heavy bag from the ground (Paige’s face flushed even more) and turning to march to the house, with Stiles’ hand still held tight in the other hand.
“Ah-ah,” Talia suddenly stopped them and, completely ignoring her son’s questioning gaze, gently placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I need, uhm… his help with something. Go on!”
Before Derek could say something he would definitely regret later, Stiles slid his hand out of his grip and smiled at him. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t. And it won’t be. All of it would end in heartbreak, his to be exact. He knew, he fucking knew it was inevitable, but he thought he had more time.
Derek’s eyes landed heavy on him. Stiles continued smiling, as if he didn’t notice he was being intensely studied. Derek knew something was wrong because of how hard Stiles’ heart was beating, but didn’t say anything. He foolishly trusted Stiles that if something was wrong he’d tell him. He couldn’t be more wrong.
With one last calculating gaze, Derek turned and headed to the house with the Krasikevs trailing after him. The rest of the Hales swirled around them like bees around the field of flowers, with Laura immediately sneaking her hand around Paige and starting a nice chat. It was just a tiny bit nice to see Cora still absorbed in whatever was on her phone.
Stiles was left standing with a heavy heart next to the alpha, until every pack member got far enough not to overhear them and they were completely alone.
“Seems, like it’s finally time for us to talk,” Talia muttered.
He didn’t answer. She would probably be irritated if he did, before letting her speak first.
“You know,” she started, looking at their big and lavish house with front garden full of flowers, “I don’t actually think bad about humans.”
Bullshit.
“No, really,” she continued, scenting his disbelief. “Humans are important for our life. Without human species the planet would lose its balance. Supernatural would lose the balance. There are a lot of things your kind can do that no other can. It adds a certain value.”
Stiles was waiting for her to get to the point, knowing it would be bad. He forced himself to remain neutral, no teeth grinding or fists clenching. And no fucking tears, not in front of this woman.
“I just…” Talia sighed, deep and tired. “I think it’s not right for Derek to be with a human, you know?”
Everything inside Stiles turned to ice.
“Why?” he croaked.
That’s when Talia finally graced him with a belittling glance. “You know why.”
And wasn’t that a wonderful thing to hear. From Derek’s mom.
“Believe me, when I say it with an utmost respect towards your species, but you would never understand a werewolf.”
“I studied Supernatural in the university,” Stiles reminded, swallowing bitterness down his throat. She probably didn’t care to know that at all. Or anything, really, about Stiles.
“Oh, please,” Talia huffed, turning back to watch the children playing in front of the house; little werewolf puppies were tumbling over each other, giggling and play-howling. Stiles would’ve found it adorable, if not for the absolute void his insides were turning into. “You’ll never give him what he needs. You may recognize the signs, you may know all rituals, but you’ll never be qualified to perform them. A wolf mates with a wolf, not its prey.”
“Why do you think we want to be mated?” he asked as cautiously as possible. He couldn’t look at her and it wasn’t the fear talking, but devastation. He swallowed against a dry throat.
“It’s every wolf’s dream. To find a perfect mate, to procreate. It’s a necessity, it’s healthy. It’s in our blood; akin to the moon in the sky, a wolf belongs to their mate. And humans don’t have the capacity to become a mate.”
The void kept eating his insides, disintegrating his hopes, turning dreams into dust.
“But I love him,” he whispered, begged.
Talia stayed silent for a couple of minutes.
“That’s why you should understand it’s not healthy for him to be with you,” her words were simple and clear, like a piece of glass, but sharp all the same. “He will not find true happiness with you. You’re wasting his time. Preventing him from having a future he deserves.”
It was obvious she believed this with her heart. Stiles looked at her and she actually met his gaze. He didn’t expect there to be pity instead of resentment, like he thought. No anger, just a tiny bit of frustration seeped through her tight mask. But, yeah, she felt sorry for him. Because she heard his heart and how steady it was when he said he loved her son.
“Hope we understood each other. Nothing personal.”
And there truly wasn’t.
It was the first time Stiles understood that. What all of them saw when they looked at him: a mistake. His and Derek’s feelings weren’t a lie, the two of them were just making a mistake. By staying together.
Their whole relationship was a stumble.
A silly occurrence.
“I got it.”
“Good.” It was the final dismissal, before she left Stiles standing alone, and started walking to the house.
___
Seeing Derek after this talk hurt. Like hell. Like stepping on a broken glass and being left unable to walk for the rest of the life.
Every time Derek looked at him with his soft amused gaze, full of concern at his behavior, all Stiles heard was “You’re wasting his time.” When Derek first hugged him that day, pressed him close and tight with his big arms and hot hands, Stiles was so desperate to just cling to him, glue himself to him, become a blood-sucking leech or lay upon his skin like an annoying sunburn, ingraining himself deeper and deeper, but he… Just smacked a cheerful kiss on his stubble-covered cheek and leaned away, not lingering.
Talia probably wanted for him to disappear right after their talk, but Stiles couldn’t do that to Derek. Despite knowing about the sad ending, Stiles had to acknowledge that Derek still loved him. That those feelings were true and valid, despite being doomed to expire soon. Stiles would have to be gentle (because how could he not, to Derek of all people?) and slow, but resolute all the same.
He loved Derek. Oh, how he loved him.
He’d make him the happiest man of all. By taking himself out of the way.
The Hales seemed only happy to aid him.
At dinner, for example, they ended up being suddenly short on chairs. When Derek walked over to his usual seat beside Laura, he found the one on the other side already occupied by a cheeky-looking Paige.
Stiles was ready to die from mortification right then and there. He was ready to turn and run away in shame, but Derek wouldn’t let his hand go.
“You’re in the wrong seat,” Derek grit out, at least attempting to be polite. Stiles knew if it was his sisters or even Peter sitting there, they’d found themselves pushed off to the floor real quick.
Paige, however, giggled and looked at Derek sunnily. “I got here first! Haha!”
Derek growl was quickly overpowered by Laura’s loud voice.
“Don’t be such a sore loser, Stiles,” she chuckled, even though Stiles hasn’t said a single word in this exchange. “There’s a couple of seats at the kids’ table, some of them have finished already. You don’t mind, do you?”
Stiles felt his face flush in humiliation.
He swallowed, but then shook his head. If he spoke, his voice would shake.
“You know, you’re right,” Derek said suddenly. Fuck, that one hurt more. Stiles was careful not to glance up at him, when the werewolf released his hand.
He wanted to scream.
But then Derek said something, that made Stiles remember why he loved him so much.
“You’re right, I’ve missed those little bastards.” Derek grabbed a big plate and started filling it with all kinds of food from the table, until it was almost uncomfortably full (but enough for two people). The Hales stared at him with concern, while Talia’s glare burned Stiles’ forehead. Paige just looked confused. “Let’s go, Stiles.”
Laura started to stand up from her seat. “Der—“
He roared right in her face, eyes flashing gold. It was as close to “go fuck yourself” as he could get away with little ears listening.
“Derek!” Talia admonished, but he pretended not to hear; he turned away, grabbed Stiles’ slack hand and led him to the table not far from the main one. The kids of all ages, with the youngest being barely two, were watching them with half-opened mouths, some of them still full of food.
“Who’s ready for a tea party?” Derek’s smile was fake, but wide enough for little munchkins to believe in. Kids cried in victory, some of them becoming red from overexcitement and clambered all over Derek the moment he sat down. Stiles was quickly tugged after him.
Derek, as Stiles learned, was considered a fun uncle. He was goofy and smiled almost as much as when he was alone with Stiles; he listened carefully to all the toddler talk, even if it was a total gibberish, and fake growled when kids started to steal fun food from his plate, making them laugh.
The only person who was allowed to take food from Derek’s plate without any repercussions, was Stiles. He was reluctant to eat, though, because sharing a plate was a tradition amongst mated couples, which they were very far from. If it weren’t for Derek rolling his eyes and practically shoving a piece of smoked veal in front of Stiles’ mouth, he would remain hungry till the end.
At one point one of many toddlers that were wandering around found herself on Derek’s lap, munching on some disgusting mush, with Derek’s big hand spread over her entire belly in a secure hold to keep her from tilting over. When she finally noticed Stiles, she just stared at him unabashedly, sucking on a fist in her mouth — it was the nicest treatment he ever got from the Hale family.
The sight of Derek with kids made Stiles’ heart melt and then harden, like ice in a bottle ready to burst. It was just another thing Stiles was keeping from him. Children.
Fuck, Derek would be a phenomenal father.
Stiles’ resolve crumbled, just a little bit for him to ignore Talia’s drilling gaze on the back of his head; he put his chin on Derek’s shoulder and allowed himself to just… watch. It was the first and most certainly the last time he’d witness something like this. It was amazing. The most perfect sight.
Derek turned to him after some time, still smirking; his gaze found Stiles’ and immediately softened. The wolf then laid a lingering kiss on his brow — the closest thing to his lips.
Stiles’ heart clenched.
Later, when they’ve all gone to bed, he and Derek made out for, like, half an hour. The wolf was determined to prove something to him, but Stiles was too focused on his lips, tongue and slow grinding to figure it out. Even after he almost bit through his lip to keep in the orgasm moan, Derek clung to him more than usual.
It was sweet. And sad. Stiles hated himself for doing this.
But here, in the ocean of darkness, hidden by a night, Stiles allowed himself to cling to Derek in return. The werewolf was long asleep and Stiles just laid there, with Derek’s head on his chest, his arms tight around Stiles’ smaller frail body, and stroked his muscled back. Up and down, rhythmic and reverent.
Memories swept over him; their first meeting, when Derek literally caught him in his arms like a fucking Disney prince and saved him from death by asphalt; when Stiles first understood that no, those meetings over coffee weren’t just friendly gatherings; how Derek’s lips felt against his, how greedy his hands were, wandering and taking. One particular memory brought blush to Stiles’ face — of the night when Derek called him ‘baby’ for the first time and Stiles just fucking came all over himself and Derek’s grin turned into this insane and predatory smile, like he just found an absolute gold.
Ugh, he was crazy, both of them were, simply obsessed, like—
A barely heard ‘whoosh’ interrupted Stiles’ musings. He looked up at the door and saw a shadow outside, moving away; on the floor, near the door was a piece of paper.
Stiles slid from under Derek’s grip, hissed at the coldness of the wooden floors, before picking up the note.
All warmth from the memories disappeared so sudden, Stiles’ felt lightheaded.
‘Looking forward to tomorrow’s hunt! Love, Paige.’
A stark reality of where he was and what he had to do crushed at Stiles like a tsunami. His chest burned from heartache. He never wanted to feel like this.
In a fit of raging desperation, he tore the paper apart, piece by piece, until it was confetti, tiny and useless, like Stiles himself. After throwing it all in a bin, he crawled back in bed, put Derek’s hands around himself, like a blanket and shivered at the heat, emanating from the man’s body.
He stared at Derek’s relaxed face, so dear to him, for a creepy minute, before kissing him softly on the corner of his slack lips.
“You’re mine,” he whispered into them, squeezing his eyes shut. “At least for this night. You’re mine.”
___
Today’s hunt was just the first of the three hunts of this week. The second one would be right before the Solstice with the final one at the end, before the guests leave.
So, naturally, before the whole ordeal could even begin, it was already set to become a fiasco. And, obviously, Stiles was somehow at fault.
“What do you mean you will not be shifting?” Talia inclined her head and put hands on her hips. Great, now the entire crowd was staring at them, standing in front of the house, lit by a setting sun.
Derek remained stoic. “I mean, I will not be shifting.”
“Derek…” Andrew tutted.
“Father.”
“Enough!” Talia barked, clenching her fists, before forcing them to relax. She sneaked a brief glance at Stiles, who stood behind Derek, then turned to her son. “Come with me.”
“I’m not—“
“Now!” the alpha voice and the red gleam in her eyes made everyone shiver, but the sole recipient of her rage tensed, like a statue. As her beta, Derek simply couldn’t disobey.
He stormed back into the house, leaving Stiles alone in a crowd of wolves. He felt the weirdest desire to snap at them, but knew it would lead to his neck being snapped like a toothpick instead, so he clenched his jaw and stared at his own sneakers, shivering from the evening chill.
“They’ve never fought like that,” Laura sighed, frowning in concern, then slid her gaze on Stiles.
As if he needed more guilt upon himself.
Oddly, it was Paige that saved the tense situation.
“I hope he’ll shift soon,” she chirped. “His wolf is magnificent.”
Ignoring the agreeable murmuring of the pack, Stiles couldn’t help but ask. “You’ve seen his full shift?”
He immediately regretted the question, as all eyes landed upon him again. They looked at him like he asked what two plus two was. But he couldn’t help it, eaten alive by the fact that this girl somehow saw Derek’s wolf before him.
“Uhm…” Paige looked at him uncertainly. “Well, Laura showed me photos.”
“You know what it means, though,” Laura jumped up to Paige, forgetting all about Stiles, and nudged her a little. “His anchor is shifting!”
Paige went red like a tomato.
“Could it be? That fast?”
After that it was all giggles and whispers, Paige’s bright eyes and Laura’s happy smile.
Stiles felt sick.
Werewolves in general had their family as their first anchor. It stayed that way until they’ve met someone significant enough for it to slowly start shifting. Usually, it meant that things were serious enough for people to get ready for mating. Werewolves couldn’t achieve a full shift with their anchor so unstable, torn between an old and a new one. So if Derek refused, or rather couldn’t shift, then…
Then Stiles had to hurry up and fuck off.
He couldn’t stand in a way of Derek’s happiness, if he had really found his mate in Paige. He couldn’t be the villain of their story. Derek will probably forget him the moment the two of them mate, but even then Stiles didn’t want to leave bad memories for him. He’ll make it all look easy. Even if it was the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do.
At last, the doors to the house slammed open; Derek stormed outside, frowning hard and flexing his muscles. Talia walked out after him, trying to turn her fake smile into an encouraging one, but was failing big time. She watched with a sour expression, as Derek walked up to wide-eyed Stiles and interlaced their fingers together, before meeting his mother’s gaze.
His open defiance made Stiles incredibly proud, even though he knew betas shouldn’t behave this way. The angry set of his brows, his tight lips and bulging muscles in his jaw made Stiles’ breath hitch. He foolishly dreamed of himself, standing next to this amazing brave man; being the support he needed, the anchor he craved.
Stiles stroked Derek’s hand with his big finger and put his other hand on the inside of the wolf’s elbow. Every moment like this was precious to him right now.
Following Talia’s command, the wolves set towards the forest. Stiles lowered his gaze as everyone started shifting, excluding Derek, of course, who was standing strong and unbothered beside Stiles.
There was one more person who was almost as brave as Derek. Paige, in her form of a beautiful sandy-white she-wolf, came up to Derek and scrubbed an entire side of her body against Derek’s thigh, before lolling her tongue out and jumping away.
Stiles knew what she did — scenting and inviting him to chase and play. Courting rituals.
He found himself struck by a vicious desire to have claws or fangs —something to maul her cute face with. It was so strong that Stiles’ gums ached. It was the weirdest feeling, but Stiles was too distressed and sad to think about it.
Instead, he tried his hardest to just look away and pretend he found the trees interesting.
Derek’s reaction was as surprising as it was not; in theory he should’ve responded to his new-found anchor and chase after, but all he did was snap at her and flash his eyes. Paige whined and, after glancing at Derek with her ears pressed close to her head, tottered away after the rest of the wolves.
“So rude,” Stiles forced the chuckle out of himself to at least try to act normal.
Derek hummed. “Yeah, she was.”
“No, I meant—“
“And blind, apparently.” Derek cupped Stiles’ face and pressed a hard kiss on his neck, just below the jaw, before inhaling and finally leaning away. Stiles’ whole face felt hot; he darted a quick look around, but everybody was already gone deep into the forest. Howls echoed here and there, interrupted by high-pitch barking of pups and different signs of fun scuffles.
“You’ve been quiet.”
Stiles looked up at Derek, finding his usually bright eyes brimming with concern. After glancing around one more time, Stiles leaned against the werewolf and slowly put his head on Derek’s chest, with his forehead against Derek’s neck. The wolf’s heartbeat was fast.
“Normally, people consider it a good thing,” he mumbled in good nature.
Derek put an arm around his shoulders, heavy and warm. Grounding.
“I like it when you talk,” he said. “I don’t mean your anxious babble, but when you’re excited about something or interested, you tend to talk a lot. I like seeing you excited.”
Fuck.
“Sometimes you go on tangents,” Derek continued, voice warm and far away. Stiles felt his chest vibrate a little under his cheek. “Then I get to peek inside your crazy head.”
Stiles couldn’t help, but smirk. “You fall asleep when I ramble, don’t even start.”
Derek laughed. It was so nice to hear it, feel it.
“Well, it’s relaxing to me. I hear your voice near me and know immediately that you’re safe. I just… I like it.”
Stiles swallowed a whine.
“Well, I like your voice.” He grinned and lifted his head up to look at Derek. He was so close and soft, no signs of his earlier anger.
“Oh, kitten,” Derek rumbled and leaned down to slide his lips against Stiles’. He bit his lower lip, making a small gasp escape from Stiles’ mouth. “You’re so fucking sweet.”
The wolf certainly knew what to do and say to make Stiles melt like an ice-cream under the hot sun. Derek’s lips started getting more insistent, the kiss deeper, hands grabby and possessive. Stiles didn’t even notice how much of his body weight he was putting against Derek, even though he knew the wolf could lift him up without a single hitch in his breath.
Derek’s tight embrace, his hot hard body under Stiles’ made it so easy to forget and let go. Nothing mattered, but his touch. Derek kept whispering something in his mouth between kisses and shared gasping breaths, something sweet and loving and…
A loud howl cut through his fantasies like an axe, sudden and ruthless. It forced the two of them apart, leaving them staring at each other, as the fog of desire dissipated.
“The hunt started,” Derek breathed, looking down at Stiles’ red puffy lips.
Stiles didn’t know what that meant for them and stayed silent.
Derek’s forehead creased in thought; he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Stiles’, flexing his hands on Stiles’ thin waist. Stiles put his hands around Derek’s neck, feeling safe to let Derek do as he wanted.
“Let’s go.”
In the next second Stiles found himself being led through the forest, away from where the howl came from. Stiles frowned.
“Where are we going?”
“To the house.”
“Why?”
“It’s empty,” Derek said and turned to look at him with a sly grin on his lips. “And I miss your moans during sex.”
Something hot and shuttering spread through his body lightning fast, from his red face to the tips of his toes. Stiles spluttered and dug his heels into the soft ground to stop.
“We can’t!” Stiles hissed, trying to hide the arousal, even though Derek looked too smug already.
The werewolf snorted. “We absolutely can, baby.”
“They’d hear anyway!”
“Even better.”
He was so stupid, oh my god. His entire family fucking hated his guts and this bozo wanted everyone to know they were fucking? Stiles huffed and, still completely red in the face, broke out of Derek’s hold.
“No.”
This made Derek freeze.
Stiles’ breath caught in his throat; the wolf slowly turned to him with impenetrable gaze of pure gold focused on his face. He felt so much like prey right now, his aroused body stilling itself in place. But even now, looking into those golden eyes of a hunting predator, Stiles felt nothing but exhilaration and wildness electrifying his veins. He was astonished to realize he felt no fear.
The corners of his lips lifted up a little without his consent.
Derek intense stare slipped to his mouth, then back on his eyes. “No?”
And, as the wolf stepped towards him, Stiles took a step back.
He wanted to laugh, he was so insanely in love.
Derek froze again. Then he smiled, with his fangs glistening in a promise of danger.
Oh, shit.
“You wanna play, kitten?” Derek lifted an eyebrow and, oh god, he was so hot. The wolf growled suddenly, making Stiles jump.
As if it was some kind of a wakeup call for his body, Stiles turned in place and began running.
With little to no air in his lungs and long, but weak human legs struggling to run through the bushes and jump over the fallen trees, Stiles was getting drunk on freedom. The sounds of leaves crushing and constant growling behind him only added to the excitement.
A crazy and unbidden thought rushed through Stiles’ mind, that if Paige was in his place, she would’ve curled up and cried, but not him. He liked that he, as a human, felt no fear.
Stiles squirmed away from Derek’s arm, that kept catching him with the tips of his clawed fingers, leaving wisps of laughter on his way. Both of them knew that Derek could’ve caught him in a single jump, but instead allowed him to play and evade. His human speed was laughable, compared to the wolf’s, but Derek indulged him.
Stiles loved him.
Despite Stiles having no idea where he was headed, Derek managed to lead him right to his desired place. Stiles slammed open the door, but was unable to get to the stairs, before strong hands caught him almost painfully and lifted up.
“Got you,” Stiles heard between his own breathless giggles.
Derek swung him over his shoulder, making him huff and squeak in surprise, and run up the stairs to their room.
In a matter of a second Stiles found himself bouncing off the bed. He didn’t even manage to lift himself up on the elbows, because Derek was already on him, somehow without a shirt.
The werewolf was really fast, when he wanted to.
“Derek…”
Their lips met in a hard, bruising kiss. Derek’s sharp fangs slid upon his lips, dangerous and exciting, and Stiles couldn’t help but lick them. Derek growled right in his face, before scrunching up Stiles’ shirt up to his armpits and attacking his chest and nipples with carefully placed bites and tugs.
It was so good, so hot, so…
Stiles moaned, shutting his eyes; his hand slid on the back of Derek’s head and clutched at his hair, keeping him in place. He never wanted for Derek to stop, never ever.
The wolf kept sliding his tongue over his nipples, down his body, biting and sucking his marks. In this state of approaching ecstasy Stiles didn’t feel any pain. He was barely aware of his own hands grasping at whatever part of Derek he could reach, of his mouth open in sinful gasps.
“Der— Ah!”
A hand wrapped around his hard dick and tugged, squeezed and slid, up and down and over the pulsing head. Stiles’ back arched almost unconsciously, making Derek rumble at the sight.
“Uhhnn.”
Mouth against his, again; an insistent tongue delving deep, forcing his lips to open up. Stiles thought Derek wanted to hear him moan, but now seemed too greedy to let the noise escape.
He nearly bit through Derek’s lip when he felt something wet and insistent at his tight opening. When did he even—
“I want to fuck you,” Derek growled, sliding his mouth along his jaw. “Baby, let me…”
“Yes-s-s.”
There was some unexplained desperation to Derek’s movements, to how insistent, fast, but gentle he was in prepping Stiles. One finger, two, three. Stiles forgot all about the house and the fact that they’ve left their door open and just let it all out. His gasps turned into needy mewls. He needed Derek, craved him desperately. No need for air or blood, just let him be filled with Derek.
At last, the fingers disappeared; Derek nudged his thighs apart, sliding hands on the inside, up to his knees and down, purposefully avoiding his straining dick. He leaned over Stiles, sliding his crazy abs against Stiles’ stomach, grabbed his hair, closed his mouth over his and slid into him.
All noises were silenced, evaporated into their claiming kiss. As Derek thrust deeper and deeper, Stiles dug his hands unto his back, probably scratching the hell out of him.
“That’s it, baby, you’re so good,” Derek whispered with punched out breaths, “so tight.”
“Ah…”
Both of them were too desperate to go for soft and long. Derek barely gave him time to adjust, before setting a hard pace — a punishment Stiles hungered for. Stiles’ moans and whines clashed with sharp and vulgar slaps of skin against skin and Derek’s low growling.
“Uh, uh, uh.”
Derek moved from his mouth, puffy and abused, to his straining neck. His broad tongue traced the familiar pattern of moles down and down, until he dug his teeth into the clavicle. Stiles hissed, but reveled in this pleasure-pain. The wolf kept licking the lower point of his neck, scraping his teeth and fangs against it, sucking so hard, Stiles was sure it would be purple-blue tomorrow.
Suddenly, Derek himself let out a surprised gasp and stopped.
“Wh—“
“M’ knot,” Derek mumbled through the mouth full of fangs.
It took him a couple of seconds to realize what he was talking about. Derek’s knot.
Stiles shivered, as the maddest desire he ever felt, almost wolfish in its origin, swept through him, filling his every pore.
“Do it,” he breathed, voice coarse.
Derek looked at him in alarm, even though his body was impossibly tense — he was fighting a hard battle between rationality and instinct that kept insisting he just fuck into Stiles as hard as he could.
“But you—“ the wolf stuttered, unconsciously thrusting in and out, as if he couldn’t help himself.
He was right, normally Stiles had to be begged by Derek to knot him. The werewolf wasn’t small, not by any margin, and his knot was huge and required long and thorough preparation, which they didn’t do.
However, right now, Stiles wanted it. Fuck everything. He knew it would hurt, but it would be nothing compared to the pain of his future decisions. It would be sweet pain, long-lasting, so hot and burning and just… Fuck, he wanted to feel it. For the last time.
Stiles knew he had to make Derek’s wolf instincts overpower his brain. He glanced into Derek’s insane green eyes, flashing with gold more and more, felt his shoulders bulge underneath his palms.
Stiles surged up and sunk his teeth into Derek’s jaw, deep and hard.
Claiming.
Derek growled so loud, Stiles ears rang.
He thrust against Stiles’ asshole, grinded and pushed. Stiles leaned his head back and let out a pained mewl, soft and barely heard. Derek didn’t stop.
He thrust one more time, hard and fast, sliding both of them up the bed, and the knot finally slipped inside.
As Derek’s cum and victorious growl filled him to the brim, the tears burst out of the corners of Stiles’ tightly shut eyes. Bittersweet, just like the pain of Derek’s claim. Stiles couldn’t keep the sobs in anymore. He was so overwhelmed with tiredness and arousal, with love and mourning.
It was tearing him apart. So much of it, he could feel himself burst.
He didn’t even remember when he came. At some point he surfaced enough to comprehend that Derek was currently peppering kisses all over his face, licking up his tears, which were still flowing, and murmuring something.
It took him a gargantuan effort to actually listen, instead of just feel.
“Love you so much, baby, you’re mine, so perfect and pretty…”
The usual, then.
Another memory for the future.
They lay, exchanging sweet nothings (Derek kept whispering in a post-orgasmic haze, Stiles tried to stop tears from sliding down his temples) until the sun set. Then there was cleaning up, stealing food from the kitchen and back to the room, now with the door closed.
Slowly, the house started to fill with noise again. First with kids’ talk, then more and more adult voices. Derek once again turned Stiles into his own personal teddy-bear and kept nuzzling his neck, breaths deep and slow, despite him not sleeping.
It was a miracle none of the Hales bothered them that evening.
___
It all came crashing down after the midnight.
Stiles honestly thought Derek was out sleeping, when he heard the same noise as yesterday. Soft steps outside their door, something heavy being dropped off and then the same steps retreating.
Fuck, why couldn’t she let Stiles have him for one more—
Derek sat up abruptly. Stiles didn’t even notice he heard something.
The wolf obviously noticed his heart start beating faster and his rising anxiety and misery. He frowned and got up to investigate what made him so agitated.
“Derek…”
He didn’t listen. Dressed in long night pants that rode low on his hips, he strode to the door and opened it.
Stiles didn’t know what Paige had put on the floor there, but this something made Derek tense and freeze. He hurriedly got out of the warm bed that still smelled like sex, and hurried to put on a t-shirt — Derek’s one that he torn off from himself earlier. With small steps and baited breath, he walked up to Derek and instantly heard his low rumble. Despite the sinking feeling, he looked down.
There was a fucking dead animal.
He instantly wanted to throw up, but not because of the blood or open dead eyes — rather, because he understood what it was. A mating gift.
Paige has officially started courting Derek.
Stiles put a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t going to cry or vomit, not now at least. Instead, he looked at the wolf.
Maybe it was his stress or relatively poor eyesight, but he thought for a moment, that Derek’s eyes flashed red instead of gold. But that was ridiculous.
“Derek?”
Seemed, like Stiles’ voice woke Derek from the rage; he didn’t even turn to look at him, before grabbing the dead hare and storming down the stairs to the entrance.
“Wait—“
Derek wasn’t even trying to be quiet. He seemed to be royally pissed off.
For some reason, his heart shriveled with guilt; if Stiles wasn’t here, Derek would probably be happy to receive a gift. It was a nice gesture, a sweet tradition initiated by a cute girl, who was over the heels about Derek.
Someone rushed past Stiles, down the stairs and out. He only saw long dark hair and strong slim figure, before his heart dropped even further.
“Derek Hale!”
Talia’s booming voice undoubtedly woke the whole house. But it seemed she didn’t care. Walking outside after her, Stiles saw the mother and her son standing across each other on the pristine front yard. Derek had his arm raised, ready to throw the present away, into the darkness of the trees, but got interrupted by his mother’s cry. Stiles couldn’t look away from his strong naked torso, gleaming in moonlight; his chest was rising and falling in a rapid furious pace, eyes the color of a sun.
“What on earth are you doing?” Talia exclaimed, clenching her fists. She was a personification of anger in this moment, with her hair blowing out of her face, dark eyebrows frowned, eyes red.
Shuffling behind Stiles announced the arrival of the rest of the pack; they were all in night clothes, tired from the hunt and clearly feeling agitation, spreading through the pack bond from their alpha.
“Rejecting her.”
Someone standing behind Stiles gasped. It was Paige, white as a sheet with tears gathering in her big eyes. She had both of her hands on her mouth and a devastated gaze on Derek.
This must be so humiliating for her and her parents, standing behind her with horrified and angry expressions.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Talia stated, lifting her head in defiance.
Derek didn’t say anything, just lifted his hand once again. The Hales started murmuring and gasping behind Stiles’ back, and Stiles… just stood there, feeling heavier with every passing second.
He had to go.
“I won’t let you ruin your life.” She put more and more of her alpha power in her voice, so it started to rumble like a wolf’s growl. “Accept the gift.”
“No.”
“Accept. The gift.” Talia hollered. Derek stumbled, shoulders hunching under the direct order of his alpha. He was shaking, but didn’t lower his arm.
Talia then howled. Long and loud, it was devastating in its power, crushing like a hammer upon everybody. Stiles wanted it to stop, he didn’t want to be this… this rift between them, the family breaker, the parasite. It was Derek’s mom.
When Derek finally turned, the sight of him made everyone gasp and cry out loud. His eyes.
They kept changing color. Gold and red, red and gold, like a flicker. Seemed, like Derek himself wasn’t aware of what was going on; his gaze didn’t waver from his mother’s. He was snarling, livid at being treated this way.
Stiles didn’t know what was happening to the man he loved, he just wanted it to end. If he needed to go, he’ll disappear right this second. He would do everything for him.
Talia couldn’t take it anymore. Her patience had run out. In a flash, she appeared in front of her son, grabbed his neck, as if he was some disobedient pup, and let her claws out.
“Talia, don’t.” her husband called, distressed.
“Mom?” That was Laura, sounding close to tears.
The blood looked starkly dark against Derek’s skin. He and Talia were staring at each other, one colossus at the other, until…
Derek’s eyes stopped flashing. They remained one color. Gold.
He was shaking so hard he fell on his knees; a whine, fallen from his lips, gouged Stiles' heart out, so painful and mournful it was. His hands lifted the dead hare, completely unbidden and without his consent, and pressed it to his chest.
Stiles couldn’t look anymore. He turned away, but froze in place.
Paige was smiling, with tears of genuine relief in her eyes.
As if Derek wasn’t betrayed by his mother or Stiles’ whole life wasn’t crumbling apart. He wished he had the strength to claw her eyes out.
Stiles didn’t look at anybody anymore. He quietly left the scene, sneaking between paralyzed pack members and back into the house. He went up the stairs with a fog in front of his eyes and chaos in his mind. Stiles closed the door, fell on the bed, still smelling of both of them, and shut his eyes, wishing someone would come and knock him out, simply to escape this nightmare.
He would never forgive himself if he started crying right now, even though he wanted to bawl and wail like a banshee. They were already winning, but he couldn’t let them see just how much. Oh, the crowd outside would love to see his tears, like a final accomplishment, a breaking snap preceding a round of applause.
This whole experience was just another step towards realizing what he’d done by agreeing to go drink coffee with Derek almost a year ago. He’d deceived a werewolf from a wealthy and proud family into thinking he loved him, a human. He’d destroyed a sacred relationship between a mother and a son; and, as a motherless person, he hated himself for that.
He couldn’t believe Talia forced Derek to accept Paige’s offering. His heart clenched from the memory of Derek, hunched and completely defeated, clutching at that hare. He’d never seen the wolf so miserable. But, on the other hand… Maybe the alpha just set him straight, on the right path. Maybe, it was just that difficult of a decision that would lead Derek to the bright future.
Once Derek gets to know Paige — his mate, for fuck’s sake — he’ll see what he’d been missing on by staying with a human. She was bright and confident, beautiful and strong. A she-wolf.
Yeah, given a chance, he’d forget all about Stiles.
Fuck, he needed to get out. The thought of seeing Derek realize all of this and maybe look at Paige the same way he now looked at Stiles…
Slowly the house started filling with the muffled muttering, unhurried steps and other noises. The werewolves were going back to their beds, so the show must’ve been over. A chilly dread sank into Stiles’ body as he thought about what it could mean. Have Derek and Talia talked it out? Have he and Paige made up?
He just felt like he missed a step and was falling somewhere dark and lonely, without anyone to catch him at the bottom. Stiles will fall and shatter into thousands of jagged pieces.
He was fairly sure he heard some very distant and muffled shouting argument and felt somewhat relieved that he didn’t have a werewolf hearing. It was probably just another thing he was responsible for.
Despite the late hour, the sleep just didn’t come. Stiles was too stressed, tense and depressed to relax and even think about sleeping. He just stared at the wall, with the covers bunched at his feet. If it was cold, he didn’t feel it — there was enough ice inside.
Suddenly, without a warning, the door flew open, making Stiles startle; a worried and anxious voice thrust him out into the real world.
“Stiles!”
He didn’t have time to turn; strong warm arms slid on his torso and across his chest and tugged back, crashing him against Derek’s body. He was so warm, Stiles shivered from a sudden change and even started relaxing, though completely unconsciously. That’s what Derek’s mere presence did to him.
“I’m sorry.” The words were a turbulent mountain river, all fast desperation and sharp stones. “Stiles, please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to— I couldn’t defy her, couldn’t refuse…”
Stiles closed his eyes to stop the stinging hotness from spilling his true feelings out. He put his trembling hands on Derek’s, just to feel him. The werewolf’s sharp breathing and fast heartbeat boomed against his back; Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck form behind, making it moist from his breath. Stiles was sure his eyes were burning golden right now.
“I swear to you on my life I’m not involved with her. She can go fuck herself, I don’t care, please, believe me. I’m not going to respond to her courting, I’m not— “
“Shh, Derek, it’s alright,” Stiles whispered, because the wolf was getting more and more frantic. His sharp claws kept digging into Stiles’ sides, but he just bit his lip and winced. “I believe you; everything’s going to be ok.”
Gradually Derek’s breathing became deeper and slower. Having come to his senses a little bit, he began kissing Stiles’ neck and up to the back of his head, then leaned over to get to his cheek.
Stiles let him do whatever he wanted.
Finally, Derek stopped and laid his head on Stiles’, cheek to cheek, and whispered just above his breath: “Let’s run away.”
Stiles’ eyes flew open. He twisted his head a little, but Derek’s iron grip was holding him in place, so he just ended up with Derek’s nose jammed in his cheek.
“Derek, you can’t…”
“I can do whatever I want, if you’re with me.”
Damn, this is going to kill Stiles.
“No.”
“Why?” Derek growled instantly, pushing Stiles against his front more, so tight, that he barely managed to keep in the whimper. “You think I won’t just… You think I can’t disobey? She just caught me off guard this time. I don’t give a fuck about what her orders are. I swear, I’ll put you over my shoulder and take you to some place where no one would be able find us. You know I’ll do it.”
The words sounded insane and scary. That is, to a normal person, maybe, but to Stiles… They were a dream.
He stretched his neck more to the side and managed to land a small kiss on Derek’s sharp end of a nose.
“Promise?” he asked, forcing a small smile.
Derek stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before his whole body sagged. He turned Stiles on his back, but stayed on the side himself. The more they looked at each other, the greener his eyes became. He kept tracing Stiles’ face with his gaze, his own features growing softer and more relaxed.
Finally, he just pushed his nose under Stiles’ ear and whispered: “You’re so fucking perfect for me. I don’t think you understand that now, but… Fuck, baby, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
It was the sweetest torture to lay that night next to Derek. Stiles was melting in a warm and possessively tight embrace of his big arms with many thoughts in his head, but one more persistent that the rest.
This would be the last time he would ever fall asleep in Derek’s arms. Too bad he wouldn’t remember doing that.
___
A gentle thud of a door and the sound of slow steps woke Stiles up; after opening his puffy eyes, he saw Derek, lowering the plate full of food on the table near the bed. Noticing his awakening, the man sat on the bed, cupped Stiles’ face and kissed him on the corner of his lips.
“Hi, baby,” he mumbled against his skin and sat back up.
Breakfast in bed, morning kisses. Sounded like a final gift for Stiles. Sweet nothings, picking at his raw heart.
Stiles slid his hand onto Derek’s thigh, with nothing intimate in mind, but just to feel him, here and now. Derek smiled a bit.
“Morning,” he answered.
He didn’t want to sit up or leave their bed, wishing so hard he could forget that the outside world existed. Instead, he watched Derek, trying to imprint every bit of his handsome face to his shitty memory.
Derek’s eyebrows twitched a little.
“I’ve got you breakfast,” he offered.
“M-m.”
If he thought Stiles was going to move today, then…
Derek rolled his eyes, then slid his arms under confused Stiles and lifted him to sit on his lap. The look on Stiles’ face must’ve been quite something, because Derek immediately laughed upon seeing it.
“C’mon, princess, you’ve got to eat.” He grabbed the plate with the stack of three pancakes, covered in syrup (he must have cooked them himself, because there is no way others have suddenly decided to be generous) and five strawberries on the side.
“Did you steal them from children?” Stiles asked, begrudgingly took the fork and cut himself a bite. He leaned on Derek, while he ate, because, if the werewolf decided to spoil him, then he would take all of it.
“Not my fault you eat like one,” he scoffed, watching closely as Stiles ate. It was another weird wolfish habit of his: when he cooked for Stiles, it was almost an obsession of his to watch him eat. Stiles had a theory Derek just wanted really-really bad for him to like his cooking.
Honestly, he was just happy he got to spend the morning on Derek’s lap. It was nice and cozy, and Derek kept running his hand up and down his back. Stiles had eaten two-thirds of his breakfast, when Derek had broken the news.
“Mother wants me to join the hunt today.”
A piece of the pancake turned to ash in Stiles’ mouth. He forced it down his throat, but couldn’t bring himself to cut more, instead just stabbing the strawberry and dragging in across the plate in a pool of syrup. Derek didn’t know this, but with his words he was doing the same, but instead of the berry the man just pierced his heart.
Seeing Stiles’ tension, Derek continued in a softer tone: “It’s just for the day. I’ll return in the evening.”
Eating the breakfast was a mistake, because right now it threatened to reappear.
It was going to be today, then. When Derek’s gone and unable to stop or chase him. Stiles tried so hard to keep his breathing even.
He thought he had more time. Turns out, all he had was this morning. This breakfast.
“Stiles?”
He put the plate from his lap back to the table, then pushed himself against Derek, sliding his arms around big shoulders and burying is face against his neck. He focused on the feeling of their chests pressed together, of how warm Derek was, how tender his hands were against Stiles’ back and thighs.
“Oh, baby.”
His scent was so unique and spicy; it reminded him of sex and of the wolf’s touch, of late nights and early mornings.
Don’t cry, don’t fucking cry.
“Nothing will happen, I promise. I will not accept anything— “ but he already did, “ — and I’m yours, remember?”
Except, he wasn’t.
All their relationship came down to Stiles living his dream on a borrowed time.
“Stiles, please, I can’t take it when you’re so fucking sad,” Derek almost whined. “This hunt means nothing. Just one day closer to us getting the hell out of here, okay? We’ll go home and spend the entire weekend fucking.”
So stupid. Sex was his answer to everything.
And, since Stiles couldn’t answer with any kind of confirmation for the fear of his lie being discovered, he just went with his usual. “Promise?”
Derek chuckled and smooched him on the cheek.
___
It all happened really quick.
Stiles didn’t get to laze with Derek all morning, like he longed to, cling to him like a sucker fish and look at his stupid face like an idiot.
He barely managed to get his day clothes on after cleaning up, before Talia’s howl thundered through the house, annunciating the hunt. Stiles’ breath hitched in his throat, heart started beating faster and faster against his ribcage.
Derek’s sigh was just another punch in the gut.
Don’t worry, love, Stiles thought, you won’t even notice when your annoying b— ex will be gone.
Arms slid across Stiles’ stomach, a stubbled chin landed in between his shoulder and neck; Derek pressed himself to Stiles’ back and said, “I’ll be back, soon. Everything’s alright.”
“Derek, it’s time,” Talia called again.
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. No, no, please.
And, as Derek’s hands started to slid from his body, Stiles just lost it. He turned and sprung upon the werewolf, kissing him with everything he had; he tried to put as much love and tenderness he felt towards Derek, as he could, in that kiss. The man, after being stunned for a couple of seconds, returned his kiss with no less fervor, grabbing him around the waist and lifting him up on his toes. Derek bit and licked and Stiles longed to answer with the same, but couldn’t let the desperation and grief leak through.
Derek couldn’t know.
At the second, more frustrated howl, Derek leaned away with a gasp. He flashed his beautiful eyes at Stiles, looked down at his lips and kissed him softly once more, like he couldn’t help himself.
Stiles just looked at him and looked and looked…
“I love you,” he stuttered, voice hoarse. It was a wonder how much feeling could be put into these three little words.
Derek frowned a bit, but the words still brought a pleased smile to his face. “Love you, too.”
He pecked Stiles on the cheek one more time, slid out of his grasp, smirked and went out of the door.
Stiles wanted to shout. To run after him, glue himself to his body and scream like a psycho. Wanted to open Derek’s ribcage and hide himself there.
He stood in place, as numbness took over him. His heart was gone along with Derek, who was running further and further away into the forest.
Stiles slowly gathered his things with hands that didn’t feel like his (he allowed himself to steal Derek’s shirt, just one); went down to the first floor.
Guess, it was his fate that Cora decided to stay behind this time, though he didn’t know why.
She was scrolling in her phone, when she saw Stiles standing in the doorway and frowned.
“Can you…” Stiles swallowed against a dry throat. “Can you drive me to the nearest bus station? Please?”
He didn’t know what to make of her, having never spoken to the girl before. However, she just scowled in a painful imitation of her brother and stood up to lead him out.
___
Actually, Stiles was a liar.
He did talk to Deaton. Even though he didn’t believe it, the prospect of having magic sounded… Exciting. Not feeling like a sidekick? Sign him up!
And Deaton, after looking at his ‘aura’ or some shit, agreed to teach him. Thing is, the learning process required being sent off to a tiny cabin on snowy mountain with no electricity or water, because that would be the first task — learning how to make fire and manipulating water. Elemental magic, the most basic of all.
And Stiles… got freaked out, because there is no way Derek would’ve come with him or waited for him to be done or whatever. Deaton said it could take months, if not years to study magic, for it was actually infinite and not fully unexplored.
His relationship with Derek wasn’t that serious; he couldn’t really ask Derek to wait — the man was a healthy grown werewolf, for god’s sake, he needed a constant partner in his life, not just for sex. Therefore, Stiles chose Derek that day.
Now everything was pointless.
After finally bawling his eyes out in Derek’s loft, Stiles gathered all his things, even dirty laundry, wrote a goodbye letter, cursing himself for being overly sentimental, and went to Deaton. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to stop clutching his own copy of the loft key in his shaking hands and put it into the hiding place.
He had to hurry. It was starting to get dark; he had no doubt that Derek had already noticed his disappearance and was likely on his way to search for him. Or maybe… maybe, despite his reassurances, something did happen on the hunt. Maybe, Derek finally understood what a glorious she-wolf Paige was and shifted his anchor and now they were both running through the woods as wolves with the Hale pack howling in delight after them…
Shit, he had no fucking tears left in him to cry, yet the eyes burned anyway.
On his way to the clinic Stiles called his father, for once glad that his old dad refused to be taught how to use new technology and therefore didn’t know how to use Facetime. Stiles managed to fake his voice to sound chipper and exciting (he hoped, at least) and let him know about going on an extended study trip. He was purposefully vague, so dad wouldn’t be able to tell anybody where he was; father threatened him with breaking his diet if he didn’t call at least once a month, before wishing him good luck.
As he turned to park his old blue jeep near the clinic, he saw Deaton — a bald dark-skinned man with piercing eyes and a white doctor’s coat — already waiting for him on the porch. After Stiles stopped, they stared at each other for full on ten seconds, before Deaton walked back into the building without a single word.
Stiles sighed and, with a fast beating heart lodged in his throat, got out of the car.
Nothing’s really changed in Deaton’s clinic since he’d last been here. A sharp smell of antiseptic and wet fur, low lights and a weird buzzing against Stiles’ skin, which he attributed to some sort of magic.
As soon as he entered Deaton’s office, the man pinned him with an unnerving gaze, as if he could look right through him. It weirdly made Stiles want to cry.
“Mr. Stilinski.”
“Um, hey, doc,” Stiles’ smile was so wry, it was honestly cringy. “I, uhh… Does your offer still stand?”
Deaton continued to drill him with his gaze, making Stiles feel like a small boy who did something naughty. He didn’t know where to hide from that gaze and kept sliding his eyes towards the floor.
“What changed your mind?” asked Deaton.
How could he possibly explain that he had nothing left in him anymore? Numbness and cold enveloped him, making it easy to make a decision.
“There’s nothing keeping me here.” Stiles shrugged and looked to the side. “So, I mean, if you’ll have me…”
“It’s not the question of ‘if’,” Deaton interrupted him suddenly. Was he frustrated already? Stiles didn’t even talk that much… “I don’t know what you are, yet, though I speculate.” His frown was so small it was barely noticeable. “You have magical abilities, of that I am sure. But what differs you from others is the source of your power. It is rich and fruitful, stems from something that almost seems to regenerate itself. It will feed and amplify your magic.”
What on earth—
“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, shifting from foot to foot. “Because I’m not—“
Deaton interrupted again. “Don’t argue. You know nothing of what you’re talking about.”
Rude. If Stiles didn’t feel like a giant hole in space, he’d have retorted and went off on sarcasm. Now he only had enough energy to frown.
Deaton, in the meantime, started walking around the office, gathering things; various cases and cupboards were opened and shut, jars and vials with something dark and disgusting clinked angrily at his handling. Stiles watched him puttering around, until suddenly something whacked him on the back of the head. He quickly turned around, ready to shout, but froze in place. About ten or twelve books, old and frayed, marched on air one after another, like a soldiers’ procession, through the door and flopped in one neat pile on Deaton’s desk.
Deaton continued to mumble, as if marching books were a daily occurrence. “With all this resource you are akin to a toddler with a grenade, just one displaced tantrum away from a catastrophe. I cannot let you go uneducated.”
“About that,” Stiles scratched the back of his head. “How much does all of this cost?”
Deaton threw him a sour look. “You’ll be my apprentice and eventually replace me.”
“I mean it with the utmost respect, doc, but I don’t want to be a vet.”
“Not a vet,” Deaton huffed.
Stiles waited for him to elaborate, but the man continued his puttering.
“Then what?”
“Later.”
Stiles has never met a person more annoying than himself, but Deaton was a close one.
“I will stay with you for the night,” said Deaton and waved his hand; all his chosen items started flowing to the bag that appeared out of nowhere on the floor. “Show you around, explain the technique, then I’ve got a cat with kidney problems at ten.”
Stiles was truly glad to be included between pissing cats and neutered dogs. “Okay.”
Something bumped into his shin; as Stiles looked down he was surprised to see his own bag full of clothes and other personal things.
“How do you do all of this?”
The question was deemed unworthy of being acknowledged.
“Ready?” Deaton finally turned to him, a little out of breath and with lifted eyebrows.
“Are we taking my car?”
Deaton closed his eyes, as if Stiles just deeply insulted him. He put his hand above his head, then abruptly brought it straight down; a heat wave passed through Stiles’ body, making him take a step back. When he lifted his eyes again, there was a bright orange jagged line, similar to a lightning, casually hanging from the ceiling to the floor next to the doc. It sparkled and sizzled, sending small electric currents outside of itself.
“Shall we?” Deaton smile was somewhat smug and fake at the same time; he took a step right into the lightning and… disappeared.
Stiles stood there with his mouth open, as Deaton’s things flopped on the floor until they’ve reached the strip and jumped after their master.
Stiles swallowed, clenching and straightening his fingers. This was it. His chance to forget about everything that happened, fuck off to nowhere and dig himself into the abyss of work and studying. It sounded harsh and very difficult, certainly above his abilities, but… It was a good alternative to rotting in his own sorrow and flinching away from every stranger for the fear of seeing him.
He was leaving all of this behind. His life, his heart. D— him.
He couldn’t say his name anymore, not even in his own head. Like his brain was already busy building some sort of a mental block.
Stiles breathed out, took his heavy bag and walked into the lightning.