Dancing With My Eyes Closed

by Kittenshift17

Summary:

When Stiles saves Derek from drowning instead of just leaving him to die and save his own skin, an unintentional pack bond forms between the two of them. Derek did NOT plan for this.

Notes:

*explodes out of the dark forest, leaves in her hair and dirt smudged on her cheeks*

*shoots you a feral grin and drops a new chapter for a new ship and new fandom at your feet*

*wiggles eyebrows before bounding away between the trees*

xx-Kitten

Chapter 1: One

"Soooo... what are we gonna do if he doesn't go away?" Stiles asked softly after spitting out the pool water that’d seeped past his lips.

They both knew what he was talking about. Derek was completely paralyzed, and the dead weight of the werewolf was weighing him down. They could both feel Stiles’s strength beginning to wane after two hours of treading water.

"Risk whatever he's gonna do to us if we swim to the edge?" Derek suggested, and Stiles could tell from the look on his face that the werewolf knew that way led a gory, blood-soaked death.

"Think I'd rather drown than be gutted," he muttered.

Derek didn't say anything to that, but he didn't really have to. After two hours of this, Derek had accepted that any minute now, he would drown. He didn't trust humans, especially not Stiles, and he'd been waiting for Stiles to make the decision to save himself. To throw Derek's arm off himself and swim for the edge. To let him sink and leave him to die.

He hadn't yet, and Derek didn't know why, other than the fear of the kanima outweighing his fear of drowning.

"Maybe he'll go away," Derek suggested. "I'm pretty sure someone's controlling him."

"Controlling him to keep us in the pool?" Stiles frowned.

"He's clearly after one of us," Derek shrugged.

"Probably you, after all the times you've hunted him."

Derek agreed, though he didn't say so.

"If that's the case, he'll probably let you leave," he pointed out quietly. "You... you can let me go, you know."

Stiles twisted his head to gape at him in confusion.

"You'll drown."

"Yeah, but you won't," Derek answered seriously. "I know you're tired. If you wait any longer, you won't have the strength to swim to the edge and climb out."

Stiles gave him an indecipherable look, the skin around his eyes tightening.

"You don't have to drown with me," Derek murmured quietly because he was certain they both would if Stiles didn't let him go.

"We don't know for certain that it's after you," Stiles replied evenly, looking away from him before he began kicking a little harder and using the arm not holding Derek up to begin dragging them both through the water toward the shallower end.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying not to drown," Stiles huffed.

Derek knew he was flagging. He could feel the way the younger man's muscles trembled with every circle of limbs designed to keep them afloat. Stiles kept swimming while the kanima circled the pool edge, hissing and flicking his creepy serpentine tail. Despite the lizard skin, he reminded Derek of a cat eyeing a bird it wanted to hunt but couldn't reach.

"The pool is still too deep at the other end for you to touch the bottom," Derek pointed out.

"The disability access steps aren't," Stiles grunted, and Derek's eyes widened, remembering the school had installed a special staircase into the water that would allow those who couldn't use the ladder to still swim.

"He'll be able to reach with his claws," Derek warned.

"Not if I stay right at the edge of them. I should be able to stand up there."

He kept struggling, panting heavily and almost dropping them both under the water several times. Derek hated being so helpless, his limbs completely numb.

"You don't have to save me, Stiles," he tried again.

"Dude, you only got cut and fell into the pool in the first place because you were trying to push me out of the way when he came at us," Stiles disagreed. "I know you're fast enough to outrun that thing. You could have legged it like Erica did. But you didn't. I'm not gonna let you die for me."

The logic floored Derek.

Like, yeah, he had been trying to save Stiles, but he was bigger and stronger and faster, and the creature probably wasn't after the sarcastic teenager.

"Made it," Stiles grunted in relief, and Derek felt it when he got his feet under him on the solid steps and was no longer straining to tread water.

The creature snarled, swiping at them, and it hissed and skittering away when it got wet again.

"It's definitely afraid of the water."

Derek nodded in agreement as Stiles adjusted his grip on him, unfurling Derek's arm from around his shoulders and turning his body to put both arms around his waist, Derek's back to his chest.

He leaned back against the bollard in the middle of the step, installed to ensure no one in a wheelchair using the steps accidentally rolled into the spot that would be too deep. On the step, the water barely cleared Stiles's stomach when he stood at full height - the perfect depth for someone in a chair to keep their head above water. But to keep out of reach of the creature, they had to stay as submerged as possible.

Derek ended up practically in Stiles's lap, the boy using his own thighs to help keep Derek’s head above water, arranging his legs to balance the back of his thighs over Stiles’s knees. The alpha wolf inside his soul hated the position, so utterly vulnerable with Stiles at his back, his warm breath huffing at the side of his neck and cheek, over the top of his shoulder. His arms around his waist supported him.

"Thank you," he forced himself to say while Stiles panted tiredly, his forehead leaning against the back of Derek's head. "For not letting me drown."

"Yeah, well, you didn't let that thing gut me," Stiles muttered. "And you saved me when Isaac wanted to eat me on his first full moon."

They fell silent after that, Stiles still panting a little from the exertion - he was going to be sore in the coming days after the strain on his muscles, Derek was sure of it. The creature came back a few times, never getting close enough to the water's edge to reach them again, before eventually, it disappeared.

"He's gone," Derek said quietly, and Stiles jolted against his back, having almost dozed off.

"You sure? He could be hiding to try and lure us out."

Derek listened for the creature's heartbeat, but only the steady thump of his own and Stiles’s met his ears.

"We're alone," Derek confirmed.

"Oh, thank God. I'm freezing."

He stirred beneath Derek, beginning to drag him up the stairs to get them both out of the water.

"I think some feeling is coming back," Derek confided when Stiles had him on dry land.

"Of course it is," Stiles huffed. "Perfect timing."

Derek managed to drag himself into a sitting position right as another heartbeat reached his ears, followed by the drum of rapid footsteps. He whipped his head around, looking for the source, only to see Scott running into view.

"Stiles! Derek!" Scott yelled.

"More perfect timing," Stiles muttered bitterly. "You couldn't have shown up an hour ago, Scott?"

Derek huffed as well because it was annoying that Scott, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd had all left them there. They could have died.

Stiles looked over at Derek when Scott hauled him onto his feet. Derek met his gaze, his legs still weak.

Stiles had protected him. This mouthy, sarcastic spazz had been willing to drown for him, to die with him rather than leave him alone to save himself.

Derek couldn't remember the last time anyone had shown him that kind of loyalty. Maybe Laura? Maybe his parents? All of them wolves, all with blood ties to him. And yet here was this stubborn, smart-ass human who annoyed Derek more than anyone else he'd ever met, and he'd saved him. He'd shown more loyalty than his pack members had.

The bond snapped into place with a crack like lightning, zinging through his cells, his blood, his soul, and Derek grunted at the sting. Stiles jumped like he'd had a fright, and Scott tensed nervously as the scent of ozone and lightning flooded the space between them. Emotion poured through, heat searing along the pathway linking the two of them. Confusion. Curiosity. Worry. Anxiety. Exhaustion. All of it sizzled into him, and Derek had to close his eyes, taking a controlled breath.

"What just happened?" Scott confirmed, sniffing worriedly.

Stiles was rubbing his chest where the bond originated, his eyes fixed on Derek, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but had no words.

Derek met his gaze steadily, knowing firsthand how overwhelming a pack bond could be when it formed, even for a wolf. For a human, it had to be like being electrocuted, burned alive, and drowned all at the same time. The linking of souls, or mind, or emotions all designed to attune a packmate to another, designed to protect, to connect, to irrevocably link.

"Is... is this... a wolf thing?" Stiles asked and Derek was certain his own resignation, gratitude, confusion, and ever-present underlying anger were all flooding down the bond to Stiles in return.

"What?" Scott asked. "What happened?"

"A pack bond," Derek confirmed quietly, not daring to tell either of them that the last time he'd shared a pack bond with anyone, it'd been Laura. His family. He hadn't bonded with the wolves he'd bitten, and his bond to Peter had been burned out of him like everything else during the fire.

Something unknotted in Derek's belly when Stiles stumbled across the space between the two of them.

"What's a pack bond?" Scott asked dumbly because the boy was an idiot who kept rejecting everything wolfish instead of learning about what he'd become.

Stiles gripped Derek's waist, clinging to him, pushing into his space, and Derek managed to get his arm up, gripping the back of Stiles’s neck in return. He pulled Stiles in by it, burying his nose in Stiles’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, like caramel and sunshine, and the medicinal tang of his Adderall all currently overlaid with the stink of chlorine from the pull.

"Stiles? What's happening? What is this? I thought you two hated each other?" Scott asked, bewildered.

Derek didn't bother explaining it to him, just clung to Stiles tighter and closed his eyes relishing in the complete overwhelm of having a pack bond again, his wolf howling with joy after so long on his own. Stiles burrowed into him, arms curling all the way around him while he buried his head in Derek's neck, clinging to him tightly, hugging him while he trembled.

It might’ve been completely unintentional, and Derek was certain that when the euphoria wore off, he'd resent being so intimately linked with the spastic human, but for now, he had a new pack bondmate, and for the first time in over a year, Derek felt at peace.

Chapter 2: Two

Notes:

What's this? Two chapters in two days? Am I crazy? Hope you like it! xx-Kitten

"Okay, I think we need some ground rules," Stiles said when he walked into his bedroom three days after the pack bond had formed with Derek to find the alpha werewolf in question in the midst of climbing in through his bedroom window.

Stiles had gotten used to the casual breaking and entering from the werewolves in his life, but that didn't mean he appreciated his room being invaded when he happened only to be wearing a bath towel.

"Huh?" Derek grunted at him, blinking owlishly at Stiles once he'd righted his posture after manoeuvering his big frame through the small window. "Oh, you're not dressed."

"Well spotted," Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes even if he felt self-conscious with his shirt off. He'd seen all of the werewolves - the male ones, anyway - shirtless enough times to know they were all ripped as hell, and Stiles - skinny, defenseless Stiles - was not ripped at all.

"Why are you embarrassed?" Derek frowned at him, mild annoyance and confusion filtering down the bond linking them.

It had taken some getting used to, and Stiles was completely freaked out by the whole sharing emotions thing. Knowing that the wolves in his life could use their noses to get a good read on how he felt about particular things had been bad enough, but this was a whole other level. He could feel what Derek felt, and vice versa.

"I'm naked. In front of you."

"So?" Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly not seeing the issue more obvious than Stiles's exposed nipples.

Stiles blinked at him, confused in return.

"Okay, dude, pack bond or not, we barely know each other. Being naked in front of you was not on the cards for me tonight. Or any night."

He could feel that Derek really didn't understand his embarrassment.

"Do wolves just... go naked all the time?" Stiles frowned at him. "Born wolves, I mean. Why isn't this weird to you? It's weird to me. I barely even take my shirt off in front of Scott and I've known him since I was, like, nine years old."

An echo of understanding trickled through the bond.

"It's normal for born wolves," Derek nodded, leaning against the windowsill and folding his arms over his chest. "Some of us can do a full shift, actually turn into a wolf, and the magic doesn't transform the clothes along with us."

"Oh, my god," Stiles shook his head, fascinated and horrified. "You lived in one of those weird families where everyone would wander around nude, didn't you? Oh, dude, this explains so much about why you're such a failwolf."

"A pack," Derek confirmed. "And I'm not a failwolf."

"You totally are. And I didn't grow up in a house where people went bare-assed in front of everyone," Stiles told him. "So turn around while I put on some pants."

Derek gave him a deadpan look, and Stiles twirled his finger at the alpha, waiting impatiently until he turned around.

"And no peeking in the reflection," Stiles grumbled, also turning his back and quickly pulling on some underwear before dropping the towel. He hurried into pajamas before giving Derek the all-clear to turn back around.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Stiles asked. "Don't you have a pack of juvenile delinquents to keep out of trouble?"

Derek rumbled a growl, annoyance echoing through the bond alongside the anger that boiled perpetually beneath the surface.

"They're annoying me," Derek admitted.

"Everything annoys you. I annoy you. Why did you think you'd be better off coming here? At least your betas are afraid of you enough that you could threaten them into silence."

Derek growled again, crossing to the bed and plonking himself down on it grumpily.

Derek was always grumpy. Stiles had thought maybe the wolf just really didn't like him, but now that they shared an emotional - potentially a telepathic bond, Stiles needed to test his theories - he knew that it wasn't just him that annoyed Derek. Everything did. He woke up angry, he went to sleep angry, he was angry while he worked out, he was even angry when he jerked off.

Yeah, that'd freaked Stiles the fuck out the first time he'd felt echoes of pleasure and excitement and bliss barrelling down their bond, especially since it'd hit him in the middle of the afternoon when he'd - luckily - cut out of school early during a free period. Stiles had almost crashed his Jeep when the unexpected tidal wave of sensation had swamped him. But even that had still been riddled with anger. Stiles didn't like to think about it, especially since he assumed Derek could feel it whenever Stiles did the same thing. Stiles was a teenage boy. He did it often. So far Derek hadn't said anything, but Stiles was pretty sure he would if he kept it up at his current rate.

Three times a day was totally healthy for a teenage boy. He'd looked it up.

"What are you doing tonight?" Derek asked because as freaky as it was—and Stiles had had a full-on meltdown when Derek came to his room in the hours after the bond formed between them to explain everything to him—the bond had definitely triggered a change in attitude from the alpha, at least where Stiles was concerned. This change frequently manifested as Derek turning up and wanting to spend time with Stiles.

"I have a raid," Stiles informed him.

Derek raised his eyebrows in confusion clearly having no idea what he meant by that. Typical jock behavior, Stiles rolled his eyes.

"World of Warcraft," Stiles said. "It's a computer game, an MMO."

Derek just kept staring at him, and Stiles might hate being bonded and having the werewolf feel his every emotion, but it certainly helped him decipher what Derek's non-expressions (read: murderous scowls) meant.

"Massive multiplayer online game. I'm part of a guild, which is a group of friends from around the world, and we all join at the same time and, as a collective, undergo challenges and fight bosses."

"How long does it take?"

Stiles shrugged.

"A few hours, usually."

More annoyance tickled through the bond.

"What do you want from me, dude?" Stiles frowned. "I had a life before your freaky alpha werewolf magic hitched your brain to mine, or whatever. I've been raiding with these guys since I was thirteen. I'm not ditching them just because you bit a bunch of maladjusted teenagers that you haven't formed pack bonds with, and you want to hide from them in my room."

Derek growled at him again, but Stiles could sense the hints of understanding sprinkled into frustration coming from the wolf.

"I'd invite you to play, but there's a player limit on raiding parties. And you don't have a PC. You don't even have a house to store a PC. You need a house. Hey, I know! You can use my laptop to look for real estate and get a house."

"I have a house."

"You live in an abandoned train car," Stiles disagreed since Derek had hauled Stiles back to said train car the night after the bond had formed, insisting Stiles officially meet the other pack members (like he hadn't already been beaten up, threatened, or extorted by all of them already). "And that train car is inside a walled-up train station so old that Beacon Hills doesn't even have a train station listed as one of the services offered here in the past six decades, dude."

"I have a house in the preserve."

"You have a demolition zone waiting to happen in the preserve."

Derek bared his fangs at him, flashing red eyes.

Stiles bared his blunt human teeth right back at him, knowing for a fact that Derek wouldn't hurt him. He'd explained on the first night that, more than anything else, the pack was about connection and safety and trust and that the act of hurting or killing a fellow packmate went against a wolf's nature except where the wolf was failing to lead them or already attacking first. Stiles wasn't a wolf, so he didn't have those instincts, but he knew Derek did and that the alpha would never hurt him ever again, no matter what he threatened.

"Don't be such a sourwolf," Stiles chided, grabbing his laptop and opening it quickly, punching in his password before handing the device to Derek. "You need a house to live in that's structurally sound."

"I'm harboring a fugitive and two runaways, Stiles," Derek reminded him. "I can't protect them in a house."

"Yeah, well, you can't protect me, your squishy breakable human packmate, from tetanus or mold poisoning or having a building fall on me if you keep dragging me to unsafe locations that you've somehow deemed worthy of making your den. So, find a house, okay? I have a raid."

He went to his desktop and quickly logged into his game, sliding his headset over his ears and joining Discord to talk to his friends. He could feel the resentment and annoyance rolling off Derek, undercut with anger and resignation, and Stiles watched the wolf huff before he got comfortable on Stiles’s bed and began clicking around on his laptop, presumably looking for places to live.

Stiles got absorbed in his game the minute the raid kicked off, paying no more attention to Derek despite his frequent huffs and growls from the bed. Derek, meanwhile, was trying to blink through the haze of emotions pouring through the bond from Stiles while he played, happiness and excitement, little bursts of adrenaline, flashes of frustration and rage, all flooded the bond while Stiles smack-talked his friends, the bosses he was fighting on thee screen, and everything else in between.

It was getting difficult to untangle Stiles's emotions from his own as he diligently searched the housing market of Beacon Hills, looking for anything vaguely livable that would be defensible. It was all the harder because Stiles talked loud and laughed even louder, and the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart pumping while he played was a perfect cocktail of distraction—not to mention the sound of Stiles's growling stomach.

Clicking into a new window, Derek pulled up the website for the local pizza shop and placed a delivery order, fishing his wallet from his pocket and punching in his credit card info to pay to have it brought to the door. He was pretty hungry too, now that he thought about it.

"No, no, no fuck! I died!" Stiles said into the microphone. "Scott! Heal me!"

Derek looked over at that, frowning to learn Scott also played. Setting aside the laptop when he'd bookmarked a couple of properties that he might drive past later tonight when there would hopefully be no Argents prowling the streets and hoping to run into him, Derek got off the bed and moved over to stand behind Stiles. His sunshine and caramel scent was overwhelming tonight. He was fresh from his shower and clearly having a lot of fun playing his game.

Derek folded his arms over his chest, standing behind Stiles's chair, shoving his hands into his armpits to keep from putting them on Stiles's shoulders, touching the warm skin of his neck, or running his fingers through his hair. His wolf was riding him hard with how badly it wanted to scent Stiles, desperate to cover his packmate in his scent and to get that sunshine and caramel scent all over himself in return until their scents were mingled, making something uniquely pack.

Derek watched the screen without understanding anything that was happening. It looked like chaos. There were what looked like hundreds of individually moving characters on the screen, flashes of light, depictions of violence, and blinking lights everywhere. It hurt Derek's eyes trying to keep up with all of the different spots on the screen where things wanted to snatch his attention, and he suddenly understood how Stiles's chaotic thought trains must operate.

"We're so close, you guys," Stiles said, clicking madly. His adrenaline spiked, and his heart pounded as the creature in the middle of the screen they all seemed to be attacking was losing strength. At least Derek assumed it was based on the bar above its head, which kept getting less full.

Stiles's emotions were a heady concoction, and Derek had to fight the urge his wolf had to rise to the surface, sensing the adrenaline pouring off Stiles and immediately searching for a threat.

"Holy fuck!" Stiles jumped when Derek unfolded his arms, giving in to the wolf's urge to touch and smoothing a hand over his left shoulder, fingers trailing over the side of his neck before sliding under the neckline of his shirt and twitching across his chest in the direction of his rabbiting heart.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just got a fright. All good," Stiles said into the microphone though he didn't try to shrug Derek away or stop madly clicking and tapping the keyboard.

Derek's wolf didn't settle with the simple touch, his other hand trailing to the hair at the back of Stiles's head, fingers playing with the little tufts at his nape, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the soft skin behind his right ear. Stiles leaned back into the touch, remaining focused on his game. Derek was content to keep watching him play while he scented him until he heard a car pull up outside. Lifting his nose toward the open window, he caught the smell of pizza and cheese grease, and he grinned.

Stiles made a little sound of complaint when Derek let go of him, but he was in the middle of focusing on his game, so he couldn't stop while Derek headed downstairs to meet the delivery guy at the door.

"Woah, you're not Stiles," the teenager on the porch holding the stack of pizzas blinked at Derek dopily.

"I'm not," Derek agreed, taking the pizza and handing the kid his tip - twice the usual amount because he didn't have anything smaller on hand.

"Holy shit, thanks, dude."

Derek rolled his eyes as the kid stumbled away beaming, the name Greenberg stamped on the back of the lacrosse jersey he was wearing. Closing the door, Derek carried the prize back up the stairs to Stiles's room. Stiles's head jerked up at the smell of them when he walked in.

"Oh my god, is that pizza? Did you get pizza? I'm starving!" he declared. "Dude, I love you."

Derek blinked at the declaration, his wolf just as startled.

"What? No, mind your business, Scott. I have been gifted pizza. Shit, how am I supposed to eat and play at the same time? Urgh! And we can't pause and take, like, ten minutes? Guys! Oh, I'm so hungry..."

He kept clicking while Derek put the boxes on the bed since there was no room on Stiles's desk.

"No, I get it. Yeah, yeah, Mark and his dumb kids, with their dumb homework and bath times and bedtime, get breaks all the time, but Stiles doesn't get three minutes to eat dinner. I'm not saying this is nepotism, but it's totally nepotism." Stiles complained, and Derek's brow furrowed before he shrugged and fished a slice of pie from the box, taking a big bite before crossing the room to Stiles. "No, fuck off, Mark. It's totally nepotism. Just because you, like, founded the guild, everyone lets you get away with cutting raids short and shit because you couldn't wrap your tool, and now you have triplets or whatever. Twins? I don't freakin' know, dude, you take enough breaks that I'm pretty sure you've got octuplets."

Derek nudged Stiles's cheek with his pinky, offering him the bitten slice of pizza and raising his eyebrows when Stiles twitched his gaze up to him briefly.

"Oh my god, dude. Are you serious?" Stiles asked, his eyes widening and gratitude flooding through their bond. "Aww, you're the best. I take back every bad thing I ever said about you."

He took a big bite of the pizza, and Derek was mildly concerned by how much his wolf liked the sight of Stiles enjoying the meal he'd provided when Stiles groaned around the mouthful, his eyes rolling up in pleasure.

"I'd be totally furious about being handfed like a baby if I wasn't starving, but since Mark won't let anyone else take breaks, this is the only way I'm eating before midnight. Oh my god, so good."

He took several more bites while Derek held it for him. Derek stole bites of the same slice while he chewed before he returned to the box for more. He brought it back with him and balanced it on top of the printer, feeding Stiles bite after bite. The sense of satisfaction it brought him as Stiles's hunger was replaced by happiness and contentment had Derek rumbling a deep sound low down in his chest, but he didn't stop until Stiles took one last nibble and then shook his head.

"So full," he muttered. "Thanks, sourrwolf."

Derek hummed, fetching another box to keep eating because Stiles might be satisfied, but Derek was still starving. He stood there wolfing down pizza while Stiles kept playing until all the pies were gone.

True to his prediction, Stiles played the computer until almost midnight before bidding his friends goodnight and ripping his headset off, slumping back in his chair tiredly and scrubbing his hands over his face. Derek, having grown bored of watching a game he didn't understand, was back on the bed with Stiles's laptop open, watching a movie, when the teenager groaned his way to his feet and stumbled out the door. Derek cocked his head, listening to see where he was going before hearing the bathroom door closed and tuning him out.

When Stiles came back, he stopped in the doorway rubbing one eye, squinting at Derek.

"Hey, you're still here," he smiled. "And you fed me pizza."

Derek moved the laptop to the side and sat up, but Stiles only bulldozed him back down onto his back before clambering on top of him and pressing his face into Derek's neck. He tensed because a wolf never liked anyone at his throat, but Stiles only hummed contentedly, going boneless on top of him.

"Thanks for the pizza," he mumbled tiredly and Derek curled his arms around Stiles sensing through their bond that he wanted affection.

"You're welcome," he said.

"Did you find a house?"

"Maybe."

Stiles lifted his head, squinting into Derek's face. "Really?"

"Mmm, I was going to drive past a few of them; check them out."

"When? Tomorrow?" Stiles guessed.

"Now," Derek shrugged.

"But it's dark. We won't be able to see anything."

Derek hummed at the 'we' and its implications.

"You won't," he agreed smugly. "I can see just fine in the dark."

"Werewolf," Stiles remembered. "So smug. Smugwolf, they should call you. Are we going now? Did you even drive here? Why are we going at night?"

"Less chance of running into the hunters on the prowl at this time of night. Gerard is still hunting me," Derek reminded him.

"That guy really needs to die," Stiles frowned. "Can we kill him?"

"There's plenty more where he came from, and they'd all come calling if we killed him."

Stiles sighed.

"You know, just once, someone needs to go with my plan of letting people die. It would solve all our problems. If we let the kanima die, no more kanima."

"You're the one who keeps getting in my way when me and my betas try to kill Lydia."

"Because it's not Lydia."

"An alpha bit her, Stiles," Derek reminded him.

"Yeah, months ago."

"She went missing, naked, in the woods for three days."

"Two days."

"Whatever. She's the kanima."

"She's not the kanima. You also bit Jackson, didn't you? How do we know it's not him."

Derek growled at him.

"What? It's a fair question."

"Jackson's body is fighting the bite," Derek confided quietly. "It's not him."

"He's more of a snake than Lydia."

"Is he, though?" Derek argued doubtfully. "Lydia's pretty snakey."

"Lydia is a strawberry blonde goddess."

Derek rolled his eyes and tipped Stiles off his chest.

"Are we going now? Let me put on shoes," Stiles sprung to his feet when Derek sat up again. "Hey, dude, the door. My dad's not home, so we don't have to come and go via the window. Okay? Let's be human and take the stairs."

Derek flashed his eyes in annoyance, but he followed Stiles down the stairs just the same, leading the human down the street and around the corner to where he'd hidden the Camaro at the edge of the woods by Stiles's house.

"Stealthy," Stiles teased as he helped himself to the passenger seat and immediately began tinkering with the radio. "Where to first?"

Derek didn't answer. He just started the car and zoomed off down the street toward the first property he'd liked, laughing when Stiles reached for the grab handle and clung on for dear life.

Chapter 3: Three

"Absolutely not," Stiles declared as Derek navigated the Camaro through one of the rougher suburbs of Beacon Hills - one where Stiles knew the local police force spent a disproportionately large amount of time responding to callouts.

"You haven't even seen it," Derek grumbled.

"And I don’t need to. I don't have a death wish. It won't happen in this suburb if you ever want me to visit your little wolf den. Turn around and head to the next one."

"But it's a warehouse I can refurbish into apartments and fit the whole pack into without us living on top of each other," Derek tried.

"No chance."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'm being realistic. I'd be safer in that rotting train car than driving into this neighborhood. I'm the Sheriff's kid, dude. I'd be stabbed in retribution for any number of arrests Dad's had to perform down here within a week."

Derek growled at the thought, guided the car into a wide U-turn, and drove them back across town toward the school.

"Are they all in dangerous neighborhoods?" Stiles asked when Derek pulled up in front of a different location near the local addiction treatment facility.

"Did you miss the part where I said I'm harboring a fugitive and two runaways?" Derek deadpanned, annoyance trickling through the bond they shared. "And how the Argents are actively hunting me to seek retribution for Kate's death? Driving around town is dangerous enough. I can't just move into a nice apartment by the pre-school."

"You literally could. It would be safer. Gerard won't attack you if there's a chance human kids will be injured in the process."

Derek shot Stiles a look that suggested he was dumber than a rock if he believed that.

"No, I'm serious," Stiles insisted. "Something in a polite neighborhood where it would be harder for them to cover up if they just open fire on you or try to set your place on fire again or something..."

"It wouldn't stop Gerard," Derek disagreed. "And again, the fugitive thing. If there’s one thing humans are good at, it’s keeping a watchful eye out if their kids are nearby. Someone would notice Isaac in a heartbeat if we lived somewhere safe and family-oriented."

"We need to get Isaac's name cleared," Stiles sighed, slumping a little in his seat. "Even if he is a dick."

Amusement trickled through their bond, and Derek shot him a look across the center console.

"I have no idea why you hate him. What’s he ever done to you?”

"He's a smug asshole. As soon as he was bitten and had all that fancy werewolf strength, he started lashing out at other people and using his newfound power for evil.”

"For evil?” Derek scoffed. “You mean when he ran away from his abusive father so he wouldn't be beaten and locked in a freezer for the hundredth time? You think the kid who was orphaned and wrongfully accused of murder a few days after becoming a werewolf is somehow evil?"

Stiles glared at him.

"I mean, when he and your other little psychotic puppies started hunting my friend, it was evil behavior - which, dude, what the hell is wrong with you that you picked an abuse victim, an epileptic, and the biggest loser in school to be in your pack? The point is, that asshole went from a cowering, timid wallflower to rocking a leather jacket - and really, with the leather jackets? Really, Derek? - and he turned into a psycho, scratching up lockers and hunting my friend with the intention of killing her. Classic disempowered little bitch turns into an ultra-douche the second he has a speck of power."

Derek shot him an annoyed look across the console. "I told them all to hunt Lydia."

"Because you're also an ultra-douche," Stiles argued.

"The worst thing Isaac has done with his newfound strength has been to scratch up a couple of lockers. He’s not evil."

"He tried to eat me."

"No, he snarled at you," Derek corrected passive-aggressively, downplaying Stiles’s trauma like an asshole.

"Um, let’s review, shall we? Newly bitten werewolf. First full moon. Lunging and snarling at Stiles in an enclosed space. He would've attacked me and probably ripped my throat out and eaten my gizzard if you hadn't gone all alpha on his ass."

"Your gizzard? Really?"

"Which was also more evidence of your ultra douchiness. "I'm the alpha."”, Stiles mocked, mimicking the voice Derek had used that night. “Like. Dude. So douchey."

Derek smirked meanly, amusement and danger trickling down the bond between them instead of annoyance, and Stiles fought the urge to gulp, suddenly a little nervous.

"You do know I could smell your reaction to me doing that that night. Right?"

"I don't know what you're implying," Stiles huffed, looking away from Derek’s blood-thirsty expression quickly, his cheeks flooding red at the knowing gleam in Derek's eyes.

"Arousal has a very particular scent," Derek replied smugly before jerking the car wheel as he took them around a corner way too quickly because he'd been too busy looking at Stiles to see it coming up.

The rear end spun out a little, tires skidding on the gravel scattered on the tarmac, and Stiles grunted when Derek's palm slammed into his sternum, the werewolf using the other hand to guide the car through a series of fishtails while he pinned Stiles in place.

When he’d guided it back under control, Stiles looked over at him before glancing meaningfully down at the hand still on his chest.

"You totally just soccer-mummed me," Stiles said dryly.

Derek ignored him because right at that moment, red and blue lights began to flash, and the police siren gave a little whoop of warning, a police cruiser making a quick u-turn to follow them.

"Oh no," Stiles breathed, twisting to see it was his dad’s cruiser on their tail.

"Frigging police," Derek growled, but he guided the car to the nearest safe shoulder and waited.

"He's gonna kill me," Stiles breathed, horrified at being caught out so late at night with a guy his dad definitely considered to be bad news. “I’m supposed to be in bed. It’s a school night. Oh, my god, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to lose his mind when he sees I’m riding around with you, Mr. Recently-Wanted-for-Murder.”

"Yeah, thanks for that," Derek said dryly.

"He's probably gonna shoot you," Stiles panicked, hands flailing as he twisted back around, wondering what chance he had of legging it out of sight without being spotted or chased if he were to bail out the door and make a run for it.

"I'll heal."

"He still thinks you're a person of interest. He’s totally gonna shoot you for having me out after curfew, you, a wanted murderer."

"I was exonerated."

Derek was stoic as he fished his license and registration from their hiding places, and Stiles tried not to hyperventilate, especially since Derek seemed bored, but the bond was telling him he was nervous meeting his new packmate's father. Even though they'd met before. Multiple times when Derek had been questioned and arrested.

"Derek Hale," Sheriff Noah Stilinski said gruffly when he walked up to the window and peered inside. "You want to explain to me why you're driving recklessly.... Stiles?"

Stiles squinted into the torchlight his dad shone through the window and crouched a little to see who was riding shotgun.

"Hi, Dad," Stiles tried to smile. "Uhhh, fancy seeing you here. H-how’re you doing?"

Noah squinted at him, clearly frustrated.

"Hale, you want to explain to me why my teenage son is in your passenger seat?" Noah demanded, his voice taking on a protective edge.

"It's not whatever you're thinking, Dad," Stiles rushed to say before Derek could answer. "I told you Derek was a... friend? We're just hanging out. Running out for pizza?"

"Stiles is helping me determine decent neighbourhoods in Beacon Hills to live with his extensive knowledge of crime laden suburbs," Derek spoke over Stiles.

"At one o'clock in the morning?"

"Is it that late?" Stiles spluttered. "Shit. We lost track of time."

"Don't you raid until midnight on Thursdays?" His dad demanded, his eyes accusing. "Get out of this damn car right now."

"I can take him home," Derek offered.

"You just got pulled over for reckless driving."

"It was my fault. I was distracting him, Dad," Stiles piped up, not moving except to lean more into Derek’s personal space so he could shoot pleading looks at his dad to just let them go and stop making Stiles’s life so awful.

Noah's eyes narrowed, and Stile’s brow furrowed when alarm and frustration shot through the bond as Noah lowered the torch to Derek's lap. Embarrassment trickled in from Derek at the movement. Stiles blinked, confused, before understanding lit that Noah thought the distraction Derek had been enduring was receiving a blowjob while driving.

"Oh my god, not that kind of a distraction! We're not... he's not... and he's... oh my god! Dad!"

"Out of the car. Both of you," Noah growled.

"Oh my god, he's gonna kill us," Stiles breathed to Derek when Noah stepped back and opened Derek's door.

"Stop panicking and stop lying to him and it will be fine."

Stiles scrambled out of the car, panic radiating through his limbs and swamping their bond. Derek got out more sedately, trying to be respectful but also trying to avoid the retinal glare from the lights the Sheriff kept pointing at him.

"Have you been drinking tonight, Hale?"

"Oh my god, Dad. Stop."

"No, sir," Derek said.

"Taken any drugs?"

"No, sir."

"Dad, he's not a delinquent. We’re just driving around…"

"Stiles, shut up and get in my cruiser."

“Oh, c’mon,” Stiles whined, embarrassed that his dad was being such a stiff. “We didn’t even do anything bad. You’re being so uncool right now.”

"It's fine, Stiles," Derek nodded at him when Stiles stubbornly didn't move.

"Dad, you're being a jerk. We were just talking," Stiles argued, ignoring the alpha’s words. "And we really are driving around looking at real estate. Derek's family home burned down; maybe you remember? He needs somewhere to live that isn't a dump."

Noah narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"No one looks at real estate at one in the morning, Stiles. It’s too dark to see anything, and everyone reasonable is asleep."

"We look at real estate at one in the morning. See? Here we are, looking at real estate," Stiles pointed out, spreading his arms widely and inviting Noah to look.

"Do you want to be grounded?" His dad appealed, voice steely. "Because unless you do, I suggest you get your ass into my cruiser before I arrest you for being a public nuisance."

Stiles spluttered, his hands fluttering uselessly while he looked at Derek. Derek, who was calm with only his usual underlying anger and mild frustration seeping through their bond.

"Go," he encouraged. "We're okay here. Right, Sheriff?"

Noah eyeballed him, but he nodded. Stiles gulped, glancing at Derek and his dad before ceding defeat and stumbling over to the car. He kept the passenger door open to try and hear what they said, leaning on the frame and not even sitting in the seat properly. Derek shot him a look, and Noah did the same before the Sheriff turned his full attention to Derek.

"Explain why my son is in your car at one in the morning," he demanded.

"As he said, we're looking at neighborhoods where I might be able to find a house. Sir."

"At this time of night?"

Derek shrugged.

"He's only seventeen," Noah said darkly, his expression implying a lot of things Derek wasn't expecting anyone to ever imply about him and Stiles.

"I know that."

"What are you? Twenty-five?"

"Twenty."

Noah's expression flashed with surprise before his brow furrowed heavily.

"Well, that’s slightly less alarming, but you’re still too old for him."

"We're not... We're just friends," Derek lied because it was impossible to be just friends when you were bonded packmates, but he couldn't explain that to a human.

"Just friends? You'd have me believe you're riding around with him at one in the morning because you're just friends?"

“Isn’t that what teenage boys do with their friends?” Derek appealed knowingly because it’s what he’d done with his friends when he’d been a teenager.

The Sheriff scowled at him.

“You’re not a teenager. If you’re carrying on some kind of romantic relationship with my son, I’d suggest you tell me now, Hale.”

"If I was carrying on a romantic relationship with him, by one o’clock in the morning, we wouldn't be wasting time driving around town and possibly running into the cops," Derek answered, well aware of the taunt the answer offered but unable to resist. "If we were doing any of the things your line of questioning implies, Stiles would be passed out in my bed right now... Respectfully, sir."

Noah's eyes bugged for a moment, his jaw working furiously and his hand twitching for his gun before he balled it into a fist.

"How did you even meet Stiles?" Noah scowled, looking the same sort of frustrated he often looked when dealing with Stiles’s roundabout way of bamboozling him and otherwise antagonizing him.

"He kept trespassing on private property when I was looking for my sister before she was found dead."

"He and Scott accused you of murdering your sister. And of several other murders. How are you possibly friends with him?"

Derek furrowed his intense eyebrows and looked in Stiles’s direction.

"I'm sure you know better than anyone that Stiles has a tendency to take care of other people," Derek answered truthfully since it was something he'd noticed despite all the sarcasm and spastic flailing. "Particularly when it comes to those falling into destructive habits to cope with overwhelming grief. He refuses to let me process my grief over my sister's death alone..."

Noah's stiff posture loosened with a defeated brand of knowing all too well.

"He's a good kid like that," he said softly. "Controlling little shit probably wouldn't have let you have alcohol or drugs before driving him anyway.... so why were you swerving?"

Derek looked away from Stiles, who was flooding the bond with curiosity and anxiety where he strained against the door, trying to hear what they were saying, and back to the Sheriff.

"Stiles was trying to lecture me about what constitutes a safe and acceptable neighborhood to move into. Very… uh… animatedly."

“He flailed and smacked you on accident, didn't he?" Noah sighed, the tension bleeding from his limbs like he knew his son all too well.

Derek’s lips twitched a little.

“Am I still going to be arrested?”

Noah shook his head. 

“No,” he sighed. “Go home, son. It’s late. Get some sleep. You can worry about realty when the sun’s up.”

Derek nodded, stepping back towards the car. He could feel Stiles’s anxiety spiking, could hear his heart rabbiting where he stood, still straining against the door.

“I can take him home,” Derek offered, unwilling to part with his packmate.

“You really think I trust that the two of you would go straight home?” Noah raised an eyebrow.

No, Derek knew he wouldn’t, and he was right to doubt because he had no intention of taking Stiles home if he was allowed to drive off with him. Fishing his phone from his pocket, Derek texted Stiles to unlock his window before shoving it back in his pocket, getting in the car, and driving away.

Stiles watched him go, frowning as his phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Really?” Stiles asked hostilely of his dad when the Sheriff walked back to the car and got in.

“Did you think I’d let you leave with him?” Noah smirked.

“Dad, you embarrassed the hell out of me just now.”

“I’d be more worried about how you’re grounded than how embarrassed you are.”

“What? You said if I got in the cruiser, I wouldn’t be!”

“I also said if you didn’t do it, I’d arrest you,” Noah argued. “So be grateful you’re just grounded.”

“This is so unfair!”

“Well, I think it’s unfair that I place trust in my son to be a certain place, only to find out he’s defied my rules and instead is being driven all over town at one in the morning by a known fugitive!”

“If he was still a fugitive, you’d have arrested him,” Stiles argued. “Derek was exonerated. And we were literally just driving around. How is this even remotely fair?”

“How do you even know him?”

“Ummmm,” Stiles flailed. “I don’t know from around. He’s… and he’s… we… he’s only a couple of years older than me, you know. He used to go to my school, like, when I was young – after the fire, he and his sister left town… and I dunno, Dad. He’s… she was all he had, you know? And she got killed. And now he’s alone….”

A deep and abiding sadness filled him at the thought of what it must be like for Derek, knowing that he was, in fact, the last surviving member of his family. Stiles had known, but not really given it too much thought before now, but Derek was the last Hale. With Peter killed and Laura gone, Derek was the last. Stiles’s heart ached for him at the thought because he knew firsthand the pain of losing a family member.

It'd damn near killed Stiles when his mother had passed away, and she was just one person. Derek had lost everyone. His mum and his dad. His siblings. His aunts and uncles. Cousin. They were all gone. And if they’d been Pack – if they’d shared the kind of intimate pack bond like the one that’d formed between Stiles and Derek that night in the pool…

Stiles's eyes prickled with tears.

He could feel everything Derek felt and sense him all the time. He couldn’t imagine going back to not being able to feel him; he couldn’t imagine how awful it must feel to have a bond like that break, to feel it shatter, leaving a tattered, broken link behind that led to nowhere. Oh, god, Stiles needed to hug Derek so hard.

“He’s got no one, Dad,” Stiles croaked to his father, eyes still prickling with tears. “He’s barely that much older than me, and his entire family is dead. I can’t just… he shouldn’t be alone.”

Noah’s stoic expression melted into one of empathy and sadness and a little pity with a whole lot of knowing and understanding behind it.

“You’re a good kid to be looking out for him, even after getting off to a rocky start,” he said quietly, reaching over to give Stiles’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “But you’re supposed to be home in bed, Stiles. It’s still a school night.”

Stiles sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat and clipping his seatbelt before peering out the window.

Noah did the same before starting the car and driving toward their home.

“You’d tell me if there was anything… romantic… going on in your life, right?” Noah asked when they were halfway there.

“Oh my god, Dad. I’m not sleeping with Derek.”

Noah looked sideways at him, his expression doubtful. Stiles squirmed in his seat, mortified.

“I’m not,” he insisted. “I don’t think Derek’s into guys. And I still have a crush on Lydia.”

Noah quirked an eyebrow. “Based on what he said to me, I’m pretty sure he’s open to the idea of being with a guy. And that guy had better not be my underage son.”

“Okay, first of all, I’ll be eighteen in like, two months,” Stiles grumbled. “And second, what?! What did he say to you? Oh my god, you talked to him about the idea of sleeping with me? Are you insane?”

“Let’s just say he was pretty clear on what the two of you would be up to right now if you were a couple, and it wouldn’t be driving around at this time of night.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned, putting his hands over his face in horror. “No, no, no, no, no. You asked Derek Hale if he’s having sex with me?”

“He implied that you would be, were you an item.”

“Okay, wait, so he denied we’re item by telling you he’d have been screwing my brains out if we were together?”

“Stiles, do you know what phrases I never, ever want to hear in reference to you?”

“We’re sorry to inform you that your son has been arrested?” Stiles guessed.

Noah smacked him upside the back of the head for being a smartass.

“You’re underage,” Noah reminded him. “So I don’t want to hear phrases like ‘screwing my brains out,’ are we clear?”

“Oh my god, it sounds horrible when you say it,” Stiles blanched, gagging a little.

“Right back at you, kid. Now, get the hell out of my car and get to bed. If I catch you out after curfew again, I’m taking away all of your electronics.”

“I need my electronics for school.”

“Nice try, but I went through the schooling system without them just fine, and you can too.”

“Oh my god, Dad, you’re not supposed to self-burn about how geriatric you are, dude.”

“Bed!” Noah snapped. “Now!”

“Alright, alright,” Stiles complained, throwing open the door in the driveway. “I’m going. Geez.”

“Go to sleep,” Noah said. “Wait, are you in your pajamas?”

“Yeah.”

“You went riding around in your pajamas with this Hale kid?”

“Yeah?”

“And I’m supposed to believe you’re not dating.”

“Would I go on a date in my pajamas?”

“There’s no accounting for your sense of style, son.”

“You taught me everything I know,” Stiles argued, grinning.

“Bed,” Noah sighed. “I’ll see you in the morning, kid. And don’t forget, you’re grounded.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Unfair.”

“We had a deal, you broke it. Grounded.”

Stiles rolled his eyes because his dad wasn’t off shift often enough to enforce any kind of grounding anyway.

“Whatever you say, old man,” he sighed. “Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too. Even if you did embarrass the hell out of me.”

“I think you mean that I complimented you. It’s a compliment to believe someone like you could land a good-looking guy like Hale.”

“And I hate you,” Stiles groaned.

Noah laughed as he backed the cruiser out of the drive, waving to Stiles as he drove off down the street. Stiles grumbled to himself on his way up the porch, fishing his house keys from the pocket of his hoodie and unlocking it before making his way up to his room.

“Oh my god! Really?” Stiles demanded when he walked into his bedroom and found Derek already there, sprawled on the bed like he’d never left.

“We left the window open,” Derek smiled at him.

Stiles threw up his hands in defeat and crossed to his computer to shut it down for the night before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Bedtime?” Derek guessed when Stiles turned off several of the lights as he returned to his room, teeth scrubbed and breath minty.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed. “I do technically have school in the morning.”

Derek nodded slowly, watching Stiles cross the room and fuss about a bit more, preparing for bed.

“Are you okay?” he checked quietly. “You got really sad while you were talking with him.”

Stiles hesitated, looking over at Derek for a long minute, wondering if he should tell him the truth. He knew the wolf would be able to hear from his heartbeat that he was lying and probably sense the deception through their pack bond, but he also knew it would totally bring the vibe down if he told Derek he’d gotten sad thinking about how awful his life was.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Did he yell at you?” Derek pressed, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Nah,” Stiles shook his head. “Though I’m supposedly grounded now.”

He crossed to the bed and peeled open the covers before sliding between the sheets.

“Hard to enforce when he’s never home,” Derek observed, and Stiles nodded.

“Are you sleeping over?” he changed the subject with all the subtlety of a brick to the face.

Derek lifted one eyebrow at him. “Do you want me to?”

“You can if you want,” Stiles shrugged. “Whatever little nest you’ve made for yourself in that deathtrap at the abandoned train station can’t be that comfortable…”

Derek growled at him, but he didn’t deny the accusation. Stiles wondered if the wolf would join him in bed or see himself out. He could never pick it with Derek because, logically, the werewolf should be more than sick of him by now and itching to get away, but ever since the pack bond had formed between them, he’d done almost a completed one-eighty on how he interacted with Stiles. Now, he actively sought him out, fed him pizza, and casually initiated contact between them when, before, he could barely stand to be in the same room as Stiles without wanting to rip his throat out.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” Derek said eventually, and there was a longing sort of bitterness to the words.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pointed to the chest of drawers across the rooms.

“Second drawer,” he said since it wasn’t like this was the first time Derek had borrowed his things.

Fond amusement tickled his mind at the recollection of their earliest interactions when the cranky werewolf had been forced into trying on one of Stiles’s stripey blue and orange t-shirts at least two sizes too small for his powerfully muscled frame.

“They’re not going to fit me,” Derek grumbled, though he went where he was pointed anyway.

“The pants will,” Stiles chuckled. “Just ditch the shirt if you can’t find one that fits.”

He put both hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling while Derek shucked off his jeans and pulled on a soft pair of flannel pajama pants with dancing, smiling sushi rolls all over them.

“Do you own anything that doesn’t have ridiculous patterns, colors, or saying on them?” Derek asked mildly when he crossed back to the edge of the bed, shirtless, and put his hands on his hips.

Stiles sniggered.

“Probably only a few pairs of trousers,” he shrugged, shuffling across the mattress to make room for the older boy and subtly admire the languid grace of Derek as he folded himself between the sheets beside Stiles, making himself comfortable.

“Ridiculous,” Derek huffed, but there was fondness and a little amusement simmering in the bond between them alongside his ever-present anger.

“Can you get the light?” Stiles murmured since he couldn’t reach it anymore.

Derek switched it off, plunging the room into darkness. Stiles sighed sleepily, his eyes sliding closed as tiredness swamped him. Beside him, Derek shuffled a little, burrowing around and making himself comfortable in the space beside Stiles, though Stiles could sense a niggling sense of craving something trickling through the bond they shared.

“You’re gonna keep wriggling until you’re touching me, aren’t you?” he guessed, and Derek huffed, but there was a prickle of guilt coming from him.

“I don’t have to.”

Stiles smiled a little and rolled onto his side, facing away from his bond mate.

“I’m the little spoon,” he declared.

Amusement and a little buzz of happiness reached him when Derek reached across the gap between them, shuffling closer and pulling Stiles back toward himself until they met in the middle of the bed, Derek's warm, powerful body spooning around Stiles’s. His arm snaked down over his hip, curling against his belly and chest, holding him snugly while he tucked his knees into the backs of Stiles’s and pressed right up against his back and his ass. His free arm slid under Stiles’s neck and across the mattress before Derek slowly relaxed into him, sighing contentedly.

“Such a wolf,” Stiles murmured. “Surprised you didn’t have to turn in circles on the mattress before you laid down.”

He bleated in protest when Derek nipped his shoulder in reproach, but the alpha werewolf had no more words for him tonight, and despite how unusual it was to be sharing his bed and being cuddled by anyone while he slept, the warmth of Derek pressed up against him and the contentment pouring through their bond lulled Stiles to sleep within minutes.