Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Stiles groans in frustration, pushing back from his desk in his chair, regretting all of his life choices up to this point. His head is pounding, his eyes are dry and itchy, and his back aches from sitting stooped over his books all night. He doesn’t know if he can spend another minute memorizing the difference between powdered oak and pine and their magical properties.

Magic is supposed to be fun, he laments, having a spark is supposed to make his life more interesting, not boring. His phone dings from the corner of his desk and he reaches for it like a lifeline.

Stiles sighs fondly, before diving back into his textbooks. Derek Hale is not going to call him just because a potential beta passed him his number. That would be insane. Though it’s possible he’ll be more on his radar now… which he can work in his favor. Dr. Deaton had already said that he’d put in a good word for him, too, knowing how much Stiles wants to go back home to Beacon Hills to settle. He’s the top of his class, and his professors all think he’s got a real shot of his pick of Alpha’s to work with, even some of the hunter families have come sniffing around. As an emissary he can’t technically work for a hunting family, but he can, if he wasn’t the most ethical of students, be persuaded to expand a bestiary for a modest fee. Not that he would. Probably. Not unless he got the green light from Deaton, and even then, only as a last resort if he's not able to find an alpha. More likely he'll end up doing something more mundane with his failure, like work in a coffee shop or go back to school for some real world skills. Bleh.

Deciding that no more work will be accomplished until he’s more awake, Stiles pushes away from the desk and rolls across his small dorm to dig through his mini-fridge. He toys with the idea of doing a small spell to get the blood flowing but knows that exhaustion and even the smallest of magics don’t mix very well. So he settles for a Red Bull and a package of Twizzlers to help settle his stomach from the oncoming caffeine battering ram.

He waits for the sugar and caffeine to work its own everyday kind of magic while scrolling through his phone. He likes a picture of a cat on Instagram, watches Scott’s latest story which is just him doing a thumbs up to the camera before walking into the testing area earlier in the day, and comments on a comic. He almost drops his phone when it starts ringing from an unknown number. It’s 10:30, not horribly late, but the only person who ever calls him after eight is Scott, everyone knows he works best at night. That, and that he still has to attend his 8 am classes no matter how late he’s up, so it’s best just to leave him to his own devices.

“Hello?” He answers, tentatively.

He’d love to just let the call go to voicemail, but with all of the packs in town to look at potential betas and feel out the training emissaries, it’s too risky. No one says anything on the other end of the line for a long moment, and Stiles pulls the phone from his ear to make sure he’d actually picked up.

“Hi. Is this Stiles?”

“That’s me! Who’s calling?”

“Derek Hale, I was given your number, I was hoping you were free for the evening? Is it too late?”

“No! No not at all!” Stiles flails, almost falling out of his chair, then facepalms, because no doubt Alpha Hale’s werewolf hearing will have picked up on his awkwardness.

“Right. Would you like to meet for dinner?”

“Dinner? Dinner is great. I love dinner.” Stiles sucks in a deep breathe to keep from exploring further the greatness that is dinner, “did you have somewhere in particular in mind?”

“Mmm. There’s a little place on fifth? Itallian?”

“Great. Itallian is great. Uh, I can be there in… thirty? Is that okay?” Stiles is frantically doing mental math in his head. There’s no time to shower, but he can throw on a nicer shirt and pants, and if his jeep cooperates make it there in under thirty minutes. In theory.

“That’s fine,” the voice sounds almost amused. “See you there.”

He hangs up before Stiles can make a further ass of himself, for which he is incredibly grateful. The only nice outfit Stiles owns is something he bought for official emissary outings. He supposes this is an interview, though, so it should count. Grey slacks and a white button up paired with his black converse, because he’d yet to find a pair of dress shoes that didn’t pinch his toes, and he was off like a shot. If this lands him the position as the Hale emissary he's buying Scott the biggest gift.

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Stiles parks his jeep on the street, knowing he’ll probably come out to a ticket, but he can't keep driving around, he’s arriving by the skin of his teeth as it is. Most of the emissaries didn’t even bother bringing vehicles because parking in Richmond is such a pain, and there’s not a ton of free time for exploring anyway. Stiles can’t imagine not having his jeep with him, though, and gladly pays the monthly garage fee to have it on hand. He often spends his afternoons dragging Scott to look for local ingredients or out of print books. Wheels mean freedom and independence, things Stiles greatly values.

Derek is already sitting at a table when he comes in, and the hostess eyes him up and down when he tells her that he sees who he’s meeting. No doubt she’s wondering what Alpha Hale could possibly want with a scrawny kid like him. He smiles sunnily at her, the unfortunately timed Red Bull coursing through his veins making him oddly on edge. He hopes he can eat. He knows it’s horribly offensive to refuse food offered up by a werewolf, especially an alpha, so he’ll have to choke something down.

Derek is seated at a small booth and he smiles as Stiles sits down. It’s a tight squeeze, tucked into a small alcove, no doubt typically reserved for couples hoping to enjoy a meal outside the prying eyes of the other restaurant patrons. Stiles nods in acknowledgement to the alpha, physically restraining himself from blurting out every thought that crosses his mind. Picking up his menu for something to do with his hands, he searches for something to say that isn’t going to ruin his chances.

“I ordered a bottle of wine, I hope you don’t mind,” Derek says, eyeing his own menu.

“No, wine is fine, I’m of age,” Stiles says, and gives an awkward laugh.

Which is technically if slightly embarrassingly true, of course. Stiles is one of the older training emissaries, having started so late. The majority of his class skipped right over high school, knowing that magic was where their true paths lay. Sheriff Stilinski didn’t care if Stiles never held a normal job in his life, he was finishing high school first.

Derek raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. The proximity of the older man is slightly uncomfortable, partly because Stiles is all knees and elbows, and has to hold himself incredibly still to keep from bumping arms or thighs. The other part of course is because Derek is hot like burning, and it’s hard to have interview-y thoughts with that stubble and those arms so close.

Stiles gulps at his wine, earning him another raised eyebrow, and he’s just starting to wonder if Derek only speaks in vaguely threatening facial expressions when he starts making small talk.

He asks about the local restaurants and if there are any good book shops nearby, and Stiles relaxes, because he’s good at this, good at relaying information. It’s an essential skill for an emissary, and he thinks it’s brilliant that Derek is testing him in such a creative way. He could’ve easily forced Stiles to recite ingredients for spells of the properties of common ingredients, pack hierarchy, or any other number of things that he’s had to stuff into his head over the years. Instead he’s asking about local venues, something Stiles might not have even bothered learning if he weren’t a naturally curious and anxious person who needs lots of outings to keep his head clear.

The food ends up being amazing, Derek feeds him off his plate a few times, and Stiles offers his own lasagna up for tasting. It’s nice, almost like a meal with Scott, except his entire future is hanging on the line and the wine is making him kind of want to hump Derek’s leg. He really hopes he doesn’t smell too much like arousal, though no doubt it’s a scent Derek is well accustomed with. Looking like that he probably smells little else when he’s in public.

Stiles finds himself falling into an easy banter, and Derek doesn’t reprimand him, instead giving as good as he gets. The meal is over much too fast, and Stiles feels like they’ve veered off topic in all the best ways when Derek pays the bill asking about books he’s read recently. Stiles starts with some of the unassigned readings he’s been doing with some heavier tomes but then figures, what the heck, and talks about some of the Star Wars books he’s flipped through in his limited downtime. Derek seems surprised that Stiles had read a rare book about magical folklore, but he hopes it’s a good surprised.

Derek asks if he’d like to come back to the hotel to continue talking and Stiles agrees quickly. He knows that the packs will be heading home soon, and he should take advantage of every second he’s offered to earn brownie points. Derek leads him to a Camaro and Stiles whistles appreciatively, earning him a soft chuckle. Derek tells him he actually drove in instead of flying because he couldn’t imagine leaving his car behind, and Stiles agrees wholeheartedly. A work of art like this should never be left alone!

The ride to the hotel is quick, and Stiles wonders if the enclosed space is making Derek uncomfortable. He thinks apologizing for his scent might actually make things more awkward, though, so he doesn’t. It’s not like he has any control over it. He runs his fingers idly on the door handle, and can practically feel Derek looking at him, so he pulls his hands back into his lap to keep from smearing his fingerprints all over the interior.

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Derek opens his door for him, and he offers Stiles a hand up out of the car. It feels nice, warm and soft, and Stiles misses it when he takes it away. The caffeine and alcohol are fighting for dominance in his system, one trying to make him drowsy while the other makes him feel like bees are buzzing under his skin, neither of them leaving him totally clear headed. Against his better judgement he lets Derek get a few steps ahead of him before tracing a quick rune on his hand for lucidity.

It’s such a small magic, it shouldn’t register at all, but Derek tenses in front of him. Stiles rushes to catch up, smiling brightly, hoping he won’t be docked for using too much umph in the rune… or for relying on it at all. In the elevator Derek stands close after pressing the button for the top floor. Stiles can feel the heat coming off of his body, and casts around for something to think of other than the werewolf’s proximity.

Derek is not helping. He moves closer, their hands brushing, and Stiles doesn’t pull away. Maybe the interview is over? Stiles would be okay with that. Stiles is way on board if that’s what’s happening, but no way can he make the first move. If Derek wants a piece of emissary ass he’s going to have to do more than hold his hand. A much clearer signal is needed, which he tries to convey telepathically, though it doesn’t seem to be going well.

The elevator dings loudly in the small space, and Derek exits in front of Stiles. They walk down a short hall and stop in front of Derek’s door. Stiles only has a moment to take in the room after Derek swipes his keypad before he’s being shoved forcibly against the door and kissed by the alpha wolf.

“Ok, yeah, ok, this is happening,” Stiles rambles when he comes up for air.

And it is, it really is. Stiles kicks off his high tops, almost stumbling before Derek picks him up like he weighs nothing, and if that isn’t the hottest thing to ever happen to him he doesn’t know what is. Derek undoes his own pants, shoving them off before thrusting his dick in Stiles’ face.

Stiles has zero experience in this arena but he figures he can give it the ol’ college try. Gotta start somewhere, his brain whispers, and what a place to start. Stiles licks experimentally, watching Derek’s reaction. The man groans, thrusting deeper into Stiles’ mouth before he has a chance to protest. He’s pretty sure he’s seen this in porn, and he’s pretty sure what he should be doing right now is relaxing his jaw so he doesn’t get his head torn off for biting a werewolf's dick. The mental image of Derek with his claws out does nothing to dampen his arousal, because Stiles apparently has zero survival instincts.

Derek pulls out of his mouth and tosses him onto the bed, all growly and frankly, fucking hot. He noses at Stiles’ neck, and even though he’s been taught to never expose his neck to a werewolf, Stiles does just that. Because again, sex over survival. Derek groans, sucking bruises into the skin there, nipping lightly with his teeth, while his hands start pulling at Stiles clothes.

“Wait, wait, um, I’ve never done this before,” Stiles pants.

Derek moans, tugging his shirt off, popping a few of the buttons in the process.

“God, who taught you how to lie,” he says, tugging at the gray slacks like they’ve personally offended him.

“I’m actually a really great liar, I’m not sure how that’s relevant right now, though.”

Derek flips him over, pulling his underwear down over his ass, kneading the newly freed flesh.

“Lube, in the drawer,” he grunts, before burying his face in Stiles’ ass.

Stiles is pretty sure that was a command to get the lube, but he’s not actually capable of moving at all right now. Derek’s tongue feels rough and warm, and then it’s poking inside of him, and he’s keening. He’d be embarrassed but holy shit, no one could ever blame him, not with the things Derek is doing to him right now.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he pants.

Derek surges up suddenly, and Stiles whines at the lack of contact. The alpha’s laugh is deep and throaty and sends chills down his spine. Derek comes back with a bottle of lube and a condom, already slicking up his fingers.

“Is it going to hurt?” Stiles asks in a small voice.

Derek moans again, and Stiles isn’t sure why the question does it for him, but he thinks Derek probably has enough experience that he doesn’t need to worry. No way could someone looking like that not have a harem of lovers left in his wake. Stiles feels a small surge of jealousy when he considers it, but then Derek is pulling him up so he’s on his knees and pushing a finger in with one hand, wrapping the other around his dick, and he doesn’t have the brain power to consider anything at all.

“How are you so tight?” Derek pants, bending over to kiss the back of his neck, then working another finger in.

It does hurt a little, but not like he’d been expecting. It hurts a lot more when he tries to do it on his own in his dorm, but he’s pretty sure he’s been doing it wrong if this is how it’s supposed to feel.

Derek nudges something inside of him and Stiles jerks, crying out, suddenly harder than he’s ever been in his life. Derek is saying something, he doesn’t know what, and then there’s another finger, and it’s too much and not enough all at once. Stiles thrusts back on Derek’s hand, and begging, he’s not sure for what.

Derek pulls his hand out and Stiles cries out at the loss, but Derek is shushing him, and he hears the sound of the condom opening, and then he feels Derek positioning himself behind him. Stiles whimpers as he starts to push in, so much bigger than his fingers. Derek keeps his hand moving, distracting Stiles from the burn as he enters fully.

He starts to rock, slowly at first, in and out, letting Stiles get used to the sensation, until he’s forced to beg again. Derek finds his prostate again and Stiles pushes back, searching for the sparks. Derek is moaning and growling behind him, and god it shouldn’t be hot, but it is, and he’s relentless, rubbing him inside and out, until Stiles thinks he might cry if he can’t cum soon.

Derek flips him over effortlessly, only pulling out for the second it takes to land Stiles flat on his back, before he’s driving into him again, pulling a leg over his shoulder. He’s a thing of beauty to behold, all toned muscle and tan skin, Stiles wants to take a moment to appreciate it, but he’s lost in the sensation, in the twist of Derek’s wrist, in the feel of his stubble against his chin as he leans down to kiss him again, and finally, finally he’s seeing stars and his back is bucking without his permission as the last of his soul comes shooting out of his dick.

Derek doesn’t stop though, milking him through his orgasm, and driving faster and harder inside of him. Stiles no longer has the muscle control to snap his hips to meet him, though, only capable of laying there, as his oversensitive dick is worked over with his own cum. Derek falls on him, panting after his own orgasm, but doesn’t pull out right away. Instead he holds Stiles against his chest, rubbing his face on his neck, his hands on his chest, seemingly content to mark him with his sweat and scent.

Stiles whimpers when he does pull out, but he just ties off the condom, throwing it in the wastebasket, before pulling Stiles back into him, spooning him tightly. Stiles isn’t sure what the protocol is here, but he really doesn’t want to move, and it doesn’t look like Derek is going to make him, so he just settles in, making small noises of contentment as Derek draws small circles on his stomach.

He wakes up sometime later to Derek cleaning him with a warm washcloth, but Derek tells him to go back to sleep, so he does. The werewolf is warm and steady behind him, his breathes matching his own soon enough. He has a dreamless sleep, snuggled up with the alpha.

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Stiles wakes up, stretching, feeling for his phone. It takes him a moment to realize his bed is much bigger than normal, and then he’s sitting up as the night before comes rushing back. Derek isn’t in bed with him, the rest of the bed cold to the touch, which means he probably left hours earlier. Stiles eyes skirt around the room and stop abruptly as the man sitting in a chair that’s been pulled up to face the bed.

“Ah!” Stiles yells, grabbing a pillow to cover his chest.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The man says, “here, normally the agency sends this over signed but for some reason they didn’t this time. I’ll be needing your signature. Now.”

Stiles blinks at him, taking the proffered paperwork. It’s a NDA, with more legalese than he’s capable of interpreting so soon after waking. Scanning it he picks out a few key phrases, basically saying he can’t ever tell anyone he slept with Alpha Hale. Stiles gulps, taking in what the man had said previously. Agency? He thinks Stiles is from an agency?

Stiles casts around for a pen and the man helpfully hands him one. He hastily scribbles his name, before thrusting it back in the man’s direction, feeling around under the blankets for his phone.

“Looking for this?”

Stiles glares, taking his phone back and checking the time.

“I’m late!” He shouts, jumping from the bed, not caring if the man sees him naked at this point.

Miss Rohr is going to kill him for missing her class, maybe if he catches her early enough he can still get the homework and give some kind of explanation. What, he’s not sure, but he’ll figure it out.

The man stands, putting the signed contract into a manilla folder.

“The typical amount will be deposited in your account, I assume that’s everything?”

Stiles waves him away, trying to hop back into his slacks, which are remarkably wrinkled. No way is he getting back onto campus without someone noting his walk of shame. He cannot process what’s happening right now, he can’t, because if he does the wolf in the room will smell it on him, and he’ll be in deep shit. So instead he focuses on getting dressed and ordering an Uber. His body twinges in ways he’s not used to, but he does his best to ignore that, too.

His Jeep is ticket-less, which is a small miracle. He hopes that Derek didn’t do something stupid after he told him we was worried about it, like register it to the pack for the duration of his stay. He can just imagine being called into Deaton’s office to explain that.

He doesn’t get back to school in time to catch Miss Rohr to explain his absence, so he decides to take a shower before doing anything. He lets himself break down under the water, finally far away enough from prying eyes and ears and super senses to work through the muddle of the morning.

Derek clearly thought he was a prostitute. A lady of the night, a hooker a street walker, an escort… someone who he’d paid for the very willing and eager sex he’d gotten the night before. Stiles is so stupid, he’d thought it was a little weird that Derek had dived right into the sexy portion of the evening once they were alone, but he’d arrogantly thought he was just that irresistable. Wolf bait.

It wasn’t that uncommon for an alpha to sleep with his emissary, some even claimed them as mates, strengthening pack bonds. Stiles would have been down for that if he was the Hale emissary, not that it looked like that was in the cards anymore. Even if he tried to clear it up with Derek, it would be mortifyingly embarrassing for both of them. For Stiles, for being mistaken as an escort when actually he was apparently just a cock gobbler with no common sense or sense of decency and for Derek, who’d slept with an emissary in training who now had the knowledge that he paid for sex.

Which, by the way, what the fuck. Derek was stupidly hot, like firefighter calendar hot, why was he paying for sex? Stiles could name ten people right now who’d gladly lay down their lives for a chance to get in the mans pants, his among them. Was it just easier when travelling to not have to find some stranger to hook up with? Did he have someone at home waiting for him, and he reasoned away sex he paid for, because there were no strings attached? Was he just phenomenally busy, too busy to find someone for a good dicking?

Stiles groans, working the shampoo into his hair roughly. No wonder he’d thought he was lying about being a virgin, and that he was an exceptional liar at that. No doubt he’d been surprised at the lack of a skip in his heartbeat, he must think Stiles is some kind of sociopath to be able to do that.

How did this happen, though? Why did Derek think that he was an escort? Toweling off, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. He looks like he’s been mauled, there are hickeys all over his neck and stubble burn on his face. He can’t go to class looking like this. Maybe, if it had been a date, he would’ve sauntered into class, showing off the marks as a badge of pride, but now… There would be questions he doesn’t know how to answer himself.
His phone rings on the charger, and he jumps, startled out of his own thoughts. It’s an unknown number, he’s fairly certain it’s Derek because he never got around to adding him to his contacts, but he’s not 100% sure. Should he answer? What if it’s not Derek, and he offends whoevers calling by not picking up? What if it is Derek and he offends him?

Stiles groans, answering the phone.

“Hello?”

A long pause, and then, “Stiles? I wanted to apologize for having to leave so earlier this morning. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here when I got back, there was an urgent matter I had to attend to.”

Is it typical to apologize to your sex worker for not being there for morning cuddles?

“That’s alright, I actually overslept and had to run, too.”

“Oh.”

Another long pause. Is there a script he should be following right now? Escort 101?

“I was wondering… are you free this afternoon?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. What should he say? Does he want to see Derek again? His dick says yes, but his brain is ringing alarm bells. He can still hopefully get out of this mostly unscathed. If he doesn’t see Derek again before he leaves it’s possible that no one will ever have to know about his case of mistaken identity and he can still settle down with a nice pack further away. Then again, if he does see Derek again there’s a strong possibility more sexy fun times are on the table, and when is ever going to have another chance for that with an alpha? Really, it would be like using each other, right?

“Stiles?”

“What? Oh, sorry, let me uh, just, check my appointment book.”

Stiles cringes. His appointment book? Who is he, his grandma?

“I found a book I thought you might be interested in, In Regards to the Kanima, you’d mentioned that they were an area of study you were following?”

Is he bribing him right now? Because old books is definitely the way to go.

“Really? Yeah, no, I’m free, I’d love to uh, see your book, I mean, the book, I’d love to see the book. Thank you.”

Derek huffs through the phone, a not quite laugh.

“Can I pick you up?”

“You know, um, I can just meet you at the hotel? If that’s okay?”

Another pause, shorter than the last.

“Sure. Is three okay?”

Stiles looks at the clock on his desk, and winces.

“Uh, yeah, I think I can make that.”

“See you then.”

Derek really needs to get better at ending conversations, he thinks. You can’t just hang up on someone because you’re done talking. What if he’d had more to say? Then again, he always has more to say, maybe Derek has already picked up on that.

He needs a game plan. Is he showing up as Stiles, emissary in training, lured by an interesting book, hoping to clear up a misunderstanding? Or is he arriving as Stiles, hello I’m being paid to suck your dick, but not really, because I’d do that shit for free? There’s nothing in his textbooks that covers this, and his only pop culture reference is Pretty Woman which doesn’t seem particularly applicable at the moment.

He pulls on a tshirt and a hoodie, because his only dress shirt is now dirty and missing buttons and his slacks may need to be express mailed home unless he plans on buying an iron. Which he doesn’t. He grabs sneakers that are easier to toe out of, because his Converse had been a tripping hazard the night before, not that he’s sure he’ll be taking them off.

He doesn’t know who he’s kidding, he’s definitely taking them off.

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Derek lets him through the door this time without mauling him, which he feels equal parts grateful and regretful about. He’d really liked the shoving last night. It’s a thing.

The book is there, as promised, and Stiles coos over it, quickly flipping through, making comments as he does. Derek seems amused by his excitement, letting him fanboy over the book for as long as he likes.

“This is amazing, thank you for letting me look at it.”

“Would you like to take it home later? Take some notes?”

“Can I really?”

“Of course, I’ll just need it back before I head home.”

“Right. Of course!” Stiles says it brightly, but his chest aches a bit at the thought. Derek will need the book back because one day his emissary will need it. An emissary who won’t be Stiles.

Derek is staring at him, his eyebrows doing something complicated, and Stiles stares back. It’s clear he wants to say something, but is struggling to find the words. Stiles plays with his hoodie strings, pulling them one way, then the other, to make one shorter, then longer.

“I was wondering if you might be available for an exclusive contract while I’m in town.”

“Hmm. Exclusive like I only spend time with you?”

That seems like the most logical conclusion, but Stiles isn’t up on his sex worker terminology, and he doesn’t want to end up agreeing to something weird.

“Yes. If that’s alright with you. We can work out a different fee, of course.”

“Mmm, whatever you’re paying now is fine.”

And of course it is, because he’s not actually paying Stiles, so it’s not even a lie.

“Are you sure? I’d want more time with you, if you have it.”

“I’m free most days after I’m finished with classes, I mean, I’d like time to get to my homework, but I’m sure we can figure something out?”

“Right. Classes.” Derek looks at him doubtfully, and Stiles wonders if he thinks he’s full of shit.

That’s too bad, though, because he really does need to go to class. Even if he can’t figure out a good lie for all the marks. Maybe Danny will have an idea.

“Would you be willing to sleep over?”

“Here?”

“Yes, here.”

“Sure? Can I bring my books?”

“Yes.”

“And my jeep?”

“I can drive you wherever you need to go.”

“But you might need to be somewhere when I need to be somewhere, or I mean, I might need a ride when you’re busy. Doing, you know, werewolf stuff.”

“Werewolf stuff?”

“You know what I mean,” Stiles whines, earning him a small smile from Derek, “is the jeep a deal breaker?”

“No, you can park it here in the garage, I’ll arrange it.”

“Sweet.”

With the logistics worked out, Stiles isn’t sure what to do. He starts chewing on his hoodie string, looking around the room.

“So, should I go get my stuff now, or?”

“I thought we could have dinner.”

“Oh cool, sure, is this okay?” Stiles points to his outfit, and Derek gives a small grimace.

Ouch.

“Maybe we can have something brought in.”

“Oooh, like pizza?”

“Pizza?”

“Or no?”

“Pizza…. Is fine.”

It looks like it physically pains Derek to say it, and Stiles stifles a snicker. He pulls up the website for Alfredo’s, because they have the best pizza in the city, and hands his phone Derek. He takes it, furrowing his brow, before tapping around.

“Oh, don’t forget soda. You can’t have pizza without beer or soda.”

“I can have the concierge bring up beer if you’d rather?”

“Nah, caffeine is my best bud, let's go with that.”

Derek cocks an eyebrow that telegraphs his thoughts on that. Which, fair. Most people think Stiles could do with a little less energy, though shouldn’t Derek want his energy levels up. Derek raises both eyebrows as no doubt he catches a whiff at Stiles’ arousal at that particular thought. Stiles smiles sheepishly, shrugging.

They eat the meal in the kitchenette area of Derek’s suite. Afterwards Derek sucks him off after manhandling him out of his jeans and onto the counter. Stiles offers to reciprocate, even though he’s feeling exceptionally sleepy, and Derek declines, instead herding him into the bed, where he sucks more marks onto his body. Stiles knows he should go and get his stuff, but Derek is letting off heat like his own space heater, and the bed is so big and cozy. In the morning, he decides, he’ll set an alarm for early in the morning and go to all of his classes and then bring over his stuff. Yes, that’s a good plan, he tells himself, snuggling closer to Derek.

Chapter Text

Derek insists on driving him back to the campus, and seems surprised that it’s actually where Stiles wants to get dropped off. Stiles knows better than to lie to a werewolf, though, so he just lets Derek think whatever he’s going to think.

As he’s climbing out of the Camaro he hears his name being called, and winces. This isn’t going to be good.

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

“Scott, hey buddy, what’s up, I’m in a hurry, so,” Stiles frantically shuts the car door, needing to get out of Derek’s range of hearing before Scott says something that’s going to mess everything up.

“Dude. What happened to your face? Who’s car is that? Are you okay? Did Alpha Hale ever call you?”

Like that. Stiles speed walks, not looking back for Derek’s reaction.

“Did I mention I’m in a hurry?”

“Okay, hold on, hold,” Scott huffs to catch up, and Stiles feels a small pang of guilt. “So. Alpha Hale?”

“Hmm. Oh, um, yeah, we set up an interview I think, I’m not sure if it’s going to be a good fit, we’ll uh, we’ll see.”

Stiles pulls open the door to the dorms, and Scott stays hot on his heels.

“Did you mention me? Do you think they’ll pick me?”

“It didn’t come up, like I said, I don’t know that it’s a good fit, I didn’t want to mention you in case it worked, you know, against you.”

Stiles shoves his key into his door, and starts pulling out clothes to change into.

“Dude. Did someone beat you up? Are you okay? Should I go get someone?”

“I’m fine, Scott, don’t worry about it. Don’t you need to be back at the testing center soon?”

“What? Oh shit, yeah. Text me, okay?”

“Yeah.”

The room is eerily quiet with Scott gone, leaving Stiles much too alone with his thoughts. He hastily shoves some clothes into his backpack, along with the books he’ll need for class. He washes his face and brushes his teeth but doesn’t have time to shower.

Miss Rohr gives him the missing assignments from class the previous day, and takes Stiles’ late homework, telling him it can’t happen again. Stiles agrees immediately, and he knows he’s getting off light because he’s normally such a good student. Learning to hone his spark is much different than learning American History or Chemistry, it’s all interesting enough for the most part that he doesn’t have to go off looking for more fitting topics to explore. Even better, when he finds a topic too dull his professors usually encourage him to search out new materials instead of punishing him.

He zones out through most of his classes, trying to ignore the looks he gets from his classmates. The stubble burn has faded some, but it’s still there. He’s in a zip up hoodie so he can hide his neck, but there’s nothing for the bumps on his face. He practically sprints to the parking lot after classes let out to avoid awkward questions, his bag now full of homework. Dereks given him the keycard to get into the hotel, in case he was busy when Stiles finished up.

It feels weird being in the suite alone but he’s soon lost in his work. Derek comes in after an hour or so, Stiles waves at him but keeps converting ingredient measurements.

“So, Stiles is your real name.” Derek says out of the blue, hanging his jacket in the closet.

“Kind of. It’s what I go by, at least. No one can pronounce my real name.” Stiles doesn’t look up from his work. Had Derek assumed he’d given out a pseudonym? Is that something actual escorts do?

“Who was that boy this morning?” Derek’s tone is carefully neutral as walks into the kitchenette, barefoot, and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Scott? He’s a friend, my best friend, I’ve known him my whole life. He’s practically my brother.”

“And why did he ask if I’d called you?”

“Mmm. Wishful thinking, I guess.” True. Stiles is very careful not to lie. “He wanted me to put in a good word for him, but I told him that I didn’t think it was a good idea.” Also true.

“A good word?”

“He wants the bite, you’ve probably seen him at the testing center.”

“Mmm.”

Derek drinks his water, staring at Stiles.

“Does your agency get a lot of business when the packs visit?”

“I think that’s probably confidential.” True. Stiles thinks he’s getting the hang of this. He looks up at Derek, “you’re my first wolf, though.”

Derek’s ears turn pink, but he doesn’t comment.

“Did you want the bite?” He says it casually, like it’s no big deal, and Stiles sputters.

“What? Me? No. No thank you, no offense. Not my deal.”

“That’s a lie.” Derek says, staring at him.

“Okay, well first of all, no it’s not, I mean, I’m okay with biting in general, as I’m sure you noticed, but the bite? Not so much. And even if my heart says I’m lying I’d appreciate it if you’d listen to what my mouth is saying. That goes for all consent related conversations, by the way. None of that, my mouth said no but my heart said yes, bullshit.”

Derek snorts, nodding. He pulls out a laptop and works in companionable silence across from Stiles. At first it’s distracting, Derek’s sleeves are rolled up showing off his forearms, and his face gets all cute and scrunched up while he’s thinking. Eventually, though, Stiles refinds his focus, working quickly through the homework.

As soon as he starts putting away the papers strewn out around him, Derek is crowding into his space. Stiles laughs, pushing him away until everything is properly put away.

“You didn’t shower,” Derek says, already nosing at his neck.

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry, I uh, didn’t have time this morning, I can go do that now if you want.”

“No.”

It’s a firm no. Stiles smiles affectionately, kissing Derek softly. The older man looks surprised, before kissing him back just as sweetly.

“So you like it when I smell like you?”

Derek groans, picking him up and wrapping Stiles’ legs around his waist. Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the manhandling. It’s going to be a problem when Derek leaves. Actually there are going to be a lot of problems when Derek leaves, which quickly becomes apparent over the next few days of domesticity. Derek wakes up first in the morning, so he gets coffee while Stiles showers before dropping him off on campus, after school he heads straight to the hotel to get a head start on his homework. When Stiles is bored in class he sends Derek text messages with lots of heart emojis and movie quotes, and Derek responds to maybe one in five, which is still better than Scott. Derek buys him a nice outfit so they can go out to dinner, but when Stiles can’t keep his hands to himself at the table it’s decided that eating in is preferable.

Stiles finds himself avoiding his other responsibilities in favor of spending time with Derek. He doesn’t do the optional lab work for the week, earning him concerned looks from his professors, but he ignores them. He also ignores a call from a visiting alpha asking to interview him, something he couldn’t have fathomed even a week ago. Finding a pack to represent should be his top priority, but somehow the lines are blurring all around him. Sometimes he has trouble remembering that it's not real, that Derek isn't actually his boyfriend.

Derek is no help in convincing him to spend more time outside of the bedroom. He makes sure Stiles is always taken care of first before seeking out his own release, sometimes three or four times. Stiles starts to make a game of it, as he learns what Derek likes, to see if he can’t make the werewolf finish first. He manages it their fourth night together when his rambling mouth calls Derek his alpha, but afterward he works Stiles over until he’s begging him to stop, convinced he’ll die if he’s forced to cum again.

So Stiles is justifiably crestfallen when Derek announces that the pack is considering taking on a new beta, and that once they do, they’ll be leaving.

Chapter Text

Derek paces the span of his suite, the smell of Stiles and him still hanging in the air even though the boy had left hours earlier for ‘class’. He wonders what Stiles is really up to on the druid campus, if perhaps his agency doesn’t pay for him to learn more about werewolves to better serve their community. The thought makes him see red, so he discards it, trying to regain his focus.

He’s meant to be looking over the resumes of potential betas so he can present options to his pack, but all he can think about is Stiles. He’s wormed his way so thoroughly into his life in such a short span of time, which was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid by using a damn escort service. It had been Peter’s idea, after his third spectacularly bad relationship went up in (literal) flames. It was clear Derek was incapable of seeking a suitable mate on his own, but he was still a man with needs. As such a high profile alpha he’s the target of everything from hunters to gold diggers, having someone faceless and replaceable warm his bed every few months while away on pack business is the easiest solution.

This is the first time he’s sought the same person more than once, though. Typically they come reeking of fear, or asking for favors. Stiles is different. He’s funny and sarcastic, he makes room for Derek in his life without asking for anything in return.

Other than the money. Fuck. Sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s paying for all of the attention. Stiles seems to give it so freely, smelling of arousal and affection, it’s hard to separate reality and fiction. He needs to get out, soon. Rip the band-aid off, before he does something stupid like offer to bring Stiles home with him.

Not to mention the lecture he’s going to get from Peter about his ‘entertainment’ expenses this trip. He’ll no doubt drop snide comments in front of the pack that Derek won’t be able to defend himself from without giving himself away.

Derek rifles through the papers once more, trying to concentrate. A familiar name catches his eye, is this Stiles’ Scott? He thinks so, he certainly seems similar enough to be the boy who’d trailed after Stiles on campus. He hasn’t asked for any favors, he muses, maybe he can give him something just because.

Scott is ecstatic to get the call from the Hale Alpha asking for a one on one session. The Hale territory covers his hometown, if they give him the bite he can see his mom whenever he wants. Not only that, but he’ll have the money to help take care of her, and he’ll be removing the costs for all of the expensive medical treatments he needs. His mom would never tell him, but he’s pretty sure his last bout of pneumonia had put them perilously close to not being able to pay the mortgage.

Not that Scott wants the bite just to help with the mountain of debt. No, he wants to make a difference, help protect a community, build a family beyond just him and his Mom. He works hard in the courses he’s assigned. He’s a pro at yoga, and he can meditate for hours without moving. Stiles thinks it’s creepy, but Scott just thinks that’s because Stiles can’t be still for more than five minutes. Scott is mastering himself, one ballet class, one mindfulness seminar, one conflict resolution class at a time. He thinks he’d make a great addition to any pack, but he’s not sure if it looks that way from the outside.

A lot of the other potential betas probably think they’re good candidates, too. Scott can only afford this year to try his chances, though. Some of the others have been here for ages, their families thinking that the bite will be able to solve their problems much quicker than medical science can. If Scott doesn’t get chosen this year he has to get a real job, something to bring in money to help his mom, no matter what she says.

So the call from Alpha Hale is like a sign from the heavens. Scott wears his nicest outfit, tie and all, to the interview. Alpha Hale is a tall, intimidating looking man, who seems to have resting murder face, but Scott thinks he can work with it. He asks all of the usual questions about why Scott wants the bite, if he knows about all the risks, that he might die and Scott tells him he does. There are blood tests these days telling you if you have a good chance of transforming or not, but it’s not foolproof. There’s always a risk.

The alpha asks if he’s free the next day to meet with more of the pack, to get a feel if he’d be a good fit, and Scott is over the moon. Obviously he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t seriously considering him.

As they’re finishing up, Derek seems to struggle with himself, before finally asking, “So, how do you know Stiles?”

“Stiles? He’s my bro! We grew up together, he’s my best friend. Why? Are you considering him, too?”

“Stiles said he didn’t want to bite,” Derek looks confused for a moment.

“No, I mean, for your emissary. The Hale pack still needs one, right?”

“Skinny, defenseless Stiles as the Hale emissary?” Derek snorts.

“Right,” Scott gives an awkward laugh, before deciding that no, Stiles would definitely defend him in his place, even if it meant throwing away an opportunity of a lifetime. “I mean, he’s just the best in his class. Wouldn’t want someone like that.”

Derek looks taken aback, no doubt Scott is sending off angry chemosignals like a motherfucker, but he can’t help it. He nods in deference to the alpha before stomping out of the room. He doesn’t want to be in a pack who thinks Stiles isn’t good enough, anyway.

Chapter Text

Derek is confused, so so confused. After Scott storms out he sits in a daze for a moment in the small room provided to them for the meeting. Someone has the wrong idea, and he has a sinking feeling that it’s him. Numbly he walks to Dr. Deaton’s office, needing answers before his mind can spiral out of control, creating ridiculous worst case scenarios.

The secretary has him sit in a small waiting room, furnished with old magazines and fake potted plants. Dr. Deaton is in a meeting, he’s told, but will be with him shortly. Stiles sends him a text message with a spider, then an upside down smiley face, then a kissy face, and finally a winky face. Derek wonders if he’s supposed to make sense of the rapid fire messages, which seem random and nonsensical to him.

He shoots back a confused emoji, glad Erica had walked him through the keyboard and helped explain which each face might mean and what it might mean. Stiles sends back a picture of Spider-man hanging from a fire escape kissing a woman upside down, and Derek snorts. He’s likely the most ridiculous person Derek has ever met, and he doesn’t know why, but he loves it.

He’s sure that this is all a big misunderstanding. Stiles isn’t an emissary in training. Or if he is, he’s a new recruit, and Deaton doesn’t know about his side job. No way would they let Stiles work for an escort service while attending. Should Derek out him? Would cutting off his source of income be too cruel? Though no doubt the Hale pack has provided for him more in the past week than he’s made in months. The druids should be making sure all of his needs are being met, anyway. Is Stiles in trouble?

Deaton breaks him out of his thoughts, calling him into his office. The plants here are real, and flourishing, tinging the room with a crisp, fresh scent. Derek clears his throat, taking the offered chair across from the desk, trying to think of how to start.

“I was interested in talking to you about Stiles, I believe he’s one of your students?”

Good. Neutral. If Stiles isn’t an emissary in training and only attends classes when his agency pays for them, he hasn’t put him in the awkward position of explaining why a visiting Alpha thinks otherwise.

“Ah, Mr. Stilinski, yes, a bright young man, I’ve had many inquiries about him as of late. He’s doing very well in his studies, I believe,” Deaton types and clicks on his computer, “yes, he’s the top of his class. Exceptional, really, I’m surprised he hasn’t been snatched up before now. Though I do believe he had mentioned that he had a preference for a pack in California, to be closer to his father. Are you interested in setting up an official interview, Alpha Hale? I’m sure he’d very receptive.”

Derek barely hears Deaton over the rushing in his ears. Stiles is a training emissary, a good one it sounds like. He knew the boy sometimes does small runes, the magic making him stink horribly, and that he spends hours reading through giant texts. He’d just thought he was eclectic, maybe an unregistered spark earning a quick buck on the side while he honed his craft. An official training emissary though… Derek could be in so much trouble right now. If anyone were to find out that he’d approached him, alone, without permission… that he’d slept with the boy… the druids could refuse to work with him ever again. He could be blacklisted from the community.

Derek does his best to school his face as Deaton continues extolling the virtues of the trainee, not wanting to give himself away. He tells Deaton, though his voice sounds very far away to his own ears, that he would like to set something up, and he’ll be in touch, before walking robotically from the room. He needs to call Peter now, to find out who Stiles is working for and what they have over him.

Chapter Text

Stiles smiles at his phone, feeling elated. It’s possible he’s getting in too deep with Derek, but he can’t make himself stop. He sends a picture of the upside down spider kiss, smirking. Derek doesn’t answer right away, probably busy, so he puts his phone away to actually take notes.

His studies are suffering slightly, though he knows he’s still doing better than the majority of his classmates. It’s just, doing extra work, going above and beyond what’s assigned kind of loses its appeal when there are other more fun things to be doing. Like watching a movie with Derek. Or talking books with Derek. Or cuddling on the couch with Derek. Basically, Derek has overtaken his life. He’d be worried but let’s be honest, all of this has an expiration date. Soon enough Derek will take his pack and his new beta and head home. Stiles will have plenty of time to catch up on things like homework and optional training sessions then. If it means he has to wait another year for an alpha, he can do that. There are worse things. Like missing out on the way Derek sneezes when he eats something with too much salt, or the way he smiles, showing off his adorable bunny teeth only when he’s really caught off guard.

So yes, he doodles little hearts in the margins of his notes, and he’s not going to apologize for it. Class seems to drag on forever. Maybe they could cook something tonight. He knows that there’s a microwave in the room, he’s pretty sure he can whip up an actual meal with just that. He makes a note to google microwave recipes next to one of the hearts.

Maybe he can still salvage things, if he comes up with a good enough plan.He’s really good with plans. Maybe he can tell Derek that he’s going to start training as an emissary and would he be interested in him next year? Or the year after? Stiles can wait. Or he could say that he’s been doing emissary training and the escort thing was a one time thing, and could Derek maybe not tell anyone and also is he looking for an emissary?

He’d have to be very careful about how he worded it, so there aren’t any lies. He’s trained as an emissary and he thought Derek knew that, and while it’s become clear now that he doesn’t, would he consider an official interview? How about… I’m a spark and I’d love to come with you back to California to train and perhaps become your emissary? Is being an official emissary even a deal breaker anymore? Couldn’t he just go as Derek’s boyfriend, and find a fall back plan later?

Could he keep up the lie long enough? All of that hinges on Derek wanting a relationship with him, which might be the hardest variable of all to plan for. Maybe this is just what Derek does, swooping in and upending someone’s life before disappearing back into his pack. If Stiles were an actual escort would he be capable of compartmentalizing all of these feelings? Is that how Derek does it? Does the exchange of money make it easier for him to pretend that Stiles actually likes him, and then able to just turn it off when he leaves?

“Mr. Stilinski!”

Stiles flails out of his chair, literally, and Matt snickers next to him.

“Sorry! Sorry! What?”

Miss Rohr sighs down at him, waiting for him to climb back into his seat.

“I asked if you could tell us the difference between the bark of pine and powdered?”

Stiles answers quickly and easily, and tries to focus more on the lecture. He’s called on again several times, as if to catch him daydreaming again, but he stays alert. He’ll get to see the actual Derek tonight, for now he needs to try to pretend like he’s a good student.

Chapter Text

Derek growls down the phone at his uncle, who’s insisting he doesn’t have any new invoices from Stiles or his agency. In fact, other than the NDA, he doesn’t have any information on him at all.

“But the agency sends the NDA, we’ll just get more information through them.”

“About that…” Peter drawls, causing Derek to growl threateningly again. “I thought it slightly odd at the time, but the agency didn’t send his signed NDA, I had to get the signature personally.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”

“Well, dear nephew, I thought us having as little discussion about your extracurriculars was how you liked it. I believe your exact words were ‘stay out of it.”

Derek is practically snarling now, a low rumble caught in his throat. If Stiles isn’t from the agency, who is?

“You gave me the number,” Derek starts.

“As I remember it, I handed the number with some other paperwork to a potential beta, perhaps there was some mix up there?”

Oh god, he’s right. The name and number had been on top of the clipboard, anyone could have tampered with it. This could all be a giant trap. How could he be so stupid?

“What’s the matter, Derek, have you gone and fucked everything up again?”

He has, he really has. He needs to get the pack out of the hotel. They could be at risk. He grapples with himself, wanting to protect Stiles and defend himself from him.

“I need you to get some information for me,” Derek barks, “I’ll send you a name and everything else I have.”

“Coming up,” Peter answers dryly, before hanging up.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Stiles orchestrated all of this. He must have switched the number with his own, somehow. There was no way he could have known Derek would request him again… though he was clearly very good at his job. Maybe he’d had a back up plan, to bump into Derek conveniently elsewhere and worm his way in that way. Possibly he only needed the layout of the room, or some other small piece of information, but he stuck around for all the extra intel Derek just laid in his lap.

How exposed were they? What had he told him? It’s hard to remember, he’s felt so comfortable with Stiles, giving and sharing freely with the boy. What had Stiles asked about specifically? With growing horror he recalls laying in bed, fingers intertwined, talking about choosing Erica and Boyd as betas. And he’d been so distracted when Stiles had asked if the mating bite hurt, that he’d answered without thinking when he asked how quickly he healed. He’d asked if Derek had ever been hurt badly, and Derek had puffed up at the worry in his voice, reassuring him that he’d always been able to escape death.

No doubt Stiles already knew about the basic weaknesses, wolfsbane and mountain ash, the runes and drugs his kind were susceptible to. Had he taken some kind of perverse pleasure in Derek handing over the information himself? What was he using to mask his scent and heartbeat so well? His wolf was completely fooled, something he thought was no longer possible after Kate and Jennifer.

Derek feels a whine starting at the back of his throat, despair and fear warring inside of him. He might not have admitted to himself yet, not fully, but he’d been considering Stiles as more. More than a convenient body in his bed, more than someone he paid to spend time with him. He was so easily tricked even now, it seems. He might have brought the boy home with him, put his whole pack at risk. He might have already put their lives in danger with his actions, he doesn’t know.

Stiles will be home soon. No. Not home. Here. Stiles will be here soon, and Derek doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t think he can act like everything is normal for the evening while he gets the rest of the pack out of town. If he can even contact them all in time. What if they’re exodus alerts whoever Stiles is working with? No. There’s no reason to think that whatever he’s planning is going to happen here, in the hotel. In all likely hood he’ll wait for them to be away from here, to keep from implicating himself.

Maybe he should just confront him. Maybe someone is forcing him, and he needs Derek’s help. He feels a surge of hope at that, he can save Stiles if he’s in trouble. If it’s money, he has plenty of that, or if someone is threatening him he can handle that, too. It felt too real for it all to be fake.

Derek goes back and forth like this for so long that he’s startled to hear the door beeping open. Without thinking, he growls, dashing across the room and falling into a defensive position.

Chapter Text

Stiles hums to the song playing in his headphones, moving a grocery bag from his left wrist to his right so he can grab his keycard. The hotel door swings open, and he kicks a shoe off before he’s even through.

Toeing the other one off, he drops his bags in a heap, noticing Derek looking very stilted next to the counter. He pulls his earbuds out, sighing loudly.

“Hey, so I know you only have a microwave but I figured you’re probably as sick of takeout at this point as I am, so I grabbed some stuff we can try making here? Or no? Dude, are you okay?”

Derek looks abnormally pale, and a little like he might be sick. Stiles frowns in worry, hurrying towards him. Derek flinches back, though, and Stiles goes very still.

“Derek? What’s wrong? Do you need help? Is there someone I should call? Tell me what to do, you’re freaking me out.”

A hollow laugh comes tumbling out of Derek, and Stiles flinches back. He’s never heard Derek sound like that. He longs to reach out, but Derek’s body language is very clear. He doesn’t want Stiles to touch him.

Stiles backs up towards the table, giving Derek more space. His body relaxes a little, but he stays where he is, staring at Stiles.

“We don’t have to cook dinner?” Stiles jokes, hoping for any kind of explanation.

He scans Derek for injuries, but he seems fine.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, anyway.

“No,” Derek says, and Stiles considers it an improvement from the silence.

Stiles moves to take a step forward again and Derek recoils, so he stops, grabbing onto the chair to steady himself.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, his voice pitiful to his own ears.

Derek stares at him for a long moment, seeming to mull over his question. Did Stiles do something wrong? Did he… did Derek find out he’s not an escort? Or worse, that he is an emissary in training? That wouldn’t cause this kind of reaction, though. Hopefully. Presumably Stiles being an emissary in training would be good news. It could mean that this doesn’t have to end. Unless Derek is an amazing actor or... is disgusted with him now that he knows that he wasn’t paying Stiles?

“No,” he finally snarls.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t leave. Not until you want me to, okay? I’m right here.” Stiles slides out the chair and sits. “Will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Derek just stares at him.

“Look, I’m right here, okay, whatever you need, I’m right here. If you need me to call someone, or no, okay, I’m putting down the phone, if you just need me to sit here until you can tell me what’s wrong, I can do that, too.”

“Isn’t that your job?” Derek sneers.

“What?”

“Isn’t. It. Your. Job? To do whatever I need?”

“Ok, not loving the judgey tone there. You’re the one keeping the industry alive there, buddy, supply and demand.”

Derek waits him out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right now… Right now I think my job is making sure that you’re alright.”

“Because I’m paying you.”

“No, because I care about you, and I can see that you’re upset, and I’d like to help.”

“You’re very good at avoiding the question.”

Stiles inhales sharply. Yes, Derek clearly knows he’s not an escort, at the very least. There’s not really anything else it could be. Ok. He can handle this.

“Alright, I see where this is going. I need you to listen to my heartbeat, okay? I won’t lie to you, but I don’t think you believe that right now, so just... listen.”

“Your heartbeat lies.”

“No. No it doesn’t. That’s not possible, or if it is, I don’t know how to do it. Here,” Stiles draws a small rune very quickly, and Derek growls menacingly, “now you can’t hear it at all. Those are my options. No heartbeat or… or true heartbeat. I could say anything right now and you’d have no way of knowing if I was telling you the truth. I love you. I hate you. You’re the only person I’ve ever fucked. I’ve fucked a legion of men. Eerie, isn’t it? Having to rely on regular old communication rather than your super senses. Don’t worry, it’s a small one, it’ll wear off soon. Let me know when it does.”

Stiles leans back in his chair, arms crossed in front of him. He thinks Derek’s face flickered there, when he said he loved him, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Stiles stretches his neck, and he sees Derek tense, for sure this time. He knows it’s a bit wrong to push this advantage, but he doesn’t have much. If baring his throat in submission will buy him time, then bare his throat he will.

“You still have my scent to work with,though, right? What do I smell like?”

“Magic,” Derek bites out, “you stink of magic.”

“Oh. Is that a just right now thing, or an always thing?”

Derek gives him his murder face, so he just shrugs, waiting. It lasts less than a minute.

“I just mean, if you can smell magic specifically when I do it, doesn’t that mean you’d know if I were using magic to hide my heartbeat? Or change it, or whatever it is you think I’m doing?”

He gets no confirmation for this theory.

“I can still feel it, ya know, it’s there. If you wanted, you could come here and feel it, put your hand here, and know it’s my heartbeat, that I’m telling you the truth.”

Derek snorts, clearly unwilling to cross the room. His right eyebrow raises after a minute.

“Is it back?”

Derek nods.

“Okay, so, what do you want to know? I promise not to lie. I’ve never lied to you on purpose.”

“So you lied on accident?” Derek’s tone is scathing, sarcastic.

“Yes.” Stiles says simply. He waits.

“Are you a….” Derek waves his hand towards him.

“A sex worker? No. I’ve never had sex for money.”

“Why did you say you were?”

“I didn’t.”

Derek huffs, and looks like he wants to cross the room to shake Stiles.

“I didn’t,” Stiles repeats, “you called me and asked me to dinner, a dinner where I thought you wanted to interview me, and then we hit it off, I guess, and then there was sex, yes, but I just thought maybe you liked me?” Stiles voice is uncertain now, but none of it is a lie. “And then this creepy guy asked me to sign something and said that he’d deposit the ‘normal amount’ into my account, but of course, he didn’t have my account, because I don’t actually work for whoever it is you normally hire for this kind of thing…” Stiles trails off because Derek is looking at him in disbelief.

“Right. There just happened to be a misunderstanding where I thought I was paying you to fuck me, and you thought I just fucked emissaries for fun.”

“I mean, okay, I didn’t really think it through, if I had I would have realized before the sex, but.”

“Why’d you keep doing it,” Derek cuts him off. “I asked for an exclusive contract and you agreed. How was that not a lie.”

“I saw you exclusively?” Stiles says, sheepishly.

Derek runs a hand over his face, clearly annoyed.

“Why are you doing this? Is someone threatening you? What are you planning?”

“What?” Stiles smashes his arm into the table and yelps. “No! No one is threatening me! I just… I just like you, okay? And I thought, I mean, if you were going to pay someone for it anyway, and I really wanted to do it for free, wasn’t it mutually beneficial?” Stiles massages his sore elbow, fighting the instinct to draw a pain rune.

Derek stalks across the room, stooping down, crowding into Stiles space. Stiles resists the urge to reach out, touch him. He wants to so badly, to find a way to prove to Derek that all he wanted was his company.

“I thought it might be good news,” he says, voice small, not meeting Derek’s eyes, “I thought you might want to take me back with you, if you found out. I was trying to find a way to tell you.”

“So if I tell you to leave, nothing will happen to my pack. You’re not planning to hurt them.”

“No!”

“Fine. Leave. I’m taking Scott, so if anything happens to the pack, it’ll happen to him, too.”

“What the fuck, Derek. You can’t just use him like that. The bite has to be reciprocal, he won’t accept if you’re using him as a hostage.”

“So you’ll tell him.”

“He’s my best friend!”

“Convenient.”

“I can’t win!”

“I just want to protect my pack!”

Stiles is standing now, shouting back, furious.

“Scott is my family!” He stabs a finger into Derek’s chest, and surprisingly the alpha backs up. “You can’t just use him as some pawn!”

“He wants the bite!”

This takes a little wind out of his sails. Scott does want the bite, but isn’t it wrong for him to join a pack under such false pretenses?

“Not… not if you’re just using it to blackmail me!”

He still wants to climb Derek like a tree, especially now that he’s backed into a corner, and he curses his traitorous brain for thinking it.

“If you warn him I’ll assume it’s because you’re planning on hurting my pack.” Derek warns.

“If you bite him just to get back at me, then we’re done!”

Derek laughs cruelly, somehow seeming to have the upper-hand even though he’s the one with his back to the wall.

“We’re already done, Stiles. Because we were never anything.”

Stiles feels tear prick the back of his eyelids, but he refuses to let them fall. He grabs his bag and shoes off the ground and slams out of the hotel.

Chapter Text

Stiles squelches the guilt that threatens to overpower him for not being straight with Scott. He should tell him that he’s just being used, but he wants this so bad. It might be okay, he reasons. It might be great, even. Maybe Scott will take the bite, and then when nothing happens to the pack Derek will realize what an idiot he’s been, and come running back. Stiles imagines Derek in a white billowing shirt, running through a field of wildflowers, come to apologize. He snorts, his hands itching to text Derek the ridiculous visual.

Worst case scenario, Derek bites Scott and then never lets him see him again. There. That’s it. And he’s crafty, no doubt they can find a way around that if Derek decides to be such a colossal douche. Really, he just needs to clear this all up, somehow. (Stiles refuses to admit to himself that the actual worst case scenario is that Derek always looks at him like he did last night, like a threat, a traitor. He can’t handle that right now.)

Stiles skips classes, something he’d only ever done once, when this whole thing started. No doubt someone will stage an intervention soon, drug test him or something, because this isn’t the way he behaves. Oh well. He pulls up his call history and finds the alpha from Nevada who’d called earlier in the week to set up an interview.

It takes ten minutes to convince her that it’s in her best interest to fly him out there, to see the land and meet the pack, and afterwards it would be the right thing to do to send him home to see his dad for a few days. Stiles doesn’t have time to mope, instead he plots, and he plans… and he packs.

Chapter Text

Everyone is really nice if slightly intimidating, he thinks. Lots of leather. Erica keeps making sexual innuendos and Boyd, who he thinks is her boyfriend, stands stoically behind her, not cracking a smile. There’s an adorable curly haired blonde boy who takes to him instantly, and acts as a good buffer between him and Erica. Apparently there’s a fourth beta who stayed home as a sort of anchor, Cora, who’s Derek’s sister, and Derek’s uncle, who’s off being mysterious. This is a direct quote from Erica. There was a sixth but he moved with his boyfriend out of the country, so while he’s still technically Derek’s beta, he’s not around much.

Scott takes in all of this information while downing a smoothie. Derek still isn’t here, which he thinks is odd, but Erica says he’s been really busy lately, and Boyd elbows her after she says it. Scott doesn’t get the joke.

He finds out that Isaac is from the same town as him, and if he hadn’t been bitten they would have attended the same high school. They like a lot of the same movies, and get lost in conversation about this, with Erica throwing in a quip every once in a while. He thinks these people could be family, but he doesn’t know if they feel the same way.

When it becomes apparent that Derek isn’t showing up anytime soon, Isaac invites him back to his room to play video games, so they all head there. The hotel is close to the restaurant, so they walk. Isaac says he doesn’t like getting in cars with strangers, isn’t that what they always said on the after school specials? Erica snarks about cabs, and Isaac tells her he doesn’t use those, either, thanks.

Boyd points out that Erica doesn’t like cabs or ride shares either, and she snarls about the smells, as if this is a more acceptable reason not to ride in a car with a potential murderer. Isaac schools Scott at Mario-kart, but it’s decided that it’s not an even playing field, what with the super reflexes.

Isaac promises him a rematch, post bite, and Scott practically glows. After several hours of pizza, video games, and soda, Boyd’s phone dings with a text from Derek. Scott feels a twinge of apprehension, worried that Derek will still be upset with him for standing up for Stiles. The wolves must smell it, because they plant themselves around him, asking what’s wrong.

“Nothing, sorry, I guess I’m just nervous.”

They all exchange a look, and Isaac pats his arm.

“It’s going to be fine, Derek can be a little scary, but,”

“He’s a big teddy bear,” Erica cuts in. “Honest. Once you get past all the leather and brooding,”

“And eyebrows!”

“Yes, and the eyebrows, he’s really nice.”

Boyd nods but doesn’t add anything.

“Alright,” Scott says, letting out the breath he’d been holding. “It’s just yesterday he kind of insulted my friend and I got defensive.”

“Oh it’s really easy to annoy Derek,” Erica says, waving a hand, “but he doesn’t hold grudges.”

“He wouldn’t have set up a pack meet if he didn’t want to consider you,” Isaac says comfortingly.

Derek finds them cuddled together watching tv when he finally arrives.

Chapter Text

Peter smirks as he passes Derek the dossier on Stiles. Not that Stiles is his actual name. It’s a long, convoluted name that Derek makes no attempt to pronounce. He vaguely recalls Stiles admitting this when he’d asked if he was using his real name. At least he didn’t lie about that.

He really is from a small town in California and he really is 21. His dad is actually the sheriff, and it seems he’s very supernatural friendly. His department sports a hellhound, werecoyote and has a banshee consultant. He owns his house, and there is some debt but nothing alarming, no large payments made recently to indicate that Stiles is working with some kind of shadow organization.

Stiles had a decent GPA in high school though his teachers comment that he’s unfocused and not reaching his potential. He’s currently enrolled as an emissary in training, where he is at the top of his class, excelling especially in runes.

He keeps to himself, with a small group of friends, and spends the majority of his time studying and exploring the town with Scott, according to the people in his dorm. No current or past romantic relationships that Peter could find, he wonders how he went about that. Probably social media.

Nothing about him is suspicious at all, which might be suspicious in and of itself. The only thing that stands out is that he finished high school before beginning his training. If he hadn’t spent the last week letting Derek fuck him into submission he’d think he was a good candidate to be the Hale emissary. Certainly better than anyone else they’d looked at.

“What do you think?”

“I think he seems like a nice young man.”

“I mean do you think he might be working with someone to bring down the pack.”

Peter takes back the file, flipping through it.

“I think he’s certainly smart enough, but I don’t see anything here to indicate a motive.”

“Then why was he posing as an escort.”

“You’d have to ask him that.”

Derek glares at his uncle, who shrugs innocently, not that he’s ever been innocent in his life.

“I did.”

“Ooooh, and what did he say?”

“That it was a misunderstanding.”

“Well there you go. Go get the little spark and we’ll bring him home with us.”

Derek growls.

“Or we can leave him here for some other pack to scoop up, I’m sure he’ll make a lovely to mate to some other alpha.”

Derek’s eyes flash red, but Peter just smirks.

“I have to go, the pack is interviewing a new beta.”

“No thanks, I don’t really go in for all that bonding and togetherness.”

“I wasn’t inviting you.”

Derek stalks out of the room, certain that Peter is smiling smugly at him but refusing to give him the satisfaction of turning around and reacting. He’s no fool, he can’t trust Stiles just because he came up with a clean background, that doesn’t mean anything.

The walk to Isaac’s room does little to cool his temper. Peter might be right, Stiles might be plucked up by some other pack, but he’s wrong in thinking that Derek can just get over it and recruit him. An alpha has to trust his emissary implicity, to be able to count on them to represent their interests in enemy territory, to be able to handle negotiations and to help protect the pack. No matter how well he studies, how much he’s harnessed his spark, if Derek can’t trust him he’s useless.

Derek doesn’t immediately spot Scott when he gets to the room he’s so wrapped up in his betas. Isaac has him pulled against his chest, and Erica is practically covering him with her own body she’s pushed against him so tight. Even Boyd is closer than normal, his leg kicked over Erica’s and resting against Scott’s calf. Clearly, they approve of him. Scott looks up from the television where something loud with lots of explosions is playing, and smiles hesitantly up at him.

“Looks like you fit right in,” Derek says, dropping to the floor next to Isaac.

“Uh, yeah, everyone is great,” Scott answers, looking to Isaac to back him up.

“We kicked his ass at Mario Kart,” Isaac offers, grinning.

“But I get a rematch when… uh, if, I get the bite,” Scott flounders.

“I’ll still kick your ass,” Erica says, resting her head on his shoulder.

Derek realizes he’s miscalculated, but doesn’t know what to do about it. Clearly Scott has been accepted by his pack, if he changes his mind now there will be questions.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Scott begins.

“No, it’s fine. You were defending your friend, that means you’re loyal.”

Erica gives a squeak of joy and rubs her face into his shoulder, scenting him.

“You can ask her to stop if it’s bothering you,” Derek points out.

“What? Oh, I don’t mind.”

His heart doesn’t dip at all, he’s obviously enjoying the puppy pile as much as his betas. That’s good, close contact is necessary for bonding, it wouldn’t do to choose a beta who’s squeamish about touch.

“Would you mind letting me have a moment alone with my pack, Scott?” He says it as nicely as he can, but still feels a bit like an asshole. The statement, no matter how you pretty it up, is basically ‘get lost’.

“Deeerek,” Erica whines, “can we keep him, pleaaaaase?”

Snorting, Derek shakes his head, waiting for Scott to extricate himself from the pile of limbs.

“We’ll give you a call, okay?”

“Yeah!” Scott scurries out of the room, waving several times to the pack as he puts on his shoes, grabs his bag, and again as he’s closing the door.

“But really, can we keep him?” Erica asks when Scott’s gone.

Derek furrows his brow, not sure how to handle this. Scott is an obvious addition to the pack at this point, and if it weren’t for his relationship with Stiles Derek wouldn’t even hesitate.

“What, what’s wrong with him,” Isaac demands.

“Nothing,” Derek grumbles, because what’s he going to say?

I can’t bite him because the guy I thought I was paying to sleep with me might actually be plotting to kill us all, and since I’m incapable of not thinking with my dick I didn’t realize. Oh, and Scott is his best friend? Or even better, we have to add Scott to the pack, but I can’t promise he won’t try to murder us in our sleep, because… see above with the dick thinking?

No, he has to make this decision for the pack, and he has to stick with it, and either way hope that no one ever finds out about his… personal affairs. God, why had he ever thought listening to Peter of all people in the first place would be a good idea?

“Are you sure you’re on board with training a new beta? It’s a lot of work.”

“He’s not a puppy, Derek, and he’s taken a ton of courses,” Erica snips.

“Yeah, he was telling us about how the dance courses help him isolate the different parts of his body, why didn’t we ever take any of those?”

“Because we were bit young, dumbass, there wasn’t time for dance classes,” Erica rolls her eyes, “or would you rather have stayed in the foster care system longer so you could take them?”

“Fuck you, Erica.”

“Alright!” Derek booms, “if you’re all sure, then we’ll set it up.”

“He said he doesn’t have any family nearby, should we do it at home?”

“I think everyone would be more comfortable if we did it here, with, ya know, the medical teams on hand.”

Erica and Isaac continue bickering as Derek pulls out his phone, setting in motion all of the things that need to be done to claim a new beta.

Chapter Text

Stiles steps off the plane into the dry heat of Nevada. Alpha Garcia meets him on the tarmac, helping him with his luggage. The limo they ride in has lots of buttons for Stiles to play with, but he stops after he realizes that he’s being irritating. Mostly. Instead he fiddles with a mini water bottle.

“I’m so glad you could join us for the week,” Alpha Garcia is saying.

“Yeah, I mean, me too, I’m really excited to uh, get a feel for working with a pack.” Stiles’ voice is rough from the dry plane air, so he sucks down the water, spilling some on his shirt.

The werewolf smile looks pained, and Stiles goes back to fidgeting. He really does want to learn more about working within a pack, there’s only so much you can learn from books and lectures. He doesn’t know that he’s sold on working with this pack, specifically, though. Even if his plan falls through. He could be wrong though, it’s possible the Garcia pack is delightful and they’ll all click perfectly.

They do not. None of the betas seem to really appreciate his sarcastic humor, some of them even seeming offended. Stiles busies himself with learning about the local packs, and talking to Alpha Garcia about the bonding process. She’s reticent to share information, which Stiles finds frustrating.

On his second day there he gets a text from Scott saying he’s accepting the bite from Alpha Hale, and he sends back a thumbs up. He has to remind himself that the Derek he knew before would never hurt a beta. Even if the Derek who’d threatened him and kicked him out seemed like exactly the sort to use Scott as leverage, well he was going to trust his instincts. Even if none of it were real for Derek, no one is that good of an actor. (Right?)

He eats way too much sugar and stays up way too late, and doesn’t learn half the things he’d hoped to. It’s clear to everyone that Stiles is not the emissary for them, no matter how good he looks on paper, and he packs up again to head home.

Home. It’s been years since he’s been home. Always deciding to stay on for the extra class, the unassigned reading, the supplemental seminars, and whatever else he could dig up. He misses his dad, and his room, and the familiar faces of Beacon Hills so much when he lets himself think about it. So normally he doesn’t. He video calls with his dad, who finally figured out how to get his whole face in the frame after a month, and he tries to make his tiny dorm a place worth coming back to. Even if it’s not home.

He can’t wait to sleep in his own bed, even though he travels with the most important part, his pillow. He knows that eventually he’ll (hopefully) be emissary to a pack and home won’t mean a house, but instead a people, but he’s still drawn to the idea of the place where he grew up.

Scott keeps him updated on the change, having taken to the bite like a duck to water. He sends snapchats of his claws popping and receding at will, and Stiles feels remorse that he can’t be with his friend at one of the most important moments of his life. He lies when Scott asks how it’s going with the pack in Nevada, hoping with a sick sense of justice that it’ll get back to Derek where he is. Scott is as supportive and optimistic as ever, talking about how near the two packs are, and how maybe they can still hang out.

He’d point out that as an emissary for a rival pack he actually wouldn’t be able to just hang out with Scott, but he doesn’t want to worry him. Knowing his best friend he’d jump on a plane and ask to join the Garcia pack. Stiles shudders at the thought.

Stiles grapples with the decision of renting a car to get home, because it feels like cheating on his jeep. It’s a fourish hour drive, and Alpha Garcia offers to fly him there, but in the end he decides to road trip it. So he arrives late at night to surprise his dad with a visit.

Chapter Text

Derek drives home alone. He’d sent the rest of the pack via airplane, which they all groused about, but there wasn’t room for everyone in his car and he wasn’t willing to separate them right now. Scott is new, and while he does seem to have remarkable control for a recently bitten beta, he needs closeness with the pack.

Honestly, Derek wouldn’t mind some time with his beta’s right now, but their safety is paramount. Still feeling distrustful and on edge, Derek wants everyone home as soon as possible. He plans to do a bit more digging on Stiles when they’re back… purely for reassurances, of course. Not because he misses him. Or because he’d badly like to be convinced that the boy can be trusted.

He’d questioned Scott when he could get him alone, much to the betas confusion. Derek knows that subtly isn’t his forte, and he hopes that Scott isn’t jumping to the wrong conclusions. Whatever those would be. Everything Scott had shared lined up with what Derek already knew, and his heart was steady.

He can’t help it, something Peter said has been getting under his skin, and he can’t get the thought out of his mind. (Not that he trusts Peter, there’s just no one else to talk to about this. This isn’t exactly something he can call his mom up and ask about.)

He’d said that Derek had a horrible track record with relationships, (hurtful, but true), and he’d been wrong about Paige, about Kate, and about Jennifer. So why couldn’t he be just as wrong about Stiles?

Was that possible? Was Derek so fucked up beyond belief that when he was sure someone was on his side, he was wrong… and that just the opposite could be true? He’s not sure there will ever be enough evidence, or an absence of evidence, that will sway him. He’s too certain that he can never be trusted with this kind of decision again.

He plans to try, though. Which is how he ends up in the Beacon Hills Sheriff department, hoping for some one on one time with Sheriff Stilinski.

Chapter Text

The house is empty when Stiles gets home. Which is what he gets for showing up unannounced. He brings in his bags and leaves a trail of lights on before falling asleep in his bed. The Sheriff finds him there, at 2 am, huddled under a heap of blankets.

“Stiles,” he hisses, “Stiles!”

“Wha? Dad! Hey, I’m home!”

“I can see that, son. Mrs. Henderson called the station because there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway, and you left all the damn lights on.”

Stiles rubs his eyes, grinning sheepishly.

“Sorry, I wanted to surprise you, but you weren’t home, and I was really tired from the drive.”

“You drove here?!”

“From Nevada!” Stiles clarifies, “I was visiting the Garcia pack.”

John leans against the doorframe, sighing.

“Are you joining their pack?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. Not a good fit.”

“You okay?”

“Yea? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you came home out of the blue, Stiles. You haven’t visited in... I just thought something might be wrong.”

“Just missed you!” Stiles smiles sunnily.

The Sheriff rolls his eyes, not buying it.

“You go back to bed, I’ve got to head back down to the station, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“K. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Stiles can’t seem to fall back asleep, though, once his dad leaves. He gets up and unpacks his dirty clothes to run a load. He raids the refrigerator, throwing out anything high in fat or sodium, and then vacuums the living room. He doesn’t fall asleep again until the sun is rising on the horizon.

The station is bustling when Stiles shows up to take his dad to lunch. Parrish is on the desk, taking a call when he comes in. Stiles perches on the edge of his desk, playing with his pens.

“Stiles, your dad said you were back in town,” he says once the call is over.

“Saving kittens from trees?”

“You know it, he’s meeting with someone right now but he should be out soon.”

“Has he been eating right? You don’t let him get greasy burgers from the diner every day, do you?”

“No, we’re all very on top of it.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him suspiciously.

“What did he have for dinner last night?”

“Um. I’m not sure, I wasn’t on shift.”

“Mmm hmm, and who was?”

“Stiles, stop badgering the man.”

“Lydia! Light of my life! Red haired goddess, beautiful land mermaid, how are you?”

Lydia scoffs, throwing said red hair over her shoulder.

“Better than you, apparently. What, couldn’t hack it at emissary training?”

“I’ll have you know I’m very sought after.”

“I’m sure.”

The two stare daggers at each other before bursting into laughter and coming together in a hug. Jordan takes another call, ignoring them.

“You’re so thin, and you’re hair! What happened to your hair?”

Stiles runs a hand through it self consciously.

“Is it too long? I kept meaning to get it cut, but there wasn’t time and…”

“It’s amazing,” Lydia says, tugging at it, “leave it to you to have a glow up.”

“Aw Lyds, I’m touched, does this mean you’ll finally do me the honor of dating me?”

“Hands off, Stilinksi,” Jordan shouts across the station at him, and Lydia titters.

“Sorry buddy, off the market.”

“Ooh, nice, I approve. Any chance you guys are looking for a third?”

“No!” Jordan shouts.

“I heard Scott got the bite, how’s he doing?”

“Great, I think. I left right before he got the news, I feel a little bad.”

“Eh, he’ll live. We’ve missed you so much around here, how long are you in town?”

“I’m not sure, actually. Needed a break, you know?”

“Mmm. What’s her name?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Uh huh, it never is. Wanna get lunch and tell me about it?”

“I’m actually here to take my dad out.”

“He’s got some bigwig in his office, I don’t think he’s coming.”

“Really? Hold on.”

Just then his dad pops his head out of his office.

“Stiles, hey son, do you mind if we put off lunch? I’m kind of busy right now and…”

“Say no more, I just got a much more lucrative offer.”

The Sheriff snorts, “Hey Lydia, keep him out of trouble, will ya?”

“You got it Sheriff!”

Lydia links arms with him, walking him out of the building. The Sheriff closes the door to his office behind him before walking towards the breakroom. What’s up with that?

“So hey, who’s the cute new deputy?” He says, as they walk into the sunshine.

Chapter Text

Derek tenses when the smell of Stiles reaches him. He’s sitting in the Sheriff’s office, while Sheriff Stilinski makes coffee in the breakroom. Derek had come in under the pretense of informing him of his new beta, who he knew was at least peripherally connected to the Sheriff. In actuality he’s here to pump him about information about his son.

Stiles is in conversation with the banshee he’d passed earlier when the Sheriff comes back with lukewarm coffee. The smell is very off putting. Derek thanks him, and puts his mug on the desk.

“So, what can I do for you?”

Derek strains to hear the conversation between Stiles and Lydia. It’s easy to focus on him, the sound of his voice, his too fast heart beat, the smell of his skin so familiar he can almost taste it.

Derek clears his throat before speaking.

“I wanted to let you know that the Hale pack had taken on a new beta, I understand you know him personally.”

“Scott, yeah, him and my son grew up together. Inseparable, constantly getting into trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Oh, no, nothing serious, just sneaking onto the preserve to party or skipping school, that kind of thing.”

“And your son, is he interested in the bite as well?”

“Stiles? Oh no, he’s a spark, just like his mom. No, he’s wanted to be an emissary ever since he found out. I had to practically nail him to his seat to get him to finish high school, but I told him, nothing wrong with getting a proper education, that way no matter what he has something to fall back on. Not that he won’t be a wonderful emissary mind you,” he’s quick to say, “just that you know, he might change his mind one day, and I wanted him to have the option of doing something else. Maybe going to college.”

“That seems very wise. Has he found a pack yet?”

“I don’t think so. He was visiting with the Garcia pack this week, you know anything about them?”

The Sheriff sits forwardly eagerly, and Derek fights off the urge to growl at this new information.

“There fairly established. From what I remember Alpha Garcia is very serious. Stern.”

Derek hears Stiles coming towards the room to check if his dad is still coming to lunch.

“Actually, would you mind getting me a glass of water? If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Sure! One second!”

The Sheriff pokes his head out of the office and spots his son.

“Stiles, hey son, do you mind if we put off lunch? I’m kind of busy right now and…”

“Say no more,” he’s shouting back, “I just got a much more lucrative offer!”

Derek clenches his fists. Should he follow them? The banshee seems to be in a relationship with the hellhound, but… No. He’s not stalking Stiles. He’s just here for information. Stiles is not his to follow, his to protect, he very well might be a psychotic murderer. That does seem to be Derek’s type.

Though when the Sheriff comes back it takes very little prompting to get him back to talking about his son and his achievements, and Stiles seems more and more normal with every passing sentence. He’d played lacrosse with Scott in high school, though Scott didn’t get much field time with his asthma. He’d briefly dated Malia, and then Scott dated her, and then they all decided they’d be much better as friends. (“Kids these days, passing each other around like dance partners, well I don’t have to tell you.”) Stiles hasn’t come home to visit at all since leaving for the druid academy in Virginia, the Sheriff (call me John, son) thinks it’s because airfare is so pricey but Derek knows that the druids would have paid for his travel without a second thought. More likely Stiles was just very invested in his studies.

The Sheriff agrees to answer any questions Derek might have about Scott when he thinks he’s gotten as much Stiles info out of him as he can today. He directs him to the hospital to find Scott’s mom.

Chapter Text

“Ok, so spill.”

Lydia’s led him to the local diner where Stiles can finally get the curly fries he’s been craving for the years since he left. Some of the staff are the same people who watched him demolish plates of them alongside a mountain of milkshakes, but other faces are new.

“Spill what?”

“Please.” Lydia sniffs, looking at the menu like she’s not going to get what she always gets.

Or maybe she has a new order. Who knows what’s changed since he left. Somehow he’d thought that everything would stay still, stay the same while he was gone. It’s disconcerting to find out otherwise.

“I-maybe-slept-with-Scott’s-alpha-while-he-thought-I-was-an-escort-and-now-he-thinks-I’m-trying-to-kill-him,” he mumbles all in one breathe.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say? I could not have heard what I thought I heard.”

“Heeeeeey Sally! Long time no see! How have you been?”

Stiles pointedly ignores Lydia’s glare while greeting their waitress, a familiar face.

“Stiles! I didn’t think you’d ever be back! How’s your dad? We sure do miss him since his deputies banned him from coming around!”

“Eh, that’s my fault, he’d have a burger every night if I let him, his cholesterol, ya know?”

“Mmm hmm, you want curly fries and a strawberry shake, love?”

“Yes please!”

“And for you, Miss Martin?”

“Club sandwich and a diet coke, please.”

“Coming right up!”

“Stiles,” Lydia hisses, leaning forward, “what did you do?”

“Well okay, look, it wasn’t really my fault, it was all a big misunderstanding.”

Lydia listens as Stiles relays the whole ordeal to her, nodding and cringing at the appropriate moments.

“So basically you fell in love with an alpha werewolf with a shitton of baggage and managed to drag Scott into it, as well.”

“Ok, hold up, I never said I was in love with him, and he was the one who dragged Scott into it, not me.”

Lydia waves away his comment like it’s nothing, looking deep in thought as she sips her soda.

“So what’s the plan now?”

“Who said I had a plan?”

“Stiles.”

“Fine. I have a plan.”

Chapter Text

Scott decides very quickly that he no longer likes air travel. The smells and sounds all packed together, with no escape, it’s like a living nightmare. Isaac rubs his arm soothingly on and off, and offers him noise cancelling headphones from his bag. The touch is grounding, and Scott is grateful for it.

The airport is bustling when the land, people running to their terminals, screaming children begging for over priced treats, people yelling into their cellphones, fighting over outlets, dozing in uncomfortable chairs. It’s almost as overwhelming as the plane itself. Isaac holds his hand all the way to baggage claim, then Erica drapes an arm over his shoulder as they head towards the taxi line. Who knew being a werewolf meant needing touch this much? None of his classes prepared him for that.

Scott finds he doesn’t mind, though. Stiles and him have always been more tactile than the average pair, sleeping in the same bed during sleepovers and sharing space effortlessly whenever they’re together. In fact, the only thing that would be better than the comforting pressure of pack all around him right now is having Stiles here, too.

He doesn’t share this thought, though, in case it hurts his new family’s feelings. Instead he lays his head on Issac’s shoulder in the cab and lets Boyd’s thigh press against his own, because Erica’s claimed the front seat. They smell like home, now.

Home ends up being a short apartment building that Isaac informs him they own. Derek has the top floor to himself, and that’s where they hold pack meets. Peter has the ground floor to himself, Isaac makes some vague noises about pack hierarchy and moves on. Boyd and Erica share an apartment because they are like Scott suspected earlier, dating. Cora is on the same floor as the couple and Isaac, but apparently she's rarely home, often travelling. Isaac promises to introduce him to her before the next pack meet. Isaac has his own two bedroom, and he offers Scott the second room while he gets used to pack life. Scott happily agrees, and they spend the day clearing out the room so Scott can put his meager belongings in it. They’ll head to Beacon Hills later in the week to get the rest of his stuff, Isaac promises.

Scott can’t wait, he can’t wait to see his mom, and get his things, and start his brand new life. Derek has already agreed to foot the bill for him to go back to university to get his degree to be a veterinarian, and he’s eagerly anticipating starting to look at the local colleges. Isaac is doing an online degree right now, so he understands Scott’s enthusiasm. Erica thinks their both stupid for going to school when no one is making them. She works at a receptionist at the bike shop Boyd works at, and has converted one of the empty apartments into an art studio where she makes exorbitantly overpriced art. Being part of the pack seems to have let them choose their own paths in a way they might not have been able to otherwise.

Isaac, for example, would never have been able to afford college on his own. Derek had plucked him out of the foster care system after his mom died and a social worker noticed the bruises his dad left on his small body. He’d lived with Derek for almost a year before taking the bite, partly because of the mountain of paperwork for turning a minor and partly to make sure it was what Isaac really wanted. Erica came soon after, the process expedited because her parents were desperate to cure her from her epilepsy. Erica found Boyd after he was 18, so that was simple. Jackson came to Derek on his own and badgered him until Derek turned him, and then less than a year later ran off with a cute beta from another pack. Derek didn’t mind.

Scott is, Isaac tells him, the first beta they’ve picked from one of the centers. He’s not actually sure why he’d chosen to take on a new beta at all, after telling the pack they were just going to network and show face. Scott tells Isaac he doesn’t care, he was just so glad to be chosen. They stay up all night talking, falling asleep on the couch curled up together.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe we live in Sleepy Hollow,” Scott gripes as they pass the ‘you are now leaving Sleepy Hollow’ sign. “It feels like a cliche.”

“I don’t think there were any werewolves in that book,” Isaac muses, grabbing the m&m’s out of Scott’s hand and pouring some in his mouth. “Beside,” he says around the candy, “you’re from Beacon Hills, it’s literally a beacon, you might as well be from Sunnydale.”

“You watch Buffy?” Scott asks, digging through the snacks for something new to eat.

This new metabolism is killing him, he feels like an endless pit of hunger. Boyd has explained that protein helps the most while getting used to the transition, but portable protein wasn’t as easy to get his hands on as sugary snacks. (Though Isaac had packed lots of nuts and beef jerky, so really, he was doing okay.)

“Erica made us binge the whole thing, werewolves are massively underrepresented.”

“Stiles made me watch it, it was pretty good. I really liked the musical episode.”

“Uuug,” Isaac groans, “don’t tell Erica. She’s determined to do a shadow cast during a pack meet.”

“Shadow cast?”

The scenery whooshes past, Isaac is going over the speed limit, but Scott feels safe.

“It’s where while you’re watching it you either do the lines along with the characters, or you come up with things to say along to it. Haven’t you ever done a Rocky Horror showing around Halloween?”

“No,” Scott shrugs, “I’ve never even heard of it.”

“We’ll take you this year, Erica will love decking you out in fishnets and eyeliner.”

“Uhh…”

“It’s fun, I promise!”

“Do you wear fishnets and eyeliner?”

“And thigh high boots,” Isaac confirms.

Scott shifts uneasily in his seat and thinks about baseball.

“How much further, do you think?”

“Mmm, maybe fifteen minutes? We’re about halfway.”

“It’s so cool that the pack lives so near Beacon Hills, I can see my mom a ton.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s not around much, my parents got divorced years ago, he actually works for the FBI.”

“Does Derek know that?”

“Well, I mean, it was in my file? Why, does Derek not like the FBI.”

“He doesn’t really trust law enforcement.”

“Why not?”

Isaac blows out a puff of air, clearly debating how much to tell Scott.

“I guess you should know… when Derek was younger, like younger than us, in high school, a hunter tried to kill his family. They got out in time, but the local police never really did anything about it. Though I heard that once her brother took over for the family they pretty much exiled her. His cousin almost died, Peter’s wife actually ended up leaving the pack with the kids because of it. It was a really big deal, I guess.”

“Wow, that’s awful! I’m not super close with my dad, obviously, but I’d like to think he’d do better. I mean Stiles’ dad is the sheriff, and he’s really good about following up on all crimes, supernatural or otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Yea,” Scott bites into a slim jim, “he even has a hellhound on staff.”

“Cool.”

They ride in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the whooshing of the tires on asphalt and Scott occasionally rustling the plastic of the bag holding their snacks. He feels nervous to see his mom again, he’s not sure why. Maybe just the time apart, maybe because he’s coming back changed… different. Logically he knows that she’ll accept him no matter what, but irrationally a part of his is worried that she’ll be disgusted by his new self.

His mom is working when they get into town, so they head to the house first to grab some of Scott’s stuff. There’s not enough room in Isaac’s car to get it all, so Scott has to prioritize. He packs a garbage bag full of clothes, excited to have new things to change into other than the handful outfits he’d dragged across the country with him. His PS4, which he hadn’t packed because of space and because he wanted to focus on being the best candidate he could be, gets thrown in the car, along with all of his games. It’s weird, how after being away from all this stuff for a year, that so much of it no longer seems as essential as it had the last time he packed himself up.

Still, it’s not fair to his mom to leave all of it here, taking up space. Soon he’ll have to sit down and sort through it, deciding what he can maybe sell or donate, and what’s worth adding extra trips between Beacon Hills and Sleepy Hollow for. Soon enough he’s stalled as much as he can, Isaac getting ansty, so they head over to Beacon Hills Memorial.

Chapter Text

Melissa is less forthcoming with childhood stories about her son and his best friend than the Sheriff, but Derek tries anyway. She seems pleased that Derek came to introduce himself, but she’s very busy and only has a few minutes to chat. Derek promises to return another day so they can get better acquainted.

After he sits in the parking lot in his Camaro talking himself out of trying to find Stiles. There aren’t very many places to eat in Beacon Hills, it’s a relatively small town. If he knows Stiles like he thinks he does, no doubt he’ll be found somewhere fast and cheap, where the food is measured in quantity instead of quality. The one time he’d tried to take him out to a nice restaurant Stiles had dragged him into the bathroom, too restless to wait until they’d gotten back to the hotel room, commenting that if you’re going to pay $70 for a bowl of mac and cheese it should come with a blow job.

Derek winces, and tries to push the unbidden thoughts away. Now is not the time. As he’s about to pull out he notices a familiar car entering the lot. He sinks down in his seat, as if it will make his car less conspicuous. Luckily his betas seem too wrapped up in each other to notice him, walking into the hospital shoulders touching, heads bowed inward towards eachother. He waits for them to enter the building before rolling down his window, trying to listen.

Scott is still so new, though, their connection tenuous at best. He quickly loses their scents and heartbeats as they navigate the halls. Derek slowly follows, staying far enough back that Isaac won’t sense him.

Scott’s heart is going crazy, he’s clearly agitated. His scent is heavy and anxious, as well, a smell he’s not used to on the usually confident young beta. It quickly muffles and turns bright and happy, though, as his mother envelopes him in a hug. Scott catches his mom up, telling her that he’s grabbing some things from home, and look what I can do with my hand, and his mom listens patiently, with an indulgent look on her face. Derek imagines it’s how she looked when he was young and brought in a particularly interesting leaf or stone.

Melissa asks if he’s going to catch up with Stiles while he’s home and Scott is genuinely startled to hear that his best friend is in town. When his mom heads back to work Scott asks Isaac if it’s okay if he calls to meet up with Stiles, really quick, he promises, and Isaac tells him to go for it. Derek walks quickly back to his car to avoid being seen. He lets the boys get ahead of him on the road, cursing himself for having such a flashy car. It’s not like ever anticipated having to tail someone in it, though.

Isaac parks outside a small diner, and Derek feels a surge of pride at having guessed at Stiles’ taste. He parks in alley down the road. He can hear Stiles loud and clear from here, it’s like his voice cuts through everything, over the din of the people and cars, but he has trouble hearing everyone else.

Trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible, Derek walks across the street and buys a newspaper. He feels like an idiot as he opens it to cover his face and sits on a bench facing the restaurant.

Chapter Text

Scott walks into the diner next to a tall blonde boy, their arms brushing as they move. Stiles pushes down a small pang of jealousy, and stands to greet them. Scott introduces Isaac and Stiles offers an awkward wave.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks, pushing Stiles into the booth so he can sit next to him.

Isaac eyes the remaining seat next to Lydia and seems to contemplate shoving in next to Scott before Lydia rolls her eyes and moves over so he can sit across from him.

“Visiting my dad! The Garcia pack bankrolled it, I figured I could use a break.”

“Are you going to join them? The Garcia pack?”

Stiles shoots a quick glance at Isaac who’s staring at him like he knows him from somewhere but can’t place him before answering.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Didn’t really click, you know?”

“That sucks, you could’ve been so close to your dad!”

“I know, I tried, I swear I did,” Stiles holds up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute, “Alpha Garcia is just very… strict?”

“Strict?”

“Firm? Humourless? Serious? I don’t know, she didn’t get me. I couldn’t see spending the rest of her life getting scowled at for making dick jokes.”

“Of course you made dick jokes,” Lydia huffs.

“Like maybe two!” Stiles defends before pivoting to Isaac. “Is there something on my face?”

“Sorry it’s just… you smell familiar,” Isaac says, picking up his menu.

“Maybe it’s because we were always together?” Scott offers, “Could you have smelled him on me?”

“I guess,” Isaac shrugs, “I feel like… I just can’t place it. Sorry. What’s good here?”

“Curly fries!” Scott and Stiles shout in unison.

Isaac’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, his knee knocking against Scott’s under the table.

“You should join our pack,” Scott says, stealing a fry off of Stiles plate. “I can talk to Derek about it if you want?”

Lydia snorts.

“What? I’m new, but he might listen to me! He’s really nice once you get to know him,” Scott says perkily,misunderstanding, “he just looks scary.”

“He’s scary looking, eh?” Lydia says, raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

“Broody,” Isaac offers.

“Aw, you’re very own Heathcliff.”

“What?”

“Nothing, she’s just being weird,” Stiles deflects. “I’m sure he’s nice, Scott, but when I met with him he didn’t seem very into me being his emissary.”

“You met with Derek?” Isaac furrows his brow, and a lightbulb goes on over his head.

Stiles shakes his head at him, his eyes wide, and Isaac looks back and forth between Scott and Stiles before excusing himself, pulling out his phone.

“What am I missing?”

“Who says you’re missing anything?”

“I’m not stupid, Stiles.”

Lydia pointedly doesn’t join the conversation, pretending like her sandwich is the most interesting thing in the world.

“I’m just saying, I don’t think Derek wants me.”

“Your heart dipped!”

“You know how to do that already?”

“Double entendre,” Lydia says, smiling into her plate.

“I don’t think Derek wants me to be the Hale Emissary,” Stiles says this time, and Scott looks even more confused.

“What did you mean the first time?”

“I meant I’m a hot piece of man meat and any werewolf would be lucky to have me, so obviously Derek wants me, who wouldn’t?”

“Gross Stiles.”

“Hey! What now you got tall, pale and handsome and you don’t need me anymore?”

“What?”

Stiles gestures wildly towards where Isaac had left, “are you not fucking the werewolf?”

“What? No! Wait, does it look like he wants to fuck me?”

“Bit old for a sexual awakening, aren’t we,” Lydia says wryly.

“I’m not having an awakening!” Scott protests, suitably distracted.

“He is very dreamy,” Stiles muses.

“That’s true, you could do worse,” Lydia agrees.

“Those eyes.”

“That hair.”

“Those biceps.”

“Mmm, Jordan has excellent biceps, I totally appreciate them more these days.”

“When did that happen, by the way?”

“Oh, you know, here and there.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure there’s a story there.”

“Guys!” Scott breaks in, “do you really think he wants to fuck me?”

Stiles and Lydia break into laughter at the confused and lost face Scott is sporting, Stiles patting his shoulder comfortingly. Isaac comes back into the diner while Stiles is still snickering, unable to look at Scott without setting himself off again.

“What I miss?”

Lydia bites her lip, and Stiles stares out the window resolutely as Scott blushes a fire engine red.

“Nothing! Nothing! Who’d you have to call?”

“Huh? Oh, Erica. She’s going to stop by and meet everyone, if that’s okay?”

“I’m not busy today,” Stiles says.

“I have to head back to the station eventually, but I’d love to meet more of Scott’s pack, if I’m invited.”

“Ah Lydia, you are always invited to be anywhere I am.” Stiles says dramatically, clutching his chest.

“Are they dating?” Isaac asks, confused.

“No,” Scott snorts, “ignore them.”

Stiles gasps, “you wound me! One day my strawberry princess will see the light and run away with me.”

“Aren’t you gay?” Isaac looks back and forth between them, Lydia’s expression is fond.

“Rude. I’m bi. I swing both ways. All the ways. I’m an equal opportunity…”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Scott says, looking embarrassed by Stiles. “He’s a virgin. He’s not an equal opportunity anything.”

“A virgin, huh?” Isaac pops an eyebrow, and Stiles busies himself with his fries.

“Yeah Stiles, a virgin, huh,” Lydia prods.

“How bout them Mets?”

“Dude. Are you not… with who? When? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“You’ve been busy!” Stiles cries, stabbing a fry into his milkshake. “It’s not a big deal!”

“Stiles is in looooove,” Lydia sing songs, “I’ll have to find someone new to worship me now.”

“Love?! You’re in love?”

“I never said I was in love,” Stiles grumbles, “you can have sex without love you know, it’s a thing, all the kids are doing it.”

“But you can’t,” Lydia declares, “you keep your heart at the end of your itty bitty...”

“Stop! Stop right there!”

“Who is it,” Scott whines, tugging on Stiles’ arm.

“Ow, dude, stop with your super strength!”

“Sorry.”

“Look, it happened like a week and a half ago, it didn’t work out, he has like, baggage, or something, and it’s over.”

“Lie.”

“Stop that!”

“Is that why you’re home? Are you avoiding him? Is it another emissary?”

“No, Scott, I’m not avoiding him, and he’s not an emissary.”

Isaac and Lydia watch across the table as the two continue bickering, Stiles refusing to give an inch. The waitress comes by and Isaac points at Stiles’ food then makes a hand motion indicating him and Scott. She nods and smiles, clearly thinking the arguing boys are adorable before leaving to get their food. They might have continued arguing until their voices gave out if Erica hadn’t swanned in, all blonde hair and exposed cleavage, grabbing a chair and swinging it to the end of the booth to straddle it backwards before asking, “So, is this the guy fucking Derek?”

Pandemonium breaks out.

Chapter Text

Derek watches as Isaac leaves the diner, pulling out his phone, before sliding back behind the newspaper to cover his face. He argues for a moment with Erica, telling her she has to come now, no he doesn’t care if she’s on a test drive, actually that’s perfect, how far are you from Beacon Hills… Derek blocks him out to focus back on Stiles.

Derek feels something warm in chest while Stiles tries to convince Scott, in a roundabout way, that there’s an attraction between him and Isaac. They’re clearly very close, and the girl with them, Lydia, seems used to their antics, playing into it. Isaac comes back, and asks them to stay. His beta is planning something… maybe he should have been paying more attention.

Derek snorts when Scott realizes that Stiles isn’t a virgin anymore and then freezes. Shit. Shit shit shit, he hadn’t been lying. He doesn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before… it really should have. Derek tries to think back to that first night, was he too rough? Had he hurt Stiles? Did he… did he force him? Guilt and panic make his hands shake, as he wonders if he did to Stiles what Kate did to him.

No. No, he shakes his head. Stiles did this on purpose, he was luring him, he can’t let himself think of him as the victim again.

Nothing points that way, though. Nothing he’s found on his own, nothing from when they were together… If Stiles is telling the truth, then he’s done a horrible thing. In using him like that, in accusing him, in all the boundaries he ignored and… he remembers Stiles looking at him, so hurt, in the hotel. He’d done that.

He is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice Erica riding up on a motorcycle, parking it in front of the diner. She walks in, plants herself in front of the booth, and drops her bombshell.

Everyone stops for just a moment, staring at her, and then the roar coming from all of them, save Lydia, is deafening. He winces, trying to pull his hearing back a bit while still listening in.

“You slept with Derek?! When!? What the hell, Stiles!” Scott is shouting.

Erica grabs him by the collar, pulling him backwards while Isaac shouts, “What the hell, Erica?!”

“What? Derek reeked of him for like a week, there’s no way they weren’t fucking like bunnies!”

“You didn’t need to just say that!” Isaac snarls back.

Meanwhile Stiles has pushed himself into the corner of the booth while Lydia is telling him this is really all his own fault and Scott is still alternating between asking questions and screeching expletives.

The waitress drops their fries and milkshakes on the table and walks away. Erica is eyeing Stiles like she can’t figure out what the appeal is, while still pulling Scott away from his friend.

Derek snaps the newspaper closed and climbs up from the bench, feeling ancient compared to his betas. He can pinpoint the moment Isaac senses him, spinning around in his seat. Erica notices next, then Stiles, then finally Scott. Lydia taps something on her phone, and doesn’t turn.

“Wha?” Stiles breathes, grabbing the back of the booth as if Derek is going to tear him out of it.

Derek wonders for a moment if that’s an option.

“How’s that plan looking now,” Lydia asks him scornfully.

This seems to shake Stiles out of his panic, though Scott is staring up at him like he kicked his puppy and it’s a little distracting.

“Right! You!” Stiles barks, “I looked it up, and I can prove that I didn’t do… whatever it is you think I did.”

Derek cocks an eyebrow, waiting.

“Did you really sleep with Stiles,” Scott mewls.

“It’s a memory ritual,” Stiles says, shooting Scott an annoyed look. “Since you’re an alpha you can read my thoughts or memories or whatever,” Stiles gestures at his face, “and know if I’m lying or not.”

“No.” Derek says.

“Yeah, dude, no,” Isaac breathes, “that could kill you. And it hurts!”

“What?!” Scott squawks, “What?!”

“But it would work, wouldn’t it?”

Derek just stares at him, face impassable. Inside he’s losing it. No way could he do a memory manipulation on Stiles, Isaac’s right, it could kill him. Why would he even offer something like that? Is he really so desperate to prove he’s not lying? Is it another trick?

“What do you think he’s lying about, what does he think you’re lying about?” Scott looks back and forth between them, confused.

“There was a misunderstanding about who Stiles is,” Lydia offers, “a mix up, if you will.”

“Hey, actually, you’re the one who said you gave him my number in the first place!” Stiles shouts, excited, “what did you say when you gave it to him?”

Scott goes pale, his heart rabbit fast in his chest, and he’s avoiding Derek’s eye.

“Um, well, don’t be mad…” he starts.

Stiles and Lydia groan in tandem.

“It’s just, well, Peter, but I didn’t know he was Peter then, but um, he handed me this clipboard with all this information on the betas and training emissaries and on the top there was a name and a phone number? And I figured it was a 50/50 shot that it was a number for a potential emissary, so I just… swapped… your...number?”

He bites his lip while looking at Stiles, before ducking his head.

Derek is spiralling. It fits. It all fits. Why Stiles thought he was calling for an interview, how he swore he wasn’t lying. The shitty clothes and Deaton having him in the system. He’s been a colossal asshole. He fucked him without even verifying he was the escort he’d hired. It was like getting into an Uber that wasn’t an Uber, but worse, because it was his dick.

Stiles is smiling at him smugly, apparently feeling like all is well now. It’s not though. Derek didn’t know, Stiles might not have lied in the beginning, but he didn’t stop him when he realized what was happening. He put his reputation at risk, his pack, the trust of the druids. He could still lose so much, and he’s just looking up at him, self satisfied.

“You. Outside. Now.” He growls.

Stiles eyes widen and Scott’s flash gold. He growls up from the booth, either claiming or protecting Stiles. Derek doesn’t care which. He flashes his alpha eyes at Scott and cuffs him softly on the back of the head.

“I’m not going to hurt him. Let him out, now.”

Scott obediently slides out so Stiles can get out. He doesn’t, though, not right away.

“Whoa, hey, um, we can talk about this here, I mean,”

Derek growls again.

“Or, you know, outside works, too.”

Erica crinkles her nose at the smell of arousal coming off of Stiles, and Derek resists the urge to cuff the young spark over the head, too. No survival instincts, that one. Stiles throws a look over his shoulder at the table as Derek shoves him out onto the sidewalk.

Chapter Text

Stiles follows Derek to an alley where the Camaro is parked.

“Um, so, my dad always told me not to get into cars with strangers, and also if I was kidnapped not to be taken to a secondary location so really, this is all kinds of bad and,”

“Get in the car, Stiles,” Derek growls at him.

God he’s hot when he’s growly. It’s not fair. He wants to lord over him that he got it all wrong, thinking that he was some monster coming to hurt his pack, what an ass. Then he wanted Derek to make it up to him.

“Stiles.”

Right. He can smell arousal. Fair enough. He tries to reign in the horny has he gets into the car.

“Is your dad still at the station?”

“Whoa, creepy, yeah, he worked a split shift, which is like a double, except he got to go home and sleep except I’m pretty sure he didn’t. Sleep, I mean, but yeah, he’s at the station. Why? Oooh, are we going to go there and you’ll ask for my hand in werewolfy matrimony? Like as a mate? Because I’m pretty sure that my dad would say no to that. And also I’m not some commodity, you can’t trade me for like a herd of goats or whatever. This isn’t the way to the station,” Stiles observes, as he rambles, “not that I wouldn’t you know, eventually be down for the whole mating thing, maybe, I mean technically we’ve only been on like two actual dates, if you count ones where we put on pants and left the hotel, and also I didn’t know one of them was a date, but if you count like all the other times, it’s like eight dates, and I mean, normal people would spread eight dates out over like months, and that would totally be enough for matey thoughts, ha, matey, ah matey, but probably that’s too soon, don’t you think? So probably it’s not that and uh,” Stiles stalls out for a moment as they turn onto his street, “how did you know where I live? Have you been stalking me? You know my car is back at the diner, right? And I drove Lydia, and also if you try to murder me she’ll totally sense it and bring the calvary with her, I’m like supernaturally lojacked.”

Derek parks the car in the driveway, and Stiles wonders if Mrs. Henderson is calling the station right now.

“I take it you want to come in?” Stiles asks, then smirks when he hears the unintentional innuendo.

“Would you rather talk here?” Derek grits out, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“No!” Stiles says, throwing open the car door, “inside is better. Lots of nosy neighbors. Come on in to Chateau Stilinksi.”

The alpha wolf follows him up the porch, too much in his personal space as usual. Stiles unlocks the door and steps inside, half expecting to be mauled when he does (In the sexy way, though, not in a teeth and blood and dying way.) Instead, Derek just follows him in, taking in the stairs and living room from the entryway before heading for the couch.

He sighs, and looks at Stiles expectantly.

“Ooookay, so we’re sitting. I can sit! What’s up? Wanna apologize for calling me a liar who wanted to murder your pack? Cuz I’m waiting.”

Stiles perches on the arm of the arm chair, hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Yes, Stiles, I’m very sorry that I accused you of trying to kill my pack. That’s… that’s my own issue, and it had nothing to do with you.”

“Huh. Wow, okay, that was… I didn’t actually think you’d apologize,” Stiles rubs the back of his neck, feeling very uncertain. “I guess I should, um, apologize for not telling you that I wasn’t, or, uh, that I’m… you know, an emissary in training.”

“Yes. You should. Do you have any idea the danger you’ve put me in? The pack in? And now, by extension, Scott? If the druids found out and pulled their support the other packs could shun us. They could come and take our territory, I’d have to rely on Laura to take us in, otherwise they’d all be omegas and on the run. If hunters came after us, or we got in trouble with some other supernatural force, the druids wouldn’t help us. No aid, no knowledge, nothing. We’d never be eligible for a beta from one of the centers again, and no one outside of them would trust us. We’d sure as fuck never get an emissary.”

Derek sounds very mad. This is not how he expected this to go.

“Well, first of all, you brought Scott into this, and uncool, okay? I mean, he really wanted the bite, I know, but using him as an insurance policy? I don’t know if he’s going to get over that anytime soon. Not,” Stiles holds his hands up, “that I’m going to tell him, but he’s going to put two and two together eventually. He’s a little bit of an idiot but he’s not actually dumb.”

Derek just stares at him, well, glares at him, really.

“Right, and I didn't know about all of that, I mean, I knew that we could be both be in some kind of trouble but I didn’t really know the extent of it, obviously. I’m not a monster. And that it was very wrong and bad of me not to say anything…. But there really wasn’t a good time to tell you.!” Stiles rushes to finish.

“Before the sex would have been ideal.”

“Yes, but I thought the sex was all consenual and just for funsies!”

“Funsies?”

Derek’s eyebrows could kill.

“You know what I mean! I thought you were sleeping with me, the first time, because you wanted to, I know,” Stiles laughs, “idiotically, like you must have been so pissed to get me, wanted a refund, but um, yeah, I thought that you just liked me, and then I panicked when I found out that….” Stiles gestures vaguely, “and then it was like, whoa, how do I not get murdered for having this information about the Hale Alpha and also, I really wanted to keep sleeping with you, and yep, I hear it now, wow I am creepy, I’d show myself out, but this is actually my house, so um, it was nice seeing you,” Stiles stands from the armchair and walks to the door, “I won’t mention this to anyone if you won’t. Deal?”

Derek stares at him for a moment from the couch, expressions flitting across his face too fast to follow.

“I…” Derek stands, “I don’t know if I can just let this go, Stiles.”

He moves to stand next to him, and his eyes look so sad, Stiles wants to reach up and console him.

“Being a pack is all about trust, and I can’t trust you. So I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other anymore.”

“I didn’t ask to be part of your pack,” Stiles says petulantly. “Couldn’t we just?”

Stiles leans over and kisses Derek softly on the mouth. It feels like all the times before, not when things were hot and heavy and desperate, but like when Derek got home or before he left in the morning, like kissing on the couch when the movie didn’t hold Stiles’ attention or when he just wanted to kiss him, because he could.

Derek stands very still, his eyes closed, but he doesn’t push him away, so Stiles does it again.

“Just what, Stiles?” Derek growls, “date?”

“Date… yes, we could date!” Stiles is quite taken with the idea, moving in to kiss Derek like he means it.

“Stiles,” Derek steps back and he hates to admit it but the rejection hurts. “You need trust for dating, too.”

Right. Duh. That makes sense.

“But I could prove that I’m trustworthy! If you give me a chance! I won’t ever lie to you again and… I miss you,” he finishes lamely.

“I don’t date.”

“Well, I mean, me either, before you. Not, uh, not that we were dating, though I figure that’s what dating is like?”

“I have to go.”

He won’t cry. He won’t. He just nods, opening the door, looking at his feet.

“Look, I know Scott is important to you, so I’m not going to ask you to stop seeing him.”

“Pft, like you could.”

“But I’d appreciate it if you could give me some space, for awhile,” Derek finishes, his voice slightly raised.

“Right. Okay. Bye Derek.” His voice breaks just a little, he’s not too proud to admit, but he still won’t look at him.

He waits until the car is out of the driveway to cry.

Derek drives on autopilot. His chest aches in a way it hasn’t in years. This is why he doesn’t date. This is why he doesn’t get his feelings involved. He can’t trust himself and he’s clearly not capable of picking someone else he can trust, either.

Stiles smelled so sad, though. It was a stark reminder of their fight in the hotel, when he’d been so wrong. If he’d known sooner, could things have been different? Is Stiles right, if he’d come clean would he have just walked away faster? No, he knows exactly what he would have done. He’d have sent the pack to Laura and come to clean to Deaton immediately. It’s too late for that, now. There’s too much at risk, he’d be ending not only the safety of his pack but Stiles chances of ever being an emissary.

He hasn’t felt this inept since he first became an alpha. When his mother stepped down, they’d all assumed it would Laura who was her successor, it was almost unheard of for the alpha powers to shift to two betas. Laura had been pissed and everyone else had been confused. Peter and Cora had only agreed to stay with him to defend the Hale territory in California because otherwise he’d have no one. An alpha without a pack would be easy pickings, Hale or not.

Raising and training Isaac had helped him feel like he might not be the worst alpha in the world. Adding Erica, Boyd, and Jackson had helped solidify his territory and helped him become a better alpha, a better man. Other than his poor relationship choices, he thought he’d been doing quite well. Maybe he should just get chemically neutered, he thought sardonically.

He doesn’t know why Stiles still wants this, wants to pursue anything with him, knowing what's at stake. Derek knows he was too rough on him, that he let his own issues get in the way, that as always he’s hopeless when it comes to feelings. How can Stiles even respect him, knowing that the only reason this mixup happened was because he was willing to pay someone for sex? He has trouble looking in the mirror some days, knowing it.

No, it’s better this way. Everyone is safer, and Stiles is free to find someone worthy of being his alpha. Maybe one day he’ll settle down with a nice human, get married, and Derek will be a story he tells at parties, after changing the names. That’s probably the best any of them can hope for.

Chapter Text

Stiles refuses to mope just because Derek doesn’t want to date him. Or sleep with him. Or add him to his pack. Or even, you know, see him, at all. Well he mopes a little. He cries and feels sorry for himself, and comes up with impossible scenarios where Derek comes running back and tells him that he’s changed his mind, he can’t live without him and then… he carries on.

He has dinner with his dad, and they watch baseball, and he goes to bed at a decent hour. He texts Scott and packs a few things that might be helpful in the dorm and buys healthy groceries to stock the fridge.

Scott is still mad at him, he doesn’t answer his message for almost an entire day, a record for him. When he finally does, he wants details, so Stiles has him come to the house while his dad is at work. He leaves out the bit about the escort mix up, which makes the whole story a little ridiculous, but he implies that it was more of a blind date Peter was trying to set up, and that Stiles misunderstood and then never cleared it up, and now Derek is mad at him for lying. By omission, he defends himself, lying by omission. He didn’t mean to lie.

“So, are you going to keep seeing him?”

Scott throws a banana peel from his toad car, and Stiles shouts, stalling.

“He doesn’t want to see me anymore,” he admits, finally.

“But you want to.”

“I don’t know.”

“But you like him?”

“Yea, Scott, I like him.”

“Then I don’t understand why you can’t just work it out.”

“Because you need two people who want to work it out. And because I guess if I date Alpha Hale, not Derek, but Alpha Hale, we could both get in trouble with Deaton. How are things with Isaac by the way.”

Scott chokes, driving into a wall, before pouting.

“It’s not like that!”

“I meant as roommates, how is it having a roommate? Does he pick up after himself? Do you have a bathroom schedule? Do you have a system worked out for when one of you brings someone home?”

Scott falls off the map, and turns to glare at Stiles.

“You did that on purpose.”

“I didn’t do anything!! Jeeze, sensitive.”

“I’ll move into one of the other apartments soon, maybe after a few months, you know, get a few full moons under my belt. In the meantime, he does his dishes and yeah, he leaves his socks laying around in the living room, but he’s a really good cook and we play a lot of video games.”

“Would he maybe want to come over while I’m home? I mean, I have to head back soon, but I’d like to get to know your pack better, they’re like your family now, right?”

“Yeah…” Scott says uncertainly.

“And I can’t really go there, because I doubt Derek wants to see me, so… you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’ll ask him. Can I invite Erica and Boyd, too?”

“Yeah! Though Erica… she doesn’t like hate me does she?”

“I don’t think so, she’s just really dramatic.”

“Ah.”

Stiles whoops when he wins the level, and Scott throws potato chips at him. They play a few more games before he has to head back home to his pack. It makes Stiles feel a little lonely, his best friend moving on while he’s still stuck in the same place. Being home makes it feel even more real, like he never left, like he’ll never find a pack of his own. Scott must sense his melancholy because he promises to bring everyone by as soon as he can.

They text the next few days, and Stiles stocks up on all the goodies Scott recommends, hiding them in his room so his dad can’t find them. The last thing he needs is his dad consuming the calorie bomb that is Funyuns and complaining of heartburn for a week. He’s nervous about having the pack here, in his home. He really does want to meet Scott’s new family, but he worries that Derek might take it the wrong way. As if he’s moving in on the pack.

For once, he doesn’t have nefarious intentions, though. No plan, no scheme, he legitimately wants to meet the people Scott will be spending the majority of his waking hours with. To know that he’s in good hands. Soon he’ll have to head back to his training, and eventually he’ll have to pick a different pack to join. He might see Scott in passing, might be able to eke out a day to see him a few times a year, but these are the people who will be his actual family. So yeah, he wants to meet them and talk to them outside of their first meeting where Erica blew up his life. (Not that he hadn’t been working on blowing it all up on his own.)

So he’s nervous when they show up. He’s set up his Xbox in the living room so they don’t all have to cram into his room, and he’s put out all of the snacks, sodas in the fridge, extra blankets and pillows on the couches and floors for plenty of seating. His anxiety is ramped up to ten when the doorbell finally rings, and he lets them in.

Scott hugs him as soon as he’s through the door, knocking Stiles back a step.

“Thanks for this, bro.”

“For video games and snacks?”

“For wanting to meet them.”

He really is like an excitable puppy, Stiles thinks. Probably Isaac spelled it out for him, so now Scott is on board.

Isaac pats him on the shoulder as he passes, and Erica rubs his arm, Boyd brings up the rear and bumps his arm against Stiles’ in what he thinks is an affectionate manner. Stiles put this down to werewolves being incredibly tactile, and follows them into the living room.

Scott pats the couch between him and Isaac, and then Erica arranges herself at their feet. Boyd eyes the chair before Erica glares at him, so he sits on the floor, too.

Scott demands they play Mario Party so Stiles has to hook up the Wii. By the times everything is connected and controllers are passed out everyone is comfortable, Isaac is chugging a Mountain Dew and Erica has claimed a bag of Cheetos for her and Boyd.

The evening passes quickly, and Stiles finds that he genuinely likes the other wolves. Isaac is sarcastic and scathing, giving Stiles a run for his money. Erica often having to break into their banter as it quickly becomes clear that she needs to be the center of attention. Occasionally Body will offer an opinion, his deadpan humor usually going straight over Scott’s head.

Erica adds him to the beta’s group chat by the end of the night, so he has all over their numbers along with the other wolves. Jackson and Peter typically have the group muted, and Cora only pops in every once in a while, so it’s mostly just Erica and Isaac (and now Scott) sending each other memes and Boyd asking if anyone needs anything from the store. Still, it feels nice to be included. Nice to know that he’ll have a way of knowing what’s going on when he’s gone.

The wolves file out of the house with more soft touches, except for Boyd, who gives another shoulder shove. Stiles smiles at them, feeling relieved and reassured. Scott leaves last, with another long hug, and a promise to visit again before Stiles leaves.

Derek avoids the pack when they come home from a night out stinking of Stiles. Part of him feels hurt, almost betrayed, as if they’ve chosen sides and it isn’t his. He almost calls Stiles to yell, but knows it’s just an excuse to contact him again, so he bites back the impulse.

His life feels both smaller and larger at once without Stiles in it. Smaller, in that there’s no comforting presence when he comes home, no one to talk to, no one to watch movies with or eat with. Sure, his betas are nearby, but it’s different. Not the same, not as comfortable, as easy.

Larger in that everything seems so much emptier now. Like there’s something missing in the spaces around him. Which is ridiculous, because Stiles has never filled the space in his loft at all. He’s never sat on that couch, or whimpered in that bed, eaten at the table, kissed him by that door. The ghost of him seems to linger, just the same.

He considers just giving in, calling Stiles here from Beacon Hills. He knows without a doubt that he’d come running, even if all Derek asked of him was to warm his bed. For awhile, at least. He’d agree to be his emissary, his mate, whatever he solicits. It’s a heady bit of knowledge, and it makes him a bit sick. He remembers being so desperate for Kate’s approval, compelled to do whatever she asked just for a scrap of attention. He can’t do that to Stiles. He might think that what he wants is Derek, but he deserves so much more.

So Derek doesn’t reach out. He’d ignore Stiles if he reached out, he promises himself, but he never does. And he makes himself believe that it doesn’t hurt. That he doesn’t crave the validation it would bring, that it wouldn’t soothe him to know he’s not the only one who misses the easy camaraderie they’d found. It’s better if Stiles doesn’t ache for him, see him in the shadows, in his dreams.

Derek goes about his life robotically, as if in a fog. He doesn’t sleep much at night, and he’s more prone to snap during the day. Sometimes he’ll come upon one of his betas smiling down at their phone and jumping when they see him. He finally corners Scott about it, and he admits that Stiles has joined the beta’s group chat, often sending jokes and gifs randomly. Derek storms off and has to come back to apologize later.

It’s not that he wants them to cut Stiles out of their lives for him, it’s just… well that is what he wants, actually. That, or for Stiles to send him silly messages again. Upside down spiderman kisses, or movie quotes or emoji sentences that take him ten minutes to decipher. He’s not mad that Stiles is texting them, he’s mad at himself for caring that he’s being left out.

Cora finally gets sick of him sulking and sends him off to “find himself or whatever”, as Cora solves all of her problems by jumping on a plane or in a car. He has a pack meeting to make sure it’s really alright for him to leave with such a new beta, but even Scott tells him it’s okay for him to take some time. They’re all treating him like he’s going to break, and leaving Sleepy Hollow doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world, so he gasses up the Camaro and heads east.

Chapter Text

Stiles has trouble settling back into his routines when he returns to Virginia. He finds he doesn’t want to spend his weekends trawling for rare books or in the forests looking for fresh ingredients for spell work. He tries to throw himself into his studies, but it’s not easy like it was. It’s hard to focus on pack dynamics when he feels like he’ll never actually be part of one. He’s always had a short attention span but more and more he finds himself staring out the window instead of at his text books.

Danny notices his funk, the only one left now that Scott is gone that pays him any attention at all. He drags him out after almost two weeks of moping to a local club. Stiles doesn’t feel like going to a club, doesn’t feel like leaving his small dorm at all, but Danny reminds him that’s the point. If he wanted to go out Danny wouldn’t be worried enough to be seen with him in public.

Danny ditches his boyfriend, Ethan, for the night, which he grumbles about as he forces Stiles into a pair of skinny jeans and a tight top. Stiles feels naked, though, and grabs a button up on the way out of the door. He finds that even without the second shirt he’d still be more dressed than most of the residents of The Outback. (Stiles finds the name of the club hopelessly entertaining, and Danny has to shove him past the bouncer because he’s still snickering about it, asking Danny is he wants to use his Outback.)

Almost instantly there’s a man grinding on his hip, and Stiles yelps, jumping away. Not used to people just assaulting him at random, he apologizes. The boy nods, before turning and doing the same to a tall skinny man who seems much more appreciative of the action. Three drinks in and Stiles lets a tall handsome man grab him around the waist before pulling him onto the dance floor. If he squints he almost looks like Derek, so he squints. Or rather, he jams his ass into the guys groin and tries to keep a beat. He must have Derek on the brain (like he’s ever far, these days) because he swears he spots him a few times glaring at him. Whenever he tries to find the Derek doppelganger, though, he just finds a Derek shaped person. (Sometimes they aren’t even Derek shaped, he’s just drunk enough and desperate enough to think everyone looks a little bit like Derek at this point.)

He’s gone 21 years without any kind of sexual contact with another person, but now he knows how good it feels, and he misses it. He wonders if he couldn’t just pick one of these Derek shaped people and get it out of his system. Don’t people always say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?

Stiles finds someone with suitably broody eyebrows to dance with. He thinks this is an excellent plan, perhaps the best plan he’s ever had, as the tall stranger manhandles him in the middle of the dance floor. It’s entirely possible that he’s developed some questionable kinks in his time with Derek, but for now, he goes with it. The hands on his waist, then his hips, cupping his ass, are a good distraction. He’s spun around, laughing, clinging to unfamiliar arms as he tries to keep his balance. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last shot… but it had tasted so good and it glowed under the blacklights… what was life worth living if you weren’t going to drink questionable alcohol in the middle of clubs? His eyes scan the club, finding Danny at the bar arguing with a man who’s pointing in his direction. Weird. Focus, Stiles.

Mr tall dark and broody smiles down at him lecherously, and now that Stiles can see his face up close, through the haze of alcohol, he’s much less cute. Or, well, he’s plenty attractive, but he doesn’t look like Derek at all. His face is clean shaven and his teeth are straight and all the same size, his eyebrows aren’t even that broody! Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on the music, and tries to get back to feel light and carefree. He recoils when he feels the other mans mouth on his, ducking out of his grasp.

His dance partner looks stunned and then angry, glaring at him. Stiles feels awful, like he’s being a tease, but he’s really not into it. Before he can apologize, though, he’s being grabbed by the arm and pulled across the bar. Stiles stumbles along, turning to find Danny next to him, the man he’d been arguing with earlier the one dragging him.

“I can’t fucking believe you, he’s going to get himself, or you killed,” the man snarls at Danny, depositing Stiles next to the bar.

Stiles blinks up at him, confused.

“Stiles, are you seeing someone?” Danny asks him, hesitantly.

“What? No.”

“I’m telling you, this kid has a fucking alpha.”

“Clearly he doesn’t,” Danny snaps back.

The man grabs his hand and slaps it onto Stiles’ wrist.

“Fucking feel, then.”

“Uh, guys?” Stiles is very drunk and very confused. “I’m not really into threesomes.”

Danny writes a rune he doesn’t know on his arm and it burns. Stiles yelps, pulling his arm back.

“What the fuck, Danny.”

Danny looks at him with wide eyes, grabbing his arm back.

“We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Uh, okay,” Stiles says dumbly, “would someone mind explaining what’s going on?”

“What’s going on is you didn’t tell me you had an alpha and let me drag a bonded mate into a club to get groped,” there’s definite panic on Danny’s face, “fuck.”

“Uh, I’m not sure what all of that meant, but I don’t have an alpha, I’m a freeeee agent,” Stiles sings.

There’s a low growl from behind him and god help him, his dick is standing at attention in an instant. Stiles doesn’t immediately turn around, instead watching as Danny is forcibly pulled out of the club by his friend, who's eyes seem to flash red at Stiles as he goes.

Chapter Text

Derek doesn’t know what he’s doing at this stupid club. He shouldn’t even be in this state let along stalking an ex in a bar. Can even call Stiles an ex? He’s a mess.

He’d left California and headed to New York. He slept on the road, ate on the road, and gunned it, but it still took over two days to get there. He should’ve stopped and showered, should’ve taken a night to sleep in a hotel to get rid of the bags under his eyes, dragged a comb through his hair, put on fresh clothes. Instead he stumbled into his sister’s territory looking like an escaped convict, and no doubt smelling like one, too.

Tensions between their packs had cooled once they’d set up on opposite sides of the country, but it still feels weird seeing his big sister again and having to bow to her instead of wrestling her to the ground like he wants to. He knows it bothered Laura more than she’ll ever let on that the magic had chosen both of them, that she feels like she was found lacking because of it, but there’s nothing Derek can do about that. So he defers and he’s given a room and told to shower and then Laura joins him for lunch.

“What’s the matter, Der-bear?” She asks when he’s done shoveling food into his face.

“I wanted… is mom here? I wanted to talk to mom.”

“You could’ve called. There’s these things called phones, now, and computers! You can call someone right up on your computer and bam, there they are, in high definition.”

Derek bristles, but just looks down at his plate.

“I messed up, Laura. I just wanted some advice. I needed some space.”

Laura sighs, nodding.

“Alright. I’ll call her, but you have to promise to talk to me when you’re done. I’m sure there’s something we can do, a way to fix whatever it is.”

“Thanks,” Derek feels like crying, but he doesn’t.

He’s missed her so much. They’d always fought growing up, too much alike his mother said, but they’d always assumed they’d grow out of it. They might have, Derek thinks, if the Hale magic hadn’t decided to be funny and divide them even further.

He has to wait for Talia to come back from a walk because she’s not answering her phone, so Derek heads up to the room Laura’s given him to take a nap. He sleeps for hours, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.

His dad wakes up him up for dinner, and he’s forced to sit through it with Laura’s pack staring at him. He grew up with some of these people, family and pack alike, and it’s odd seeing them again now, after so many years apart. They aren’t his pack anymore, he can’t feel them like he used to, connected. It’s unsettling, so he’s glad when it’s over, and everyone heads their own way again.

His mom leads him into Laura’s study, and shuts the door. It’s soundproofed, he can tell, as the sounds of the rest of the house fall away. He’s grateful for the privacy. It’s hard telling his mom everything. It comes out in halting sentences, and at one point he cries, but Talia just sits, unmoving, in her chair. The shame of having to explain that he pays people to sleep with him is almost too much to bear, but there is no judgement on his old alpha’s face. Then explaining the mixup, that Stiles is going to be an emissary, that he’s fucked up almost as badly as last time… he wishes the floor would open and swallow him up.

When he’s done, Talia leaves and comes back with Laura. They are stern, but if they are disappointed they don’t let it show. Laura tells him his pack is always welcome here, no matter what, no matter how badly Derek fucks up, she teases. Talia tells him she knows he’ll do the right thing, whatever that is, but no, she can’t tell him what it is.

She doesn’t say the last time he put someone before pack she almost killed hers. And Laura doesn’t say the last time he trusted an emissary she almost pulled his pack out from right underneath him. Derek is grateful, because these are both things he already knows.

Derek stews for a few days before deciding to head home, but instead of jumping back onto the highway and heading towards California, he feels himself moving south. He’s in the state before he lets himself admit his destination, telling himself he’ll just stop by for a minute. He doesn’t even need to see Stiles, he’ll just check that he’s alright.

He’s not in his room when he gets there, though. He stops a boy leaving the dorm to ask after him, and he rolls his eyes and tells him that Mahealani dragged him to a local club. Derek googles it in the Camaro and debates going. He’s come this far, though. He might as well go, see if he can’t catch a glimpse.

So now he’s standing in this club, watching Stiles drink himself stupid, while he lets men grab and grope him. He listens for his heartbeat, but can’t find it under the booming bass and mix of music and voices. A few times he thinks Stiles spots him, but he’s easy to evade.

Derek wants to leave, but he’s rooted to the floor. This is what he wanted, an insidious voice reminds him. He’d wanted Stiles to move on, to be happy and to get over him. To make both of their lives less complicated, to save the pack, to save his career. He just didn’t expect to have to watch it.

Stiles body language broadcasts everything he’s thinking, Derek has no idea how he ever thought he could be some kind of mastermind. It’s clear, for example, that he’s having fun right now, as he spins in the arms of another man. He laughs, teetering, and Derek swallows a growl at where they’re skin touches.

It’s just as clear that Stiles isn’t having fun anymore a moment later, though Derek doesn’t think anything has changed other than Stiles’ demeanor. The man he’s dancing with doesn’t seem to notice, though, and Stiles closes his eyes in a clear attempt to recenter himself.

Derek clenches and unclenches his fist, wanting to rescue him. Stiles can defend himself, though, and just appearing at his side in the middle of a club when he’s supposed to be on the other side of the country is not the best idea. So instead he just watches, he watches as Stiles stumbles in the man’s grip, watches as the man leans down to kiss him and Stiles baulks, escaping.

Derek takes a step forward as another man grabs his arm, pulling him away from the danger. (The danger of being kissed, he chides himself, pull it together.) Stiles is clearly confused but then he sees another boy he recognizes, and his expression clears. Derek moves closer, but he can’t make out what they’re saying over the noise from where he’s standing. He inches closer as the other two men argue, and then Stiles yelps, and Derek is shoving through bodies to get to him.

“Uh, I’m not sure what all of that meant, but I don’t have an alpha, I’m a freeeee agent,” Stiles is saying.

Derek can’t help it, a growl rips out of him, Stiles is his. Alarm bells are ringing in the back of his mind, but he ignores them, crowding against Stiles’ back as his friends move away. The one Stiles didn’t seem to know flashes red eyes at him, and it takes every ounce of control he has in him not to attack him. The human part of Derek recognizes that he’s just protecting the other boy, perhaps his mate, and he stands his ground behind Stiles.

Stiles. Fuck. The drunk boy is staring after his companions, but this close Derek can smell the arousal coming off of him in waves. Derek grabs his arm and pulls him towards the back exit, pushing him into the alleyway behind the club.

“Derek?”

Derek growls, driving him against the wall. Stiles whimpers, staring at him with eyes that are almost all pupils. He smells so good, did he always smell this good? Derek noses along his neck, breathing him in, trying to placate his wolf before he does something stupid. Stiles takes the decision out of his hands, grabbing his ass, crashing against him.

He feels himself losing control as he bites down on Stiles shoulder, marking him, claiming him, wanting to leave something behind as evidence that Stiles is his.

He’s not, his brain supplies through the fog of arousal and anger, he’s not mine. But he looks like mine, panting and submissive against the cold brick. Stiles arches his neck, licks his lips, looks at him out of the corner of his eye. His body language couldn’t be clearer, and it keeps pushing Derek over the edge as he tries to grapple for control.

Mine, mine, mine, his brain chants as he sucks bruises up the bared skin, mine, as he palms him through the ridiculous skinny jeans he’s wearing, mine, as he moans into his neck.

“Fuck, Derek, what are you doing here,” Stiles pants, arching into his touch.

Derek ignores the question, unzipping the too tight pants and shoving them down. He pulls Stiles out if his underwear, slowly pumping his hand, watching him come undone underneath him.

“Derek,” he keens, and Derek feels a dark flush of satisfaction knowing that anyone walking by would be able to hear what he does to him, what he’s doing to him.

He sucks another bruise into the soft skin of his neck, liking the way the skin looks red and swollen, a beacon to anyone who sees it. He needs to pull back, he knows he does, but it’s so hard with the way Stiles feels against him, the way he says his name, the way he moves in his hand.

“Alpha,” Stiles breathes, canting his hips.

Giving up the last vestiges of his control, he drops to his knees. In for a penny in for a pound, his mind whispers, as he swallows Stiles down. Stiles reaches down, tugging at his hair gently, and Derek moans. His fingers should be illegal, he didn’t know it was possible before Stiles to get turned on by someone’s hands.

Stiles cums on a shout, shooting down his throat, and then he sets to work licking him clean, his wolf feeling more satisfied than it has since the last time he had Stiles in his bed, perhaps even more than then.

“Derek, holy shit,” Stiles is gasping, his legs wobbling beneath him, “I missed you, I missed you so much,” he’s rambling, his hands still absentmindedly tugging at Derek’s scalp.

This is wrong. He hasn’t made any decision, come to any conclusions about where they stand, he acted on instinct, and now Stiles is a mess telling him he missed him. Derek helps him pull up his pants, like it will erase what he’s just done, and Stiles nuzzles at his chest, grabbing his shirt in his hands.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I really didn’t know you could get in so much trouble, I won’t do it again.”

He smells sad again, as he clings to him, practically begging Derek to tell him it’s going to be okay. He doesn’t know that, though, and he doesn’t want to lie, to give him anymore false hope than he already has. Derek slowly starts to extricate himself from Stiles’ grip, who looks up at him with his big sad eyes, confused.

“Don’t go, no, I’m sorry, I said I was sorry.”

He can’t just leave him here in an alley, he reasons, so he lets Stiles grab his hand. Just to keep him safe, just for right now. He pulls a staggering Stiles down the alley, stopping before they reach the busy sidewalk. He listens long enough to determine that his friends are still waiting at the front of the building, arguing.

He turns to look at Stiles, wondering if he can really stand to let him go again.

“Derek,” Stiles sighs, slumping against the wall, “I’m sorry,” he repeats again, “I love you.” His eyes droop closed, but his hand still grips his.

Shit. Derek fights his panic at the words. The last words Paige said to him, the words Kate said to manipulate him, and then sneered at him at the trial. The words Jennifer used to get his guard down. They make him feel sick, not because he thinks Stiles is using them to control him, but because Derek could so easily flip them around, use them to take advantage of the young emissary. It’s too much. He can’t be trusted not to hurt this man, who tells his friends he has no alpha then follows him eagerly into an alley. He can’t trust himself around him, to put his best interests first, not when there’s so much hanging in the balance.

So instead he mutters a few words under his breath to the other alpha, and that hurts, knowing he’s handing him over to another wolf, but he makes himself. He kisses Stiles on the forehead who mumbles a sleepy sound of appreciation, before pulling away and disappearing into the night.

Chapter Text

Stiles is pretty sure he’s never been this hungover in his life. He’s dehydrated both from the overindulgence of alcohol and the sobbing he’d done once Danny had tossed him back into his dorm. For some reason the other training emissary was upset with him, but he refused to explain it while Stiles was still drunk. He was a wreck, so that was fair.

He’s still not sure where Derek came from. One minute he was on the other side of the continent, being Scott’s alpha, and the next he was making sure that Stiles couldn’t get down and dirty with some rando in the club. That’s how it felt, at least. He was so hot and cold, he was giving Stiles whiplash. He felt ashamed at how needy he’d been while drunk, at his verbal vomit. Derek clearly wasn’t moved by his declarations.

And how could Scott not warn him that Derek was coming in the first place? Was there no bro code? Stiles definitely wouldn’t have been in a club looking for a way to wipe Derek from his thoughts if he’d known seeing him in person was an option. He was pathetic.

Speaking of Scott… Stiles unlocks his phone and stars a new group chat just with the betas he knows. The last thing he needs is Peter joining this conversation.

Stiles throws his phone on the bed and eyes his closet. He didn’t bring any scarves because it’s Virginia and it almost never gets below 20 degrees. He has a winter coat somewhere, he can’t remember the last time he pulled it out, but definitely no scarves.

He can’t have this conversation with his neck covered in hickeys and bite marks, though. And he’s not putting it off, so he needs to figure this out. Realizing he doesn’t have anything useful in his dorm, he heads to a nearby store. He picks concealer up from the beauty aisle, figuring it’s his best shot.

A youtube tutorial and an hour of frustration later and he wishes he’d just looked for a damn scarf. He’s hidden the worst of it, though, and he wears a hoodie that will help hide what he couldn’t.

Deaton agrees to see him right away, which is a relief. He doesn’t know if he could take another day stewing and coming up with worst case scenarios. His nerves are frayed to the breaking point.

“Mr. Stilinski, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Deaton’s office has always intimidated him. The more magic he learns, the more magic he can sense at play in the room. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to feel it all, or if some of it will be lost to him because he doesn’t have the talent.

“I, uh, I had a question, a hypothetical question, and I was hoping you could help me out.”

Stiles’ knee jumps up and down under the desk. Deaton just stares at him impassively, waiting him out.

“Right, so, hypothetically, what would happen if a werewolf and a training emissary started dating and they didn’t, uh, tell anyone?”

“Well,” Deaton leans forward, steepling his fingers, “we discourage our trainees from engaging in romantic relationships with werewolves because it greatly reduces their chances of being able to find an alpha willing to take them in, as pack bonds are known to form accidentally. However, it’s not forbidden. If you and Mr. McCall would like to continue dating, we won’t stop you.”

“What?” Stiles yelps, “no, no, it’s a hypothetical, it’s not about me at all, and it’s definitely not like that with Scott and me. No way.”

Deaton makes a noncommittal noise, and Stiles is pretty sure he doesn’t believe him.

“Right, okay, so hypothetically, if my friend were to date an alpha werewolf, how bad would that be?”

Deaton stares at him, before sitting back in his chair.

“Well that would be much more serious. I wouldn’t recommend your friend pursue that avenue at all. In fact, if your friend has started a romantic relationship with an alpha werewolf I’d recommend that you report it immediately for their safety.”

“Oh, no, he’s totally safe, I don’t think he’s in any danger, um, it’s just, would the alpha werewolf be in a lot of trouble? Like, what if he didn’t know that the uh, person he was dating was a training emissary? Would he still get in trouble?”

“This is getting oddly specific, Mr. Stilinksi, I’m afraid that your friend should come see me, and soon.”

“Right, um, I will tell him that. But… like what are we talking about here? Banishment type trouble? Or like, that was very wrong of you, don’t do it again type trouble?”

“As I said, it would matter on a number of factors, please have your friend see me.”

“Okay, just one, one last question. Would it help at all if the emissary were to drop out?”

“Mmm. Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Stiles nods, wishing Deaton weren’t so damn cryptic, because he’s desperate for answers. It’s clear that he’s not going to get them today, though. There are, of course, other ways of getting information. And if there’s anything Stiles is good at, it’s research.

Derek went home. Derek went home because if he didn’t he might stay. He wanted to stay, his wolf howled at him the whole ride, making him feel more divided than he had ever before in his life. His wolf could shove it. He didn’t belong in Virginia with Stiles… didn’t belong with Stiles at all. Or if he did, he needed to figure out how to do it without risking both of their lives. Yes, he reassured his wolf, we’ll just go home and figure out how to fix this.

His wolf didn’t believe him. All of him knew that he’d worked too hard for too long to bring his pack together to jeopardize it all. It had just been Isaac and Erica the last time, with Jennifer. When she’d seen that he and his tiny pack with four betas were easy pickings, especially with all of the Hale magic coursing through his territory, with no emissary to keep it in check. If Peter hadn’t sensed her lingering pack bonds, if Erica hadn’t found her suspicious and followed her, if Isaac hadn’t been depending on him to survive and care for him… well he doesn’t know what would have happened.

He can’t put them all through that again just because his wolf has found it quite likes the look of Stiles. Even if he were able to find a way to have him and keep his pack safe, he doesn’t think he could exploit him like that, not after he’s confessed his feelings so openly. Not when Derek doesn’t know if he’ll ever be really whole enough to reciprocate them in a way that matters.

No, the best course of action is to put as much space between him and Stiles and move on with his life. Far enough away that his wolf doesn’t get any fun ideas on the full moon. No one has ever stretched his control like this, it’s maddening.

The betas will lose touch with him after he’s found a pack to work for, no doubt. Then things will go back to normal. He just needs to figure out what to do with his face in the meantime when they bring him up. It goes without saying that Isaac and Erica are onto him, able to read him better even than his family. Erica had known he was “seeing” someone long before Isaac sniffed him out, had dropped little hints and made snide comments. It’s a wonder she hasn’t stumbled on his escort habit before now. Or maybe she had, but was helping him save face.

It didn’t matter. He’d do better. He’d forget he had the option of sending his pack to Laura and turning himself in, because if he thought on it too long, he’d throw his whole damn life away.

Chapter Text

Stiles spent all of his waking hours, and some of the ones he should have been sleeping, researching. He read anything he could get his hands on about the druids, about the academy, about the history of it. He was surprised to find that the current system for training emissaries went back barely fifty years and the housing and training of potential betas was even newer.

He read the fine print on the application to get in, and the wikipedia pages of every teacher and administrator he could think of. He read and he read and he read, and he didn’t feel any closer to figuring out the consequences of breaking an unwritten rule.

That was the problem, really. There weren’t a lot of written rules. It seemed that most things were just more social taboos. Things you knew because they were common sense, and because they were common sense so were the consequences. Except he couldn’t find a record of people breaking any of the rules. He was sure they were somewhere… in Deaton’s office, maybe, but nowhere public. No forum posts whining about unfair punishments for skipping classes or breaking curfew, there didn’t seem to be any record of on campus complaints… nothing.

It also appeared that the set of rules for training emissaries and potential betas were different. Stiles knew that he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, that he was welcome to use the library but that he couldn’t take any of the books out. He’d known that he wasn’t supposed to see an Alpha or a hunter matriarch without approval from Deaton, but it hadn’t occurred to him that it was a big rule. He also couldn’t remember how he knew all of these things. Had he had a code of conduct or something when he first enrolled?

A few text exchanges with Scott reveal that there were penalties in place for all sorts of things for the potential betas. For example, if he didn’t take three or more training activities a week, he could be asked to leave, or if he failed more training exercises than he passed. Stiles supposes this makes sense, if you can’t master control as a human it’s probably a bad idea to get the bite. That, and with so many people wanting it, the druids likely wanted to weed down the playing field in whatever ways they could.

Scott also told him that he hadn’t been allowed to meet with visiting alphas without an all clear from the druids. When Stiles asked him how he knew all of the rules Scott told him he was an idiot, he was told at orientation, obviously.

And now that Stiles thought about it, he had attended an orientation assembly when he first enrolled. Before he was any good at clarity or focus runes and had to rely on his medication, which he avoided taking because it made his spark feel distant and weak. The emissary classes were very small, with so few sparks in the world, he remembers sitting next to that creepy fucker Matt in a stuffy classroom while a teacher had gone over the basic rules. That made sense. He wonders if he couldn’t ask for a written copy of the rules… would it make it too obvious? Deaton is probably watching him more closely now since he presented him with his hypothetical.

He remembers seeing a small boy, probably around 15, in the cafeteria. It was reasonable to assume he was a newer addition to campus, that the rules might be fresher in his mind, along with any consequences that might have been mentioned.

Stiles sets off for class with a new motive in mind. Corner the new kid, Marshall or Mason or some other M name, and get a refresher course on the capital r Rules.

He never gets a chance, though. Because in Magical Uses of Plants (an ongoing class that everyone takes for as long as their in attendance, because there are so many plants, and so many uses), Danny is called out of class by Deaton.

“Again!” Derek barks, as Scott and Erica pant. “I said, again!”

They both stand, Scott wobbly, and circle. Erica fakes a rush forward and Scott stumbles backwards, into a defensive position. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, grinning wildly.

“Is that all you got, McCall?”

Scott huffs, dashing towards her, but she ducks out of the way at the last moment, kicking the legs out from under him as he passes.

“Again!”

“Come on Derek, don’t you think he’s had enough?” Isaac whines, slouching against a tree, wincing as Scott tries to stand and falls again.

“He has to learn, this is the fastest way, you all did it.”

“Yeah but…”

“But what?”

“But you’re being extra hard on him because you’re grouchy that you’re not getting any,” Erica calls from the clearing, offering Scott a hand up.

“I am not extra grouchy, perhaps Scott just isn’t up for it.”

Scott growls, shaking off Erica’s hand, and dives for her ankles. She’s so startled she trips backing up. Isaac slow claps and Derek rolls his eyes.

“Boyd, you’re up.”

“Really, Derek?”

“Yes really, Erica. Come sit down if you need to.”

Boyd saunters into the clearing, eyeing the exhausted beta. He’d had to do this when he was added to the pack, it’s a bonding exercise that helps strengthen pack bonds while giving Derek a chance to find the newbies weaknesses. He agrees with Erica, though, he doesn’t remember it being this brutal.

He waits for Scott to catch his breath before throwing his first punch. Scott barely dodges, weaving like he’s drunk.

“You okay, man?”

“Ya, no, I can take it,” Scott pants, hopping backwards, arms up like they’re in a boxing match.

“Okay,” Boyd says, shrugging his shoulders, “if you say so.”

Hoping to get it over fast, he darts forward and grabs Scott around his knees, flipping flat onto his back.

Behind him he hears Derek gasp. He feels a moment of panic at his Alpha’s condition, he’s bowled over, eyes clenched shut, and then he feels a rush of adrenaline followed by panic that is not his own.

His eyes dart around the clearing, checking on his friends, because the feeling came through the pack bonds.

“Where’s Cora? Peter?” Erica is barking, sprinting towards the cars.

“Stiles,” Derek gasps out, “it’s Stiles.”

“What? No. Stiles isn’t pack,” Isaac protests.

Boyd concentrates on the feeling, the panic, the fear, and it feels… strange. Derek is right, it doesn’t feel like anything he’s felt through the bond before.

Scott is on his phone, and Boyd can hear it ringing on the other end.

“Hey, this is Stiles, you know what to do.” Comes out of the speaker. Scott jabs the buttons, redialing.

“Come on, come on, pick up, pick up,” he’s whispering.

“Why is Stiles pack?” Erica asks.

“I don’t know, he shouldn’t be, he hasn’t even met Boyd or Cora, there’s no way you could have formed,” Derek groans as a fresh wave of panic comes through the bond, “it’s fucking Stiles, okay, I know what he feels like.”

“No, it is, it is,” Scott is rambling, “I don’t know how this whole bond thing works, but I can feel that it’s Stiles.”

“I met Stiles,” Boyd offers.

“What?”

“I met Stiles, when we went to his house. Remember?”

Something crosses Derek’s face, no doubt recalling his betas coming home reeking of Stiles… almost as if they’d been scenting him.

“Damnit. Damnit!.”

Derek storms off towards the house, to do what is anyone’s guess.

“What do I do?” Scott whines mournfully, “he won’t pick up his phone.”

“Maybe he’s in class,” Erica says soothingly, “maybe he’s taking a really hard test and this is just test anxiety.”

Erica must know as well as Boyd does that test anxiety wouldn’t come through the pack bond, not like this. Not from thousands of miles away, not when any bonds they’d formed would still be new and weak. He doesn’t say anything though, because it’s plain that she’s trying to calm Scott down.

Scott starts scrolling through his contacts before he finds the number he is looking for, and the line is ringing again.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Deaton sir? Is Stiles okay?”

“I’m sorry, who’s calling?”

“It’s Scott, um, we felt Stiles panic through the pack bond thing and can you check on him please?”

“And why would you have a pack bond with Mr. Stilinksi, Mr. McCall?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how all of the magic stuff works! I just do! Can you check on him?!” He’s screaming down the phone.

Boyd can hear the man on the other side sigh deeply as he starts tapping on a keyboard.

“Mr. Stilinski should have just left class, and he’s perfectly safe while on campus, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Please, please can you just find him?”

“I will send someone out to look for him and have him call you. If you don’t mind, I’m very busy”

“Thank you, thank you Mr. Deaton,” Scott cries, and Boyd hears the phone click off.

Boyd looks up as the door to their building crashes back open and Derek comes stomping out, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Scott scrambles over to him as he wrenches the door to the Camaro open.

“Where are you going? Stiles is in trouble, you can’t just leave.” Scott is losing control, his eyes glow gold and his claws are lengthening.

“I know. I’m going to Virginia.”

“I’m coming with!”

Derek slides into the car, ignoring him.

“I’m coming with, or I’m getting on a plane and coming on my own! You can’t stop me!”

“Get in.”

Boyd looks at Erica, who widens her eyes at him in question. Isaac is already loping across the yard towards the car.

“You won’t all fit,” Derek growls, clearly impatient to get going.

“You’re not leaving us,” Erica snarls, shoving Isaac into the backseat.

“Someone has to stay. It’s not safe to leave the territory unguarded. It makes us look weak, vulnerable.”

“So we’ll call Cora from the road. She’ll deal. She can’t be a drifter all the time.”

“Just get in!”

They all settle into the car, knees and elbows already knocking together, ready for the longest road trip ever.

Chapter Text

Stiles eyes blink open slowly, the world tilting on its axis. His head is pounding and his mouth is dry, and he’s pretty sure he’s about to throw up. Deja vu.

“Oh good. He’s awake.” He hears a voice say to his left.

He tries to move his head to look for it, but it makes the sky spin more, so he stops.

The last thing he remembers he was walking out of class with Danny’s things. He’d never come back to class after being called out and Stiles figured he could do with some brownie points, so he’d grabbed his bag and books and added them to his own things.

Then he’d… this is a bit fuzzier, he’d… he’d walked out onto the sidewalk, and he’d heard something in the woods behind the building. Then he’d walked over? Yes. Like a white girl in a horror movie he’d walked over to investigate the strange noise and then pain and panic… then another blow and then... darkness. Had he been kidnapped?

“You can do a pain rune,” a voice to his right says, and it sounds the same as the voice from before. Someone moving?

“It’s a lie that you can’t do runes while you’re injured.”

The voice is on the left now. He hadn’t heard anyone move, though. Does he have a concussion?

“Another way to control you.” Right.

“Keep you weak.” Left.

“Docile.” Right.

Stiles clenches his eyes shut and slowly moves his head to the left. It’s the man from the club, the one who’d been fighting with Danny.

“I know you,” he gasps out, “what do you want?”

This was maybe not the brightest idea, letting his kidnapper know he could pick him out of a lineup. He hadn’t been blindfolded, though, so the odds of him getting out of this alive were already pretty slim.

“You don’t.”

“You know me.”

He’s staring right at him, but his voice is coming from behind him. Wincing, he turns again, and it’s like he has double vision, except… not.

“Am I hallucinating?”

“The pain rune, Stiles.”

“S’not safe.”

“Just do it, you idiot.”

Stiles goes back to staring at the sky. He feels his body for injuries, but it seems like it’s just his pounding head, and some aches from lying on the hard ground. Maybe a concussion. He closes his eyes and focuses on his spark then gasps.

“Something is pulling on my spark,” he wheezes, “feeding off it, something’s wrong.”

“Calm down.”

“Breathe.”

“Okay, the Bobbsey twins act is not helping, can we just pick one of you to talk?”

“Who the fuck are the Bobbsey twins.”

“The pain rune, Stiles.”

Stiles groans, the volume making his head pound even more.

“The wards are feeding off of your spark, it’s not hurting anything.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Do the pain rune.”

“Oh my god you’re annoying, can you at least sit together so I’m not getting douchebag in surround sound?”

“Are you sure we can’t kill him.”

“Shut up. Do the pain rune Stiles, you’re useless until you do.”

“I’m dead if I do.”

“Please. What good would an emissary be if they couldn’t use their magic when injured?”

“A smart one?”

“They tell you that so you have to rely on them, so you don’t learn to fend for yourself.”

“So they can keep you in line.”

“So they can sell you off to a pack and you can keep them in line.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly creepy?”

The boy on the right, the one he knows, growls, and stomps away.

“Just do a small one, Stiles. I’m sure you’ve slipped and done a rune before when you were overtired or sick, maybe had a headache?”

Stiles thinks, and yeah, that’s true. He’s tried to find the limit before, scared of going overboard and hurting himself but also needing an extra hour of focus to study or a calm rune to get him through a test even though he was sick. Maybe a small rune would be okay, might be worth it just to shut them up.

He concentrates on his spark, tries to get a feel for it, but with the wards tugging at it he can’t get a good handle on it. Wincing, he tries to sit up, but stops when his stomach threatens to empty itself all over his hoodie. Instead he brings his right hand up and traces the pain rune as quickly as he can onto his left, focusing on not putting too much magic into it. The throbbing in his head eases a little.

“Another, you still smell like pain.”

“I’m fine.”

“Another.”

Stiles sighs and does as he’s asked, just another small rune, and then when prompted, two more, until the pain is gone and he can sit up.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

The other boy stomps back over.

“We want you to help us get Danny back, becase you got him fucking captured by the council.”

“I did what now?”

“Ethan, calm down.”

“Ethan? You’re Danny’s boyfriend! Wait, what happened to Danny?”

“Deaton’s goons took him because you ran your fucking mouth.”

“Um, A. I don’t think Deaton has goons, and B. I didn’t run my mouth about anything.”

“Right. So they just figured it out, all of a sudden, after months of us running under the radar.”

“Figured what out?”

Ethan makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat before walking away again.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but Danny is fine. I just saw him in class.”

“Then why do you have his things?”

“Well, he left them when he got called into Deaton’s office. I was going to take them to him.”

“He’s an idiot, we can’t use an idiot.”

“Ethan. Chill.”

“I can go get him if you want?”

“You won’t find him,” the nameless twin says gently. “The council has him now. They’ll keep him until he’s rolled over on us, or they’ve reconditioned him, and by then he’ll want to, so... it’s all the same.”

“Reconditioned? What is this, a bad YA novel?”

“Or they’ll kill him. You know he won’t turn on us, they’ll have to kill him.”

“They’re not going to kill him.”

Ethan’s brother comes over and puts his forehead against his twins. He rubs his shoulders, trying to calm him.

“Look, this is all very touching and everything, but I need to get to class.”

“You can’t. I’m sorry, you can’t go back until you help us strengthen the wards, because they’ll be looking for us now.”

“Uh, look, Ethan’s brother? Doppleganger? Golum?”

“Aiden.”

“Aiden. I don’t know a lot about wards, and I don’t know you, so I’m just gonna…”

Stiles walks back in the direction he thinks the school is in, and is stopped suddenly for no reason. He tries to take another step forward, and he’s stopped again.

“What the fuck?”

“Right. Sorry. The wards can’t let you go until they’re up again, they need your magic and Danny made it like a failsafe. If a druid ever did find us, they’d be trapped long enough for us to get away. Look, we have…” Aiden turns around and starts digging through a duffle bag, “we have books. Everything you should need is in here.”

Stiles eyes him warily, before taking the top book from the pile.

“This is… this is amazing. So detailed! Where did you get this?” He flips through the pages quickly, taking in all of the warding runes and rituals, more between the pages of the book than in all the textbooks he’s had. “Look at this! It’s so obvious, if you elongate that line, why didn’t I ever think of that? And those two together?”

He continues rambling, flipping through the pages, captivity momentarily forgotten.

Chapter Text

“I can’t feel him anymore,” Scott whispers, as the other betas sleep fitfully in the backseat.

“I know.”

“Why? Does that mean he’s dead?”

“No. We’d feel it if he were dead.”

“Ok.”

Derek looks over as Scott leans back against his seat, chewing on his lip.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Right.”

He sends off another text message, probably the hundreth, but doesn’t relax.

“Scott. There’s nothing we can do right now. Not until we get there. Maybe not even then. If Stiles had his phone, he’d have answered by now. You’re not going to be any good to any of us if you’re exhausted when we get there.”

“Yeah, well neither will you. How about you let me drive for a bit?”

“You can drive if you get some sleep.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care.”

“We should have flown.”

“You wouldn’t have made it on a plane, Scott, we’ve been over this.”

“I can control it.”

“Well maybe I can’t.”

They sit in silence for a few more miles, Scott fiddling with the cord of the car charger.

“How is Stiles pack?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, but like, shouldn’t you?”

Derek swallows the irritation he feels at Scott’s needling. He’s obviously just as scared about Stiles as he is, and he’s his responsibility.

“I think… I think that you already had a strong connection to him when you joined the pack. And then you introduced him to the rest of the pack, who scented him, and created emotional bonds with him… and it’s possible it was all aggravated by our... “

“Your?”

Derek sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

“Our romantic relationship. More than likely I was making a pack bond with him before I added you to the pack, and then your connection added a little more umph, and then everyone else just sort of naturally accepted him because it was already there, and then… you know, magic, it does what it wants, it decided he was pack.”

“Does that mean he can come back with us? Since he’s pack.”

“I don’t know.”

“But isn’t it your decision.”

“It’s Stiles’ decision, too.”

“Well, yeah, but why wouldn’t he want to be a part of our pack? We’re awesome.”

Why indeed. Could he? Could he blame this all on Scott to the druids, and then ask to add Stiles to the pack as a solution? Could it be that easy? A sort of ask don’t tell arrangement?

Except he doesn’t know that he wants Stiles in his pack. He wants him, of course, in lots of other ways, but pack is forever. Especially if he makes him the Hale emissary. The bonds could still be broken now, severed before they’re whole. It would be so easy, though, to just accept him. It would be right, he can feel it in his chest in a way it never was with his tormentors.

He can imagine it, intertwining Stiles life with his own. He’d have time to let his walls down, time to learn to love him. What about Stiles, though? Could he live with them knowing that Derek might never be able to care about him the same way? To return his feelings in the same measure? When he’d felt Stiles in panic he’d wanted to trade places, to tear apart whatever was threatening him. Could that be enough? Or was protectiveness just a symptom of the pack bonds the boy had formed? He didn’t know. He didn’t trust himself.

“Earth to Derek.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Scott’s voice is sullen, he thinks if he looks over he’ll find him pouting.

“Take a nap, Scott, please. We’re not even halfway.”

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

Derek lets the road hypnotize him as the miles pass, letting the calm of his sleeping betas soothe him through the bond. First he’ll find Stiles and make sure he’s okay, and then he’ll have to make a decision.

Chapter Text

Stiles doesn’t want to relocate to the small cabin a few miles away from the clearing when the sun sets, but the twins don’t give him an option. The books have to stay, but he’ll be allowed to bring a notebook tomorrow to take his own notes, they promise. Those he can take with him.

Apparently Danny has made the small clearing the safest place for miles, from druids to werewolves and everything in between he could think of. If the twins hadn’t pulled Stiles in he’d never have been able to find it, they say. He’s not sure if he believes them, but after the hours of reading he’s done with the objectively awesome books he’s willing to suspend his belief for the time being.

Aiden explains that they’re on the run from their pack, an alpha pack, which sounds fake. Everything Stiles has ever been taught has told him that something like an alpha pack isn’t possible. Everyone knows you can’t have more than one alpha in a pack, it’s not safe, the magic won’t allow it, and if it did the wolves would end up tearing each other to pieces. They must sense his skepticism, so they “prove” it by both flashing red eyes at him. Which. Wow. Maybe twins are an exception to the rule?

Because he can’t believe everything they’re telling him, it all sounds like a giant conspiracy that comes preloaded with tin foil hats. The alpha pack is after them to either kill them or bring them back into the fold, and the druids are after them to steal their alpha power for themselves and to keep the existence of a pack of alpha werewolves on the downlow.

Oh, and it’s all Stiles’ fault that they’re on to them now because he told Deaton that Danny was dating an alpha. Which he hadn’t. On purpose. Because he hadn’t even known! But he had gone to Deaton and asked him what would happen hypothetically if his friend was dating an alpha werewolf, when Danny was his only friend. Whoops.

Stiles agrees to help them with their wards and be their prisoner until they figure out a way to get Danny back. This is mostly because the books they have are way better than anything he’s ever learned in class and a tiny bit because he’s worried about Danny. He also doesn’t love his chances if he were to make a run for it.

He doesn’t really believe that Deaton has some unsavory plan that includes brainwashing Danny, but he hasn’t come back to campus, so he can’t prove it. According to Aiden, at least. They let him have his phone back long enough to call Danny and ask him to call him back, but they dragged him into the woods first. He shoots off a text to Scott letting him know he’s alive and to please not worry his dad, he’ll call him when he’s free, at the same time. He doesn’t have time to read through the billion texts he’d sent.

Aiden points out that magic isn’t the only way to track a person, and turns off Stiles’ phone before leading him back to the cabin.

His days are spent taking copious amounts of notes on the books the twins give him, and practicing small bits of magic within the clearing. Aiden makes him wear his clothes to help weaken his pack bonds which Stiles tries to tell him he doesn’t have but he does it anyway.

Aiden is actually pretty cool, he lets Stiles experiment on him with runes that are better suited for weres, and isn’t bothered by his sarcastic sense of humor. Ethan is a bear, he’s always grumbling and complaining, pacing and seething. Stiles supposes if he thought his boyfriend was off somewhere being tortured he’d be cranky, too, but still. It’s not great.

On the plus side, with Ethan off brooding the twins are rarely together long enough to do their creepy twin-speak. He’d swear they rehearse it, but he hasn’t caught them at it. Aiden says that they’re bond is even stronger than a pack bond because they’re twins, and Stiles kindly doesn’t point out that they can’t be pack if they’re both alphas.

He’s starting to wonder about that, though. They bicker, sure, but there’s none of the bloodshed his classes warned him about with two alphas under the same roof. He’s also found that his spark is much more resilient than he’d been led to believe. He can use his spark while he’s injured, he can use it when he’s tired, he can use it any time he can think of, and it never snaps back and hurts him like he was warned.

Aiden makes him run through the woods with him for part of every day, and Stiles has to use his magic while they do. He makes sure to run Stiles close to the school, so if any of the druids do suspect his involvement they’ll be able to sense that he’s still nearby. The hope is that they’ll just assume Stiles is out gathering ingredients or taking a sort of sabbatical.

This is also how Stiles learns about erasing a trail. He’d never known his magic left one, not until the twins. Now he’s learning to see the trails, and to hide the ones he doesn’t want found. They’re careful not to just remove those leading to the clearing and cabin, basically painting giant targets on them. Instead he eliminates most paths that lead anywhere deeper into the trees, leaving nice crisscrosses around the school, sometimes heading towards a small waterfall where he’s visited before to gather pillow moss. They consider setting up a tent nearby but Ethan decides it would just give the druids somewhere to watch and nixes the idea.

It’s not a bad life, he’s certainly learning more than he did in his classes, and he’s started toying with making his own runes, something he would never have dared try before. He can sense a giant ward around the campus that he couldn’t feel before, that looks as though it’s draining the power of the sparks within.

He reasons it away as best he can, if the youngest sparks inside were to go too wild with their magic they might hurt themselves or someone else, he tells himself. The ward makes sense. Maybe. He wonders what it protects against, but there are still pieces of it he can’t decipher. Whenever they run near it he makes a note of the pieces he doesn’t understand, spending some of his time each day trying to put it together.

It’s a week before he turns his phone on again.

Chapter Text

“I’m not going home,” Scott says petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Derek sighs, running a tired hand through his hair. They’ve been up too long, been at this too long.

“He said he was fine, Scott, maybe it’s time we just trusted that.”

“No. If he was fine he’d be answering his phone. If he was fine we’d be able to find him!”

Scott’s eyes glow gold and he clenches his fists, no doubt hiding his inability to control his shift. Just another thing on a long list to worry about.

“We can’t find him because the druids have asked us to stay off campus, which is reasonable Scott, we don’t have any business there, and no doubt they’re worried about having a new beta stomping around.” Derek tries to sound calm, to placate Scott, but he’s not having it.

“Then we stay off campus! Isaac says he could smell him in the woods, anyway!”

“Did you smell him?”

“No, but.”

“And shouldn’t you be able to sense Scott better than all of us?”

“I mean, maybe but.”

“And didn’t Stiles message you telling you he was okay?”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Scott bursts out, tired of being cut off. “You said yourself I don’t have enough control yet, I don’t know how to… to figure out what’s a Stiles smell or a squirrel smell!”

Derek raises an eyebrow in silent judgement while Scott seethes.

“Would it make you feel better if we went through the woods again?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really Scott. I can’t exactly leave you here and I don’t think Isaac will let me knock you out for the whole trip home, so let's check the woods.”

“Awesome. Okay, let me just grab my phone and we can go.”

“Your phone?”

“Yeah, in case there’s an emergency or whatever.”

“You’re a werewolf, what emergency do you think you’re going to face in the woods that you can’t handle? Bigfoot?”

Scott blushes, but grabs his phone anyway.

Stiles runs, lungs burning, and throws a mix of mountain ash and ground zingiber over his shoulder and takes a sharp left. His bare feet sting as they slap against the forest floor, but he ignores it as he puts on more speed. He hears a noise to his right and he jumps, grabbing a low branch, using it to help him move to the left without losing his momentum.

He ducks as he hears a shuffling sound, and watches as the were leaps over where his head just was. He uses the extra few seconds to pull at the ground beneath him with his spark, pulling as much of the wood and rock that litters the ground as he can, then tossing it together. The earth, nature, whatever, it’s like it’s waiting for him to ask. He smirks as he hears his pursuer grunt and trip.

The tree he’s aiming for is so close. If he can just make it there… he lets out an “oomph” as he’s shoved to the ground, pain momentarily arcing through his body, as the were pins his arms above his head.

Derek ventures a bit further into the woods, trying and failing to enjoy the warm sunshine. Nothing is really enjoyable lately, not after he felt Stiles’ through the pack bond, maybe even longer. Scott has run off, swearing that he’d sensed his friend nearby. Derek had let him go, confident that if he’d actually found him he’d have felt it, too.

The longer Stiles is missing the more conflicted he becomes. He waffles between the desperation wanting to find him and bring him home where he’ll be able to see to his safety himself and annoyance that he’s gone missing at all, and may be avoiding them purposefully.

He hasn’t called or texted him, leaving it up to his pack, and he wonders if it would make a difference. Would Stiles be more likely to respond to him after the long period of radio silence? Is it taking advantage to contact him knowing that Stiles will read into it, think that it means more than it does?

Does it have to mean less? It’s all too muddled. Scott isn’t going to let them go home until he sees him with his own eyes, though. Derek just wants to go home, wants to start putting his life back together. If Stiles were hurt or in trouble they’d be able to sense it, so clearly he’s just ignoring them. It’s a clear enough signal. Of course a small part of him is as worried as Scott, that somehow Stiles is being shielded from them, that he’s hurt and that he’s waiting for Derek to find him. He does his best to ignore that part.

Sighing he pulls out his phone. It’s time, consequences be damned. First he tries calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. Derek is pretty sure this mean the phone is off. Erica would know. Next he sends a text, a small one, just an “are you okay?”, nothing effusive, nothing for Stiles to read into. He puts the phone back in his pocket so he’s not checking it every few seconds.

A branch snaps further in the trees, it’s a small sound coming from far away, probably just an animal, but he goes to investigate just the same. Soon he hears the sound of running feet, but he can’t smell anything, it’s the strangest thing. Is it some kind of supernatural creature that can hide it’s scent? Some kind of spellwork?

Without really thinking about it, he climbs a tall tree to his right. The trees in Virginia are intimidatingly tall, they remind him of sky scrapers the way they reach into the sky. Twenty feet up he can make out two shapes running through the woods, it looks as if someone is being chased. Derek eyes the next tree over before jumping over.

As he gets closer he can hear the frantic breathes of the man who’s being pursued, the rabbit fast heartbeat, even though he’s much too far to make out such details. A feeling of horror dawns on him as he leaps over a fallen log, his movements as familiar to Derek as his own.

Without thinking he’s trailing after the pair, trying to catch up and find a way to jump down between the two. To protect Stiles at all costs. He stares in wonder as Stiles looks over his shoulder and suddenly it’s as though the forest floor as come alive, blocking his chaser who trips and falls.

Derek is still too far, he’ll never make it in time.

Chapter Text

Stiles gulps in giant breaths of air as Aiden pins him to the ground, smiling goofily down at him. Stiles gasps, peals of laughter reverberating against the trees.

“I almost made it,” Stiles pants around his laughter.

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

Stiles shoves at Aiden, pushing him off so he can start to sit up.

“Oh I’ll do alright, give me another week and you’ll be eating my dust.”

“Getting cocky there, little spark.” Aiden says, smiling as he pops to his feet, offering Stiles a hand up.

“Oh there’s nothing little about me,” Stiles fires back.

Aiden groans, pushing Stiles back to the ground where he rolls around and laughs. He stays on the ground for a minute, staring up at the sky, sighing contentedly.

“It’s really pretty out here.”

“Uh huh. Stop stalling.”

“I’m not stalling!” Stiles protest, climbing to his feet.

He quickly sketches a rune on his arm to take away the lingering aches and pangs from their chase before sprinting towards his tree. He scurries up, settling on a branch twelve or so feet off the ground, his feet dangling in the air.

Aiden does a running jump, his fingers just reaching the bottom of Stiles feet.

“Knock it off!” Stiles shouts, leaning against the trunk. “Alright, I’m turning it on now,” he calls down.

“Uh huh, five minutes.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, turning on his phone. He thought he’d miss it more, and he had, at first. His phone had been like an appendage when they’d first taken it away. He’d pat down his pants for it without thinking, wanting to pull it out to check the time, or to switch mindlessly between apps out of boredom. The feeling had faded eventually, mostly.

Stiles groans as his screen fills with notifications.

“Still Scott?”

“Like a billion.”

“Why don’t you just call him?”

“Because he has a built in lie detector now?”

Aiden shrugs, jumping up and hanging off a lower branch.

Stiles looks back at his phone and stills.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Creepy.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek… he uh, messaged me.”

“What’s it say?”

“‘Are you okay?’” Stiles reads off the screen.

“Well, text him and tell him you’re okay.”

Stiles groans, knocking his head against the trunk of the tree in frustration.

“What’s he care?” Stiles whines, staring down at the message.

“I don’t get how you still don’t believe us, he’s clearly made a mating bond with you.”

“I’m never going to believe you, Derek wouldn’t do that.”

“Just like you didn’t make a pack bond with his pack?”

“I didn’t!”

“Uh huh.”

“I… am… fine,” Stiles reads off as he types. “There.”

“That’s no way to get rid of a mating bond.”

“Well that’s good, because I don’t have one.”

“Man, the way you talk about him makes it sound like you guys are capital M mates, I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to believe that he lower case m, mated you.”

“You know that makes no sense, right?” Stiles says, as he types out another message to Scott telling him he’s fine.

“You know, like soul mates,” Aiden says, doing a pull up on the branch.

“Show off.” Stiles scoffs, speed reading through as many of his messages as he can. “Soul mates aren’t real.”

“They are for wolves.”

“Fairy tales.”

“Uh huh. Well, do you want to be mated to Derek?”

“I’m not.”

Stiles can practically hear Aiden roll his eyes as he pulls himself up to the branch beneath him.

“I didn’t ask if you were, I asked if you wanted to be. See the difference?”

“Fuck off.”

“One minute.”

Stiles sends another message to his dad letting him know he’ll be out of range for awhile longer and not to worry.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, does it? If he refuses to be in the same state as me, let alone the same pack?”

“Well, if he wanted you as a mate, would you want to be his mate?”

“What’s with the hypotheticals, riddler?” Stiles turns off the phone and hands it back.

“I just think you should really think it through. I mean, it’d be better for us if you weren’t mates, but it’s not something to take lightly.” Aiden pockets the phone, walking away as Stiles tries to climb back down without maiming himself.

“I don’t know,” Stiles pants, dropping to the ground. “I mean, I thought…”

“You thought?”

“I thought that if I could just love him enough for both of us, it would be okay, we could make it work, but…”

Aiden sighs as Stiles trails off again, bumping their shoulders together.

“Race you to the waterfall?”

“Not a chance, you thought you could make it work, but?”

“The last time I saw him it was like he hated how much he wanted me, and yeah, it was nice to know he still did, that it wasn’t all just in my head, but his face. It was like he was disgusted with himself for,” Stiles gestures at himself as he walks, “wanting me.”

“Here’s the thing.” Aiden says, catching up to Stiles’ long strides. “You see that bruise on your neck that just won’t seem to heal? It’s not healing because it’s a mating bite. I’m telling you this because if you didn’t want to be his mate, it would be fading, and if he didn’t want to be your mate, it’d be gone by now. Now normally I wouldn’t care, pine after the asshole who’s just going to break your heart, it happens everyday, but your using a lot of magic to stay connected to his pack, and to maintaining the start of the mating process. If you could just let go, you’d be able to do so much more, faster.”

Stiles rubs the mark on his neck, grimacing.

“Don’t werewolves mate for life?”

“Eh, that’s some Hallmark bullshit. I mean if you finished the ritual together, both aware and you want to be mated your magic will do quite a lot to keep you together, even a human would be slightly affected, but it’s just like an itch under your skin almost, where you think about him all the time, and you want to be near him, and you feel a little ill when you’re apart for too long, especially in the beginning, but no, it’s not like a death sentence, you can break up.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Stiles argues, “when we talked about mating bonds it was all about how serious it is, and how it’s more permanent than marriage, and that we should avoid it at all costs because there’s no backing out.”

“Does anything you’ve learned about your magic make you feel like it would ever make you do something you didn’t want to do, forever?”

“Well, no, but it’s not like I’m out here casting for werewolf marriage, either.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not permanent yet, or as permanent as it could be, if you wanted to dissolve it before it gets out of hand, I’d help.”

“Aww, aren’t you a star.” Stiles pats his arm, skirting a fallen branch.

The noise of the waterfall reaches his ears, saving him from more awkward conversation. As he starts to climb the small embankment to get to the water, Aiden throws his arm out, stopping Stiles in his tracks, putting a finger to his mouth.

Chapter Text

Stiles’ laughter rings through the air, stopping Derek in his tracks. He’s too far away to hear what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s not in any danger. Derek feels his claws tear into the wood of the tree he’s sitting in as the man who’d been chasing him brackets him with his arms, and Stiles doesn’t push him off at first. When he does, it seems playful instead of angry. Derek moves closer as Stiles lets the man shove him back to the ground where he starts laughing again. As he gets closer he can make out the other man, and he realizes he recognizes him as the alpha wolf from the club.

Derek fights off a growl, not wanting them to hear him approach. He stops when he's near enough to hear them talking.

“I’m turning it on now!” Stiles calls down from the tree he’s climbed.

If he turned and looked to his left he’d be able to see Derek, but he doesn’t. Derek still can’t smell him, either of them, and it’s disorienting. He perks up when he hears his name. Stiles is reading his text message, which means his phone is on.

Derek pulls his own phone out to check that it’s still on silent and watches as Stiles’ reply pops up on his screen. Well, at least he knows he’s not hallucinating. His brain would never be creative enough for this.

The other wolf is telling Stiles that Derek has mated him, which is absurd. He’s happy when Stiles says basically that, defending him. Derek doesn’t even know how to mate someone, he was too young when his mom handed down the pack to him, however unintentionally, and by then it was pretty clear that he was shit at relationships. So no one bothered. He knows the basics, of course, the mating bite, the rituals involved, but none of the specifics. He was always very careful not to bite Stiles on his neck, no matter how he bared it, and he certainly never did it with an intent to keep the man. He’s not an idiot.

They’re walking away now, and Derek wonders if he should follow. He feels a small pang of guilt as Stiles admits that he thought he could love enough for both of them. This is exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. It’s not Stiles’ fault he can’t love properly.

“Race you to the waterfall.”

Sighing, Derek turns away, and stops listening. He pulls out his phone to send a quick message before heading back to his hotel. Stiles is obviously fine, he doesn’t need Derek here messing up whatever he has going on with this new alpha.

Chapter Text

“Stiles?”

“Scott?”

“Stiles! Where have you been! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks! We were so worried! Deaton wouldn’t tell us anything, and you weren’t answering our texts, are you okay? Who’s this?”

“Wait, hold on, no, Aiden, it’s fine,” Stiles put a hand on his arm to calm him before turning back to his friend, “what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Why did I have to find you?!”

“It’s complicated!”

Scott throws his hands in the air in frustration before stomping towards his friend, Aiden instantly throws himself between them, though, growling.

“Are you kidding me? Move!” Stiles shoves at Aiden’s shoulder.

Aiden flashes red eyes and doesn’t back down.

“Okay there killer, it’s fine, this is Scott, he’s part of the pack you keep saying I have bonds with.”

“You do! We felt it through the bond! Are you okay? What happened?”

Stiles shoves at Aiden until he moves enough for him to make eye contact with Scott.

“There was a misunderstanding. Aiden here needed my help with some magic stuff is all, I told you I was fine. Do we really have a pack bond?”

Scott grins at him dopily, ire momentarily forgotten.

“Yeah dude, it was so cool! Like, I mean, it was scary, because we all felt you panic? But still, I could feel you! All the way from Beacon Hills!”

“You’re from Beacon Hills?” Aiden interjects.

“Soo not the point,” Stiles rolls his eyes, “you what, followed the bond to me?”

“Well no, I don’t actually know how it works, but we knew you were here, so we came here to look for you!”

“Who’s we?”

“The pack!”

“The pack as in?”

“Me, Isaac, Erica and Boyd.”

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh, and Derek, obviously. He’s the one who told me you’d be by the waterfall. Did you see him?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Derek told you I’d be at the waterfall?”

“Stiles, we have to go.”

“Hold on.”

“No, now Stiles.”

“What’s going on Stiles, is he threatening you?”

“What? No. Go home Scott, I’ll text you when I can, stop it!” The last he says to Aiden who’s tugging at him, pulling him backwards.

“We have to go now, Stiles.”

“What is your problem?!”

“It’s not safe, I’ll explain at home.”

“Home? Are you living with this guy?”

“Scott, I’m fine, I’m whole and uninjured, and I’m sorry that I made some weird accidental pack bond with you guys without…” Stiles flaps his free hand, “permission, or whatever, and if you want I can figure out how to undo it later but right now I’ve got a weirdly upset werewolf to deal with, so can you just go home?”

Scott is nodding, but instead of leaving he’s following as Aiden pulls Stiles along behind him. Which is kind of the opposite of what Stiles asked.

“But Derek said you could come home with us, since you’re pack now!”

Stiles stops dead, Aiden keeps tugging at him, but he uses his spark to make himself much harder to move.

“He said that? That he wants me to join the pack?”

Aiden growls low and fierce behind him, clearly frustrated that he can’t make Stiles budge. He falls into a defensive position, eyeing the trees warily.

“Well, he said since you made a pack bond that the druids would let you, but that it was up to you.”

Stiles is stunned into silence. Derek wants him to join the pack? Derek came to find him, and he brought his pack with him, to rescue him, and he wants him to come with him? As what? A magical beta? Emissary? Mate? He feels a bit giddier about that than he probably should.

“I…” Can’t leave, Stiles realizes. He can’t go right now with Derek to California, home to his dad and to a pack that could be a real family. Not with Danny still missing, not when the twins would be unprotected without him. “I’ll call you,” he finishes lamely, letting go of the ground so Aiden can pull him again.

Scott stares after him, confused.

“Why can’t I smell you? Where are you going? Do you need me to get a teacher? Deaton?”

“No! Leave the druids out of this!” Stiles shouts it as he starts to run alongside Aiden.

He’s happy to hear the little satchels he’s made for them really hides their scents. Ethan and Aiden had both confirmed it, but still, it’s nice to have an outside source. He thinks about this instead of his knee jerk reaction to Scott going to Deaton. He can’t process that somehow, on some level, he’s started to believe that the druids are the enemy.

“I promise I’ll call, okay!” Stiles tries to run faster, but Scott keeps pace with them, clearly unwilling to let Stiles out of his sight now that he’s found him.

He grapples with his choices, he can force Scott to stay behind with his magic, or he can bring him with. He personally would trust Scott with his life, but will the twins feel the same way? Not only that, but he’s leaving a scent trail a mile wide, if he follows them too long it’ll be like pointing a giant arrow screaming “hideout this way”.

Swiftly he pulls off the satchel around his neck and tosses it at Scott before sketching a rune on his arm to hide his scent. It’s not going to be as effective as the satchel but it’ll have to do. Scott stares at it in his hand while he runs until Stiles shouts at him to wear it.

This will be fun, he thinks sarcastically.

Chapter Text

Scott is confused as to why they’re running. He’s just found Stiles and now he’s sprinting in the opposite direction and telling him to leave. Scott is not at all convinced that Stiles doesn’t need saving. He doesn’t like that they’re hiding their scents, though he can make Stiles’ out a bit more without the necklace pouch thing he threw at him. He also doesn’t like that he doesn’t know this Aiden guy, who seems to be making Stiles do things he doesn’t want to.

It’s clear that they don’t want him to follow them, so that’s what he does. He doesn’t like that this guy told Stiles they had to go ‘home’. Is he dating him? What about Derek? Is this a weird sex thing? Does Stiles just have a thing for alphas?

Scott’s mind runs a million miles an hour as they sprint through the trees. If Stiles is in trouble he needs to get help and rescue him, and to do that he needs to know where this “home” is, so they can come back, guns blazing. Or claws out, as the case may be.

If Stiles isn’t in trouble than he owes everyone an explanation for why he went off the grid. It had better be a good one, too. They’d driven across the country to check on him! Where does he get off avoiding them now that they’ve found him?

Scott has worked himself into a fine fit of righteous indignation when he feels like he’s slammed into a wall. One minute, Stiles and Aiden are in front of him, the next they’re just… gone. Scott growls low in his throat, scanning the woods around him. Did they fall? Did they jump? Is this another kind of magic, like the one that hid their scents?

A moment later Aiden is tugging him, hard, into a clearing that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Wha?” Scott says, wrenching his arm back. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Right, so, sorry about this. I didn’t actually ask if it was okay to bring you with, um,” Stiles is shooting looks between him and Aiden, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “but it didn’t look like you were going to leave, so?”

“So you just thought you’d bring him along?” Aiden finishes, rolling his eyes.

“What was I supposed to do? If I hadn’t given him a satchel his scent would have left a giant trail, and there was no way we were going to outrun him with my skinny human legs!”

“Uh, guys?” Scott interrupts, “where are we?”

“Narnia,” Stiles snarks, sitting on the ground.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and his scent comes back full force. He smells… calm?

“Are you okay?” Scott tries again.

“I told you I was fine, I’m just helping Aiden and his brother with something, and they’re helping me with my magic. It’s not a big deal, we just don’t want anyone finding us right now, so you know, no cell phones or whatever.”

“Right... “ Scott doesn’t feel reassured.

If they’re just doing something harmless, why are they hiding? Stiles’ heart is steady, but Scott knows from experience that he’s better than at most at lying by hedging.

“While we’ve got you here,” Aiden says, smirking at Stiles, “can you tell this idiot that he does, in fact, have a pack bond with your pack and a mating bond with your alpha?”

“You what?!”

“I do not!”

Aiden groans loudly, pacing around Stiles.

“Ok, first. You admit that you can feel Stiles through your pack bond, right?”

“Right?” Scott says uncertainly.

“And you said that there was no way that you’d made an accidental bond to his pack, right?”

Stiles closes his eyes like he’s meditating and doesn’t answer the pacing wolf.

“You see the bite on his neck, right? I’m not just hallucinating it?”

Scott looks where he’s pointing, and sure enough, there’s a bite mark peeking over the top of the collar of Stiles’ t-shirt.

“Holy shit, you mated with someone?”

“Gaaaah,” Aiden shouts in frustration, “obviously it was your alpha who mated him!”

Clearly he and Stiles have been spending too much time together.

“No, that can’t be right, I was with Derek the last time he saw Stiles, and there was no mating mark, you must have it wrong.”

Stiles squirms uneasily on the ground, but doesn’t correct him.

“Besides, Stiles would tell me if he was going to mate someone!”

“Exactly!” Stiles says from the ground, before closing his eyes again.

“Wait, didn’t you meet some guy in a club? Was he a werewolf? Is that why you needed Isaac’s scarf advice?”

“There’s another werewolf?” Aiden asks, incredulously.

“No.” Stiles says, doing his best toddler impression, as if he can’t see them they can’t see him.

“Yeah you did, remember? Here, I still have the messages,” Scott pulls out his phone to open it, and Aiden snatches it away, turning it off.

“Seriously? Seriously?! Why did you bring this guy back with you?”

“Did it look to you like he was going to leave?”

“Hi, still here,” Scott says, eyeing his phone, wondering if he can make a grab for it.

“Scott,” Stiles says, looking him in the eye, “I’m fine, can you see that I’m fine? No one is holding me hostage, no one is hurting me, I’m just ya know, doing some research that’s a little more practical and a little less theoretical. You can go home. I promise to call you as soon as I can, and if we still have a pack bond, and your pack still wants me, we’ll be together then, okay?”

“So you’ll join the pack? Really?”

“Yes. Really. But only if I can finish what I’m doing here, first. It’s important.”

“How is it more important than joining a pack? This is what you’ve worked your whole life for!”

Scott is getting upset now, it doesn’t make any sense. The Stiles he left wouldn’t have hesitated for a second about joining a pack that wanted him. Something is definitely going on. Stiles must read something on his face because he’s sighing and then he and Aiden are communicating via facial expressions. That’s their thing, they talk without words, who is this guy?!

“So, I’m really sorry about this.” Stiles says, and then Aiden is shoving him backwards.

Scott falls to the ground, startled and then angry. His phone is on the ground next to him, and Stiles is… gone?

Chapter Text

“You could have been a little more gentle there, big guy.”

“You said you wanted him gone!”

“I didn’t say anything, but yes, I had come to the very obvious conclusion that he wasn’t leaving on his own. So thank you.” Stiles concedes before adding, “But you could have been a little more gentle.”

“Whatever. We need to talk about Beacon Hills.”

“What about Beacon Hills?”

“That’s where your alpha is from?”

“Yeeees?”

“And your alpha is a Hale?”

“Mmm, a hell of a Hale.” Stiles takes a moment to appreciate the hotness of Derek Hale in his mind before snapping back to attention, “Wait, why?”

Aiden sighs deeply, sitting on a tree trunk.

“When we left the alpha pack, when we ran, they were headed to Beacon Hills, something about an unstable alpha out there, from the Hale pack, an offshoot or something. Deucalion thought that the alpha would make a good addition, and if not, I guess there’s a beta in the pack who’s bitter about being passed over twice he was pretty sure he could persuade.”

“The creepy uncle?” Stiles knew he didn’t like that guy.

Aiden shrugs, “he hadn’t given us any specifics yet, we were headed that way when Ethan and I made a run for it. They chased us for awhile, so we risked getting closer to the druids, because Deucalion is terrified of them. I mean, he should be, they’re just as likely to kill us as he is, but we took what we could get.” Aiden shuffles his feet in the dirt, not looking at Stiles, “Then Ethan met Danny, and he helped us set up this ward so we’d have somewhere to stay while he worked on the one on the cabin. Buildings are harder, I guess? Anyway, if that’s your alpha, he may not be around for much longer.”

“How… why didn’t you tell me sooner??”

“I didn’t know your alpha was that alpha.” Aiden said irritably, “I mean, maybe you mentioned California, I’m not sure, but you never said Beacon Hills, that’s why I was so surprised when your friend did.”

“We have to warn them, we have to help them! Why didn’t you Scott!”

“I don’t know him, I don’t know if I can trust him, I’m still trying to trust you!”

Stiles strides towards where they ejected Scott and hits the ward barrier. He groans in frustration, the ward pulling more energy from him, and keeping him trapped. He’s almost positive he could dismantle and rebuild it, but not sure enough to risk all of their lives over it.

“Give me my phone.” Stiles keeps his voice steady, calm.

“I can’t. You know I can’t. Once the ward is recharged I promise we’ll head back out and you can call him.” Aiden’s tone is pleading as Stiles advances on him.

“I have to warn them,” Stiles shouts, flitting through possible spells and runes to corner the wolf. “I’ll just call him for a minute, no one will trace it!”

A look of panic flashes across Aiden’s face, no doubt thinking of all the magic they’ve provided him with through Danny’s stash of books, before he’s diving outside of the wards himself.

Chapter Text

Derek has gathered the rest of the pack back to the hotel when Scott storms in. He’s seething, anger rolling off him in waves which is only made slightly less intimidating by the twig sticking out of the back of his hair.

“Scott? What’s the matter?” Erica hurries over, plucking the twig out.

“Stiles is fine,” he snarls, slamming the door behind him. “He wants us to go home.”

“Where was he? What happened?” Isaac asks from the couch.

“The woods,” Scott bats at the air like it’s not important. “He’s out there with some other wolf, practicing magic, he says. And he’s got a mating mark!” Scott spins to stare accusingly at Derek.

Everyone turns to look at him, and he freezes.

“Um. I didn’t bite Stiles.” Derek says, the obviously implied.

“Must’ve been that guy from the club. But to mate someone on a first date? Damn,” Erica whistles appreciatively.

“No wonder he needed a scarf,” Isaac adds helpfully.

Derek thinks he might black out. The club. He was the wolf in the club. He hadn’t bitten Stiles, though, had he? He tries to go back, remember the press of the bodies inside, and the night air outside. They’d kissed, sure… and Stiles had bared his neck like he always did, like he was begging for someone to rip his throat out, the idiot. Had he bitten him? Was the other wolf right? Had they begun the mating ritual, or rather, had he begun it? It wouldn’t have worked if Stiles didn’t want it, too, though. Did this mean Stiles wanted to be his mate?

Wait. Not the point.

“I was the wolf in the club,” he croaks out.

“What?” Scott exclaims.

“No you weren’t.” Isaac says definitively.

“You were… oh shit… he was gone then, wasn’t he?” Erica breathes.

Boyd just raises an eyebrow.

“What did you do??” she asks, awe at his stupidity in her voice.

“If it helps at all, he says that once he’s done here he’ll come join the pack,” Scott adds in, still looking a bit confused and thrown.

“He said that?” Derek can’t keep himself from asking.

“Oooh, you totally mated him. We’re getting a new mommy!” Erica crows.

Derek growls at her, but she just dances happily, ignoring him.

“Yeah, he said that he has to help this guy but when they’re done he’ll call us,” Scott screws up his face in concentration, “I don’t really know what it is they’re doing out there, though. They were in like, a magic circle.”

“A magic circle.” Derek deadpans.

“Yeah, like, it wasn’t there, and then it was, and then he pushed me out and it was gone again.”

“Who pushed you? Stiles?”

“No, um… Aiden. But Stiles told him to?” Scott shrugs, less angry now that he’s surrounded by pack. “He seemed really serious about being left alone.”

Derek growls at the thought of another alpha touching his beta. He instinctively rubs his hands against the back of Scott’s neck.

“Is he safe?” Isaac asks, coming over to add his own scent to Scott.

“He said he was but,” Scott chews his lip, “something felt off.”

“Can you lead us back to him?”

He should’ve confronted him in the forest. He’s such a coward. He’d just assumed that Stiles had realized what a bad idea he was and moved on.

Scott blushes red from embarrassment.

“I could get us… near there? The thing is…” Scott looks at his feet, “he handed me this,” he holds up a small satchel, “and it hides your scent? I didn’t realize I hadn’t taken it off until I was almost to the road. But I think I remember mostly where it was!” He finishes in a rush.

Derek takes the proffered charm, sniffing it. It doesn’t smell like anything at all. He slips it around his neck and his betas pale, so he takes it off again quickly.

“I think we should stay a few more days, just in case,” Derek says.

“Really?” Scott says, hope coloring his voice.

“Well there’s no point in heading home just to have to come rescue him again in a week,” Erica says scornfully.

Derek has to admit he agrees.

Chapter Text

By the time Stiles has gotten out of the ward he’s managed to fake the appearance of a cooler head. Truthfully, he’s ready to murder Aiden.

Aiden isn’t right outside of the ward when he gets out, so Stiles begins the trek to the tree they called from last. They usually like to set out out in different directions when they turn any of their phones on, to keep from giving anyone looking a place to camp out. Stiles thinks it’s a little bit paranoid, but goes along with it. However, since they haven't set up a meeting place, the most logical place is the most recent one.

Sure enough, Aiden is there, though he’s climbed much higher than Stiles had earlier in the day.

“Little wolf, little wolf, let me in,” Stiles calls softly from the base of the tree.

Aiden eyes him critically, but doesn’t immediately start his descent.

Which is just as well, Stiles could use a way to vent his frustration at the wolves in his life.

Concentrating on the ground beneath him, he lets his magic filter through to the roots of the tree, and then he smirks up at Aiden as the tree begins to shake.

“Ahh!” Aiden cries, clinging to the trunk. “Stop!”

“Drop my phone!”

“Stop first!”

Stiles shakes the tree harder, or rather, it’s like he asks the tree to shake harder. It seems to use very little magic to do things like this, with things that are alive in the forest. It gets easier everyday, Aiden would claim it’s because they’re forming a pack bond and they’ve made this temporarily their territory. Stiles would say he’s full of shit.

Aiden drops the phone and Stiles stumbles to catch it. He glares up at the wolf while the trunk does a few more good jerks and then turns it on.

He tries Scott’s phone first, but it goes straight to voicemail. No doubt he hasn’t turned it back on yet. He could call one of the other betas, they’ve texted enough lately that it wouldn’t be too weird, except… Except if it’s not Scott it should probably be the alpha. He knows that, he’s not stupid.

Part of him really wants to hear Derek’s voice again, even if it’s just to relay the awful news he has. Another part of him is terrified to call him. What if he doesn’t pick up. What if he picks up, and he doesn’t want to talk to Stiles? What if he’s cruel again? What if he asks him to come home with him now, can Stiles really tell him no?

“I can hear you thinking from up here,” Aiden calls, starting to slide down, “make a call or turn it off.”

Grumbling, Stiles pulls up Derek’s number. His contact image is still a small photo of Derek laying on his stomach in bed, his triskele tattoo plainly visible on his bare back, because Stiles is a creep and hasn’t deleted it yet.

The line rings twice before it’s picked up, but Derek is silent on the other end. Some things never change. Stiles clears his throat anxiously.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, um. Sorry to call, Scott’s phone was off?”

There’s a short pause on the other end of the phone, no doubt all the wolves are listening in.

“It is.”

Of course Derek isn’t going to make this easy for him.

“Uh, listen, can you apologize to him for me, I overreacted.”

Another pause. He’s going to die right here from the tension.

“I’ll relay that message. Was that all?”

What the heck, he came all the way here and he can’t stand to be on the phone with him for two minutes?!

“No. Actually. I’m worried the pack might be in danger, and I wanted to warn you, it’s really complicated, can you hand me over to Scott ?”

“No. Why would we be in danger? What do you know?”

Ah, there’s the Derek he knows, going from zero to a hundred the second his pack might be in danger. Good now, not so much when he thought Stiles was the threat.

“I’m not going to explain this right, but there’s an alpha pack, and they’re going to target your pack next. They either make you kill your betas, or make one of your betas kill you, to join their pack.”

“There’s no such thing as an alpha pack.”

“Right, no, that’s what I thought, too, but there is and they’re targeting you, or your creepy uncle, either way, so maybe you should stay here for awhile? Or no, maybe you should go home. I’m not sure, which would make you safer? I’m here, though, to help, if you stay here,” Stiles is rambling now, he knows it, but he can’t seem to stop.

“Did you really tell Scott you wanted to join the pack?”

This is so not the time for this discussion. Derek seems to realize this, too, because he quickly adds, “he was worried that you were being held against your will.”

“I’m not. Aiden is a friend, he used to be part of the alpha pack which is how he knows that you’re the next target.”

“If Aiden is part of this pack why is he helping us?”

“Used to be, Derek, pay attention.”

Derek snorts on the other end of the line.

“Even if something like an alpha pack were possible.”

“It is,” Stiles interrupts.

“Even if,” Derek pauses, “why would they target us?”

Aiden, clearly fed up with the back and forth, grabs the phone from Stiles.

“They said you were a newer pack, unstable, an offshoot, Deucalion thought you might be easier to persuade and if not, there’s another wolf in your pack who’s voiced displeasure at being overlooked.”

“Put Stiles back on the phone,” comes a low growl that Stiles can hear standing next to Aiden.

He snatches the phone back, glaring.

“Sorry, he just wanted to help. We can’t talk long, we’re worried about being tracked. Can you just promise me you’ll stay alert?”

Derek sighs, no doubt rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Stiles, we’re always alert.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Stiles doesn’t want to hang up. He’d sit and listen to Derek breath all day if he’d let him. Which is creepy. He should have that looked at. Aiden pokes him hard in the ribs and without thinking Stiles uses a root to trip the wolf, who yelps.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, Aiden’s being an ass. I can try and call tomorrow, if you want?”

Stiles wants him to want.

“If you need to,” Derek says after a long pause.

Which is pretty much the opposite of what Stiles had asked.

“Fine.”

Stiles hangs up before he can make a bigger idiot of himself.

“Now tell me how we save them,” he says to Aiden.

Chapter Text

“If you need to? IF YOU NEED TO?!” Erica shrieks, “what is the matter with you?! We couldn’t reach him for weeks, and now he’s offering to call us, and that’s what you say? What kind of mate are you?!”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the betas and Erica’s shoulders droop, her posture instantly submissive.

Derek just ignores her, though, staring at the phone in his hand. Why had he said that? He’d wanted Stiles to call again. Was it a power thing? Was it because Stiles is only offering to call because he believes some ridiculous claim about an alpha pack? Was is it because he’s still not sure the other boy isn’t wrapped up with Aiden, the mysterious alpha?

He doesn’t know, but he’s just as mad at himself as Erica is. It had sounded like he was going to call back anyway, though, when he’d hung up. He’ll do better tomorrow, he tells himself. Maybe he’ll practice a few hypothetical conversations in his head.

“Should we do something?” Scott asks, looking between the assembled wolves.

“About what?” Derek snaps.

“About the alpha pack?”

“There is no alpha pack.”

“Why would Stiles lie about that?”

“I don’t think he’s lying, I think he’s being lied to.”

“So an alpha pack really couldn’t happen?”

Derek rubs a hand down his face tiredly, sitting in a chair.

“If more than one alpha could be in a pack, don’t you think we’d all be doing it? Don’t you think I’d still be with Laura if that were possible? If there were two alphas in our pack, who would you defer to? Who’s in charge? Who makes the decisions? It just doesn’t work.”

“That makes sense,” Scott says slowly, “but if they’re all alphas they don’t really have to worry about the betas deferring, right? I mean, they just pick one alpha to be the alpha of alphas and…” he trails off.

“Alright.” Derek says, leaning his head back, closing his eyes, “what do you suggest we do differently to prepare for this alpha pack?”

Scott is silent for a moment, thinking or fuming he doesn’t know which. Should he call Stiles back and apologize? Maybe a text message, so that he’ll get it as soon as he turns the phone back on. One with lots of emojis?

“Maybe we should ask the druids? If we’d be better suited for an attack on home turf or here, I mean.”

“Home court advantage is what I’d normally suggest, but if the druids were willing to help having them so close would definitely be ideal,” Erica says, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of Derek and leaning her head against his knee.

“Would they help us?” Isaac asks, sitting back on the couch.

“I don’t see why not. They don’t know that Derek went and mated one of their students yet, so there’s no reason for them not to help us.” Erica throws Derek the stink eye as she says this, but he ignores her. “Though that’s bound to change if they ever find out.”

“Don’t they have to find out?” Scott asks, pacing the small sitting area. “I mean, if Derek wants Stiles as his mate, and he’s already marked him, there’s not really a way to hide it, is there? You do still want him as your mate, right? You’re not just jerking him around?” The last sounds more than a little accusatory.

“That’s between Stiles and I,” Derek says, sitting up straighter, “if that’s what he wants I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out with the druids.”

He thinks. He hopes.

“Should we ask them for help?” Isaac asks.

“From a pack that can’t exist? How do you plan on doing that?”

“Well Stiles says they do, couldn’t we ask the druids if it’s even possible?”

Erica and Isaac stay locked in their glaring contest as Boyd grabs Scott’s arm to stop his infernal pacing, before pushing him onto the couch.

“We’ve already decided we’re going to stay in the area at least temporarily,” Derek announce, “why don’t we wait to hear back from Stiles before we do anything else. In the meantime, we’ll stay alert. Scott, if it would make you feel better, we’ll set up a watch schedule, and go out in pairs moving forward.”

Scott seems mollified by this, and he nods curtly. Isaac smiles and rubs his arm.

Chapter Text

Aiden circles him, hands fisting and unfisting at his sides. Ethan had said he was on the way, but that was twenty minutes ago, and the wolf is clearly impatient for his brother to arrive.

Stiles sits cross legged on a stump, flipping through the warding book again. Everytime he thinks he has a handle on the ward around the school it slips through his fingers. He’s beginning to suspect that he’s being prevented from understanding it by the ward itself. A handy little feature if he does say so himself.

They wait another hour before Aiden decides that Ethan must be waiting for them at the house. Stiles think this is unlikely, but chooses not to say so. He wouldn’t mind some actual furniture to sit on, if he’s being honest. He looks forlornly at the pile of books and follows Aiden to the cabin.

Predictably, no one is there. Aiden stalks around the perimeter, and then through all of the rooms as if Ethan might be hiding under a bed or in the shower. Stiles feels apprehension through his bond with Aiden, and he does his best to block it out. He heads to his own room, or well, the room he’s been given for however long he’s here, and pulls out his whiteboard.

On the left hand he has all the information he’s been able to pry out of the twins about the alpha pack. Names, locations, what packs they came from, anything he can get. On the right half is all the information he’s been able to put together about the druids. When they started the academy, when they started recruiting potential betas, the deans over the years, and some first hand knowledge from living in the system. It’s much less than he would have expected after spending so many years living on campus. It’s not nearly enough to mount a rescue attempt for Danny.

On the other side he has a giant layout of the campus. He’s been to almost all of the buildings, and he knows what they look like inside, where the exits are, where the teacher’s offices are, their dorms, and where ingredients are kept. He hasn’t spent too much time in the administrative building, if they really are holding Danny hostage somewhere, he has to think it’s there.

Here are the things he knows. One, Danny is missing. He hasn’t been able to get ahold of him at all since the twins “borrowed” him from school.Two, the twins think that Danny is being held hostage and are holding Stiles hostage until he can be recovered. Three, the twins are from a pack of alphas who are planning to destroy the Hale pack. Four, Stiles can’t leave to help keep the Hale pack safe until he’s found Danny and the twins let him leave.

So he has to find Danny. He thinks the first step would be to take down the ward around the school. No doubt it’s protecting the people inside, which is admirable and all that, but it’s keeping Stiles from being able to use magic to find Danny. Also, once he’s in the ward, it will start to play on his own magic, making him weaker. So - the ward has to come down.

He can’t take the ward down until they have a plan, though. And to make a plan they all need to be together. Aiden seems to have some sort of vague outline of things they can do, but he doesn’t want to cough up the goods until his brother is back.

So new first step, find Ethan. Normally he’d track his cell phone or car, not that he’s in the habit of stalking people, it’s just good common sense. Ethan is too paranoid to use his cell phone more than brief bursts, though, and Stiles hasn’t seen a vehicle the whole time he’s been here. He contemplates attempting to scry for him using the map and chain he’d found in what he assumes is Danny’s room, but he doesn’t think that sort of thing works if you don’t believe in it. He may have magic, but he’s never tried to use it that way, and the last thing they need is a magical wild goose chase on top of everything else.

Stiles writes the new information he has about the alpha pack on the board while he tries to come up with a “find Ethan” plan. By the time he’s taped up a few more strings and drawn a snarling wolf to represent Derek and his pack, Aiden has circled back around and is standing in his doorway.

Aiden insists they trudge back to the clearing to check if Ethan is there, even though the sun is setting and the path is precarious. He supposes it’s easier with supernatural reflexes, less worry about tripping over a stone or walking into a low hanging branch.

Thankfully, Ethan is in the clearing when they arrive. Unfortunately he’s also bleeding and snarling. Aiden rushes to his side, examining the wounds, and comforting his brother.

“Why isn’t he healing?” Stiles asks, crouching next to the injured man.

“It was Kali. Freaky bitch.”

“Kali? She’s here? How did they find you?”

“Um, Kali like alpha pack Kali?” Stiles tries to clarify.

“I don’t know, I don’t know if they’re looking for us or,” Ethan winces, putting pressure on the gaping wound, “or if it was just dumb luck on her part.”

“Could they be here for Derek? Are they in danger?”

Aiden freezes from where he’s perched over his brother, his shoulders rigid.

“Us or them, either way, we’re screwed. We need to get out of here. Were you followed?”

“No, I,” Ethan coughs, “I was able to get away, and I had the satchel with me, I put it on once I was sure I was out of sight.”

“Why weren’t you wearing it to begin with?” Aiden demands.

“Forgot, I guess,” Ethan gives a weak chuckle.

It’s all very touching, but Stiles is freaking out. Is the alpha pack here to reclaim the twins or are they here to recruit Derek? Is Peter lurking around somewhere waiting to strike? His loyalties feel hopelessly divided except for the fact that he needs to take down the alpha pack, and soon. It’s the only way.

“We need a plan. Now. Tonight.” Stiles demands, fighting off panic.

“We can’t do anything until he’s healed,” Aiden barks at him, “come help me.”

“Right.”

Stiles kneels next to Ethan and surveys the damage. There’s a long gash across his chest, along with shallower marks on his arms and legs. Some look defensive. He hopes he gave as good as he got. Stiles takes a deep breath and concentrates on not throwing up. It's going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Stiles doesn’t call in the morning. This shouldn’t be surprising, they hadn’t really set a time, there’s no reason to get jumpy about him not calling before noon.

Stiles doesn’t call in the afternoon. Still fine. Derek knows he keeps his phone off most of the time, and Aiden had seemed to keep it for safekeeping. Maybe they have a predetermined schedule in mind.

Stiles doesn’t call in the evening. Derek is convinced that he’s not calling because he hadn’t swallowed his pride and asked him to. He wonders if he’s contacted any of the betas, but they’re all in such close proximity it seems doubtful he’d have missed even the uptick of a heartbeat at the excitement from hearing from him.

So Derek sulks. Or that’s what Erica says anyway, while she stress eats through two bags of flaming hot cheetos in addition to all the chinese food Isaac insisted they order.

They go out in pairs, sniff around a bit, both literally and metaphorically. Scott relays Stiles’ reticence to going to the druids, so they don’t. Instead they put out feelers for other visiting packs of which there are few, and walk as much of the perimeter of the woods behind the academy as they can hoping to catch a whiff of anything that might explain why Stiles thinks they’re in danger.

They find a trail of intense chemosignals of pain, fear and anger off the road, but it stops dead. Isaac and Scott spend most of the day circling it, trying to figure out who was involved and where the separate parties went, to no avail. All they’re able to discern is that there were two wolves involved, a struggle, a chase, and then… nothing.

It’s troubling that there was any kind of conflict so close to the school. The druids are hyper vigilant and should have noticed. When the sun goes down and Stiles still hasn’t called it’s decided that they’ll head to campus and Derek will speak to Deaton. If nothing else they can mention the fight in the woods, a showing of good will, and check in again if any of them have heard from Stiles.

Chapter Text

Ethan is slow to heal, even as Stiles tries to use his magic to hurry it along. He doesn’t know a ton of healing magic, is the problem, because he was never taught. There’s a short class offered on it at the academy that’s just basic first aid, and then another about magical healing that’s only available to trainees who’ve found a pack. Another thing for Stiles to wonder about, why would they limit any kind of knowledge to the sparks? Shouldn’t they all be learning to use their magic to heal? He was so wrapped up in all of the things he was learning he hadn’t had time to consider the things he wasn’t.

While Ethan rests Stiles and Aiden work on a plan. Stiles hands over everything he’s found out about the druids and everything he knows about the layout of the campus, and the ward protecting it.

Aiden finally tells Stiles his plan. He tells Stiles he has to have an open mind before he tells him, which of course just makes Stiles more apprehensive. He wants to do whatever it takes to save everyone, though. Not just Derek and Scott and their pack, but Danny and the twins, too. So he promises to listen without interrupting.

Aiden wants to give him the mating bite. Stiles has to clamp down hard to keep from protesting right off the bat. Aiden even pauses as if expecting an outburst, but continues when he stays silent.

“If I give you a mating bite you’ll have more access to my strength, and I can show you how to use it. You’ll also have a stronger pack bond with both of us, because it’s pretty clear you’re having trouble connecting with Ethan. With a strong pack bond in place we’ll be able to move and plan together better, just by feel. It will also give you complete access to all of the natural magic in the ‘territory’ we’ve claimed, and I think, we both think, that once the ward goes down it will include all of the magic the druids have been hoarding under the school.”

Stiles stares at him for several long seconds.

“I have so many questions.”

Aiden sighs, but doesn’t seem surprised.

“Okay…” Stiles stands to pace, “first, can I even have two mating bites?”

“You can have two packs, why shouldn’t you be able to have two mating bites? Do you think polyamory was invented this decade or something?”

Stile snorts at that.

“Fine, let's say I can have two mating bites, for argument's sake, can I have a mating bite with someone who doesn’t want to, you know, mate me?” Stiles uses lots of hand gestures to get his point across.

“Asexuality wasn’t invented this decade, either, Stiles.”

“Yeah, but we’re not, or atleast, I’m not, are you? It just feels like we’re trying to trick the magic. Not that I don’t like you, because I do, but uh, I don’t like you like that.”

Aiden fights against rolling his eyes, Stiles can physically see him restraining himself from showing his annoyance and frustration.

“We’re not in junior high, Stiles, I’m not going to pass you a note asking you to circle yes or no, we’ll do the mating bond to give you better access to my magic and the magic of my, our, territory, and if after we’ve rescued Danny you don’t want to stay with our pack Danny can help us dissolve it.”

“Wait. Stop. Do you want me to stay with the pack? Because all I’ve been getting from you guys are save Danny, escape the alpha pack, vibes, not, let’s be one big happy family, vibes. Do you want me to be your emissary?”

“Danny’s our emissary.” Aiden says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe it is to them, but it isn’t to Stiles.

“Danny couldn’t stay at the school if he were your official emissary.”

“So we’re not official. Focus, Stiles.”

“Right. Right, okay. Hoarding magic? You said the druids were hoarding magic?”

“Yes. In the school. Like literally, in one of the buildings. Do you know what a nemeton is?”

Stiles stares at him in disbelief for a moment before he cracks up laughing. He can’t help it. Does he know what a nemeton is? He’s from Beacon Hills!

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well the druids have one on campus. Which isn’t that odd, where you find a gathering of druids you’ll often find a nemeton, they use them for their rituals, they’re sacred.”

“I’m sorry, you expect me to believe that the druids have a nemeton on school grounds and no one knows about it? Come on.”

“Think about it Stiles. The school has been here for decades, even if anyone remembered it being there before the druids have locked it away inside a ward. If I had to guess I’d say that the nemeton is helping to charge the ward constantly. Speaking of, are you sure you can take it down?”

“Yes. I mean,” Stiles fidgets, “I still don’t know how it works completely, but I know it enough to be able to destroy it. I’m not sure what kind of consequences there will be, we haven’t studied nemetons at all in our classwork, how they interact with wards or other magic users, but still…” Stiles nods, straightening, “I can take it down.”

“Ok. Anymore questions?”

“I don’t even know,” Stiles says honestly, “but I don’t think we have time for much more. If you say it’s safe, I’ll trust you. Let’s go over the plan one more time before you mark me.”

Chapter Text

Danny tugs again at his restraints, pushing his spark through the metal, feeling where the rings meet. He’s been working on his right hand for days, and it’s finally starting to give.

His captors have stopped checking on him, no doubt hoping to starve answers out of him. They’re out of luck, though. Danny wouldn’t betray Ethan for the world.

Breathing in deeply, recentering, he finds his spark again, and pushes it through the metal, again. Then he tugs. He keeps repeating the motions, mentally exhausted, but unwilling to give up.

Derek straightens his tie. He hates ties, it feels like a noose around his neck. The too tight shiny shoes, the fitted suit pants and jacket, the whole thing constrains like a wearable prison. Erica comes over and helps him, tightening the noose, making him presentable.

They’ve decided that the whole pack will come, but only Derek will go in to speak with Deaton. Hopefully he’ll be willing to see them at the late hour. They’re all too worried about Stiles to wait another night, though. So onward they march.

Stiles gasps as Aiden’s teeth bruise his neck, pressing with his human teeth just enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin. They’ve all decided this is the best way, the easiest way to undo this all when they’re done.

Everything comes rushing in on him at once. It wasn’t like this with Derek. It didn’t hurt like this, and there wasn’t this awareness. Was it because they weren’t on Derek’s territory when they did it? Or because neither of them wanted it?

He can feel the magic beneath their feet even more firmly than before, like before he’d dipped in a toe and now he’s wading in, deep into it. There’s magic in the trees, in the air, it’s so overwhelming he thinks he might be sick.

He was never any good at meditation, at centering himself or being one with the world. It was all greek to him before, but now, now he clings tightly to his own consciousness, pushing the magic away, to protect himself.

He must make some noise, because Aiden is in his face, asking if he’s okay. Stiles can’t even nod, pupils blown wide, jaw slack, it’s like the magic wants to take over, and oh it hurts.

Derek goes down hard, one moment he’s standing next to the Camaro turned clown car and the next he’s lying on the ground, unconscious.

The betas swarm him, his heartbeat is still there, he’s breathing, but he’s not awake, not moving. Erica makes a low keening noise in her throat, pulling at his jacket. There’s nothing coming through the bond, no pain or anything, which should be comforting but is instead horrifying. For a moment, it’s like he’s not there at all.

Then it comes rushing back as he sits up, roaring.

Stiles took down the ward before they started at Ethan’s insistence. So they stand in a small circle of mountain ash, the books in their own little pocket ward he’d been able to throw together.

He suddenly wishes they’d kept up the ward. He can feel everything, through the whole forest, and it doesn’t seem to be stopping. His magic butts against the ward around the books, the cabin, the school, and it is a relief that it cannot get through. It’s too much.

Aiden grabs his face in his hands, and he’s shouting, but Stiles can’t hear him, not really. There’s a rushing in his ears, all of his senses completely overwhelmed. He pulls his focus as hard as he can to Aiden and his magic latches onto to him.

Suddenly Stiles can see the thin red string tying them together, and as he focuses on it, it gets thicker. There’s a much thinner string tying him to Ethan, who’s still recuperating next to them. Stiles follows it with his magic, and Ethan lights up, his injuries instantly clear in front of him. Stiles desperately pushes some of his magic into him, anything to get rid of it, and Ethan groans from the ground before flopping like a rag doll, unconscious.

Aiden is tugging at him again, pulling his face, trying to make eye contact. He can make out that he is still shouting, but it’s like it’s coming through deep water. Stiles finds more red strings, one almost as thick as the one he has with Aiden, that has the same undercurrent, like a second string tied to it, perhaps braided inside, and then he feels... Derek.

Derek, Derek, Derek, his mind is shouting, and the line goes taut and then lax. Before he can panic, he pushes just a small pulse of magic through, but it’s pulling away, like he’s broken it.

His eyes are blurry, and he realizes that he’s crying, so he clenches them shut, focusing on just this one string, refusing to let it go. He wraps his magic around it, delicately, and pulls it back towards himself, desperate not to lose it.

Without thinking he grabs Aiden’s string, and he ties them together, tethering them to himself. Aiden’s gasp seems to come not through the air but through his magic, Stiles eyes fly open as Aiden collapses next to him.

There’s still too much. He’s brimming with it, lit up like a Christmas tree that’s going to blow a fuse at any moment. Stiles searches wildly for more strings. There. The pack. His pack. He grabs them all, and ties them firmly to Scott, who has the best connection to Stiles. Feeding as much magic as he dares through them all, he feels the connections become firmer, like they’re all in a room together with him.

Focusing again on Ethan he finds the string connecting him to Danny, but when he tries to follow it he hits the ward around the school. There’s still too much magic, too much, he’s too full, so he takes it, and he smashes it against the ward.

He’d planned a delicate assault, he’d planned to erase the ward quickly, and leave no trace, but instead his magic picks wildly at the runes, and it’s a relief that the ward repairs itself almost as quickly as he damages it.

Finally. Something to focus on. Unthinking, Stiles steps through the mountain ash circle, breaking it, and walks towards the ward. As he pulls his magic away from the pack, he feels them come back. He can hear Ethan and Aiden waking behind him, feel their confusion through the bond, but he marches on.

Chapter Text

Four things happen at once. Danny feels the ward come down from around the school, his connection to Ethan snaps back in place, only 100 times more intense, his chains break, and finally… he fills with magic.

Something must have happened since he was separated from Ethan, a challenge for territory or an addition to the pack, something to tether them to the magic here in a way they weren’t before.

Danny acts fast, concentrating on giving as much of the magic back as he can before he can lose himself in it, grateful for the knowledge from his pilfered books that he’s not currently catatonic on the ground drooling from the force of the magic from the nemeton.

Either Ethan has found a way to take the wards down to come and rescue him, or the campus is under attack. Whatever the case, he needs to get out of here.

Derek feels Stiles like a real mate, like someone he’s courted and chased, who’s submitted to and challenged him, like they’re two halves of a whole. Except not. Because there’s someone else now, like an addition to his pack.

He doesn’t have time to get his bearings, though, before his betas are falling around him, bodies hitting the ground with loud thwacks, boneless and unconscious before their limbs meet concrete.

Are they under attack? Are the druids striking at them for coming to campus unannounced? Derek checks the fallen betas, their breathing and heart beats are steady. Before he has too much time to panic, they’re all gasping awake as one.

Aiden is pretty sure he fucked up. Like, 95% sure. Stiles is walking mechanically ahead of them, the forest seeming to make a path for him. It’s disconcerting. His eyes are black as he walks past, and doesn’t seem to see them at all.

Ethan, who’s always been like his second half, suddenly seems even closer, like if he closed his eyes he might hear his thoughts. Aiden doesn’t close his eyes. Instead he scurries after the young spark, hoping he’s not about to bring the whole forest down around them.

Stiles barely notices as he crosses over where the ward stood. The air seems to sizzle around him as he steps over a destroyed rune, but it’s barely enough to register.

He can feel Danny, through Ethan, in the middle of campus. He’s moving, quickly, and he seems to be alone.

There are hundreds of bodies surging around campus, but he can’t tell them apart, they’re all a faceless mass, except for the ones he’s connected to.

On the other side of campus he can feel Derek and his pack, moving towards him and Danny. It’s possible they’ll intersect before he can get to them. In between there are countless sparks, sleeping, eating, living, and further still are the dorms that house the potential betas.

Sprinkled sparsely around the grounds he can feel the druids, many of whom seem to be heading towards the outskirts of the campus, towards where the ward was. He sets his course to evade the druids, and his wolves follow behind him without being told.

Without the ward to focus on, Stiles is blown wide again. Find Danny, he reminds himself. With a clear objective in mind, the trio wade deeper into the campus.

Chapter Text

Danny senses the druid outside the building, no doubt left there to guard him. With the ward down, though, his focus is probably elsewhere. Danny taps back into the magic, carefully, only taking a tiny piece for himself lest the magic get ideas, and uses all of his intent to make himself unnoticeable.

It’s not too hard, with the druid in question scanning the treeline, itching to get into the action. He’s not looking for Danny, and Danny wills him not to perceive him, so he doesn't. It’s a dangerous thing, using magic with just intent, and not something Danny would normally risk. He doesn’t have the luxury of runes and spellwork right now, though, so he does as little as possible, and stays on the move.

Once he's in the clear he starts towards the treeline and the camp he’d set up for Ethan and his brother.

They need to get to Deaton now, because something is clearly wrong, something magical in origin. He’s more linked to his betas than ever before, he can feel their fear and anxiety like it’s his own, and on top of it there’s a new person linked to him who’s confused and scared and… guilty?

Stiles is here, too, somewhere. He’s blank, but present, he’s never felt anything like it before. He doesn’t like it. He wants to find his mate and protect him, keep him safe. He shakes the intrusive thought, frightened it’s not his own. How much of his feelings are his own, and how much is manufactured? He needs answers. Now.

The betas circle him defensively as they head to Deaton’s office. There’s a feeling of panic and discord in the air, like something major has happened. There are no alarms sounding, but there are running feet, and guarded doors. No one stops them, though, as they make their way to the administration building. No one seems to notice them at all, in fact.

Stiles senses the druid before he sees him, and he tries to divide his focus to find a way to keep them from colliding in the pathways between buildings. The wolves stop behind him without being told, and they wait silently for the danger to pass.

They turn the corner of the next building and Stiles watches as Erica slips into the administration building, closing the door behind her. Stiles forces the magic to focus and sure enough, the betas and Derek are all in the building. More worrisome, Danny is two buildings over, and he’s headed back towards the forest.

Stiles needs them all together, where he can keep them safe, protect and shield them. He knows the objective is to find and rescue Danny, but he can’t leave Derek undefended, letting the druids exchange one hostage for another.

He still can’t grasp the magic like he could his spark, though, manipulate it the way he needs to, doesn’t have the attention to find the rune he needs and create it. So he reaches blindly again for the strings and tugs hard at Danny’s.

The other spark stops, but doesn’t turn, so Stiles tugs again. Come here, he begs through the magic, come and let me shield you. A third tug has Danny changing course towards the administration building.

Stiles climbs the steps and the wolves follow. The plan had always been to come here, the assumption being that Danny was housed within. He doesn’t tell his wolves that the plan has changed, that he needs to save everyone now. He doesn’t trust Ethan not to break off and sequester his mate at the risk of the rest of the pack… at the risk of Derek and Aiden.

So he leads them into the beast of the belly and doesn’t warn them.

Aiden can feel the magic emanating from Stiles, it makes his nose itch, his skin crawl. He’s not sure Stiles is still in there at all, that he’s not just a Stiles shaped puppet. He follows him anyway, and part of him wonders if he’s being compelled against his will, but the rest of him just wants to find Danny and keep his pack safe.

Stiles leads him up a staircase and down a hallway, there are signs on the walls, and he gathers that they’re heading to the dean’s office. He wonders what Stiles knows that he doesn’t, that they aren’t heading downward like they’d planned. They’d all assumed a secret dungeon would be, well, a dungeon. He doesn’t question him, though.

Under the stink of magic he can make out the smells of other wolves, wolves who’ve traveled this way recently. He and Ethan make eye contact and communicate silently. They have to be on guard for more than just druids, now.

The building is quiet at night, which makes sense. Derek knows that Deaton keeps late hours, though, and doesn’t worry that he won’t be in. With the blanket of panic resting on the campus, he has no doubt the druid will be in residence.

The waiting room is just as he remembers, though slightly more unsettling in the darkness. Moonlight shines sharp shadows across the room, over the old magazines and dusty plants. He feels his beta’s unease at his back, but none of them stop him. There’s a light shining under the door to the office, so Derek knocks softly on it.

There’s a rustling sound coming from within, as if someone is moving around papers, then footsteps. After a few moments Deaton opens the door.

“Alpha Hale, what an unexpected surprise!”

Stiles pauses before the large glass door leading into Deaton’s suite for Danny to enter the building. He gives another small tug, and has to tug at Ethan, too, when Danny gives an audible grunt.

He turns to stare down the wolf, who flashes his eyes red before turning his head away in submission. Danny runs up the stairs, his footsteps echoing even in the carpeted corridor, as Stiles steps into the waiting area.

Isaac turns first, Derek already through the door to the office, Erica trailing behind him. Scott looks where Isaac looks and rushes over, concern flashing across his face.

Stiles doesn’t feel safe yet, though, not with Danny behind and Derek ahead. Together. He needs them together.

Stiles walks past Scott, trusting him to follow with the rest of the wolves, as Danny comes crashing into the room.

“Stiles! Stop!” He shouts.

Chapter Text

Danny feels the pull through the bonding link and tries to ignore it. He needs to get out of here, away from the druids, into the ward, before he’s caught. The pull comes again, and he curses, compelled to follow it.

He wants to scream in frustration when he realizes that he’s being pulled to the admin building, a place he’d hoped to never see again. He doesn’t want to be here, his whole body seems to be fighting him over it. He stops in the entryway, considering making a run for it, tapping into the magic, when another tug comes.

He grunts, he can’t help it, it hurts in a way only magic does. He doubts the druids would even know how to exploit the mating bond like this, eschewing bonds and their magic as less than, but he doesn’t want to take the chance. He doesn’t seem to have the option, though, so he runs up the stairs.

Down the hallway he sees the backs of Ethan, Aiden and Stiles as they enter the room. Panicking, he sprints down the hall, throwing open the door, just to watch Stiles march himself into the lion's den.

“Stiles! Stop!” He shouts as loud as he can, out of breath from the run after his confinement.

Stiles stops mid step, and Danny realizes that he’s full of magic, overflowing with it, he’s not even sure that it’s Stiles standing in the room with him anymore.

Before he can get to him, help him,knock him out, drag him away, something, anything Deaton’s face appears in his doorway, a surprised expression flickering across his face before resuming his insufferable bland guise.

“Spark Mahealani, Spark Stilinski, how unexpected,” he begins, his voice even, not betraying a hint of shock or anger.

Danny holds himself steady, willing himself not to recoil, panic keeping him rooted to the spot.

“Do I have you to thank for the fallen wards, then?” He asks dryly.

“We just want Danny, and we’ll go,” Aiden says, backing up.

Stiles turns to look at him, and Danny gasps. His eyes are all black, and his veins are starting to pulse dark, as well. He’s clearly been full of magic too long, Danny’s not sure how he’s still standing. He makes a move to get closer to him and he hears a low growling coming from the door behind Deaton.

Danny freezes again, hand outstretched towards Stiles, turning to make eye contact with the alpha. He turns his palms up to show he means no harm.

“He… he’s going to die if you don’t let me help him.”

Derek continues to growl menacingly, but doesn’t leap to tear his throat out, so Danny closes the last few inches and puts his hand on Stiles’ arm. Instantly he feels the magic flowing through him, so much more than any one person should ever try to hold. He pulls some of it out, thanking it, and giving it back to the nemeton, but it’s like bailing out a boat filled with holes. As soon as he siphons magic out, Stiles fills back up.

“You have to help me, you have to give it back.”

Stiles doesn’t seem to hear him at all, he’s turned to stare back at Deaton.

“I think perhaps he’s too far gone.” Deaton states, not sounding sorry about it at all. “You should leave him here with me and go, he’s drawing every magical creature in a hundred mile radius right now. It won’t be safe much longer.”

This time all of the wolves bristle, turning to growl at Deaton. It’s all very eerie, like something out of a horror movie, but Deaton remains unphased. Danny desperately pulls at the magic inside of Stiles, trying to give the other spark enough of himself back so he can fight for himself.

“I see he’s made himself a pack. That’s unfortunate. We had hoped to recruit him to work here, with us. He’s a truly remarkable talent.”

Danny tries to ignore him, though even just his voice makes him feel sick. They’d been trying to recruit Danny for almost a year. That’s how he’d gotten access to the secret books, the added lessons, the real magic. At first he’d thought the druids were right, that magic must be protected at all cost, and that the wolves couldn’t be trusted with too much of it. Then he’d met Ethan.

The wolves deserved real emissaries, not the idiot weaklings the druids sent them. They deserved respect and protection and loyalty, not bonded spies they couldn’t get rid of. The thought of Stiles getting wrapped up in their warped sense of justice… it wasn’t tenable.

Danny keeps pulling and pulling, siphoning off the magic as fast as he can, when Ethan and Aiden begin to growl, Ethan throwing his body between Danny and the door. Danny doesn’t have time right now to deal with whatever that is, though. He can feel Stiles’ losing his last bit of control.

Chapter Text

Derek doesn’t know what to do. Stiles is standing right there, he can feel him, but is face is vacant, his smell wrong, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Danny seems to think he can do it, but the panic scent rolling off of him is not reassuring. The man is pleading with Stiles to help him, but Stiles just cocks his head, saying nothing.

Deaton suggests they leave Stiles with him and Derek’s hackles raise. Leave his mate? Unprotected? He feels the growl before he knows he’s going to do it. He’s gratified to hear it echoed around the room. Stiles doesn’t look at him, why won’t he look at him? Derek tries to keep his emotions in check, this isn’t about them, it’s about making Stiles better.

Deaton acknowledges the pack as Stiles’, and Derek feels slightly mollified. Stiles is theirs and they are his. He shakes his head again to try to knock lose the fanatical thoughts.

Danny closes his eyes and Derek can smell the stink of magic even stronger than before, but not as strongly as Danny’s panic. Derek wants to do something to help, to anchor Stiles or take away his pain, anything.

Across from him, the twin wolves growl in unison, a threatening growl meant to intimidate. Derek feels Erica at his back, scanning the room, holding a defensive position. In front of him Boyd is doing the same, while Scott continues staring hopelessly at his friend, Isaac at his side.

“What is it?” Derek grits out, not liking that he doesn’t sense whatever the twins are sensing.

“Alpha pack,” Ethan spits out, keeping himself better Danny and the door.

“I smell two,” Aiden confirms, staring at the door and his brothers back.

Derek wants to roll his eyes, scoff at their claim, because it’s still as ridiculous as it was the first time he heard it, except now the world seems to have shifted on its axis. For some reason he feels like he can trust Aiden, like he should trust him, and he doesn’t know where the instinct is coming from.

A loud bang comes from the stairwell, like someone striking something metal against the concrete wall, and Scott jumps, startled. Danny is whispering something to Stiles who nods, and it’s the first sign that he can hear or see at all and it gives Derek a sliver of hope he didn’t have before. More loud bangs echo before they stop.

Everyone is quiet, like they’re holding their breath, staring at the door, when something comes crashing through the window in Deaton’s office.

Chapter Text

“I need you to give it back, quickly, or we won’t be able to protect them. I need you to trust me, I’m going to do a truth rune,” Danny sketches a rune on the back of his hand, and Stiles tries to focus on it, “and one on mine, so you know you can trust me.”

Danny pauses, and Stiles feels himself drifting again, along the magic. It’s everywhere and everything, and without anything to spend it on, it just keeps filling and filling him.

“Give back half, okay? Just half. I know you want to protect them, and I swear to you if you give back half you’ll still be more powerful than any person in the room, but if you don’t Derek will die.”

Panic lances through the fog and Stiles grasps for the opening, for the clarity, and he nods. When Danny starts pulling the magic from him again he concentrates on the feeling of the magic leaving, and he mimics it.

“Thank you,” he whispers in his mind to the magic, “thank you for keeping us safe, thank you for keeping us together, thank you,” and he can feel the magic depleting, slowly. It makes him feel empty, weak. When he tries to pull it back, though, Danny grabs his hand and squeezes.

The world filters back in slowly, and it feels jarring to see the pack with his eyes instead of his magic. The twins are crouched in defensive positions, hackles raised, staring at the door to the hallway. Derek’s pack is at his back, Deaton between him and Derek. Without thinking Stiles reaches out to pull Derek closer and Danny pulls at his hand again to stop him.

“You have to stop using magic through intent,” he hisses, “it’s dangerous.”

Stiles has no idea what he’s talking about. His intent? Magic is all about intent. When you draw a rune or place a ward or mix a potion you have to tell the magic what you intend while you do it. That’s why you drill on what the runes mean, so when you go to draw a rune for clarity your mind automatically reaches for that with the figure. Though, he supposes when he tried to move Derek closer he hadn’t used a rune at all, had he? He’d just… pulled.

The wolves are talking around them as he works it out, he’s not sure what they’re saying, all of his focus on Danny and letting the magic go, but it’s clear that no one in the room is happy. A sudden hush descends, anxiety and fear apparent even to the non-wolves, when a crashing sound comes from Deaton’s office.

Stiles throws himself into motion without thinking.

Chapter Text

Danny doesn’t have time to think when the wolf comes through the second story window into Deaton’s office. One minute he’s standing in a room, waiting for an ambush, and the next the floor is bucking underneath his feet, sending him and Deaton to the floor, and pulling Erica and Derek out of the office.

The door slams shut and holds, while a werewolf comes crashing through it, the magic holding the remains in the frame. Danny curses his lack of supplies but it’s not like the druids let him hold onto his mountain ash when they tossed him in a room to interrogate him. He thinks fast, drawing a protection rune on both hands, hoping it will help keep him alive if not unharmed.

Next to him, Stiles is throwing people and things around like it’s nothing. Stiles isn’t full of magic anymore, Stiles is magic. His body is going to run out sooner than later, though, so Danny needs a plan.

Ethan jumps to meet a new wolf coming through the hallway door midair, and Danny cringes. He knows Ethan can hold his own, but he also know that alpha injuries take much longer to heal.

A moment later another wolf is walking in, calm as can be, surveying the fighting. Derek tenses next to him when he spots him.

“Peter?” He asks, incredulous, as if he can’t believe his eyes.

“Hello, nephew,” he responds, his voice oily.

“Uh, who’s side is this guy on?” Danny asks, not liking how close the new wolf is to his preoccupied mate.

“Ours,” the wolf who came through the window shouts, “help Ennis,” he demands.

“Mmm,” Peter hums, still taking in the battle that wages around him.

With the nemeton magic uncaged and flying free Danny can’t help but grab a piece for himself, just this once he promises himself, to pin the enemy wolf underneath Ethan. They can’t afford to waste another moment if Peter is against them, too.

Ethan doesn’t realize that his wolf has stopped struggling at first, but Peter does. He snarls and pounces, tearing out the paralyzed wolf’s throat, and roaring as his eyes flash red.

Another wolf had come through while Ethan struggled with his, and she’s with Erica and Boyd, who circle her and attack with an eerie synchronicity. Derek, Scott, and Isaac are all circled around Stiles, who looks like he’s about to pass out. Aiden is fighting the wolf from the window, and Danny is sure that Stiles will intercede, at his own risk, should things start to go south.

“Help him!” Danny shouts, as Aiden reels backward with a gash across his chest.

Isaac looked to Derek for permission before diving into the fray, trying to corner the blonde alpha with Aiden. They attacking wolves are now hopelessly outnumbered, two to eight, but still they fight on, and they aren’t doing a horrible job of it.

Danny tries to distract Stiles from the action, confident the wolves will get it together eventually, but Stiles doesn’t have until eventually. He’s burning out right now in front of them, and no one is noticing.

“Give it back, Stiles,” he practically shouts in his face.

Stiles is blank again. Danny put his hands on either side of his face and closes his eyes, trusting Ethan to protect them both. Danny knows what he’s about to do is dangerous, that it might kill them both, but he can’t just let Stiles self destruct right in front of him.

He pulls at the magic the nemeton is throwing out, it’s practically begging someone to use it, like a siren call, and Danny lets it seduce him for just a moment. He pulls as much as he dares, more than he’s ever tried before, and he uses it to shove all of the magic he can out of Stiles at once.

Chapter Text

Derek stands guard over his mate while his friend tries to help him through whatever magical dilemma they’re dealing with. Peter is staring at his blood soaked claws, and Derek knows he must be feeling the first rush of confusing sensations that come with gaining alpha powers. He has questions for his uncle, but they’ll have to wait.

Erica and Boyd are circling a female wolf, her wild hair streaming free behind her as she kicks out, barefoot. Aiden and Isaac seem to be having trouble with their wolf, his eyes glowing red in his scarred face. Derek knows he should help one of them, either of them, both of them, should be protecting his betas, but he can’t leave Stiles’ side.

Ethan seems to be struggling with the same problem, coming to stand guard over Danny, growling and lashing out when the fighting comes too close. Scott, who’s never seen battle before this, who barely has any training, cowers next to them.

Derek whimpers as Stiles goes boneless next to him, and he and Danny both fall to the ground. Deaton is eyeing them critically on the other side of the room and Derek wants to scream at him to fix them.

Danny’s eyes are open, staring, unblinking. Stiles’ are closed, but his heartbeat is slowing, it’s terrifying. Neither boy is well, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Deaton army crawls across the floor to check the pulse in Danny’s neck, and Derek is awed at the stupidity. As if he wouldn’t know if one of them were dead long before Deaton.

Ethan looks like he might take Deaton’s head off when he touches Danny, but it’s just a quick check, and then he’s onto Stiles.

“What’s wrong with them?” Derek demands.

“They’re both burnt out,” Deaton says in a measured tone, like there aren’t currently werewolves grunting and snarling around him, “if we don’t revive them soon they risk losing their sparks altogether.”

“Won’t they die without their sparks?” Ethan asks, and Derek swings around to stare at him.

Stiles could die without his magic?

“That is the likely outcome, yes,” Deaton responds, looking over his shoulder at the wolves. “I need to get into my office, I don’t suppose either of you could help arrange that?”

Derek curses the unflappable druid before telling Scott to help get the female wolf away from the door. To his credit, Scott only hesitates a moment before joining Isaac, shifting as he goes, helping to herd them away from the office.

Ethan picks up Danny next to him, so Derek follows his lead. Stiles feels like nothing in his arms, like he might blow away if he breathes too hard on him. Instinctively Derek reaches out through their bond only to have Deaton snaps at him to stop it.

Derek hunches over Stiles prone form in his arms, his back wide open to their attackers, while Ethan does the same opposite him. Deaton strides between them to his office. The door collapses out of the frame under Deaton’s touch and he makes a worried sound as he steps through it.

Deaton walks behind his desk and mutters something and draws a rune in the air, and the wall recesses.

“In here, please,” he says as he walks through into the room beyond.

“No,” Ethan growls, eyeing the room distrustfully, “I won’t let you take him again.”

“I know you believe I’m some kind of evil mastermind, but I assure you I am not in the habit of letting my students die.”

“Do it out here.”

Deaton gives a very put upon sigh before heading into the room himself. Derek looks between Ethan and the new room, conflicted.

“Alpha Hale, if you’d like your spark to live I suggest you follow me,” Deaton calls from inside.

“Don’t trust him,” Ethan hisses, “once you go in you might not come back out.”

But Derek would do anything to protect Stiles, even if it means trusting Deaton with his own life.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and walks over the threshold.

Chapter Text

Aiden wants to follow his brother and Stiles into the office, Deaton is clearly up to something, but he can’t afford to abandon Derek’s wolves with Deucalion.

He grunts as he dodges another swipe, almost knocking into Scott. Scott’s attacks are hesitant, and get in the way more often than they’re helpful. What’s worse, Kali keeps driving the other wolves towards them, limiting their motion.

They need to eliminate one of them soon, or steer them apart, if they hope to all get out of this alive. Aiden tries his best to focus on Deucalion and not his flickering connection to the sparks, but he knows he’s distracted, and Deucalion is taking advantage of it.

“Little wolf, you’re going to die here, and I’ll bite your spark after you do,” he taunts, moving to place himself in front of the door. “I’ll make your brother kill his mate and welcome him back into the fold, it’ll be easy once you’re gone.”

Aiden snarls, lashing out at him, but Deucalion just jumps back, laughing. Maybe this is what they deserve for killing their alpha, what they deserve for defending themselves against their pack when they turned against them. If they’d only taken the abuse a while longer, or left their old pack altogether, none of this would be happening.

They should be winning, alpha and two betas versus an alpha, but they’ve never trained together, aren’t as united as they need to be, so Deucalion is able to hold his ground, find their weaknesses.

A blur of motion distracts Aiden for a moment, just a moment, but it’s long enough for Deucalion to get in a good swipe, slashing his shoulder open. Aiden cries out, falling back a step, and Scott takes his place, trying to push the alpha away.

The blur turns out to be Peter, who’s joined Derek’s wolves in their battle, grinning wildly and flashing bright white teeth along his new red eyes. Kali gives a grunt of surprise as the three wolves start to find a rhythm, driving her back, and then attacking her on two fronts, making her choose where she’ll defend.

Scott must think he can duplicate this, because he starts to attack Deucalion on one side, letting his friend attack the other. Unfortunately for them, Deucalion sees it coming, and just jumps backward into the office.

Ethan shouts as they all come tumbling in, cradling Danny to his chest.

“Go!” Aiden shouts at his brother, needing them out of the way so he doesn’t have to focus on protecting them while trying to defeat Deucalion.

Ethan looks conflicted for a moment, before diving into another room behind Deaton’s desk.

Deucalion is eyeing the window so Aiden leaps in front of it, but has to change course when instead he charges after Ethan. Isaac dives at him, grabbing him around the ankles, so he falls short of the room. Aiden kicks him in the face, his nose giving a satisfying crunch.

A scream comes from the room with his brother and mate, and he freezes. Stiles. Stiles is in danger, his instincts scream for him to go to him, and Deucalion uses the distraction spring to his feet and attack the wolves behind him.

Stiles wakes up and feels like all of his nerve endings are on fire. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to exist, there are knives stabbing him through his eyes, pliers plucking out his teeth, claws raking down his skin, he can’t see, he can’t think, and without meaning to, he screams.

Chapter Text

Scott is panicking, he knows he’s panicking, but he’s not prepared for this. He’s had very little combat training as a wolf, and this isn’t some sparring match where he can tap out when things get too hard. No, this wolf is terrifying, and he wants him dead.

In the other room Stiles screams and Aiden freezes, before abandoning him and Isaac to their fate. Scott wants to help, wants to save everyone, but he can’t get close enough. Isaac keeps throwing himself in front of him, protecting him, which isn’t getting them anywhere.

Behind them there’s a loud thump and then a shout from Peter, “help Isaac!”

Scott grunts in frustration as the wolf throws a chair at his head, barely ducking in time. He’s trying to help Isaac! Isaac won’t let him!

A moment later Erica and Boyd run in, and Scott realizes that Peter hadn’t been yelling at him. Erica rushes the alpha, distracting him while Boyd sprints to the other side, getting in a long swipe up the alpha’s torso.

“Looks like your luck has run out, Deucalion,” Peter drawls from the doorway.

“You could still join us, just help me take down these pathetic betas,” Deucalion snarls.

“Us?” Peter chuckles as Deucalion jumps onto the desk to avoid another hit from Boyd, “It looks like it’s just you, now. And I’ve got what I wanted.”

Peter flashes red eyes at him before charging forward, jumping up as Deucalion leaps down, clashing in the air.

It’s really scary, Scott thinks. Like something out of an action movie, except louder and smellier and messier. His heart is pounding in his chest and time has seemed to speed up and slow down as they’ve fought. He’s glad for the reprieve as the alphas clash.

Peter seems to have the best of him when Deucalion rolls across the floor and throws a potted plant at him. Peter blanches, caught off guard, and it looks like it’s all over for him as Deucalion extends his claws to rip open his throat when Boyd shoves his own claws through his back, picking him up.

“Do you want it?” Peter asks him, and Boyd shakes his head.

Peter smiles like a shark before shoving his hand into Deucalion’s chest.

Chapter Text

Derek is pulling as much of the pain as he can, but it’s more pain than he’s ever tried to pull before. There seems to be no end to it as Stiles screams himself hoarse. After a moment Aiden is by his side, taking Stiles’ other arm, veins going black as he takes as much pain as he can, as well.

Still Stiles heartbeat is erratic, sweat beading on his brow, a grimace on his face. He does stop screaming, though, which Derek is willing to take as a win right now. That, and Danny isn’t making any noise at all, and Derek decides he’d much rather Stiles scream than lay so still like his friend.

Deaton spends several minutes looking over Danny, humming in interest, but he doesn’t wake. From outside the room the sounds of the battle filter in, until there is a lull. Someone has won, but Derek doesn’t have the attention to spare right now to find out who. All that matters is Stiles.

Scott comes stumbling in, hands shaking, to stand near his friend. Derek quietly shows him how to pull some of the pain, and he nods, grabbing Stiles around the ankle. Deaton finally finishes his inspection of Danny and comes over.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton says, firmly, trying to catch his attention, “you cannot use magic until your spark has healed, nod if you understand.”

Stiles just pants on the low table, squeezing Derek’s hand.

“If you use magic before you have had time to repair your spark, you will lose it. Do you understand?”

Still Stiles says nothing, gives no indication that’s heard at all.

“He’s in pain, can’t this wait?” Aiden growls, wincing as he tries to pull more pain.

“Fix Danny,” Ethan demands, “he needs help! Now!”

Deaton ignores the frantic wolf, though, shining a light in Stiles’ eyes.

“I can knock him out for a short while, to help with the pain, and to keep him from using his spark accidentally, but he will eventually have to learn control.”

Peter and the rest of the betas come in, Peter covered in blood, as Deaton offers up this option.

“Well he’s not much use to us dead,” Peter snarks, causing all of the heads in the room to turn and stare at him.

He shrugs, walking to stand next to Deaton on the other side of the table, and the betas follow.

“Knew,” Stiles coughs, “you liked me.”

Derek snorts, clasping his free hand around Stiles’ bicep.

“Can you refrain from doing magic, Mr. Stilinksi?” Deaton repeats now that he’s sure Stiles can hear him.

“Think so,” he groans.

Derek is still pulling massive amounts of pain out of Stiles, and he can see Scott is looking a little green around the gills so he assumes they all are. How is he even talking?

“I can teach you control once you’ve rested, but in the meantime the nemeton is going to be a large temptation. I will need to repair the wards if you hope to live long enough to heal.”

Ethan growls as Deaton moves to leave the room, leaving Danny’s side long enough to block his path.

“If you put the wards back up you can trap them here,” he accuses.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Peter says, voice bored, as he leans against a bookcase.

“What do you mean?” Aiden asks, rubbing Stiles’ arm.

Derek follows the motion and swallows his annoyance. Now is not the time for this fight.

“I mean that I passed quite a few dead druids on my way, not,” Peter raises his hands in mock defense, “that I had anything to do with that, I doubt they have enough left to put the wards up even if they wanted to.”

“What they get for being such secretive creeps,” Ethan mutters, not moving to let Deaton through.

“Well, that does present a problem.”

Chapter Text

Stiles clings to consciousness as everyone talks around him, the sounds of conversation mostly floating just outside of reach. He has to restrain himself from pulling at the magic around him and is only able to do so because of the firm hands of his pack drawing out his pain.

Instinct is clamoring for him to heal himself, to grab the unrestrained magic and use it until he’s full again. Danny had told him not too, though, and he trusted Danny. Deaton had repeated the instruction with dire consequences and Derek hadn’t called him a liar, so more than likely the wisest thing to do was to ignore the magic.

So he focuses on the pain. There’s still plenty left, even with his friendly walking anesthetics. He has to admit just existing with the bonds instead of tugging on them is nice, comforting. When he lets himself just feel them it’s like being held, connected, even if what’s coming through them right now is worry.

Peter’s oily voice filters through to his consciousness, and seriously, what is up with that guy? Stiles doesn’t feel a bond to him like he does with Derek and the other betas, and he’s glad for it. He thinks it might make him feel dirty.

“...I doubt they have enough left to put the wards up even if they wanted to.”

He sounds smug. He almost always does. He should talk to Derek about that, when he can sit up without passing out.

“Well that does present a problem.”

Speaking of creepy men who have voices that irritate him, Deaton sounds as calm as ever about the fact that they can’t put up the wards to keep him from doing accidental magic and you know, killing himself, no big deal there, Deaton. Just go about your day.

“Certainly you have a few sparks lying around who could assist you, though,” Peter says, voice wheedling. “Oh, wait, but then you’d have to make them aware of the ward and teach them the runes. Hmmm. Better not.”

Stiles wants to clench his hand into a fist in frustration, but both hands are currently being held by wolves. Just as well, the added movement would cause him more pain than Peter is worth.

The magic in the air is calling to him, and he knows without trying that even though he can’t currently lift his head under his own power that with just a taste of the ambient magic he could throw Peter against the wall. A very real temptation, indeed.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut but quickly opens them again when Derek’s worry amps up through the bond.

“Mmm okay,” Stiles mumbles, squeezing his hand lightly.

A low moaning interrupts the arguing as Danny regains consciousness. Relief floods through from Aiden and Ethan and Stiles feels a momentary stab of guilt for not letting them know that Danny was fine. He supposes a part of him just assumed they could all feel it like he could, but it seems the bond doesn’t work the same way for the wolves.

“Are you okay? Deaton says you can’t use magic and he wants to put the wards back up,” Ethan calls from the doorway.

Stiles watches as Deaton retreats back to the tables to check on Danny, and Ethan rushes over to comfort him again. Aiden squeezes his hand before going to stand by his brother, and Stiles attempts to nod to tell him it’s okay before groaning at the pain it causes. He lets his head lull to the side, staring at the doorway back into Deaton’s office.

Which is why he’s the only one who sees her before she attacks.

Chapter Text

Everything is so confusing, and he really hurts. He knows he’s not pulling as much pain as Derek and Aiden, and that if the roles were reversed that Stiles would pull all the pain until he passed out himself, but he already hurts from all the fighting and his adrenaline is wearing off.

That, and he’s worried that if he does pass out Stiles will use magic and kill himself, which would be bad. Probably if Stiles dies Derek will kill him before he can even be sad about it himself. So he pulls enough pain that he hopes he’s making a difference, but not enough to take the grimace off his best friends face, and not enough to leave him on the floor.

It’s okay, because Aiden is next to him, his veins burning black, and Derek is across from them, brushing Stiles’ hair off his forehead, with his hand wrapped around Stiles’ wrist. Stiles even talks after they’ve been at it a few minutes, and he’s as sarcastic as ever. Scott feels relief rush through him, because maybe this means Stiles will be okay.

He has a lot to deal with without his best friend laying in a secret room, possibly dying. Like the fact that when it was time to defend his pack he was so scared, and didn’t want to hurt anyone at all. He’s not stupid, he wasn’t just going to let those alphas kill him without putting up a defense, but if Isaac hadn’t been there he’d have been dead in a minute. He can’t help but feel like a drain on the pack, and the worst of it is… he’s not sure he wants to learn to defend himself against attackers. Not if it means having a life where he actually has to use that knowledge. He hadn’t thought that this was the kind of thing that happened anymore when he’d asked for the bite.

Sure there were still territory disputes that sometimes ended in bloodshed but he can’t remember the last time he heard of a whole pack being wiped out. He’d had one self defense course at the center, and they’d told him he might never need it. Did that mean today was an anomaly, or that he’d been lied to? Had he traded in a life of medical issues for a short, violent one?

Derek’s uncle is arguing with Deaton like he knows more than they do, and while he certainly knows more than Scott does, he shouldn’t know more than his alpha. Is Derek his alpha still? You can’t have more than one alpha in a pack, except… well he guesses that’s not true considering the fight they just had. Will Peter come back home with them, or make his own pack? He has to be honest, he’s never liked Peter the way he does the rest of the pack. There’s just something off about him.

Danny, who Scott has only met a handful of times but really likes, groans awake on the next table over. Ethan doesn’t rush to his side, though, because he’s busy blocking Deaton in the secret lair with them. Why does Deaton have a secret lair, by the way?

The walls are lined with shelves, some have large tomes and others bottles or boxes. It all looks very neat and organized and Scott has no idea what half of it is. Is this where the druids meet to do their druid-y stuff? What do the druids even do? He’d always sort of thought it was like medicine with a little magic thrown in and a dash of record keeping. Before he’d come he’d pictured druids as dancing naked under the moonlight and doing like, blood rituals, but Deaton has seemed pretty boring from his experience.

Still. A secret room is kind of cool. He’s not sure why Ethan and Danny are worried about getting trapped in here. I mean, he’s pretty sure that werewolf strength would be able to go through the drywall.

Deaton seems to grow bored with Ethan and retreats back to the other side of the table, checking on Danny. Scott is glad that Danny and Stiles are okay, that it’s all almost over. Maybe once everyone is healed again they can go home. It would be amazing if Stiles could come with them. It’s pretty clear that Derek is really into him, and he’s Scott’s best friend, and all the other betas like him, there’s no reason he shouldn’t come home with them!

Aiden goes to join his brother in checking on Danny and Scott worries that Stiles will be in too much pain, again. He tries to pull a little extra but stops when he starts to feel woozy. Stiles lets his head loll to the side and Scott smiles down at him. He’s going to be fine, he tells himself, he just needs a little time to heal and then Deaton will teach him how to learn control. Maybe he can even help, he took lots of classes so he’d know how to control his shift!

Stiles’ eyes widen on the table, staring behind Scott’s shoulder, and Scott freezes. Deaton gives a shout of warning before Scott feels pain piercing through his back, and at first it’s more startling than anything. Then it hurts, hurts worse than anything Scott has felt before, and he’s not sure if he should scream or pray to pass out.

“Stiles, no!” Derek shouts, panicked.

Stiles eyes are going distant and Scott realizes that whatever is currently stabbing him in the freaking back is about to get blasted by a giant dose of Stilinski magic… which means that it’ll be the last magic he ever does. Scott can’t let that happen. Even if Stiles were to live through the ordeal, his magic means so much to him. All he’s ever wanted was to be an official emissary, to do good in the world with his talents, it’s why they’ve been best friends their whole life. Scott can’t let him sacrifice his magic or his life for him.

He’s not sure if he’s being impaled on claws (the most logical conclusion considering the night they’ve had) or if someone has brought in a sword (not outside the realm of possibility) or if it’s something else entirely, but he needs to handle it before Stiles can.

Scott throws himself forward and pivots, putting all those hours of ballet to good use, throwing himself up and to the side. Behind him stands the woman wolf from before, all long hair and hairier feet, she looks like she’s done ten rounds with a pack of wolves, but she’s still standing.

Hadn’t Erica, Boyd and Peter taken care of her? He knows everything was a bit of blur with all the fighting and yelling but… Erica and Boyd had come to help him after they’d killed her, he’s certain of it. Are they dealing with necromancers, now?!

Scott kicks out his leg to trip her and Derek pulls Stiles up and off the table, out of danger. Stiles’ eyes are still tracking their movement, and Scott tries to shake his head at him. He can handle this, he can.

Scott breathes in deeply through his nose, trying to find his center. He doesn’t want to kill her, he just needs to make her stop attacking so that Stiles won’t use his magic. Maybe they can talk to her, maybe she’ll be reasonable now that her pack is all dead.

“Kali, stop!” Aiden shouts, moving to join Scott.

She kicks her leg up, impossibly far, and smashes it against the side of Scott’s face. Maybe she’s not reasonable at all. Scott slams into Aiden sending them both sprawling. Luckily, Ethan had jumped out of the way in time, but his brother and Scott are now between him and Kali. Scott dares a look at Derek and Stiles and curses under his breath. Can’t they knock him out or something?

Crawling forward so he can stand he has to dodge another kick from Kali before he gains his feet. He can still feel the blood dripping down his back, beneath his shirt, and he winces as his shoulders bunch to push himself up.

Kali is swaying slightly on her feet, her face locked in a grimace, eyes darting around the room. Why didn’t she just run? Why follow them at all? His answers come when she screeches in fury and tries to launch herself at Peter.

Without thinking, Scott flings his body in her path. She’d have to go past Derek and Stiles to get to him, and Scott does not trust that Stiles will be able to help himself if Derek is even in the general area of danger. She snarls at him as their bodies collide and reflexively he reaches out to block her fangs as she tries to bite him.

His claws come back bloody and full. What has he done?

Chapter Text

Derek cradles Stiles in his arms as his newest beta fights for his life. He feels torn between protecting his pack and his mate. He should resent Stiles for keeping him from his duty as an alpha, but all he feels is fear and anger. They don’t deserve this.

Deaton has been making measured steps in their direction ever since Kali entered the room, but as she tries to get to Peter he backs off again. Derek wants to beg him to knock Stiles out like he offered before, but he doesn’t want to risk drawing attention to them.

It’s all over in a blink of an eye, Scott throws his claws up to keep Kali’s bite at bay and ends up with a fistful of her throat grasped in his hands. Already weakened from her earlier wounds she falls to the ground, gasping and gurgling, before dying.

Scott’s despair is so deep he can feel it through the bond even over Stiles’ pain and his own panic. The young beta, well, a beta no more, crumples to the ground, staring at his hand, now human, and Kali, silent and still on the wood floor.

“Scott,” Isaac breathes, finishing the last few steps to his side. “Scott breathe, it’s okay, look at me.”

Scott is not okay, and his betas must all sense his distress, as they start to crowd around him. Derek gently puts Stiles back down on the table, wincing at his low moaning.

“She was dead,” Erica says, disbelieving, “she was so weak, and then Peter killed her,” she says it like if she believes it enough it will be true.

Derek looks over his shoulder at his uncle, brow furrowing. Was Peter on their side? Did Peter have his own side? They might not get along as well as he’d liked, but Derek had always thought he could trust him. Now he’s not so sure.

“Mostly dead, I suppose,” Peter says, unconcerned, “I didn’t take the time to check for a pulse. My apologies.”

Scott doesn’t react to any of their words, his hands trembling in front of his face. Such a new beta has no business trying to navigate the power and responsibility that comes with being an alpha, Derek feels like a failure. He hasn’t been able to protect any of his pack in any way that matters.

“Well!” Peter says, clapping his hands together. “I should probably be going before the nemeton draws anymore nasties our way.”

He moves to stride from the room but Deaton grabs him by the back of the collar of his shirt, yanking him back.

“Was worth a try,” he smirks.

“There are things you must decide, Alpha Hale,” Deaton announces. “You have four alphas now connected to you, and two emissaries. An unorthodox situation I’m sure you know the druids will not sanction.”

“What’s left of them,” Ethan mutters, still standing guard over Danny.

“That is a dilemma,” Peter interjects, “there are more of us than there are of you.”

“You may have more in your numbers, but all the packs rely on the druids for aid. I would think carefully before crossing us.”

“I’d think carefully myself, about whether or not we’re going to let the druids keep running things,” Aiden hisses at him, hatred evident in his voice.

“I can trade you two sparks for safe passage,” Peter negotiates, “I’ll take my niece and you’ll recognize us as an offshoot of the Hale’s, as we are entitled, and you’ll allow my nephew to go home with his pack.”

“Stiles is not for sale!” Derek shouts.

“They’d make fine druids,” Peter wheedles, as if he didn’t hear Derek at all. "You can provide my new pack with an emissary and three betas of your choosing."

“He doesn’t speak for me,” Danny pants, tapping Ethan’s arm to help pull him up.

“I’m only thinking of what’s best for everyone,” Peter says, but doesn’t look away from Deaton. “You don’t know how to care for the boy, he could die without Deaton’s help, are you willing to risk that?”

It takes Derek a moment to realize that Peter is talking to him, or maybe him and Ethan.

“They just need rest,” he says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

“They need to learn control,” Peter counters.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Danny says, “the druids have already offered me a position, and I’m going to have to officially pass. I can teach Stiles control,” he says to Derek, “we don’t have to stay.”

Derek can hear the edge of panic under Danny’s words, he’s scared to stay, he’s asking Derek to help protect them. What’s more, Derek thinks he can feel a bit of Danny’s panic. Is Deaton right, has Stiles somehow connected them all? Or is he just imagining things?

“I’m the alpha. They’re just as connected to me as they are my nephew and these idiot children, and I say I’ll trade them for passage.”

Stiles coughs on the table and squeezes Derek’s forearm hard.

“Not connected to you, slimy bastard,” he wheezes.

He tries to lift his head to glare at Peter but the pain is too much and it thumps back against the table. Derek pulls pain until he feels woozy again and Stiles smiles up at him.

“Stiles is better at bond magic than anyone I know, if he says we’re not connected to Peter than we’re not. You try it Deaton, and you’ll regret it.”

Danny sways slightly, but stays upright.

“Nonsense, I was part of Derek’s pack, and by your logic, two alphas can coexist, obviously we’re all linked and I have just as much say in this as any of you.”

Peter flashes his eyes red at Danny, daring him to argue.

“I’m his mate, I have more say than you,” Aiden snarls, “and we’re not trading either of them. We’re taking the druids down.”

Derek flinches and Stiles winces under his suddenly too tight grip. What does he mean, he’s Stiles’ mate? Derek is Stiles’ mate! He felt it! He might have wanted to deny it before, but there’s no mistaking it now, he can feel Stiles like he’s a piece of him, they’re bound.

“I see, and what will you do once we’re gone? Will the packs return to their petty grievance, violence at every turn? With no one to train your emissaries, how much knowledge will be lost, how much will be hoarded by individuals, useless when it’s needed most? And your betas, will you go back to trying to teach them control on your own, after the bite? Making guesswork of who will survive and who cannot withstand it? We do more for you than you know, little wolf.”

Deaton’s voice is low, and dangerous. Derek is still reeling at Aiden’s claim over Stiles but even he takes a step away from the druid.

“You give them useless wolves, look at him!” Ethan shouts, pointing at Scott, “handpicked because he doesn’t want to fight, you say it’s to keep us safe, to get rid of the violence in the packs, but all you’re doing is cutting the legs out from underneath us!”

Scott doesn’t seem to hear the accusation, head cradled in Isaac’s chest, eyes still staring into the middle distance. He was hesitant in a fight, Derek admits, but he hasn’t had any real training. Did the druids pick him because he would be so resistant to violence?

“And the emissaries!” Ethan continues shouting, “you give them just enough information and training to make them look useful but all you’re doing is training a legion of spies and pawns! They have to rely on you for any real help, even the hunters have more complete bestiaries than the emissaries you turn out! Anyone with real talent you recruit to your compound! And they’re inside all of the packs, ready to maneuver them wherever you want them! You have a chokehold on all of the North American packs and it ends now.”

An hour ago Derek would have called Ethan a raving lunatic but now… he looks down at Stiles, whimpering in pain, unable to use his own magic and Scott on the floor, devastated by his own actions. He needs to step up, make a decision, not fall back into his old habits of just getting by. He’s an alpha, a damn good one most days, and it’s up to him to pick a side.

Chapter Text

A fist goes whizzing by Scott’s head, but he’s able to dodge milliseconds before it makes contact. His breathing is labored, sweat beading on his brow, but he stays alert, focused. The next blow comes from behind, but he’s senses it in time, and he tucks his body forward, rolling across the grass.

He takes a page from Stiles’ book and hops to his feet and starts sprinting away from his pursuers. When in doubt, get out, is Stiles’ motto. The treeline is quickly approaching, so he veers to the left, chancing a look over his shoulder.

Erica and Boyd have split off to flank him, which is expected. They work well in tandem, but after sparring with them a few times their patterns have become clear and easy to read. Isaac is a wild card, sometimes charging head on and other times laying traps you don’t notice until it’s too late. Scott is glad that the other alphas are sitting this one out, because while the betas leave him sore and bloody, at least he has a chance.

Derek is a sneaky little shit, and relentless on top of it. When he sets aside time to help Scott with his combat training Scott always ends up tap out much sooner than he planned. He considers it a win when he can evade Derek for longer than ten minutes. Ethan and Aiden work really similar to Boyd and Erica except they have an added layer of some kind of twin telepathy, and also can turn into like a transformer wolf? It’s insane, and Scott does not enjoy it.

Luckily Ethan and Aiden only come around when Danny is working Stiles through an exercise he needs a werewolf for. Aiden always looks sad when Stiles does magic, and he tells Scott one day over wolfsbane laced drinks that Stiles used to be able to do so much more. They all worry if he’ll ever get better, back to where he was before.

Stiles himself is distant after joining the pack. He sticks close to Danny and only joins the pack for cuddles and bonding when someone goes and gets him and makes him. Most nights he crashes in Aiden’s room, but some nights he spends in Scott and Isaac’s on the couch. They all make sure to touch him enough to make him smell like pack.

The new alpha powers are hard to navigate, he’s suddenly stronger and faster and more resilient than before, but also awkward in the new strength and speed. Scott barely had time to get used to regular werewolf abilities before the alpha ones were dumped on him. Everyone does their best to help him through it, training with him and being there for him and putting up with him when he gets moody or territorial.

Derek tries to counsel him the best he can. He’s gone through the alpha change himself, afterall, though his was handed down to him rather than stolen. Sometimes Scott wakes up at night screaming, remembering the feel of Kali’s throat opening up underneath his claws and that first rush of power. He feels deeply ashamed of how much he enjoyed it before he really understood what had happened.

Aiden helps by telling him stories about how Kali killed her whole pack and Isaac helps by running to his room when he shouts at night. Stiles teaches him how to control his dreams with lucid dreaming and Danny makes him a special to help him sleep. Everyone else helps by treating him like normal, and giving him time.

Scott eyes a low hanging branch to his right and slows to let Erica catch up a bit. Once he’s sure he has her where he wants her, he grabs the branch and lets it go as she moves to tackle him, smacking her in the face and sending her sprawling to the ground. They have to stop training because everyone is laughing so hard.

He worries about Stiles more than he should and feels guilty about it. Stiles might be his mate, but he doesn’t owe Aiden anything, and Aiden doesn’t have any real claim over him, not like Derek does. Stiles puts up with his hovering and mothering, though, and Aiden is grateful for it.

Living in a new territory after being on the run for so long is strange. Stiles eases the transition without meaning to with the bonds he’s made. The land accepts Ethan and Aiden gladly, and they pick apartments on the lower floor once Peter moves out. Aiden won’t admit it, but sometimes he misses the small clearing where Stiles and he spent so many hours alone together.

They’ve never had betas themselves, so it’s not as hard to integrate as it could be. Derek treats them as equals but so do the others, more like family than someone they owe deference to. This suits Aiden just fine.

Danny lets them watch their exercises most days, and Aiden is glad for the distraction. Stiles is so amazing, he’s always known that he has a brilliant mind, and he’s grown accustomed to his sarcastic sense of humor, but it’s amazing watching him push through the pain and fatigue to rehabilitate his spark.

He wishes he could drum up romantic feelings for him, to give him a fighting chance when it’s time to dissolve one of the mating bonds, but he can’t. Stiles is wonderful and resilient, patient and kind, everything you could ask for in a mate, but he’s still a man, and Aiden can’t make himself want him.

It probably wouldn’t make much of a difference even if he could, though. Stiles spends much of his time staring up longingly at the tall windows in Derek’s loft apartment Aiden wonders how he doesn’t have a permanent kink in his neck. Aiden tries to corner Derek a few times, ask him why he’s avoiding Stiles, but Derek is a master at evasion. Aiden soon finds out that if Derek doesn’t want to talk about something, you can’t make him.

Aiden tries to make up for Derek’s absence but he doesn’t think it works very well. Stiles doesn’t complain, of course, if he weren’t a wolf he wouldn’t know that Stiles smells like rejection and sadness all the time. At first he tries to respect his privacy because Stiles thinks it’s quote “super invasive” for the wolves to comment on his scent and the emotions they’re broadcasting. He can only take so many afternoons of Stiles trying to relearn his spark while his heart beats double fast and his smell wraps everyone around him in a general malaise before he’s organizing pack movie nights with lots of ice cream included.

When Aiden isn’t worrying about Stiles or about how much he’s worrying about Stiles, he worries about Ethan. His brother spends most of his time wherever Danny is and makes even less effort than Stiles to join in pack activities. Aiden likes it here, with these people, and he wants Ethan to like it, too.

Ethan argues that once Stiles is all patched up and ready for his official emissary duties they won’t need Danny anymore, and by extension, them. That’s when Aiden realizes he can partly solve both problems at once.

It’s not lost on Stiles that Aiden waits until he’s comfy in his Hulk pajama bottoms under the giant comforter Scott lent him on the couch before asking if they can talk. Stiles is happiest when he’s coziest so he’s instantly on guard, but figures he can’t really say no.

Ethan is out with Danny, they like to disappear sometimes for alone time but Stiles doesn’t know where they go. He figures Danny deserves a few secrets to himself seeing as he lives with a bunch of living lie detectors.

“I’m worried about Ethan,” Aiden starts after Stiles moves his feet so they can share the couch.

“What about Ethan?” Stiles wishes he had something to do with his hands, he hates serious talk and he’d feel better with something to fidget with.

“He doesn’t feel like part of the pack, he thinks that once Danny finishes helping you fix your spark you guys are going to kick us out.”

“What? That’s stupid! You’re as much pack as I am!”

“Even when we dissolve the mating bond?” Aiden’s voice is quiet, and he seems unsure.

“Even if we dissolve the mating bond, you’re still my pack. If the Hale pack wants me, well, we’re a package deal. I mean, as long as you guys want to be a part of the pack, you could leave now if you wanted to. Danny isn’t like, obligated to stay and fix me.”

Aiden’s face breaks open in a relieved smile and Stiles wants to ruffle his hair.

“Were you really the one worried about it?”

“No, well, I mean, I was a little worried about the whole bond thing, but Ethan really is having trouble fitting in because he thinks it’s all short term. Do you think you could talk to him?”

“Yeah man, I mean no one should be miserable when they could just ask, he’s being dumb, I’m sorry he’s making you worry. I’ll talk to him and Danny tomorrow and let them know they’re always welcome where I am.”

Aiden cocks an eyebrow at him, a very judgemental eyebrow at that, and Stiles gives him a puzzled look in return.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“Mmm, just a bit of hypocrisy there, by your mouth.”

“What? I’m not being a hypocrite! How am I being a hypocrite? Your face is a hypocrite!”

“Why is Ethan dumb for not asking if he’s pack but you’re brilliant for not asking Derek if your mates?” Aiden asks, jumping off the couch before Stiles can swipe at him.

“That’s not the same at all!”

“How is it not the same? Am I your backup plan? Are you just going to moon over Derek until he gets sick of you and kicks us all out? Because I need to know these things.”

Stiles feels a flash of guilt at that, he hadn’t thought of it that way. And to be honest, he had been treating Aiden like a backup plan. A, if Derek doesn’t want me then I’ll go make my own pack, plan. God, he was being shitty. Aiden just smirks at him through his little revelation which just pisses him off.

Stiles throws a pillow at his face and stalks off to find Derek.

Derek sighs, shuffling paperwork around his desk, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat in the hallway. He’s been walking past the door and stopping, before moving on again, for almost an hour. Derek hopes he comes in soon, before he goes insane from the pacing.

He hasn’t gotten to spend as much time with the Hale Emissary since they all came home. He’s not officially the official emissary, not until he gets his magic back under control and they can do the proper rituals, rituals that had been warped and truncated by the druids for decades. Still, the pack treats him with respect and deference, and if a problem were to arise where the pack needed someone to work in the capacity of emissary with another pack Derek would send Stiles. It’s official as it needs to be for now.

Stiles has worked incredibly hard to control his spark, Derek would never admit to it, but he spends most of his free time checking in on him, watching his lessons with Danny, admiring his drive and persistence. Even when he’s exhausted and reeks of pain and frustration he keeps going, sometimes long past when Danny has told him he can stop. He’s both nothing like he expected and exactly how he knew he was.

The weeks locked away together in a hotel room hadn’t prepared him for Stiles’ determination, but he supposes it was there in his stubbornness all along. The vitality he’d glimpsed in their bedroom romps is reflected in his magic. He thought he’d known Stiles before, and that he was too good for the likes of Derek, but now he’s sure of it. He’s an excellent spark and an even better person.

Which is partly why Derek has been avoiding him. He’s certain that all this time with the pack, the new pack, oddly shaped and going through growing pains, has shown him that he is too good for this life. Convinced that it’s only a matter of time before Stiles sits him down and tells him that he’s leaving with Aiden for a real pack, he’s kept his head down and skirted long conversations with him. In the end, he’s a coward.

Derek plows through a few more minutes of paperwork, trying desperately to ignore the too fast heartbeat in the hallway, trying to make more headway. He knows Laura and his mom are doing most of the heavy lifting in getting the druid campus shut down, or at the very least, destabilized. They have the contacts, afterall, the networking necessary to enact such a large scale change. Derek just does the work he can that they send to him, and wishes he could do more.

He’s just about to get up and confront Stiles in the hallway when he knocks softly on the door. Derek clears his throat and tells him to come in but Stiles still takes a moment before entering. His scent has a tinge of anxiety to it and Derek braces for the inevitable. It’s kind of him to worry about his feelings, he thinks, but in the long run it won’t make much difference. He just hopes he rips the bandaid off quickly.

“Do you have a minute?”

Stiles is clearly making an effort not to fidget, his fingers twitching at his sides, back straight. His hair is getting shaggy but he’s shaved recently. Derek is glad he’s not wearing that stupid beanie Aiden bought him, that makes him look like a hipster.

“Of course.”

“Right, well, it’s just, I kind of feel like maybe you’re avoiding me?”

Stiles is as observant as always. Derek had assumed, hoped really, that Stiles would be so busy with his training that he wouldn’t notice. Then again, if he wanted to dump him he’d probably been looking for a quiet opportunity like this for a while.

“I’ve been busy,” Derek hedges, “and I thought you’d want time to focus on your lessons.”

“I do! I mean, of course I do, but, it’s just… the mating bond… it’ll fade if… I mean, if that’s what you want then…”

Stiles trails off, fingers released from his sides, fiddling with each other now. Derek hadn’t really thought much about the mating bond fading. He should have, seeing how wrapped up he is in Stiles’ other mating bite and it’s non disappearance.

“Is that what you want?” Derek hears himself say, like someone else has taken over his body.

He can’t believe he’s said it, though it was the right thing to do. He didn’t mean to give Stiles the opening he needs to dissolve their relationship officially, but he supposes he’s tired of the waiting, of the hope.

“No,” Stiles says, and Derek’s gaze jumps to his, “it’s not what I want, but I don’t want to trap you in a mating bond if it’s not what you want. Danny says that soon I’ll be able to try manipulating bonds again and…”

Stiles breaks off, clearly frustrated.

“I’m not trapped, Stiles.” Derek says, wanting to stand and hug him. “Do you feel trapped? Are you happy here?”

“Like here here? In Sleepy Hollow? Or here in the pack? Or here… you know, with us?”

Derek cocks an eyebrow, letting Stiles make his own decision on which to answer.

“I like the pack, I’d like if it could stay like this, but I know that’s not up to me. And I like being in California, close enough for my dad to visit. I miss home, but I know that I can’t go back to Beacon Hills until I can control my magic, or until we can figure out how to ward our nemeton…” Stiles bites his lip, like he’s thinking over what he’s going to say next, “and I like being near you, I just wish we could spend more time together.”

Stiles looks like he’s bracing for impact, arms crossed across his midsection, shuffling his feet. Derek takes a deep breath.

“I… would like that, too.”

“Really?”

Stiles says it quickly and then seems embarrassed, so Derek rushes to think of something to make him feel less awkward.

“There’s a lot of work to be done but I think we can find some time for ourselves.”

He rubs his hand down Stiles’ arm and feels Stiles relax. He knows the pack has been scent marking him often, but he’d been holding himself back. Now he lets his hand linger, liking the way their smells intermingle.

Stiles slowly brings his own hand up, looking at Derek questioningly, before rubbing the inside of his wrist against Derek’s neck. Derek’s breathe catches and without realizing it, he crowds Stiles against the wall, grabbing his face in his hands and kissing him.

He pushes his body against Stiles and smiles as he gives out a soft sigh underneath him, his cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. Derek dips down again, allowing the kiss to go deeper, before Stiles pushes at his chest.

“No,” Stiles groans, hands shoving lightly at Derek.

Derek stops immediately, taking three steps back. Had he read it wrong? Oh God, had he forced himself on Stiles? Derek feels a little sick, and keeps backing away.

“No, I didn’t mean,” Stiles groans in frustration, “I meant we need to talk before the kissing. The last time I thought we were on the same page with the kissing you gave me a mating bite and then abandoned me in an alleyway!”

Shame washes over Derek and he nods, stepping back further. Stiles is right, he’s no good at this, he shouldn’t even be trying to pretend like he is.

“No, no, no, don’t you dare! Mating bite good, abandoning bad, don’t you walk away from me!”

Derek freezes midstep, feeling caught.

“You can’t just keep kissing me and expect me to know what it means! Do you want the mating bond? Do you think keeping the mating bond is the only way to keep me around? Are you just fucking with me? What?!”

“I… don’t know what to say.” Derek’s shoulders slump and Stiles groans in frustration.

“I don’t want you to tell me what I want to hear, Derek, I want the truth. I need to know where I stand, what’s going on with us. I need to know if you want me to be your mate, or just your emissary, or, or… none of the above.”

Stiles looks vulnerable and hurt and like he’s expecting Derek to reject him and send him away and that stings. Derek knows he’s fucked up before, but he wants to do better, be better for Stiles. He needs to stop being afraid that he’s not good enough, or that it’s not worth trying if he can’t be perfect before he loses him.

Derek steps forward again and takes Stiles’ hand in his own. He looks down into Stiles’ scared face and fights his own terror.

“Spark Stilinski, I would like permission to formally court you as my mate and emissary,” he says, voice formal and stiff.

Stiles stares at him for a moment like he’s trying to decipher what he’s said before a giant grin breaks out of his face.

“Yes, you idiot, I mean,” Stiles clears his throat and puts on a mock serious face, “Alpha Hale, I would be honored to accept your suit. Now hurry up and fuck me.”

Derek laughs as he kisses Stiles back into the wall.

Chapter Text

The pack is gathered in the large yard, mingling with friends and family amidst a sea of decorations, tables, and chairs.

Lydia barks into an earpiece about the placement of a keg of wolfsbane laced ale wrapped in a white lacy ribbon. Isaac scurries across the lawn holding ten heavy wooden chairs topped with white bows, swaying precariously with his gait, clearing a path to his destination.

Laura laughs with a wine glass in hand, a pretty pink sundress offsetting her dark hair, her husband at her elbow. John struggles with a cuff link and Boyd steps in to help him snap it, the sheriff smiling his thanks. Ethan is setting up a long table with snack foods and keeps smacking Danny’s hand away, who just laughs and darts around his mate, while Aiden rolls his eyes at them from where he stands talking to Jackson, who’s plane landed earlier this morning.

Talia clears her throat from the back porch as Derek steps out, the tips of his ears pink but otherwise looking calm and collected as always. His black tuxedo that Erica had forced him into is hugging the curves of his muscled thighs and arms, no doubt making him horribly uncomfortable. The assembled packs, family, and friends all cheer and clap has he steps down the ‘aisle’ that Lydia has created with white rose petals. Derek smiles, feeling warm and content surrounded by all of the people he loves. He stops between two trees and waits.

Next Stiles steps through the doorway, grinning widely at everyone, with Scott and Erica at his heels. They’ve stuffed him into a matching tuxedo and gelled his hair up, and Derek knows that Stiles is using at least half his focus to keep from running his hands through it and ruining it. Stiles grabs his hand when he reaches him, smiling up at him, his heart beating impossibly fast but smelling of joy. Erica walks to stand to Derek’s left, while Scott stands on Stiles’ right. Stiles grasps Derek’s wrist with his hand and Derek does the same in return as Danny steps between them with the binding ribbon. Talia and John stand together and face the gathering of people, and wait for them to quiet.

Talia’s clear voice rings out across the yard.

“Today we have gathered to join Alpha Derek Hale and Emissary Stiles Stilinski in a lifetime mating bond. Together they will protect each other, the Hale pack, and all of the humans in their territory. They promise to share in all of life’s joys and sorrows, to listen and speak with compassion and understanding, to never make assumptions.”

Stiles winks at Derek at the private joke between them as Talia continues.

“Derek promises to cherish Stiles even when he hogs the covers or makes the whole house stink like magic.”

Stiles snorts at Derek’s addition to his vows, glad that he’s not the only one who finagled a bit. Derek smiles at him softly, that same soft smile that made Stiles fall in love with him in the first place, as Danny folds the white ribbon over their hands, beginning the mating bond ritual. The bond rings clear between them as they both reach for it.

After a moment John steps forward to speak for his son.

“Today we are gathered to witness and celebrate the union of Mieczyslaw Stiles Stilinksi,” he begins, and Stiles groans loudly behind him, causing everyone in the crowd to laugh, “and Derek Hale. They promise to love and support each other, to celebrate in each others victories and comfort each other in their failures. They promise to continue to grow together and to keep pop cultural references to a minimum before coffee.”

Derek’s laugh is loud and bright, his eyes crinkling at the edges, as he stares down at his mate. Danny adds another knot to the ribbon before stepping back and conjuring what appear to be flickering fireflies that dissipate after a moment. Stiles and him had decided on this low energy spell to end the ceremony together, and the effect is just as beautiful as he’d imagined.

Stiles can’t see the bond like he did when he was full of nemeton magic, but he can sense it almost as well. Derek gasps as it really settles into place and Stiles grins wickedly at him, thinking of how sensing Derek’s emotions will make sex so much more fun. The tips of Derek’s ears pink as he senses Stiles’ salacious intent through the bond and Stiles laughs out loud. He knows the bond will settle with time and eventually they’ll be able to filter out every emotion but for now it all feels present and loud and wonderful. Like he and Derek are all mixed together, with no way of knowing where they begin and end.

Affection and amusement plays through from Derek’s end and Stiles feels warm, safe, and loved. Stiles rises on his tiptoes to kiss Derek softly on the mouth and the crowd cheers, and Stiles uses the momentary chaos to whisper into Derek’s ear.

Next to them, Scott coughs, turning beet red, as Derek gives a low groan of annoyance before sweeping Stiles up off his feet and throwing him, laughing, over his shoulder.

Isaac sidles up next to Scott as the newly mated pair disappear into the house, wrapping their pinkies together.

“What’d he say?” Isaac asks as the crowd begins to break up and head for the food, someone starting up the sound system.

Scott, still a very bright shade of scarlet, mumbles, “think you got your money’s worth, Mr. Hale?”

Erica, who’d been chatting with Boyd a few steps away, cracks up laughing, earning her a few odd looks from the visitors from other packs, but it’s infectious and soon all of the Hale-Stilinski pack are laughing. Even Boyd can’t keep a few chuckles from escaping as Jackson stomps over demanding to be let in on the joke.

The guests of honor eventually return, freshly scrubbed for the werewolves sensitive noses, and glowing with happiness to spend time with their friends. Even though they’re an odd pack, with too many alphas and emissaries, the bonds that hold them together are strong. Stiles knows that the journey forward will be full of hard work and compromise but looking at Derek and their pack he knows - he wouldn’t have it any other way.