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"The Turner pack is sending a delegation." Derek grumbled. His hair was ruffled in what could have been artful spikes, three hours ago before Derek had been chased through the woods by some four legged creature currently terrorizing Beacon Hills. After the sweat and frustration, his hair resembled nothing more than a mess.
"They couldn't have chosen a better time?" Stiles rasped through his sore throat. Half asking, half sarcastic as he thought about the normal preparations for a delegations such as the Turners.
"Of course not." Derek sighed, opening his front door. "I might have the time to appear competent otherwise."
Stiles, making a bee line for the kitchen and water, paused. "You're competent." he protested.
The Alpha huffed. "Not according to the last three pack negotiations." Stiles rolled his eyes.
"The Beckers tried to eat me, because I'm human. The Gilmores thought we were all sleeping together, because you're not what they consider 'engaged'. The Reece-Smyth pack were alright, except for their crazy Alpha Queen, who genuinely thought she ruled the world. So," Stiles gulped the water and gasped. "None of those I would consider your fault."
Derek shrugged. "They still fell apart."
"They didn't fall apart." Stiles rolled his eyes. "They worked out just fine."
"Because we either ran them out of town, or you negotiated." Throwing himself down on the sofa, Derek closed his eyes.
"Yes, but last week a Dragon almost set my hair on fire, so it's your turn to negotiate." Stiles laughed.
Derek sighed again. "One of these times I'll get it right." He shuffled his legs as Stiles came to sit.
Stiles snuggled in next to him and pulled out his phone. "But before the Turners get here and start making an even bigger mess of things, lets figure out what this Thing is."