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Stiles was a talker. Excessively so, especially about the things he cared about.

Derek was silent – some called it moody, grumpy, and broody, but Derek had always thought that was mean-spirited.

He was especially silent when it came to real, deep emotions.

The problem with this combination, Derek thought in retrospect, was that while he knew that Stiles expressed his emotions openly, Stiles had had no way of knowing that the more Derek cared for somebody, the less he was able to actually voice it, too overwhelmed and intimidated by the intensity of his emotions.

Of course Derek’s misplaced confidence that he knew how Stiles would react in any given situation had led to the whole mess in the first place and as the agonizing pain finally dulled again and he had a chance to catch his breath, Derek’s tired mind went back over the past 37 weeks, wondering what things would have been like if he had just – asked.

===============

37 Weeks Ago

When Stiles came home from university for the last time, in the summer between his Junior and Senior year at Berkeley, Derek was ready.

Or, to be more precise, as ready as one could be who was about to offer his love to the single most important person in his life.

Derek smiled nervously as he waited in front of the Stilinski residence, hiding in the bushes like a stalker while he listened to the Sheriff asking Stiles about his semester, his plans for the summer, and his non-existent love life.

Laura would have probably kicked his butt for thinking in such sappy terms, but then his fierce, beautiful, and absolutely overprotective sister had always rejected the idea of mating, arguing that there were cases of mates that were made for each other as far as their wolves were concerned but absolutely despised each other when the human side took over.

Mating, Laura had argued, gave you no option to back out, no second chance at love unless one mate died a gruesome, early death, which would send the surviving mate into such a spiral of grief and devastation, that mating again was out of the question anyways.

To Laura, binding yourself to one person for the rest of your life was foolish, since one never knew what life held in store for them.

Derek had shared some of her concerns, but then he had met Stiles and though it pained him to think so, he had finally realized that Laura would have sung a different tune about mating, had she been lucky enough to actually find the one person for her in her much too short lifetime.

He was also convinced that the stories about mates hating each other were either made up or cases of confused individuals, who had made a grievous error and mated themselves to the wrong person by accident.

It had taken Derek a while to accept his wolf’s choice and when he had finally connected the dots he had been terrified.

Terrified that the lanky, energetic teenage boy that he had felt drawn to from the moment he had first tossed Scott’s useless inhaler at the two trespassers on his property would reject him, since he was human and therefore not able to feel the pull of mate inside of him.

Terrified that he would be taking advantage of someone so young, by forcing him to spend the rest of his life with a bitter, older man with more baggage than anyone should have.

Terrified that Sheriff Stilinski would stock up on wolfsbane bullets if he ever found out about the fact that werewolves mated for life and – once they had identified their mate – would do everything they could to win their affection, regardless of whether said mate was a teenager in high school or a consenting adult.

Of course the last part was a myth, born by authors with less self-control than Derek, who had successfully curbed his urges to claim his mate for many years.

First he had waited for Stiles to come of age.

Then he had waited for Stiles to finish high school.

On the evening of Stiles’ first departure to Berkeley Derek had shut himself in his bedroom and eviscerated his pillow, his wolf howling at him to go after his mate, to prevent him from meeting somebody else while he was away.

It would have been only fair though, after all, Derek had had relationships, or at least sex, with other people before Stiles.

And though the thought had pained him deeply and left him unable to sleep for many weeks at a time, Derek had waited.

Then Stiles had come home from university, still single and still of age and when he had barged into Derek’s loft that evening, yelled “Derek! I missed you!” and thrown his long arms around him, Derek had almost given in and kissed him.

Unfortunately, the rest of the pack had spilled through the door seconds later and Derek had realized that Stiles had simply decided to use Derek’s home as a ‘School’s Out For the Pack’-Welcome Party location and so he had once again ignored his feelings.

Stiles had spent much more time with Derek that summer than usual, hanging out at his place to watch movies, talk, or just take naps on Derek’s new and comfortable couch.

Their banter had been easy and at times it had almost felt as if they were in a relationship, but Stiles had never so much as touched him and Derek had decided to wait longer, certain that Stiles was maybe not quite there yet, but definitely well on his way.

He had also not been ‘quite there yet’ the following summer, but the day before he had taken off for his Junior year, Stiles had installed Skype on Derek’s computer and they had talked via webcam almost every week since.

Two weeks ago Stiles had been stressed out about finals, especially about a paper – about soul mates of all things – for his creative writing class and he had lamented to Derek for over half an hour about the professor’s seemingly ridiculous standards.

“Honestly Derek, I really don’t see why I have to write an opus about soul-mates. If you know that someone is the one, you know, there’s really not much else to say. Don’t you agree?” he had finally concluded and Derek’s heart had stopped for a fraction of a second.

A soul mate wasn’t a werewolf mate – Derek actually scoffed at the notion of soul-sharing or whatever that soul mate thing was supposed to mean – but Stiles had sounded so sure, so aware of what he was saying.

Derek had been certain that he ‘was there.’

Therefore, he was currently hiding in the bushes, waiting impatiently until Stiles had finally gone up to his room to make his presence known.

Declaring your love for someone should probably not start by almost giving him or her a heart attack, but before Derek could start apologizing Stiles already recovered, waving his concern away with a soft laugh.

“Seriously Derek, I really thought I had trained you to use doors at this point. My dad actually likes you now, it’s not like he’s going to slam the door in your face,” he grinned and Derek exhaled loudly, relief flooding him at the realization that his mate’s family would accept him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just … I really need to talk to you Stiles,” he finally got out, feeling annoyed with himself for once again being unable to say what he actually wanted to say.

Stiles stood up from his chair and walked over to him, looking at him with a fond smile, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling when Derek bit his lower lip anxiously.

“I really need to talk to you, too, Derek,” he said softly and Derek managed a half-smile.

“You go first then,” he said but Stiles shook his head, the expression on his face still tender.

“You actually climbed through my window to talk to me, I think you should go first,” he replied and Derek took a deep breath.

“I … Stiles, I … I missed you.”

That had not been what he had wanted to say.

Granted, it was true, he had missed Stiles horribly, but when he had rehearsed his speech in the bushes – yes, it did not get less creepy the more he thought about it – he had opened with something like “I want to be with you” or “I want to be yours”, possibly even “I love you,” convinced that it would probably be best to get straight to the point.

Stiles, however, really was his mate in every sense of the word and therefore apparently able to understand what Derek was trying to say.

“About freakin’ time!” the human exclaimed before he pulled Derek towards him and Derek only had a second to bathe in the warmth and comfort of his mate’s embrace before he was entirely occupied with the sensations that came from kissing his mate.

Objectively, it was clumsy, a little too much teeth on both ends, and Stiles tasted like Indian curry, but Derek’s wolf ignored all of that, intent on drinking in the sweet taste of what he had missed out on for so long.

Derek’s wolf was a hopelessly romantic sap.

Human Derek, however, was suddenly and forcefully turned on, having denied himself for so long that he was unable to wait any longer and luckily Stiles seemed to be on the same page when he began to tug at Derek’s shirt.

They were stripped down to their boxers in less than thirty seconds and had already tumbled unto the bed before the rational part of Derek’s hopelessly over-stimulated brain won over for long enough to make him hesitate.

“Stiles, I …” he began, unsure of how he was supposed to convey to Stiles that there was no going back from this, that they shouldn’t rush into this like fools, but Stiles kissed him again, his long fingers softly stroking Derek’s cheek.

“I know Derek,” he said between kisses and Derek became pliant under his touch, arching his back off the mattress to press their chests together as closely as possible.

Slowly, as if he was waiting for Derek to stop him after all, Stiles began to trail his hand down Derek’s stomach, hesitating over his navel for a couple of seconds before he tugged down the waistband of Derek’s boxers, exposing his rock-hard erection.

“I … I might not be too good at this from this angle,” Stiles smiled apologetically as he wrapped his hand around it, carefully moving it up and down experimentally.

“I love you”, Derek wanted to say, but even in his arousal-daze he was aware that saying it for the first time while one person was clutching a penis as if it was a dangerous snake was probably not appropriate.

“I trust you,” he said instead, and really, for him that was pretty much the equivalent of ‘I love you’, a fact that obviously did not go unnoticed by Stiles, who inhaled loudly and tightened his grip, bending down to kiss all over Derek’s chest and stomach.

“Can I?” he asked and Derek nodded, trying to remember what he had read about male-on-male intercourse back when he had first realized his mate was not a woman.

He had no clue if he was a top or a bottom – a distinction that was apparently very important to some people – but based on what he had read it would probably be more enjoyable for both of them if Stiles topped the first time, since Derek wasn’t quite sure if he could reign in his wolf during mating-bite sex and there was less injury potential for the human if he was on top.

“Take me,” he whispered and Stiles gasped, letting go of Derek’s penis as he surged up and kissed Derek again.

“Waited so long for this …” he murmured into Derek’s mouth and Derek smiled against his lips, his arms snaking around the slighter man to press them even closer together.

“Do you … do you have …?” he asked and Stiles nodded, his heart rate spiking when he rummaged through his bedside drawer.

His soon-to-be mate smelled nervous and it was making Derek’s wolf whine, urging him to soothe his beloved’s anxieties.

“Let me,” he said gently, taking the lube out of Stiles’ shaking hands.

Derek had experimented with that part quite a lot during the past four years and his movements were swift and secure as he teased his rim, probing and stretching, scissoring his fingers while Stiles watched with rapt fascination and unmistakable arousal.

“Shit!” he suddenly cursed under his breath and Derek stilled, not sure why Stiles suddenly smelled so anxious.

“What’s wrong?” he asked and Stiles shook his head.

“You don’t really need condoms for masturbating,” he muttered apologetically and Derek propped himself up on his elbows, fixing Stiles with a serious expression.

“I am a werewolf, I can’t give you anything … of course I’d understand if you don’t want to do this without …” he began, but Stiles interrupted him, rather effectively one might add, by pressing a kiss to the tip of his shaft.

“I want you so bad it hurts,” he said firmly and Derek, who could detect no lie in his heartbeat, finally accepted that this was true, right, and really going to happen.

“I want you,” he confirmed and Stiles grabbed the lube bottle with shaking fingers, slathering his own erection in the slick substance.

He was quite generous with it, probably a bit of an overkill, too, and Derek hoped that the Sheriff wouldn’t see the sheets before they had a chance to wash them, but then Stiles hooked his legs over his wide shoulders and bent forward, positioning his length at Derek’s entrance while the other hand stroked Derek’s side.

“Yeah?” he asked, his gaze fixed on Derek’s and Derek nodded, biting his lower lip to suppress a cry when Stiles entered him, both at the somewhat rough suddenness and the sensation of finally, finally being united with his mate like that.

Stiles had stopped moving but he was panting harshly, obviously unsure how slow or fast he should go and Derek thrust his hips upwards, urging Stiles to start moving again.

His heart was pounding in his chest when Stiles bottomed out and craned his neck to kiss Derek again.

Their scents were already beginning to intermingle and the wolf was howling inside of Derek, urging him to claim his mate, to make him his forever.

If Stiles had been a werewolf he would have bitten his neck, but Stiles couldn’t heal and Derek was too far gone to trust himself to be gentle, so he fixed his gaze on the soft skin just below Stiles’ collarbone and when Stiles thrust into him again he arched his back and bit down, not quite hard enough to draw blood but unmistakable in intention.

Stiles threw his head back and sobbed, in pleasure, rather than in pain, Derek was relieved to note and his last, stubborn doubt of whether Stiles was confusing this with something it was not was pushed aside when Stiles bent his head and bit into Derek’s shoulder, groaning at the back of his throat as he came inside of him.

Mate, mine, ours, the wolf triumphed inside of Derek and he came as well, a loud moan escaping him that Stiles quickly muffled with a kiss.

They were both shaking and panting when Stiles collapsed on top of him and for a while neither said anything.

Derek couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy and fulfilled in his life and he traced gentle circles on Stiles’ back, lapping at the bite to soothe it as Stiles’ breathing returned to normal.

“That was …” Stiles began and Derek held a finger to his lips, for once willing to use his words instead of his silence.

“It was all I ever wanted,” he said quietly and Stiles smiled brightly, before his eyes began to fall shut.

They had the rest of their lives to talk and so Derek decided to give in to the sleepiness that came after orgasm as well, drawing Stiles into his arms after he had slipped out of him.

They probably should have bothered to clean up at least a little, but in that moment, with his mate finally in his arms, Derek didn’t think he would ever be bothered by anything again.

===============

The first sensation Derek experienced the next morning was stickiness. Dried, crusty stickiness to be precise, coating his belly, the inside of his thighs, and the sheets he was lying on.

The second sensation he experienced was a feeling of loss and his eyes shot open when he realized what was missing.

Stiles wasn’t in the room and Derek relaxed only slightly when he could hear the voices of both Stilinski men coming from downstairs.

A moment later he could hear Stiles trampling up the stairs in his trademark elegant fashion and Derek sat up in the bed, wincing when he realized that he was currently glued to both the blanket above and the sheet under him.

He was trying to scrape off some of the flaky semen from his stomach when Stiles, wearing only a robe and his boxers, barged into the room, looking and smelling panicky.

“You have to get up, right now!” he rushed out and Derek blinked.

When he blinked again it felt like he was being punched in the gut at the same time and he was almost sure that the soft, pitiful sound that had just echoed through the room had come from him.

Stiles, however, was already hectically rummaging through his dresser and had apparently not heard it.

“Seriously Derek, I mean it, this is no drill, get a move on!” he threw over his shoulder when he rushed out of the room and towards the bathroom, arms filled with his clothes.

Derek had no idea what was happening, or why, all he knew was that he felt as if he was being torn apart from the inside out.

His mate was throwing him out, not even giving him an explanation as to why he was rejecting him, and the pain of it was unbearable.

Derek loved the human more than anything, he would respect his decision – even if he currently felt like it would quite literally kill him – but he couldn’t help the soft whimpers escaping him as he gathered up his clothes, dressed as quickly as possible, and then climbed out of the window.

The moment his feet hit the ground he ran, faster than he had ever run before in his eagerness to put as much distance between him and Stiles as possible.

His wolf was crying out at him, berating him for leaving his mate alone on the morning after their bonding and Derek knew that he had to stay away, aware that he would not be able to stop himself from seeking Stiles’ warmth again if he allowed himself to get too close.

He was sweating when he burst through the doors of his loft and it was only in the safety of his home that Derek allowed his legs to give out from under him as he curled up into a little ball on the floor and howled, interrupted by the ragged sobs that were tearing through him.

He was not a crier, never had been, but being rejected by one’s mate was apparently reason enough to turn into a sobbing ball of misery.

Derek didn’t understand what had happened, what he could have possibly done to make Stiles change his mind.

Yes, they had rushed into this and Derek should have probably made sure that Stiles understood what he was getting into before giving him a mating bite, but all of his instincts had told him that Stiles knew what was happening, heck, he had even given him a mating bite in return.

Derek ran shaking fingers along the bite-mark, which was throbbing angrily, reacting to his distress and an undeniable reminder that last night had been real.

He didn’t know how long he lay on the floor, but it must have been almost the entire day, since it was already dark outside by the time he stood up and slowly walked into the bathroom.

He tried not to think about it when he washed Stiles’ scent off his skin, closing his mouth firmly to hinder the mourning whine from escaping.

When he was clean and no longer smelled of Stiles he collapsed onto his bed.

Somewhere his phone buzzed but Derek decided to ignore it, not able to deal with anybody right now.

Although he felt as if he would never be able to sleep again he was out almost the moment his head hit the pillow, too exhausted from the emotional turmoil raging inside of him to stay awake any longer.

His dreams were filled with Stiles, a happy, excited Stiles who looked at him with love and gratitude and when Derek woke up the next morning he felt almost content until the events of the last day came crashing back at him, making his heart constrict almost painfully.

His limbs felt like lead but he got up anyways, moving as if he was on autopilot when he picked up his clothes from the bedroom floor.

He exhaled sharply when he picked up his phone and saw that he had four missed calls and three texts from Stiles.

The first one had been sent in the early morning, saying only

Where the hell are you Derek?

The next text, sent about half an hour later, read

Don’t you dare leave me like this!

And then, finally,

Alright, I get it.

Derek dropped his phone onto the bed, all efforts of actually getting up and using this day to move on forgotten when he crawled back under the covers.

Stiles might understand what was going on but Derek didn’t – all he could tell was that Stiles was angry at him for coercing him into the mating bite, that he was regretting it deeply and that he wanted to confront Derek about it.

Derek might have felt guilty, but he could absolutely not bear being confronted by Stiles right now – or ever again, for that matter.

Stiles might be able to move on from this, his bite would heal and he would have other relationships, but the bite he had given Derek had taken, the only connection Derek would ever have to the man that was supposed to have been the love of his life.

==============

Derek was able to avoid Stiles for all of 36 hours before the human appeared inside his apartment, using the key Derek had given him a year ago to let himself in while Derek, who had heard him come up the stairs, stood in front of the large window, his back towards the loft’s entrance.

“Seriously Derek, what the hell?” Stiles burst out as soon as he regained his breath and Derek flinched at the harshness he could hear in Stiles’ voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still refusing to look at his mate.

He really was sorry, sorry that he had forced Stiles into it, sorry that he had not had the courage to talk to him about it, and, most of all, sorry for having misread the signs that Stiles was ready, even though it seemed to be painfully clear now that Stiles would have never been ready.

“You’re … sorry?” Stiles repeated, sounding hurt and incredulous and Derek sighed.

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry,” he said softly, unable to keep his sorrow out of his voice.

“A mistake … you’re sorry,” Stiles repeated again and now he sounded angry instead of hurt.

Derek exhaled.

Anger he could deal with – hearing Stiles’ hurt made his own heart cry out in pain.

“You cannot be serious Derek, please tell me you aren’t serious right now,” Stiles said, his voice rising with anxiety and Derek clenched his eyes shut, counting to three before he turned around.

Stiles looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, his hair was disheveled – possibly from running his fingers through it repeatedly – and he looked both hurt and furious.

“I’m very serious. I should not have done what I did. I’m sorry,” Derek said again, steeling his voice as much as possible.

“Sorry ... Well Derek, I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for …” Stiles’ voice betrayed him as he trailed off, looking at Derek angrily and Derek sighed.

“You should go,” he said softly, suddenly not able to bear the pain in his mate’s eyes any longer.

Stiles had every right to be angry.

He had been used against his will, Derek had betrayed his trust, and the less he saw of him now the better.

“Just like that?” Stiles asked, voice sounding icy, yet shaky, and Derek nodded.

“Please … just go,” he whispered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he turned back around towards the window.

Stiles was breathing harshly and it took all of Derek’s willpower to not turn around and wrap him up in his arms, to beg him for forgiveness and ask him to take him back.

After what felt like a millennium Stiles finally walked out of the loft, slamming the door on his way out, and when he was gone Derek sank down onto the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and whimpering softly.

The bite-mark was still throbbing and he clutched it with one hand, clenching his eyes shut against the tears that he would not allow himself to cry.

There was no doubt about it – Stiles did not love him.

And he would have to learn how to live with that.

He exchanged the lock on his door the next day, but he needn’t have bothered.

Stiles didn’t try to talk to him again, which, more than anything else, was a definite sign that there was no hope for them – Stiles always talked, especially about the things that mattered to him.

Clearly, Derek did not matter as much as he had led himself to believe.

=================

The next five weeks were torture for Derek, plain and simple.

Instead of being with his mate and exploring their bond he was alone and miserable.

He felt bad about taking his heartache out on the rest of the pack, especially his Betas, who were all home for the summer break now and still relying on their Alpha, but attending pack outings would have meant running into Stiles and Derek still couldn’t face him.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac had tried to get him to tell them what had happened, smelling concerned when they had taken in his puffy, red eyes and the haggardness of his face, but he had stayed silent, barking at them to leave him alone.

Eventually they had given up and Derek was quite certain that they were about to leave him for Scott, who was slowly coming into his True Alpha nature.

He was scared about becoming an Omega, aware that an Omega who had lost his mate would be quite a deadly force, but then again, maybe a hunter would take note and put him out of this misery.

Yes, he was being dramatic, but a large part of him felt that he was allowed to.

That same part also saw no problem with him spending most of his days in bed, staring at the walls or curled up under his blankets.

Besides, he was always tired these days anyways, so sleeping was only natural and not at all a misguided coping mechanism to deal with his heartache.

After two weeks of not leaving the house and barely eating the headaches had started and two weeks after that he couldn’t have eaten even if he had wanted to.

Lovesickness courtesy of mate-rejection apparently translated to actual sickness and Derek had found the nausea, which was sometimes accompanied by vomiting and/or painful dry heaving, almost tragically poetic.

The bite-mark still throbbed angrily and as he was once again hunched over the toilet, Derek wondered if he was experiencing actual withdrawal.

He had seen the movies, and stomach cramps and vomiting were always a part of withdrawal symptoms.

Mate-withdrawal was a thing apparently, and Derek didn’t know how much more of this he could take before going insane.

He felt too big for his own skin, his stomach felt as if everything inside was shifting and as he curled up in a ball on his bed, hands pressed against his aching belly, he longed for Stiles’ touch, even though he knew it would just make the whole situation worse.

Derek wasn’t a fool, he knew that he needed to pick himself up again, aware that the constant wallowing was probably contributing to him feeling so sick all the time and when Erica all but threatened to defect to Scott if he ditched her birthday party, he decided that he had spent enough time in the loft lately.

Erica’s birthday was June 6^th and since Stiles had come home from school during the first week of May that meant that he hadn’t seen his mate – Derek knew he should stop thinking of Stiles as ‘his mate’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it – in over five weeks.

Erica’s parents were out of town and she was celebrating at her home, which was only a ten minute run away from Derek’s loft.

Well, it would have been ten minutes if he had been in his prime fighting condition, but today it took him almost an hour to get there.

He had started feeling nauseous the minute he had started running and after not even a mile he had had to stop to throw up. The dizzy spell that had hit him immediately after he had convinced himself to walk instead of run had also slowed him down and therefore he was running almost an hour late when he finally arrived at Erica’s home.

Erica had not really had any friends before she had gotten the bite and therefore her guests only consisted of the pack, which Derek was glad for, not sure he would have been able to deal with strangers while he felt so miserable.

The source of his misery was, of course, the first thing he noticed as he entered the room and the nausea, which had cleared up once he had actually stopped running, returned full force when Stiles looked at him coldly before turning his head away from him and moving to the other side of the room, tugging Scott with him, who was giving Derek an angry look of his own.

Derek wrapped his arms around his chest in an almost protective gesture, wondering why Scott hadn’t barged into his loft yet to demand answers or defend his best friend’s honor.

Not that Derek would have known how to respond to it anyways.

His hold around his chest tightened and he flinched, relaxing his arms to tug the shirt material away from his skin.

He knew werewolves didn’t have allergies, but he definitely needed a new laundry detergent, his clothes felt much too rough on his skin these days, especially in his chest area.

He was saved from staring holes into Stiles’ back by Boyd, who had appeared at his side with a glass of water and gently steered him towards the couch.

“How about you sit down for a second, you don’t look so hot,” the tall Beta said, curiosity and worry evident in his voice and Derek accepted the water with what he hoped was a grateful smile rather than a grimace.

“It’s been a weird couple of weeks,” he said quietly, hoping that his Betas would eventually forgive him for the way he had abandoned them in favor of pining over a man that didn’t love him back.

He was fine as long as he didn’t look at Stiles and Boyd seemed to understand that Derek needed a distraction.

Boyd didn’t speak often but when he did, he spoke with a calm, deep voice and for a while Derek allowed himself to relax, only half-listening to Boyd’s tales of college as he sipped his water, one hand lightly rubbing his still churning stomach to will it to quiet down.

He knew Stiles didn’t love him, but as long as the human wasn’t in a relationship he would never give up hope – and appearing weak in front of a potential mate was absolutely inappropriate, especially for an Alpha.

Stiles was still hiding on the other end of the room and Derek refrained from scenting the air, to get a larger dosage of Stiles’ scent, for almost half an hour before he stood up to go to the kitchen.

The nausea was still pretty bad and since Derek knew that Erica kept ginger ale in the fridge he decided to try it, unsure if the drink’s supposedly failsafe healing powers would work on a lovesick werewolf but exhausted enough to try regardless.

He was still so focused on not scenting Stiles that he didn’t even notice the human approaching.

“Derek,” Stiles suddenly said behind him, sounding tense and upset and Derek turned around quickly, only to grab the counter of the kitchen when the fast movement made him dizzy once again.

Derek wondered if he looked as terrible as he felt when Stiles’ upset expression turned into reluctant concern.

“Derek? Are you alright?” he asked, reaching out a hand to steady him and suddenly Derek was angry.

Stiles currently had no right to touch him and considering the way he had been cast aside like a rag five weeks ago Stiles’ sudden display of concern was cruel.

“What does it matter to you?” Derek asked harshly and Stiles pulled his hand back as if he had been stung, concerned expression turning into bitterness.

“Nothing, apparently,” he muttered, before turning on his heel and rapidly exiting the kitchen.

The kitchen counter was marble and Derek bent over to rest his heated cheek on the cool surface, willing himself not to throw up or collapse.

There was no use in kidding himself – he was definitely not ready to face Stiles yet and for the first time since he had met the human Derek couldn’t wait for him to leave, certain that he would start feeling better as soon as Stiles was no longer in the same town.

==============

In the middle of July Stiles and Scott left for their annual bro-road trip before the beginning of the school year and, like he had predicted, Derek started feeling better soon after they had gone.

The withdrawal symptoms, which had been particularly bad for the first half of June, had slowly lessened and apart from the occasional headache Derek felt much better now.

He still slept a lot but he actually welcomed it, since any moment not spent awake was one less moment of feeling the pain of his loss.

The mating bite was also still bothering him.

It wasn’t hurting per se, but it kept pulsing, as if it was crying out for Stiles’ touch and although Derek shared the sentiment, there really wasn’t anything he could do as long as Stiles didn’t love him back.

Beacon Hills was quiet for once and with Scott and Stiles gone Derek was suddenly craving the companionship of his pack.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, and occasionally even Jackson and Lydia had spent some time at the loft lately, sometimes bringing movies to watch or games to play, but always stocking up the fridge with lots of Tupperware containers.

Derek knew that weeks of barely eating and throwing up had led to him losing some weight and it had apparently bothered the pack enough for them to collectively turn into food-appreciation-enablers.

When Derek had started eating again they had watched him like a hawk for a while, before they had apparently come to the conclusion that their Alpha was over the worst of his weird mood and things were going to be fine.

Things weren’t fine, how could they be, when he still saw Stiles every time he closed his eyes, but at least he was no longer so nauseous.

“You look … a lot better,” Lydia commented at the end of July, one day before all of them were scheduled to go back to class and Derek shrugged.

Physically, he was doing better without a doubt and he had most definitely managed to gain back the weight he had lost in the past weeks of the pack’s TLC-food treatment.

If Derek wasn’t completely mistaken he had actually gained a little more than he had lost in the first place, since his skin-tight jeans had started to pinch into his belly last week.

It didn’t bother Derek too much – the jeans had been sinfully tight to begin with and besides, it wasn’t like he had anyone to impress these days.

As far as he was concerned, emotional eating after being left by one’s mate was reasonable and absolutely acceptable, and though he didn’t think chocolate was a good substitute for sex, indulging in it frequently was definitely preferable to a no-sex-no-chocolate state of being.

=================

By the middle of September Derek was officially embarrassed – and very grateful that the pack was gone and couldn’t witness the shameful spectacle that was slowly unfolding in Derek’s loft.

It had been twenty weeks since Stiles had rejected his mating-bite and Derek could hear both his mother and Laura yelling at him in his head, yelling at him for still wallowing, for not getting a grip, and, most of all, for letting himself go.

He hadn’t even known it was possible, had never seen or heard of an overweight werewolf, but apparently losing one’s mate not only crushed your heart, but also your metabolism.

At least that was the only explanation Derek could come up with that made sense as he stood in front of the mirror and stared at his body.

Or, more specifically, at his belly, which was the main source of the problem.

He had ignored the changes in his body for weeks and since he had barely gone outside for more than the occasional food run, which could be done in sweatpants and baggy sweaters, the fact that he had slowly but surely outgrown all of his clothes hadn’t really registered in his tired head.

He had taken to wearing his sweats low on his hips, which was a snug fit but not too uncomfortable, but this morning the Sheriff had called and asked him to swing by the station to help him look at some evidence that was quite possibly supernatural in nature.

Derek would have never denied the father of his mate anything, but one could definitely not attend a meeting with the town’s Sheriff dressed in washed out sweatpants and a sweater that proudly proclaimed “Yo Mama” (it had been a gift from Erica, who had made fun of all the mother-henning Derek had bestowed upon his pack after the kanima fiasco).

Therefore, Derek had grabbed a random pair of jeans and pulled it on – only to epically fail when the tight material refused to slide over his thighs.

The second pair fared exactly the same way and he was able to get the third pair, which was cut a little differently, up to his hips before he had to admit defeat.

Apparently he had also gained some weight in that area, because there were a solid one and a half to two inches that prevented the sides of the jeans from meeting, even under his belly.

Derek had avoided touching it for the most part but now he examined it curiously, pinching at the tight skin in consternation.

It wasn’t flabby by any means but firm and round, sticking out over his waistband in a gentle curve. He looked like a frat-boy who had indulged in beer a little too often, actually, which was quite ironic seeing that Derek hadn’t touched any kind of alcohol in months.

His belly button looked oddly stretched and he pressed his finger into it roughly, only to hiss in pain at how sensitive and dry his skin was these days.

The bulge wasn’t that big yet, he was a large man after all and he could still hide it under his baggy sweater, visible only if he rested his hands on it when he sat down, but the jeans were definitely not working anymore.

With a sigh Derek grabbed his sweatpants and pulled them on, trying not to touch the underside of his belly when he tightened the drawstrings.

It wasn’t only his embarrassment about the – as far as he knew – unprecedented werewolf weight gain; touching his belly made him feel strangely vulnerable these days, the bite-mark on his shoulder throbbing and screaming at him to go to his mate.

Some days it was hard for Derek not to give in to the instinct, but he refrained, aware that he needed to respect Stiles’ wishes.

Besides, Derek had been a conventionally attractive man before this whole fiasco and Stiles had rejected him without a second thought – there was no telling what he would have to say if he saw Derek like this.

===============

Derek had still had about an hour left before he was scheduled to meet the Sheriff and so he had gone to the nearest clothing store on his way there, hoping that he could buy a new pair of jeans to avoid having to face the Sheriff in sweatpants.

He had grabbed jeans that were about two sizes bigger than he normally wore and although he was able to get all of them over his thighs and hips, they still wouldn’t button.

The next pair was three sizes larger and with some effort Derek was finally able to close the button.

He lasted all of three seconds before he opened the jeans again, wincing when he rubbed his belly.

The material had been extremely constricting and, since his belly was so hard and unyielding, having the button push against his skin had actually been painful.

He had been confused about the hardness at first, but it made sense – after all, Stiles had always teased him for having abs of steel and since these abs were currently turning into a little ball, it was only reasonable for that ball to be hard as well.

With a sigh, Derek went and got an even bigger pair of jeans, one that was actually a little too big, but this time he was able to button it low enough on his hips without having to irritate his protruding stomach.

He bought a belt, too, to make sure that the jeans would actually stay up if he bent over, and when he walked into the Sheriff’s office fifteen minutes later, he felt marginally better about his appearance, even though the sweater was pretty wrinkled and the jeans clearly not his usual style.

The Sheriff was too polite to comment on it but he raised his eyebrows when he got a good look of Derek, not able to school his features back into a smooth expression before Derek could notice.

The werewolf blushed but thankfully Sheriff Stilinski got right to the point, gesturing for Derek to sit down so he could run him through the evidence.

The belt had been a mistake, Derek thought as he shifted on the chair, its large buckle pinching into his skin in almost every position but he was not about to unbuckle it, not wanting to draw even more attention to how he was letting himself go.

They seemed to have an Incubus in town and Derek shook his head firmly when the Sheriff asked if the pack should come home from school.

Laura and him had dealt with an Incubus before, back in New York, and he was confident that he could deal with the matter on his own.

“Not all Incubi kill and from what you told me all the supposed mugging victims recovered within two days of their attack, right? Incubi respect territories and if I can find it I might be able to convince it to move to another area. After all, it hasn’t killed anyone yet, which means that it is clearly in control of its power,” he mused and the Sheriff nodded, looking at Derek in concern.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? You seem to be feeling a little … under the weather these days,” he said slowly, gesturing towards the shadows under Derek’s eyes.

Derek nodded, resting one hand on his belly almost subconsciously.

“I’ll be fine. The past weeks have been … a little difficult, I had some personal issues to attend to, but I’m fine now, there’s no reason why I should not be able to deal with this. We do not have to involve the pack, they don’t even have to know,” he said firmly and the Sheriff, who was obviously struggling not to stare at the visibly round outline of Derek’s belly under the sweater, nodded.

“You are the supernatural expert,” he said and Derek nodded, shaking his head almost fondly when the Sheriff offered him a ride back to his place.

He might have gotten a little out of shape, but he could still walk fine on his own.

===============

The Incubus didn’t attack again for almost three weeks and when he did Derek arrived at the scene of the crime half an hour after the police had gone to pick up the scent and track the creature.

It was surprisingly easy, especially since his werewolf senses seemed to be super-heightened these days and he was able to find the Incubus’ hiding place inside an abandoned factory building outside of the town without too much hassle.

He had run for half of the way but eventually given up. On the one hand, it was awkward to run with his arms wrapped around his belly, a protective gesture Derek had adopted lately and couldn’t seem to shake. On the other hand, he was not used to having so much mass sitting on his midsection and he had stumbled more than once.

Face-planting himself was not on Derek’s agenda for the day and so he had started to walk when the scent got stronger.

It took almost two hours to reach the factory this way and when the large grey building appeared in front of him Derek stopped for a moment, sinking against a tree and resting his back, which was feeling strained and aching dully.

He really needed to lose this weight soon; he had gained even more in the past three weeks and it was starting to become somewhat annoying.

When he felt mostly restored Derek pushed himself up, grunting slightly at the effort it took.

He was not surprised to see the creature already waiting at the entrance for him, disguised as a beautiful woman with long brown hair and amber eyes.

It fixed its gaze on Derek with a curious frown, before it grinned and morphed into a man, its amber eyes and light brown hair painfully reminding him of his mate.

“That’s more to your liking, isn’t it Wolfy?” it asked when Derek stopped about two feet away from it.

“This town is under my protection and you are not welcome here,” Derek said firmly, aware that he was not being at his diplomatic best but still reeling from the pain of seeing the creature transform into someone who resembled Stiles so much.

“I have not killed anyone and I only take from those who have much to give – I am acting well within the established parameters of my kind,” the Incubus said, moving closer to Derek and Derek wrapped his arms around his belly without thinking, a feeling of panic rising within his chest that he was not able to understand.

The Incubus tsked at him, looking for all intents and purposes annoyed.

“What kind of monster do you take me for Wolfy, I’m not going to harm you and yours,” it said sharply but Derek found himself unable to stop touching his stomach, his wolf howling the words ‘vulnerable’ and ‘protect’ at him with almost shrill panic.

“You will leave this town tonight – do not force me to come seek you out again. Beacon Hills has suffered enough,” Derek said as calmly as possible and the creature cocked its head, looking at Derek intently.

“You certainly have – even if I had wanted to harm you, there is nothing I could have taken from you that you didn’t already give away, is there?” it asked, and was that a hint of pity in its voice?

Derek could barely stop himself from breaking into hysterical laughter.

Having to buy a whole new wardrobe because one had gone a little over board with heartbreak-induced emotional eating was one thing.

Being pitied by a sex-demon for being alone and miserable was something else entirely.

It was official – Derek had definitely hit rock bottom, it simply could not get any more humiliating than this.

The Incubus must have been able to smell the familiar pain of his loss welling up inside of Derek since it took a step back, its mocking expression softening slightly.

“I will be gone by tomorrow morning. We respect territorial boundaries and there are many other regions in this state where one can feed on desires,” it said and Derek’s lips twitched into a humorless smile.

“Los Angeles is a couple of hours south from here – I am sure there is lots of desire to go around there,” he said and the Incubus laughed.

“Been there, done that Wolfy – it wasn’t my scene, too much fakeness. I like the authentic taste,” it said, sounding as if it was marveling over a particularly fine wine.

In a way, it kind of was.

Derek considered staying to actually make sure the Incubus left for all but one moment before he decided to go home.

The creature had sounded sincere and Derek knew enough about their kind to be certain that only a rogue Incubus would go back on a promise made not in the throes of sexual desire.

Besides, he was deeply exhausted and he collapsed on top of his bed almost as soon as he had peeled his ever tightening clothes off of his body, rolling on his side and curling up around his stomach, since lying on his back or chest was no longer an option.

The Incubus’ pity weighed heavily on him and for the first time in weeks Derek cried, not in shaking sobs but silently.

He missed Stiles so much it hurt, he felt vulnerable without his mate’s love and protection, no matter how ridiculous it sounded to his own ears, since Derek was much stronger physically than his human mate and would have been much better suited for the role of protector.

He longed to have Stiles with him, to be able to provide and take care of him and, most importantly, to be taken care of and provided for in return.

Derek had always been comfortable fending for his own, he had had to adapt to it after his family had died, but these days the loneliness was crushing, weighing heavier on him than his ever-expanding stomach.

The stomach that was currently growling with hunger and further adding to his misery.

Tears were still rolling down his cheeks when he pushed himself up and slowly made his way into the kitchen, where the rest of a molten chocolate cake was waiting in the fridge.

In a way, the constant hunger made sense – he was craving Stiles, after all, and in the absence of his mate his body had channeled the craving into food-related obsessions.

Desperate to hear another human’s voice Derek turned on the television and ended up watching a documentary on blue whales, sinking into the cushions of his couch to make himself more comfortable as he devoured the large piece of cake.

It was quite fitting, actually, since he was starting to feel like a whale himself, Derek mused, forcing himself not to think about the fact that he was now able to rest his plate on the crest of his belly if he sat slouched like that.

The documentary was quite good and although he was tired Derek ended up watching almost all of it, right until the point where a mother whale cried loudly because a great white shark had attacked its newborn baby.

He had heard of werewolves who had gone insane after the loss of their mates and Derek wondered if that was what was happening to him as he fumbled for the remote, barely able to see the buttons through his tears while big sobs racked his frame.

The mother whale’s pain had sounded so heartbreaking, so real, and Derek might not have been able to reach the volume of a whale, but he found himself wailing anyways, barely able to catch a breath for almost twenty minutes.

Yeah – he was definitely going insane.

==============

Derek had been convinced that there was nothing more humiliating than being pitied by an Incubus.

He had been wrong.

Regrettably so.

In fact, there was nothing, nothing more humiliating than having to face his pack for Thanksgiving Dinner at the McCall home.

In the past seven weeks since the incident with the Incubus Derek had tried everything to lose some weight, not necessarily for vanity reasons, but because he wanted to be able to feel comfortable in his own skin again.

Not to mention the fact that his back and feet were aching almost all the time now, as if they were berating him for putting so much pressure on them.

He had tried cutting out all the sweets from his diet, which had lasted for about a week until he had been hit by such a strong craving for pancakes with syrup that he had driven to Ihop and plowed through three stacks within ten minutes, ignoring the baffled looks of the waitress and the sneers from the kids in the booth across his.

His subsequent attempt at getting up from his own booth had been truly and utterly mortifying and he had reintroduced sweets into his diet after that, aware that going cold turkey would just lead to unnecessary binging.

He had tried counting calories next but his belly still continued to grow, apparently unimpressed with Derek’s math skills.

Running had been his last resort but his ever-shifting center of gravity continued to be a problem and so Derek had given up on that after one embarrassingly short run around the preserves, which had ended with him dry heaving into the bushes and sweating out what felt like at least three liters of excess water.

Monitoring his portion sizes had been something he had actually been able to do and for a week Derek had actually felt as if he was making progress, right until he had put on his formerly baggy sweater one Sunday morning and discovered that it was now so tight that he felt like he was suffocating.

He had not even bothered with the jeans when he had driven to the store that evening in his tight sweater and sweatpants, his ears heating with embarrassment as he quickly grabbed three XXL-sweaters from the first rack and paid his purchases.

He had gotten two new pairs of sweatpants, too, since the ones he owned were starting to feel really tight around his waist as well.

That had been two weeks ago and when Scott had left him a grumpy message on his inbox that the entire pack was invited for Thanksgiving dinner and that it would be horribly rude to his mother if he didn’t attend, Derek had wanted to crawl into his bed and just die.

It had been thirty-one weeks since the mating disaster and the last time Stiles or anyone in the pack besides the Sheriff had seen him, he had looked almost frail, exhausted from constant nausea and grief.

He was still grieving, but there was nothing frail about him now.

His arms were still quite muscular, but they were about the only thing that remained of his once impressive physique.

His feet and ankles, unused to carrying so much weight, were swollen, his thighs were a lot bigger than they had been – and not from muscle-mass, sadly – and his once angular cheeks were definitely round now.

If it hadn’t been for the shadows over his cheekbones and the hollow, dull look in his eyes he would have looked like the picture of health.

The most striking difference, however, was the large, almost melon-shaped ball sitting on his midsection, stretching out all of his shirts and weighing him down whenever he sat down or struggled to get up.

He hadn’t weighed himself, had never owned a scale to begin with, but he was certain that he had gained even more weight during his ill-fated ‘dieting’ phase, clearly visible to his eyes even without the proof of his too tight clothes.

It was starting to really weigh him down and not in the physical sense either.

It had been thirty-one weeks; he should have gotten a grip by now.

Instead, he kept lying around in his loft, eating his feelings and sobbing over baby animal documentaries, which he had started to binge-watch lately for reasons that could only be explained away by his mounting insanity.

Derek vaguely remembered a British movie he had seen as a kid, a collection of short stories where one man had eaten until he exploded in a restaurant – the mere thought of it made him queasy now, although he hadn’t felt nauseous in months – and Derek wondered if it was even physically possible for a werewolf to explode.

If so, he was well on his way, and Derek had been alarmed to discover that his belly button was now pushing out, clearly no longer able to withstand the pressure of all the food he kept packing away at an alarming speed.

He had examined it in front of the mirror a couple of days ago, running his hands over his stretched skin with a frown, the image triggering some sort of memory that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Not that he was looking at himself in the mirror too often these days, especially not naked since – and maybe that was actually the most humiliating thing that could happen to a werewolf – he had recently started to grow what the cool kids apparently called moobs these days.

They weren’t full-sized breasts; he probably wouldn’t have even needed a bra if he had been a woman, but his formerly defined pecs definitely weren’t defined anymore, making his nipples look almost obscenely large.

They were sensitive, too, to the point where Derek sometimes winced when he had to put a shirt on and really, this was just getting ridiculous now.

Werewolves did not have moobs.

Werewolves should not be overweight.

Werewolves definitely should be able to deal with heartbreak rather than opting for self-destruction instead.

Sadly, Derek was defying all of these assumptions right now and he wanted to tear at his hair in frustration when he put on one of the new sweaters and found that it had gotten kind of snug in the two weeks since he had worn this particular one last.

It wasn’t fair.

Absolutely and utterly not fair.

Especially considering that he was supposed to attend a party in two hours that was essentially designed to pack away as much food as one possibly could.

Derek could certainly pack away food these days, but that didn’t mean he wanted his pack to see it.

Or make a laughing stock out of himself while he was at it.

The sweater was a little tight but presentable, but the sweat pants, however comfortable they might be, definitely had to go.

Talia Hale had raised a boy with manners and there was no way, simply no way that Derek would attend Melissa McCall’s Thanksgiving dinner dressed like a slob.

================

When Derek arrived at Melissa’s house he felt ready for a strong drink for the first time in months, desperate to forget the mortifying experience that had been his shopping trip to the clothing store.

The sales lady, a kind woman in her late fifties, had listened to him struggle into the largest pairs of jeans and slacks the store offered before she had knocked at the stall door and gently suggested that he should maybe check out the store next door before making his decision.

Derek had refused to make eye-contact with her when he had shuffled out of the stall, forcing himself not to run when he exited the store and headed towards the next one, a brand specifically designed for people who were a bit – bigger than average.

On the plus side, he was able to find a pair of nice dress slacks without a problem, he even bought a black button-up shirt and a black cardigan to go with it, suddenly feeling a little too self-conscious about showing up in Melissa’s house in the slightly too tight dark grey sweater and fancy dress slacks.

Of course his tennis shoes didn’t really fit the ensemble, but there was no way Derek was cramming his aching, swollen feet into dress shoes, conventions be damned.

He had read somewhere that black was supposed to be slimming and when he rang Melissa’s doorbell he tried his best to conceal his belly with the cardigan, hoping against hope that no one would notice just how much weight he had gained in the past eight months.

As seemed to be his usual modus operandi, his hopes were dashed the moment Melissa opened the door, her words of greeting dying on her lips as her gaze fell on his midsection.

“Derek … this is … a surprise,” she finally said, seeming desperate to not stare at his belly as she looked into his eyes apologetically and Derek blushed, berating himself for having come in the first place and not being able to resist the argument of disappointing Scott’s kind and generous mother.

“I wasn’t sure what to bring,” he said quickly, holding out a large box of cupcakes in front of him like a shield – they were the good kind, too, Derek should know since he had sampled all of them in the past months – and Melissa took the box gingerly, her baffled expression switching to concern when she finally seemed to notice the bags under Derek’s eyes.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked worriedly and Derek nodded with a small sigh.

The truth was, he did feel good. He had gotten used to the ache in his back and his throbbing feet and despite these minor discomforts he was actually excited to see his pack.

His wolf was whining at him to get inside the house to make sure his Betas were doing well and Derek stepped over the threshold gingerly, mindful of the slight height difference between the porch and the hallway.

Stiles and his father didn’t seem to be there yet and Derek exhaled slowly, happy that he would be able to get at least some quality time with his pack before his mate got there and made him feel miserable all over again.

He wrapped the cardigan around his midsection as he entered the living room, hopeful that at least Boyd, Scott, and Isaac would not pay attention to his altered physique, but the silence that suddenly fell on the room said otherwise.

If his arms hadn’t already been wrapped around his belly he would have done so right now, feeling highly vulnerable when he noticed that everyone was staring at his midsection with varying expression of bafflement on their faces.

Scott, Allison, and Erica looked shocked, Boyd and Isaac looked confused, Jackson’s lips were twitching as if he was trying not to laugh and Lydia looked almost as concerned as Melissa when Derek slowly made his way towards his pack, nodding at them before he gently sank down into the armchair, grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of his body, supposedly to rest his arms on it but actually more like a shield.

“Are you alright Derek?” Boyd asked softly and Derek nodded, cursing the blush that was spreading across his rounder cheeks.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, forcing himself not to shy away when Erica got up and crouched down in front of him.

“Are you sure?” she asked and Derek closed his eyes briefly.

“I said I’m fine,” he said testily, sounding a lot harsher than he had intended and Erica recoiled, the look on her face a mixture of annoyance and unhappiness.

He was certain that he had merely minutes left before he had to face Stiles and he didn’t want to waste the time justifying his weight gain to his pack.

Not that it was any of their business anyways.

“Look, I appreciate your concern I really do but … there was some personal stuff I had to figure out but I’m doing fine now, I’ll be back to my old self before you know it,” he said, his tone daring anyone to speak up and Lydia frowned.

“Are you sure? We thought you were getting better when you finally started eating again last summer,” she said slowly and Derek tried to ignore the hurt he felt when Jackson muttered “And eat he did,” under his breath.

“I might have gone a bit over board with the eating,” Derek admitted, having decided that it would just make the situation worse if he pretended to be oblivious to the problem.

“But I’ll be fine. We’re going to pick up pack training again when all of you come back for the winter break, it has been way too long,” he said firmly, looking at his pack with what he hoped was determination.

He could hear the front door open and he was both relieved and terrified when Scott jumped up, looking excited.

He was relieved that Stiles’ arrival had temporarily taken the pack’s attention away from him and his weight, and terrified of the look on Stiles’ face.

He hugged the pillow closer, feeling miserable about himself and when Lydia placed her hand on his knee he looked up in surprise.

“No person is worth destroying yourself over, please don’t forget that Derek,” she whispered and Derek smiled sadly.

Lydia had no idea what she was talking about – a true mate was worth everything.

Derek certainly wouldn’t have fallen into this spiral of desperation for anyone.

He bit his lip when said mate entered the living room, nodding at the Sheriff in acknowledgement who was trailing behind his son, followed by Chris Argent who had apparently also been invited.

The Sheriff’s eyes widened when he saw him, he was clearly aware that Derek’s belly had grown much larger since September and even the beginning of October and Derek tried to communicate to him to stay silent, not wanting to draw Stiles’ attention on him.

Stiles, meanwhile, seemed to be looking everywhere but Derek and he was busy greeting Scott and Allison, his back turned towards Derek, who felt bitter bile rise in his throat at the new rejection.

He placed a hand on his belly automatically, rubbing it gently and begging it to cooperate with him today.

He had already made a fool out of himself enough as it was, he did not need to vomit all over Melissa’s carpet.

When he felt someone staring at him he looked up, meeting Chris’ calculating eyes.

The hunter was frowning at him and Derek could almost see the wheels in his brain turning.

He wondered if Chris had run into an overweight werewolf before, would have loved to ask him, since he would have felt marginally better about his weight if he had confirmation that this sometimes happened and that it was ok, but Chris didn’t say anything, merely nodded at him in silent greeting before looking away.

Stiles still hadn’t acknowledged him and Derek would have gladly continued this way, however, he really needed to go to the bathroom and, as he had learned in the past couple of months, this was a need that could not be ignored for too long.

Sadly, Stiles was currently leaning against the doorframe that led to the bathroom and Derek pushed himself out of the chair, trying not to grunt at the effort it took before he quickly waddled his way to the door.

Waddling was another one of these things that Derek just didn’t think about.

Especially not now as he was trying to squeeze his bulky stomach past the small space left between the doorframe and Stiles, who had not seen him coming yet.

He was almost able to get past his mate, relief already flooding through him when Stiles, who was currently talking to Boyd about some class they shared together, flailed his hands in typical Stiles’ fashion and planted his right hand onto the round center of Derek’s midsection on accident.

They both froze, but for different reasons.

The moment that Stiles touched Derek’s belly the werewolf’s mating bite flared up almost painfully and he inhaled sharply when his wolf began to whine at him in what seemed to be desperate triumph.

Mate! Ours! Love! Protect! the wolf howled inside of him and even though Stiles was touching him through a layer of cotton, Derek’s skin burned below his familiar hand.

He wondered if this was what the first hit after a long period of drug abstinence felt like, as wave after wave of love, desire, and need washed over him, almost making his knees go weak as he stared at Stiles with wide eyes.

However, his mate wasn’t looking at him; instead, his gaze was fixed on his hand on Derek’s belly, the way it curved around the large protrusion and barely covered any space at all.

Whatever Stiles was feeling, it probably wasn’t love Derek decided when his mate’s gaze finally snapped to his in an expression of shock, confusion, and … disbelief?

Derek’s heart sunk when Stiles continued to stare at him, even though he had made no move to remove his hand from his belly.

He wondered why Stiles looked so shocked – he had once told Derek that he had read up on mates and really, his smart mate should be aware that rejecting a mate could wreak havoc on the other person.

Granted, this havoc probably didn’t usually manifest in the form of a belly so large that one could have won a beer gut competition without a problem, but still, Derek had always done things a little differently so this shouldn’t be that much of a surprise.

The hand on Derek’s belly twitched at the same time as Stiles suddenly winced, making a hissing sound as if he was in pain and Derek finally had enough.

If Stiles didn’t love him back that was fine – well, not really, but Derek could accept that.

Having him touch him with an expression as if it literally pained him to do so, however, was not fine and he refused to feel that unwanted any longer.

“Do you mind!” he barked angrily and Stiles recoiled, pulling back his hand as if it had been burned.

The need to pee came back with a vengeance and Derek all but stumbled away from him, locking himself in the bathroom and fumbling with his dress slacks, hoping that he wouldn’t end up soiling them and thus complete the humiliation.

He didn’t, and when he was done he washed his hands carefully, splashing some cold water on his face to clear his head.

He had not been prepared for Stiles to touch him and he placed a shaking hand on his belly, convinced that he could still feel the heat of Stiles’ touch on it.

He shouldn’t have come, this had been a mistake almost as big as forcing Stiles into mating with him in the first place, and he was about to plot his escape when his traitorous stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since that morning.

Derek reconsidered.

If he sat across the table from Stiles and focused on the food, he would be able to have one, maybe two helpings to appease Melissa and then make his exit, feigning fullness.

He was quite certain that no one would doubt the excuse.

When he got back to the table Stiles had already sat down, making it easier for Derek to sit away from him as far as possible.

Stiles looked preoccupied and pale, his long fingers fidgeting with the tablecloth and Derek forced himself not to look at him as the pots and serving dishes made their way across the table.

The food smelled and tasted delicious and Derek ended up having three helpings, ignoring the looks he was getting from Lydia and Boyd, who had sat down on either side of him and were watching him like hawks.

Derek didn’t think they had ever seen him eat as much, but at least he had an excuse for the weight gain now.

Since everyone was of age now, Melissa served wine, but the feeling of wanting a drink that Derek had had earlier had vanished.

In fact, he almost gagged at the first taste of the white wine, which had undoubtedly been expensive and was probably rather good.

It was highly rude of him to spit it back into the glass, but he really couldn’t force himself to swallow it.

Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed.

His pack seemed to be trying hard to overcome the tension at the table, caused both by the unresolved issues between Stiles and Derek and the fact that everyone was trying not to watch Derek eat.

Dessert was a slice of Melissa’s homemade apple-cinnamon-pumpkin cheesecake and when Derek sat his fork down he actually did feel a bit stuffed.

It wasn’t painful, but it was definitely noticeable and it took some willpower not to give in to the urge to rub his belly but Derek succeeded, aware that the motion would have just directed more attention to his protruding stomach.

Once again he felt too big for his own skin, not only because of the large belly but also because of Stiles’ presence and he made his excuses to Melissa as soon they were done clearing the table.

Derek had tried to help but it had been more of an honorary effort. He had been moving so sluggishly that Isaac had already cleared half of their side of the table by the time Derek had straightened up from the dishwasher where he had deposited five plates, studiously ignoring the concerned glances he was now getting from everyone.

Melissa, who was still looking worried when he made his goodbyes, thanked him for coming, but not before asking him again if everything was alright.

Derek nodded.

He wasn’t alright and it was probably obvious to everyone that he wasn’t, but the only person that could do anything about it was refusing to look at him, had barely eaten anything in fact during the meal and was currently huddled in the armchair Derek had sat in earlier, unconsciously rubbing at his collarbone where Derek knew the mating bite had probably long faded away.

He was almost back to his car when the Sheriff caught up with him, looking worried and upset.

“Are you ok son?” he asked and Derek sighed, rubbing his temples.

“I’m alright,” he confirmed and the Sheriff made an unhappy sound.

“Did that Incubus do anything to you? I know you said everything went well but did it maybe mess with you after all?” he rushed out and Derek shook his head with a soft smile, oddly touched at the concern he was receiving from his mate’s father and devastated that his own mate couldn’t seem to care about him.

“Everything went well and I’m fine, really. I’m figuring things out, I promise,” he said and the Sheriff hesitated for a fraction of a second before he placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder, just shy of the throbbing mating bite.

“Can’t you just talk to him Derek? I can’t … I just can’t stand seeing both of you so unhappy!” he whispered and Derek raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and the Sheriff made an exasperated sound.

“Stiles! I’m talking about Stiles. Something happened between you two, though I’d be damned if I knew what it was! He hasn’t been himself since he came home from university back in May and I really, really don’t want to be rude Derek, but you aren’t exactly your normal self either right now,” the Sheriff trailed off, gesturing towards Derek’s belly.

“I don’t want to interfere, I really don’t, I probably don’t even want to know what happened but I can’t help but think that maybe you both would be less miserable if you could figure out a way out of this misery together,” he finally said softly and Derek lowered his head.

“It’s not that easy Sir,” he murmured, purposefully not looking at the elder Stilinski and the Sheriff sighed.

“I would have been surprised if it was,” he muttered, before he tightened his hold on Derek’s shoulder and then let him go.

“You are both adults and I’m trusting you to figure this out but please Derek, if you can’t do it for my son, I beg you to do it for yourself. Whatever is going on with you right now, it doesn’t look healthy and we are all worried about you,” he said and Derek tried to smile gratefully, sure that it looked more like a pained grimace.

“I’m trying. Just give me a bit more time,” he said and the Sheriff nodded.

“Stiles won’t be back home until Christmas and then he’ll be here for almost six weeks. That’ll be plenty of time to figure out a way out of this mess, don’t you think?” he asked softly and Derek nodded.

It was a little over four weeks to Christmas.

A lot could happen in a month and maybe, just maybe, he would finally start to get his weight back under control, not wanting to freak out his pack any longer.

=================

Someone was in control of his weight alright, Derek thought with a grimace as he struggled to get out of bed on Christmas morning.

Sadly, the person in control wasn’t Derek, but his belly, which seemed to have developed a mind of its own and was currently controlling every aspect of his life.

He was unable to sleep comfortably, regardless of how many pillows he used, even his largest clothes were starting to feel tight again and because he was constantly hungry or thirsty he was using the bathroom at almost hourly intervals these days, which was especially draining during the night when all he wanted was to sleep.

He had to move slowly and carefully, his instincts urging him to protect his belly at all costs even if he didn’t understand why and since his center of gravity was still way off, he couldn’t help but bump into things.

He had stabbed his toe badly last week; at least he assumed it had been bad, since he could no longer see it properly.

It had, of course, healed, but much slower than he normally did, as if all of his energy was currently being rerouted to sustain the growing mass of his midsection.

He hadn’t thought he could get any larger, had been convinced that Thanksgiving must have been the peak of the unwanted werewolf-weight-gain extravaganza, but now, five weeks later, he had to reconsider.

He had wanted to wear the black dress shirt for the pack Christmas gathering but he could no longer button it, neither over the rock-solid center of his belly nor his chest, which was even bigger these days.

Possibly even an A-Cup now, Derek was fiercely embarrassed to admit.

In addition to making him clumsy, slow, tired, uncomfortable, and always hungry, his belly had also begun to hurt lately, even worse than it had 30 weeks ago, when he had often been curled up on his bed with his hands pressed against his flat, yet cramping stomach.

All in all, Derek wasn’t surprised about the pain. Maybe he couldn’t explode like the Monty Python guy, but if his protruding bellybutton and his itchy, stretched skin were any indication, he was currently abusing his poor stomach to the max.

No wonder it had started to retaliate with pain, often catching him by surprise.

The first time it had happened he had just sat down to watch yet another animal documentary – this time about baby giraffes – and he had cried out at the pain that suddenly coursed through his stomach, gasping with tears in his eyes when he had felt his muscles contract under his shaking hands.

He had doubled over, pressing his hands into his sides and pushing as firmly as he could, feeling overwhelmed both by the unexpected pain and the frantic cries of his wolf, who was clearly panicking and screaming MATE! HELP! at him in what sounded like capital letters.

He hadn’t known what to do and finally gotten up, walking around the room with his hands pressed against his back to take some of the weight off and the next spike of pain had already been less painful, until it had disappeared altogether.

The second time it had jerked him awake in the middle of the night and although it had taken longer, Derek had walked up and down his loft slowly, biting his lips against the pain as it increased again and again.

There had been a couple more repeats since and the last time had been just last night but this time Derek hadn’t even mustered the energy to get up, electing instead to curl up as best as he could in his bed and whining in misery.

No one should be in so much pain on Christmas Eve, and if one had to be in pain for whatever reason, at least no one should have to go through it alone.

He had fallen asleep almost as soon as the pain had finally worn off, physically and emotionally exhausted and his dreams had once again been filled with Stiles.

In his dream, he had been lying on a bed, exhausted, but happy and Stiles had bent over him, tears of happiness running down his face as he kissed Derek again and again, whispering to him how much he loved him.

Derek had wanted to focus on Stiles entirely, soaking in his warmth and love but there had been a strange weight in his arms demanding his attention.

When he had looked down there had been a baby, swaddled in blankets and staring up at him with huge blue eyes, eyes that would no doubt turn dark just like his own as it got older.

It looked like the perfect combination of them both, with Stiles’ nose, mouth, and long eyelashes and Derek’s complexion, hair color, and cheekbones.

It was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen and when its tiny fist had caught Derek’s finger in a strong grip, he had felt like he was going to burst out of his chest with happiness.

He felt disoriented when he woke up that morning, hands once again falling to his large belly automatically.

As he stroked the stretched skin gingerly, Derek shook his head at his own brain, wondering if this was the next step in his descend towards madness.

He might not have been the best student in school, but he had aced his biology exam on reproduction – he knew where babies came from and it was definitely not out of a male body.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed the similarities between his current shape and that of a heavily pregnant woman, he wasn’t that oblivious, but he really didn’t know what to do with that information other than feeling even more embarrassed.

If he had been a woman there would have been no doubt in his mind what was wrong with him, but he wasn’t a woman and the thought that he might have actually gotten pregnant on accident during his one night with his mate was just too ludicrous to entertain for longer than even a second.

Derek had never heard of a pregnant male werewolf, possibly because it was total and utter nonsense and he angrily wiped at the wetness on his cheeks, wondering how he could possibly have any tears left after last night.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed slowly and stood up, frowning at his reflection when he passed the mirror on the wall.

His belly looked different today, much lower than it had the other day and feeling even heavier and Derek rubbed at a rather sore spot at his side, wondering if he had actually managed to bang against a wall without noticing it.

His belly had been sore on and off for months now so that hardly wasn’t anything new, and when he stepped into the shower he exhaled in relief at the warm water cascading down his back, relieving his tension at least momentarily.

When he stepped out of the shower he wrapped a towel around his waist and set out to find new clothes, which quickly led to his discovery of the no-longer fitting dress shirt.

Thankfully he had picked up a 4 XL sweater at the bigger sizes shop in town last week, glad that it was winter and he had had an excuse to bundle up in the biggest coat he owned, which at least concealed most of his – in his opinion – enormous stomach, and he put it on now, relived that it had not magically shrunk on him overnight as well, as so many of his clothes had done in the past nine months.

Most people attended Christmas morning celebrations in their pajamas and so Derek didn’t feel as bad about his sweatpants and 4XL sweater attire as he got into his car with some difficulty, cursing when he had to readjust the seat yet again to fit his growing body and cursing even louder when he found that he had finally exhausted the readjustment range.

He could still drive the car, but it was by no means comfortable and when he got to the Sheriff’s house, where, to his resignation, the pack had decided to unwrap gifts after their own celebrations at home, he lifted the hem of his sweater, wincing at the red lines that ran all over his belly where the steering wheel had pushed into it.

If he gained anymore weight he would no longer fit into his car at all and Derek was more determined than ever to finally get this under control.

It had been Laura’s car, the only link he still had to her, and he would be damned if he had to give it up because he was trying to eat himself into an early grave.

The moment he stepped into the Stilinski house Derek fiercely wished he hadn’t come.

Scott loudly squawked at the sight of him, as if he was some overgrown werebird, dropping a plate of cookies on the hardwood floor where it shattered with a loud bang and attracted everyone’s attention.

Derek hadn’t been looked at with so much shock and pity by so many people ever since Laura and he had been taken to the Sheriff station after the fire and he would have gladly gone the rest of his life without ever having to remember what that felt like.

Derek could see what they were thinking, had thought the same thing as he had looked in the mirror that morning.

His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, as if he had been crying all night (he had, actually, too exhausted to deal with the pain in his trademark stoic silence any longer).

He also looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks (also true, both because of the frequent bathroom breaks and his inability to find a comfortable position to sleep in).

Most damning of all, the 4XL shirt probably made him look even larger than he was without it and although he had lost some of the roundness in his cheeks in the past two weeks, due to the frequent bouts of pain and a mounting, inexplicable anxiety that had prevented him from eating as much, he still looked as if he was currently eating a small child for breakfast everyday.

His pack was struggling not to say anything, he could see it in all of their faces, but the only thing that really mattered to him was Stiles, his beloved mate, who looked more afraid than Derek had ever seen him.

Stiles seemed to be on the verge of jumping up from the couch, staring at Derek with something that was close to horror and Derek wondered if he was finally realizing that he was at least partially responsible for this.

Of course it was mostly on Derek that he had decided to spectacularly not deal with his mate’s rejection, but still, Stiles’ actions had triggered it and although he wanted to be mad at the human Derek found that he simply couldn’t.

Instead, his traitorous inner wolf was crying inside of him, urging him to comfort Stiles, to wrap him up in his arms and tell him that it would all be ok.

Derek’s wolf, the one that had gotten Derek into this mess in the first place with all its urging to finally make the mating-bond official, could kiss Derek’s slightly bigger than normal ass as far as he was concerned.

Derek made his escape as soon as he could, almost directly after the most awkward gift exchange in the history of gift exchanges had ended.

The entire house smelled of Stiles and it was too much for him to bear, especially given how tired and achy he still felt.

He was also extremely exhausted from his nightly ordeal and having to watch Stiles stare at him whenever he felt unobserved wasn’t helping.

At all.

The Sheriff had tried to talk to him on his way out, crossing his arms and looking as if he was about to handcuff Stiles and Derek together to force them to sort out their problems, but Derek had shaken his head, indicating that he wasn’t able to deal with all of this right now.

As he got into the Camaro he was aware of the people watching him through the windows, aware of the Sheriff and Melissa standing in the door with crossed arms and matching looks of worry on their faces and he managed to drive two miles away before he had to stop, barely making it out of the car before he threw up the three cookies he had forced himself to eat at the gathering.

He briefly wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like as he tried to get his breathing under control, hoping that his belly wouldn’t start hurting again because he really couldn’t deal with that on top of all of his anxiety.

Ascending the stairs back up to his loft was brutal and Derek vowed to not leave the apartment again until he had lost at least half of the weight.

Climbing stairs should not be that much of a problem for a werewolf and it made Derek feel even worse than he already did to realize just how out of it he was.

It was with that thought in mind that he decided to skip the New Year’s party at Allison’s home and he felt only slightly guilty when he told her so via text on the evening of the 30^th, making it look like something had come up at the very last minute.

He was tired, constantly uncomfortable and achy and, above all, incredibly lonely, even when he was surrounded by people.

Seeing Stiles but not being able to be with him was a pain he just couldn’t deal with any longer and as he fell asleep that night, his hand massaging his throbbing lower back, he wondered if he shouldn’t just pack up his things and go.

He would be alone wherever he went anyways and if he moved to the other side of the country at least he wouldn’t face the risk of running into Stiles anymore.

===============

Derek almost regretted not owning a scale when he got up on the morning of December 31^st. He felt like he weighed a ton and he would have loved to check if his assessment was actually accurate.

His back was still throbbing as he slowly walked into the kitchen area to make breakfast, only to throw half of it away when he was unable to eat anymore.

He spent the day slipping in and out of exhausted naps, curled up on the couch with the Animal Planet channel on endless repeat and it had already gotten dark outside when a harsh knock suddenly woke him up from his latest nap.

Derek took a careful sniff and paled when he realized that the entire pack was standing in front of the door, including Melissa, Chris, the Sheriff – and Stiles.

Stiles’ smell was the most potent of all of them and Derek wanted to whine at the misery and fear he could feel wafting off of his mate.

The knock came again, sounding even more urgent this time and he got up slowly, one hand pressed into his painfully clenching back as he waddled to the door and opened it.

His nose hadn’t betrayed him.

They were all dressed for the New Year’s Party but nobody was smiling, and Derek stepped back with a frown as Scott walked past him with a large, rolled up white banner in his arms.

His intention became clear when he marched straight to the large window front and attached the banner to one of the beams, rolling it out and revealing the word ‘Intervention’ in red, glaring letters.

The rest of the pack was giving him deeply concerned glances as they shuffled past him, smelling guilty but also worried and Derek crossed his arms in front of his chest, closing the door with a soft snap after Chris had marched in with a huge frown on his face.

When he turned back around they were all standing under the banner and Derek, who was only wearing a thin t-shirt over his sweatpants that left neither his fuller chest nor his swollen belly and protruding bellybutton to the imagination, crossed his arms over his chest, increasingly feeling exposed.

He felt even more vulnerable when the Sheriff suddenly grabbed Stiles’ arm and dragged him over to Derek, his eyes daring either of them to protest when he shoved his son next to the werewolf.

“What are you doing Dad?” Stiles exclaimed and the Sheriff sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“This is an intervention – for both of you!” he explained gruffly, before he resumed his spot in the circle of their friends.

“We love you Derek and it is because we love you that we cannot let you do this to yourself any longer,” Lydia began, sounding almost businesslike as she gestured towards Derek’s swollen abdomen.

“We also love you Stiles and we can no longer watch you do this to yourself!” Scott added, looking at his best friend apologetically.

“We don’t know what happened because Stiles is an idiot and won’t tell anyone except Scott, who is an idiot for not sharing, but we are done watching both of you suffer!” the Sheriff exclaimed and both Stiles and Scott flinched, one smelling incredibly sad and the other smelling decidedly guilty.

“We have solved larger crises in this town, the fact that you and Stiles are slowly self-destructing by not talking, something that comes to Stiles as naturally as breathing, is ridiculous!” Jackson added, fixing both men with an accusatory glare.

“Stiles has not been himself ever since we came back from the break and he barely managed to pass his classes this semester since he was constantly preoccupied. After careful observation, we have concluded that the something he has been thinking about for months is you, Derek, or rather whatever happened between you two back in May that led you to double your body-weight and Stiles to stop talking to us and walking around like someone had died for months!” Erica informed both men bluntly and Derek closed his eyes when another wave of guilt washed over him.

He should have known that Stiles couldn’t just move on from this, that it would take time to heal the damage he had done and even though he still felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders – and on his midsection – he turned towards the younger man, taking in the fear in his eyes, as well as the sadness.

“I’m sorry Stiles,” he said again, repeating his words from what felt like an eternity ago, hoping that this time the younger man would accept his apology.

He almost recoiled when Stiles’ head snapped up and the expression on his face turned into anger.

“So you’ve said, Derek!” he hissed, crossing his arms and turning as well so that they were face to face.

“It was an insult back then and it is an insult now, so I don’t understand why you are even trying!” he continued and Derek flinched again, this time at the tears that were beginning to pool in his mate’s eyes.

“But I am sorry Stiles! You have no idea how much I have beaten myself up over forcing this unto you. I assumed and I shouldn’t have done that and now you are hurting and it’s because of me and the last thing, trust me, the very last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you!” Derek rushed out, wincing when he pain in his back got even worse.

It was probably due to his rising anxiety, which did not abate one bit when Stiles widened his eyes almost comically.

“What the hell are you even talking about Derek? No one forced me to do anything! What you should be sorry for is leaving me like you did, right after you went and freaking mate-bonded yourself to me and accepted my bite in return! What the hell was that all about?! I’m sure you know as much about werewolf mating as I do, possibly even more, and you can’t tell me it never occurred to you that this is permanent, both for you and for me!You can’t just go and mate with somebody and then disappear in the morning only to tell that person it was a mistake and you’re sorry!” he yelled at him, his voice rising as the first tear spilled down his cheek.

Derek recoiled as if he had been struck.

“You threw me out!” he whispered, wondering if he was going to collapse on the floor when his knees started shaking uncontrollably.

“You were the one who rejected me, not me, never me, I would have never rejected you!” he continued and Stiles suddenly looked stricken.

“I never threw you out, what are you even talking about?!” he exclaimed, only he knew what Derek was talking about, he could see it in the way Stiles suddenly got even paler and the way his entire face began to twitch.

“You told me I had to get up that morning, that it was no drill and that I had to get a move on! What else was I supposed to think?” Derek asked, his own voice getting louder and drowning out the shocked gasps of his watching pack as he stepped towards Stiles, arms no longer crossed over his chest but wrapped around his belly, which had suddenly started to hurt again.

“Derek … you stupid, stupid, stupid man!” Stiles whispered, his hands flying up to his mouth in his shock as he looked at Derek with desperation in his eyes.

“I had gone downstairs to get you some breakfast because I thought breakfast in bed would be a romantic thing to do on our first morning as mates together, not to mention our very first morning together period, and when I got into the kitchen my dad told me that my grandaunt Eileen was about to burst through the door in like five minutes. My grandaunt Eileen is terrifying, has no sense of personal boundaries,and she would have given me years of verbal abuse if she had marched into my room and found a naked man in my bed! I wanted you to get dressed quickly so I could introduce you to her without being cut out of her will!” Stiles said, his voice breaking as he stared at Derek.

“When I came back out of the bathroom you were gone, you didn’t even wait for me to explain, and then you didn’t respond to any of my texts or my calls and when I finally tracked you down you told me it was a mistake! That I was a mistake. Look at this! Just look at it!” he said, voice growing louder again as he yanked at his t-shirt to expose the red mating bite below his collarbone, which presented a stark contrast against Stiles’ pale skin and looked as if it was throbbing just as painfully as Derek’s own on his shoulder.

“This thing hasn’t stopped hurting since the moment you left! This is not a mistake! We are not a mistake!” Stiles whispered heatedly and Derek’s hand went to his shoulder, eyes impossibly wide as he pushed up his sleeve to expose his own mark.

“Seriously, when I touched you on Thanksgiving I thought it was going to burn out of my skin!” Stiles continued, and he stepped closer, hesitantly reaching out his hands and hovering them just above Derek’s belly.

“Is this my fault? For not trying harder to get you back?” he whispered, looking heartbroken when Derek flinched away from him.

“Derek, I don’t know what’s going on but I swear, I’ll make it right, if you just let me. But you need to stop doing this to yourself, you’re going to hurt yourself if you continue like this and I’m sorry for being selfish but I won’t be able to deal with that. I can’t be without you, you stupid, stubborn Sour Wolf, don’t you understand that?” he continued and Derek swallowed heavily when Stiles gently touched his stomach.

Like last time, Stiles’ touch seemed to be setting his skin on fire and once again the wolf cried inside Derek’s head, chanting Mate! and Mine!

Derek lifted his hands and cupped Stiles’ face with both, searching his gaze for rejection and uttering a choked sob when Stiles looked at him with what was undoubtedly love, though it was mixed with fear and concern.

Derek felt like he was acting on instinct more than anything when he surged forward and captured Stiles’ lips, ignoring the gnawing pain in his midsection as he put everything he was feeling into the kiss and Stiles responded eagerly, his hands gently cradling Derek’s aching stomach as he kissed back.

Laura had been right – it was utterly foolish to bind oneself to a person, to form a bond so strong that one’s entire happiness was dependent upon being with that person, but Derek had always been a fool, and when he broke the kiss he rested his head on Stiles’ shoulder, burrowing his nose into the humans’ neck and inhaling deeply, as if he wanted to catch up on all the scenting he had missed in the past 37 weeks.

He had one arm wrapped around Stiles’ back as far as he could with his belly creating a barrier between them and the other hand was clutching Stiles’ shoulder, right where Derek’s own mating-bite was.

Derek was happy that he finally had his mate back, but his wolf was getting increasingly restless.

Derek didn’t understand what it was trying to tell him, but he did notice the pain in his abdomen growing sharper and sharper, wrapping around his entire torso like a burning blanket.

He pressed his cheek against Stiles’ shoulder, breathing harshly and trying desperately to hold in the whine building at the back of his throat.

He tried to tell his belly that it was ok, that it could stop hurting now, that everything would be fine, but again it proved that it had a mind of its own these days.

Derek had been waiting for it to contract, used to the sensation by now, but he was not prepared for the intensity when it did, glad that he had Stiles’ shoulders to hold on to, because he was quite sure that he would have crumpled to the floor without his mate’s support.

He could hear Stiles’ heartbeat speed up when he was no longer able to keep the pained whine in, clutching Stiles’ shoulder so hard that he was probably bruising it as the pain turned into searing agony, ripping through him as if it wanted to tear him apart from the inside out.

As quickly as it had come it was over and Derek started swaying, steadied only by his mate, who was yelling “Derek? Derek!” and sounding panicked.

His knees were turning into rubber and when they buckled under him he almost slipped out of Stiles’ grasp, considering he had been significantly heavier than the lanky human even before he had piled on all this weight.

A second pair of hands was suddenly holding him up and when Scott and Stiles lowered him to the floor Derek barely had time to gather his strength before the pain was back, as bad as the last time, and Derek curled into himself and screamed, partly because of the pain and partly because he was starting to be afraid.

Reasserting the bond to his mate should have made him feel better, not worse and Derek was beginning to wonder if he had damaged his body beyond repair, since something was clearly very wrong.

The pain dulled back to a bearable level again and Derek suddenly realized that Stiles was cradling him, one hand stroking his damp hair and the other pushed against his abdomen.

“What’s wrong with him? What the hell is going on?”

That was the Sheriff, sounding just as freaked out as his son when Stiles answered.

“I don’t know Dad! But his belly is rock-hard and each time he screamed it felt like it was cramping up right under my hand! Oh my god, is he dying? Derek, listen to me, you can’t die, ok? Please don’t die!”

Derek would have loved to reassure his mate that he wasn’t dying, but then the pain increased again and he actually wasn’t too sure about that as he screamed, his hands digging into Stiles’ arms as he tried to anchor himself to his mate.

Suddenly the pressure was gone and Derek closed his eyes in mortification when he felt wetness spreading out between his legs, sure that he had gone and peed himself in front of his mate and the entire pack.

“Is he bleeding? Is that blood?!” Stiles yelled and then Melissa was kneeling on his other side, carefully dipping one finger into the puddle on the floor and lifting it to her nose.

When she looked back at Derek her eyes were wide as saucers.

“It’s not blood or urine,” she said, sounding as shocked as she looked and Derek whimpered when she reached out her hand and rested it on his abdomen.

“Derek … honey … can I lift up your shirt please? I need to check something,” she said gently, though disbelief was still evident in her voice and face.

Derek was shaking when she pulled the shirt up, exposing his naked flesh to the entire pack and he bit back a pained groan when she began to examine his stomach, fighting nausea that was suddenly rising up inside of him when she pushed into his sore skin.

“Oh my god …” Melissa whispered and when she looked at Derek there was fear and disbelief in her eyes.

“Honey … how?!” she continued and Derek began to shake even harder.

“What is it? Is it bad?” he finally got out and Melissa’s eyes widened even further.

“Derek … you don’t know?” she breathed and Derek shook his head, clenching his eyes shut when his stomach cramped up again, one hand helplessly clutching his underbelly, which seemed to be shifting under his hands.

“Is it possible? How can this even be possible?” Melissa got out and when Chris Argent spoke up, Derek forced himself to open his eyes so he could look at the hunter, who was standing behind Melissa.

The rest of his pack and the Sheriff, who had formed a circle around him and Stiles, smelled panicked and concerned, but Chris smelled and sounded surprisingly calm, looking like a man who had just gotten a long-suspected theory confirmed when he knelt down next to Melissa.

“I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to intrude on your privacy and obviously I didn’t know Stiles was involved but …” he trailed off when he saw the look of confusion and fear on Derek’s face and his expression softened.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he asked softly and Derek shook his head, whimpering when his back sent out angry spasms throughout his entire midsection and upper legs.

“I have never seen it personally and we don’t have reliable records but there have been stories … it’s definitely possible Melissa,” he said and Melissa gasped, her cool hands once again pushing against Derek’s lower belly as she examined his stomach again.

“What’s possible? Talk to me damn it, what’s going on with my mate?” Stiles demanded, sounding almost shrill in his panic and Chris flicked his eyes towards the younger man with a compassionate, if a little bewildered expression on his face.

“Stiles … I think your mate is pregnant and about to have your baby.”

There were lots of gasps at Chris’ announcement and Stiles inhaled sharply, his eyes going so wide that Derek wondered if they would fall out of his eye sockets.

He couldn’t really say he blamed him for it.

“I’m not … it’s not … I’m a man!” the werewolf gasped and Chris shook his head.

“As far as werewolves are concerned that occasionally doesn’t seem to matter if a male werewolf’s true mate turns out to be a man. I don’t think it’s very common, but it has happened in the past,” Chris explained and Derek closed his eyes against the panic that was suddenly rising up inside of him.

“What the hell are you talking about? Derek’s a man; he’s not pregnant! This is not the time for jokes, can’t you see he’s in pain?” the Sheriff exploded above him and before Chris could respond Melissa made an exasperated sound.

“Quiet, both of you. Now I’m not going to pretend that I understand what the hell is going on here, and as soon as this day is over I’m going to need a very strong drink, but this,” she grabbed Derek’s hand, directing it to the part of his skin where he had felt the shift before, “this is definitely a baby and based on the amount of amniotic fluid on the floor this baby wants to be born right now. We need to figure out a way how and we need to do it quickly because these contractions are coming very frequently!” she ordered and Derek curled up again as the pain returned, crying out as he pressed his face against Stiles’ chest.

His mate’s heart sounded as if he was running a marathon and his voice was shaking when he looked at Chris and asked, “How can he even give birth. He’s a man, he doesn’t have the right parts, and he’ll immediately heal if we try to cut him open!”

Chris exhaled loudly.

“Now I’m not going to go and check but as far as I know male werewolves apparently … temporarily grow the necessary part for that when the time comes? Again, I’ve never actually met anyone who has dealt with something like this, we only know the stories,” he said and Melissa once again took charge, ordering the rest of the pack to step back when she carefully pulled down the soaked sweatpants and pushed Derek’s boxers aside.

“I see it!” she exclaimed and Stiles squeaked.

“The baby?!” he gasped and Melissa shook her head.

“The birth canal. I’m not an expert but it looks large enough to actually push this baby through.”

She looked at Derek again and stroked his hand comfortingly.

“How long have you been in pain honey?” she asked and Derek panted.

“Since last night,” he ground out, wincing when Stiles made a sound that was halfway between a sob and a curse.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Derek, why did you not tell me what was going on? I would have never left you alone for so long!” he whispered and Derek, who was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that he was apparently about to give birth to a baby that had grown in his belly for over nine months and caused all of his discomfort, sniffled.

“I didn’t know. Please believe me, I didn’t know,” he gasped before letting out another pained scream.

“Scott! He’s not giving birth to this baby while lying on a cold stone floor, not as long as I can help it! You need to carry him over to the bed, right now!” Melissa ordered and although Scott looked like he was about to pass out in shock he hooked his arms under Derek’s legs and shoulders and lifted him up, carrying him to the bed bridal style and gently placing him on the covers.

Derek whined at the loss of Stiles’ touch but his mate appeared at his side within seconds, one hand stroking his belly while the other held on to his own hand.

“Derek … I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know,” he whispered and Derek tried to smile.

“’s my fault. Told you not to use protection,” he mumbled and Stiles laughed shakily, tightening his hold on Derek’s hand.

“That’s ok, you didn’t know either,” he said softly and this time he did not flinch when Derek arched his back again and screamed, keeping a tight hold on his hand and gently talking him through the pain.

When it was over Stiles carefully brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of Derek’s face, cradling his chin with the other hand and his eyes firmly fixed on the werewolf’s.

“I’m sure you have gotten it through that thick brain of yours by now, but you realize that I love you, right? Thought I should say it at least once before we apparently become parents,” he said softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss against Derek’s lips.

“I love you so damn much, even if we are both royally stupid,” he breathed and Derek’s reply got caught of by a groan, as his body continued to push the child down through what was supposedly a wide enough birth canal but actually felt like a small exhaust pipe trying to let Barney the dinosaur pass through.

His eyes snapped up when the pain turned into pressure, becoming much more focused, and he gasped out for Melissa, who grabbed his calves and stroked them comfortingly.

“Do you need to push Derek?” she asked and Derek nodded, glad that she had put it into words for him because that was exactly what he felt he should be doing right now.

When the contraction was over Derek took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the sounds behind the closed bedroom door.

Now that he finally understood what was happening to him he was grateful that the pack was there, aware of how important it was for a newborn to be surrounded by its pack.

He could smell their anxiety and worry, but there was also excitement, and he could hear the Sheriff berating himself for not having said anything sooner, could hear Lydia chewing out Jackson for all the comments he had made about his Alpha’s weight gain, could hear Erica wondering if he was having a boy or a girl, and Allison questioning her father about male werewolf pregnancies.

He could hear all of their heartbeats and now that he was paying really close attention, he could hear his baby’s heartbeat as well, wondering how he had been able to miss it for so long.

It was faint, almost completely muffled by his own rapidly beating heart, but it was there, and the sound of it suddenly made the whole thing much more real, more tangible.

In the span of only a couple of hours he had gone from being miserable and alone to becoming a family of three with the man he loved more than anything and Derek was sure that once the child had been born safe and sound and everyone had had a chance to calm down, the emotional toll of the situation would probably catch up with him, but he really didn’t have time for that right now, a fact that became painfully obvious when the urge to push intensified again.

He put his chin to his chest and screamed and Stiles was holding him up as best as he could, his solid presence a source of comfort.

When it was over Melissa smiled encouragingly.

“You are doing great Derek, this baby is going to be here with the next push!” she promised and Derek grabbed at Stiles’ hand, squeezing it tightly.

“I love you, too,” he gasped, suddenly realizing that he had never said it back and Stiles kissed his knuckles, wetting them with the tears that had started to run down his face.

“Love you so freaking much Derek,” he replied and Derek inhaled deeply before he pressed his chin back towards his chest, letting out a pained howl as the head breached the birth canal.

“It’s really a baby, oh my god, Derek, it’s really a baby!” Stiles breathed as he craned his neck to see and Derek groaned when Melissa gently guided the child’s shoulders and arms out, sobbing in relief when the pressure between his legs suddenly disappeared, only to be replaced with pressure on his belly as Melissa placed a mewling, red, wrinkled little being on his naked stomach.

His mate’s observation had been accurate – it really was a baby, a surprisingly tiny baby given how large his stomach had been just this morning but then again it was almost a month early.

The thought shot through his dazzled wonder and his eyes snapped up to meet Melissa’s wet ones.

“It everything alright? It’s too early, Stiles and I became mates barely 37 weeks ago,” he gasped and Melissa nodded, her smile widening as the baby’s cries got louder, sounding strong and healthy as it squirmed on Derek’s stomach.

“That sounds healthy to me!” she said softly and Derek gently cradled the child, his eyes wide as he took in every little detail.

Next to him Stiles reached out a shaking hand and when he touched the baby more tears spilled down his cheek.

“Look Derek – we made a baby!” he whispered and Derek nodded, still too stunned at this unexpected turn of events to say much of anything.

“One head, two eyes, one little nose, one mouth, two ears, two arms, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten fingers, two legs, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten perfect little toes,” he reported, almost as if he needed to reassure himself that the child was real, his voice shaking.

Meanwhile, Derek stroked his finger across the baby’s cheek gently, his breath catching in his throat when it opened its eyes and stared at him with huge dark blue orbs.

“You forgot something important in your inventory Daddy!” Erica’s voice suddenly rang through the loft and Derek smiled, suddenly aware that the entire pack was hovering near the edge of the bedroom door, all of them smelling happy and excited.

“Huh?” Stiles said, sounding confused and Derek could hear Scott scoff in exasperation.

“It’s great that the baby has two legs and all that but what’s between the legs? We set up a betting pool like ten minutes ago and I’m not buying the celebratory drinks tonight!” Lydia clarified helpfully and Stiles blinked.

“Right! It’s a …” he looked closer and Derek, who had known the moment Melissa had placed the baby on his belly, angled it slightly so Stiles could see for himself.

“Holy crap!” Stiles whispered, eyes going wide when he stared at Derek.

“I have a daughter!”

The sounds coming from outside the bedroom seemed to indicate that the Sheriff had accidentally trampled over Isaac as he barged into the room, no longer willing to wait as he walked up to the bed and stared at his grandchild.

“Is it really a real baby?” he asked and Derek pressed his nose against the little girl’s soft hair, inhaling deeply as he scented his daughter for the first time.

“Definitely real,” he confirmed and the Sheriff clasped Stiles’ shoulder, staring at the baby with wide eyes.

“A little granddaughter?” he asked and Melissa, who had been rummaging in Derek’s bathroom, poked her head out and nodded.

“A little granddaughter,” she confirmed, walking back inside the room with a pair of scissors.

“Would you like to cut the cord Daddy?” she asked and Stiles blinked again, seemingly taking in the umbilical cord that was still connecting Derek and the child for the very first time.

“Uhm Derek? What is that even attached to?” he wondered and Derek, who did not have a freaking clue either, shrugged.

“Does it matter?” he asked and Stiles shook his head with a huge grin.

“Nope,” he said, and when he cut the cord he looked like the proudest father in the world, albeit a very freaked out one.

“Do you want to hold her?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded, looking as if she was a little bomb about to go off for a second when Melissa took her from Derek and placed her in her human father’s arms, before his terrified expression morphed into a huge, happy smile.

“She’s so small!” he whispered, looking at Derek with eyes full of wonder.

“Is she a little wolf?” he asked and Derek nodded.

“She smells like one,” he said softly, smiling widely when he heard the sound of shoving from outside the room.

“You guys can come in now,” he said as loudly as he could, not really surprised that his voice sounded quite raspy and Melissa placed a blanket over his legs and exposed lower belly when the rest of the pack tiptoed in.

“Dude – you’re a daddy!” Scott whispered and Stiles laughed, his eyes still glued to the baby.

“I am a daddy,” he repeated, once again looking at Derek with sparkling eyes.

“Did you hear that Derek? I’m a daddy! You just gave me a little baby-girl,” he exclaimed and Derek leaned back against the pillows with a gentle smile.

“I know – I was there,” he teased, smiling gratefully when Melissa handed him a glass of ice water.

“What’s her name?” Lydia asked and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“We found out about her imminent birth like two hours ago and since then we’ve been kind of busy so we really haven’t had time to discuss it yet,” he said, handing the baby back to Derek, who once again cradled her close to his chest.

“Do you have a name you like?” he asked and Stiles gaped.

“Are we going to name her right now? Shouldn’t we think about this some more?” he asked, sounding nervous and Derek glanced at the clock on his nightstand with a meaningful expression.

“We’ve got a little over an hour left until the new year, I don’t want our daughter to begin the new year without a name,” he said softly and Stiles puffed out his chest.

“Right!”

He turned towards the pack and smiled at them apologetically.

“We love you all, we really do, but this is something the two of us need to decide on our own so do you think you could …”

“Out the door we go,” Lydia said briskly, grabbing a protesting Jackson by the ear and steering him outside, throwing a “Congratulations you guys!” over her shoulder as they left.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were the next to go, followed by Chris, Allison, and a rather reluctant Scott, and after Melissa had helped Derek deliver the afterbirth and made sure again that the baby was in fact healthy, despite being so small, she gently guided the Sheriff out of the door as well.

When they were alone Stiles crawled onto the mattress next to Derek and wrapped his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, looking at their daughter in amazement.

“I think she’s got my mouth,” he observed and Derek nodded.

“And your nose,” he added proudly.

“Do you think she’s hungry?” Stiles asked when the baby began to make suckling motions and Derek shrugged.

“I think so,” he muttered and Stiles gently stroked along her little arm.

“Do you … I mean, can you …?” he asked, sounding unsure and Derek gently prodded at his chest.

It might have been just his imagination, but it did feel slightly fuller than the last time he had checked.

“I guess we have to find out,” he said softly, before he guided their daughter’s mouth to one nipple.

The baby latched on immediately and Derek uttered a surprised laugh when she began to suckle.

“I think I can,” he said incredulously and Stiles let out the breath he had been holding.

“That’s … really cool. I mean, I’m still super confused and don’t even think for a second that we are not going to have a long talk about jumping to conclusions, but this is just … it’s amazing,” he finally concluded and Derek nodded, unable to say anything when his emotions welled up in his chest.

“We still need to name her,” he said when he trusted himself to speak again and Stiles smiled.

“It’s not like I ever imagined a future for us where we lived in a house with a picket fence, a dog, and a handful of children, but in that future – that I totally never imagined ever –, our oldest little girl was always named … Leah. Leah also has a sister named Emily and a baby-sister named Olivia in case you would prefer either of those,” he said softly and Derek grinned.

“Just how many children did you never imagine us having?” he asked and Stiles blushed.

“Not too many – six maybe? Three boys and three girls, that’s reasonable, don’t you think? Maybe a seventh, an oopsie-baby for good luck.”

Derek laughed.

“We’ll see about that,” he mused, smiling at their daughter when he gently detached her from his chest and patted her back to burp her.

“Is your daddy right? Is your name Leah?” he asked and the baby yawned, squeezing her little eyes shut.

“Was that a yes baby-girl?” Stiles asked softly and Derek turned his head to press a gentle kiss against his mate’s lips.

“I didn’t hear any complaints,” he said and Stiles grinned, before he turned his gaze back towards their little girl.

“Hey Leah. I’m your daddy. This is your other daddy, although I think we’re going to have to come up with a different title so your human daddy won’t be too confused. I’m pretty sure there’ll be more than enough confusion as it is already, because your daddies can be really, really stupid. I’m sure you’ll find out sooner rather than later. But I love you both so much little girl, you have no idea how much I love you,” he whispered to both her and her father and Derek’s smile widened.

The next couple of weeks would probably be challenging, as they would not only have to adjust to being parents and actually being in a relationship, but also somehow come to terms with the 37 weeks of misery they had both put themselves through by being stubborn and terrible at communication, but as he watched the clock turn 0:00 in the arms of his mate and with their little girl cradled in his own arms, there was no doubt in his mind that the new year would be just the first of the best years of his life.