Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Stiles considered the hammer for a moment hoping that he looked like he was considering the science of civil engineering and not wondering whether he had it the right way around. Erica hopped into the room, far too perky for someone undertaking a long day of manual labor. But the Werewolf thing probably was helping her some.

When Scott had said that he was going to help rebuild the old Hale house Stiles had laughed. And laughed and laughed again for good measure. Spending the summer doing construction for people he didn't like? For Derek who was so on edge he definitely shouldn't be around power tools. Surely a recipe for disaster. But it turned out that Stiles was wrong... Scott did like the rest of his pack.

How Stiles had gotten drafted in? Well, he wished he could say that was a much better story but really he was there because his best friend was and he was bored without him. He gave a wide birth to Derek, Erica and Isaac but Boyd was also pretty okay to hang out with.

Stiles looked from the hammer to Erica. She was a hot little psychopath and no mistake. She scooched up onto the crumbling cabinet they were about to rip out and inspected her bare foot. The sole was black from running around outside all day in the dirt. Her cut-off jeans rode up her leg and Stiles looked away quickly. That was how she got you.

He must not have looked away quickly enough though as laughter bubbled out of her, echoing through the empty house.

“It's ok, you can look.”

“Look..? Oh I wasn't... I'm just about to...” hammer the cabinet out of the wall? He looked from the hammer to the cabinet and decided that this just wasn't his forte. Erica laughed again and jumped to the floor, ignoring the little wobble the cabinet made behind her.

“I'm sure you were,” she took the hammer from his hand and threw it to the floor, “but I think you've earned a break.”

“I've only been here ten minutes,” Stiles pointed out, not really helping himself.

“Ten minute break then...” as she stepped closer to him he backed into the wall. No escape. “I'm sure we can find some way to spend the time.” She reached out and trailed a hand up his stomach and over his chest, the sharp points of her nails just touching the skin of his neck.

“Hey!” he pushed her hand away but found they were just girl nails, not wolf nails.

“You don't want to play?”

“Look, Erica, you're all kinds of hot,” and all kinds of crazy, “but I have this little memory of you beating me up not too long ago so...”

“Stiles,” just by saying his name her demeanour changed. Suddenly she seemed a lot more real, “I also told you recently that I used to have a crush on you. A big one. And for whatever reason... maybe it's my fault for not telling you... nothing happened then. But it could now. I know you like how I look now...”

“I liked how you looked before too, uh...” Stiles was a little lost for words, still not completely trusting this new Erica but starting to believe. A little of old Erica slipped out as she rolled her eyes at this.

“Please, I didn't know anything back then. Now, I'm new and improved,” she put her hands on her hips and posed for him. His eyes travelled south before he could stop them. Stupid eyes. “See?” she smiled. “Now lets stop eating into those ten minutes with talk.”

She leant in close, their noses almost touching. It did feel like a trick, a trap, but Stiles was still a teenage boy looking at one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. He tilted his head--

“Erica,”

The growl from the doorway caused Stiles to freeze, lips still puckered, and caused Erica to leap back, just to make him look even more ridiculous. Derek was standing in the doorway scowling (when wasn't he scowling?) at the two of them.

“Yes?” Erica asked sweetly, pushing away the guilty look that had flashed across her face.

“Boyd needs some help out back with the brambles.”

She scowled at him but there was only going to be one winner in that competition so she shrugged at Stiles and skipped out of the room as if there was nothing she'd rather do than walk barefoot through a bramble patch. Stiles had composed himself somewhat since Derek had walked in but now being left alone with the Alpha he felt his palms start to sweat. Which he was pretty sure was a medical condition.

“Hey, y'know, we weren't doing anything,” he felt the need to say for some reason, “but... well... even if we were what's the big deal hey?”

But other than another large scowl he got nothing off the wolf who turned and walked back out of the kitchen. What was that guy's problem?

“Nice chat,” Stiles muttered as he crouched down on the floor and looked at the array of tools in front of him. Maybe a screwdriver?

After his success in the kitchen (read: almost stabbing himself in the arm and letting Scott take out the cabinet with his Werewolf strength) Stiles made his way out in the garden. This he was better at. He knew a bramble and he knew how to use snippers. Easy. Heads bobbing up and down as they snipped he could see both Boyd and Erica far into the bramble patch.

“Hey!” Stiles waved when they looked up, “Coming in!”

After several 'ow's' and one return trip to fetch the snippers he'd left behind, Stiles finally made it to Erica, but wished he hadn't by the pissed off expression on her face.

“What's up?” he asked disingenuously.

“What's up? You got me put on this crap job and now my feet are all cut up to hell.”

“Uh what? You were the one being all sexy vixen – I'd like to apologise for using that word - I was just standing there when old sour wolf came in and did his whole grumpy thing. Also, wear some shoes?”

“Sour wolf?”

“It's a thing... He doesn't like me. Well, I'm thinking more that he doesn't like anyone, because I'm pretty adorable.”

“Just go away Stiles.”

“Hey, I came to help... and we all agree about the adorable thing right?”

“We're here because we're pack. Scott's here because he's pack. You're deficient in that area.”

“Erica,” Boyd said, shooting her a warning look like she was revealing some white elephant truth that everyone but Stiles knew. She glared back at him but then lowered her head as if fascinated by a particularly ugly bramble. Still, she couldn't resist adding,

“No-one wants you here Stiles, go home.”

“No-one—you seemed like you wanted me here in the kitchen?! Not five minutes ago!”

But Stiles could tell that things were different now, whether that Erica in the kitchen was the real one or this one was he didn't know but kitchen!Erica was certainly not here now. With much muttering he made his way back through the brambles and over to his Jeep. He'd text Scott when he got home. He hadn't wanted to be there anyway but knowing that everyone else felt the same way kinda hurt. He'd just about readjusted his summer plans to months of video games when he saw Derek exiting the house with half of the bannister tucked under his arm ready for the pile of crap they were building. A pile of crap that might soon be a building judging by its size. When he'd arrived Stiles had asked if they were having a bonfire and everyone had gone quiet. A giant fire probably wasn't the best idea... come to think about it. It was this reminder of Derek's family that made Stiles bite back his words. That and the whole scary Alpha Werewolf thing. Instead he tried to mimic Derek's trademark scowl... and hoped that the surprised look (well, more a surprised eyebrow really) that Derek shot him was because he'd done it right, not because he was looking super constipated.

He'd just reached the part in his game where he always died when Scott called him. The fact that he scrambled over his bed and abandoned his character to certain doom rather than take an extra millisecond to press pause was pretty sad but he thought he did a tolerable job of sounding nonchalant when he said, “Sup?” well, other than using the word 'sup' of course.

“Hey, you not coming up to the house today?”

“Nah... I'm busy, lots of stuff going on..” he said, crawling back across the floor chasing his controller in an effort to stop his character from chopping off her own leg.

“Like?” Scott asked, unimpressed.

“Ah Scott,” Stiles gave up and leant up against his bed, “You saw through my cunning charade. I can't lie to you you scamp.”

“So? We could really use a bit more help here buddy,”

“Really? A pack of Werewolves with superstrength and reflexes need my help. With a job that I have no idea how to do. Really?”

“Ok, it's just kinda boring here.”

“Look Scott, I know I'm hilarious, but the best acts know how to stay out of the limelight so they don't get stale.”

“Eh?” Scott was lost and honestly despite being super-eager to hear from him, so was Stiles.

“Look Scott, if my dad knew about Werewolves, I'm sure he'd tell me not to go into a pack of them when I've already outstayed my welcome.”

“What?” Clearly it was spelling it out time.

“It's ok, Erica told me you guys don't like hanging out with non-pack people. That's cool. Bet we smell kinda like dinner to you right? Can be hard working when you're hungry, I know”

“Stiles, what are you talking about? Hold on--”

It was a pretty good thing that Scott told him to hold on as Stiles had already started feeling like he was whining. What did he care about fixing some old house? It had seemed like an acceptable way to spend some time while goofing off with Scott over summer break but it was when you brought Werewolves into the equation that he should have backed out. Speaking of...

In the background he heard Scott call Derek. The gruff 'what?' could only come from that pleasant character. 'You don't think Stiles smells weird or something?' Stiles buried his head in his hands. Yes, apparently that was what Scott had taken from their conversation. Despite himself he strained his ears to hear the response, if he listened hard enough he might be able to hear the scowl. 'What? No'. That was it. Not a ringing endorsement but hey he passed the Werewolf nose test. Though the idea of Derek ever smelling him was a bit strange.

“Derek doesn't know what you're talking about either. You coming over?”

“I... sure,” resistance was futile, and someone as precious as Scott clearly needed a little looking after.

When he got to the house he saw he was not the only one invited. Jackson, Lydia and Allison were there too along with the pack. Despite being a Werewolf now Jackson was still insistent on going it alone so he usually actively avoided any kind of pack gathering. Scott walked up to him as he got out of the Jeep.

“We finished stripping the house. Lydia brought popsicles,” he said this last bit with such joy that it was easy to forget that he was a Werewolf, heck it was easy to forget that he was older than eleven.

He approached the group, stooping to pick up a popsicle from the cooler on the way, and put on his best cheerful face to say, “Hey guys!”

Whether he was welcome or not he couldn't tell because their expressions didn't change. Allison at least said hey but the rest kept talking about something drywall related. Erica was perched on the arm of the old disgusting sofa, Boyd was leaning on a sledgehammer. Stiles eyes scanned their faces but he got a little distracted from his mission of 'is Stiles welcome or not' by Lydia. She was standing there, listening to Jackson arguing with Isaac about something, sucking on a popsicle. It was filthy. Or at least to Stiles' filthy mind it was. He glanced around the group to see if anyone else was seeing this but miraculously none of them seemed in the least bit interested. Stiles only realised he must have been staring when Lydia finally spotted him and dropped the popsicle to ask, “What?!”

With the whole group's attention on him finally Stiles felt his face flush and said defensively, “Nothing!” before ensuring no follow up questions by shoving his entire popsicle into his mouth. Like, right down his throat. And that sucker was cold. He glanced around the group and then found his watering eyes drawn to a figure in the doorway of the house. Derek was standing there, dust covered, staring at him with eyes wide. Wordlessly he turned and walked back inside the house. Erica let out a howl of laughter that broke the silence and in her amusement fell off the sofa to the ground, still laughing.

“Wuhhat?” Stiles asked through a mouthful of ice.

So it turned out the best way for Stiles to help with the house was to keep other people who were working on it supplied with food and drink. He was good at it too, even if his first efforts had been described as 'too healthy'. Even Derek ate what he brought.

He was queuing in the coffee shop, trying to keep the various orders in his head, when a girl nudged into him and broke his train of thought.

“Sorry,”

She was, quite frankly, gorgeous. Long dark curly hair, green eyes, curves all over.

“No problem,” he said. Usually this would have been the end of the conversation. But she hadn't gone about her business, she was standing staring at him in a way that made him shift on his feet nervously. He swore he could see surprise in her eyes but her mouth was curled into a huge grin.

“Jess,” she said, offering her hand.

“Stiles Stilinski,” he said, wondering why he'd given his full name as he shook her hand. She didn't let go, pulling him out of the line.

“Let me buy your coffee to make up for it,”

“Uh, actually I've got quite a big order to--” ah screw it, they could cope without their caffeine fix for a little bit, they were fricking Werewolves for goodness sake, and talking to cute girl suddenly took top priority in Stiles' day, “--yeah, sure”. He smiled at her and she smiled back and he wondered if they were flirting because he really didn't have that much experience in that sort of thing, or with girls who actually liked him.

“Cool. I'm new in town, mind getting it to go and showing me around the main attractions?”

“Sure!” Stiles backtracked from that frankly desperately excited response, “I mean, that's cool. Don't get your hopes up though, Beacon Hills has very little to offer,”

“Oh I doubt that,” she said, still smiling. Definitely flirting. Right? This was so good it was weird.

Chapter Text

“Ugh....” Stiles let out a groan. He thought he had his eyes open but he couldn't see a thing. His head felt about three times the size it normally was. Where was he? After stepping outside of the coffee shop the rest of his day was a blur. He hoped that not seeing anything meant that it was night time but then that meant it must have been at least ten hours since his last memory. He tried to turn his head and a wave of nausea gripped him. From his vision swimming he managed to pinpoint a spot of light that hadn't been there before and when everything focussed again he could tell he was looking up at the glow from some kind of electric light. Street light? Car? He couldn't tell. He could see one thing though. He was at the bottom of a very deep grave-like hole. Panic cleared his head a little. He was in the ground. Someone had knocked him out and dug his grave. Not a good sign.

He felt something move beside him and let out a little shriek. It was then that he noticed Derek lying beside him in the hole. Once he noticed him he wasn't sure why he hadn't before. The two of them were sharing a grave-for-one and it was pretty cramped in there. He put it down to the concussion and the fear of being buried alive. He tried to reach out to shake Derek when he realised his wrists were tied together. Great.

“Derek,” he whispered. No response. Never wake a sleeping Alpha usually seemed like good advice but in this situation... He rocked up against him, dropping his shoulder into Derek's chest, “Derek!”

Derek grunted and his eyes opened slowly. At the sight of Stiles lying beside him his mouth opened with surprise.

“Hi,” Stiles said weakly.

“What are you doing here?” Derek growled, accusing, like Stiles very presence was offensive to him.

“Uh...being held captive?” said Stiles, a little offended, “Believe me, it's not my first choice of nights out either,”

Derek looked around, quickly taking in the whole situation, “Who did this?”

“Probably someone from your long list of fans, how I got dragged into it--”

“Shut up,” Derek said, clearly feeling he'd been filled in enough. He squirmed where he was lying and couldn't seem to free his hands, “Chains with Wolfsbane coating” he said by way of explanation and then, “You're bleeding,”

He was looking up at Stiles' eyebrow like it offended him. Or maybe it just made him hungry.

“Sorry?” Stiles offered, not quite sure why Derek was bothered by such a small thing, “I think the real problem is our impending deaths though.”

“Are your legs free?”

“Yes.” Stiles said, wiggling them to make sure. Weak, but free.

“I'm going to climb on top of you and you need to try and boost me up with your legs.”

“Uh what? Can't you just jump up?”

“Not while I'm wearing these,” he said, already shuffling himself around. Stiles barely had enough time to prepare himself before Derek was lying on top of him. And look, fit and well muscled he might be, but he was also incredibly heavy as a dead weight. He looked up into Derek's face but found just the usual unreadable expression.

“Now?” Stiles asked through gritted teeth as he struggled to keep his lungs working. Then Derek did something strange. He pressed his face into Stiles' neck. And took a really big sniff. Stiles would have made a comment about personal space but clearly Derek didn't like what he smelled because he recoiled, somehow managing to sit up so he was now just straddling Stiles' legs as if he was trying to get as far away from the smell as possible. Erica was right!

“What did you do today Stiles?” his tone was accusatory.

“What did I do? Well, I didn't tie myself up and throw myself into a hole with a Werewolf if that's what you're asking. I met a girl in the coffee shop--”

Derek let out and exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“She was--”

“Hey boys, having fun down there?”

Staring down at them, given a halo by the light behind her, was Jess, the girl from the coffee shop. Stiles was suddenly very conscious that Derek was still straddling him.

“Jessica,” Derek growled and Stiles felt his whole body tense up.

“Oh crap,” she was a Werewolf, of course she was. And now he was going to die because he was seventeen and horny. Like so many before him. But there was still some hope, “Hey... Jess.. Derek's the Alpha around here, I don't think you know--”

“The current Alpha, Stiles, current.”

Oh great. As usual he'd been caught in the middle of some supernatural bullshit. Jessica disappeared from view and he couldn't resist muttering, “Told you this was probably your fault,”

“My fault? Who got himself caught in the first place?”

“Wait... did you come to rescue me?”

Whatever the answer was Stiles never heard it over a deep rumble in the earth to his right. It sounded like something big was moving towards them. Big and heavy. And he knew what it was because of course all graves have to be filled in. Derek realised too but it was too late to do anything about it as a tidal wave of earth dropped into the hole. Derek was forced down flat on top of Stiles again and this time they were both struggling to breathe.

“Uh, werewolf strength might be good now..” Stiles gasped.

“Wolfsbane..” Derek gasped, “in the earth...”

And it finally hit Stiles how screwed he was because it seemed that in their current conditions he was actually the stronger of the two of them.

A second wave of earth dropped on them, pressing them tighter together. Stiles wriggled his arms behind his back. He was only tied up with rope, not chains. That was something. His fingers searched around for something sharp, something to cut away at them with. Then he kicked himself. Or he would have if he hadn't been pinned down by a two-hundred-pound werewolf and half a graveful of dirt. Because he was the Sheriff's son. He fumbled about for a second then pulled the swiss army knife out of his back pocket. With some difficulty he flicked open the knife and promptly stabbed himself in the wrist. Ignoring the pain and the sticky sensation he assumed was blood he repositioned the knife and started sawing. Another wave of dirt fell down but this time didn't seem to add any additional weight. Or at least that was how it appeared until he looked up into Derek's face and saw how pale and sweaty it was. He had braced his knees against the ground and was trying to hold the dirt up, giving them both space to breathe for a little longer. The only thanks that Stiles could give was to cut through the ropes at his back. With some difficulty he brought his arms around. Not only were they stiff but the earth around them was getting tighter packed by the second. He didn't have time to think about claustrophobia though, Derek looked about ready to croak. He slid his hands around his back to the silver chains. They weren't locked, just twisted in a way that meant someone sensitive to Wolfsbane wouldn't be able to get them off. He wondered how Jess had put them on. Gloves? Derek's arms were free but the earth filled with Wolfsbane was clearly too much for him to handle and his attempts to keep it off Stiles were just sapping his energy more.

“Ok, when I say move, you drop” Stiles gasped.

“What?”

“I have to get out from under you if I'm going to dig us out.”

“Dig?”

Derek's ability to express himself in monosyllables was usually quite admirable but right now it was irritating.

“Just trust me.”

Whether Derek did or not was beside the point as the weight was clearly getting to much for him and when Stiles said 'now' he let it drop with relief. Scooting out of the way at the last moment Stiles saw Derek disappear under a mound of earth before the rest of it hit him. He threw up his arms to protect his head and let it come, buffeting him on all sides. When the flood had stopped he started digging. It was as ridiculously slow as you'd imagine but the earth was loose and dry and aside from its weight it was fairly easy to shift. He tried not to think of Derek getting crushed to death below him as he inched upwards out of the hole in the ground. His head hit air but he didn't stop to fill his lungs until he was pulling himself up out of the half-filled grave, then he lay on his back, coughing up the earth he'd swallowed and trying to suck in oxygen at the same time. Too late he remembered Jessica.

A heeled boot smashed into his ribs, sending him flying and knocking all that hard-fought-for oxygen out of his lungs. But hey, at least he landed next to a shovel. When he heard her approaching he swung it around and clocked her on the side of the head, surprise his only real weapon. The blow only made her laugh though. But it was enough. Behind Jessica the pack gathered, amber pin-pricks of light shining out of the darkness. She turned around too late and Scott had her on the ground in a millisecond.

“Derek--” Stiles gasped, pointing to the dip in the ground that used to be a hole. Erica, Boyd and Isaac quickly crouched to dig but it was slow going by their standards with every mound burning their hands. Stiles dragged himself over to the hole and handed over the shovel. With Erica digging in earnest and Stiles using his hands they soon reached the limp form of Derek in the ground. The wolves pulled him out and Stiles dusted off as much of the earth as he could. A splash of cold water was his first warning that someone had found a bucket and a tap but the cold brought a little colour back to Derek's face, even if that colour was slightly lighter blue. Stiles pressed his fingers to Derek's neck and felt the faint pulse still pounding, “He's alive,” he coughed, his throat feeling like he'd swallowed half the dirt himself, the cough only caused his ribs to ache and he vaguely remembered being kicked across the ground at some point, “Hospital?”

“We'll take care of him,” Erica said, helping Isaac to lift Derek, “back at the house. Scott can take you to the hospital.”

“Oh, I'm fine..” Stile said, trying and failing to stand up. He blinked down at his bleeding hands and tried to remember what had just happened. Scott was at his side and lifting him before he could say anything else or ask questions as to what had happened to Jessica. He just had time to admire the night sky before he blacked out again.

“Stiles!” the voice was urgent, desperate, but sounded far away and muffled in the blackness.

He opened his eyes and his hospital room was empty. The sounds of the beeping machines his only friends. He lifted his arm gingerly and saw an IV hooked up just above an impressive looking bandage that stretched from his hand all the way to his elbow. A tight feeling in his chest told him his ribs were also bandaged but he didn't have enough time to assess any more of the damage or to see if he was in one of those assless gowns because that's when his dad walked in.

“Stiles,”

He looked tired. No, exhausted. He leant over and kissed Stiles on the forehead before giving his shoulder a squeeze that was just a little too hard.

“How are you feeling?”

“You've not been eating from the vending machines have you?” Stiles asked, eyeing a stain on his dad's shirt. The fact that his dad could give him an irritated look still told him that at least he wasn't dying.

“Boy am I not the one in trouble here,”

“Is Scott here?” The idea that he might have to try and explain his injuries suddenly popped up in his mind and he didn't want to contradict whatever the others had said.

“Yes, he's outside, all your little friends are,”

“All?” Stiles blinked at him perplexed. Allison maybe?

“Yes, but I want to hear from you first what happened.”

Stiles searched his mind, “Well...I'm really not feeling...”

“Stiles,” his dad's tone was warning.

“Okay--” but whatever super-awesome story he was about to tell was stopped by a loud disorientating bang. Derek stood in his doorway looking wide-eyed and more than a little peaky. And it felt like he'd brought the wind with him from outside because Stiles had to hold down his gown. Yep, assless. Derek took in Stiles and his dad's shocked expressions and tried to make himself look more presentable. Unfortunately straightening out his hair only caused a shower of soil to fall on the clean-looking hospital floor. Stiles' dad stood up from the bed slowly, putting himself between Derek and his son.

“Mr Hale,” he acknowledged, tersely, knowingly or not his hand was straying towards his holster.

“Sheriff,” Derek nodded cautiously.

“And what do you have to do with all of this?”

Stiles peered around his father and tried to express in gesture form that he'd not told his father anything yet. He stopped when he gestured a little too violently and tugged on his IV line, wincing at the pain. Derek's expression darkened and Stiles guessed that he didn't like charades.

“Well... Stiles and the others were helping me renovate my house--”

“--Stiles was helping you what?!” his dad couldn't have sounded more surprised if Derek had said that Stiles had been helping Derek build a rocket ship so he could return to his home planet.

“-- And Stiles fell into this pit we'd dug.”

Great, the guy couldn't come up with some story that didn't make him look like a giant klutz. Last time he saved his life that's for sure.

“He fell. Into a pit?” The fact that the Sheriff was buying this probably should have mortally offended Stiles but at least he could overcome the anxiety he'd been feeling over coming up with a cover story. Falling into a pit had a beautiful simplicity. “What were you digging a pit for exactly?”

The pause is all that Stiles needs to chip in helpfully, “The rats”. The two men look at him. “Well... there were loads of rats, Derek's not the tidiest of people... so we were going to bury them... in a pit,” he thought for a moment then perfected his story, “Dead.”

“And you thought you'd use a bunch of teenagers as cheap labor?” Stiles' dad said, not indicating whether he believed the rat story or not, his anger fully focussed on Derek.

“We were just helping out dad because we're,” Stiles swallowed, “friends.”

He wondered if Derek would challenge this view but knew that he couldn't if he wanted to keep his cover.

“Stiles, me and Mr Hale are going to talk about this down at the station. I'll send Scott in.” He ushered Derek from the room but not before the Alpha could give Stiles another trademark scowl. What did a guy have to do to get a break?

Seconds later Scott walked in followed by Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Allison, Lydia and even Jackson. They all look super moody.

“Hi guys,” Stiles waves weakly.

“Hey Stiles, how're you feeling?” Scott asked.

“Yeah fine. Well, not fine but pretty glad I'm not trying to fight my way out of an early grave anymore. How're you guys? I mean... I didn't know you all cared.” No-one answered him. “Did something else happen? With Jessica?”

“The Argents took care of her.” Isaac said, avoiding Allison's eye. Stiles tried to feel bad about it, but the memory of gasping for air and burrowing through earth was too fresh in his mind.

“Good,” he said after a considered moment. No-one questioned his response but the mood in the room lightened a little. “So what's my prognosis? Am I gonna make it?”

“Broken ribs, stitches in your hand and face--”

“MY FACE” Stiles lifted his free hand to touch tentatively at the dressing over his right eyebrow, “but it's a sexy scar right?”

“Yeah, you look real glamorous,” Jackson said, rolling his eyes.

“Mom says it won't scar,” Scott added.

“And uh, Mr Bad-and-Moody? I mean he looked fine--”

“He came here as soon as he woke up,” Boyd frowned.

“He's recovering.” Scott added again, the only person who seemed to be trying to be comforting.

“How did Jessica know?” Isaac asked, fixing Stiles with a glare.

“Know what?”

“Well, obviously she smelled him.” Erica butted in. Stiles felt he was going to start getting a complex.

“What, just by chance?”

“Where did you meet her?” Erica asked.

“In the coffee shop. She seemed nice... from what I can remember of our conversation until she knocked me out and decided to bury me alive. So, you're saying she smelt the pack on me and that's why she went after me?”

“Not the p--” Isaac was stopped short by Erica elbowing him in the ribs.

“Yes,” she answered. He shot the two of them a suspicious look but neither face gave anything away.

Chapter Text

It was two more days until Stiles got out of the hospital. Despite Scott's mom coming to check up on him almost every hour it was still a deathly boring experience and he was glad to be out, even if his chest hurt every time he moved. His dad rather begrudgingly said that he'd had to let Derek off with a warning, especially as Stiles had refused to make an official statement.

Now, Stiles has managed to survive all manner of supernatural attack and half his class seemed to be werewolves. But it was only in those days after the hospital that things started to get really weird. At first he thought he was just imagining it, maybe in some sort of comedown from the hospital painkillers, but it almost seemed like Derek was.... being nice to him?

It was creepy.

He first noticed it when he trundled up to the Hale house again for the first time after the attack. Someone had kindly filled in his would-be grave with an apple tree sapling which was thoughtful of them. Marking the spot in history forever. When he got out of the car, wincing a little at a tug on his ribs, Derek was like... right. there.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, scowling (of course).

“Why yes I am feeling fine, thanks for asking. I'm here to help you moron,” he felt he'd earned the right to call Derek a moron a couple of times at least. Derek looked him up and down as if fighting some internal struggle then grunted finally,

“Bathroom needs tiling,” before stalking back into the house. Stiles was touched by his concern.

Nothing was particularly weird so far. Usual moody shit. But when he was crouched on the floor, ass in the air, pressing a tile into place he felt eyes on him and turned to see Derek in the doorway. “Good job,” he grunted, disappearing before Stiles could work out what was happening. Derek might as well have french kissed him for all the surprise Stiles felt. He even cancelled his plans to spell something rude out on the floor with different coloured tiles.

Bathroom done (and looking pretty amazing if Stiles did say so himself) Stiles started helping Isaac out repairing the roof. Because he was stupid he forgot he couldn't really grab the ladder with his left hand yet and on his third time up (yes, he was stupid) he felt the ladder wobbling beneath him only to be steadied by Derek. He climbed down gingerly and took in Derek's disapproving look.

“Uh, thanks,”

Derek grabbed his bandaged hand and inspected it roughly.

“Ow,” Stiles grabbed his hand back as Derek's finger poked a little too hard on one of the stitches, “Nurse Hale is more of a Ratchet type huh?”

“It's healing slowly,” Derek commented.

“It's healing at human rate...” Stiles said, crossing his arms defensively. “Not all of us have Werewolf powers,” And it was true that Derek had been back to his dark, glowering best just a couple of days later. And physical wounds aside Stiles still woke up six or seven times a night, gasping for air. But it wasn't being in the earth he dreamed of, it was the hospital. Too many bad memories. Derek was looking at him in a strange thoughtful way so Stiles felt it was time to disrupt whatever creepy thing was going on in his mind, “Even if we do smell alike.” He grinned at the scowl that this elicited. Much more Derek.

“What?”

“The guys told me. I smell like pack. That's why she came after me or whatever. I can't really tell. But then people with really bad BO are always the last ones to notice it.” He frowned and sniffed at his shirt. It was hard to smell anything outside of putty and ceramics. He shrugged. “I guess you guys would tell me if I smelled bad. Or we'd all smell bad together.” He felt like he'd successfully mined this vein of conversation but Derek hadn't started talking again or walked away so he was starting to feel awkward just standing there being glared at. “So... smell bad?”

“Stiles,” Isaac called down from the roof, following up his name with a whistle, “Nails!”

Stiles reached out for the box of nails that he'd placed down on the ladder when thinking he was going to plunge to his death. Derek snatched it from his hands and flung it up onto the roof. There was a thud, the clinking of loose nails showering down and some rather liberal uses of Stiles' name but when Isaac looked over the edge of the roof and saw Derek he said nothing. This moody and aggressive Derek was the one Stiles was far more comfortable with.

“So, I guess I'll just... find something else to help out with...” Stiles indicated vaguely in the way of the house, forgetting about his ribs again and biting back the stab of pain.

“Go home Stiles,” Derek snapped. And although Stiles had been thinking the same thing himself ever since nearly falling off the ladder he had a megalomania for never doing what people ordered him to do.

“I'll see what Scott's up to,” he said loftily, looking around. Derek clapped an arm around his shoulder and began to frog march him back to his Jeep and for a guy who was so concerned about his health he was really manhandling him quite roughly.

“Hey!” Stiles protested as the door of his Jeep was ripped open and he was forced inside. Derek slammed the door and stood there glowering at him. “I guess I can take a hint,” Stiles said weakly, taking out his keys and turning them in the ignition. Nothing happened. He turned them again. Still nothing. He looked up to see Derek had already popped the hood and was poking around inside his engine. “Wow, you're really invested in getting me to go,” Stiles said, winding down his window and sticking his head out. Derek was saved from having to make a response, which he wouldn't have anyway, by Stiles' phone.

“Stiles, where are you?”

“Hi dad, just hanging out with Scott,”

“Well I'm getting home early tonight so family dinner. Which means—”

“I have to cook if I'm going to stop you from getting take-out. Ok, I'll stop by the store,”

“Scott can stop by too if his mom is working.”

“Ok, thanks dad, I'll ask,”

“I don't have to worry about anything you two are getting up to do I? Please tell me you're just playing video games and not around at the Hale house. You promised me.”

“Dad, trust me,”

His father snorted and said his goodbyes, booking the family dinner in for seven. Once his phone was back in his pocket he called out, “Is there any chance you didn't hear all of that?” Derek slammed down the hood of his car, walked around, climbed in through the window, leaning across Stiles and turned the key. The Jeep sprang into life. “Hey thanks,” Derek just stepped back and glared Stiles all the way off his property.

So school started again and Stiles never thought he'd be so happy for the distraction. Scott had come around for dinner that night and when his dad was out of the room had awkwardly explained that Derek didn't want Stiles helping with the house anymore. He'd seemed really apologetic and promised to hang out with him loads but that felt like a whole lot of pity to Stiles. He couldn't blame Derek for not wanting to get the Sheriff pissed off he supposed and resting the last couple of weeks of summer had allowed him to heal properly, but only bodily as his mind nearly died from boredom. There was only so many times he could refresh tumblr or google the different kinds of supernatural effluvia (Wiki was a timesuck) before he was looking back fondly on being buried alive.

He got his stitches out a couple of days before school and Scott's mom told him happily that he'd be all fit for lacrosse. This didn't lift his spirits like she'd thought though as despite his last minute heroics last term the team was going to be packed with super-strong Werewolves this term and he was going to be back to sitting on the bench. Still, it would be nice to see the pack again. Scott had told him they'd finished doing up the house, now all it needed was furnishing. He hadn't been able to hide his excitement that every member of the pack had a bedroom, even if most of them were still living in their own homes. But what teenager doesn't want a secret make-out room that no parents can burst in to.

And then on the first day of school he met Megan, a very short blonde girl who was quiet and sweet. She'd meet him the hallways and would babble on almost as much as he did if you could believe that was possible. Of course his eyes were always drawn to Lydia but she was back with Jackson and seemed further out of reach than ever. When Megan asked him out he said yes. They went to the movies... to the park... to restaurants... she was nice and sweet and... completely boring. The only thing they both seemed to be passionate about was Stiles, but he wasn't enough of an egomaniac to think that was enough.

The night of the first lacrosse game came up and Stiles decided to spend his time on the bench deciding how to break up with Megan. She hated sports but had come to support him on the bench anyway. Yeah, she was just that sweet... and just that hard to break up with. But once the game started he was too engrossed in watching to think much about Megan at all. When he remembered she was there he turned to glance backwards, hoping that maybe she'd gone. Instead his eye was caught by Derek. Sitting in the crowd. Right behind him. Creepy. But... Stiles had to admit that he found the idea that Derek had come to watch his pack play kinda sweet. Especially for the likes of Isaac. But the idea of Derek being able to do anything sweet took him right back around to creepy again.

Derek saw him looking so Stiles gave a totally nerdy little wave and smile. Embarrassing. The whistle blew for half-time and as Stiles grabbed his pads and started to follow the team into the dressing room he saw a short blonde person making her way towards him. He hung back and Megan flung her arms around his neck, quite a feat for someone so short. “Hey,” he said uncertainly.

“They're doing great, huh?” she enthused. She was also really enthusiastic. They were losing.

“Stilinski!” coach yelled, “you can pet your groupies later, I need you in the changing room!”

Stiles opened his mouth to reply and found Megan taking that opportunity to kiss him. They'd only kissed a couple of times before so it was a surprise, but a nice one, and he had to be physically grabbed by the coach before Megan let go of him. Being dragged into the changing room he caught sight of Derek glowering at him. A little punch drunk still he grinned, “Geez, get a new facial expression”.

Unsurprisingly he was still on the bench second half. Derek had moved into a spot even closer, if that was possible, and as soon as Stiles sat down he pulled him backwards so that he could speak to him. “Your girlfriend?”

“Your business?” Stiles countered. He didn't try to embarrass himself by trying to get out of Derek's grip. But Derek had nothing else to say, he just huffed and let Stiles go. By the end of the match (they won) he'd just about managed to forget that Derek was there when a hand grabbed him again and pulled him backwards.

“Scott is coming over this weekend to paint.”

“Uh... okay?!” if it was an invitation it was certainly a bizarre one but he couldn't question further as when he looked around Derek was gone and Megan was bouncing towards him again.

The painting of the front room had gone well. Part of that might have been to do with the fact that despite the invitation Derek hadn't been present at the whole repainting party so the atmosphere had been relaxed. They were all exhausted and paint covered by the end of it. He couldn't remember who had flopped down on the covered couch first but soon they were all crammed in, a warm mass of bodies to fight off the cool night air.

Stiles woke with Isaac's head on his lap, Erica's arm draped across his chest and what he thought was Scott's foot pressing into his side. And Derek looking down on the whole lot of them with an actual goddamn smile on his face. He hid it quickly when he saw Stiles was awake but the memory of it was still there in Stiles' mind. Derek happy. Happy Derek. It didn't seem quite right.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, attempting to stretch without waking anyone else up. Erica's arm tightened around him, “ok, I'm not getting up any time soon without any help so if you want me gone...”

“No. Stay.” Derek shook his head and looked away at the wall, “I mean... if you want,”

“Well, it is pretty comfortable here, you should try it.” Goddamn it, what the hell did that mean?

Derek blinked at him but eventually shook his head, “No, you sleep Stiles,” before leaving the room.

But it was kinda hard to sleep when you're completely confused.

Stiles sighed, “Just go for it...” he muttered before dialling. A sleepy voice answered on the other end of the phone, “Hey, Derek... It's Stiles... what did you do to my car that time and can you describe it to me down the phone?”

It was a bitingly cold morning and he had to be at school in a few minutes. He was desperate. And maybe he'd felt like testing the boundaries of this new not-pack-but-sorta-pack relationship.

“Crack the hood, I'll be there in ten minutes,”

“Hey, thanks man but no need--” the line went dead. Apparently the non-pack relationship was still a pretty good thing. Sure enough Derek was there in ten minutes, wrapped up in a ridiculous amount of layers. He barely grunted hello before reaching inside the car and fiddling with something for a couple of minutes. Yes that's right, an Alpha werewolf coming to his house at 7am to fix his car. He must have been carrying some serious guilt about almost getting Stiles' killed with his smell. Stiles idly wondered what else he could milk Derek for before his goodwill ran out. But then it struck him that guilt was pretty much a way of life for Derek, with what happened to his family, and he went back to feeling bad about getting Derek out to bed for his stupid car.

Derek leant further into the car, his many layers rising up as one to reveal the small of his back to the chill morning air. Stiles' eyes fixed on that small patch of skin for a moment. Then down to the strap of his belt and--

“Try it,”

“What?” Stiles blinked, his face flushing.

“The ignition,” Derek explained, exasperated.

“Oh,” Stiles stumbled into the car and turned the key. It started. Derek straightened up and closed the hood, “Thanks,” Stiles said weakly.

“It's a piece of crap,” Derek frowned.

“I know,” silence hung between them for a few moments. “You want a lift back home?”

“No, I can get there quicker on foot.”

“Well...” Stiles had nothing more to say and he found that he desperately wanted to get away from those Werewolf super senses right now, “Thanks again, bye!”

When he glanced in his rear-view mirror when driving away Derek was still standing on the drive, watching him go. Damn.

“Scott,” Stiles got up close to his best friend, clutching his books to his chest,

“What?” Scott mock-whispered back, amused by Stiles' demeanour.

“How much can you tell about someone by smelling them or sensing them or whatever it is you do?”

“Oh man, you don't want to know.” Scott grinned.

“No I do.” Stiles wasn't amused, “That's why I asked.”

“Oh... well... what kinds of stuff do you want to know?”

“Like... can they read... if someone, in a brief moment, tiny, minuscule might have been attracted to them?”

“Oh, Megan likes you dude.”

“Not!--” Stiles lowered his voice, “Not Megan, specifically... anyone.”

“Well. I guess so, maybe. It's complicated. You kinda have to be really paying attention. Mostly I'm just working hard to tune all that stuff out. There's only so much I want to know about some people, y'know?” he frowned, “why'd you ask?”

“No reason.” Stiles slid down into his seat to think.

Chapter Text

The fact that the idea of seeing Derek again didn't seem all that bad to him meant that he needed to stay away from Derek. A lot. He had no idea what the Alpha would do with those feelings but he had a feeling that the kindest response he might get would be laughter. And ok, he wasn't sure he even had those feelings but ever since Derek had started being nice to him he'd found it a little easier to be in his presence and he'd.. let his guard down. The next morning his car hadn't started again but he'd just taken a bus and missed first period. Scott had mentioned going over to Derek's at the weekend again to help move in more furniture but Stiles had very loudly announced that he had plans with Megan. Sure, those plans turned out to be very dull plans with Megan but it still kept him busy enough to endure the weekend. Another week passed and Stiles begged off lacrosse, claiming to have a cold. Only Scott seemed to miss him but he didn't dare ask if Derek came to watch.

Avoiding Derek seemed to just mean he was always thinking about Derek. He wasn't sure if he was scared of him or if he was missing him, or which of those emotions was more worrying. He wasn't so much worried that he was having these feelings for a guy as he was worried he was having them for Derek Hale. Why couldn't his crush be on Danny or someone who'd just let him down gently. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't a crush, just one moment of eye wandering, but then his brain kept throwing up images of Derek. Derek standing there in the darkness looking at Stiles curled up on his couch, Derek bursting into the hospital room looking distressed, Derek lying on top of him in the grave--- ok, that was a little too weird to fantasising about and yet part of him kicked himself for not being able to remember exactly what it felt like.

Four Derek-less weeks were broken one Saturday.

He was in the hardware store picking up new curtain hooks when someone grabbed him and pinned him up against the wall. He could have had his eyes closed and known it was Derek but eyes open he could see that pissed off look had not been exaggerated in his memory. Unfortunately four Derek-less weeks had been filled with lots of Derek-filled thoughts so Stiles found it really hard to not lets his eyes wander to Derek's lips, Derek's chest... he finally fixed on Derek's eyes but that wasn't really very helpful either.

“Hi?” he said finally, unable to say much more.

“Oh, so you are alive then.”

“Yes?” This was going well.

“Then why haven't you been around to the house, Scott keeps making excuses for you. Stupid excuses.”

“Well, look, I'm not really pack so...”

Derek snorted and released Stiles from the wall. “Fine”

Stiles hadn't quite been expecting him to give in that easily so he had no comeback to make as Derek stalked out of the store.

“Scott...”

“Mmm?” Scott tilted his controller as his car took a sharp bend, he was beating Stiles easily at this point.

“I've got something to ask... about Derek.”

Scott paused the game instantly, “Shoot.”

“Oh, ok”, Stiles hadn't been expecting this kind of full attention on him, “Well... you see...” this was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Scott grinned.

“You like him.” Maybe the whole sensing-emotions thing wasn't bad all the time. “And that's why you've been avoiding him.”

“You could tell in like, two seconds, how long is it going to take him?”

“Well...” Scott said with a frown, “I don't think he'd believe it if he did sense it. Not until you actually told him.”

“Why?”

“Oh,” Scott picked up his controller and unpaused the game, “Didn't you know, I thought that was why you were asking, he totally likes you too?”

“WHAT?” Stiles yelped. “When did this happen?!”

“Well, we've kinda all known for ages -- yes victory!!! – I thought you knew too.”

“Well...NO! I did not know. And next time I'd appreciate it if you told me about anyone who likes me as soon as you find out about it.”

“Pansy likes you.” he said, talking about the girl who came into the vets office a little too frequently with her guinea-pig.

“Pansy is thirteen.”

“You said to tell you.”

Stiles shook his head, still processing this information. “But... he does nothing but scowl at me and push me up against things and snap and...”

“Come on, it's Derek. His scowls say he loves you. Or,” Scott quickly adjusted himself, “likes you anyway.”

“Well... what do I do now then?”

“Go for it. Or don't” Scott shrugged.

“Thanks dude.” Stiles said sarcastically.

“No problem. Oh, there's a housewarming tonight. Come to that.”

Stiles buried his face in his hands. Too much information. He'd barely come to terms with the idea that he liked Derek and now Derek liked him too and he was going to his house tonight to declare his... interest?

Stiles arrived late. He had spent a good amount of time debating whether to go or not and another good amount deciding on what to wear. On top of that he remembered at the last minute that he was supposed to be going out with Megan that night. He quickly text her to move it to the following night, making a mental note that he was such a douche but he wasn't going to break up with her via text.

He stepped through the door and saw a surprisingly large amount of people. For some reason he'd expected just the pack but he guessed they'd invited school friends as well. He looks around the room but couldn't see Derek anywhere. His first instinct was to avoid but he knew he wouldn't be able to stay still until he said his piece. So he danced through the crowd and into the kitchen.

Derek was leaning relaxed against a countertop. He was wearing a simple black shirt and jeans that fit him very well. A little too well. As soon as Stiles danced his way into the kitchen Derek turned and looked at him. Something about knowing that Derek felt something for him made Stiles pulse race a little faster when their eyes met. How had he not noticed, with all the glaring, that Derek's eyes were so intense? He stepped closer and through the din of the music said,

“Hi,” like an idiot.

“Hello,” Derek said. Probably the nicest welcome he'd ever given Stiles but still not what he'd been expecting.

“House looks good.”

Derek nodded before taking a swig from of beer.

And that's all he's getting?

“How did you afford all of this?” shut up, “You don't even have a job... oh my god, are you rich?”

Derek just blinked at him.

“Yeah...” Stiles realised he was still dancing. To a much faster song than the one playing at the moment. He put some effort into slowing his body down but it seems to be trying to keep up with his mind which was running a mile a minute.

“Hey Stiles, what are you doing here?” Allison bopped into the room. She picked up a drink from the counter and offered him one. He shook his head and she shrugged, “Haven't you got a date with Megan tonight? She was babbling about it all through drama,”

Ooh, guilt. “Uh, no, we rescheduled it...”

He turned away from Allison to see Derek has gone. He just caught a glimpse of him heading upstairs. Time to be bold. This would be so much easier if Derek wasn't as easy to read as book made of cottage cheese. Considering how long Scott said that he'd liked him it seemed like if he was waiting for Derek to make a move it'd be years before he even got a handshake off of the guy. And yet. This was unknown territory in so many ways. He'd liked Lydia for years and not said anything and she was just about as scary as Derek. Doubt and indecision.

Then he glanced at Allison. Her and Scott's relationship... all those misunderstandings. All that angst. He loved the guy but he wasn't Scott. He was Stiles. Stiles said what was on his mind. Maybe unwanted, unbidden, hidden in a paragraph of babbling, but he got it out.

Time to be bold.

He walked slowly up the stairs, not quite sure what he was going to say but knowing improvisation could be--

“Derek, what the hell have you done to my tiles!?” was not the first thing he expected to be saying in this conversation, but Derek was standing in the bathroom with ceramic dust on his fist and two broken tiles on the floor. His head snapped up at Stiles' words and he scowled.

Remember, it's not terrifying. It means he likes you. Thinking that actually helped and he stepped forward, not back as would have been his usual instinct. He took Derek's hand in his and inspected the already healing cut.

“Not to mention your hand.”

“It's fine.”

“I sure hope you don't come and punch these tiles every time I've annoyed you. It'll cost a fortune.”

“What makes you think you annoyed me?”

“Occam's razor,” he smiled. Derek's hand was still in his and as if every move was casual he started brushing the dust off of it, feeling the heat of his skin, the roughness of his palm and the little hairs rising to his touch. A laughing couple ran past them in the hallway and Stiles lost Derek's hand.

“I'll fix them tomorrow,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the space where the tiles should have been.

“What? No way, I'll fix them. Must have been my shoddy workmanship first time around that made them so... breakable. Besides, you fixed my car, fair is fair.”

“I didn't fix your car, you took the bus again yesterday”

That was interesting. Or...creepy? It was hard to keep up at this point.

“Well... I don't think we have any tiles left in these colours, so I might just stick the pieces back on.” He stooped to pick up the shards on the ground and mimed fitting them into the wall like a jigsaw.

“Stiles,” Derek said his name so quietly, with only a tiny hint of exasperation. Playing with the tiles was fun and all but hearing his name that way reminded him he was there for a reason and any amount of procrastination probably wasn't going to help him get what he wanted. Even if he wasn't really sure what that was right now.

“Derek,” he said, trying to copy Derek's tone but perhaps coming off a little too mocking.

“Just... go and enjoy the party.”

“I'm enjoying the party right here.” he looked up at Derek slyly but the other man was giving nothing away by his expression. Stiles stepped a little closer to Derek and was surprised when he stepped backwards. It was good and bad confirmation all in one. He liked him, he was sure of it, he just maybe didn't want to act on it. “Just answer me one question.” Beneath Derek's weary expression he sensed a little panic. “What do I smell like? Because no-one will give me a straight answer and I'm afraid my poor little human nose isn't up to it... it's pack, but not the same as everyone else..” he stepped closer to Derek, who now had no more room to back into. He tilted his head to the side, “What do you think?”

In the moment of silence that followed Stiles was very aware of the pulse beating fast in his neck. For what felt like minutes he stood there, waiting, holding his breath.

Then Derek dipped his head.

His nose grazed the side of Stiles' neck, hot breath tickled at his throat. He wanted to reach out and touch, feel the muscles pressing against Derek's t-shirt, run his hands through his hair, taste the skin of his shoulder that was now so tantalisingly in front of him. But he held back, waited. He could only push so far. He needed to know.

When Derek's lips touched his neck he let out a little whimper. Soft kisses accompanied by rough stubble made their way down his throat. His resolve broke and his hands reached out and slid themselves over Derek's chest, his shoulders. Then he found himself being the one backed up as Derek pushed him backwards until his back hit the opposite wall. Their bodies pressed together, Derek's mouth still fixated on his neck, Stiles traced his hands down Derek's back and started sliding them under his shirt. When his hand touched the skin of Derek's hip the Alpha pulled back.

“No,”

“No?” Stiles kept leaning up against the wall, feeling like it was the only thing holding him up right now. His breath was ragged, face flushed, and he was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot. Now he knew.

The scowl was back on Derek's face, “This can't happen,”

“Uh, I think it just did.” Stiles reached out a hand and hooked two fingers under Derek's belt. He tried to pull him closer but the Alpha wasn't budging. “Look Derek, no-one was as surprised as me but...you like me, ” he was definitely grinning now.

“You have a girlfriend, you're seventeen, you're human...”

“We're breaking up, so what and I always knew you were into a secretly kinky cross-species relationship... I mean I helped clear out that box in the basement after all--”

“That was Peter's--”

“--What else you got?” He stood up, legs finally able to support him again. Derek sighed.

“You're annoying.”

“I prefer to think of it as charming. Irresistible.” he quirked what was hopefully a flirtatious eyebrow.

“I don't think you've thought this through,”

Stiles rolled his eyes. This whole 'I know better than you, I'm so much wiser, you're just a kid' routine was such a mood killer, “After all the shit we've been through, give me some credit please,”

“Your dad is the Sheriff”

“And if you were looking to kill me that'd be a problem.” Derek opened his mouth to come up with some other excuse but Stiles stopped him, “Look, Derek, I guess you are right, this is all new to me. And there are plenty of reasons why it could be problematic. But I know that I like you. That I think about you...” ok, dial it down a little there Stilinski, “Look, just answer me one question, and I'll leave.”

Derek looked at him cautiously before nodding, suspecting a trap.

“I smell like you don't I? Because, somehow, we're connected, more than just pack. Am I right?”

Stiles didn't even see Derek cover the space between them. One moment he was leaning up against the opposite wall, the next his face was inches away. He pinned Stiles arms down by his side and silenced his protesting mouth with a kiss. His mouth was hot, demanding, totally intoxicating, and when they broke apart Stiles couldn't help the little groan of loss that escaped him. Slowly Derek released his arms. “I guess that answered my question,”

“Just give me a minute.” Derek said and it took Stiles a moment to realise this was a dismissal. Probably best not to push his luck tonight. Though he could do with a couple of minutes cool down as well. He slipped out of the bathroom and leant on the outside wall, still catching his breath. After a moment an exasperated Derek called through the door, “You're not far enough away Stiles,”. Stiles made his way back down the stairs with a grin on his face that wouldn't leave him for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

He did break up with Megan the next day. And it was just as awful as he had imaged it would be. He actually felt worse because there was a big part of him that wanted to walk around all day with a huge grin on his face, but that might have been inappropriate.

Occasionally throughout the day he'd touch a spot on his neck where he could feel the ghost of the kisses from last night. Scott told him he was acting weird but it was only half-way through the day that his mind was sufficiently off Allison enough that he remembered their talk the other night.

“Hey, what happened yesterday with Derek, did you guys...?” he tilted his head suggestively. The grin returned to Stiles face.

“You could say he found me persuasive.”

Scott's jaw dropped.

“Hey, you were the one who told me he liked me.”

“Yeah... but he's Derek. If he's not brooding in his cave or out making really rash decisions, I just can't picture it.”

“Well,” Stiles said with a happy sigh, “I can. And let me tell you, that guy--”

Scott shook his head, “--No details please. He's still Derek.”

“Stilinski, stop sitting with that moronic look on your face and come and finish this formula,” Mr Harris said, holding out the chalk.

Derek picked the pack up after school. Stiles skipped down the steps to say hello but he'd driven off before he reached him, only Erica giving him a little wave showed that he'd been spotted at all.

Things had gone a little too far, he could acknowledge that. What had he wanted, to jump straight from flirtation to sex when two days before he hadn't even known that the guy liked him? But it was different when he had those eyes looking at him. The first touch from his mouth had caused hope to bubble up his chest and he'd gotten a little carried away. So some of Derek's concerns from the night before seemed a lot more reasonable in the harsh light of day. And yet he wanted that door left open. Not wedged shut, which seemed to be Derek's preference from the way he was acting.

Stupid moody werewolves. It was only Scott reminding him that it was a full moon tonight that lightened his mood.

He didn't see Derek again until the following weekend. Scott called to ask for a lift to the Hale house. He suspected that Derek might have been behind the request as Scott was perfectly capable of getting there easily in half the time but Stiles played along.

By the time he'd driven up to the property he was bopping along excitedly to a tune on the radio. Scott gave him a knowing side-eye. “What?” he asked, turning the engine off. Scott shook his head, grinning. Great, now he was a figure off fun. But he didn't really care.

Inside the house Derek was slumped on the sofa, feet up, watching football. Stiles didn't know why he found this adorable but he did. Scott quickly made himself scarce and Stiles flopped down on the sofa next to Derek. He felt the other man tense quickly beside him but his eyes never left the screen. Suddenly Stiles felt incredibly dorky. He'd been walking around all week at school thinking about his new boyfriend, but now it struck him that maybe a quick kiss in a bathroom wasn't the beginning of a relationship. It wasn't like he'd heard from Derek afterwards or anything. He straightened a little in his seat so that he wasn't touching Derek's side quite so much and said a tentative, “Hi,”

“Shh,” Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles shoulders and pulled him in close until his head was resting on Derek's chest – and oh good God what a chest. Stiles kicked off his shoes (one landed on the coffee table but Derek's eyebrow only twitched so it was all good) and decided to go with it, not particularly interested in football but definitely interested in staying in this position. After a few minutes he started to fidget, he started tracing Derek's muscles through his shirt with his fingers. From his collar bone down to his abs where Derek then grabbed his hand and to keep it still held it in his. Stiles smiled against his t-shirt.

When he woke up it was almost dark outside. They were both sprawled out over the sofa but Stiles' head had migrated to Derek's thigh. He stretched out and whether this movement woke Derek or he was already awake, he started moving as well. Stiles was saved from saying something awkward by his stomach growling.

“Time for food,” he said, sitting up and letting the room swim the right way around.

“Nothing in the kitchen,”

“Of course not,” Stiles rolled his eyes and stood up, “Only you would build a beautiful, spacious kitchen and not buy any food, there's a metaphor in there somewhere I can feel it,”. He stretched up to the ceiling and looked down at Derek still on the sofa. His hair was tousled, his stubble a little longer, his eyes drowsy. He looked delectable.

“What?” Derek asked irritably. So charming. No, seriously, Stiles grinned.

“Take out?”

Derek shrugged.

“You really know how to show a guy a good time,” he said, feeling bad as soon as the words left his mouth because Derek got this panicked look on his face. Stiles distracted him by jumping straight in, straddling Derek's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. With a growl Derek lifted him, for a moment he thought he was going to get thrown on the floor, but he just found himself flipped and pinned down on the couch. Derek shifted on top of him, settling his body down between his legs. Stiles felt his heart rise in his chest and his pulse squeezing at his throat. Derek buried his face in Stiles' neck, nipping and nuzzling at his skin and in an instant Stiles felt himself go limp. He lost all capacity for rational thought after that (and hunger pangs).

When the rest of the group were around Stiles didn't really know how to act, he ended up extra fidgety and babbling just so that he didn't spend the whole time staring at Derek. The Alpha acted no different than usual, in fact a lot of the time he seemed to act like Stiles wasn't there at all.

In a brief interlude from a meeting Stiles cornered Derek in the kitchen and asked him outright, “Are we a secret?”

Derek gave him that usual impenetrable stare, popped a piece of orange into his mouth and after feeling like Stiles had squirmed enough said, “No,”

“I mean, I get it, it's new... it's, well I don't really know what it is, I don't expect you to be declaring your love – forget I said that – in front of the whole pack or anything or--”

Derek backed him into a corner and put an arm on each counter so that there was no escape. He stepped in close until Stiles could feel hot breath on his face. It was both thrilling and frightening. Mostly the first thing. After a considered moment he said, “You're annoying. And irritating. And distracting.” He said each of these things, especially the last, with a degree of fondness that stopped Stiles from taking them completely as insults, “In there, I need to concentrate. Hello Erica,” Stiles had been completely transfixed by Derek's face, not a couple of inches from his own, that he hadn't noticed Erica standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Now that he did he took in her big shit-eating grin.

“Hi boys,”

Derek growled and Stiles swore he could feel his chest vibrating without even touching him. Erica just laughed and skipped out of the kitchen. “See?” Derek said.

“You're being kinda distracting yourself right now.” Stiles choked out, hands itching to touch but not wanting to start something they couldn't finish. Derek smirked and stepped backwards. He reached out and cupped Stiles' cheek for a second before saying,

“Back to the meeting then,” and leaving the kitchen. He was such an asshole.

For the rest of the night the meeting carried on like before. Except Erica kept shooting Stiles looks that he tried to ignore.

Derek smashed him up against the lockers. It lacked the fury of previous similar situations but then again those times they hadn't been mid-kiss. Maybe they'd just wanted to be. It was post-practice and Stiles had held back in the locker room to pack away the equipment... a job for those permanently-benched. The sticks had gone flying when Derek had tackled him and after his initial moment of shock – he'd seen too many things jump out at him in recent years – it had all been hands and tongues and heavy breathing.

Sandwiched between Derek and the lockers Stiles' hands roamed down Derek's back and over his ass. Derek ground his hips into Stiles' and the younger man felt his heart give a nervous flutter at the obvious feel of Derek's arousal. They finished off their kiss, slow and sensual, and then Derek stepped back.

“No,” Stiles protested, fisting a hand in Derek's shirt and trying to pull him closer again. The corners of Derek's mouth twitched, almost like he was going to smile, but he shook his head.

“Later,” was all he offered, before leaving.

“Damn it,” Stiles muttered. He was starting to feel like he was at a distinct disadvantage. Derek could tell every thing he felt at every moment. But that didn't mean he interpreted the feelings correctly. But trying to tell Derek he was wrong was like convincing a brick wall it was made of jello. Of course he got a little apprehensive sometimes, he was still a virgin after all, but that didn't mean that he didn't want to go further, to do more, that the moments of fear weren't swamped by stronger emotions of curiosity and desire. But Derek didn't see that, he just left, leaving Stiles alone to deal with his own problem time and time again. And that was how you went blind.

Chapter Text

“Is sex different for you guys?” Stiles asked out of the blue. Well, not really out of the blue because he'd been leading up to the question for a few days in his head, but out of the blue in a conversation that thus-far had been about why Derek needed to learn how to play xbox, “Werewolves I mean,” he clarified. Derek sat up from his position on the floor where Stiles had been showing him the various buttons on the controller and trying to get him to play a little Halo.

“I'm not going to rush you,” Derek said, cutting straight to he heart of the problem. Sometimes he was a lot more intuitive than he let on. Well, it would be hard not to be.

“Oh, I'm aware of that,” Stiles said, straightening up also and rolling his eyes at the same time, “I'm not saying we should jump straight in but we live very dangerous lives and think of how much I'll regret it if I don't get to see you naked before I die,” It was meant as a joke but it brought out a massive scowl on Derek's face. “Well, that was my attempt at seduction, what've you got?”\

“Werewolves.. we like to mark our mates. Scent, bite marks... that's about all that's different. For Werewolves generally anyway... different marks can mean different things. Dominance, submission, a lifetime bond..” He explained all this stiltedly, like he really didn't want to, but Stiles gave him props for trying, even if it sounded more Discovery Channel than his actual life.

“Ok then,” Stiles swallowed, “Lets do it,”

Derek picked up the controller and started killing bad guys like a pro. A bunch of insecure thoughts started bursting their way into Stiles' head and he pushed them away. He slid back down onto the floor next to Derek and took up his controller. He might have accidentally shot Derek a few times in the back that night.

He kinda wanted to ask Scott about it but couldn't really think of a way of doing so without it being completely awkward. Hey Scott, are you so aggressive sexually that you're frightened of hurting Allison? Hey Scott, do you start howling really embarrassingly in the sack? He had to focus on the possibility of it being a werewolf thing 'cause he didn't want to think it was anything else. Like Derek not liking him that much or thinking he was too young or too inexperienced.

Then they got the idea of putting in a garden. It was that stupid apple tree that started it. Isaac had started puzzling out a little vegetable patch in his head and once he'd revealed his plans to the others they'd all offered opinions and preferences until the patch had spread out. Derek hadn't been too thrilled, preferring his nature a little more wild and random and not being a huge fan of vegetables anyway (more of a beating bloody heart kinda guy) but he had no real protest and when the rest of them started digging up the earth to loosen it he joined in to do his fair share.

As the day wore on predictably Erica got bored and started throwing more earth than she was digging, Boyd dug his own patch and started getting pissed off if anyone else came near it and Isaac finished early and took to lounging on the porch reading a book while keeping an eye on the other two with the occasional mini-Derek scowl. Stiles finished the part that he'd been assigned to dig (nearest to the tree just in case any wolfsbane was still lingering) and wandered over to where Derek was leaning on his shovel.

“Hey Farmer Hale,” he said, his eyes raking over Derek's bare muscular shoulders and arms that were glistening rather temptingly with sweat. Derek was silent, staring down at the earth. Stiles peered curiously over his shoulder and recoiled almost instantly, falling backwards over his feet with a yell. He felt the attention of the other wolves on them instantly. Slowly he got up and asked, “uh, what's that?”

Because they were both looking down at what suspiciously looked like an arm, skeletal, the flesh decomposed. “Some of my family,” Derek said, his voice deadly, unreally calm. It took Stiles a moment to realise it wasn't attached to anything and when he did he gagged and had to turn away. The Betas had approached now and were all looking curiously into the hole. Without turning around Stiles reached back and grabbed Derek's arm.

“Fill it in,” he instructed the Betas, dragging a slow-walking Derek back into the house.

For the next half an hour all he could get from Derek were the words, “I thought I got all of them,” before he descended into dead-eyed silence. It didn't make any sense. Derek's family must have been buried or cremated years ago. The only one who had been buried out there was Laura and he and Scott had seen to that not being the case anymore. He watched Derek and his heart ached. His life was like eternal sadness forever. He couldn't think of anything to do other than to curl up next to him on the sofa, an arm around his shoulders, and sit listening to their breathing synchronise. But Derek didn't relax, if anything he seemed to get tenser under Stiles' touch. Finally he broke free and started pacing the room.

As Stiles watched him he thought about his mom. He'd lost her. He couldn't imagine how Derek felt having lost everyone (well, except for creepy uncle Peter but they didn't talk about him).

He watched Derek pace, distress elevating his heartbeat, and thought about what he'd wanted back then. Most of his memories were a blur from that time. He tried to think back on some words of advice he'd been given or condolence, something he could pass on, but all he remembered was that he had hated when people had come up to talk to him afterwards. Their words had been hollow and it always felt like they wanted something from him. A share of his grief or a chance show they were a good person. He wasn't able to give them anything, he had nothing.

Stiles lowered his head and rested his chin on the arm of the couch. He couldn't think of anything to say to Derek but he wouldn't leave him either.

When the pack walked back into the house, casting cautious glances their way, and Stiles ushered them off with a wave of his free hand. Boyd stepped forward while the others walked quietly up the stairs with dirty hand and feet, “It was just a coyote,” he offered, before following the rest of his packmates.

Derek curled up by Stiles' side on the couch and gave no indication that he'd heard. He rested his head in Stiles' lap, breathing easy but eyes open and unseeing on the wall in front of him. For the first time since they'd started rebuilding the house Stiles wondered if it was ever healthy to try and build something here.

It was actually the return of creeper Peter that brought some things to a head.

As soon as he walked through the door he took one look at Stiles and let out a bark of laughter. “I knew it,”

Stiles backed away, feeling the adrenalin pound through his body. He knew Peter was back. Knew he was around somewhere. But this was a little too close and personal. He'd grown used to Werewolves and people who tried to kill him over the last few months but not this one. He didn't even notice that Derek was at his side until the Alpha had moved between the two of them, body tense.

“Peter,”

At the sight of Derek Peter calmed down and looked around the hallway like he was a nice normal person not a psychopath hiding his crazy, “I like it,” he offered finally, striding a couple more steps into the house. Even though he didn't want to, Stiles retreated back further. The memory of Peter threatening to turn him was crisp in his mind. A low growl echoed through the room. Peter looked at Derek with surprise, “I'm not here to hurt anyone. I thought we agreed you needed my help,” his eyes flicked to Stiles, “You don't mind me being here do you?”

Stiles fought down every part of him that wanted to scream that yes he did mind and gritted out through his teeth, “If Derek wants you here,”

Clearly Derek did as he stepped aside and let Peter walk into the living room. Stiles could swear he winked at him as he went past. Even though Peter was out of the room Stiles knew he'd never be out of earshot so he just said, “Be careful,” to Derek before walking out the door.

Derek caught up to him at the tree line, “Don't go,”

“I'm not storming off or whatever, I just really don't want to spend any more time with that man that I have to. I know he's your uncle but he's batshit fucking crazy and I don't have a very good record around crazy Werewolves,”

Derek looked uncomfortable for a moment, his usual face before he was going to have to admit something he'd rather not, “I need him, to ask some questions. But you have to stay, it'll be too distracting if you're not there.”

Stiles scratched at the back of his neck, “I thought it was too distracting when I am there?”

“When you're...” he tried to pick his words carefully but Stiles just butted in,

“Freaked out? Terrified? Feeling my skin crawl under his creepy stare?”

“...I can't concentrate if I can feel that but I can't see you.”

Stiles didn't know whether to be touched, creeped out some more because Derek could sense his emotions right across town or offended that Derek didn't trust him to care of himself. It was certainly one of the longest conversations they'd ever had about feelings. He took in how miserable Derek looked and decided to feel touched.

“Ok, I'll come back. I wouldn't want you distracted when he goes for the jugular. Metaphorically. We hope. But you better be cooking something stellar for dinner.”

They sat at the dinner table in silence. Derek at the head, Peter at the foot, Stiles to Derek's left, Boyd next to him and the other two live-in Betas on the opposite side. The tension in the room was so high that Stiles could barely stand it so he didn't know how the Werewolves were managing to still push their food around their plates. He couldn't stop his eyes flicking between Derek and Peter and he soon noticed that the Betas were having the same problem. No-one was eating in case a giant fight suddenly broke out.

“Shall we join hands and say grace,” Peter finally broke the silence with, a smirk on his lips. Never had an offer of prayer been met with such widespread revulsion.

“So, where did you go Peter?” Stiles couldn't quite believe the question came from his mouth but when there was an awkward silence to fill you could pretty much guarantee he'd be the one filling it. He felt his insides shrivel up when Peter fixed him with his full attention.

“I decided to see a bit of the world Stiles,” he said his name like he was savouring it in his mouth, creepy, “Nothing like being in a coma then being cooped up underground to give you itchy feet.”

Stiles blinked at this bullshit answer, “So, you just didn't want to help with the house then?” he said finally.

Erica choked back a laugh, causing a growl to grow in Peter's throat, raising the hairs on Stiles neck. Derek rose a little in his seat, eyes flashing red. Everyone went silent, even Peter. Under the table Stiles stretched out his leg until it was touching Derek's. The Alpha gave no acknowledgement but his eyes returned to normal.

Despite the continued tension in the room they all then settled down to eat, even if Stiles noticed the decided trend of Werewolf-manners causing them to guard their plates rather zealously as they did so. Stiles' stomach felt like a rock but he tried to get something down so that he could at least pretend like he wasn't ready to rabbit for the exit. A mental image of which he's suddenly really glad the wolves can't see. But of course this meant that the wolves had all finished way before he had and were now all sitting around in tense silence again.

“So, Stiles, why hasn't Derek turned you yet?” Yep, that was the kind of bullshit that Peter came out with around the dinner table. “He's turned all these other little puppies,” he indicated the Betas who didn't much like being called puppies, “why not you?” Peter took a long sip from a glass of water before adding, “I offered once, you remember?”

Stiles did remember, all too well. He'd not mentioned it to anyone, least of all Derek, because he'd kinda hoped it would never come up again, what with Peter being dead and all. He felt the table's eyes on him. He glanced quickly at Derek, whose expression was a kind of confused angry, before trying to say in his most nonchalant way, “I remember,”

A slow smile spread across Peter's face, “I take it you were just waiting for my return then. My offer still stands, if Derek is holding out on you,”

And just like that the table – yes the whole fucking table – was flipped over, sending cutlery, food and Betas everywhere. But that wasn't the most immediate problem as Derek and Peter were now at each other's throats, completely wolfed out. Stiles vaguely remembered hearing that Peter was weaker now that he was back from the dead but for a few minutes he put up a good fight. The creepiest thing was that he seemed to be able to keep that grin on his face the whole time. Eventually Derek smacked him down into the floor and Peter submitted.

“Geez, what a dick,” Erica commented and Stiles found himself warming to her. He wanted to go over and calm Derek down, lay a hand on his tense back and take the anger away but he had a feeling that might undermine pack dynamics or something so he just stood and waited. With arms still pinning Peter down Derek turned and looked at the Betas,

“Stiles is human. But he is pack. And he's mine. Anyone have a problem with that?”

At the word 'mine' Stiles felt his heart grow three sizes and try to work it's way out his chest. But that was all instinct. When his brain engaged he actually found it a little annoying that he hadn't been included in this decision and that he was now apparently Derek's property. Not that he wasn't open to persuasion but it would have been nice to have been asked. The Betas crowded around Derek submissively and then moved on to Stiles. He found himself sniffed and tugged about playfully and guessed that was his initiation into the pack. He caught Peter's eye from where he sat on the floor and could swear that the other man was smirking again.