Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s been on the road long enough that for a moment Derek forgets which town this is as he approaches the only building that still has lights pouring out into the dirt street. The inn sits at the head of the town square, the only three story building in the town. The sign that swings in the evening breeze has a dragon sitting before a pile of gold.

The Dragon’s Hoard. Derek smiles. He’s in Chester’s Falls, an oddly named town because there are no nearby falls nor a resident named Chester in the history of the village. He knows the innkeepers here, a were coyote and her partner, a kitsune, that he helped three years ago with a gnome problem. Gnomes look cute from the outside, but their mouths hold rows and rows of spiked poisonous fangs that they tend to use with little provocation and great abandon. 

Derek is a shikari, a long line of werewolf hunters who specialize in hunting supernatural creatures that attack others or turn vicious. He’s good at what he does - he loves what he does - and there are many people who owe him because of it. Anticipation of a warm meal and an actual bed fill him as he pushes open the door.

The room is filled with people and Derek’s smile fades. It’s not that he minds people, much, but this many together make his wolf restless and he’s much too tired to be bothered with humans today. Derek keeps his head down and walks quickly for the only open table he sees. Luckily, it’s tucked into the far corner, and he sits down with his back to the wall. From this table he can see the entire room and he relaxes.

There are a few people giving him assessing looks, other weres recognizing him for what he is, an Alpha wolf and an apex predator. He nods at them and they all go back to their drinks. In the corner nearest to him, a man is sitting on a stool playing a cittern, a ten stringed instrument. The man’s voice is what snags Derek’s attention first, it’s a rich tenor wielded with confidence. The song he’s playing is something whimsical and he’s smiling at the rowdy room. His long fingers pluck the strings like they’re dancing. He catches Derek looking and winks, never missing a beat.

Derek is so entranced he doesn’t notice when Malia steps up to the table. “Nice to see you again, Derek.”

Derek tears his gaze away from the distraction in the corner. “Malia, I’m glad to be here. Please tell me you have a spare bed and some warm food for me.”

The woman’s brown eyes flick over the room. “It was market day today. I’m sorry, but all I have to offer you is the group bunk room, but the only person staying there right now is Stiles, the man singing.”  

Derek frowns and steels his disappointment at not having a quiet night alone. “I’m very tired of sleeping on the ground, so I’ll take the shared room and some dinner. Please.”

Malia lays a hand on his arm. “I know you’d rather be alone, but it’s all I have.”

Derek nods. “It’s fine.” There are few people Derek trusts, but Malia is one of them. He’s known her for a long time and he can always count on her to be straightforward.

“I’ll send Kira out with your supper.” Malia checks on other tables as she makes her way to the kitchen.

The jaunty song Stiles is singing ends and there is a smattering of applause. He plucks the strings of the instrument and starts a slower song. The melody is lyrical and haunting and Derek can feel the words as they weave around the room, around him. Derek narrows his eyes. There is something about the singer.

A black haired woman with her hair pulled back in a messy bun and a shy smile on her face puts down a bowl of stew, a hunk of rye bread, and a pint of dark brown ale in front of Derek. “Nice to see you again.”

Derek bestows a genuine smile on the woman. “Good evening, Kira. How are you doing?”

Kira sits in the chair opposite Derek. He mentally sighs, knowing that, while Malia could tell he wanted alone time, Kira loves to talk. “Great. It’s market day so business has been wonderful today. Malia and I have decided to adopt a set of twins from Elmgrove. Their parents were killed in an attack from a pack of bunyips.”

Derek straightens up. Bunyips are nasty tempered, aquatic animals that resemble something between an alligator and a bulldog. “It’s been a long time since bunyips were reported in the area. Do you know if there’s already a shikari hired to find them?”

Kira shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Some other hunters went after the pack, but were unable to track them.”

Derek takes a bite of the stew. It’s rich, filled with beef, carrots, and onions. “This is delicious.” Kira’s smile widens. “Thank you for the information. Looks like I’ll be heading to Elmgrove in the morning.”

Kira leaves him, and Derek applies himself to his meal, stealing glances at the man singing. Derek finishes eating about the same time Stiles finishes a set. There is more applause this time and he stands up and bows to the audience. He’s tall, as tall as Derek is, but where Derek’s shoulders are wide, this man is lean strength. Stiles rests his cittern against the corner, gives a jaunty wave to the room, and begins walking in Derek’s direction.

Derek stops looking and buries his face in his pint glass, willing the other man to go away.

Stiles hesitates near the empty chair. “Mind if I join you?”

“Yes,” Derek growls and wishes he could flash his red alpha eyes at this stranger to make him leave. 

Looking from afar was one thing. Up close, Stiles’s eyes look like whiskey in firelight and he smells like citrus and woodsmoke. Derek’s wolf is going crazy inside him and he pushes down his reaction to this man. There’s something else, something other, but there are plenty of people who have residual magic of shifters in their family. It leaves a trace, but is often indistinct.

Stiles grins, pulls out the chair, and sits down. “Great.” He waves at Malia who is a few tables over.

“I don’t want company.” Derek tries again.

“Unfortunately for you, this is literally the only chair available in the house besides the one I was just sitting in and I need a break from everyone staring at me. Contrary to popular belief, not every performer likes to be the center of attention all the time.” Stiles stops talking and looks up at Malia. 

“I see you’ve met Derek.” Malia’s eyes go back and forth between the two of them and he knows she can smell how annoyed he is, even in this crowded room, because her grin turns up a notch. “What can I get you, Stiles?”

“A pint of ale for me and another for my new friend. Thank you, Malia.”

Malia leaves them to go to other tables and Derek is left looking at whiskey eyes that feel like they can see through him.

“So Derek, what brings you to The Dragon’s Hoard?”

“It’s the only tavern in town and I was tired of sleeping on the ground.” Derek tries to frown at the man, a look that works well on Isaac and Boyd to shut them up. Erica is impervious to the impending violence of the look and so, apparently, is Stiles.

Stiles laughs, the sound warm in the filled room and Derek swears he can feel it bounce over his skin. “Very broody and with a sense of humor. This is going to be fun.” Stiles holds out his hand. “I’m Stiles Stilinksi, musician and occasional sword for hire. Actually, I’m more of a bo for hire. I tried swords once but almost chopped off my own hand so I decided those weren’t for me. A staff works better for me.”

Derek lets Stiles’s hand stay there between them for longer than is considered polite. Stiles’s easy smile starts to slip and Derek gives in the urge to touch the other man. He slides his palm against Stiles’s and shakes his hand. The contact licks up Derek’s arm and his hand tingles when he releases the handshake a bit faster than he should. If Stiles notices, he doesn’t give any indication.

Malia returns and gives them their drinks with barely a glance, her tray laden with drinks and food for other tables.

“So Derek Last Name Unknown, I’m going to take a guess that you also dabble in being a sword for hire.” Stiles points to the longsword strapped between Derek’s shoulder blades. “That sword looks like it means business and if your eyebrows are any indication, you’d like to use it on my throat about now.”

Derek has to stop the chuckle that starts coming out of his own mouth. Stiles catches the aborted sound and his smile kicks up. Derek groans internally.

“Derek Hale.”

An expression runs across Stile’s face but Derek can’t categorize it before the smile is back in place, a little more firmly than before. Stiles sips his ale then says, “So Derek Hale, Sword for Hire, just passing through or headed somewhere?”

“I’m headed to Elmgrove.” Those bunyips will continue to be a problem until they are dealt with and his purse is getting low.

“Nice town. Their tavern is a bit smaller than this so I usually play out in the square when I pass through there. I heard they have a problem at the moment. Is that why you’re going there next?”

Derek straightens up in his seat. “Why? Are you going to compete with me for the bounty?” Derek takes a breath and prepares himself for a fight. 

Stiles laughs and all the air goes out of Derek’s lungs. Stiles is still grinning that annoyingly attractive smile when he says, “I’m a pacifist. I don’t like fighting.”

Derek’s shoulders relax. “I thought you said you were a sword for hire.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m more like a musician who is good with a long stick in a pinch but I’d rather talk or sing myself out of problems for hire.”

“You definitely have the talking thing down,” Derek mutters and rolls his eyes.

Stiles leans across the table and Derek gets a nose full of Stiles’s scent. “I see my charm is already working on you.”

Derek sputters. “You’re the least charming person I’ve ever met.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.” Stilse winks at Derek and drains the rest of his pint. “I have to play a few more songs or Malia will make me pay for the meal I ate earlier. Any requests?”

“Dat du min Leevsten büst.” Derek wants to take the request back. It’s been years since he’s heard that song and his heart is already bursting under the memory of it.

Stiles’s eyes open. “That’s not a normal request, but it’s one of my favorites. Why that one?”

Derek tells the truth and he doesn’t know why. “My mother used to sing it to my father after all of us children were in bed.”

“Used to?” Stiles prods, and Derek wishes he wouldn't because the other man pulls truth out of him like blood.

“My family is dead.” Derek’s voice is hard.

Everything in Stiles softens and he wraps his long fingers around Derek’s forearm. “Mine too. I’ll try to do it justice.”

Derek’s arm feels cold when Stiles pulls his hand back and walks back toward the corner where his instrument is waiting. Stiles plucks at the strings, tuning them, and looks up to give Derek a small smile before he starts singing.

Derek’s entire focus becomes the man singing a song he hasn’t heard since before the fire that killed his family, before his mistake cost his family their lives. His heart hurts so much as Stiles sings the words that Derek lays a hand over his chest to make sure there’s no blood seeping between his fingers. All his blood stays in his body but his emotions are everywhere. Derek doesn’t know if anyone else in the room is listening to Stiles sing. Stiles is looking at Derek as the words flow from his lips and his nimble fingers move over the strings. 

When the song is over, Stiles says something to the room and starts a song with a faster tune. Derek gulps the rest of his ale, drops coins on the table and stands up to leave. Stiles’s voice is at his back when he walks up the stairs to the top floor of the tavern where the group room is housed in the rafters.

He throws his saddle bag on the bed farthest from the door and sinks onto the thin mattress. It had been folly to ask Stiles for that song and even more foolish to allow it to wrench open the carefully constructed wall Derek has placed around his emotions. It takes him about five minutes before he puts the memories of his family away, before he can open his eyes and see the room in front of him and not the burned shell of his childhood home and the smell of burning flesh fades from his nose.

Derek is still sitting there, clothed and scrabbling to find his peace, when Stiles opens the door an hour later.

The other man meets his gaze. When Stiles speaks, his voice is edged with fatigue from singing. “Guess it was pretty bad, huh?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, it was beautiful. A gift. It brought up a lot of memories.”

Stiles slides his cittern under a bed against the wall by the door, farthest away from Derek. Derek doesn’t know if he should be thankful for the space or irritated Stiles gives it to him. “You said earlier you were headed to Elmgrove. Bunyips hunt in packs. You could use someone to watch your back.” Stiles spreads his arms wide. “I know a guy, not too bad with a bo and good company on the road.”

“I don’t need company,” Derek says. Stiles’s face falls and Derek can smell the rejection Stiles is broadcasting. “I wouldn’t mind the backup though.” Derek can handle the bunyips on his own, but it would cost him and he isn’t ready to let this intriguing man go. 

Stiles’s smile blooms and the room feels lighter than it did before. “Great. Great. Thanks. I’m not a fan of traveling alone and I do like having company. You seem like a man of few words but I can more than make up for your lack of verbosity if you want.” Stiles looks at Derek’s face. “Or not. I can try to be quiet too.”

Derek snorts. “Don’t strain yourself.”

---

Two hours into the journey and Stiles can tell his chatter is annoying Derek, but he can’t halt his mouth. It’s so fun to see the expressions the man makes with his eyebrows. Stiles can’t stop looking at the rest of him either. Derek’s eyes, even when they flick to him in annoyance or roll to the sky, are a shade of green and blue that Stiles has trouble describing. He has defined cheeks and jaw, even though the latter is covered by a closely cropped beard. Everything about him exudes power and strength.

Which is the crux of the problem. 

Derek is a werewolf. Stiles could smell it on him the moment he came in the room last night. Stiles’s senses are even more sensitive than a shifter’s because not only does he have their heightened sense of smell, he can sense the magic in others. It’s his own magic looking for others like him. Unfortunately, there are so few of his kind left that he’s never once met another dragon. 

Which brings up the second looming issue. Stiles had known what Derek was but until he said his name, he hadn’t know who he was. It was a testament to how idiotic Stiles is that he didn’t make an excuse and leave the moment he heard Derek Hale because the Hales are infamous shikari who are infamous for one thing. Killing dragons. 

Derek has made a name for himself hunting down all kinds of supernatural problems, but Stiles knows what he is and knows Derek can never, ever find out what Stiles keeps hidden very, very deep inside him. His own magic allows him to cloak his scent, manipulate it so that the dragon part is not detectable. Generations of being hunted to near extinction have taught them many ways to hide.

Stiles realizes he’s been quiet, thinking, when Derek’s eyes move from the road to him, a question there.

“You look concerned,” Stiles says.

Derek’s mouth is flat but Stiles swears he sees the end tip up. “You were quiet for more than two minutes. I was making sure you were still breathing.”

Stiles laughs. “You’re funny when you’re not trying to murder me with your eyebrows.”

Derek turns in the saddle more to look at him and Stiles enjoys having Derek’s full attention much, much more than he should. “Murder eyebrows?”

Stiles points his fingers at the offending dark things on Derek’s brow. “Your eyebrows have their own language. I’ve known you less than a day, but I’m already becoming quite fluent. However, I’m becoming concerned because I think what they mostly convey is how much you’d like to get your hands around my neck to strangle me.”

“I would, except I think even in death, you’d continue to talk.” Derek directs his attention back to the road and Stiles can see the corner of his mouth tilt up, just the slightest bit again.

“I might cheat death simply for the pleasure of irritating you.” Stiles smiles and concentrates on where they're going. “Melissa, the woman who raised me, used to tell me that my voice was a gift, but she said I needed to learn when to keep my gifts silent.”

“I guess that wasn’t a lesson you learned?”

“You may be surprised to know, I do talk less than I used to.”

Derek snorts. “She must be the most patient woman in the world.”

Stiles sighs and breathes through the feeling of homesickness. “She is. She lives not too far from here on the edge of Beacon Township on a farm. She’s a healer and makes the best sweet rolls I’ve ever had. She took me in after my parents died. I was young, old enough to have some memories of them, but not many. She has a son my age and she and her husband raised us together.”

“You’re lucky that you had someone to take care of you. I just had my sister left but she died a few years back and I had an uncle but he went crazy. He murdered some people and was killed.”

Sorrow for this many losses washes over Stiles. He can smell the resigned grief, the old kind you carry for years, coming off the other man. “Oh my gods, Derek, that is awful. I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t do any of those things.” Derek’s voice is hard.

Stiles very much wishes they were not on horseback because he has the overwhelming need to wrap Derek in a hug. “No, but that is a lot of grief to carry.”

“We all carry something.”

Stiles looks at Derek and allows silence to lay between them on the road. He joked about not knowing when to be silent, but he knows now is a time for it. 

They reach Elmgrove by nightfall and find a room available in the inn there. It’s smaller than Malia and Kira’s place, but the rooms are tidy and the beds are clean. They eat a warm meal and fall into their respective beds. Stiles knows Derek takes a long time to fall asleep, follows his heartbeat and his breaths as long as he can, before he gives in first and goes to sleep.

When Stiles wakes, the narrow bed next to his is empty and neatly made. His chest tightens and he can hear his own heartbeat roaring in his ears before he sees Derek’s saddlebags still in the corner of the room. Stiles relaxes by degrees, sucking in air as evenly as he can until the feeling dissipates. The door slams open, cracking against the wall. Stiles’s heart is in his throat again and he scrambles in his bed, putting the wall at his back and coiling his strength for a fight. 

Derek is standing there, wide eyes and growling. “What’s wrong? You were panicking.”

Stiles catches his breath and has to push down the rush of something that’s more than just embarrassment. Derek protective and attuned to him is a turn on Stiles didn’t know he had.

Stiles takes another breath, slower this time. “I’m fine. I just saw your bed and thought you’d used my ability to get awesome sleep anywhere to leave me behind.”

Derek jerks and looks incredulous. “You panicked because you thought I left you?”

Stiles can feel his face heating. His dragon has some opinions about Derek that Stiles would like to keep hidden for as long as possible, possibly forever. “How did you know anyway, that I panicked?”

Derek’s eyes drop down and he lies. “I was outside the door and heard your breathing.”

Stiles knows Derek is lying, can hear the way his heart betrays his words, but Derek doesn’t know that Stiles knows what he is. Stiles wants to let Derek have that secret for a bit longer. He has plenty of his own. He lets the lie go. 

Derek holds out what he has in his hand. “Here. I brought you some food for breakfast.”

Stiles has the urge to hug this man again. “You brought me food?” The dragon inside Stiles raises its head and takes acute interest in the wolf gifting them with food. 

“You would be upset if I left?” Derek presses.

Stiles’s dragon wants to answer, wants to tell Derek that they like his company and the way he smells when he is relaxed and sleeping or brooding and riding his horse. Stiles swallows all those replies and says, “Who would I talk to if I traveled by myself?”

Derek chuckles and shoves a wrapped bundle at Stiles. “I’m sure you’d find someone to subject to your unique brand of companionship.”

Stiles takes the bundle and opens it to find a pastry that smells of meat and cheese and an apple. He takes a bite of the flakey pastry and groans. “This is so good. I know you like me now. You fed me.” It’s as close to the truth as Stiles will ever reveal and it’s enough for his dragon to stop scrabbling at his consciousness.

“I don’t want to listen to you if you get cranky from hunger,” Derek says over his shoulder as he goes over to his bag and starts digging in it. Stiles can hear the smile even if he can’t see it and he grins while he eats, sitting in bed.

They spend the day going around the village, knocking on doors, and talking to people. Derek, for all his gruffness, knows just how to approach people to get them to talk to him when he wants information. When he needs to be, he is empathetic and kind, and Stiles has trouble keeping his mind focused on their task because of it. He does manage to contribute by asking about small details that Derek doesn’t catch. One of them leads them to a boggy area with a pond about two miles northwest of the village.

They stay upwind from the pond, unsure if the bunyip is there or if it has a developed sense of smell. Derek prowls around, eyes on the pond and Stiles looks around and finds a tall tree that will serve his purpose. He shimmies up the tree, only skinning his hands a bit, and perches as high as he’s able until the branches get too small.

“What are you doing up there?” Derek hisses.

“I can see better up here.” 

Stiles would prefer to fly over the area. They could get a much better view of what they are dealing with but he doesn’t dare. It’s been weeks since he’s been in a place safe enough to change and he can feel the ache between his shoulders. He’s going to have to shift soon.

Derek is standing beneath the tree Stiles is in. “Can you see anything?”

Stiles scans the area and his eyes snag on a log on the far side of the pond. He looks again and can’t be sure. Stiles checks to see that Derek is directly below him so he won’t see what he’s about to do. Stiles lets his eyes change, a bright copper with gold irises, and looks at the log. Stiles can see the heat from the bunyip where it is laying concealed in the water. He flicks his eyes back to normal and looks down at Derek with his completely human brown eyes.

“There’s something that looks like a log on the far side of the pond. It’s our bunyip.”

Derek squints at the log. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Derek nods. “We shouldn’t attack it while it’s in the water, it’ll just escape into the pond. We can wait for it to leave at night to feed. Can you keep an eye on it from up there?”

“I can. What are going to do?”

Derek starts climbing the tree. “Join you. Unless you’d like me to go somewhere else.”

“No, come on up.”

That is how they end up whispering in the branches of the tree while they wait for the sun to go down. Derek is on a limb close to Stiles, close enough that their feet touch as Stiles swings his foot back and forth, back and forth.

“I used to climb trees all the time when I was little. I was a better climber than Scott, my adopted brother, but one day he fell out of the tree we were in and popped his shoulder out of its socket when he landed on it. I was so scared Melissa would skin me alive or toss me out on my ass. She popped Scott’s shoulder back in, she’s the local healer, did I tell you that? He had to wear a sling for a few days but that was hardly the last scrape we got into.” Stiles looks to see if Derek is still listening.

Derek’s mouth is curled up, just barely, and his eyes are set on the bunyip in the pond. The lowing sun is bathing Derek’s face in reds and oranges and Stiles can feel his chest tighten. He curls his hands into fists so he doesn’t reach out to touch him. The dragon inside of him is roaring for Stiles to move closer, to wrap his hands around Derek, and to breathe him in deep so Derek can take root in their soul. Stiles has to close his eyes.

When Stiles opens his eyes Derek is looking at him and he jerks at the weight of it enough that he loses his balance. Stiles windmills his arms but he lists sideways on the branch and braces himself to fall, but a strong grip grabs him and yanks him back upright. 

Derek’s hand is tight enough on his arm to leave bruises - if he bruised as easily as a human - and Derek doesn’t let go. His hand stays on Stiles and his eyebrows are tilted down in a definite sign of annoyance. 

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Derek hisses.

“No?”

Derek rolls his eyes and releases Stiles’s arm. He wants to grab his hand back, but he sits on the tree branch and accepts that he is on the edge of a Derek shaped cliff and he’s not sure how to back away from the edge.

Stiles keeps his peace and watches the bunyip and steals glances at Derek. As soon as the last tip of the sun dips beneath the tree line, there is movement on the far side of the pond. Stiles and Derek share a look, then quietly climb down the tree trunk. Once they are on the ground, they nod to each other and head in opposite directions around the pond. Stiles can hear the snick of Derek’s sword as he slides it free and he pulls out his bo. He’d prefer to use claws against something like a bunyip, but he can’t let Derek know what he truly is. Not ever.

An emotion that threatens to rip through him rises and Stiles ruthlessly pushes it down. This is not the time and he doesn’t plan on making time for it soon or ever. He focuses on the task at hand. 

Stiles lets his eyes shift so he can see in the dark a bit better. He’ll have to switch back once he gets close enough for Derek to see the glow in the dark, but for now it’s helpful. He can see three bunyips on the bank of the pond. The other two must have been under the water or in a nearby puddle to sleep for the day. Stiles tightens his grip on his bo and gets ready to move on the one closest to where he is crouched in the tall bog grass.

The closer Stiles gets to the bunyips the stronger the smell of rotten meat and pungent, stagnant water gets until Stiles is almost choking on it. He opens his mouth to breathe as he slinks closer, though that’s not much better. He’s in Derek’s line of sight now so he switches his eyes back. He can still see better than a human in the dark but everything loses its precise edges. 

On Derek’s signal, the call of a night owl, Stiles springs forward, bo out like a spear for the eye of the closest bunyip. He does his best to ignore the feeling of the bunyip’s eyeball as it pops and gives way and the way the hardened wood vibrates as it penetrates the bunyip’s brain and hits the back of its skull. He wasn’t lying when he told Derek he was a pacifist. Stiles doesn’t like fighting. It is, however, occasionally a necessity and Stiles has learned how to defend himself and others, in more ways than one.

Before Stiles can pull the bo free from the first monster, the third bunyip crashes into him. Once he is off his feet the bunyip pounces, claws out and slashing. Stiles barely manages to roll to one side to avoid the first swipe of two inch long claws. He does not manage to get his bo free from the eye socket of the first bunyip and Stiles curses and he continues his roll.

The bunyip chases him in a gait that should be too fast for the short bowed legs of the animal, but it’s teeth are way too close to Stiles’s face for his comfort. If Derek wasn’t here he could shift and tear through the monster in one bite from his jaws, but he can’t. He’s got to fight this thing with no weapon and no claws of his own. Stiles slams into a tree and starts scrambling to stand. He senses rather than sees Derek coming closer as Stiles narrowly misses being swiped by the claws again. 

Stiles can hear the arc of the sword as it whistles through the air and then the last bunyip’s head rolls to his feet. A warm spray of blood covers Stiles’s face. The blood is pungent in the same way the animal itself is and Stiles tries very hard not to open his mouth and let in any of the blood.

Derek drops to his knees in front of Stiles, hand still clenched around the hilt of his sword. “Did it get you? Are you all right?”

Stiles can hear Derek’s heart racing through his chest and smell the fear coming off him, fear that Stiles had been hurt.

Stiles pulls a patch of cloth from his trouser pocket and wipes off his face before speaking. "I’m fine. Not too happy to be covered in bunyip blood, but I am happy to still be alive to complain about it.”

Derek laughs, a relieved sound that Stiles wants to bottle and keep so he can remember that Derek Hale does, in fact, laugh and care about him. Derek falls back on his ass and takes a deep breath. “I thought it got you when you started rolling and lost your bo.”

“I thought it was going to have me too. Thanks for the assist. I owe you one.”

Derek stands and offers a hand up to Stiles. “We don’t need to keep score.”

Stiles accepts the hand and stands. The movement puts him very close to Derek. He has to swallow down the rush of adrenaline that’s still pumping through his veins, joined by a surge of want and need. Stiles knows Derek will be able to smell it on him and steps back, giving them both some distance.

He looks at the dead bunyips. “We should burn the bodies to cut down on the smell. We can keep the heads to turn over to the town tomorrow.”

Derek walks over to one of the other bodies and lops off the head with on downward swing. “That way they’ll know we’re honest and will pay us.”

“Exactly.”

With two of them working, it doesn’t take very long to get the bodies burning. It would have taken less time if Stiles could have burned them with dragon fire, both to start and to burn, but that is not something he can do. Stiles’s dragon is annoyed at not being able to show off for Derek and huffs into a corner of Stiles’s subconscious. 

It’s near midnight when the fire is almost down to embers and Derek and Stiles sit on some dry ground to admire their handiwork.

There’s some space between them, but Stiles can feel Derek next to him, a radiating awareness he doesn't want to shake. Stiles shifts to face Derek. “You were good today.”

Derek mirrors Stiles’s movements so that Stiles can see into Derek’s face. “With the bunyips? You already thanked me for that.”

Stiles chuckles. “No, with the people. You’re good at talking to people when you have a goal in mind. Me, I just talk without a destination which is why I tend to wander all over the place. I eventually get to where I’m going.”

“Not before you’ve irritated your companions,” Derek mutters loud enough for Stiles to hear.

“Oh ho, companions now are we?” Stiles kicks Derek’s foot with his own.

“Don’t push your luck,” Derek says, but Stiles sees his smile before he tries to hide it with an exaggerated frown. 

---

They leave Elmgrove a day later, richer than they were before and having added to the stories of Derek’s prowess and Stiles’s ability to sing any tune yelled at him from a crowd. Derek sat in the corner of the square and watched as Stiles held court over the town, who had all turned out for the performance from the musician who also kills bunyips. Derek likes the way Stiles looks in the light of the bonfire in the square, but he will never tell Stiles that.

They travel for four days, stopping at night in small groves of trees and sit around a fire, talking. By the third night, Derek is really tired of sleeping on the ground and he has a restlessness he can’t shake. He wants to shift and run on all fours, but he can’t do that with Stiles near. He doesn’t think Stiles would see him as a monster that needed hunting, but he’s already paid too dearly for revealing his secret to the wrong person once. He lost everything once because of his carelessness. He won’t let that happen again.

They are setting up camp the fourth evening - Stiles is gathering wood and Derek is starting the fire. Stiles is chatting to himself or maybe to Derek, Derek isn’t sure which, so he is only half paying attention.

“The McCalls live another day’s travel east from here. We could make a detour and get a warm meal and beds with a roof over our heads. Melissa is a wonder in the kitchen. We might find work in the area.” There is the bittersweet smell of longing coming from Stiles.

Derek blows gently on the fire and looks up at Stiles. “How long has it been since you’ve been home?”

The smell gets stronger then dissipates. “Three months.”

The flames are small but lick around the kindling until they grow and Derek adds some larger sticks to the fire. “I think a detour is fine. I’m set to meet up with my… family in two weeks time. It’s a two day journey from Beacon Township so we could spend a week there or more. As long as I don’t miss my own rendezvous.”

Stiles drops the armful of logs he’s gathered by the fire, brushing off the bark and dirt on his sleeves. “So you have to go meet your Pack? I thought you said your family died.”

Derek’s stomach drops to his feet and he reacts on instinct. He grabs a fistful of Stiles’s shirt and pushes him back into the trunk of the nearest tree. “What do you mean by Pack?” His voice is just above a growl.

Stiles’s smell goes from easy to the acrid smell of fear. He pales and Derek watches Stiles’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Derek’s gums itch as his fangs threaten to poke through and he has to blink to keep the red from his eyes. The fear and anger pumping through his veins do nothing to obscure the feel of Stiles’s lean strength pressed against him.

Derek leans his face into Stiles until their noses are almost touching. “What do you mean by Pack?”

“Shit, my mouth. Look, I mean, you’re a werewolf right? It just slipped out.” Stiles’s voice is even, resigned. He doesn’t sound as scared as he smells and he smells terrified.

“How do you know that?” Derek’s fist tightens on Stiles. He will not let anything happen to his Pack. He will protect them over everyone else, even if he is starting to admire Stiles. Derek will never place his own feelings above the Pack ever again. “How. Do. You. Know.”

Stiles presses his lips together and his shoulders drop. “I just know. I have some… magic of my own. I can usually spot magic in others. That’s it. I would never hurt you or your Pack. I don’t think werewolves are monsters. Well, some might be, but you clearly are not.”

Derek’s hand eases but he doesn’t release Stiles. “How long have you known?”

Stiles’s eyes drop and snag on Derek’s mouth. Stiles’s smell sweetens just a bit before all Stiles’s scents even out until Derek can’t smell anything but the smell of citrus and woodsmoke again. 

“I knew the minute you walked into The Dragon’s Hoard.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Derek opens his hand but leaves it on Stiles’s chest, palm flat, and he doesn’t move back.

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. It’s obviously a secret you wanted to keep.” Stiles shrugs. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”

Derek smooths out Stiles’s shirt and takes a step back. The front of him that was close to Stiles feels colder with space between them. “I have a question for you then.” Derek still hasn’t worked out what Stiles is because he is clearly something, but he also doesn’t want to ask that. Like him, Stiles might be keeping it a secret for a reason and Derek can respect that.

Stiles pales a bit more and swallows, but he nods.

“Sometimes, I can smell your emotions and sometimes I can’t. Are you using magic to hide parts of your scent?”

Stiles’s cheeks redden and his tongue darts out and runs along the top of his lip before pulling his lip between his teeth. Derek’s eyes follow that pink dart as if it is the only thing holding him upright. Derek shakes himself and clamps down on whatever this is he’s feeling.

Stiles nods and says carefully, “Yes, my magic allows me to hide parts of my scent.” 

Stiles is telling the truth and Derek relaxes. He puts his back to Stiles and throws more wood on the fire. Over his shoulder he says, “Relax, I’m not going to ask you what you are. I, of all people, know that’s sometimes a secret that needs to be kept. For now, I know you have my back in a fight and that’s enough.”

Derek looks up at Stiles, who is still standing against the tree where Derek left him. Stiles is still watching him warily with those warm whiskey eyes that Derek would happily drown in if he allowed himself the leisure to do so. He says it’s enough but Derek is starting to suspect that he wants more than a fighting partner from Stiles. It’s been a long time since Derek has been interested in someone and he doesn’t want to relive past mistakes. He can’t lose like that again. He wants to go into this with his head on straight and his eyes wide open.

They reach the McCall property by late afternoon the next day. Stiles is buzzing with energy the closer and closer they get to the farm where he grew up until he’s even starting to make Derek antsy. The moment they step onto a long drive, a woman with dark curly hair looks out from the door of a barn sitting off from a solid two story house with a large porch. Derek can hear her yelling for Scott and someone named Allison.

“I think we’ve been spotted.” Derek looks at Stiles and is momentarily blinded by the sheer joy the other man is radiating.

Stiles grabs Derek’s shoulder and slaps him on the back. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

Derek doesn’t know about the welcome he’ll likely receive but he does know that the heat of Stiles’s touch on his shoulder is lighting an awareness down to his toes.

A man starts down the drive, plainly dressed but in quality clothes, with a boyish grin and a mop of curly dark hair. Stiles kicks his horse forward, leaving Derek. When Stiles is close enough, he vaults from the saddle. The two men rush into each other’s arms and give each other a hug that is so tight it looks painful. By the time Derek catches up to them, the woman who had spotted them first reaches the pair. Derek swings out of his saddle and grabs the reins of both their horses.

“Stiles, we didn’t know to expect you.” The man releases Stiles and Stiles goes straight to the woman and hugs her with no less enthusiasm but less force.

“Melissa, it’s good to be home.” Stiles eases his embrace and waves in Derek’s direction. “I brought a friend. I hope that’s all right. Derek, this is Scott McCall and his mother Melissa. This is Derek Hale. We met in The Dragon’s Hoard in Plymouth and we’ve been traveling together for about a week.”

Scott makes a choked noise but recovers. “Nice to meet you, Derek. Please, make yourself at home and feel free to stay as long as you need to.”

Derek bows slightly. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Stiles.” Another woman comes out of the house, pink mouth curved up in a smile and dark brown eyes snapping in pleasure.

“Allison, my love. Have you decided you’re tired of this man yet?” Stiles hugs Allison and Derek’s heart aches at the welcome, knows what it means to have people waiting for you.

Allison laughs and the sound is infectious. Derek can’t help the small smile that plays around his mouth at this reunion.

“I’m way too much woman for you, believe me.” Allison busses Stiles on the cheek. “Introduce me to your friend.”

Stiles makes introductions again and Derek can’t remember the last time he was welcomed like this. Usually in towns, people are glad to see him if there’s a unique problem he can solve but they stay apart, wary. You might welcome the wolf into your den when you need a hunter, but you don’t want it too near your family.

Melissa gives all of them the indulgent smile of a mother whose chicks are all in the roost. “Scott, you and Stiles take the horses to the barn. Allison and I will show Derek to one of the guest rooms and he can rest before dinner.”

Stiles gives Derek a jaunty smile, one Derek is coming to know well, and turns to follow Scott towards the barn. Derek watches Stiles walk away from him, deep green cape flowing behind him, and Derek’s heart stutters. This is where Stiles belongs, his home, and Derek will likely be leaving here alone. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of this reality before and that his time with Stiles is quickly coming to a close. Derek closes his eyes and breathes through the pinching in his chest.

Melissa moves closer to Derek and lays a hand on his arm. “I can show you to your room now. You look tired.”

Derek opens his eyes and looks down at the short woman with kind brown eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

He follows her on wooden legs, still reeling, The house is nice, but not elegant. The McCalls are landowners, but not wealthy ones. This is a working farm. He follows Melissa up the stairs and to a room at the end of the hall. She opens the door and ushers him in. The room is decorated in greens and blues, with thick rugs on the floor and a window that faces a vegetable garden in the back of the house.

Melissa opens the curtains and the window. The rush of fresh air clears Derek’s head. “You’re right next door to Stiles so if you need anything, he can help you.” She turns around and looks at him. Whatever she sees makes her face go soft. “I’ll make you some tea and bring it up, along with some fresh water.” She lays her hand on his arm again before she leaves the room.

Derek drops his stuff and sits on the bed. It’s been a very long time since someone mothered him and it feels both familiar and foreign. It’s too much all at once and Derek rises on shaky legs to unpack some of his clothes from his saddlebags. The routine of it has him collected, feelings safely tucked away, by the time Melissa returns with tea, biscuits, and a pitcher of water.

Derek hears when Stiles comes up to his own room, can hear him touching everything in the room, can hear how Stiles’s heart ebbs and flows as he reacqaints himself with home. Stiles’s heart has its own rhythm that Derek has been hearing for weeks now and he lets the sound soothe him, though he knows it’s foolish to keep nurturing this connection he’s going to have to sever soon. Derek pushes aside everything. He has a Pack to protect and he won’t jeopardize them because he’s unable to get a heartbeat and whiskey eyes out of his mind.

Dinner is a loud and warm affair. Derek is introduced to two more men that Melissa has taken under her wing, Theo and Liam, who work as farm hands but are treated more like family. There’s a quiet woman with tightly curled hair in a wrap named Meredith who brings out the food with Allison, then sits in an empty chair at the table. It seems the line between servants and family is non-existent. Everyone here is family, but everyone has a job, a place that has meaning. Derek lets the comfort seep into his bones.

Stiles waves his arms and tells stories about how he met Derek, how Derek was incredibly rude to him, and how they killed the bunyip. Derek rolls his eyes at the exaggerations, but loves the way Stiles’s hands look as they articulate the stories so he doesn’t complain. 

When dinner is over, Liam turns to Stiles and says, “It’s been a long time since you were home and we heard you play. Will you play for us tonight?”

Stiles’s smile is indulgent, even though Derek can see Stiles is tired. “Of course, I’ll play. I’ll even take requests.”

There’s a scramble to get everything cleaned up. Everyone but Allison and Meridith help. They’re excused since they cooked and Melissa refuses to let Derek assist with clearing the table. In less than twenty minutes, they’re in a sitting room with a roaring fire and everyone spread in a semi circle around Stiles. Derek sits slightly removed where he can see everyone and has a line of sight to Stiles.

Stiles tunes the cittern then bows before settling onto a stool that was in a corner. “Allison, you can have the first choice.”

Allison requests something Derek’s never heard of, not that he paid much attention to music before Stiles, but the melody is sweet, a man trying to get to his lost love after a war. Stiles sings in his sure tenor and Derek has trouble remembering he is in a room with other people. All he can hear and see is Stiles. He swallows down the need to go curl up at Stiles’s feet as a wolf and sleep there. Derek knows he is lost in a forest of trouble. 

Scott suggests a jaunty tune after that, about a dragon that tricks a hunter. Scott and Stiles laugh about that one but it earns them a glare from Melissa. Stiles still sings the song. The night passes on like that until everyone has requested a song. 

Everyone but Derek.

Stiles gives him a small grin. “Derek, would you like a song too? Last one of the night.”

Theo groans in protest and Stiles shakes a finger at him. “It’s the first night I’m back. I can sing more tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’m home now.”

It’s the last words Stiles says that punch Derek in the gut. He looks around the room and sees a home and family. Stiles’s home and family. Derek chokes back the whine that threatens to escape his throat. He has to control himself better. He barely knows Stiles. It doesn’t matter how attached his wolf is getting. Things are more complicated than his baser instincts understand.

“Derek?” Stiles is watching him, a line between his eyes, like he’s concerned and can tell Derek’s upset. “Do you want me to sing you a song to end the night?” 

Derek nods and tries to think of what he should request but his mind is blank except for the openness in Stiles’s eyes as he waits. Derek finally rasps out, “Dealer’s choice.”

Stiles’s grin widens. “As the gentleman requests, how about this one?” Stiles picks at the strings then starts singing and Derek forgets to do anything else but listen, barely breathing as the words eave into his blood.

I will build my love a bower

By yon cool crystal fountain

And 'round it I will pile

All the wild flowers o' the mountain

Will ye go, lassie, go?

After the song, Derek flees the room, like the coward he knows himself to be, closes himself in the room he was shown and collapses on the bed, heart pounding and music in his heart.

---

It takes two days before Stiles feels safe enough to leave Derek at the house with Allison while he and Scott go into the woods far away from everything. Not because he’s scared for Derek, but he’s worried about what Allison sees and what she might say to Derek. Allison pays attention to people and Stiles does not want her thinking that there is anything going on between him and Derek. Nothing is happening because nothing can happen.

Stiles rambles about his adventures as he walks with Scott through the fields and then through the trees to a clearing three miles from the house. Scott catches Stiles up on the local gossip. It feels good to be home, in a place that remembers him and all his past mistakes and accepts him back with warmth regardless of past sins. He has missed Scott’s company more than he’s noticed.

There’s a hardness under Stiles’s breastbone that won’t let him be still, something that’s keeping him from taking the kind of comfort he needs from home. Home is missing something and Stiles is starting to have an idea about what has changed since he was home last. It’s an idea that leaves him feeling bruised and alarmed.

They reach the clearing when the sun is just reaching its peak. Stiles closes his eyes and lets his senses go, making sure there isn’t anyone to see what happens next. He grins broadly at Scott when all he senses is a family of opossums in a log about fifty feet away.

Stiles strips out of his clothes and releases the tight control he has over his other side. The change ripples through Stiles in less than a heartbeat and in his place is a red and grey dragon with black accents. Stiles has to choke back the urge to roar with relief. Something that loud would definitely carry through to the house, to Derek. Stiles stretches his wings and beats them without taking off the ground. 

It feels glorious.

Scott waits, eyes shining, while Stiles stretches, then walks up to the red dragon. In this form, Stiles is twice the height of a tall man and he has to bend his head down to allow Scott to run a hand over his muzzle. 

“Hey, buddy. It’s been a long time.” 

Stiles blows air out on Scott, making the man laugh. Stiles chuffs in response and relaxes into this form. His dragon is too big to let out many places, and while he wants nothing more than to fly, he can’t expose himself to Derek or other hunters nearby. He has to stay safe and hidden, always hidden.

Thinking of Derek makes his dragon restless. It wants Derek, wants to be close to the other man, to show him this other form so Derek will know what a good fighting partner he would be, how the dragon could take care of them both. Stiles tenses up and closes his eyes and he tries to reign in his control. A keening whine fills the clearing.

Scott pats the strong muscles on Stiles’s leg. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are we in danger?”

Scott’s scent is colored with fear and anxiety and Stiles tries to force himself to calm down but all he can do is think about flying back to the house to Derek. Stiles wrestles his dragon under control and shakes as he comes out of the shift, afraid of what his dragon would do if he let it be completely in control.

He’s on all fours, shaking and barely able to breathe. 

Scott throws Stiles’s discarded shirt over Stiles. “Is someone coming? Do we need to leave?” There’s urgent fear now in Scott’s voice. He’s never seen Stiles act like this and Stiles barely knows how to explain it to Scott.

Stiles shakes his head. “No. No one is coming.”

“What’s wrong then?”

Stiles shudders, still wrestling to keep himself under control. “It’s Derek. My dragon wants to go to Derek.”

Scott’s hand shakes as he hands Stiles his trousers. “You know what he is. Who he is.”

Stiles shoves his legs into his trousers. “Wouldn’t be much of a dragon if I didn’t know the name of the family who’s killed more dragons than any other, would I?” Stiles buttons up his fly and secures his belt. “Derek’s fine. I’m fine. He doesn’t know and he won’t ever know what I am.”

Scott’s eyes are still wide and worried. “What’s going on then? You never lose control in your dragon form.”

Stiles closes his eyes. He can’t look at Scott when he admits what the last five minutes have confirmed for him. “My dragon wants to choose Derek as it’s mate. It wants, I want Derek. I was hoping it hadn’t already gotten attached, but I think that’s a lost cause.”

“Stiles, dragons mate for life.” Scott’s hand comes down on Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles flinches away, eyes squeezed shut. “You think I don’t fucking know that? Dammit, Scott. I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this.” Stiles opens his eyes and pleads. “He can never know.”

“But, Stiles,” Scott protests.

Stiles cuts him off. “No. No one else will ever know what I am. I won’t put anyone else in danger.” Stiles grabs his bo and straps it across his back. “Let’s go back to the house.”

If Scott notices that Stiles doesn’t say home, he doesn’t comment on it. 

Stiles stays out in the fields for the rest of the day, repairing a fence that needed two of the posts replaced. He refuses help from Liam, Theo, and Scott. Stiles works until the sun goes down and the air gets chilly. When the fence is done, Stiles hangs over the fence and looks over the fields, placing his fingers over the threads of his life, trying to discern what he should do next. Hiding in a cave forever like his ancestors is starting to have some appeal.

He hears Derek’s heartbeat before he hears the footsteps of the other man. Stiles stays there on the fence, back to Derek’s approach.

Derek mirrors Stiles’s posture on the fence, careful to keep some distance between them. “Scott says you needed some space, but I decided one afternoon of pouting was enough so I came to find you.”

Stiles chuckles and he’s glad because he hopes it covers the way his heart gives everything away. “I needed some time to think.”

Derek nods. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t always people well. I, of all people, understand needing time alone. I was wondering what the limits to your extroversion were, now I know.”

Stiles lets the silence dance around them for a long time. “This is the home I grew up in. It’s a place I’ve always been safe. For months, I wanted to get back here and now that I’m here…”

“You aren’t sure if this is your place,” Derek finishes, and Stiles feels naked in the wake of that truth.

Stiles turns his head to look at Derek in the fading light. His beard is dark on his face, a contrast to his skin, making an outline of harsh dark and light. “Scott and Allison are perfect for each other, but this is their house. I feel more like an unwanted wheel now than I ever have before. When I’m gone, their lives are seamless, they continue on.” 

Derek angles to face Stiles. “My mother used to say that when you love someone there's always a hole there when they’re gone, even for a short time. You want there to be a Stiles shaped hole here.”

Stiles’s breath catches and he can barely breathe past the constriction in his throat. He nods until he trusts his voice. “I know they love me and miss me, but I don’t think this is home any longer and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

Derek’s body tenses up. Stiles feels the hesitation rolling off him, then Derek reaches out, slow like he’s afraid Stiles will dart out of reach, and wraps his fingers around Stiles’s wrist. With his other hand, Derek slides his fingers over the back of Stiles’s neck. It’s been a long day of emotions and the dragon is clawing to come to the surface, to lean into this touch, but Stiles can’t. Can’t. Ever. 

And he breaks inside. 

His scent must change just enough so that Derek can smell the sadness pouring out of him. Stiles is thankful that emotion can be explained away by the conversation and not by the fact that Derek was touching, scenting him. Stiles knows what it could mean that Derek would offer him this kind of touch comfort. He knows but it doesn’t matter because it can never be, never have the meaning Stiles longs for in that simple yet weighted touch.

Derek’s hands tighten. “You know what I am. I don’t touch people lightly, don’t leave my scent without intention.”

Stiles closes his eyes. “I know.”

“I don’t know what you’re looking for, but you have a place with me as a traveling companion if you’d like. Against all logic, I enjoy your company and I’ve found that I appreciate our relationship.” Derek does not move his hands.

“And what is that relationship exactly?” Stiles opens his eyes and looks directly into the unfathomable hazel of Derek’s eyes.

Derek’s eyebrows go up. “Friends, companions of some kind.”

Stiles’s shoulders drop. Of course, that is all it would be.

Derek’s hand tightens on his wrist. “Maybe something else.”

“Maybe.” Stiles lays his own hand over Derek’s but doesn’t dare move.

“We’ll see.”

Stiles can live with that, knows it’s more than he ever thought he could have and he tries to tell himself it’s enough. 

The next day, Stiles and Derek are helping break in some new horses when a messenger arrives from the neighboring Whitmore Farm. The messenger sees them in the far paddock and changes course to meet them. Stiles doesn’t need to have an advanced sense of smell to know this man is scared. 

He pulls his horse to a stop on the side of the corral, the chests of both animal and rider heaving to catch their breath. “Is one of you the shikari, Derek Hale?”

Derek steps forward and Stiles hands the reigns of the horse he is working with to Scott. Stiles steps up beside Derek, giving the other man a small nod when Derek looks his way.

“I’m Derek Hale.”

The man, a boy really, fishes around in his doublet and pulls out a paper and hands it to Derek. Derek breaks the seal and scans the missive before handing it to Stiles.

Our only daughter was stolen last night by a hairy creature with a high-pitched cry. We have reason to believe that you have experience solving this kind of problem. If you can return our daughter to us alive, you will be handsomely rewarded. If you kill the creature in the process, your fee will double.

J & L Whitmore.

Derek waits until Stiles reads the letter. Stiles knows without being asked what Derek is waiting for and Stiles nods, his lips pressed into a line.

Derek looks up at the messenger. “Tell your master and mistress we’ll be along as soon as we can. We’ll gather our belongings and be right behind you.”

The messenger turns his horse, kicks it in the ribs and tears off back down the road.

Scott jogs over to them. “What was that all about?”

Stiles hands the paper back to Derek. “It looks like Jackson and Lydia’s daughter Heather has been taken by a creature. They’ve asked Derek for help and I’m going.”

Scott frowns. “Why do you need to go?”

Stiles sighs. “Derek, I’ll meet you at the house. I need a few minutes.”

Derek nods and walks quickly in the direction of the house, which is just over a small ridge. Scott waits until Derek is out of sight to speak.

“Why do you need to go with him? He took care of himself before you came along.”

Stiles grabs the fence between them. “It’s not about that. I’m not sure I belong here anymore.”

Scott’s voice brakes. “This is your home. You’re my brother. What do you mean you don’t belong here?”

Stiles leaps over the fence and grabs Scott in a tight hug. “You will always be my brother, but you don’t need me here and I think I am needed elsewhere. I’m not leaving forever. We’ll go to Lydia’s and come back here, then I’m going north with Derek, if he still wants me to go.”

Scott hugs Stiles. “He’s going to hurt you. You can’t have a relationship with someone and hide a secret as big as yours.”

“There's no relationship now.” 

“But there might be.” Scott releases him enough to look into Stiles face.

Stiles nods. “There might be, but my life depends on my silence.”

“I don’t like this, Stiles.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Scotty.”

Scott sighs and wraps an arm around Stiles’s neck as they walk back to the house. “You have to come back often or Mom and Allison will complain and I’ll start to think they like you more than me.”

“Scott.”

“What?”

“I have bad news. They do like me more than you.”

Scott groans and punches him, gently, in the ribs.

It only takes them three hours before they are sitting in the Whitmore’s parlor. Their house is considerably larger than the McCall’s and Jackson lets everyone know that the Whitmore estate is the oldest and largest in the area.

“Lydia, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been too long.” Stiles accepts the teacup that’s offered to him.

Jackson scowls. “That’s Mrs. Whitmore to you.”

Lydia flashes her eyes at her husband. “Jackson, I’ve known Stiles for most of my life and he’s here to help us. If you can’t be civil, you may leave while we talk business.”

Stiles knows better than to laugh. He does not, however, cover the grin on his face. Derek’s face is carefully neutral. Jackson isn’t the worst sort of person, but he does tend to cover up emotions by being an asshole. Fortunately, Stiles grew up as an acquaintance of Jackson’s so he’s more than familiar with this particular tactic.

Lydia turns back with an apologetic smile. “Now, Stiles and Derek. Thank you for coming on such short notice. We have nowhere else to turn and we’ve heard you are the best.”

Derek leans forward, hands on his knees. “What do you know about your daughter’s disappearance?”

Jackson and Lydia share a look and Jackson speaks. “The nanny put her to sleep in the nursery and was sewing in the nursery sitting room while the kids slept. Our eldest, Danny, was asleep in the same room and he’s the one who saw it happen.”

“May we speak to him?” Stiles asks.

Lydia rings a bell on the table next to her and the butler opens the door to the parlor. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Paul, please bring Danny to see us.”

The young butler bows and leaves. The four of them sit in silence until a lanky boy with a head of red hair like his mother’s saunters into the room. He stops in the doorway, straightens and walks with more dignity into the sitting room once he sees there are strangers there.

“Paul said you requested me.” Danny bows slightly in his mother’s direction.

Lydia waves a hand at her son. “You can relax a bit, Danny. Stiles is an old friend and Derek is here to help us find Heather.”

The boy pales and sits in a chair closest to Derek. “You’re the shikari that was at the McCall farm?”

Derek nods and angles himself towards Danny. “What can you tell us about what happened?”

Danny pours himself some tea and balances it on his knee as he talks. “I was asleep in our room when I heard the window open. I wasn’t quite awake, so I thought I was still dreaming. I thought father had come into the room. In the dark it looked human, until it crossed the moonlight and I saw it. It was about six feet tall, and covered in long, light colored hair. It went over to Heather’s bed. She woke up and it scooped her up in its arms.” Danny sips his tea and takes a steadying breath.

Derek meets the boy’s eyes and says, “You’re doing great. What happened next?”

“I realized it was taking her and I jumped out of bed and yelled at it to put her down. Then it let out this high pitched scream, Heather started crying, and it took her out the window.”

Derek leans back in his chair and meets Stiles’s eyes, then looks at Lydia whose hands are wrapped around Jackson’s. “We should be able to find and return your daughter to you. Whatever took her didn’t harm her right away, so we should be able to recover her alive.”

Jackson’s jaw twitches. “If you bring me it’s head, we’ll double the reward.”

Derek asks Danny one more question. “Do you know what direction it went?”

“I ran to the window and saw it run southwest into the trees.”

“Thank you. Mr. Whitmore, if you would show me to the nursery so that I can look around, and Mrs. Whitemore, if you would show Stiles which window is the nursery from the outside of the house, please.”

Stiles knows without being told what Derek wants him to look for because it’s exactly what he would do. Stiles follows Lydia outside and around the side of the house, keeping his eyes on the ground. Stiles is careful not to stand directly under the window and squats down to get a closer look at the ground. The grass is depressed under the window. 

Stiles follows the prints, vague though they are, through the grass until they disappear into the trees. There is one good print in a patch of dirt right at the edge of the trees. Stiles puts his boot up next to it. Stiles’s feet are normal sized - he’s not a short man - but the footprint is a good two inches longer than his own foot. Stiles chews on his bottom lip and thinks.

“Did you find something useful?” Lydia is hovering behind him.

Stiles turns and pats Lydia on the shoulder. “I think so. Let’s go see what Derek found inside.”

The moment Stiles and Lydia walk into the nursery, Stiles can smell something that doesn’t belong there, something like earth and wet dog. Derek doesn’t know Stiles has a heightened sense of smell so he waits to see what Derek tells him. Stiles has his own ideas.

Derek is looking out the window when they walk in and he turns to look at Stiles. “What do you see?” Derek asks Stiles.

Stiles looks around the room. “No struggle. No blood. Whatever was here isn’t a magic user.”

Derek nods. “What did you find outside?

“Large bipedal footprints, about two inches longer than mine. They look human.” Stiles takes a few steps closer to Derek, aware that the Whitmores are watching them from the hallway. “Do you smell anything in here?”

“Wet dog and dirt.”

Stiles nods and drops his voice so only Derek can heart him. “It’s possible it’s a urayuli. I’ve never heard of one this far south, but stranger things have happened.”

Stiles expects Derek to dismiss the idea. Urayuli’s are usually seen on the tundra and scrub forests far to the north. 

Derek’s face doesn’t change, but Stiles can see the difference, can see Derek’s brian working through the problem and coming up with the same solution.

Derek gives Stiles a curt nod. “It would explain the high pitched yell.”

“The question is what does it want with the girl? I didn’t think they bothered humans at all.” Stiles takes another step towards Derek. “Do you think you can track it?” Stiles is perfectly capable of tracking the things, but he’s not supposed to be.

“I think so.”

“We’ll be back soon.” Stiles tells Lydia and Jackson when he follows Derek out of the room.

Stiles follows Derek following the trail for an hour on foot, until they come to a small brook with a lean to next to it. Sitting under the roof of the rough shelter is a red haired girl and a light brown monster that resembles nothing more than a man covered in long, light brown hair. 

The urayuli jerks it’s head up as Stiles and Derek attempt to sneak up on it. Derek’s sword is in his hand and Stiles draws his bo. They split to come at the monster from opposite sides. The monster leaps to its feet and pushes the little girl behind it. 

“Heather, we’re here to help,” Stiles says, never taking his eyes off the monster, which has started to growl a deep and menacing sound. Stiles wishes he could change into a dragon and end this quickly, but that’s not an option. 

The little girl has wide blue eyes and she screams and jumps up, pulling on the monster’s hair. The urayuli doesn’t move and Heather runs around it, holding out her hands to Stiles and Derek. “Stop. Don’t hurt Cleo.”

The urayuli grabs the little girl and pushes the girl behind itself again. Heather starts sobbing. “Don’t hurt her.”

Stiles runs through everything in his head and straightens up. “Derek, wait.” Derek’s eyes flick towards Stiles but he keeps moving forward. The growls from the monster get louder. 

“Derek, stop,” Stiles says louder this time.

Derek tenses and really looks at Stiles.

Stiles looks at the sobbing girl and the monster protecting her. “I don’t think the urayuli kidnapped the girl. I think Heather went willingly. She never screamed or seemed scared in the story Danny told us. Look at them.”

Derek does look and Stiles can see the moment Derek puts all the pieces together because he relaxes and puts his sword away.

Stiles puts his own bo back in its harness. “Heather, is that your name?”

“Yes,” the girl hiccups.

“Who is your friend there?”

A smile breaks over the girl’s chubby face. “This is Cleo. She’s my best friend. She came to get me last night for an adventure.”

Stiles and Derek share a look. “Can you speak to Cleo, Heather?”

Heather nods. “We have our own secret hand language. Watch.”

Heather pulls on Cleo’s hair until the urayuli looks down at the girl. The girl’s hands move quickly and then, Stiles’s mouth drops open when the monster responds to the girl.

“Oh my gods.” Stiles has to force himself to close his mouth.

Heather nods to the urayuli and looks at Stiles. “Are you here to hurt me or Cleo?”

“We’re here because your parents are worried about you,” Derek tries taking a step closer to the girl, but the urayuli growls louder and shields the girl from Derek.

“Derek, it thinks we’re here to hurt the girl. I really don’t think it’s going to hurt her.” Stiles takes a step towards Derek.

Heather stomps out around the urayuli. “Of course she won’t hurt me.” Heather glares at Stiles. “She’s my friend. It’s not her fault she looks like this. She’s really just like one of those dessert puffs Cook makes for me.”

“Derek, she’s telling the truth. What do your senses tell you about the… about Cleo?” Stiles asks, taking another step towards Derek.

Derek tilts his head and takes a deep breath. “It’s scared of us and,” he breathes through his nose, “and scared for her. Determined. It’s protecting her.”

Stiles opens his hands and puts them in front of him, palms up. “Cleo, we aren’t here to hurt Heather or you. Her parents are worried about her. They care about her too. They are scared. We came to take her home.”

Cleo whines, high pitched and her smell shifts from fear to sadness. She is alone, far away from her kind and Stiles has to push aside the painful understanding that grips him, the knowledge that he is little better than this urayuli - alone and lost and clinging to the one thing that is making him feel less alone.

Stiles looks at Derek and knows that he is no better, he is just as lost, and Stiles doesn’t know if he’ll survive Derek leaving. He won’t be able to stay with Derek forever. All of this is temporary.

Heather grabs Cleo’s hand and looks up at the urayuli. “I’m not leaving without her. If I go home, she’s coming too.”

Stiles blinks away the moisture in his eyes and breathes through the painful beating of his heart. “She can come.”

Cleo picks up the girl and nuzzles her face. Stiles has to look away. “I’ll go ahead and explain things to Lydia and Jackson. Give me about a twenty minutes head start.” Stiles walks away without looking back at the monster who found home with a little girl and the man who will be leaving and taking Stiles’s soul with him.

---

Derek watches Stiles’s retreating back and feels lost. He watches Heather and Cleo as the girl chats to Cleo with a combination of verbal words and hand signals and can’t get the image of Stiles watching the pair with tears in his eyes. When the other man had walked away, Stiles had smelled like despair and it had taken everything in Derek to let him go. Something had happened, something Derek didn't understand, but he understood one thing.

Derek did not like Stiles being upset.

Derek wants nothing more than to chase after Stiles, to hunt him down and bury his face in Stiles’s neck and hold him until his scent changes from the bitter smell of despair to the warm smell of contentment of safety. Derek closes his eyes and physically holds himself in one place while he waits.

When he leads Cleo and Heather out of the trees - Cleo still carrying Heather - Lydia and Jackson are waiting for them in the back garden. Lydia takes a step forward, but Jackson stays her with a hand on her arm. When they’re about twenty feet away, Cleo puts Heather down and the girl grabs the urayuli’s hand and drags her the rest of the way. Cleo’s eyes are darting between the four adults, but they settle on Heather and her large brown eyes go soft.

“Mother, Father, this is my friend Cleo.” Heather moves closer to Cleo. “Cleo, these are my parents. I told you about them.” The girl stands up straight and looks her parents in the eye. “I promised Cleo she could live with us, inside. She’s kind and she loves me. She doesn’t have a family and she has nowhere else to go.”

Lydia and Jackson share and look and Lydia steps forward, her hand outstretched. “Cleo, you’re welcome to make this your home as long as you’d like.”

Cleo relaxes and steps closer to Lydia and the woman embraces the urayuli. Heather makes a squealing noise of joy and Jackson joins the group hug. Derek looks over at Stiles and the other man looks wrecked, broken open, and Derek’s breath hitches. Stiles hears it and his face is instantly blank and his smell all but disappears. 

“I think our work here is done,” Stiles says, his voice as free of emotion as his face.

Jackson breaks from the huddle of his family. “Thank you both.” He pulls a clinking pouch from his doublet. “Here is the amount we agreed upon, plus some extra. Thank you.”

Stiles takes the pouch with a bow and tosses it to Derek. Derek catches it and follows Stiles to the stable. They fetch their horses and ride for home. Stiles is silent the entire way. Whatever magic Stiles is using is still at work because Derek can’t smell Stiles at all, even his normal scent of citrus. Derek used to think that Stiles talked too much, but now he follows the other man home wishing desperately for Stiles to say something, anything.

The oppressive silence presses into Derek. By the time they get to the McCall farm and are in the barn unsaddling their horses and pulling off their bags, Derek’s wolf is snarling with frustration. He clicks the lock on his horse’s stall and looks at Stiles. The other man’s heart rate is increasing and his breathing is getting more and more ragged. 

Stiles is standing a few stalls down, saddlebag at his feet, and one hand on the door of the stall. He turns and looks at Derek, eyes wide and face pale, then collapses back against the wooden door, breathing turning shallow and heart jackrabbiting in his chest. Derek is beside him in three long strides and falls to his knees beside Stiles.

“Stiles, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Stiles’s eyes are wide and the color looks lightened, brighter, and his smell is back, which Derek should rejoice in but Stiles reeks of panic, despair, and another smell he can’t place, something deeper.

Derek puts his hand on Stiles’s shoulders and Stiles’s breathing hitches. “Panic… attack,” is all Stiles manages to say. 

Derek’s hands tighten on Stiles. “I don’t know what to do.” Derek whines at the end because he can tell that Stiles isn’t breathing enough, knows that Stiles needs a deep breath soon. 

Stiles grabs Derek’s hands and doesn’t look away from Derek, even as Stiles’s eyes fill with tears and spill over. The sight breaks everything in Derek and he needs to know what caused this and how to fix it. His wolf is itching for something to fight, but his human side knows there is something else here, something he doesn’t yet understand.

Derek moves his hands, cups Stiles’s face, and wipes the tears with his thumb. “Shhh, Stiles. It’s all right. You’re home. No one here is going to hurt you.”

Stiles shudders and closes his eyes. But his heart doesn’t slow and his breathing gets worse. Real panic seizes Derek and shakes him. He has to do something to break Stiles out of whatever cycle he’s in. Derek doesn’t think through the consequences, he just does the one thing he can think of.

He closes the distance between them and presses his lips to Stiles’s.

Everything pauses with the touch that is both the most simple and most complex act. 

Stiles heart rate stutters then starts over, slower. His hands come up and lay over Derek’s where they are on Stiles’s face. Derek pulls away and keeps his hands on Stiles, eyes searching the other man’s face, looking for signs that he did the wrong thing.

“Why’d you do that?” Stiles’s voice is ragged and hoarse.

Derek keeps his eyes on Stiles. “I, uh, thought it might startle you into breathing again.”

“Thanks, that was really smart.” Stiles leans his forehead against Derek’s.

The contact pulls the truth from Derek. “If I was really smart I would have done that a few days ago instead of waiting until now.”  

Stiles huffs out a laugh. “I’m not going to complain.”

They stay that way for a while, breathing in each other and finding a stillness. Derek breaks the silence.

“What happened?”

Stiles still has a hold of Derek’s hands and they tighten on them until Derek can feel his bones grinding together. “Cleo, she’s far from where she belongs. She doesn’t have a family and she’s the only one of her kind here. She was alone until she found a little girl to care about her. We saved them so they can be together and I couldn’t stop thinking about her being alone and then having someone to care about her.”

Derek recalls the conversation by the fence. “You think you’re like the urayuli, alone.”

Stiles looks away and nods.

Derek redirects Stiles’s gace back to him. “Stiles, you’re not alone. You have people here who care about you: Scott, Allison, and Melissa love you.”

Stiles closes his eyes and a tear runs down his cheek. “I know and it makes me feel ungrateful, but you’re leaving, I mean you said I could go but you’re still leaving and it feels like that’s a gap being here can’t fill.”

Derek stills and takes a deep breath, flooding his senses with the loneliness and despair coming from Stiles. “You had a panic attack because you think I’m leaving?”

Stiles doesn’t open his eyes and nods, and Derek feels as broken as Stiles looks.

Derek leans forward slowly and places a soft kiss on Stiles’s lips again. He wants so desperately to show Stiles more, but he wants to talk about this first. Derek knows if he kisses Stiles the way he wants to, they won’t be talking for a long time.

“Where in the world would I go without you?” Derek asks.

Stiles opens his eyes, they are watered copper. “Back to your pack.”

“Stiles, I want you to come with me. I thought you understood that.”

“How would I have known?” Stiles replies in a whisper.

Derek sighs. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you before. Will you come with me? I can’t promise that my pack will behave, but I think they’d like you and I’d like you to meet them. Plus, I’ve gotten used to having you by my side in a fight.”

---

Stiles still feels shaky after the events in the barn, equally from the panic attack and from Derek kissing him, even if the kiss was more of a rescue than an actual kiss. It still counted and Derek wanted him to go with him when he left. More than that, Stiles is mostly sure Derek wants him. That thought alone sends Stiles’s heart and blood pounding.

Somehow, Stiles makes it through dinner by telling the story of the urayuli, leaving out his breakdown in the barn and its cause. Derek thinks he understands, but he only knows the surface. Stiles looked at that monster that was not a monster and saw himself: alone, isolated from everyone, and he didn’t want to end up that way. Stiles is the last surviving member of his family. There are so few dragons in the world he has never met another. He is alone.

Yet, here in this house are all the people he loves. Stiles’s eyes fall on Derek and he catches the other man looking at him. Stiles can hear Derek’s heart speed up at being caught and he winks at Derek, which makes the other man’s ears turn pink. Derek looks back down at his plate and keeps eating. Stiles cloaks his scent further, both to hide his feelings and the other scent Derek must never get enough of to identify.

Dragon.

He had almost been too panicked to cloak himself properly in the barn today.

What Stiles is contemplating is dangerous, but he knows with a bone deep certainty that he will go with Derek for as long as Derek allows it. He will go but it means always hiding, never being known, and always knowing that if he was known, he would be rejected. His story won’t end like the urayuli because he's in much deeper than befriending a child. Stiles’s hand shakes as he lifts his glass to his lips.

Dinner and the tea after dinner drags on forever once everyone knows Stiles and Derek are leaving in the morning. By the time Stiles stumbles up the stairs to his room, he is exhausted, but he has something else to accomplish tonight while there is a roof over their heads and a bed to sleep in.

Stiles takes his time getting ready for bed. Contemplates if this is the right choice. Derek’s behavior in the barn wasn’t necessarily an invitation for something more, but Stiles wants more. Stiles wants all of it and he wants to find out if that is something available to him. If Derek says no, Stiles will content himself with being near Derek. It would be a shadow of what he desires, but in the end all Stiles wants is Derek safe and happy and close, even if it’s not in a romantic capacity.

Stiles grabs the small vial of oil from his bedside table, slips it into his pocket, takes a steadying breath, and opens his door. Derek’s door is right across from his. The rest of the family is down on the far end of the hallway. Stiles could still close his door and go back to sleep in his bed, alone. 

Stiles closes his own door and takes two steps to cross the hallway. He knocks quietly, knows that Derek likely heard him moving around and leaving his own room.

Derek opens the door, ears already pink, shirt untied at the top, and bare feet visible. Stiles wants to fall down and worship those feet and what seeing them does to his heart. How they make Derek appear both soft and vulnerable and Stiles wants nothing more than to protect and hold him.

Stiles clears his throat. “May I come in?”

Derek steps to the side with a sweep of his hand.

Stiles walks until he’s in the middle of the room. His plan only involved getting in Derek’s room and then being in bed with him. Stiles didn’t plan on the middle parts that he’s starting to expect are actually the most important.

“Stiles?” Derek says from right behind him.

Stiles jumps a little and turns. “What?”

Derek is standing very close. “Did you need something?”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth like a fish, shoes himself, and straightens his spine. “Yes, I do.”

Derek may be a predator but so is Stiles, and Stiles is the most dangerous thing in the room. Stiles smirks and lets some of the danger shine through his eyes. It’s not enough for the dragon, but it’s all it will ever get. Stiles swallows that thought and advances on Derek, who takes a step back. Stiles backs Derek up the four steps it takes for Derek’s back to be flat against the door.

Stiles reaches out and slides a hand into Derek’s hair and then cups the back of Derek’s neck. He puts his other hand on Derek’s waist. “Tell me to stop.”

“No.”

Stiles freezes. “You mean no, Stiles go back to your room or…”

“I mean no, I won’t tell you to stop.” Derek smiles and it’s pure mischief.

“Thank gods.”

Stiles crashes his mouth down on Derek and kisses him like he’s been dreaming about for weeks. It’s messy and Stiles can’t decide where he wants his hands to be so they end up everywhere. Derek’s hand is splayed across the small of Stiles’s back like a brand and his other hand is clenched in Stiles’s hair, pressing them together. Stiles can feel every hard inch of Derek pressing into him and his knees threaten to give way. 

Derek starts to unbutton Stiles’s shirt, then growls and pulls the thing over his head instead. Stiles begins to protest the handling of his clothing until Derek’s mouth slots back over his own while Derek’s hands are tracing fire and need and want in a pattern over Stiles’s chest. He forgets everything. Stiles returns the favor, learning from Derek’s mistakes, and pulls off Derek’s shirt without bothering with ties. 

The frictions of their chests together isn’t the friction Stiles is looking for and his hands go straight to the buttons on Derek’s trousers. Derek’s mouth is leaving nipping kisses along Stiles’s collar bone.

Stiles has to clear his throat and gather his thoughts twice before he can talk. “Can I take off your trousers?”

Derek bites down hard enough to leave a bruise and Stiles’s dick aches. “It’ll be hard to do what I’m hoping you have planned if you leave them on.”

Stiles groans into the soft place behind Derek’s ear and bites his earlobe. “I want you beneath me and begging.”

Derek’s breath catches and the hand in Stiles’s hair tightens. “On one condition.”

Stiles pulls back far enough so he can see Derek’s face. The other man’s pupils are already blown and his color is high in his cheeks. “Anything. I’ll give you anything you ask for.” Stiles says it in jest but the truth of the words rumble through him. His dragon would give anything for Derek, sacrifice whatever is asked, because the dragon wants one thing in the world and that is Derek Hale. 

Derek cups Stiles’s face and lays the softest of kisses on Stiles’s lips before leaning back and smirking, the smile at complete odds with the gentle touch. “I get to return the favor.”

Stiles grins. “I should warn you. I’m bossy in bed no matter where I am.”

Derek laughs and it’s an easy sound that Stiles marvels at. “I’d expect nothing less,” Derek says.

They grin like idiots and shuck the rest of their clothes. They stand in the middle of the room, naked and gleaming in the firelight, until they both reach for each other at the same time. They crash onto the bed, a tangle of legs, arms, and aching need.

Stiles wants to rush forward, but there are so many places on Derek to touch, to explore and neither of them seem in a hurry now that they’re here. Stiles flips Derek over on his back, kissing his way down, pinching Derek’s nipple as he goes. The last one earns him a light smack on the shoulder. Stiles kisses down Derek’s side. When he’s right above Derek’s hip bone, the other man twitches and sucks in air. Stiles does it again and this time Derek can’t hold back a laugh. 

Stiles looks up. “Someone has a ticklish spot.” Stiles runs his fingers lightly over the spot again.

Derek jerks away and swats at him. “You’re a tease.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started with you yet.” Stiles slides off the bed. “I almost forgot this.” He pulls the bottle of oil from his trousers and sets it on the table beside the bed. 

Derek jerks his hips up and Stiles takes the hint, grabbing Derek bobbing cock in his hand and running his thumb over the wet tip.

“You’re gorgeous.” Stiles doesn’t mean to say it, can hear his own heart in the words, but he doesn’t regret them.

Derek’s hands clutch the sheets of the bed and Stiles smiles while he lowers his head and takes Derek into his mouth. Stiles loves the feel of Derek in his mouth, the hard length hitting the back of his throat long before he’s taken it all in. Stiles applies himself to a slow rhythm, moving up and down. Derek puts his hands in Stiles’s hair and his fists tighten and release in time with Stiles’s movements. If Stiles isn’t careful, this is going to be over for both of them before he gets anywhere near being inside of Derek.

Stiles pauses his ministrations, popping off Derek’s cock with an obscenely wet noise. Derek whines high in his throat and his eyes flash red. Stiles chuckles and grabs the bottle next to the bed, coating three of his fingers before bending back to his task.

“You’re greedy. Good thing, I know exactly what you need.” Stiles slides his wet fingers over Derek’s hole and slips one of his long fingers in slow, keeping an eye on the way Derek’s eyes roll back and his chest heaves. 

Stiles takes his time opening up Derek, enjoys the way Derek’s body clenches around his fingers and the mewling sound Derek makes when Stiles adds a second finger to the first. 

Derek pushes down on Stiles’s fingers. “Another. Do it now.”

“Well, since you asked so nice.” Stiles adds the last finger and watches as he goes in and out of Derek’s body. Derek is trembling beneath him and Stiles places his palm over Derek’s quivering stomach. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Stiles pulls his fingers out and grabs the oil, dripping it all over himself, making a bit of a mess, but he doesn’t care. Derek wraps his own hand around his cock as he watches Stiles spread the oil on himself. 

“Ready?” Stiles asks.

“Please,” Derek’s voice is thready and breaks Stiles.

Stiles pushes into Derek, slow and steady aware that no matter the prep, this still stings. Derek gets impatient, wraps his legs around Stiles’s hips and pulls him down until Stiles bottoms out with a groan.

After that, there is no keeping either of them still. Stiles runs his left hand along the underside of Derek’s thigh and lifts Derek’s leg with a hand behind his knee. The angle is just right and Stiles knows when he hits Derek’s prostate because the other man’s body shakes beneath him. Stiles increases his pace, relentless as they both chase a shared pleasure. Stiles can feel the palm of his right hand heat up and has a moment of panic.

He curses. He should have expected this. His dragon has been so damn insistent where Derek is concerned. When a dragon takes a mate they mark them, brand them with the heat of the internal fire they carry. Each mark is different, resembling the shape of the dragon that gives it. It is meant to show relationship and love, but over the centuries had been used to identify the mates of dragons and kill them.

Stiles wishes with the core of everything he is that he could claim Derek and that Derek could see all of him, but he can’t. Derek would despise Stiles if he knew.

Stiles knows he’s close, and he takes Derek’s hand, careful to keep his palm from touching Derek, and wraps Derek’s fingers around his cock. Stiles clenches his fist and puts it beside Derek’s shoulder. Stiles looks down at them, they way they are moving together, then back up to Derek’s face, open and keening.

Stiles’s orgasm races through him a moment before Derek’s hand loses it’s rhythm and Derek’s come covers them both. Stiles rocks them through the aftershocks, leaning over Derek and kissing him gently. Stiles eases out of Derek, whose body chases Stiles, and Stiles lays on his side next to Derek, looking down at the other man and running his fingers down his arm.

“Thank you.” Stiles kisses Derek’s temple.

Derek turns his head and his hazel eyes look more blue than they ever have been. “No, thank you.”

Stiles gets out of bed and grabs a cloth from beside the ewer on a stand in the corner of the room. He looks at his right palm when his back is to Derek. It’s red, but nothing noticeable and Stiles sighs, wetting the cloth and going back to Derek. Stiles cleans them both up, their skin sensitive and aching in the best way.

Stiles takes the cloth back to the ewer stand and turns to look at Derek who’s pulled back the covers. Derek pats the side of the bed. “Stay with me.”

Stiles relaxes and the claw of fear he felt at Derek asking him to leave releases him. “I’d love to.”

Derek covers Stiles up and pulls Stiles’s back against his chest, burying his face in Stiles’s neck. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Goodnight, Derek.”

Derek wakes Stiles up four hours after they go to sleep and returns the favor, as promised. For a moment, Stiles wishes he didn’t heal as fast as he does. He wants to feel the soreness of having Derek inside him. 

In the morning, Stiles considers slinking out of the bed before Derek wakes up in case the werewolf wakes up with regrets. Stiles doesn’t think he can handle seeing regret in Derek’s face about the best night of sex Stiles has ever had. Derek is curled against Stiles’s side and Stiles knows he’s awake when Derek’s heart rate increases. Stiles feels Derek’s lips on his shoulder.

Stiles cards his fingers through Derek’s hair and waits to see what Derek will say.

Derek lifts his head and looks down at Stiles. “Good morning. I was hoping you wouldn’t sneak away before I woke up.”

Stiles bites his bottom lip. “I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up and kick me out of your bed.”

Derek’s hand tightens on Stiles’s hip. “Why would I do that?”

“Sometimes things look different in the light of day.” Stiles goes for blunt honesty.

Derek lifts himself onto his elbow and looks down on Stiles. “You look the same as you always do to me. Beautiful. I’m hoping this is not a one night thing, but something that continues. Regardless of your penchant to talk more than necessary, I enjoy your company, especially when you’re using your words to talk me into very dirty things.”

Stiles sighs. “It’s a gift, really. Still want to take me north with you?”

“Of course.” Derek closes the space between them and kisses Stiles.

Derek breaks the kiss too early for Stiles and he pouts. Derek laughs and Stiles can feel Derek’s body make the sound as it’s pressed against him. Hearing it was one thing, but this is something else entirely.

Derek slips a finger under the thick cord on his neck, fingering the pair of steel rings there. “What are these?”

No one has touched them since Stiles put them on when he was five years old. His mother, hands shaking and tears streaking her face, had flipped the rings onto the cord that she had spelled, and slipped it over his head. She had kissed him and told him to run. They are the most precious things in his hoard.

“They belonged to my parents.”

Derek lays the rings back on Stiles’s chest and covers them with his palm. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

Stiles covers Derek’s hand with his own. “I’m sorry about yours.” Stiles taps Derek’s hand with his finger. “We’re a sad pair.”

Derek lifts himself up to look directly into Stiles’s face. “Remembering the ones we loved is an important task. Grief is hard to carry, but it’s important to remember that we loved them and that they loved us.”

Stiles wants nothing more than to curl up with this man forever. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

Derek’s mouth moves up at the corners. “Don’t get used to it.”

Stiles kisses Derek, soft and slow, then pulls back and sighs. “I suppose I should get up and finish packing. I came over here before I’d gotten everything organized.”

Stiles crawls out of bed and Derek smacks him on the ass before he’s out of reach.

The entire family comes out to see them off after breakfast. Stiles hugs Scott for a long time. “I won’t be away forever,” Stiles says to him, though it’s a reminder for them both.

Scott nods and squeezes tighter. “I know, but this feels different. Be careful, Stiles, about everything.”

Stiles knows all the implications of those words and knows he’s already leapt over the jagged cliff that Scott is warning him about. “I will. I promise.”

Stiles makes the rounds, getting to Melissa last. She hugs him and kisses his cheek. “Be careful, kiddo. I love you. This will be your home whenever you need it to be.”

Stiles has to swallow all his feelings before he manages to say, “I love you too and thank you.”

Melissa looks at both Stiles and Derek. “Are you sure you both have what you need? Plenty of food? Water? Warm cloaks?”

Derek’s ears pink up and Stiles chuckles, knows how it feels to be mothered and that Derek’s enjoying the novelty of it after years of being without it. “We’ll be fine.”

“I know, but it’s my job to worry.” Melissa slides her hand down Stiles’s arm.

Derek hands Stiles the reins to his horse. “I’ll take good care of him, Mrs. McCall.”

Stiles elbows Derek. “We’ll take good care of each other.”

Melissa winks at them. “That’s the way.”

Stiles glances back once to see everyone waving, then looks at Derek, and finally the road ahead. There’s no telling where this is going to lead, but Stiles has a good feeling about it.