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Chapter Text

Claudia and Talia were friends, best friends really. Since high school, they were inseparable.

They used to joke that they understood each other’s weird. Talia was hyper-sensitive to noise and Claudia was easily overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the school. Claudia had insomnia and hated laying in bed just staring at the ceiling. Talia loved walking in the moonlight and always felt safest at night. Talia found routine helped manage feeling out of control and Claudia used routine to remember things she’d otherwise forget to do. Claudia was clumsy and could trip on nothing but Talia was always there to catch her or help her back up. Claudia always knew when Talia needed a break and what was causing it. It was all a game of body language.

Talia could always tell when Claudia had a crush and always seemed to know which guys weren’t worth the time. Claudia joked she was psychic since she always seemed to know who was cheating and when. Talia “joked” she could smell it on them and Claudia would chuckle. They just got each other. It just made them closer, always attached at the hip. They even made their boyfriends take them on double dates(not that anyone but Talia paid because she had generational wealth).

The first time Talia and Adam met, Claudia called that they were meant to be. She knew from the first time Adam looked at Talia that they’d be together and obnoxiously cute forever. Talia had just rolled her eyes and said how she’d never date a dumb jock. She quickly learned that Adam wasn’t a “dumb jock”, just a total nerd with a major crush.

Talia and Adam were good together. Talia was class president and he was the scariest-looking guy on the football team– until he was with Talia. When Adam was with Talia, he turned into a teddy bear.  When he gave Talia his letterman’s jacket, it practically swallowed her whole. It was funny to see the giant of a man melt into a puddle when Talia called him cute. The way Adam acted when Talia told him she loved him the first time was what sealed the deal in Claudia’s mind. They were just meant to be.

When Claudia sprained her ankle on one of their nightly walks, Talia carried her back. That night, she made a big decision. Talia gave up on her eternal secret so she wouldn’t have to see her friend to be in pain. 

Talia told Claudia everything so she could pull away the pain. She didn’t expect her friend to laugh and say she knew something was odd about her when they met.

Claudia shared a secret of her own that night. She joked it was a cheap carnival psychic trick her grandmother had taught her. While Talia helped pull away her pain, Claudia looked at Talia’s palms, pointing out lines in her hands that were supposed to mean things.

“So, this one says you’ll only get married once and you’ll have one… two… three… four… five… six kids,” Claudia said and Talia looked at her like she was crazy.

“No way,” she said, “Six is too many! I’ll have one, maybe two.”

“This says six,” Claudia explained, smiling.

“What else can you see other, than my future zoo,” Talia asked, leaning closed to try and see what Claudia did but nothing popped out at her. 

“Uh… Here. This line means you’ll have a good career and financial stability— like we didn’t know that,” Claudia joked. “And this one shows health… It looks like there’s a dip here,” she rubbed her finger over one of the creases. “Seems like mental more than physical.”

Talia shifted uncomfortably, trying to understand. “When,” she asked more meekly.

“Not for a while,” Claudia reassured her. “Don’t worry about it too much,” she squeezed Talia’s hand, “I’ll be there to help you through it.”

Talia smiled, hugging her friend. “I know you will be. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

When Talia finally let go of her, Claudia reassured her, “don’t take the reading too seriously. I’m still learning and it could just be an old wives tale anyway. I mean, look,” she held her own hand out and pointed to her own life line, “mine says I’ll only have one kid and you know I want at least five.”

Talia laughed, “and i’m sure you will have so much fun in your personal mad house!”

“Oh, hush! You know how jealous I am of your big family. All those aunts and uncles and cousins,” Claudia said, rolling her eyes. “Besides, my life line is also really short.” She hand her hand out and Talia help hers next to it.

“Huh, it is...”

“According to what my grandma told me, I won’t even make it to forty-five,” Claudia said, sure it eas entirely wrong. “I’m be the first in my family to die before sixty.”

“And you’re not allowed to die anyway, I need my best friend,” Talia said.

Claudia and Talia were sitting on Talia’s bed at her house. They were talking about the movies they were dying to see. There was a knock at the door and Talia held a finger to her lips, motioning to her ear. Claudia smiled and covered her own mouth.

“Ah, mister Webb, good evening,” Talia’s father said. “I don’t suppose those flowers are for me?”

“It’s Adam and he brought flowers,” Talia whispered, still listening in.

“Good evening Mr. Hale,” Adam said cheerfully. “I’m afraid not. I brought them for Talia but, if you don’t say anything, we can split the bouquet and you can give half to Mrs. Hale.”

Talia’s father chuckled. “No, no. I couldn’t possibly do that. I know Talia will enjoy them. Come in. I’m sure the girls will be down in a bit.”

“Well, would you look at what the wind swept in,” Peter said and Talia cringed.

“Oh god, Peter is talking to him. We need to hurry,” Talia said frantically, jumping up.

Claudia sighed, “the words ‘Peter’ and ‘talking’ in the same sentence never bodes well.” She followed after Talia as they scrambled down the stairs.

Talia shoved Peter off the bottom step of the stairs and smiled at Adam. Claudia held back a laugh as Peter glared up at his big sister. Adam looked bewildered but was quickly getting used to the Hale family’s antics.

“Oh my goodness, you remembered my favorite flowers. You’re so cute– I mean they’re so cute– the flowers,” Talia corrected but the words were already said and Adam’s face was quickly turning a fiery red. “Thank you,” Talia said, kissing Adam’s cheek just to knock it all home.

“I– y-ya… I, uh, just wanted to… You like… I… uh…” Adam couldn’t even finish a thought. “You— Claudia said…”

Claudia couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. “What I think Adam is saying,” she placed a reassuring hand on the blubbering mess of a boy’s arm, “is that red Chrysanthemums have a very special meaning outside of being your favorite. What do they mean Adam?”

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to pull himself together. “They mean I love you,” he whispered.

Talia turned a shade of red that matched Adam. “You said it,” she said happily. She closed the distance between them in record time and pulled him down by his shirt collar to kiss him. “I love you too,” she whispered and Adam looked at Talia like she was the most amazing this to ever exist. He was so wrapped up in her, he dropped the flowers.

Adam gave Claudia a thumbs up when he got his wits about him.

Claudia didn’t meet Noah until their senior year of high school. Noah had just transferred to Beacon Hills high school and was three years younger than Claudia. It was actually quite funny how they met. Noah had been talking to the person they assigned to show him around the school and bumped into Claudia. He both dropped everything he’d been holding. Talia had kept Claudia from falling. 

“Crap,” Noah sighed, looking at the floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, looking at Claudia. Talia had to hide her face against Claudia’s shoulder so she didn’t laugh. This little freshman boy looked at Claudia and instantly reeked of love.

“I’m fine,” Claudia told him, looking at him quizzically. Noah nodded and started to pick up his scattered belongings. “Let me help,” she said, squatting down to help him and, in classic Claudia fashion, began to fall.

Noah dropped everything he’d picked up to keep her from falling. He held onto her arm and helped her up. “Falling for me already,” he asked and Claudia looked at him in shock. He cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s okay. I can do it,” he backtracked. “Plus, you’re wearing that,” he looked her over and smiled awkwardly, “gorgeous dress. You wouldn’t want to get it dirty.”

“Okay,” Claudia said, looking him over like she couldn’t decide what she thought of this awkward boy. “Well, good luck then.”

Talia quickly pulled Claudia off, giving Noah a wide berth, giggling between themselves.

“I’m—” he looked from gathering his stuff to introduce himself but the two girls were already gone, “Noah… by the way,” he mumbled. Talia took pity on the poor boy and told Claudia what he’d said.

Claudia smiled at her friend and turned around, looking back down the hall. “Hey, Noah,” she called back to him and he looked at her, “I’m Claudia,” she said with a smile and started back on her way.

Talia watched her best friend slowly fall in love with Noah. And it was slow. Claudia couldn’t figure out what she thought of him at first but it seemed she found him amusing. 

Noah would wander over to their table at lunch to talk to her about random things and was somehow able to bring up how beautiful Claudia was at least once in every conversation. He also managed to make a fool out of himself everyday. Sometimes it was a stupid joke or spilling food on himself. Sometimes he made himself look ridiculous in ways he had no idea about.

“Hey, look, the most brilliant girl in school eats cafeteria food just like all us common folk,” Noah said, walking over to their table. 

“Hello, Noah,” Claudia said, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“What do you want, Stilinski,” Talia hummed.

“Hi Talia,” He awkwardly sat on the table looking at them. “Ya know, this town needs to take a chill pill. Like, this curfew is bogus! It’s like their scared werewolves attacking us,” he joked.

Claudia covered her mouth to stifle a laugh so as not to hurt his ego. Talia, not caring for his ego, laughed heartily at Noah.

“What did I say,” he asked, “what’s so funny?”

On one of their calls when they caught up about college life, Claudia admitted to Talia that she found that she missed Noah’s silly conversations and over-the-top compliments. Talia sighed but had to agree that Noah’s interruptions kept them on their toes.

The day Talia knew they’d end up together was when they were wandering around town, looking for something to do while home for the summer. A police officer walked over to them and gave them a smile. He tipped his hat to them and greeted them. It took a moment to realize it was not-so-little little Noah Stilinski. Claudia stopped walking and looked at Talia.

“Talia,” Claudia said in a whisper, “was that Noah Stilinski?”

“I do believe it was,” Talia chuckled. 

Claudia turned around, nearly twisting her ankle, and falling off the curb. She braced for impact but felt herself being caught. She started to say thank you and opened her eyes, finding herself looking at Noah.

“Falling for me again,” Noah asked with a big smile.

“I think so,” Claudia mumbled, not meaning for it to be said out loud. 

Apparently, Noah didn’t expect it either since it took a while for him to reboot and be able to respond. “Then why don’t we make it a date? How do you feel about sushi?”

Claudia tried not to laugh. The question brought back memories of high school and Noah’s random conversations. “I hate sushi.”

“Good. That might have been a dealbreaker. I hate sushi too. How about greasy burgers and shakes that we take to a drive-in movie?”

“That sounds perfect,” Claudia said. 

Noah gave her a big smile. “I’ll pick you up at seven on Saturday?”

Talia and Adam got married in 1987 to the surprise of no one. Adam took Talia’s last name without a second thought when she asked. Claudia was Talia’s maid of honor. After Talia danced with her father at the reception, the two had what Talia called a sisters’ dance. 

When Claudia and Noah were married in 1990, Talia was the maid of honor and Noah even asked Adam to be his best man. To offset the fact that Noah’s side was mostly empty, the Hale family spread themselves through the audience. Since neither Noah’s nor Claudia’s father was at the wedding– Noah’s father because he wasn’t invited and Claudia’s because he was in poor health– Talia’s father gave Claudia away. Talia surprised Claudia at her reception by bringing her friend’s father so they could have their father-daughter dance before he had to go back to the hospital. 

Talia and Claudia joked that they should have kids at the same time. The jokes continued when Talia announced her first pregnancy. Claudia had congratulated her, saying she wasn’t quite ready to be a mom but was more than happy to be an acting aunt. 

Laura was a carbon copy of Talia. She was also a werewolf. Claudia would watch Laura regularly and fell in love with the idea of having kids. She would hold and feed and play with Laura. Even the extra needs of a werewolf child didn’t deter her. As for Noah, he was whipped the second he saw Claudia holding a baby.

Talia told Claudia about her second pregnancy two years later. When Derek was born, he was a carbon copy of Adam. Claudia made a joke about how Talia’s body seemed to only act as a copying machine. Talia made a point to say that even if Derek looked like Adam, he was a werewolf like her. Claudia held Derek and smiled down at the little thing. She rubbed a finger over Derek’s face and laughed when he made a grumpy face at it.

Talia woke up to her phone ringing one night and Claudia was in tears on the other end. Noah was working the night shift to save up and Claudia couldn’t get a hold of him. Talia had to drive her best friend to the hospital, crying and bleeding and praying nothing was wrong. Of course, it was all wrong. 

Talia held Claudia until Noah could get to the hospital. She had to listen to Claudia as she processed the loss of yet another pregnancy. Claudia told her they’d been trying for a baby but… nothing stuck. She told her how the doctor had said her she might never be able to have a baby. Talia could only reassure her that she’d be there for her no matter what happened. 

When Claudia started fertility treatments, Talia was there to hold her hand. It was stressful and emotional and, at times, painful. Claudia would sit with Talia and hold Laura or Derek. The little ‘wolves were happy for the attention– Laura more so than Derek– and would fall asleep in Aunty Claudia’s arms.

They went to dinner one night. A nervous air surrounded the two couples. When Claudia slid an ultrasound across the table to Talia, she screamed joyfully. She practically toppled the table the hug her friend. When she sat back down, Talia returned the favor and handed Claudia an ultrasound picture. They deemed it fate. They found out the same week, were due the same month, and, finally, things seemed to fall together. 

Too well some might say. Those some being the future teachers of the babies.

On April eighth of 1995, when Noah brought Claudia into the hospital, they saw Talia and her husband right in front of them with four-year-old Laura and one-year-old Derek playing together quietly. Not two seconds later Noah got a text from Adam Hale asking if they could watch the kids because Talia was in labor. 

Cora Hale and Mieczysław Stilinski were born the same day only hours apart. From that day, they were rarely apart. Their mothers would fall back on each other and help when needed. It was rare for the two families to spend more than a week apart. 

The pair would often be left in the same crib for naps. They would hold onto each other and babble at each other. Most baby pictures were of both of them. Cora learned to crawl first but Stiles skipped that part all together and walked at ten months. When they started talking, it became clear they understood each other without words. If one knew a word but the other didn’t, they would translate. 

Stiles called Cora ‘Co’ and Cora called him ‘Miesh’. 

Stiles couldn’t say his name, only managing to say mischief. It caught on as his nickname and, with the way the two carried on, Cora was dubbed chaos not too long after. 

Cora was more assertive and direct with what she wanted and Stiles followed along, rambling on about how they could do this or this or that or… They were friends, yes, but they were also constantly butting heads. Both had very strong personalities and wanted things their way. 

They hardly called the kids by their real names so, they didn’t think about it when they started kindergarten. It was still a surprise when both Claudia and Talia were asked to come into the school to ‘clear something up’. They had to tell the kids that Mischief and Chaos were not appropriate nicknames for school. 

When it became clear the principal didn’t have a single clue how to say Stiles’s name, Claudia patiently tried to tell him but he didn’t bother to learn. He claimed it was too difficult and asked if there was a different nickname they could use. It was when five-year-old Cora corrected him that his attitude changed. It surprised the whole room. Claudia and Talia weren’t even sure when Cora learned to say Mieczysław but she sure as hell did it.

In the first grade, Cora and Stiles were put in separate classes at school and life was miserable. Cora refused to interact with the other kids and had been described as menacing more than once. She had trouble dealing with the overwhelming sensory input of the school without Stiles to help her through. Stiles couldn’t relax, always distracted without Cora to help him stay on track. He would frustrate the other kids when he couldn’t wait his turn to talk. His teacher had called him scattered and disruptive anytime she had to describe him. Which is what led to Stiles being diagnosed with ADHD and Cora with autism. 

Talia rolled her eyes whenever it was brought up. The school claimed all the Hale children were autistic because of ‘symptoms’ that could all be attributed to werewolf abilities: things like getting frequent sensory overloads, being quick to anger, and the repetitive phrases and actions used to teach control. Derek didn’t talk much and Laura didn’t smile often because when they got excited, they grew fangs even as small children. Peter’s daughter Malia was just that, Peter’s daughter, which was explanation enough for everyone else and Cora didn’t talk or smile because she was separated from her best friend who was all but her twin.

Stiles was correctly diagnosed bit only because his best coping mechanism was to rely on Cora and he didn’t have that.

All the same, it meant Stiles and Cora were put in the same room to receive extra help. When they saw how much better Stiles and Cora acted together, they put them back in the same class. When this change happened, it also put Cora and Stiles at a table with Scott McCall. It was the beginning of a beautiful (and chaotic) friendship and the end of all Beacon Hills Elementary teachers’ peace.

Stiles, Cora, and Scott would regularly have playdates and sleepovers. The three together were always getting into something– often to the end of annoying Laura or Derek or picking apart the last bits of their parents’ sanity. 

When Claudia got really sick, Stiles practically lived with the Hale family. With Noah working to pay the hospital bills and spending any time he could with his dying wife, Talia was his saving grace. Talia did what she could to comfort the two but it was harder with Stiles. Cora was a werewolf, the presence of her alpha was comforting on an instinctual level, but Stiles was human on every level. To him, she could only be Aunt Talia. 

It was hard, one of the hardest things Talia had ever done. She was losing her best friend and had to comfort her own child and her friend’s child. Adam tried to help but he could only do so much. He took care of Laura and Derek so the three could grieve.

Melissa McCall did what she could to help but she was a nurse and dealing with her alcoholic husband. She herself had eight-year-old Scott to care for and Raphael wasn’t much help. She would take Stiles and, sometimes, Cora when she could. Sometimes they would be with Noah but they were most often at the Hales’ house.

Most days were spent in piles of blankets and people mindlessly watching tv. Cora and Stiles would hold onto each other and share a mutual grief. As much as the Hales were a second family for Stiles, the Stilinskis were Cora’s second family. Both Talia and Claudia were ‘mom’. Both Adam and Noah were ‘dad’. Laura was only eleven and found herself holding two destitute seven-year-olds. Scott would curl up next to Stiles, trying to help. Derek was nine, he still had trouble understanding the concept of a loved one’s death, and yet Stiles and Cora were learning firsthand. They were losing someone so important far too young. 

Talia, Adam, Noah, and Melissa would sit in the kitchen at night with solum looks as they got the update on Claudia’s condition. Talia wanted to help pay for the medical bills but Noah was dead set on doing it himself. She was honestly surprised he was letting her watch Stiles for free.

Claudia died six months short of forty-three. Stiles was only nine. 

After Claudia died, Stiles didn’t want to be called Mischief anymore. That was what his mother called him. The only one who still called him by the nickname without being ignored was Cora and she only said it when they were planning something. Or when Stiles listed his ten-year plan to woo Lydia Martin. 

Stiles grew up knowing about werewolves so the ‘unusual’ behaviors were normal to him. He and Cora were constantly together. The physical affection of werewolves was normal, he even adopted some of the habits. He grew up accommodating werewolves heightened senses to the point it was second nature. He learned how to tell who people were by their footsteps, he thought most cologne or perfume was too strong, he kept the volume low and generally liked having subtitles on.

When they started high school, Beacon Hills went crazy. Freshman year some psycho who called himself the Demon Wolf rolled into town with his pack of alphas followed by a group of crazy ass hunters. They challenged Talia and one shit show led to another. By the time they’d chased the other pack out, there were four new teenage werewolves and two taken in from the alpha pack: Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, and Ethan and Aiden Steiner. Because of a near-death experience by the hand of Gerard Argent, Lydia figured out she was a banshee. 

When Ethan and Aiden told Talia what had happened to them, she couldn’t fathom letting a couple of children making their way in life alone. After a long discussion with Adam, they made the decision to have Adam and Aiden live with them. 

“Claudia told me once that we’d have six kids,” Talia sighed, “and I don’t particularly want to relive the baby stages. Maybe this is what she meant.”

Adam hugged Talia, keeping her close to hi. “Even so, that only makes five, unless you intend to count Stiles or Malia.”

Talia hummed, “I don’t think so but who knows what’s to come in the future.”

Oh, and their school’s lacrosse team was badass. How could they not be when almost half of their team was werewolves? With Scott, Cora, and Isaac in the starting lineup, they were golden. Talia gave many many many speeches about not using werewolf abilities in sports. None of them listened, except maybe Derek who played basketball and had no use for anything except the endurance and agility. 

Things happened and Stiles was always there. Stiles was there when Laura started high school and when Derek started high school three years later and he was definitely there when he and Cora started high school another year later. He was there Derek found out Paige had been attacked by another werewolf and saw Derek hide away from the guilt. He was there when Kate Argent started flirting with Derek and when she tried to attack the Hale pack. He saw the fallout of Peter making a deal with Gerard only to double-cross him. He was there for Laura’s graduation and Derek's state basketball game. He was there when the Hale pack learned Scott was dating Allison Argent. He was there when they met Allison, he saw the watchful and scrutinizing eyes on her. For all that Stiles was there, Cora was there for him. 

Their friend group grew together. Cora knew the second that Stiles looked at Lydia and no longer felt his childhood infatuation, even without the chemosignals. He still looked at her like she was god’s gift to Earth but it wasn’t the same. 

She also knew who had taken on those affections, even if he tried to ignore it. Cora couldn’t help but antagonize and be disturbed by it. Like, come on Stiles, her brother? The boy who didn’t tie his own shoes til he was eight? Who slept in Talia’s bed until he was ten? The moron who insists on watching The Notebook and cries when the entire time? The dumbass who– despite being a werewolf and actively playing in a game– you watched get his nose broken by a basketball hitting him in the face? The fucking dickhead who was walking backward to make fun of them and fell into the lake? Who was given a leather jacket for his sixteenth birthday and has refused to leave the house without it since? The idiot you saw almost bite his own thumb off eating an apple last week? The asshole who always changes the channel at the most important part? Him? Derek? Like, really?

Stiles never admitted he had feelings. He would brush it off with a “you’re right which is why I don’t like him,” and roll his eyes. 

Stiles, without his knowledge, had been dubbed the king of denial in the friend group. It didn’t matter how much they joked about it, Stiles did not have a crush on Derek Hale, okay? So what if he cheered loudly at his basketball game, he did that for all his friends. So what if he always left enough in the coffee pot for Derek in the mornings? Derek lived there and he didn’t. It was just polite, you should try it sometime Cora. And he only laughs at his jokes because nobody else does and it obviously upsets Derek and we absolutely do not need grumpy big bad sourwolf Derek at school. Speaking from experience, grumpy Derek had a penchant for growling and shoving people into walls. And no, no Stiles absolutely did not run to the bathroom after that. Why would he have done that?

They would argue about it frequently, which is actually why they had been stuck on fundraiser duty. Turns out Coach Finstock doesn’t take lightly to his players bickering during practice instead of listening to his directions.

Chapter Text

Cora trudged into her room followed by Scott and Stiles. She threw her bag on the floor and flopped onto her bed. Stiles snorted a laugh, putting his bag by the door. Seeing the chance, he walked over to the bed.

“I will bite your finger off,” Cora threatened uselessly, practically hearing what Stiles was thinking. “Stiles I swear to God—” Stiles flopped back, his back landing squarely on her stomach. She groaned, “I am gonna kill you.”

“Your mom would rip you a new one,” Stiles teased, but got up nonetheless and moved to the bean bag chair. Cora didn't bother sitting up, flipping Stiles off. 

Stiles flipped her off right back and pulled out his phone to play a game, turning the volume off to give Cora a moment’s reprieve from the loud-ass school. It didn’t take long to notice Cora and her family seemed to have more trouble with sensory overload than Scott or the others. Talia had explained once that born ‘wolves just tended to have more heightened senses than even the bitten ‘wolves. Stiles took the information to heart and made his own observations about the differences between the two. 

"Jee," Scott joked as he sat on the desk chair, "with all the brainstorming going on here, we'll have the fundraiser booth planned in no time at all," Scott smirked, looking between his two friends.

"Scott, do us all a favor and shut up," Cora sighed, rubbing her face and pressing the heel of her palms against her eyes. There was no bite to the words, she just sounded tired. "If Coach doesn't stop yelling in class, I might rip my own ears off."

Stiles put his phone down, rolling his eyes at Cora’s dramatics– he swears it’s a Hale family trait. "Ya, wouldn't be conspicuous at all when you magically heal in five seconds and grow your ears back in a day," Stiles said. "Nope, not at all. Especially not since Laura flashed her ‘wolf eyes and growled at that kid that slapped her ass and Derek totally didn't break his arm when that dude shoved him into the metal bench. And he was just in a bad mood on that one full moon. Say, Cora, haven’t you growled at someone too? Nope, no weird supernatural behavior from the Hale kids."

"If you don't shut up, I will throw something at you," Cora scoffed, her hand searching for something to fulfill that threat. 

“Fine, I won’t help you keep the secret. You’re doing so well on your—” Cora hit Stiles in the face with a pillow. He picked it up and smiled at her. “That was such a weak throw! Are you sure you’re a werewolf?” 

“Give it back, I’ll try again,” Cora said flatly and Stiles rolled his eyes, lobbing it back at her. 

Stiles reached for his bag, snagging it with the tips of his fingers, and managed to drag it over. He pulled his computer out and leaned back on the bean bag, trying to find the list of booths that had already been registered. “Well, the fundraiser night is on Valentine’s day. We could always try using Lydia’s idea,” Stiles offered, scrolling through the different club’s proposed ideas.

Cora made a gagging noise and sat up. “I would rather be part of a freakshow,” she declared and Stiles gave her a considering look. “We’re not doing a freakshow! And if we are, I think we should make Scott do it.”

“What? What did I do,” Scott whined.

"An Argent," Cora and Stiles declared at the same time. Cora gave him the patented Hale glare. 

"Now you must pay your penitence," Stiles added.

“We broke up,” Scott whined but knew he wasn’t arguing his way out of it. "I second Cora. No freakshow," Scott said. "What was Lydia’s idea?"

"A kissing booth," Stiles and Cora again said at the same time, though Cora's tone was dripping venom and disgust while Stiles was more neutral and a bit curious about the idea.

"That… might actually work," Scott sounded disturbed to admit it wasn't a horrible idea. "But how would we get people to help?"

"We could enlist Lydia," Stiles suggested.

"As if! She would never do it willingly and she's not on the team so we can't make her," Cora pointed out.

"No," Stiles groaned. "Cora, you're supposed to read my mind here,” he gestured between them. “You should know what I mean." 

Stiles glared at Cora and she returned the glare. She leaned forward, trying to figure out how Stiles’s brain was working. Stiles raised an eyebrow and Cora got an evil grin. Scott looked between the two, utterly confused.

"That could work," Cora said slowly, considering the idea. "She'll want something in return."

"Already prepared for that with contingencies," Stiles said with a sly smirk, and Scott looked between the two more frantically.

"I will not be one of your contingencies," Cora scoffed. 

"Come on Cora," Stiles pouted, trying his best– and completely useless– puppy dog eyes.

"Go to Hell," Cora scoffed but there was no heat to the words as she rolled her eyes.

“Already headed there. Monday morning, actually; aren’t you coming with me,” Stiles asked.

"What’s going on," Scott asked. Now his kicked-puppy look was almost deadly accurate. 

"Stiles wants to make me a sacrifice," Cora grumbled.

Stiles gave her a look calling her crazy and extremely dramatic. "Dude, it's a makeover," he said. "I'd do it!"

"Then you do it!"

"She wants you or I would!"

Cora narrowed her eyes at Stiles. "No."

"Fine. I have one contingency," Stiles said, slouching back in his chair. 

"You have a plan and a backup or just a plan," Scott asked, still very very lost. "What is Lydia doing anyway?" 

Stiles sighed. "We get Lydia to talk people into doing the booth and, in return, I give her the very expensive copy of Srinivasa Ramanujan's journal Peter found."

"Who," Scott asked.

"The guy is considered the king of math. Doesn't matter if you get it. The point is Lydia will," Cora explained, waving a hand dismissively. "More importantly," she turned to Stiles, "how are you getting that from Peter?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy ," Stiles teased and Cora raised an eyebrow at him. He leaned forward, giving her a devious grin. "Let’s just say I know things that Talia doesn't," he whispered just loud enough for the two 'wolves in the room to hear.

"Whatever you say, Mischief," Cora snorted a laugh. "Better be juicy if you're blackmailing Peter."

“Oh, it is, dear Chaos. My dad’s the sheriff,” Stiles said and held his arms out, “I know everything.” 

Scott shook his head, holding back his laughter. “You sound like a cartoon villain,” he joked. “So who are we going to trick into being a part of this disaster of a plan?”

“Well, considering the lacrosse team is mostly guys, it would probably be good to have at least one girl,” Stiles said innocently. Cora growled at him, knowing what he wanted. Innocent her ass. Stiles was a manipulative little shit. The only reason he wasn’t “convincing” her— aka coercion via blackmail— was because she had just as much dirt on him. 

“Ask Erica. She’d love all the attention,” Cora scoffed.

“Ope, the girls are fighting again,” Stiles said, shaking his head and looking at Scott.

“Erica’s dating someone,” Scott said as if it were obvious and it was Stiles’s turn to be confused.

“Who?”

Cora made a noise of indignation. “Do you ever listen to me?”

Stiles hummed, “not if I can avoid it, no.” Cora looked especially pissed at that one. “You know I’m joking. Don’t do that,” he said. She still ignored him. 

Stiles sighed, closing his laptop and setting it aside. He jumped onto the bed with her. When they stopped bouncing, he leaned his head back on her leg. He looked up at her, giving his best imitation of Scott’s sad puppy eyes.   

“You look like Bambi when you do that,” Cora huffed, flicking his forehead.

“Ow,” he huffed, rubbing his forehead. “And you claim I normally look like Red Riding Hood, which feels like a threat since wolves attacked both of them,” Stiles told her. “Do the booth and you won’t have to talk Erica into doing it.”

“Are you going to do it,” she asked and Stiles smirked.

“I couldn’t deny my adoring fans the chance to kiss me,” Stiles said dramatically and Cora snickered. “We’ll all do it, at least for a little while.”

“Hey,” Scott objected, “I never agreed to this.”

“We’d ask you to run the money box but you can’t count,” Cora said and Scott flushed.

“One time!”

“We were a hundred dollars short,” Stiles interjected. “Coach almost killed you for that one.”

Scott slumped in his chair. “Who else,” he asked, crossing his arms like a dejected child.

“If we can get Lydia to help recruit, we could safely secure at least Jackson. Scott can ask Isaac,” Cora and Stiles shared a look, “we can try to get Danny and Ethan.”

“If Ethan agrees, he might be able to talk Aiden into it,” Scott said.

“And don’t forget Greenburg. He’ll jump at the chance,” Cora added, mindlessly playing with Stiles’s hair.

Stiles made a face. “Isn’t he a super-senior? Twice over?” Cora shrugged and Scott hesitantly nodded. “That’s sounds like a felony… Hey, maybe he’s a vampire. Ya know, reliving high school over and over like some Twilight shit.”

Cora smirked and rolled her eyes. “He is not a vampire.”

Stiles sat up and looked at her. “You said he’s not. Does that mean— are vampires real?”

Cora opened her mouth to speak and stopped. She looked at the door and Scott did his head tilt thing he always did to listen to something far away. Cora chuckled and looked back at Stiles. “Mom says ‘they are if you ask Peter’ and uncle Peter is insulted by the idea he’s making it up.”

“Peter’s also scared of them,” Scott added and Cora agreed.

Stiles groaned, flopping back down on Cora’s lap. “I want to hear scaredy-cat Peter,” he whined. “Stupid werewolf hearing.”

Peter made a comment directed at Stiles but he went uninformed of it. They usually did ignore Peter, it usually worked pretty well considering he was largely unhelpful, and today was no different.

“Ya, it really sucks when you have siblings too. I know way more about Derek’s personal preferences than I ever wanted to,” Cora said, making a face of disgust.

Not five seconds later Derek was in her doorway, glaring at her. Stiles swore he saw Derek's eyes narrow at how Stiles was laying in Cora’s lap. Cora ran a hand through Stiles’s hair, making direct eye contact with Derek.

“Green doesn’t look good on you,” Cora said flatly, looking at Derek as if she were staring into his soul. Stiles looked at Derek and frowned. He wasn’t wearing green; besides, Derek looked good in green. It brings out his eyes.

Derek glared at Cora, obviously irritated. “Why are you mad that Erica has a boyfriend,” he fired back. “Two can play this game”

Cora smirked at Derek. “You want to go there? I can meet you,” she hummed. “You’re decent at hiding your facial expressions but you suck at hiding your emotions otherwise.”

“And I can beat you both,” Malia sighed, walking up and grabbing Derek’s shoulders firmly. “You both suck at hiding your diaries and you pour your souls out to aunt Talia. Loudly.”

“It’s a journal,” Derek corrected lamely.

“A diary by any other name would sound just as pathetic,” Malia stage whispered.

“Shut up, Derek,” Cora scoffed at her brother, turning her attention to their cousin. “Why are you going through my shit?”

Malia shrugged. “I was going to read your history notes and it was right there,” she gestured to the bookcase. “Speaking of, I need your Spanish notes,” she said, grabbing a notebook off the shelf and leaving.

Derek looked at Cora, glancing at Malia and then back to communicate his indignation. Cora waved a hand, shaking her head. Derek mumbled something irritably as he walked off and Cora rolled her eyes so hard Stiles thought they might stay that way. 

“So, kissing booth it is,” Scott asked.

Stiles sat down next to Lydia in Econ giving her a smirk. She didn’t even look up from examining her pristine nails and sighed. 

“Yes, Stiles,” she asked, sparing him a second’s glance.

“We need your help,” he said plainly.

“Obviously,” Lydia rolled her eyes and looked at Stiles. “What is it this time?”

Stiles pulled the gift-wrapped book out of his bag, setting it on the desk in front of him. “Convincing people to work the kissing booth,” he said.

Lydia eyed the book, debating on if she thought it was worth the time. “What’s that?”

Stiles hummed, placing his hands on the book and shrugging. “Just something Peter picked up while he was in India,” that caught her attention. “It’s a journal of some guy who solved supposedly unsolvable math problems or something.”

Lydia snatched the book from Stiles before he could stop her. “Srinivasa Ramanujan,” she asked him, holding the book like it was made of glass.

Stiles played stupid. “I think that was his name,” he nodded.

Lydia unwrapped the book, running her fingers over the cover. “Fine. I’ll help you,” she said, trying to act neutral but Stiles knew her too well for that. She pulled out her phone and sent off a few texts. It didn’t take long for her to get replies. “You have Jackson but Danny wants confirmation he won’t have to deal with girls fetishizing him and then he’ll talk.”

“Ya,” Stiles nodded, “totally. Male customers for him only. Done.”

Lydia went back to her phone. Five minutes later, she turned the screen off and set it on her desk without a word. Stiles waited for her to say something. She opened the book he had given her and started to read.

“Well,” Stiles said after far too long of silence. “Is Danny going to help?”

Lydia looked at him, seeming exasperated. “Please. When have I ever failed to get what I want?” She gave him a smile that seemed to prove her point.

Stiles slouched back in his chair and stared at the empty board. Lydia’s phone pinged. She looked at it, seemingly unconcerned. Stiles leaned forward, looking between her face and the phone. It pinged again. “Aren’t you going to text him back,” he asked and Lydia shook her head.

She left it until it buzzed twice more and then picked it up. She muted it and put the phone down.

“Come on, Lydia! You can’t leave me in the dark,” Stiles said.

“It’s called negotiating,” Lydia told him, not bothering to look up from her book.

“But you’re not saying anything!”

“Exactly,” Lydia said, looking at Stiles like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I make a request, he names his conditions and I say no to them, saying Finstock will just tell Danny he needs to help with the booth. Then he makes a different set of requests to avoid the worst case. I ignore him until he talks himself down to something we would be willing to fulfill.” 

“Oh,” Stiles relaxed. “But what if he just says no?”

Lydia looked to the side and then back to Stiles. “Were you not listening? He can’t say no or you have Finstock make him do it.” 

Stiles nodded. “See, I would do that except he’s not going to enforce it,” Stiles said under his breath. 

Lydia rolled her eyes. The bell rang and she smiled. “Watch and learn,” Lydia told him.  She looked at the door and waited for coach to walk through it. 

The door slammed open. “Alright, listen up,” Coach Finstock said, dropping a stack of papers on his desk. “I am only teaching this class because the teacher who was supposed to teach it had a psychotic break and is now at Eichen House. Now I don’t want any interruption—”

“Coach, what would you do if one of your players refused to help with the charity booth,” Lydia asked, putting on her ultra-sugar-sweet voice.

“Well, I—”

“The Scholar’s Bowl team has had a few members claiming they have other things to do that day and you’re really good at team management so, I was wondering, would you make them participate too,” she asked, batting her eyes like a child looking up at a person they trusted.

Coach scoffed and forced laughs, floundering under the false praise. “Of course, I would,” he declared with a self-righteous smirk.

Lydia nodded, glancing at Stiles. The look was fleeting and yet it said everything she wanted to, the largest of which was “I told you so” She looked back to coach with the same admiration. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. Please continue.”

“R-right,” Coach said, “where was I?”

“No inter—”

“No interruptions, Greenburg. For that, you’ll help with the charity booth all day,” Coach snapped. “This,” he picked up the stack of papers he’d put on the desk, “is your next and likely final assignment.” He walked around, giving stacks of papers to each person sitting at the front. 

“Wait, this is a comprehensive test over the textbook. We’re only in chapter four,” Allison said, looking at Coach. 

“Then you better get to reading, Agent—”

“Argent,” she corrected.

“Bless you,” Coach Finstock said and went back to his desk. 

Allison turned and looked at Lydia. Lydia shrugged and looked at the test in front of her. She started filling in and circling answers as easily as breathing. When she’d finished writing, she stood up and set it on coach’s desk.

“You don’t have to turn that in today,” he scoffed, looking at the paper like it was a joke.

“Oh, I finished it,” Lydia said and went back to her seat, ignoring the looks of her classmates. She looked at the time and then picked up her phone. She hummed and sent a text. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she put it away, opting for reading her new book. 

When the bell rang at the end of class, Lydia and Allison stood up and started talking as they walked to the lunch room. Stiles nearly fell over himself to follow her. He caught up with her in the hallway, squeezing past people to stay with her.

“Lydia! Lydia, what’d he say,” Stiles asked.

Lydia looked at Allison. “He’s known me for years and yet he still doubts me,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and hitting Stiles in the face with it. “Obviously, he said yes. I got Danny to agree on the terms he only has male customers and some antibiotic throat spray, just in case. But, if you want my opinion, you need Derek Hale. He’d raise some serious funds.”

“Thank you, Lydia,” Stiles said, clasping his hands together like a prayer. “You are God’s gift to Beacon Hills. God bless you. You’re a goddess among men!”

“Uh-oh,” Cora said, slinging an arm around Stiles’s neck. “Sounds like someone’s crush is coming back tenfold,” she teased. “And a ‘goddess among men’? Does that make all women goddesses?”

“Or demons, which is what you are,” Stiles scoffed, elbowing Cora.

“Ouch. That hurt almost as bad as the Hellfire I was born in,” Cora gasped in mock hurt, stopping at the back of the cafeteria line. 

Scott walked over to join Stiles and Cora at the back of the lunch line. “I take it Lydia met all expectations then,” he said. 

Cora shrugged, “didn’t doubt it for a minute.”

“You know Lydia can do anything,” Stiles scoffed, his eyes panning over the lunch room. “We officially have Danny, Jackson, and…” he stopped talking as his eyes followed a familiar leather-clad person walk out of the lunch room.

“And,” Scott asked, looking where Stiles was. “What? Watching Derek again?”

“Huh? No,” Stiles said far too quickly, looking back at his friends. 

“Dude, can you stop ogling my brother for five seconds and finish a thought?”

“What thought,” Stiles asked. “Oh! Jackson, Danny, and Greenburg.”

“See? I told you creep-burg would jump at the chance,” Cora said.

“Actually, Coach is making him for interrupting during class. Even though he didn’t actually interrupt because he was answering a question,” Stiles explained. “Anyway, Lydia also said we should convince Derek to help.”

“Ew, no,” Cora said, making a disgusted face. 

Scott looked like he was considering it. “Derek is objectively attractive,” he mumbled and Cora looked like they’d just killed someone. 

“No! Not just no, Hell no! I am not asking him,” Cora declared. “Plus, he’s on the basketball team! He would never help us.”

“Because of the very real Basketball-Lacrosse beef,” Stiles asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yes because our basketball team– which is actually pretty good– is treated like an ugly stepsister. They basically excommunicated the last guy who tried out for the team.”

“Who,” Scott asked. Cora gave him a look and he nodded. “That’s the point, got it.”

Cora rolled her eyes and looked at Stiles. “You can ask him if you feel so strongly about it but we’re not,” she told him, motioning between her and Scott.

“Whatever you say but I have a full month to convince you,” Stiles said with a shrug.

Chapter Text

Stiles, Cora, and Scott sat in the jeep, parked on a fairly secluded dirt road by the preserve. It was partly to argue about a matter the other Hales didn’t need to hear and partly because they wanted to see if the ‘wolves could get drunk off their attempt at wolfsbane whiskey.

“We are not asked Derek,” Cora declared, crossing her arms and leaning back in the passenger seat of the jeep.

“We have been arguing about this all week! Lydia said we need him and I trust her judgment,” Stiles argued. He looked to Scott for support and found none. Traitor. He looked back to Cora with little hope of winning. “Please, Cor! Ask him, please?” He grasped his hand like he was praying, begging her to even consider changing her mind.

“You can ask him your-damn-self,” she told Stiles with a scoff. “Scott had to ask Isaac, you can ask Derek.”

“That is not the same at all,” Stiles said stubbornly, even as a blush crept up his neck. “Scott had to ask because he has a thing for Isaac! I do not have a thing for Derek!”

Scott leaned forward from the backseat so he could look Stiles in the eyes. “You’re still on that," he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Do you still have a thing for Allison," Stiles asked in return.

“Oh my god! We know you’re lying, Stiles,” Cora huffed, glaring at the roof of the jeep like it had personally offended her. She was going to pull her fucking hair out if Stiles kept this shit up. “Would you just admit it so we can move on with our lives?”

“I’m not lying,” Stiles declared, grabbing his keys and getting out of the jeep. "I don’t have a thing for Derek and I never have!"

He grabbed his normal alcohol, which he had clearly labeled as such, and started walking. He cracked the seal and took a drink, almost tripping on an exposed root and spilling some of the whisky down his front. He groaned looking down at his red hoodie dejectedly. 

Cora rolled her eyes and looked at Scott. They had a silent conversation, cursing Stiles’s stubborn nature. 

Scott grabbed their homebrew wolfsbane whiskey and they got out of the jeep to follow Stiles and make sure he didn’t die tripping over a branch or worse. Knowing Stiles’s luck, he’d run into a deputy or a bear trap.

"You better not be dating my brother when this is all over," Cora said loudly and Stiles scoffed.

He turned, walking backwards to flip them off. "That should be easy since I don’t like your brother that way at all ," Stiles snorted before tripping over his own feet. He took it as a sign and turned back to walk off.

"Good, 'cause you already dated our cousin," Cora said plainly.

Scott snickered, “and date they did and the whole range of things that come with dating.” 

“That’s disgusting, McCall,” Cora sneered.

Stiles stopped and looked back at her with a smirk and said, "Malia initiated that shit." Cora faked a gag and Stiles laughed more.

"You're blaming Malia," Scott accused, laughing with him.

“I would have been fine,” Stiles declared, a smile covering his face at the sight of Cora’s scrunched expression. He took a drink, walking backwards in front of his friends, and continued to talk. "It's not my fault that every time she got irritated, she wanted to—"

"Shut up. Shut up! I don't want to hear that," Cora yelled, trying to drown out Stiles’s voice and he turned to walk on ahead. She turned to Scott. “There is something fundamentally wrong with him,” Cora said in disgust, taking the whiskey. 

“And yet, we’d be lost without him,” Scott added.

Cora sucked in a breath, nodding in admission. “There’s also something fundamentally wrong with us,” she said, taking a drink of the whiskey and grimacing. “That tastes like shit and fire.”

“Good to know it didn’t affect the flavor,” Scott mumbled, grabbing the bottle and taking a drink himself.

Cora and Scott caught up with Stiles easily. Good timing, too. Stiles was stumbled from an unseen branch and Scott grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t eat dirt. The two were still laughing at Cora’s expense. Stiles took the repeated stumbles as a sign to cap his bottle lest he spill any more. 

“There are supposed to be rules,” Cora sighed jokingly, flicking Stiles’s ear.

“You mean bros before hoes,” Stiles asked with a smile.

“Yes!”

“So you’re calling Derek a hoe,” Scott snickered.

“Yes! I mean no, but yes,” Cora grumbled. “That’s my point! you‘re not supposed to date your best friend’s family!”

“Aw man,” Stiles said in fake disappointment, throwing an arm over both Scott and Cora’s shoulders. “But Scott and Laura would be so cute ,” he said sarcastically.

“What,” Scott asked and Stiles couldn’t tell if he was trying not to laugh or gag– maybe a little bit of both.

“Come on, Cora! Don’t you want us as brothers-in-law,” Stiles teased. 

“God, you’re an ass! Why do I tolerate you,” Cora huffed in exasperation, pushing Stiles’s arm off her shoulder. “ This is why you are never allowed to date any of my family members,” Cora tacked on and Stiles laughed, flipping her off.

“What, you don’t want a McCall-Hale niece? Or a Stilinski-Hale one,” Stiles asked.

Scott laughed. “God, could you imagine? I think Coach would would quit!”

“I think half the school would quit,” Stiles threw back.

“And move away if they were smart,” Cora said, stealing the bottle back from Scott. “ I’d move. And I think your dad would step down from being sheriff.” 

They all found that funny. Poor sheriff had to drag them in a few times, they couldn’t imagine him doing it all over again willingly. 

“Maybe they wouldn’t be as much trouble since you and Derek would have to adopt,” Cora teased.

“I'm not into Derek. Say it again and I’ll find a way to get Laura and Lydia to go out! Ruin all of our private lives in one fell swoop,” Stiles declared, with a smirk.

“Laura would never,” Cora snorted, taking a sip of the god-awful whiskey. “How do people enjoy this?”

“Fine, I’m get Erica and Lydia together,” Stiles decided and Cora frowned, her mood souring instantly.

“You’re an ass,” Cora scoffed, walking off ahead of them. 

“Come on Cor,” Stiles joked. “I know you hate her but—Hey!” Scott grabbed the bottle from Stiles’s hands. 

“Dude, not cool,” Scott whispered and gave him a warning look.

“Fine. I’ll drop it,” Stiles sighed and the whiskey was returned.  

They caught up to Cora and walked on for a while, not talking. Rather, Cora and Scott passed their bottle back and forth. Neither of them liked the taste but they were fifteen and alcohol was alcohol. Stiles had started drinking again and, in a very Stiles manner, started rambling less than five minutes later.

“Our lives are fuckin’ wild! Like, what are the chances I grew up with werewolves and then my human best friend gets bit by some rando alpha,” Stiles asked, giggling the whole way through. “And then fuckin’– what else? Oh! Werecoyote,” he said, half a question. “Like, Malia and her mom– whoever the Hell that is…”

Cora chuckled at that one. “Oh, but they were young and it was Mexico ,” she said breathily, mocking Peter, the booze lessening her irritation. Scott spit out some of his whiskey laughing. “She was loud and feisty and gorgeous,” Cora added, leaning against a tree as she laughed.

“At least we know where Malia got it,” Stiles said and devolved into laughter with Cora. 

Scott coughed through his laughter. “Oh shit,” he coughed. “Fuck, that burns,” he rasped, making the other two laugh more. “I think I breathed it in."

"I hope the fuck not. I'll be too drunk to fix that here quick," Stiles huffed. 

Stiles and Cora’s laughing stopped as Scott coughed. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Scott stopped coughing, sucking in heavy breaths.

"Did you die," Stiles asked and Scott chuckled. "I'm not carrying your dead body out of here. You’ll walk."

Cora snorted, laughing all over again. She pushed off the tree and took the bottle from Scott and took a drink. "This shit works. Is this what humans deal with?"

"Pshhhh, no," Stiles scoffed, slightly unsteady on his feet. "You barely drank anything, you fuckin' lightweight! Girls," he joked.

Cora scoffed and shook the bottle at him. “This is a fifth, Stilinski, and it’s half gone,” she told him. “I’ve drank as much as you, maybe more since I’m sharing with Scott’s pussy ass.”

“I resent that,” Scott grumbled, walking over to stand with Cora and Stiles.

“Come on,” Cora said, starting to walk on, “Let’s keep going. The clearing’s close.”

They kept walking, mumbling their way through conversations about tv and school and anything else they thought of. Really, what did they have to talk about? They spent the better part of their waking lives together. They were finishing their sophomore year with the exact same summer plans as always. There were no Earth-shaking crises in their lives, no monumental changes. The biggest change since Scott was bitten was when Laura moved to LA for college.

They stumbled into the clearing and Stiles laid in the grass, looking up at the sky. Cora smiled, sitting with her back against a tree. Scott stayed close to Cora so they could keep passing the whiskey between them. 

“It’s already getting dark,” Stiles mumbled.

“It’s January,” Cora huffed.

“It’ll be February soon,” Stiles said, looking up at the stars.

Scott chuckled, “that’s how time works, buddy.”

“Yesterday was Tuesday but today is Tuesday too,” Cora said in her best Sam Winchester impression (it was not a good impression).

“Don’t quote supernatural at me,” Stiles rolled his eyes. 

He was well past a warm buzz as the light faded and the alcohol ran through his system, keeping him warm in the cool evening air. 

“We still need Derek to do the kissing booth," Stiles said, slightly slurred.

Cora took a drink and passed the bottle to Scott. "Why," Cora whined. She had been surprised that the alcohol had worked at first but was now thankful if they were going to have this conversation again. It was both pleasant and terrifying not to be able to sense every little detail of her environment. It was slightly unfortunate that even with the wolfsbane she could hardly get more than a buzz. 

"Ya,” Scott agreed, “we have Jackson, Isaac, Danny, Greenberg—"

"Nobody wants Greenberg, Danny's gay, Jackson is too much of an ass, and just because you think Isaac's hot, doesn't mean anyone does," Stiles said.

Cora made a considering hum before she said, "I don't know. I could get behind a little bit of Isaac." She giggled and Stiles giggled with her.

Stiles rolled his eyes when he could speak without devolving into a giggling fit. "Isaac’s cute, not hot. Derek is hot."

“Heeeey, he admitted it. He thinks Derek’s hot,” Scott snorted. He passed the bottle back to Cora and something caught is eye in the trees. 

Cora looked like she’d just swallowed a spoonful of nails. "God, never call my brother hot in my presence ever again," she said, trying to get past the huffed laughter. “That’s almost enough to lose my buzz.” She took a sip of the whiskey, the buzz making the taste slightly more tolerable.

Stiles hummed, taking another drink. “He is! It’s an objective fact,” Stiles said though his words were starting to slur. “You’re whole family is! Laura’s a fucking ten. You’d be too if people weren’t scared of you. Malia… We already know my thoughts on Malia and Derek is fucking hot. I think it’s the eyebrows,” Stiles said, trying to decide Derek’s best feature. “Maybe the muscles…”

Scott elbowed Cora, pointing to the tree line opposite them. Cora squinted and smiled at Scott. The was a very distinct outline and smell moving toward them through the trees. She shrugged and Scott gave a disbelieving laugh as Stiles rambled on.

“Definitely the jaw line… and the hair. We all know he’s hot! People stare and not just girls. And I know you hear them, too. You hear fucking everything,” Stiles declared. “Your brother is hot!”

Derek walked out of the tree line, his eyebrows practically in his hairline as leaves crunched under his feet. "Who has a hot brother," he asked, stifling a laugh and trying to stay serious.

Stiles sat up, his head whipping around to look at Derek. Oh, fuck… his stomach did not like that. "You are— I mean, you’re the hot brother,” Stiles said, the words falling out before he could think better. His eyes went wide and a blush covered his already rosy cheeks and, fuck, could he even be understood? “Not that I think you're hot. You are but—"

Cora groaned, rubbing her face. "Stiles, shut up," she chuckled, pulling up some grass and throwing it at Stiles.

Stiles looked down at the bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, his face flushed red from a mix of embarrassment and alcohol. "Doing that now…" he muttered, taking another drink and trying to ignore Derek’s eyes on him. 

"Derek,” Scott said, stepping in and taking the attention off Stiles, “will you help us with the kissing booth?" He tipped the bottle to take a drink. He barely got any in his mouth before having to catch Cora’s punch. 

“You were supposed to make Stiles ask,” she growled, taking the bottle from Scott and Derek’s eyes went to the bottle.

Derek hummed, the smell from the bottle Cora and Scott had been passing telling him all he needed to know. "Isn't that a Lacrosse thing," he asked, meeting his sister’s eyes.

Cora could already hear the rejection in his voice. She was actually happy but wouldn’t let it show. "Ya, so," she asked snarkily.

Derek’s eyes fell back to the bottle between the werewolves and then to Stiles. “So, no," he shrugged, trying to tell how much each of them had drank.

Stiles looked up at Derek, using what Cora called his ‘Bambi eyes’ and batting his eyes up at him. "Come on, Der . If you don't help, all we have is Jackson, Isaac, Danny, and us three. You know how that’s gonna go. People are gonna avoid us like the plague because of Jackson’s attitude and Cora’s death glare," Stiles complained, hardly intelligible.

Derek rolled his eyes, a short laugh making it past his guards. "With all the bisexuals you just listed, you could be an NSYNC song," he joked. Cora groaned at the horrible joke but Stiles laughed. Derek watched him and Cora made a gagging noise. Derek looked at his little sister. “Still not doing it.”

“Don’t be such a sour wolf,” Stiles said. If he had been sober, he would have seen the falter in Derek’s resolve. “Come on, stop being all doom and gloom. All that frowning and scowling at us is going to give you wrinkles… Even if it does look kinda good on you.”

“Stiles, shut the fuck up,” Cora told him and Stiles flipped her off.

“I’m not doing your stupid lacrosse thing,” Derek said firmly, pulling his jacket tighter around him. He seemed to be considering if he should say more or just leave. “Don’t drive until you’re sober…” Derek said, looking down at the very drunk human in the bunch. “Text me if it gets fully dark before that happens,” he said, clearing his throat and turning to walk away.

“You won’t tell mom, right,” Cora yelled after him. His shoulders pulled up tight at her volume. Drunk werewolf equals less sensitive hearing, got it. Stiles didn’t mentally note shit if he noticed at all. Guess a missing bit of info or two couldn’t hurt, right?

Derek paused, thinking it over. He turned around and walked back. “You promise none of you will drive drunk,” he asked, his eyes stopping on each of the three of them. He looked like the perfect image of the worried big brother. And, wow, his eyes. How had Stiles never appreciated those eyes before?

“I’m not stupid,” Cora scoffed, but it didn’t satisfy Derek. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yes and I’ll call you if it gets too dark. Happy?”

“Then I won’t tell mom,” Derek said, shrugging.

Cora found that hard to believe. “Or dad,” she asked, leaning forward.

“Or dad,” Derek agreed far too easily.

“That’s it? That’s all you want,” Cora asked, raising an eyebrow.

Derek sighed. “Be careful. No Mischief or Chaos tonight, okay?” It was less a question and more of a plea. 

Cora looked at Stiles. He took a second to look at Cora, having to pull his eyes away from Derek’s nervous form. It only took a second to decide. “Do you want to stay, Der,” Cora asked, even drunk she could smell how worried he was. “Ya know, make sure we don’t do anything stupid?”

“I think I’m good. Make good choices,” Derek told them and started off again.

Cora watched him go, focusing on trying to track him. It didn’t take super hearing to hear his old beater of a car rev as he got up to speed on the road.

“That… was weird, right,” Scott asked.

“Oh ya. Totally, completely weird,” Stiles huffed. “Like, extra supernatural weird. Like, possessed weird.”

Cora sighed, shaking her head. “What’s got him spooked? He acted like we were going to die,” she mumbled. Derek was the usual protective big brother but normally it came out teasing her for thinking about doing something stupid or offering to scare the shit out of people for her. This was different. He seemed scared. “My buzz is already fading,” she groaned, picking up the bottle she and Scott had been sharing and dank some more.

They joked about the prospect of Derek being possessed. Cora declared it the most boring ghost ever, probably someone’s grandpa back from the grave. Scott said it was an old cop’s ghost but Stiles argued even most cops could let go and have fun. Or were alcoholics, Scott added bitterly. 

Stiles scoffed, remembering Scott’s dad, and picked up his phone to check the time. He frowned at the screen. “Can you guys check your phones? My dad was trying to call me,” Stiles said, unlocking his phone. He had missed texts and calls from Sheriff.

Cora hummed, “weird, my mom and dad were too.” She scrolled through her notifications and opened a text from her dad.

“Same here,” Scott said. 

The two ‘wolves looked at Stiles and watched him go pale. “Uh… so,” his voice was hoarse like he was fighting tears. “There was a crash on the highway. The description came in saying a blue jeep was involved…”

“Shit,” Cora muttered. “Is everyone okay?” 

Stiles shook his head and handed her the phone. 

“Three teens involved…” she looked at Scott, worry clear in her expression. “One died,” she finished. “Our parents— they must have thought,” Cora looked at Stiles and then back to Scott.

They were quiet as the news settled in. Their parents were probably going crazy. Something clicked in Scott’s mind and he looked at Cora.

“Do you think Derek knew,” Scott asked and Cora’s eyes widened.

“Shit, he was probably freaking out,” she sighed. “That’s why he was so weird. He thought…” 

Cora looked at Stiles. She could practically see him overthinking it all. She grabbed Stiles’s shirt and dragged him over, wedging him into the small space between her and Scott. She leaned her head on him and sighed. Scott moved closer, throwing his arm around Stiles and Cora. Stiles’s head laid on Cora’s and Scott leaned his head on Stiles too. It was warm and safe, the three of them pressed together. They were always safe when they were together. 

But Stiles, no matter how cozy, couldn’t stop his mind from racing. What were their parents thinking? Were they still scared? Would Derek tell them the three were okay? Would it get through the grapevine to Melissa? Surely Sheriff had told them by now. What had run through his dad’s head? Was he scared he’d be alone, that Stiles was gone too? 

“Can we go,” Stiles asked, still heavily feeling the alcohol’s effects even if the peace was gone. Not even alcohol could stop his brain. “Are you sober? We’d be more comfortable on the couch at my house. Fuck, I just wanna go home ‘n die on the couch… or my bed.” 

“We could call Derek,” Scott suggested. 

That’s what they did. The three of them made their way back to the jeep. Cora and Scott were half-carrying Stiles as he stumbled over anything bigger than a leaf. and waited for Derek. 

What they didn’t expect was for Laura’s camaro to whip onto the gravel road and stop behind the jeep. She jumped out of the car and hurried to hug each of them, holding their face in her hands just long enough to be sure they were okay. 

“Fuck, could you assholes answer your phones? We thought you were dying on the side of the highway,” she lectured. She was just like Talia that way. “Don’t you know that you’re supposed to tell someone when you plan to go hiking? You could have gotten hurt out in the woods and—”

“And one of us would scream or roar and you’d find us in under an hour,” Cora said, challenging whatever was supposed to come next.

Laura glared at her little sister, catching the smell of alcohol on Cora’s breath. “Did you steal mom’s booze? Are you drunk,” she asked, looking at Derek who had gotten out of the car not long after her. 

“We didn’t steal shit! Stiles made it,” Cora objected and Laura’s eyes went wide.

“You could have fucking died if there was too much wolfsbane,” Laura told them. 

Cora scoffed. “Oh please, it wasn’t even close to being that strong,” she told her. “I can barely feel it anymore. Stiles, however…” She looked back at Stiles who was using the jeep to stay standing. “I’m fine, Laur.”

“Stop being like me,” Laura chided. “I did the same thing with some of my friends and we had to be rushed to Deaton’s. I have half a mind to take you two there,” she declared.

Cora frowned and grabbed onto Stiles’s arm, pulling him into her side. “We’re going to Stiles’s house. Together,” she said firmly.

“Then Derek can drive the jeep,” Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Just call mom. She wants proof of life,” she looked at Stiles, “Maybe don’t put him on the phone,” she added and got back into her car. 

She paused, just watching them talk and breathe and hearing their heartbeats. Laura sighed, wanting to lay her head on the wheel from the exhaustion of thinking they’d been hurt. She’d driven back from college to help look for them only to hear Derek had found them. She shook her head, deciding to sleep at home before heading back to school the next day. 

They called Talia, putting it on speaker so she could hear they were all okay. When she was sure, they got another lecture about going hiking without telling people. Stiles looked at Derek and smiled softly. Guess he covered for them.

Derek was driving them back in the jeep, which meant Stiles had to walk him through Roscoe’s, shall we say, intricacies. 

“God damn jeep,” Derek grumbled.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles stopped him. “She won’t run if you’re rude and insulting. You have to be nice. She’s a good jeep and I’m gonna keep her forever,” he said, rambling on in his fairly drunk state.

Derek looked at Stiles like he was insane. “It’s a car.”

“It’s Roscoe,” Stiles corrected, “and if she doesn’t like you, I don’t like you,” Stiles told him. “She has always done right by me.”

Derek growled and Stiles leaned back. Did he really want grumpy Derek driving? Not really but he also didn’t feel like getting a DUI or dying because his father would kill him. Derek took a deep breath and turned the key. To his surprise, Roscoe started the second he was calm.

“This jeep is perfect for you,” Derek told Stiles, disbelief heavy in his voice. “Just as ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to put the jeep in reverse and let off the clutch too fast. Roscoe died. Stiles just laughed. Derek looked so annoyed. 

“Please tell me you have driven stick before or I’m calling Laura,” Stiles said through nervous laughter. 

Derek glared at him and started the jeep again. This time he let up on the clutch slower, listening to the engine more carefully. He was not killing this stupid thing again. Well, he didn’t kill it but it was a very VERY jerky ride. Stiles had to roll the window down, he felt like he was going to throw up.

When he parked in the Stilinki's driveway, Cora practically jumped out. "Holy shit, I'm going to throw up! That was awful, Der," she said. "Isn't your car a stick shift?"

"It's this stupid jeep," Derek yelled, getting out of the jeep and slamming the door and it popped open again. "This thing is a death trap," he huffed, closing the door more gently.

"Dude, it's not even that bad when Scott drives and Scott’s a terrible driver," Stiles said, snatching his keys from Derek.

"Me," Derek yelled in disbelief. "It's not my fault that this thing doesn't want to shift when it should!" To be fair, it wasn’t entirely Derek’s fault. Sometimes Roscoe wanted to shift every ten mph and others she wouldn’t shift into second until twenty-five. 

"I told you, after the engine sound changes, you still have to give her a second before you shift. She's picky," Stiles shrugged, leaning on Scott’s shoulder and hoping the world would stop spinning.

“And the brakes?”

“There’s a couple of air bubbles,” Stiles waved him off, “you just have to be ready for it.”

Derek shook his head, glaring at the jeep. “I can’t believe mom lets you three take that to school.”

“As if your little beater is any better,” Cora scoffed.

“I’m fixing it! Plus, it has yet to break down while I’m driving, unlike that jeep,” Derek told her.

“Ya, but it can’t die while driving if it won’t start,” Cora scoffed. 

Scott looked at her and then at Derek. “Is that why Laura drove you?”

“No,” Derek said, looking at his shoes with a red face. “We did that so I could drive you here.”

Cora gave Stiles an evil smirk. Stiles shared her understanding. “Really? Because you don’t sound so sure,” Cora joked, wrapping an arm around Stiles. She gave Derek an innocent look when he glared at her, knowing exactly what she was doing. “Why don’t you stay and hang out? Maybe we can convince you to do the kissing booth.”

Stiles nodded, looking at Derek and there were the murder eyebrows. “Come on Sourwolf. We’ll even get you food for being our savior tonight,” Stiles joked, leading the group inside. Cora and Scott didn’t question it and went in, getting comfortable on the couch. Stiles looked at Derek, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Scared of spending time with your dorky little sister and her friends? Or is it the lacrosse-basketball ‘ beef’ ?”

Derek rolled his eyes and walked into the house. 

Stiles closed the door, announcing “everyone, be on your best behavior. Big Brother’s staying.” He laughed at himself and walked past Derek. He wiggled his eyebrows at Derek and smirking at the look Derek gave him. “I’m gonna shower.”

Scott got up and made sure Stiles didn’t fall down the stairs and relaxed when the shower turned on. 

“So Der-bear,” Cora said, faking innocence, “you got a thing for my best friend?”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat in the armchair next to the couch. “Definitely don’t have a thing for Scott,” he said, pulling out his phone to help him play neutral. 

“Not Scott, dick weasel,” Cora rolled her eyes. “I mean Stiles.”

Derek didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. He stank of embarrassment and the very specific sugar-sweet smell of a crush. The smell of Stiles’s soap drifted down the stairs and Derek swallowed, trying to ignore it. 

“Jesus, get it together, dude,” Cora snickered. She shook her head and looked at Scott. “He makes fun of us for being useless and yet, here’s Derek, the entirely stereotypical unless bisexual.”

“Why is he useless,” Scott asked, the joke apparently soaring over his head.

“Scott, my dearest idiot,” Cora said as if talking to a child, “he’s a werewolf! Unless he has serious congestion, he should be able to smell that Stiles is basically in love with him and yet he does nothing!”

Scott cringed and looked at Derek. “That’s pretty bad, dude,” he mumbled.

Derek huffed a laugh. “You’re one to talk. Both of you,” Derek grumbled, still looking at his phone. 

All three werewolves looked towards the stairs when the shower turned off. The smell of soap got stronger, meaning Stiles had opened the bathroom door.

“Hurry up, dude, before Cora goes full interrogation mode on Derek,” Scott called and they could hear Stiles laughing.

Stiles came down the stairs in his pajamas, still noticeably stumbling, and jumped over– more like he tumbled over– the back of the couch and sat between Cora and Scott. 

“What are we interrogation Derek about,” Stiles asked playfully.

“If his nose is broken,” Cora told him with a roll of her eyes.

The four teens settled in for whatever movie they could find on tv. When it ended, they made an act of going through Stiles’s movie collection to find the next choice. An unsettling silence met Derek before the younger teens came back into the living room snickering. 

The title card popped up, reading ‘The Notebook’, and Derek glared at them. “I hate all of you,” he grumbled.

"We'll watch something else if you agree to do the kissing booth," Stiles said, earning only an eye roll as Derek slumped into the chair. "Stubborn," Stiles mumbled.

They took pity on Derek and didn’t put on any more sad movies. They settled on reruns of FRIENDS. By the third episode, Scott was turned to put his back on the arm of the couch. Cora was laying with her head on his stomach. Stiles was lying on her, watching the tv as he drifted to sleep as Cora played with his hair. Episodes came and went as they blankly watched, not really paying attention. They were left in comfortable silence.

Then the smell got on Scott’s nerves. It was bitter and strong and almost burned his nose. Scott looked at Derek and then at Stiles. His face slowly changed from confusion to surprise and back to confusion. He leaned forward and whispered so only Cora could hear him. “Is he jealous,” he asked Cora and she hummed in the affirmative. 

“He stinks of it when anyone touches Stiles,” Cora told Scott. “It’s pathetic, really.”

“He does realize you’re just friends,” Scott asked.

“He better,” Cora grumbled, sending a brief glare at her brother. 

She stopped playing with Stiles’s hair and looked toward the door. Noah was home. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to. The front door opened and shut loudly. 

Stiles’s breath caught in his throat, the noise startling him awake. He leaned up slightly, eyes hardly open. “Hi dad,” Stiles said sleepily.

Noah walked into the living room and leaned over the couch, resting a hand on Stiles’s back. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, kid,” he said. 

He looked exhausted like he’d been through Hell. In a way, he had. A fatal accident is never a good way to end a shift, especially not when the description that’s called in is close to your son's car and said son isn't answering his phone. And, as sheriff, he was in charge of notifying families. 

Noah hardly cared that more teens than lived there were in the room, he stopped questioning it years ago. “What are you lot doing up at? It’s one in the morning,” Sheriff sighed. When he looked around, finally taking his attention off Stiles, he saw the usual suspects taking up his couch but was surprised to see Derek. 

Anymore, Derek only came by when his whole family stopped for dinner or he was forced by his mom. It had only started in the last year or two. Noah didn't get it, didn't know what happened, but figured it was just a teenage boy thing.

“We’re watching tv,” Cora shrugged. “Must have lost track of time.”

"Well, would you look at what the cat dragged in," Noah joked, looking at Derek with a tired smile.

"Actually, the human dragged him in," Cora teased her brother, an evil glint in her eyes as she looked at him.

Sheriff nodded and started toward the kitchen. He paused for a second next to the armchair the oldest of the teens had landed in. “Thanks for finding them, Derek,” Noah said, patting Derek on the shoulder. Well, that confirmed their theory; Derek had come looking for them because their parents were worried.

“Yes Sheriff,” Derek said quickly and Cora huffed a laugh.

Noah nodded, looking at Cora like a disruptive child. “As much as I appreciate it, I changed your diapers. Call me Noah,” he looked at Cora and then Stiles, “or you can call me dad like your sister does,” Noah told him and went along his way to the kitchen.

Derek turned red looking at the floor. Cora smiled, rather enjoying her brother's discomfort. He looked up just enough to glare at her.

“Are we ordering dinner,” Stiles asked, completely ignoring the staring match going on.

Cora looked to the kitchen, hearing Noah open the drawer with the takeout menus. “Oh, can we get Chinese,” Cora asked, raising her voice so Sheriff could hear her.

“Is that okay with everyone else? Derek,” Noah said, not quite loud enough for Stiles to hear but plenty so for the 'wolves.

“He’s fine with it,” Cora said before Derek could. “Thank you, dad. You’re awesome!”

“You twisted my arm," Noah said with a smile, walking back to give the menu for their favorite twenty-four-hour Chinese place to Derek. "How could I say no,” Noah joked and Cora gave him a big smile.

"He's a sucker for our big brown eyes," Stiles mumbled, remembering times that he, Cora, and Scott had combined their big brown puppy dog eyes for evil. "Sorry, Derek. You and your green eyes can't be part of our club."

"Wait, we have a club now," Scott asked, confused as always.

The following minutes were filled with Cora and Stiles bickering about whether their "club" was for brown eyes or brown eyes and brown hair. It was to the point that they both sat up. In the end, they decided that it wasn’t either because, no matter which they chose, they have to include Malia and Allison. Bringing up Allison brought up the fact that her having brown eyes was weird because both her parents have blue eyes and there’s only a one percent chance of that. Which is when Scott got involved to defend Allison. Derek rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. 

“Alright, shut it,” Noah grumbled, tossing a notepad at Stiles. It would have hit him in the back of the head had Derek not snatched it out of the air. He looked at the notepad that had Noah’s order on it. Derek looked at Sheriff. “Write down your orders. Stiles, you can go get food tonight.”

Stiles froze, sending a look to Cora. She frowned, shaking her head and nodding back at Scott. Stiles rolled his eyes and turned to look at Derek. “What do ya say, Sourwolf? Want to go with me to get food,” he asked, his eyes begging Derek to say yes.

It was hardly fair. Come on, how was Derek supposed to say no? He knew Stiles was asking him for help. Not only did Stiles have anxiety about doing things alone– that tends to happen when your best friend is by your side twenty-four/seven– but he’d been drinking earlier. It didn’t matter how much or how little, it was the one rule Stiles didn’t break. The night his mother died, it was a car accident that stopped Noah from making it to the hospital. A pile-up caused by a drunk driver was the reason Noah didn’t see his wife’s last few moments and why Stiles had been all alone to watch his mother die. 

Then he made those big doe eyes and Derek was screwed. "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope," Stiles whispered, trying to look sad as he devolved in laughter. There it was. The sad facade broke, showing the annoying manipulative fanboy behind it.

“Fine,” Derek sighed.

“Sweet,” Stiles smirked, turning to look at Cora and Scott. “You two want the usual?”

“Beef and broccoli with egg rolls,” Scott said happily.

“Dude, I know your usual. I was just asking if that’s what you want,” Stiles said, standing up.

“Oh, then yes,” Scott said.

“Me too. Just the usual,” Cora told him, giving Derek the side eye. Oh, how she wished to be a fly on the wall in the jeep instead of staying here to make sure Scott didn’t run his big mouth. She’d just have to tell Laura so they could both tease Derek about it.

“Cool, cool,” Stiles said, taking the notepad from Derek and scribbling down their orders. 

He didn’t even tell Derek they were leaving, he just started walking to the door. Derek watched Stiles walk away but didn’t get up. Stiles looked into the living room at Derek. “Come on, Fido. Let’s go bye-bye,” Stiles joked, waiting for Derek. When he got up Stiles smirked. “Oh, good boy. Such a good pup,” he cooed at Derek.

Cora died laughing. If she’d been drinking something, she would’ve spit it out. She was laughing so hard she wasn’t making any noise. Derek was beat-red, keeping his eyes on the floor. Stiles knew. He grew up with them for fuck’s sake. He knew very well that their mother called them ‘pup’ as a term of endearment. He also knew that Derek accepting paise was like mixing oil and water. The dog jokes? Those were for his own personal entertainment.

Chapter Text

Derek was driving the jeep. Stiles– in his best effort to save his transmission– was telling him when to shift gears and chiding him when he did so too early. Then Stiles started up about the kissing booth. Derek was five seconds away from pulling over and making them both walk. It was a minor miracle they made it to the restaurant without a homicide. Sheriff would have thrown Derek under the jail if he killed Stiles, at least figuratively; literally, he would have been thrown under Eichen House. But they made it! That’s the important part.

Derek got out of the jeep sluggishly, following behind Stiles. He hated restaurants. They were always loud and smelly and uncomfortable. From the second the door opened, he knew it would be hell. He didn’t even pretend like it wasn’t going to be awful. The second they were inside, Derek made a bee-line for the farthest and quietest corner in the place. 

Stiles didn’t give it a second thought when Derek awkwardly tucked into a corner as far from other people as possible while Stiles ordered food. He knew from experience with Cora and Scott that this place kinda sucked sensory-wise but the food was a god send. 

Derek did notice Stiles ordered chicken and broccoli for Sheriff when Noah had specifically written down sesame chicken. He could tell Stiles was joking with the cashier as he paid but he couldn’t focus on the words with all the other noise. It felt like someone had a death grip on Derek’s heart to watch the cashier flirt with Stiles. 

“Didn’t you order the wrong thing for your dad,” Derek asked when Stiles walked over.

“Huh? No,” he said with a smirk. “I’m just making a healthier choice for him. We have fifteen minutes.”

Derek didn’t say anything more about it. He tried not to say anything else, really. He tried to focus on something else but everything seemed to be competing for his attention. The door squeaked, the bell chimed as people came in and out, the cash register clacked loudly, people talked on the phone, forks scrapped ceramic plates, the ice maker clunked and clanged, cooks talked loudly in the kitchen, pans banged together, and even the lights buzzed. God, Derek hated restaurants. He ducked his head, his shoulders hiking up, trying to use his jacket to drown out some of the noise.

Stiles held a pair of earbuds in front of Derek’s face, offering them to him. He looked at Stiles but he didn’t say anything. Derek took them. He put them in his ears and all noise was reduced to a manageable hum. 

“Better,” Stiles asked, not raising his voice. He knew Derek would still hear him. Derek nodded, starting to relax. “Cora likes them.”

“Why didn’t Cora drive,” Derek asked, trying to keep his voice low. Stiles gave him a look and Derek repeated himself slightly louder.

“Scott,” Stiles said blandly with an amused smirk.

“What about him?”

“He’d accidentally rat us out,” Stiles sighed, pulling his red hoodie tighter around himself. “Ya know, taking my dad’s alcohol, infusing a bottle with wolfsbane so Cor and Scottie could get drunk, walking around the forest drunk, more things I can’t think of right now… We’d all be grounded and you’d probably get a good lecture for lying for us at the very least.”

“I didn’t,” Derek shrugged and Stiles looked at him with wide eyes. “You went on a hike into the woods. I just didn’t say the point of the hike," he said resolutely and Stiles nodded slowly. "I quite literally can’t lie to my mom. Heartbeats, remember?”

"That's gotta be rough," Stiles shook his head. "Like, zero privacy too. No surprises or secrets. Nothing."

"It's not that bad," Derek mumbled. "I don't have anything to lie about, anyway. And mom doesn't push on every secret." He shrugged, looking around the restaurant.

Stiles laughed. "Do you mean to tell me that Derek Hale– widely considered one of the hottest guys in school– doesn't go to parties?" That got Derek’s attention back on Stiles.

He blankly looked at Stiles, trying to think of an answer. It was easier said than done, especially when Stiles was looking at him as if every little movement was part of the answer. "I go to study groups…"

"That turn into hookups or orgies, right," Stiles asked and Derek couldn't tell for sure if he was joking or not.

"No. That turns into dinner and driving my friends home," Derek told him, giving Stiles an incredulous look.

"Cause they're drunk."

Derek tilted his head, not denying or confirming. "Sometimes," he finally decided to say.

"But you've never been drunk," Stiles said like it was just a fact. From the way Derek’s brow furrowed, it wasn’t entirely true. "So you do break the rules! When?"

"I… I don't know if I was really drunk or what happened exactly… I think I was," he mumbled, trying to sort through what few memories of it he had. Derek looked Stiles in the eye, he looked lost and hurt. "Do you remember," he took a deep breath, " all the stuff with Kate Argent?"

"Ya, wasn’t she, like, twenty-something and a psychotic bitch," Stiles shrugged.

"Ya," Derek nodded. "Something like that." He looked around the restaurant, shifting uncomfortably at the memory’s creeping in.

"Didn’t she give you piano lessons before she went full-on Argent crazy," Stiles asked, trying to make a joke but Derek’s expression said it wasn't a joking matter.

"I never learned piano," Derek mumbled, looking down at his shoes. "I was fourteen, maybe fifteen toward the end."

Stiles straightened up, looking at Derek stuck somewhere between a confused frown and an amazed smile. “You’re telling me psycho Kate gave you wolfsbane alcohol? But why would she—”

“Laura told you that you can use too much right,” Derek said. “It’ll make us blackout and… really sick.” Derek cringed. “Sometimes it can even make you hallucinate. Much more than that and you put your life at risk.” 

Stiles didn’t ask anything more and Derek didn’t add anything. Meaning they stood in the most un-fucking-comfortable not silence– they weren’t talking but everyone else certainly was– for the next fifteen minutes.

Stiles was smart. He could put together what could’ve happened, it didn’t take a genius. Derek would spend almost two hours alone with Kate after school. Kate gave him enough alcohol with a high enough dose of wolfsbane that Derek blacked out. Take that combined with the fact that the Argents saw werewolves as less than human and who knows what her brain could justify doing, even if Derek was just a kid. 

It was Hell for Derek. With most of the noise dampened, it was hard to ignore all the smells, especially Stiles and the chain of emotions he was running through. It was like being surrounded by a cologne cloud of confusion, sadness, anger, disgust, and more anger. He kept waiting for Stiles to make a comment, to push for information, or make a judgment, but it didn’t come. Stiles was silent and that was almost more unnerving than if he’d just outright called him a liar. 

When their food was done, Stiles grabbed it and pulled Derek outside. He wanted to talk but this was a conversation best had away from others. He didn’t stop until they made it to the jeep. He let go so they could get in and Derek practically jumped in the jeep. He was so ready for this to be over and done, he very nearly ripped the door off its hinges getting in. 

Derek went to start the jeep and Stiles took the keys. He looked at Derek with anger and worry in his eyes but was still silent and a quiet Stiles was never good. It usually meant he was planning something and Derek’s bet was on murder. If he was right, Stiles could rip Kate to bits with or without werewolf powers. 

Derek saw the way Stiles looked at him, he could smell the emotion. He bristled in his seat, prepared for the worst.

Stiles took his time, trying to remain calm and word things in a way that wouldn’t send Derek back into his shell. “I want you to be able to talk to me,” Stiles started, chewing his lip. Derek shrunk into himself more. It wasn’t what he expected, it was worried and not accusatory at all, but it was somehow worse. “I would also like to say that Kate Argent is a crazy bitch and it is totally in no way on you.”

Derek scoffed and rolled his eyes, looking out the driver’s side window. Beacon Hills was never quiet, even at one am on Sunday. Most were hardly shutting down for the night. People were wandering around talking loudly, drunk people stumbling out of cabs to get to some restaurant or another, and cops made regular patrols, especially for weekends. 

Derek tried to keep his mind outside the jeep so he didn’t have to think about what was going on inside of it. He didn’t want to listen, let alone accept, what Stiles was saying no matter how many times he’d been told the same thing. He could tell Stiles really believed it too.

“I mean it, Der,” Stiles said. When Derek seemed to ignore him, Stiles sighed. “Why didn’t you tell my dad,” he asked. “He could have helped.”

“I didn’t even tell my sisters,” Derek said, trying to keep his irritated look. 

He remembered being in the living room at the Argent’s house with Kate. She was always so close to him. He had been on the defensive at first. She didn’t want that so she offered him drinks– ones that would actually affect him– until he was relaxed.

“It doesn’t matter. They left,” he huffed, reaching for the keys but Stiles pulled them further away. 

“Derek– holy shit– yes it matters!” Stiles tried to grab Derek’s hand, to show him Stiles was just worried, but he pulled away. 

Derek remembered how Kate used to run her fingers up and down his arms while they talked after he’d gotten sufficiently tipsy. How she used to tell him he was so grown up and other bullshit lies.  

“Did she–” Stiles was almost afraid to ask, “did she do anything to you?”

“I don’t know,” Derek grumbled, folding in on himself like a scared child but he was . Derek was still only seventeen. 

Derek remembered Kate making him feel like an adult, drinking and flirting with him. She tried to get him to flirt back, to fall for her act and he did for a time. He used to think Kate was kind and pretty and smart. To her credit, she was smart– at least smart enough to create a ruse that allowed her to squirm her way into being allowed alone time with a teenage werewolf. Then again, how had is it for an attractive twenty-five year old to get a naive and heartbroken fourteen year old to fall for her?

Stiles frowned, picking up on Derek’s body language. “Do you remember any of it,” Stiles asked.

He did. He remembered how sick he’d get. He’d be throwing up, his throat burning from the wolfsbane and stomach acid as he leaned over the toilet. He remembered how Kate would frown at him, rubbing his back as he puked. She’d call him a ‘silly little wolf’ and tell him he should drink more than he could handle. How adults have to know their own limits.

“I don’t know,” Derek mumbled, his fingers digging into his palms. Derek glared at Stiles. “ Okay , Stiles ? I don’t know!” his eyes flashed bright blue and he squeezed them shut.

She’d kiss his forehead when he’d emptied his stomach and then leave him on the cold tile floor of the bathroom until he pulled himself up to find her.  She’d make him feel like an adult who could make his own decisions and then treat him like a baby when he was weak and needed help.

He took a deep breath, trying to relax and use the stupid mantra his mom taught but all he could hear was Stiles’s racing heart. Derek made himself unfurrow, making himself act calm. He looked down at his hands watching the cuts heal. “I told my dad and he made me tell mom and Peter… I don’t want to talk about it, Stiles. It’s done. It’s over with. That’s it.” Derek wiped his hand on his jeans, leaving streaks of blood in their wake. “Give me the keys so I can drive you home.”

The alarm bells were going off in Stiles’s head. Derek was hurt, more than Stiles ever knew. He’d already pissed Derek off and he was struggling to stay calm. Stiles should stop pushing and give in. Self-preservation. 

“No,” Stiles said flatly.

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

Stiles looked Derek over and frowned. “I can drive.”

“That’s a horrible idea and you know it,” Derek grumbled, irritation rising in his voice again.

“No,” Stiles repeated. “I’m fine. I didn’t drink that much,” Derek scoffed, “and it’s been hours. I slept it off. I’ll drive,” he said firmly. Oh, his dad would kill him if he found out but Derek was not driving right now. “Get out, I’m driving,” Stiles said and got out of the jeep without another look. 

He walked around. He was rounding the driver’s side of the hood when Derek shoved the door open and glared at him. This was not going to go well. 

“Derek,” Stiles tried to keep his voice level and calm. Derek shut the door before Stiles could get in. “Dude, get in the jeep.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m going home,” he said. He didn’t give Stiles time to say anything else before he turned and started literally running. 

Stiles sighed, clenching his fists. He held back the urge to hit something and rapped his fist against the side of the jeep. He was an awesome friend. 

He got in the jeep and sighed. Fuck. He had two options and both were shitty. He could either keep his mouth shut or he could tell his dad. Both might make him a shitty person and a shitty friend. Weren’t you just so jealous? One thing was for sure, he needed to talk to Derek.

Stiles drove back and went through the motions, trying to smile and joke even when they asked where Derek had gone. Cora made a comment about Derek being ‘moody’ and Stiles tried not to cringe. 

When Scott was about to head out, Stiles pulled both him and Cora outside to talk. 

“Are you feeling okay, man,” Scott asked, glancing at Cora. Stiles hadn’t missed that they’d been doing that since he got back. 

“I think we should leave Derek alone about the booth,” Stiles said, digging his toe into the ground. 

Cora got a defensive air about her. “Did Derek say something to you? I swear to god, I will beat his ass if he—”

“No. I mean, yes but it wasn’t… about me,” Stiles wrung his hands, trying to find a way to tell them without telling them. “He told me about something and… I don’t think he needs to do it.”

Scott and Cora looked at each other. Sometimes Stiles swore that whole pack bond thing gave them telepathy. They seemed to have an entire conversation in a few seconds worth of eye contact which was totally bullshit because, hello, Stiles was right there and it was definitely about him!

Stiles and Cora went upstairs and Cora cornered Stiles. 

“Alright Stilinski, spill it,” She said, crossing her arms. 

“I’d rather not make a mess,” Stiles mumbled, capping his water bottle and flopping down on his bed since he couldn’t escape.

Cora rolled her eyes. "Not what I meant and you know it. What's the secret? What aren't you telling me," she asked more insistently.

Stiles gave her the forced frown that announced to the whole world he wasn't telling the full truth. "If I had a secret, why would I not tell you," he threw back.

"Good question," Cora said, walking to stand menacingly at the edge of the bed, "why wouldn't you?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows, faking innocence. "So you’re asking me to tell you what I wouldn’t not tell you," he asked Cora.

She faltered for a second but was used to him talking in circles to get out of things. "IStop trying to talk your way around this, you're not getting out of this conversation," Cora told him. "I can't help you if you don't tell me. Help me help you."

"Well, I don’t know how to help you help me tell you a secret I wouldn’t not tell you," Stiles said with a shrug.

"You’re doing this on purpose," Cora grumbled, rubbing her head. "Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to have a conversation with sleeping Stiles?"

"That," Stiles pointed at her, "is an invasion of privacy."

"No, what's an invasion of privacy is that you don't knock before walking into my room."

"Please," Stiles rolled his eyes, "you know I'm there the second I walk in the house– maybe before– and can tell when I'm at your door." 

Cora rolled her eyes, sitting on the edge of Stiles’s bed. He scooched over and she laid down next to him. She looked at him and then at the ceiling. 

“I want to tell you,” Stiles mumbled. Cora looked at him, silently waiting for the rest. “But it’s not my really for me to say…”

“You mean it’s Derek’s secret,” she asked and Stiles nodded. “Derek’s horrible at keeping secrets.”

Stiles sighed and turned onto his side, looking at Cora. She turned to look at him, trying to figure out what was going on. “Promise you won’t ride his case about it. If he hasn’t told you, there’s probably a good reason,” he said.

Cora frowned. She could see the serious set to Stiles’s expression. Looking into his eyes, it was obvious how much he needed her to agree. “It’s concerning when you’re this serious…”

“Cora, promise.”

“I… ya, okay. I promise,” she said. “Is Der okay,” Cora asked, sounding strangely close to a scared little kid.

Stiles took a breath and nodded. “He has your parents and uncle Peter. They’ll take care of him,” he told her, trying to convince himself too.

On Monday, Derek wasn’t at school. Not that Stiles really noticed or paid attention… except that he did. He always noticed when Derek wasn’t there. Stiles didn’t say anything to Cora but it was weird and she was acting weird too. 

Cora, his ever stoic and un-phasable best friend was all nerves and worry. Which meant that Scott was glued to her side and Stiles wasn’t much better. Most of the pack was on edge, Stiles had noticed. He wondered if it had to do with Derek or if something was going on that he hadn’t picked up on yet. 

“I have work today so I can’t help plan after practice,” Scott said as they sat down for lunch. 

“That's cool,” Cora said quickly and Stiles looked at her. “Mom doesn’t want anyone over anyway. She says Der needs space.” 

Red flag! Big huge waving red flag! Cora only said “Der” when she was worried about him. Oh, Stiles fucked up. Had he fucked up so bad that Derek wasn’t coming to school and Cora was calling him “Der”? Stiles was just glad the whole Hale family didn’t hate him now. 

“Yup. Whatever you guys want to do,” Stiles said, faking indifference.

An indifference that left Stiles alone that afternoon. Music played, filling the empty void of sound. He sat on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, picking at his nails. Yup, this sucked. He hated being alone. What the Hell was he supposed to do? Study? He couldn’t focus with his royal fuck up on his mind no matter how much Adderall he took. It actually might make it worse. God knows when he does manage to focus, he ends up stuck on the wrong thing.

Stiles grabbed his phone. He felt his heart drop into his feet. Nothing. Normally when they weren’t together, the group chat was practically exploding but there was radio silence. But it’s fine! Scott’s at work and Cora’s probably doing a family thing. 

Stiles wanted to text Derek. He needed to apologize for bringing it up at all. He acted like an ass even if he hadn’t meant to. He drafted several attempts but it all felt stupid and disingenuous. God, he was trying to apologize over text! He was a douchebag. What kind of a person apologizes over text? 

Stiles groaned and dropped his phone on the bed, flopping over on his pillows. He practically jumped out of his skin when his phone rang. He fumbled to pick it up and answered.

“Hey, kid, I’m going to be home late. We have a mess at the station,” Sheriff sighed into the phone, and Stiles frowned. Even more time alone; great. “Why don’t you order pizza for the three of you and I’ll eat whatever’s left.” 

It felt like his heart was being wrung out to dry. Even his dad figured his friends would be there.

“Very funny, dad,” Stiles said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Nobody’s here and you are not getting pizza.”

The line was quiet except for the usual noises of the station. “Cora and Scott aren’t there,” Sheriff asked, sounding bewildered.

“Nope. Just me,” Stiles said, leaning back on his pillow. 

“Okay,” Sheriff mumbled. He was quiet again. “Why don’t you order something and come eat with me? I can make some time,” Noah said. It seemed to hurt him just as much that Stiles was alone.

“Ya,” Stiles said, his voice rough. “Ya, I can do that.”

“Get whatever you want. You’ll pick for me anyway,” Noah teased his son and Stiles forced a laugh. It seemed to put his dad at ease, thinking Stiles was laughing. "Alright. See you in a bit, kid."

Stiles was a weird kid, he knew that. It was just more prevalent at times. Like when he walks into the Sheriff’s station with food and is able to greet most of the deputies by name. He’d probably spent as much time at that station as he had spent at their house.

Stiles didn’t bother to knock before walking into his dad's office. Noah looked at him over his reading glasses and smiled. He closed whatever file he'd been reading, set it to the side, and put his glasses on top of it.

"What do we got," he asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Low-sodium stir fry for you," Stiles said, setting the container down in front of his dad, "and chicken alfredo for me."

Noah frowned, giving Stiles a confused look. "Did you go to two places?"

"No, I went to one," Stiles sat down, "our fridge."

Noah sighed and popped open his container. "When I told you to bring food, I didn't mean leftovers," he said but started eating all the same. "And you could've at least brought something that tasted better than low-sodium stir fry. It's a crime that it exists at all."

Stiles shook his head. "Then you are more than welcome to say that to sweet, old Mr. Oliver's face," he said and Noah cringed. 

They let the ambient sounds of the station fill the gaps in the conversation as they ate. Papers were shuffled through quiet discussions. Radios beeped, relaying garbled messages through the station. The phone rang on occasion and the door clanged as officers came in and out for calls. Some officers talked and laughed. A person in the drunk tank complained about wanting to leave. Stiles used to fall asleep to the noise on the couch in his dad’s office. It was almost comforting in a way. 

"So," Noah said, looking at Stiles expectantly.

"So," Stiles repeated, not sure what he was supposed to say.

"Where is everyone," Noah asked, trying and failing to sound neutral.

Stiles frowned. "Scott’s working and Cora’s with her family."

" Her family," Noah nodded, waiting for more but not asking.

"Yup," Stiles mumbled, stuffing food into his mouth.

"Did you… have a fight," he asked, not sure what to do. 

"No, we didn’t have a fight. Can we have this conversation later so I don’t feel like I’m being interrogated," Stiles asked, setting his fork down.

"Oh, if you want interrogation we can go down the hall," Noah offered and Stiles rolled his eyes but he smiled. "What’s been bothering you? You're being quiet and it's starting to freak me out."

Stiles sighed. "I have something that I really want to tell you but it's about someone else and that someone hasn't told anyone about it so it's not my something to tell you, it's someone else's something to tell you but someone doesn't want to tell anyone ," he said.

Noah started to nod but sighed and shook his head. "I have no clue what you just said," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Good. Great because it's not mine to tell," Stiles said.

"Is anyone in immediate danger, Stiles," Noah asked.

"Nope. Don't think so," Stiles mumbled.

"Then you get that someone to talk to me about this something," Noah sighed. "Was that even close to what you said?"

"I think you got it," Stiles said and Noah shook his head, rubbing his face.

“For once, I’d like a straightforward problem and solution,” Noah sighed.

There was a knock on the door and deputy Parrish walked in. “Sorry Sheriff, no easy answers tonight,” he said, looking pointedly at Stiles.

“Just tell me,” Noah said, knowing Stiles would find out eventually.

Parrish seemed to hesitate to say anything. “We got another one,” he said. “There was an animal attack on a hiking trail off the highway,” Parrish explained, handing Noah a file. Stiles made a mental note that Parrish seemed to know something wasn’t normal about the attack.

“Scared, maimed, or dead,” Noah asked, taking the file.

“Dead,” Parrish answered somberly.

Noah opened the file, looking at the pictures. Stiles tried to get a peak at them too but Noah closed it before he could. “I’m calling Talia in as an animal expert,” Noah told Parrish, giving him a look that said it was the only statement to be made.

Parrish nodded, seeming to relax slightly. “Sounds like we could use someone who can understand what’s happening out there,” he said. 

Parrish left the room and Stiles looked at his dad with wide eyes. “Does he know,” Stiles asked him.

Noah hummed, “who? Parrish?”

“No, the Easter Bunny. Yes, I mean Parrish,” Stiles whispered harshly.

Noah sighed and shook his head. “Stiles,” he said, “everyone in this department who deserves their badge has some inkling of an idea about what’s going on around here. The only difference between us and them is that we let some of our beliefs change to accept the weird facts of our world.” Noah thought and then muttered, “I guess you didn’t change anything since you’ve always known…”

Stiles thought about it but something else was bothering him. “What did Parrish mean when he said ‘another one’?”

Noah leaned back in his chair, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. “There’s something going on out there. This is the third attack in as many days,” he told him and Stiles’s stomach started to turn. “The first died and the second is in the hospital. I was hoping whatever it is was getting weaker but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“Three days,” Stiles asked and his dad nodded. “So the first one was on Saturday. The same day as the car accident?” Noah took a breath.

“One and the same,” Noah admitted.

“So… the crash and the dead guy… a wolf,” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know, Stiles. That’s why I’m calling Talia,” Noah told him. 

Noah picked up the phone and started dialing but Stiles couldn’t pay attention to his father’s call. He’d been out in the woods the same day as the first attack. What would have happened if they were the ones attacked? Or Derek? Scott and Cora and Derek might be werewolves but they weren’t trained to fight any more than basic sparing with the pack. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice when Talia and Peter got there.

Talia must have noticed Stiles’s slow spiral of thoughts. She ran a hand over his hair, resting her hand on the back of his neck like she would for the pack. He looked up at her and she smiled at him. “Don’t worry, little one. We’ll figure it all out. You’re safe but you’re still welcome to stay with us if you’d like,” Talia told him.

“Are you sure,” Stiles asked, hoping his real question came through.

“You know how they are,” Talia chuckled. “They just need time to cool off. Cora’s been very lonely without you.” Stiles nodded and Talia turned to Noah. “We think we know what’s happening but I’d like some proof first.”

Talia took the file from Noah, her hand moving From Stiles’s neck to hand things to Peter. Peter looked over each of the pictures. They must not have liked what they saw. The siblings shared a look and gave Noah his file back. 

“What do you think,” Noah asked her.

Talia frowned, shaking her head. “It’s as we thought. There’s likely a rogue alpha nearby. It seems to be trying to build a pack,” she said, looking at her brother. “We should start looking as soon as possible.”

Peter looked more serious than Stiles had seen him in a while. “This is becoming a problem, Talia. First, the alpha that turned the new pups, then the supposed omega that attacked Paige, and now this? Doesn’t it seem a bit strange,” Peter asked her.

“We can discuss that later,” Talia said firmly. “For now, we need to make sure no one else gets hurt.” 

Noah stood up, holding up a hand. “What is Peter talking about? I mean, don’t get me wrong, all of this is weird to me but weird to you,” he said, looking between Peter and Talia. 

“It… is unusual that others would come through our territory without permission if they were part of a pack. That, however, doesn’t seem to be the case with our trespassers. They have been alone on their way through,” Talia said, trying to stamp out the unreasonable fear Peter had created. 

“Yes and they all seem to be coming from the same direction,” Peter said, folding his arms behind his back. “Makes you wonder if they’re fleeing something in particular.”

Talia sighed. “Peter, shut up or I will get a dog house so you can sleep in it,” she said, looking at Peter with a polite and very threatening look. 

“If anyone is going to live in the dog house, I’d think it would be the one who told a whole family of humans that werewolves exist,” Peter countered, “I mean if we’re keeping track.”

Talia was trying to act serious and at least slightly professional but her little brother was especially good at baiting her into an argument. “Oh, but what about the one who procreated with one of the most psychotic and prolific ‘Weres in the current day who calls herself the Desert Wolf?”

“She wasn’t the Dessert Wolf then, that was her father,” Peter snapped back. “Besides, we were young and it was Mexico ,”

Talia ignored him. “We’ll deal with the issue as quickly as possible, Noah,” Talia said, flipping back to her professional facade. “My offer still stands: if you would feel more comfortable, Stiles is more than welcome to stay at our house with Adam and the kids tonight while Peter and I try to find our newest guest.”

“Sounds like a plan. Do you need any help,” Noah asked. “The curfew is being announced as we speak and the usual advisory to avoid the woods.”

“Get a mountain ash door. Use some mistletoe lotion. Drink wolfsbane tea,” Stiles muttered.

Talia hummed, placing a placating hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “If there was a pattern of attacks, then you might have a case,” Talia told him.

“Or if we were dealing with vampires,” Peter grumbled. “What is the tea going to do? Make them taste bad?”

Noah looked at Peter with a mix of fear and confusion. “Vampires are real,” Noah asked.

“Yes, they are, in fact,” Peter said.

“There used to be,” Talia corrected. “There hasn’t been a confirmed vampire in decades.”

“What happened,” Noah asked and Stiles looked up at her too. 

“Hunters happened,” Peter said. “Slowly, the entire supernatural world is being exposed to people who intend to kill us all.”

“And they succeeded with the vampires,” Talia said firmly as if it were something she said often. “But that’s not the problem at hand, little brother. We should be worried about the rogue alpha. Peter and I will track it. You keep people, including the deputies, out of the forest."

Noah nodded, looking pointedly at Stiles. "I'll do what I can."

Chapter Text

Peter and Talia didn't find the rogue that night or the next or the next. By Thursday everyone was on edge. Talia and Peter were constantly searching for any sign of the alpha werewolf or other werewolves for that matter. Noah had made it clear Stiles was supposed to stay with the Hales unless Noah was home with him. The deputies were jittery, waiting for the next death.  

Adam stopped Stiles as he opened the front door. Adam Hale was a rather intimidation looking guy, something Derek got from his dad. Actually, Derek got almost his entire appearance from his dad: black hair, gray-green eyes, bushy eyebrows, and even his stature. In the same way that Cora looked scarily similar to Talia, Derek was a carbon copy of his dad. Laura had gotten most of her mom’s appearance but her eyes had a gray to them like Adam's. For all Derek got of his father’s looks, he got his mother’s personality. Adam was a walking teddy bear and Derek was, well, Derek.

"Enter at your own risk," Adam whispered. "Talia and Peter having a disagreement so the floor is made of eggshells."

Stiles stopped, thinking through his mental calendar. "The full moon isn't until next week,” he said and Adam sighed.

“Don’t remind me,” he mumbled. “I love my kids to death but if I have to break up one more fight over waffles , I might never make them again.” Adam shook his head and started walking to the kitchen.

Stiles smirked, following Adam to the kitchen. “Well, the good news is you don’t have to make any more kids,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen island.

Adam chuckled, pouring tea for Talia and Peter. “Hey, I would have been more than happy to help repopulate the local ‘wolf population,” Adam joked and Stiles grimaced at the comment and the smelly tea. 

“Nasty,” Stiles mumbled, glaring at the cups of tea. “Where is everyone,” he asked, speaking up. He knew if Cora had heard him, she’d have at least texted him which meant she wasn’t home.

“Derek’s hiding in his room, and Cora’s on a run because, and I quote, she’s ‘gonna lose her shit if she hears one more sigh out of Derek’. Malia is avoiding Peter so five bucks says she’s in the basement and Ethan and Aiden are at the public library for study group. I’m going to pick them up in about thirty minutes,” he told Stiles, picking up the cups. He paused, then gave Stiles a pleading smile. “Don’t tell Talia I let Cora go alone. I might end up in the dog house for that one.”

“Sourwolf is being sour, Chaos is causing chaos, and Malia’s avoiding her dad, imagine that,” Stiles hummed. He looked back at the stairs as he said it. He still wanted to talk to Derek about the other night. 

Adam chuckled, “all things as they should be on that front.”

"I think I'm gonna hang out in Cora’s room 'til she gets back." Liar. He could practically hear Cora’s voice. The best part was that Adam, being the token human of the Hale family, couldn’t hear the lie as easily. 

"Have fun," Adam told him. "I'm going into ground zero," he said, nodding to the cups of tea.

"Good luck. Don't die," Stiles joked, getting up from the island.

“Sourwolf is being sour, imagine that,” Stiles hummed. He looked back at the stairs even as he said it. He still wanted to talk to Derek about the other night. "I think I'm gonna hang out in Cora’s room 'til she gets back." Liar. He could practically hear Cora’s voice. The best part was that Adam, being the token human of the Hale family, couldn’t hear the lie as easily. 

"Have fun," Adam told him. "I'm going into ground zero," he said, holding the cups of tea.

"Good luck. Don't die," Stiles joked, getting up from the island.

He made it to the stairs and paused, listening as Adam walked to Talia's office. The door opened and Stiles heard them. Talia and Peter were arguing. In the few moments the door was open Stiles could understand them. They weren't yelling but the tension was palpable. 

“They're running, Talia,” Peter said. “So what are they running from?” Peter was the only one of the werewolves that seemed to be willing to challenge Alpha Talia but he was her brother and right hand. Stiles figured Peter and Talia would argue no matter who the alpha was just because they were siblings.

“I hope for all our sakes you don’t mean what I think,” Talia said firmly but waited to hear Peter’s thoughts.

“Hunters,” Peter said in a bitter tone and Stiles took in a sharp breath. The faint noise must have been heard because they went quiet, realizing the door was open. 

“Love, please close the door,” Talia said barely loud enough for Stiles to hear.

The office was the only soundproof room in the house. When the door closed, the house was quiet again.

Stiles took a deep breath. He had rarely heard Talia's voice so cold and angry, even with her brother. He tried to relax but, if Talia was upset, there was good reason to be anxious. If Peter was right, if hunters were coming, it could spell disaster.

He tried to push it out of his head and went upstairs. He walked down the hall, passing Cora’s room, and stopped outside Derek’s door. Stiles chewed his lip, trying to decide what he’d say. Wing it. It didn’t matter if he came up with some plan now, it’d be gone by the time he wanted to talk anyway so he’d just wing it and hope for the best. 

He knocked on the door even though he knew very well Derek could tell he was outside. He didn’t wait for an answer, pushing the door open. 

Stiles had been in Derek’s room very few times, most of which was when they were little. Back then it was a brightly colored kid’s room. The walls were pale blue and decorated with floating shelves holding various pictures and toys. There had been a lofted bed with curtains around the bottom to hide the exorbitant amount of Legos he used to have. It fit Derek back then but this fit Derek now. 

The walls were a deep forest green. It made Stiles chuckle at all the times Cora had joked green wasn’t Derek’s color because it most certainly was. The bookcase, desk, and bed frame seemed to be made of the same dark-colored wood with a slight red stain. His bedding was– a big shock here– black. There was a plush chair in the corner by the bookcase which is where Derek was, reading a book or at least was before Stiles walked in.

Stiles didn't bother giving Derek the time to shoo him out. Instead, he walked into the room and sat on the end of Derek’s bed. “What’s up Sourwolf,” he asked. Derek raised an eyebrow at him, rolled his eyes, and then looked back at his book. “Oh, eyebrow communication. My favorite guessing game,” Stiles joked rubbing his hands together.

Derek looked up at him, giving him an irritated look. 

“Give me the hints.”

Derek looked at Stiles, both his eyebrows rising in disbelief.

“Two words,” Stiles said and Derek rolled his eyes. “Mad. Angry. Irritated!” 

Derek ran a hand through his hair and tried to ignore Stiles.

“Wow, more than just wiggling eyebrows. I feel so lucky,” Stiles teased him. Derek gave Stiles a look and tried to go back to his book. “You’re irritated,” he said, quickly adding, “with me.”

Derek huffed and shook his head. It served to be pretty difficult to ignore Stiles when kept talking and he smelled like that . He smelled like the chemicals of his medication but, under that, he was anxious and worried and maybe even a little scared.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay,” Stiles sighed. “I was a dick and insensitive and you were telling me pretty important stuff…” Stiles looked down at his hands, lacing them together. “You were there for me when my mom died and… I want to be here for you.” Stiles chewed the inside of his cheek. “I still think you should talk to my dad,” Derek closed his book loudly, “but I won’t push it! Just… know he’s there if you want to tell him.”

Derek’s looked softened and the smell of Stiles’s anxiety started to slip away.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I kinda figured I’d have been kicked out or thrown out a window by now,” Stiles said, nodding to the window behind Derek. He got a smirk and a huff of a laugh out of Derek for the trouble. “Did you know there’s a word for that? It’s defenestration but there’s no word– at least in modern English– for the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s the second time you’ve used that same Tumblr joke,” Derek mumbled, shaking his head.

“Holy shit, it speaks,” Stiles said, looking at Derek with a wide smile. Just like that, the potent smell of worry and anxiety was gone. 

Stiles started rambling on about random things. He posed questions but barely paused. True to his word, he didn’t expect Derek to answer him. He just kept talking, letting the topic change with his thought process which was easier to follow than usual. Stiles started with iconic posts from Tumblr, hanging on the joke about beautiful quotes that came from dumb places. Then to Shakespeare and all the dick jokes in the play which turned into Mythology. Stiles was especially fond of Greek and Roman myths. Of course that brought up the Lycaon and the She-Wolf because it’s Stiles. Then came the jump.

“Oh, I also wanted to say that you don’t have to help with the booth if you don’t want to. I’ll stop bugging you about it. Hey, do you know about the original holiday that Valentine’s Day replaced?”

Derek thought for a second. “Lupercalia? You know Lupercus wasn’t a werewolf, right? He was, like, a satyr.”

“Ya, who helped the She-Wolf raise Romulus and Remus,” Stiles added. “I knew there was a mythology nerd in you somewhere,” He said with an ornery smirk. 

“God, I hope not,” Cora gagged. “I’m showering. Stiles,” she pointed at him, “remember the rule.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I have not broken the rule since it was reworded,” Stiles said blandly, knowing she heard him. 

“Liar,” Cora said loudly so Stiles could hear.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Rude ass,” he joked, looking at Derek. “We’re good, right,” Stiles asked Derek hesitantly.

Derek frowned, looking back down at his book. “We always were.”

“Really? Cause you kind of seemed to be avoiding me,” Stiles asked.

“Yes,” Derek mumbled. “It’s fine. I just… It’s fine.”

Stiles nodded and stood up. “Alright but I’m gonna hold you to it. You’re my friend, dude,” he started to back out of the room, ginning at Derek, “and there’s no getting out of it now.” 

Stiles turned and walked down to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Hey eavesdropper, I'm going downstairs to grab and snack.”

“Grab me some pretzels and jerky,” Cora called through the door.

“Enjoy your shower nosey,” Stiles mumbled, hearing the shower turn on as he walked away. 

He took the stairs two at a time, heading to the kitchen. He opened the snack cupboard– where he had his own shelf– and grabbed a pack of pop-tarts. The number one love language of werewolves– or at least the Hale werewolves– is providing for your needs. Especially food. Stiles put them in the toaster and went back to the cupboard, tossing Cora’s desired treats on the counter and grabbing coffee grounds. 

Stiles started a pot of coffee and sat at the counter eating his pop-tarts. As if on schedule, when the pot started to gurgle as the last drops of coffee dripped down into the pot, the entire household converged in the kitchen. 

Malia was the first to arrive with the very first guggle of the pot. “Fuck, I need coffee,” she grumbled. She fixed her cup and looked at Stiles. “If he says One. More. Thing about my ‘birthright as a werecoyote’, I’m going to put wolfsbane in his fucking cologne,” she growled.

“The expensive one,” Stiles asked, thinking about how one would go about aerosolizing Wolfsbane. 

Malia scoffed, “what other one does he have? They’re all imported.”

Stiles nodded. “Huh, like you,” he joked.

“I wasn’t sold,” Malia said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Weren’t you though?”

“No. Peter proved paternity so he got custody. If I had been adopted, I wouldn’t have had to deal with his ass,” Malia said, sipping her coffee. “I couldn’t have been so lucky.”

Talia walked in next, fluffing Stiles’s hair lovingly as she walked by. “How are you, pup,” she sighed tiredly, making herself a cup of coffee.

“Not a pup,” Peter corrected, following not far behind his sister. He looked at Stiles and nodded in acknowledgment. 

“What,” Talia asked rhetorically, looking at Peter and then at Stiles. She chuckled and shook her head at herself. “Ah, our human child,” she joked, smiling at Stiles. 

“Tis’ I, Stiles the human boy,” Stiles said between bites. “What’s got you so tired?”

“Peter,” Talia said, glaring at her little brother. “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you, dear sister,” Peter remarked, pouring his own coffee.

Talia waited until Peter was taking a drink of his coffee and knocked into him, sending hot coffee all down the front of his– likely very expensive– shirt. Peter righted his cup, the mild burns from the hot liquid healing quickly under his shirt. He turned his head, giving Talia the patented Hale Murder Glare.

Talia shrugged, looking like she couldn’t care less. “Oops,” she said, completely unapologetic. 

Adam walked in, followed by Ethan and Aiden, and sighed. ”Can we keep the werewolf on werewolf violence to a minimum when humans are present,” he asked like he’d said it a million times. He probably had. 

“There wouldn’t have been any if Talia weren’t acting so childish,” Peter said, daring Talia to say something. 

The strength it took for Talia to fight back to urge to blame it on Peter was visible. She glared at her brother and rolled her eyes. She looked at Stiles as if asking if he could believe that Peter was considered an adult. It took a lot for Stiles not to laugh at the pair.

Derek walked into the kitchen and stopped next to his dad. When they stood next to each other, it was almost comical how much they looked alike. Derek was just a slightly shorter– and younger– version of his dad. Adam wrapped an arm around Derek and whispered something to him, earning a small smile from Derek.

“Sounds great,” Derek mumbled, slipping out from under his dad’s arm to get coffee. 

Derek and Talia were shoulder-to-shoulder at the coffee pot. Talia put  more cups next to Derek’s. Derek poured coffee into the extra cups as he fixed his own. Both of them glanced up at the same time and Talia added another cup to the counter.

Derek rolled his eyes and filled the new cup up halfway. He fixed one of the extras for Stiles and went to the counter. He set the cup in front of Stiles and sat down at the breakfast counter too, leaving a seat between them.

Talia grabbed the remaining cups of black coffee. She added a small spoon full of sugar to each, a touch of creamer in one, and a lot to the half-filled cup. She handed the cup with a small amount of creamer to Adam. “This is for you,” Talia said, giving him a kiss. 

“Thank you, love,” Adam said, practically making heart eyes at her.

She took two of the cups with only sugar and gave them to Ethan and Aiden. “Here you are boys. How was studying,” Talia asked, leaning into Adam, who wrapped an arm around her waist. 

That left the cup of creamer with a splash of coffee, also known as Cora’s cup of liquid diabetes, on the counter. 

“Good. I think I might actually pass the english test now,” Ethan told her.

“I finished my essay, too,” Aiden added.

“Good. I’m glad your friends were able to help. You’re going to do amazing on your test, Ethan, and I can always help if you’d like. Aiden, I read the rough draft of your essay and you’re teacher will be very impressed,” Talia said and both boys smiled back at her, happy for the praise.

Adam hummed, kissing Talia’s cheek. He’d never grow tired of seeing what a good mom she was. 

“Alright,” Adam said, addressing the whole group, “what do we want for dinner? Stiles?” 

“Shouldn’t we wait for Cora,” Stiles asked, blowing on his coffee to cool it to a drinkable temperature.

Derek glanced up before sipping his coffee. “The shower turned off. She’ll hear,” he said. Stiles wondered if the coffee burnt his mouth. If it had, would the werewolf even notice? It probably healed as soon as he swallowed the drink. 

Stiles shrugged. He tried to take a sip of his coffee and spit it back out, burning his tongue. Derek looked between Stiles and the cup of coffee. Never suffering burnt tastebuds longer than a second could quite possibly be the one werewolf thing Stiles was jealous of. 

Stiles cleared his throat, trying to move past the tingling sensation of his burnt tastebuds. “Dad’s on a day shift so he’ll actually be home for dinner. I’ll probably head home and eat with him,” he said. He stared down at the offending liquid as if it were the coffee’s fault he didn’t wait long for it to cool.  

Talia rolled her eyes. “Are you going to make food or order it,” she asked, already knowing the answer. “Noah is always welcome for dinner. You can both eat with us,” she added, not leaving room for argument. Talia glanced in the direction of the stairs. “Cora agrees.”

Cora scrambled down the stairs and into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. She only paused long enough for Adam to lean down and press a kiss to the top of her wet head of hair before snatching up the cup of coffee. She took a sip and did her usual happy-coffee head bobble. 

“I vote we do movie night too," Cora said, sitting down at the breakfast table bar between Derek and Stiles. "Ya know, since Mom and Peter arguing put everyone in a bad mood,” Cora said point blank, looking at Peter as she sipped her coffee. 

Peter met Cora’s eyes with a glare. Talia sighed, rolling her eyes. 

"Fine but I'm just going to heat up frozen pizzas if we’re doing snack trays," Talia said. She was slightly disappointed when nobody objected. What do you expect from teenagers, though?

Chapter Text

Movie night with the Hales would absolutely mind-fuck anyone who’s not used to it. The preparation for a movie night takes as long if not longer than fixing dinner. In fact, it falls to anyone not cooking to start the setup. Today, that was Derek, Cora, Malia, and Stiles. Adam and Talia were cooking. Noah and Peter were in the kitchen too, talking through their forest findings… or lack thereof.

Building pillow mountain starts with two people going into the basement to get the foam mattress topper– one to lift and one to make sure nothing gets broken in the process– that then gets covered by a sheet to keep any accumulated basement yuck off everything else. The mattress in pressed against the L-shaped couch and the result is a couch-bed combo big enough for the entire Hale pack to sit comfortably without having to touch each other. Then they add every fucking blanket in northern California intermixed with about five dozen pillows. Where does the couch end? Somewhere in nap mountain, nobody knows! Then, someone pulls even more pillows out of god knows where.

Cora mumbled something to Malia and smirked evilly, glancing at the couch. “Hey Stiles,” Cora said, waiting for him to look at her and then lobbing a pillow halfway across the room at him. 

Stiles chucked the pillow back at Cora and managed to hit Malia instead. Cora stifled a chuckle and Malia glared at her. 

Derek picked up a pillow. He looked at Malia, meeting her unamused expression. They seemed to make a silent agreement and both them swung pillows at Cora. 

Cora was dazed for a second, having been hit from both sides with the plush weapons. Derek laughed at her betrayed expression.

“Oh, it’s on,” Cora told them with a wicked grin and all-out war broke out. 

Cora grabbed another pillow and whacked Derek. He swung again but she ducked– Derek’s pillow hitting Malia instead– and ran for the couch. Stiles was there to start beating her with a pillow the second she dove onto the couch. Malia jumped over the couch too and Cora scrambled to her feet to avoid Malia and Stiles. 

Ethan walked back from the laundry room with freshly cleaned blankets. He stood off to the side, finding it funny enough just to watch. That is, he was until Aiden came running down the stairs and attacked him from behind with the pillows from their room and jumped over the couch to get away. 

Derek got onto the couch too, attacking Cora from the opposite direction. She yelped and dropped her pillow. She grabbed Stiles’s and held his arms to his sides, hiding behind him like a human shield. Derek tried to hit her with a pillow but he just kept hitting Stiles when she’d ducked. Malia managed a few good hits, forcing Cora to retreat. 

Ethen ran around the couch, making step backward but she lost her footing on a rather slick silky pillow. She yipped in surprise as she fell, dragging Stiles with her. There was a loud rip as they went down and feathers went everywhere .

“What was that,” came the cacophony of voices from the kitchen, quickly putting an end to the vicious pillow fight. 

Once the food is ready and they’ve set up the Mount Everest of coziness, they're called into the kitchen. Plates are filled with food and they sit at the table. 

They finish cleaning up dinner and then out comes the movie night snack stash. As if Stiles needed any more reminders that the Hales express love through food. Everyone in the house has their own serving tray worth of the foods they love. They have a stash of candy too. It gets added to any time they see candy they like on sale. Okay, so maybe Stiles was a little bit jealous that the werewolves could probably sit down and eat an entire bag of candy without gaining an ounce or losing muscle tone.

Derek’s is always super specific because he only eats this one very specific brand of peanut butter chocolate granola bars. God forbid you by any other brand because they aren’t the same! Stiles will never stop harassing him about the chocolate-covered coffee beans because Derek called them rat turds the first time he saw them. Cora’s tray is a mess and probably the nasties mix of things to exist. She will make eye contact with Stiles and dip her extra buttery popcorn in hummus and eat a gummy worm right after to laugh at the face Stiles makes.

Then came the debacle of choosing what movies to watch. Stiles wanted Marvel. Cora would scoff and say they’d have to watch DC to get a good superhero movie. That always started an argument. Derek would say Spider-Man and then came the argument of who was the superior Spider-Man. Aiden argued that cartoon spider-man would always be the best and Ethan threw a piece of popcorn at his for dissing Tobey Maguire. Malia suggests TV shows instead, thus starting the Movie vs Series vs TV show arguments. 

Of course, then Peter would offer up the title of a movie that was in a different language but not Spanish, even though most of the Hales spoke Spanish, it was usually French or Greek. That usually served to end the current argument so the teens could declare his suggestion annoying and pretentious because they was ninety percent of the time. Adam would then swoop in with an iconic movie like Footloose or The Breakfast Club. Talia would suggest a movie that’s older than everyone in the room. Noah would give a tight-lipped smile and say something about newer movies.

How they ended up watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nobody knew. Why, however, was clear. It was partly to make fun of the shitty portrait of the supernatural and mostly to poke fun at Peter’s fear of vampires. 

When the first vampire popped up on the screen in an attempt to be scary, there was a round of laughter. 

“Aw, look Cora it has your eyes,” Stiles cooed, pointing out the vampire’s yellow eyes. And rather wrinkly face. Then Stiles noticed something. He smiled ear to ear and looked at Derek. "Hey, they don't have eyebrows when they transform either," Stiles said with an evil smirk. “You’re not alone,” he teased. 

There was running commentary throughout the show. Cora and Stiles made fun of Buffy for keeping the whole Slayer thing a secret. Peter scoffed every time Giles found some obscure fact in minutes. Talia and Noah were tag teaming the bitter grumbling about how teenagers were fighting adults’ wars, intermittently broken up by Noah complaining about how useless the cops in the show were. Derek and Malia were calling the town’s people stupid.

Halfway through the characters' nightmares coming true, Noah’s radio goes off. There was a report of two teenagers going into the woods. He sent a look to Talia, preparing for the worst. From the way the other ‘wolves acted, Talia was on edge too. 

The credits started to roll for the episode and Noah’s radio went off again. There were reports of screams close to where the teens had last been seen. 

Peter and Talia were out the door before the call ended. Noah wasn’t far behind them, leaving the four teens sitting in front of the tv to stare.  

Adam sighed and stood up, closing the door behind them, He looked at the teens and frowned. “Why don’t we have some tea,” he asked.

The rest of the night was filled with nerves and silent looks and the desire to help. Malia was pacing like a caged animal, wanting to run out and help Peter and Talia. Stiles tried to lighten the mood a little by teasing her about it but got a death glare. 

It was nearly midnight when Talia and Peter made it back. They tried to sneak past the kids but were caught red-handed. Literally, they were both bloody and wearing tattered clothes. They were blocked in the hall, bombarded by a litany of questions. Where were you? Who was it? What happened? Did you kill them? Did anyone get bit? Is it over?

Talia held a hand up, telling them to calm down. She waited until they’d gotten all of the questions out of their systems before saying anything. “The alpha is no longer an issue. He was alone. The teens ran away while we were dealing with the werewolf and we’re unsure if either was bitten,” she told them. “We will keep eyes on both of them until we’re sure. Now, to bed. All of you.” 

Derek and Malia hesitated but went upstairs. Cora stayed, looking from Stiles to her mother. Talia nodded and Cora went upstairs too.

“You’ll stay here for the night, Stiles,” Talia told him, running a hand over his hair soothingly. “Your dad will be working late.”

When the murders started again, the entire pack was thrown into chaos. It was like a bad movie. Isaac’s dad was killed. Isaac turned to Talia for support when he found out. 

Talia met him at the police station when he called. He’d held it together well, trying not to cry. She could tell how badly he was hurting before even seeing him. She pulled him into a hug, gently rubbing his back.

“Oh, sweet boy, you don’t have to be so strong. I’m here now. I’ve got you,” she whispered. 

Talia held Isaac, letting him cry. She let him be a child who’d lost a parent. Noah let them sit in his office. 

“I’m horrible,” Isaac mumbled, wiping his face on his jacket.

“You’re no such thing,” Talia told him, giving him tissues to use instead of his jacket.

“Yes I am. I should be sad but I’m not,” Isaac told her and Talia ran a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to feel anything. Whatever you feel is what’s right for you.”

“My dad died,” he mumbled. “I should be sad but I’m relieved. I don’t feel bad at all.”

Talia took a moment to thing about his words. “Why are you relieved, pup? Was he sick?” She felt how Isaac tensed at the question. “You don’t have to tell me if—”

“He hurt me,” Isaac said. Talia held him tighter. “A lot. He would, he would lock me in the old freezer for hours…”

Talia wiped away tears of her own. “Why didn’t you tell me,” she asked gently. 

“I was scared.”

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Talia promised. “Nobody’s going to hurt you now. Not while I have you.”

It wasn’t even a question when she’d brought Isaac home. He was theirs and Hale house was his home. Adam was trying to prepare the house for inspection so they could foster Isaac officially while Talia and Peter hunted whatever had done started killing again.

In the mean time, they reinstated their werewolf-buddy system. They were being extra careful since, if this was a newly turned wolf, they were likely one of the teens that had been attacked and were, therefore, in high school. 

Derek, Cora, Malia, Ethan and Aiden were to help Adam get the house ready for inspection, which was no easy feat with eight people living there. In the mean time, Issac was in the state’s care because it was a great idea to take a kid away from their support system after his father– albeit an abusive one– just died. Erica was supposed to be with Lydia. Erica claimed it was just because she and boyd were rarely apart anyway. Boyd– who had been deemed the most observant– was watching for any sign of another werewolf at school. Scott was on Stiles duty and Cora tried to shirk her responsibilities to hang out with them.

It was like that that Stiles, once again, ended up alone. Cora was being forced to prepare the house and Scott was supposed to be riding home with Stiles, except that he had work. It was fine, though. Sheriff would be home soon, so Stiles could go to the Hales’ house until then. All Stiles had to do was get to the turn-off near the preserve and up the dirt road to the Hales’ house.

Apparently, Roscoe had other ideas. 

The jeep started making whining. He decided to head to the mechanic instead, hoping Roscoe would live that long on the rough backroads he’d taken.

“That’s not good,” Stiles cringed when the whining sound of the engine got louder. That sounded expensive. He checked his phone, no service. “Of course, because why would I have service when I’m about to be stranded with a fucking murderous creature on the loose?” 

He pressed on the brakes to slow down and the jeep still seemed to be revving. 

“That’s really not good,” Stiles sighed. “Please don’t be the alternator.”

He pressed the clutch, shifting down but it didn’t help. He pulled over and put it in park on the side of the road. Even with his foot completely off the gas, the engine was still revving. He turned the jeep off and sighed.

“That,” he mumbled, flopping back in his seat, “is most definitely the alternator. Probably killed my battery too.”

Stiles checked his phone again, just to be sure it still had no service. He tossed it into the passenger seat and got out. He popped the hood, looking down at the engine with nothing he can do. 

“Can’t fix that with ducktape,” he mumbled to himself. He shook his head and snatched his phone out of the jeep. He took a picture of the alternator to get the part number. He closed the hood and ran a hand through his hair. “Awesome…”

He grabbed his backpack out of the jeep, double-checked he had his wallet in the bag, and started walking towards the auto shop. 

He made it a block before a car honked at him He looked and saw Derek slowing down to keep pace with Stiles as he walked. 

Derek rolled down the passenger window and asked, “what are you doing?” He looked Stiles over, making sure he wasn’t hurt. Nope, just an idiot. 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m walking, genius,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

“Why,” Derek asked and Stiles stopped. Derek stopped his car, flicking on the hazards.

“Because I felt like it,” Stiles said sarcastically. “The jeep’s alternator went out. I’m going to get a new one.”

Derek frowned even more somehow. “And you didn’t think to call someone,” he asked.

Stiles looked at Derek like he was an idiot. “Oh, no. I didn’t think to call someone when there’s a murderous who-knows-what on the loose,” he said sarcastically, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Let me just try to call someone, oh wait, I have no service,” Stiles looked at Derek deadpan. “I’m not stupid, asshole.”

Derek sighed and put his car in park, reaching over to unlock the passenger door. “Get in,” he grumbled.

Stiles snorted, pulling the door open. “Is the button not working again? And whose vehicle sucks?”

“Shut up,” Derek grumbled. “At least mine has electric locks and windows.”

Stiles sat down. “Not if they don’t work,” he mumbled, closing the door. “To the mechanic.”

Derek shook his head but started driving. Stiles was only a mile out from the shop when the jeep decided she was done. He probably could have limped her there if he’d really had to. They parked in the lot and Stiles pulled on the door handle. He glared at the door when it didn’t open, checking that it was in fact unlocked, and then turned the glare to Derek. 

“Your car is trying to hold me hostage,” Stiles told him blandly.

“Maybe it knows you’re an idiot with no self-preservation skills and it trying to keep you from accidentally walking into a death trap,” Derek said back, just as blandly. He looked at Stiles, with raised eyebrows.

“What’s going to happen? Am I gonna be crushed by a car,” he asked, using his weight to unstick the door and knock it open. He started walking to the shop’s door. Stiles looked back when he heard Derek’s door open and close behind him. He smirked, looking over his shoulder at the grumpy ‘wolf. Stiles scoffed, “aw, my big strong protector. Are you going to, like, grab me and dive out of the way of a flying car?”

Derek rolled his eyes, following Stiles into the store. When they walked in, Derek got a weird feeling. There wasn’t really a smell, just a barely there heartbeat that was too fast. He thought it was coming from the repair garage but it was hard to tell from how quiet the sound was, especially with two closed doors between them and the noise. 

Stiles had been talking to Tucker when Derek couldn’t take it anymore. “Is there someone in the garage,” he asked, earning a pair of weird looks.

“No. You good dude,” Tucker said. “The face you’re making looks like you got an actual stick up your ass.”

“No… nothing,” Derek mumbled. He just wanted this over with so they could get out of there. 

Stiles paid for the battery and alternator. Tucker handed him a receipt and they went to leave. Every hair on the back of Derek's neck stood on end at the sound of tools being knocked over. He looked back and saw Tucker still at the counter, having heard nothing.

“Earth to Derek,” Stiles mumbled. Derek’s eyes snapped to Stiles who was standing in the open doorway. “Everything okay, space cadet?”

Derek nodded and walked as calmly as he could to the car. The second the doors were shut, he rushed to leave the parking lot, his strict seatbelt rule forgotten as they drove off. 

“Derek, what the Hell,” Stiles sputtered, trying not to drop the two large boxes of parts.

“Something was wrong,” was all Derek said, making it back to Stiles’s car quickly. 

Derek got out of the car and Stiles hurried out too. “What was it,” he asked, watching Derek get tools out of his trunk. 

“I don’t know. Probably nothing,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles looked at Derek like he was going actively growing another head. “First you asked if someone else was there and then your Spidey sense screams get out ? I don’t think that constitutes nothing,” he rambled, watching as Derek popped the hood of the jeep.

Derek growled, “are you going to help or just talk,” and took the new battery from Stiles’s hands.

Stiles did help, meaning he held the tools and screws while Derek changed the alternator. Stiles made a comment about Derek abundance of practice fixing cars because of his own junker. Derek told him to shut up and, fuck him, if the sight of Derek sweating with engine grime on his hands wasn’t hot.

Derek changed the battery and Stiles almost died laughing when he wiped the silicon grease off the battery– which was silver with a slight sparkle to it– off his hands and onto his shirt and then used the same part of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

Stiles and Derek went to the Stilinski house when they’d finished fixing the car since it was almost time for Sheriff to get home anyway. 

Derek spent a good thirty minutes grumbling about the grease not coming out of his shirt before Stiles took pity and fished around for something Derek could wear. Stiles dragged him upstairs and threw a shirt at him. Derek pulled on the shirt Stiles gave him and looked down at it skeptically.

“This is mine,” Derek said.

Stiles snorted, “very astute, big guy.”

“Why do you have my shirt,” Derek asked, looking at Stiles quizzically.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Stiles said flippantly, leaning back in his chair but Derek didn’t miss the blush on his face. “I stole it one night when I ran out of clothes at your house and forgot to give it back.”

Their oh-so-witty banter went back and forth for a few more minutes before Stiles got caught on a tangent and started rambling. Derek found himself half-listening as Stiles talked, the jumble of words calming in a way.

He didn’t know how long it was before Derek heard Sheriff close the front door. He listened closely as Sheriff wandered around downstairs. 

“Your dad’s here,” he said, cutting off Stiles’s rambling.

Stiles froze like he’d been pulled out of a trance, not quite caught up to reality yet. At last, he sighed. “Guess I better tell him what I spent on the jeep today,” he said and got up.

Derek followed Stiles downstairs and into the kitchen. Noah nodded to Stiles and Derek, shoving a sandwich in his mouth.

“You’ll never guess what happened to me today,” Stiles said blandly, making it rather obvious it would be an easy guess.

Noah swallowed his sandwich and looked at Stiles. “Hope it wasn’t the jeep breaking down. It won’t get fixed anytime soon at Armor,” he mumbled, taking another bite and Stiles looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean? I just went by there today,” Stiles said, glancing at Derek. 

Noah’s eyes went wide and he looked between the two boys for any sign of a joke. He set his plate down. “You were there today? When?”

“I don’t know, an hour or two ago,” Stiles shrugged.

“Tucker Cornish was found dead there today,” he said and this time it was Stiles who was waiting for the joke’s punchline. 

“Like, dead-dead?”

“What other type of dead is there,” Derek asked, looking at Stiles like he was crazy.

“Yes, Stiles. He was crushed by a car in the garage. The hydraulic lift failed,” Noah told him. 

Derek walked into the house and had barely closed the door behind him when Cora slid around the corner. Her smile fell to confusion as she saw Derek. She smelled the air again, just to be sure, and glared at Derek.

“You smell like Stiles,” Cora said suspiciously. Derek’s heart rate spiked and she raised her eyebrow. “Why do you smell like Stiles?”

“The jeep broke down,” Derek told her, which was true. “I gave him a ride to the mechanic.” Also true.

“This is more than in the same car smell,” Cora said– very accusatory, Derek might add. “What else did you do with Stiles?”

Derek shrugged, looking over Cora’s shoulder instead of at her. “Fixed the jeep. Sat and talked until his dad got home.”

“Ah ha! You were in his room, weren’t you,” she declared, looking him over, and smirked. “Those aren’t the clothes you left in this morning…” Her smirk slowly fell, changing to disgust and outrage. “Those aren’t the clothes you wore to school.”

Derek went pale. “Cora, It isn’t—”

“—I swear to god! You—”

“—what it looks like! I’m not—”

“— better not be screw—” 

Derek covered Cora’s mouth with his hand so she wouldn’t be yelling false accusations. “Cora,” he whispered, “listen to me. I am not doing anything with Stiles. We changed his battery and the anti-seize grease– the sparkly silver shit on the battery terminals– got on my shirt. It’s in my bag, I can show you,” he explained. “If I move my hand, are you going to stop yelling?”

Cora nodded, licking Derek’s hand for good measure. She cringed, the taste of grease on her tongue. She regretted it more when Derek rubbed the saliva on his hand over her face. She yelled, alternating between pushing at his arm and punching him till he stopped. 

“That was disgusting,” Derek grumbled.

“You’re telling me,” Cora cringed, using her shirt to wipe her face. “If your shirt’s in your bag, where did this,” she gestured to what he was wearing, “come from?”

“Stuff Stiles wore and never gave back,” Derek said, trying to keep his smirk to a minimum.

“Oh and I bet you’re just preening at that,” Cora rolled her eyes.

Cora finally let Derek go and he escaped to his room. He found himself taking deep breaths, taking in the last bit of Stiles’s smell before it faded away. Okay, so maybe Derek had liked it a little bit but he totally wasn’t preening .

Chapter Text

Stiles was gathering his stuff to go study with Cora and Scott. He was in the middle of unplugging his computer cord to take with him when his phone started to ring. He sat up, whacking his head on the underside of his desk. 

“Ack! Shit,” he huffed, rubbing his head as he carefully got up to retrieve his phone. His dad was calling so he put it on speaker and went back to gathering his stuff. “Hey, what’s up,” Stiles shot off.

“Please tell me you’re at the Hales,” Sheriff sighed, sitting in his patrol car and rubbing his head.

“Uh, about to head that way. Why,” he asked, listening closer. 

He could hear the radio of the police car. He practically shit his pants when a call came through the radio. “Officer Parrish responding to the reported one-eighty-seven.” A murder. A one-eighty-seven was a murder.

“Because there— No. I’m not telling you because I know you. I’m not…” Noah sighed. “Why don’t you stay at Scott’s tonight?” That’s not good. What is going on right now? Why is all the shit happening now? 

Stiles’s phone rang in his hand. He looked and saw Scott’s name. “Scott’s calling me right now, actually.”

“Good. Stay out of trouble,” Noah said before he hung up so Stiles could answer Scott.

“Dude! Bad things are going on! Not good, very bad thing, Stiles,” Scott yelled into the phone. “Talia is gathering the pack, that’s how bad this is,” he said. “I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Should I pack a bag,” Stiles asked, his bewilderment growing.

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe? Just to be safe,” Scott said. “I’ll be to you in five!”

Scott hung up and Stiles was losing his FUCKING mind! Could someone give him a solid answer about what was happening? Just one! He dropped his phone on the bed and started to pack a bag for the night. He set the bag to the side and looked at his jackets. It was a fairly cool night, it being January and all, so he might as well grab a jacket. He grabbed a jacket and pulled it on over his plaid over-shirt. 

He sat back on his bed and waited, something he was not good at, meaning he was on his feet and pacing in seconds. He kicked something metal and paused, leaning down to grab it. He pulled a metal bat out from under his bed and smirked. Even better than his wood one, at least until he got a bat made of mountain ash.

Scott, true to his word, knocked on Stiles’s window five minutes after he hung up. Stiles shoved the window open and Scott jumped in. “Hey man,” Scott said, sounding relieved to see Stiles. He put a hand on Stiles’s shoulder and sighed. 

“Taking the jeep,” Stiles asked, picking up his bag and the bat.

“Do I look like I drove here,” Scott joked.

Stiles smirked. “You don’t look like you did anything thanks to that Anti-asthma werewolf gene,” he said.

“Ya, I guess,” Scott said. “We really need to go, though.”

“Yup,” Stiles nodded, following Scott out.

They took the stairs down and loaded up in the jeep. Stiles started her up and they were on their way to the Hales’ house. 

“So, what are we dealing with,” Stiles asked. “Another rogue werewolf? A pack? Hunters?”

Scott looked out the window. “Worse,” he mumbled and Stiles looked between his friend and the road. “It already killed Isaac’s dad.”

“Dude! You can’t just leave it at that,” Stiles yelled.

“Talia called it a Kanima,” Scott said. “It apparently happens when the werewolf transformation goes wrong.”

“I thought you just died if it goes wrong,” Stiles said, slightly freaking out.

“No, it’s confused. It doesn’t know who it is,” Scott explained. “If we figure out who it is, it should become a normal ‘wolf.”

Stiles groaned. “Fine,” he huffed. “Why can’t the plan just be to kill it?”

“Stiles,” Scott said seriously, “who was recently attacked by an alpha?”

“Some random jogger– Bennett something– but he died,” Stiles sighed, shaking his head.

“Who else?”

“Uh…” Stiles thought and then he understood. “Fuck, you don’t mean those two teens, right?”

“Exactly,” Scott nodded. “Teenagers. Our classmates.”

“Tell me what’s so wrong with the kill-it plan,” Stiles asked, pulling into the Hales’ driveway, and Scott shook his head.

“We are not killing it,” Scott said, getting out of the jeep. 

Stiles grabbed his stuff and walked into the house with Scott. They were met at the door by Cora.

“Stiles votes for the kill it plan too,” Cora said, stupid fucking werewolf hearing. 

“For the last time, we are not killing anybody,” Talia huffed, looking like it wasn’t the first or the tenth time she’d heard that– probably Peter and maybe Malia. She ushered the group of teens into the living room with everyone else including Lydia. 

“I thought you said the whole pack, this isn't even the whole puppy pack,” Stiles said, looking at Scott.

“Puppy pack,” Scott asked.

“Ya, all the kids,” Stiles said. “Most of the cousin’s aren’t even here.”

“That would be because We gathered the trouble children,” Peter interjected. “The others are well behaved enough not to go outside when there’s a murderous Kanima on the loose.”

“And what’s it say that your daughter is one of the ‘trouble children’,” Stiles asked. 

“The same thing as the Alph’s own children being here: they want to help keep others safe,” Peter told him. “I never said it was a bad thing, just that your flight risks.”

“Peter, stop antagonizing them,” Talia said. “Everyone, sit down.”

“What’s the plan,” Cora asked, stopping in front of her mom.

“If you would sit down, I’ll tell everyone the plan,” Talia repeated, sounding more irritated. 

She waited until all of the teens had sat down, and counted them off. 

“The plan is, you pups stay here and the adults will deal with the issue. The twelve of us will patrol and capture the Kanima. Once captured, we will be able to remind it of who it is,” Talia said, using the alpha voice. “You are all to stay here and not leave until we have captured the Kanima.”

“One moment, dear sister,” Peter said, holding up a finger. “Who are we to say no to more help? It has no scent so we can’t track it. Even with the twelve people we have now, we can hardly cover the entire town.”

“What are you suggesting, Peter? We send children to look for it,” Talia asked, her lips in a tight frown.

“We would be able to cover more ground and it would be a great test of their training,” Peter said. “If you felt so inclined, we could even send an adult or two with them.”

Talia legitimately growled at her brother. Stiles leaned back into the couch. He’d never actually heard Talia growl at someone. “No. They stay here where they are safe,” she said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Didn’t you say you need an emotional connection to turn it back? Which one of you has that,” Lydia asked, looking completely bored as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. 

“The girl has a point and aren’t you the one who says to always listen to a banshee’s warnings,” Peter asked Talia.

“Oh,” Lydia raised her hand to stop them, “no premonitions of death here. I just think it’s a stupid plan.”

Talia took a breath and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I agree with the banshee.”

“The banshee has a name,” Lydia interjected again.

Talia nodded. “Yes, miss Martin, I’m aware,” she said, giving Lydia a tight smile. She turned to the lot of teenage werewolves. “ If I allow you pups to go, you will stay in groups AND have adult supervision.” She waited for nods of agreement before looking around at them. This bunch had too many wildcards. They were all far too young. 

“Boyd, Malia and Cora will go with Hannah to help,” she took a breath, not able to believe what she was doing. “You will help patrol the Square.”

“Where? That’s a big area,” Malia asked and Talia cringed.

“The busy areas,” Talia said.

Peter stepped in beside his sister. “The party scene. It is a weekend.”

Cora held back a laugh. “Mom, are you telling us to go to the Jungle and the Sinema?”

Peter chuckled. “Of course not, you two can’t go to the Jungle, Ethan and—”

“Peter,” Talia growled, stopping him. “Ethan and Aiden will go… there  with Alexander and Ahlai.” She looked over the group, unsure how to divide the rest. “Derek and Scott will go to the high school with Abram and Louisa. That means… Erica and Isaac can stay here with Stiles, Lydia, and Adam in case it comes looking for us.”

“What,” Erica objected, “that’s so not fair! Most of them are going clubbing and I have to stay here?”

“Ya and why do I have to stay here,” Stiles said. “I can help too!”

"You can’t help if you get yourself killed," Peter said. "But, I'm sure you make wonderful live bait."

"Like, zoinks. Live bait," Stiles said, looking at Scott and doing his best Shaggy impression. "What do ya think, Scoob?"

"Pretty sure we're more Scooby Natural than Scooby-Doo," Scott said with a smile. 

"Look, I can be plenty helpful! I'm the only one who can use mountain ash," Stiles declared, turning to Talia and Peter.

"So can Lydia and the Argents," Peter smirked. "All of whom have a way to defend themselves. And you have a bat , correct?"

"Hey! You have claws, I have a bat," Stiles said, crossing his arms.

"Is the bat, by chance, made of mountain ash? Laced or wrapped with wolfsbane? Perhaps mistletoe?"

"No but you might find that your cologne is soon," Stiles told him with a glare.

Peter looked at Stiles consideringly. “Perhaps we should let him go…”

“What,” Talia and Stiles both blurted out, with very different tones mind you. Talia was irritated and confused while Stiles was about 90% sure Peter was hoping he’d get hurt.

“We could send out all three. As I said, Lydia is a banshee and Aillison is a hunter. They could help the untrained pups were they to come across the Kanima,” Peter explained to Talia.

“And Stiles,” Talia asked him.

“I’m right here, guys,” Stiles sighed. He hated it when they talked about him like he wasn’t there.

Peter smirked in that annoying way only he could. “I said before, he could be live bait. I say we send the Hunters to the Square.”

Talia seemed conflicted but nodded and left the room to make a call. She returned shortly after and cleared her throat. “Chris Agent has… reluctantly agreed to help survey the Jungle and Allison will join Hannah, Cora, Malia, and Boyd.”

Cora huffed, rolling her eyes. 

“Roll your eyes any harder and they might fall out,” Stiles snickered.

“What about us,” Erica objected. “Do you still expect me to stay here with Isaac and Stiles?”

Talia looked around at the groups. Ideally, she’d be able to keep Cora, Scott, and Stiles in different groups while also separating Scott and Isaac, Cora and Erica, Erica and Boyd, and Stiles and Derek. Letting romantic feelings or arguing or banter distract you never ends well in a risky situation. “Erica, you will join Lydia, Peter, and me. Isaac will go with Boyd’s group and Stiles…” she cringed. “You go with Scott and Derek.” 

Talia looked over the kids, debating her decisions. Each of the groups would have a trained werewolf with them while Scott, Stiles, and Derek would be on their own. She couldn’t justify splitting the other groups to add another reckless pup. Talia told herself the three were going to the empty high school where the Kanima was unlikely to be and Abram would be with them. Abram had trained Talia so surely he could control her more unruly set. 

When the adults of the pack had arrived, Talia had to take them into her office to explain what she had done.

“Talia, please tell me you’re joking,” Hannah said. “They’re babies!” 

Hannah was eight years older than Talia and, had she chosen too, very well could have challenged Taila’s claim to being the Alpha. She had originally intended to challenge the title but found a love for medical work in college that took up too much of her time. 

Talia had given her Boyd, Isaac, Malia and Cora to look after with Chris Argent’s help. Hannah was able to keep a level head in most any situation. She did what she knew was right, even if it cost her. She knew Hannah would protect them at all costs.

“I’m aware,” Talia told her firmly. “That’s why I’m sending them places the Kanima will likely not go. It has been smart to stay out of crowds and seems to prefer the act of surprise. That would hardly be possible in such a high traffic area.”

“They won’t be safe regardless,” Ahlai said. “Even if the kanima hasn’t attacked in crowds before, you never know who its next target will be.”

Louisa nodded, stepping forward. “Exactly. How do we know those weren’t just warm ups? The master decides who is killed, not the beast.”

“That beast is a child,” Talia told them. “I have listened to your arguments but I refuse to allow you to think of a teenager as a monster. They are lost and confused or they’d be a werewolf just like us. They have no control in this, which is why we plan to save them.”

“How else do you expect them to learn if they’re never taught,” Chris Argent piped up, earning distrustful glares from most of the room.

“As much as I hate to admit it, the hunter is right.” Abram stepped forward, giving Talia a proud smile. “I think it’s a smart choice. We can train them on a familiar opponent in low risk areas. Build their confidence a little.” He looked at Alexander, “you of all people should be on board. You were fourteen when I took you on your first hunt.”

“Well, while you’re giving out praise, it should be mentioned that Talia took some convincing on the idea,” Peter said, stepping forward to be even with Talia instead of behind her. “I was the one to suggest it.”

“Could you be any more of an entitled ass,” Chris said, looking at Peter.

Once all arguments had been heard and addressed, it was decided that they would take the pups with them on patrol this once. 

“Be smart. Be vigilant and be safe,” Talia told the pack before watching the groups head out of the house. 

"Well gang, let's split up and look for clues," Stiles declared, leading the way to Derek’s car.

“What have we done…” Talia mumbled. This was going to go badly.

Stiles sat in the back seat of the car, waiting for the all-clear. 

“This is bull shit. I could wander around the empty school looking for the Kanima too,” Stiles grumbled, checking his phone again, “but nooooooo. Damn ‘wolves say I have to stay in the car .”

He heard a metallic clang and looked up. He didn’t see anything. Stiles leaned into the front seat and looked out the windows. He did a double take, looking out the passenger window. 

Stiles bit his lip, trying not to make any noise. He was barely breathing. He sunk into the backseat, hiding on the floor. He texted Scott and Derek that the Kanima was outside but it wouldn’t go through. A string of curses ran through his head. 

He grabbed his bat off the seat, chewing his lip. Talia said something about mirrors or reflections. The Kanima made a noise and Stiles tensed. He tried to hype himself up to make a break for it. It was do-or-die time. 

Stiles slowly opened the door, thanking god the cab lights were shorted. He slipped out of the car. He peeked up to see through their car’s windows. The thing was crawling around between cars. 

Stiles took a deep breath and silently prayed he wasn’t spotted. He made a break for the front door where Scott and Derek had entered. He skidded to a stop at the doors. He tried to open the big metal door as quietly as he had the car door. Fucking figures the school’s doors would squeak. Stiles looked back and met the Kanima’s eyes that were now fixed on him.

“Oh shit,” Stiles mumbled. He threw the doors open and ran in. He pulled out his phone and started trying to call Scott. It still wouldn’t go through. Fuck the phone! He tried to put it in his pocket, looking over his shoulder to see where the thing was, and dropped his phone. The Kanima was on his heels.  

“Guys! Guys, it’s behind me,” Stiles yelled, hoping to god they weren’t paralyzed. 

He needed somewhere to barricade himself in. He found a dead end and turned to look behind him, only serving to disorient himself. He tightened his grip on the bat, trying to figure out what to do. He looked to the side and saw the science room. 

Stiles looked at the Kanima and raised his bat, smashing the glass of the classroom door. He reached through and unlocked the door. He cut himself on the glass. He winced but didn’t have time to stop anymore. He looked around, trying to figure out his next move. Dropping the bat, he rushed to the chemical cabinet. He managed to get in and started searching. 

Shit, shit, shit. What had Lydia told him? What was the stupid mixture?

Stiles frantically grabbed a bottle– white phosphorus. Ya. Ya, that was part of it, and benzene. He picked up the bottle of benzene. Then water and rubber. He could do this. He had it. Stiles tried to make the Molotov as quickly as possible without blowing himself up. He could feel the blood dripping down his arm as he worked. 

Stiles shoved the rubber stopper into the top of the flask. Fuck, he hoped this worked. He frowned at the bottle and picked up his bat. If his memory failed him, at least he had ol’ faithful. If he was going down, he was gonna go down swinging one way or another.

He leaned up against the wall and tried to slow his heart rate. It was a little hard to do when each beat was echoed by blood dripping to the floor. His mind was starting to spiral. Scott and Derek hadn’t found him yet even with his yelling and thundering heart and dripping blood. So, they were either dead or paralyzed. Stiles was really fucking holding out for the latter.

He patted his pockets for his phone, wanting to try to text Talia. He leaned his head back against the wall. No phone. Great. No werewolves. No backup. No phone. No, nothing except his brain and a bat… and a (possibly) self-igniting Molotov cocktail. 

He crept closer to the door. The Kanima would find him if he stayed so he had to run. He had to find the ‘wolves. He looked out the broken window and saw nothing. 

He pushed the door open and kept low to the ground. Why? Because it felt like a good idea, okay? Acting like he was some video game character that was basically invisible while crouched was the only thing making him feel safe at the moment. 

He started moving down the hall, back the way he came and took the turn he missed for the locker rooms. Maybe he could barricade himself in there until help arrived. When he looked behind himself he saw it. Then he felt it. The Kanima tackled him to the ground. It only had his leg so he threw the molotov at the Kanima. 

It screeched and he was able to pull away and started running. It hurt like a bitch. His leg was definitely burned pretty good and the cut on his arm didn’t exactly feel great either. Thankfully, he managed to escape without getting hit with venom but he’d definitely lost his bat.

Stiles scrambled to his feet, doing his best to get away from the thing. He looked back triumphantly when it screeched again. Stiles froze. It didn’t work. Fire didn’t work. He watched the Kanima get closer. This was it. Stiles was screwed. He swallowed hard and looked around him. He was only feet from the locker room door. 

In a last effort, he bolted for the door. It opened easily and he ducked inside. Stiles looked around for something to block the door. He managed to drag the benches over, stacking them against the door. 

He huffed, getting as far from the door as possible. He hid behind the wall for the showers. He tried to listen for any noise.

The door slammed into the benches and Stiles bit his tongue so he wouldn’t make any noise. It rammed at the door a few more times, managing to crack it open. It stuck its nose through the crack and sniffed. 

It moved away from the door and Stiles thought he was in the clear. He sighed heavily. 

He heard metal hit concrete and froze. He forgot to block the gym door. He blocked the hall door but not the gym door. Stiles swallowed hard as the kanima got closer. Stiles stayed against the wall, inching further away. As he inched along the wall, he hit the shower knock, turning on the water.

Fuck! Stiles held his breath as the kanima rounded the shower wall and growled at him.

Oh shit. 

Oh shit. 

Oh Shit.

Stiles was going to die. This was it. This was how he died– in the girls’ locker room showers, killed by a scaley green overgrown murder lizard!

It creeped closer to Stiles. When its foot touched the water, it hissed and moved away.

“Oh, you don’t like water,” Stiles asked rhetorically and started to splash some of the shower stream at the kanima. It hissed and backed away further. “Ya, how’s that feel?” Stiles smirked, just in time for the shower to turn off. “Fuck,” he mumbled, smacking at the shower knob to turn it back on.

A noise in the took the creature’s attention and, with one last hiss at Stiles, it left.

Derek, Abram, and Louisa ran through the school, looking for Stiles. Louisa was carrying Scott, the boy having been paralyzed by the Kanima. They heard running water and shared a look. The sound led them to the girls locker room. Stiles leaned against the wall, smacking the button for water. 

“Stiles, are you okay,” Abram asked, the three rushing to him.

Derek smelled the burnt skin first and pointed it out to Abram. “We need to get him out of here,” Derek said, freaking out. 

“He’s not walking out of here. One of you has to carry him,” Louisa said, listening for any noise that might signal the Kanima closing in on them.

“You do it,” Derek mumbled, too scared to touch Stiles. Cora shoved Derek away from Stiles. ‘Stop! You’re going to hurt him,’ she yelled. Derek swallowed. “You carry him and I’ll drive us back.”

Abram saw the fear in Derek’s eyes, smelled it swirling around him, and decided not to argue. “If it comes back, that means you’re going to be the first line of defense,” he told Derek, lifting Stiles’s up. “Can you do that?”

Stiles woke up in Cora’s bed. She and Scott were squeezed into the full-sized bed with him. Stiles groaned and he felt Cora stir.

“Good morning idiot,” she mumbled.

Stiles groaned, “I feel like shit.”

“Probably because you burnt the hell out of your legs,” Cora said and got up. “What do you want to eat? Coffee? Eggs? Bacon?”

Scott finally sat up. “There’s food,” he asked, giving her puppy eyes.

“Ya,” Cora said, “but you can get your own.”

“What,” Scott objected. “I’m a victim too!”

“You healed,” Cora said. “I’ll tell you about my night when I get back, cool,” she said to Stiles and he nodded. She left the room and headed down for the kitchen.

Stiles thought he was going to get some more sleep, feeling like he could sleep for years. He closed his eyes but didn’t even get to pull the blankets up before he was being poked in the side.

He sighed. “What, dude?” Stiles didn’t open his eyes but could feel Scott moving.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said. 

Stiles opened his eyes, looking at Scott like he was an alien. “Who are you and what’d you do with Scott?”

Scott smirked. “I’m serious,” he said, pushing Stiles’s arm and somehow managing to push squarely on the bandage. “Shit…” Instead of an apology, Stiles felt the pain seep away. He really liked werewolf apologies. 

Cora was back minutes later with food. She had two plates, one piled much higher than the other. She’d likely make a stink about Scott taking food off her plate but she’d purposefully gotten enough for him too.

“So, before it chased you idiots, the Kanima attacked at the Jungle! It managed to paralyze a few people– which is apparently what happens if it gets you with its tail– but it didn’t kill anyone. It was up in the rafters and Chris Argent was shooting at it! Mom and uncle Peter showed up with Lydia and it, like tried to go for her! Then Lydia screamed and it stopped. Mom thought it was even madder but uncle Peter said it was remembering or some shit. So, then after it got over Lydia screaming, it ran! It must have gone after you guys then. And you know how that went. Anyway, so now they think it’s someone that Lydia knows!”

Stiles thought about it for a second, “Wait, shit. I know who it is!”

“You do,” Scott asked through a mouth-full of food, raising an eyebrow.

“Dude, who’s the only person Lydia is close with that’s stupid enough to go into the woods when it’s off limits?”

“Uh…” Scott shrugged. 

Cora thought about it and then she understood. “Fuck, you don’t mean Jackson, right?”

“I mean Jackson,” Stiles nodded. 

“But the Kanima is that way because they don’t know who they are,” Cora argued.

“It’s totally Jackson! He does what people expect, that’s it,” Stiles said. “Remember when we were talking about the whole ‘it’s who you want to be not what you want to be’ crap? He basically said he’d be ‘the best’ and the teacher had him stay after class. When Lydia was dating him, she always complained that he wouldn't make his own decisions. Also, he’d totally go into the woods to show off to his idiot friends. It’s Jackson.”

Chapter Text

One minute Stiles and Cora were talking and, the next, she got a weird confused look. She looked at Scott and he seem just as, if not more, confused. The two wolves hurried downstairs, leaving Stiles to eat alone. 

“Jee, thanks,” Stiles mumbled. “Leave the wounded human all alone after I almost died. Really feeling the love, guys.” Stiles heard his phone buzz on the bedside table and smiled. 

He reached for his phone, moving his leg to reach further. The small movement pulled at his pants which had gotten stuck to his burns. A wave of pain washed over him accompanied by its best friend nausea. Stiles dry heaved from the pain. Apparently, the werewolf mojo was helping a lot more than he thought it was.

“Are you okay,” a tentative voice asked. Stiles didn’t answer, waiting for the sick feeling to pass. “Breath,” the voice told him. He felt a hand on his leg and the pain began to lessen.

Stiles swallowed, reassuring himself he wouldn’t barf everywhere if he opened his mouth. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

It was quiet between them, at least it was for Stiles. Derek could probably hear the whole pack. 

After a while, Stiles asked, “so, what’s the damage?”

Derek frowned. “Dad stitched up your arm– only needed one. Second-degree burns on your left leg and first-degree on your right.”

“Maybe I’ll get a cool scar,” Stiles said. “Everyone else is okay?” Derek nodded. 

Stiles’s phone buzzed again and he reached for it. This time he managed to grab it without feeling like dying. There were text notifications from their group chat, jokingly named The Golden Trio. Cora and Scott had texted him after he yelled at them. Cora had called him whiney and Scott had sent a brief ‘sorry’. The text that had just come in was from Cora. 

Stiles laughed and showed Derek the text: “remember rule #1 assholes”. He saw Derek’s mood sour and the relief was replaced by guilt. He was laughing even though Derek could’ve been killed. “Hey, man…”

“Did you hit your head,” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles frowned. “What?”

“You always call me dude, not man,” he said in a tone as close to joking as Derek got.

Stiles smirked, looking down at his plate of food. “I guess that’s true.”

After a long paused, Derek got up and started to leave. 

“By the way,” Derek paused when Stiles started talking, “thanks for saving me yesterday. I make a pretty good damsel in distress, huh,” Stiles joked.

“Who can say no to a damsel in distress,” Derek said back, fighting a smile. 

“But, hey, don’t forget Cora’s rules: you can’t fall for me,” Stiles joked, smirking at Derek.

Derek frowned, his hands clenching at his sides, but nodded in agreement. "Right," he agreed and Stiles forced his smile to stay even through the word hurt. How did one word hurt so much?

Sheriff stopped at the Hales’ house after work and drove Stiles and Scott home. Well, he took Scott to their house to help get Stiles upstairs and then drove him home. 

Stiles didn’t move except for the bathroom on Monday. There was no way he was going to school. Even the feeling of his pajamas rubbing over his burned and bandaged legs hurt. 

Cora and Scott hung out with him after school and practice. Cora, who was oh-so-nice brought him homework. Scott– who was actually nice, thank you, Cora– helped him change the bandage on his burned leg. It wasn’t as bad as he thought but it hurt. Cora did take sympathy after all of Stiles's complaining and drained some of the pain. 

They all piled into Stiles’s bed to eat a metric fuck-ton of junk food and rewatch Criminal Minds for the billionth time. 

Criminal Minds means the team and the team means Derek Morgan and that means Stiles is thinking about Derek Hale. Stiles swallowed his mouthful of licorice and looked at Cora just in time to watch her throw a whole handful of Hot Tamales in her mouth. “There is something wrong with you mentally,” Stiles told her, shaking his head.

“Ya,” she said around a mouthful of candy, “it’s called not being a little bitch.”

“Maybe I just don’t feel like killing all my tastebuds,” Stiles shot back. He sat awkwardly, looking at the screen. “So…”

Cora snickered and held a hand out to Scott. He groaned heavily and dug in his pocket, handing Cora a five-dollar bill. “Couldn’t have waited, like, two episodes,” Scott grumbled, eating another Milk Dud dejectedly. 

“Derek’s being angsty,” Cora said. “He might rip Jackson’s head off if the dude’s not careful, even if Jackson doesn’t know he’s the Kanima.”

Scott shrugged, “he picked me up for school today. He was definitely irritable then, but you and Lydia are the only ones that have classes with him.”

“It’s not just that, though,” Cora grumbled. “He’s, like, jumpy. He’s acting like you,” she told Stiles, “leg bounce and all.”

“Ha. ha. Very funny, Cor,” Stiles said, throwing a piece of popcorn at Cora.

“Hey,” Cora said, moving so she wasn’t touching Stiles anymore and, thus, not draining the pain. He cringed as her movement jostled him. “I can stop helping you. You’d be in a Hell of a lot more pain without us.”

“I’d just have liver failure from the amount of ibuprofen I’d take,” Stiles grumbled. “Actually,” he said, more to himself, “without you guys, I wouldn’t be in any pain at all because none of this would have happened!”

After Scott and Cora had left for the night, Stiles decided to send a text to Derek. Derek didn’t text back. Stiles couldn’t lie, it kind of hurt. Derek hadn’t checked in on hi and now didn’t answer Stiles’s text?

Tuesday was much the same. The burns on Stiles's leg were healed enough that he could hobble around with a hefty dose of Tylenol. Second-degree burns were no joke. It wasn’t too bad as long as he didn’t bend his leg much and why would he need to do that ? Walking is for the birds, anyway. He really wished he had crutches.

He was lost in thought after thought. Being on a near constant double-dose of Tylenol felt like a constant reminder of how much he relied on his friends. It was an unpleasant thought. He genuinely wondered if he’d be able to deal with this shit without them. Probably but it would really suck– not that he’d have to deal with said burns without the influence of certain werewolves. 

Stiles was laying in bed, fidgeting with a slinky and totally zoned out, when he heard the front door opened. He picked up his phone to check the time as whoever it was walked up the stairs. It was too early to be Scott or Cora and not even close to time for Noah to be home.

Erica stormed in with papers and Stiles was about to ask why she was there but she looked pissed. She dropped Stiles’s homework on his desk. “If you don’t talk to your fucking boyfriend, I’m gonna kill him,” she said, anger clear in her voice.

“My what,” Stiles asked. Did he take too many pain meds or something? Boyfriend? El no entiende.

“Derek,” Erica said through gritted teeth. “If he doesn’t chill, I’m going to skin him. He fucking got in my face for saying it was your smart-ass idea that got you burnt in the first place– which it WAS!”

When his brain rebooted, it took a second for Stiles to comprehend what Erica was saying, then his subconscious had to laugh at how impossible that was before responding. “Erica, I’m not dating Derek,” Stiles told her.

“Well, someone needs to tell him that,” she yelled, storming out.

Stiles shrugged, throwing his hands in the air. “Great to see you too…”

He sighed and looked at the stack of papers Erica had dropped off. That was a problem for later-Stiles. Now-Stiles was still trying to figure out why Derek being pissy was his fault. 

Again, he texted Derek. It was funny, Stiles asking if Derek was okay when Stiles was the injured party. 

Again, Derek didn’t answer. Fucking radio silence. Nothing. Kinda shitty for someone who was supposed to be a friend. Stiles couldn’t help but make excuses for Derek, though. Maybe he was struggling with the Kanima incident too. 

About an hour later, the front door opened and Cora yelled through the house, “if Derek doesn’t fucking cool it, I’m going to kill him!”

Stiles laughed and stood up. He took a deep breath, trying to deal with the pain. He’d talked himself into feeling like shit for using his friends’ ability to drain the pain away especially since it hurt them to do it. He looked down at Cora and Scott from the top of the stairs, still unsteady from the pain.

“Funny, Erica said the same thing,” Stiles remarked, slowly and painfully descending the stairs.

Scott walked up and placed a hand on Stiles’s arm. “Careful man," he mumbled and Stiles could feel the pain start to fall away. 

"Ya, don't die," Cora added. "Your dad would kill us."

Stiles was about ninety percent sure Scott was less making sure Stiles didn't fall and more using the contact to assure himself Stiles was okay. It was less sweet than it sounded. Especially since he got banished to the living room with Scott while Cora warmed up some leftovers for them. She was decidedly less likely to set the kitchen on fire than Scott so food was on her. 

Cora handed out plates of food when it was warm. As she walked by, Cora rested a hand on top of Stiles’s head and he smiled up at her. It was something Talia did to the pack to show affection in a small way. Cora, who wasn't much for big shows of affection, did small things like that to show she cared.

When Wednesday came, Stiles was able to manage most of the pain with Tylenol. God bless werewolf-pain-drain-powers. He'd probably still be laid up and miserable if not for them. No matter how much of a godsend it was at the moment, he’d decided he wasn’t going to let them keep doing it. 

That morning, he stuffed the bottle of Tylenol in his backpack before he went to pick up his friends. He stopped at the Hales’ house to pick up Cora and saw Derek’s car was already gone.

Cora hurried out of the house, jumping in the jeep. “Oh, thank god you’re upright. I don’t think I could have survived another day of Derek’s man period or whatever’s wrong with him,” she huffed, setting her bag between her feet. “No Scott?”

“He wasn’t home. Obviously, you didn’t go with Derek,” Stiles asked her. “Were you planning to walk?”

“As if,” Cora scoffed. “He left at, like, five to– and I quote– burn off some energy.”

Stiles tried to forget about it but school was weird too. It was like Derek was avoiding him. He wasn’t in any of the places Stiles saw him every day. He never passed Stiles in the hall and he never walked into the cafeteria. He almost didn't believe that Derek was at school but they had fifth period together.

Stiles walked into AP calculus and there he was. Derek was in his normal seat. He kept his eyes trained on his book even though he knew Stiles had walked in. It was fucking ridiculous! How hard had Derek tried to avoid him knowing they had class together? It actually pissed Stiles off.

Even so, Stiles walked over. He walked past his normal seat by Lydia and sat in the empty chair next to Derek. Still, he didn’t look at Stiles.

Stiles rolled his eyes."Hi Stiles. It’s good to see you back," Stiles mumbled harshly, pulling his book and homework out of his bag. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain from those second-degree burns? Did you get all the homework? Did it make sense after missing two days of class," he said, glaring at Derek. He was looking everywhere but at Stiles. "Oh, Derek! How nice of you to ask even though you were radio silent for two days and have been avoiding me." Stiles waited for Derek to say something but he only hid his face more. "To tell you the truth, it hurts like a fucking bitch. Especially in PE since I don’t have a note to excuse me from that shit," Stiles told him and he saw Derek wince. Finally, some reaction. "I’m pretty sure half of the scabs have ripped open. I can feel—" 

Stiles stopped talking, his breath catching in his throat, as Derek’s leg bumped him. He wanted to rear around and punch the asshole… until the pain started to dissipate. Stiles sighed, closing his eyes. 

He didn’t let himself stay there. He pulled his leg away– a little too quick– and bit his lip. The whole sitting thing was hard since bending his knees still hurt like fresh Hellfire.

Derek clenched his jaw. Stiles didn’t even want to touch him. Derek blamed himself and now he was sure Stiles did too. What happened was his fault for splitting up. He felt like such an ass for letting Stiles get hurt. All he ever did was hurt Stiles. He told himself to stay away so it wouldn’t happen again. He wanted Stiles to stay away, that was what he wanted, so why was it this hard not to be around Stiles?

Derek keeping his eyes trained on the board so he wouldn't see how Stiles chewed his pencils. He tried to breathe through his mouth to ignore how comforting the smell of Stiles being there was. He tried to focus on the teacher's words instead of Stiles’s heartbeat or how he mumbled to himself as he took notes. He tried to ignore how much he wanted to pull Stiles closer. 

Stiles had made it very clear; Derek wasn’t allowed to fall for him and, if that wasn’t clear enough, he’d pulled away from Derek’s help even though he was clearly in pain. It might already be too late for Derek. Even so, he tried to ignore how he felt. It was so much harder to ignore the feelings when Stiles was right there. The only way Derek could stop himself from falling further was to avoid Stiles.

When the bell rang at the end of class, Derek practically jumped out of his seat and hurried out of the room. 

Stiles watched him leave. What the fuck was that? 

He looked around and met Lydia’s eyes. She was looking at Stiles, waiting for an explanation. Stiles packed up and walked over, leaving the room with Lydia beside him.

"Did you see that," Stiles asked her.

"Even a blind person would have noticed that," Lydia retorted. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Stiles told her. "He was fine on Sunday and I haven't heard from him since. He's been avoiding me."

"Did you say something," Lydia asked like Stiles was some idiot who would say something stupid to ruin his chances without knowing it.

Stiles shrugged. "Like what? What could I say or do to run off a Hale? Especially Derek."

Lydia shrugged. "What did you talk about on Sunday?"

"How I almost died. I joked that he saved me," Stiles mumbled.

"Maybe he just needs space to deal with what happened," Lydia offered. “He might be freaked out about the Kanima still.”

Lydia and Stiles went their separate ways for their next classes, leaving Stiles to stew in his own thoughts. He ducked into the bathroom and dug his meds out of his bag. He shook a few into his hand without counting them and popped them into his mouth. He grimaced as he swallowed them without a drink. He started back on his way to class, hoping it wasn’t obvious how bad he was hurting.

Stiles was in the hall, trying not to think about what could have happened in the last two days to cause this. He wanted to talk to Derek and figure it out but he couldn’t exactly do that if Derek wouldn't even acknowledge him. 

He heard a loud slam of a body hitting metal and cringed. That wasn’t good. Stiles, out of habit, hurried toward the noise to see if it was one of the ‘wolves. He found two.

“I just said you should call and talk to—” Isaac started and was slammed back into the lockers with a grunt.

“I know what I’m doing,” Derek growled– like actually growled. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Stiles needed werewolf assistance. He looked around the crowd, trying to spot any of the pack. Zip. Zilch. Notta. 

You’d think, with the number of teenage werewolves in the school, he would have seen at least one but no such luck. He looked back at Derek and Isaac and— Okay! No time! Derek’s eyes were starting to glow and Isaac’s shirt had growing red stains. 

Stiles ran into the fray, his leg bitching the whole time. He grabbed Derek’s wrist, moving it so he could shove himself between the two werewolves. Stiles cringed, seeing the murderous and absolutely not in control look in Derek’s eyes. 

Stiles turned his face to the side and closed his eyes, trying to block Isaac. Why was he doing this? He doesn’t like Isaac enough to risk his own hide for him! But he had to keep the secret. He had to keep it a secret to protect all of the ‘wolves.

The whispers of the crowded hall quieted. Stiles opened his eyes. He did a mental check, making sure he was still in one piece. Good news on that front, he was in no more pain than expected from his burns. Bad news: pretty much everything else. 

When he looked up at Derek, he saw the angry facade but Derek’s eyes looked like Stiles had smacked him. What did he do this time? He saved Derek’s furry ass, thank you very much! Derek backed away and Stiles turned to deal with Isaac.

He heard running and just knew it was Cora and Scott. Ya, thanks guys but Stiles handled it without werewolf powers.

“Isaac, are you okay,” Stiles mumbled.

“My shirt isn’t,” Isaac grumbled, glaring at Derek. Stiles swore Isaac started to growl before he thought better of it. 

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes. He grumbled to himself about how stupid this was and pulled off his red hoodie. He threw it at Isaac. 

“Here. Now you can play both parts. Stretch it out and I will kill you personally.” Stiles glared at Isaac. “I mean it. I will break off an extra large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freaking—”

“Whoa, Stiles, okay. We get it,” Scott said, grabbing Stiles’s arm.

Stiles turned and Derek was still just standing there, staring at him. Hey, at least he was acknowledging that Stiles existed now. Stiles looked Derek over but he didn't seem murderous anymore. “Derek, you okay dude,” Stiles asked. 

Okay? Was Derek okay? Stiles had jumped in to stop Derek from losing it and he looked scared. Stiles was scared Derek would hurt him. So, no, he was not okay. Derek looked down at his shoes and nodded. 

Stiles nodded and grabbed Isaac. Scott took Isaac’s other arm and helped take Isaac to the locker room so he could heal up. Scott called Adam Hale, filling him in. 

"Thanks," Isaac mumbled, glancing at Stiles. "For jumping between Derek and me. You shouldn't have done that for me. You could have gotten hurt…"

"I didn’t do it for you," Stiles said. He was on his phone, begging Danny to erase any and all footage of the scene. How nobody else had figured them out yet, he would never know.

"Ya…" Isaac said. "So, you and Derek—"

Stiles groaned. "Not you too. Look, I have no clue what crawled up his ass and got stuck but it's really annoying."

"You're telling me…"

"Adam will be here to get you soon," Scott said, walking back over. "What caused that blow up anyway?"

Isaac raised his eyebrows and glanced at Stiles. Scott, bless his heart, didn’t understand. How Scott managed to be so clueless and oblivious as a werewolf was a mystery.

When Isaac showed them he was all healed up, he and Scott left the locker room. Scott walked him to the office so there wouldn’t be any more trouble. He was going to sign out and head home with Adam.

Stiles swallowed a shaky breath. He rubbed his face and sighed. Fuck, he was hurting. He grabbed his bag and dug around for his pill bottle. He spilled a few into his hand. He did his best to take them without a drink again. 

He had to stop at the water fountain before heading to his next class, meeting up with Scott along the way. Stiles rubbed his arms. He’d only had the hoodie and a thin undershirt on and now he was cold. 

“What was Derek’s problem,” Stiles asked, looking at Scott. “Isaac said he needed to talk to someone and, if he meant a therapist, I second that. God, could they turn the heat up?” 

The rest of the day was filled with Stiles grumbling about being cold and how Isaac better not ruin his hoodie. 

He was making a big show of his complaints and dread on the way to science– “the coldest class in this damn school, Scott,”– when a weight was dropped on Stiles’s shoulder. He grabbed whatever it was and found himself with a leather jacket in his hand. He stopped, looking around the hall but didn’t see where it came from. Stiles looked at Scott who was looking at the jacket.

Stiles looked at the tag of the jacket, feeling the heat radiating from the inside of the thing. “Is this Derek’s,” Stiles asked. Stiles didn’t need Scott’s super senses to know the answer. It was weirdly comforting. He shrugged the leather jacket on and looked at Scott.

“Dude, you are going to smell like that thing forever,” Scott commented.

“Ya, I’m pretty sure it’s dry clean only,” Stiles said. Then he frowned. “Scott, did I just get scent-marked?”

Scott nodded. “You did just kinda do the same thing to Isaac,” he shrugged.

Stiles decided it was best to skip practice so he didn’t completely destroy what little healing his body had done. So, after his last class, Stiles drove to Hale house. Since he didn't go to practice, he got there at the same time as Derek who was, once again, avoiding Stiles like the plague. 

He got to listen in on the lecture Adam gave Derek before Talia got home. It was a doozy. It was rare to see Adam genuinely angry, especially at his kids, but he was pissed.

Talia had picked up Cora and Scott after practice. She drove Scott home and, the second the car stopped, Cora jumped out. 

She rushed into the house, looking for Derek. She looked into the kitchen and looked around the room, she could have swore Derek was in there. She looked at Stiles, ready to ask where Derek was when she noticed Stiles was wearing an all too familiar leather jacket. She ground her teeth and turned out of the room.

Cora found Derek sitting on the living room couch, staring down at his hands. She didn’t stop long enough to smell the regret and sadness filling the room. Cora grabbed Derek by the front of his shirt and pulled him up.

"WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU," Cora yelled. Stiles looked at the doorway. He didn't see so much as he heard Talia fling open the front door and run past. "LEARN HOW TO DEAL WITH YOUR GODDAMNED EMOTIONS BEFORE YOU SERIOUSLY HURT SOMEONE! WHY THE FUCK CAN'T YOU LEARN BASIC FUCKING CONTROL—"

Stiles walked out of the kitchen and toward the angry, yelling werewolves because he has no self preservation but also because they were wrong.

"CORA," Talia yelled, pulling the two teens apart. Stiles rounded the corner and saw the way Talia glared at Cora. Her eyes weren't red but they sure as Hell left no room for argument. "Go."

Cora scrunched her face, ready to argue. Stiles could practically see the anger rolling off of her. "Fine," she relented, glaring at Derek.

Stiles ducked back around the corner, grabbing Cora when she walked into the hall. He held a finger to his lips, listening to Talia.

Talia took a deep breath, crossing her arms. "Derek, what's been going on with you lately? You were doing so well and now…"

Derek shook his head, chewing his lip. "I don't know."

"Sure," Talia said, not believing him for a second. "I know you don't want to talk about it but you're losing control. Is it what happened with the kanima?"

He huffed, rolling his eyes. Derek looked to the side, remembering the shit show of a night. 

He knew Stiles liked him and he thought that it have made them closer and maybe something would happen. Then Stiles told him not to and now it was all a mess because he wanted to be with Stiles but he said no and Derek wanted to respect that but it was hard to get over what he felt. But with Stiles always being around and sitting next to him in class and talking to him and being so close, it was driving him insane! So he tried avoiding Stiles but that upset him and Derek didn’t know what else to do. Then Isaac and Erica pointed out how close he and Stiles were now and it just— it was too much to deal with! And what happened after… It was frustrating and confusing. So, ya, maybe Derek was losing it a little bit.

"Ah, that," Talia frowned, cupping Derek’s cheek in her hand. "And talking about it is out of the question?”

“Already did,” Derek mumbled.

That confused Talia. “You did,” she asked and Derek nodded. “As much as that sucks, you still lost control at school and put us all at risk and you hurt Isaac. You’re very lucky it was Isaac. Can you imagine what would have happened if it had been a human? Or, god forbid you’d accidentally hurt Stiles when he was trying to help?” 

Derek already thought about that and just the thought made him feel guilty. He shrunk into himself. “I know,” he whispered. He did. He’d been tearing himself apart for it all afternoon. 

“I’m really disappointed and more than a little mad. This shouldn’t happen,” Talia told him, keeping her voice calm. “If you don’t learn to control your temper, I’m going to personally homeschool you,” Talia told him sternly. “You’re running laps. Go.”

Hearing the end of the conversation, Stiles quickly pulled Cora to the kitchen so they wouldn’t be seen eavesdropping. Talia had been too mad in the moment to tell so Stiles was banking on that.

Stiles stopped and Cora glared at him, crossing her arms. He could tell she was about to say something. "Shut up and listen," Stiles told her. "I jumped in the middle. As soon as I did, Derek chilled the fuck out."

Cora scoffed. “Ya, I’m sure he did. You know better than anyone that Derek is absolute shit at controlling the shift! He always has been.”

“He’s never hurt anyone on propose,” Stiles scoffed. 

******************

Cora startled awake in bed, bumping Stiles. He started to wake up slowly, the sound of crying carrying through the house. Stiles sat up and looked at Cora but she wasn’t crying. 

“Come on,” Cora whispered, climbing out of bed and Stiles followed after. 

The two six-year-olds peeked out of Cora’s room and saw a light on down the hall. They moved closer and stopped at the doorway to Derek’s room. Talia was sitting on the bed and holding the little boy, trying to soothe him. It was the first time he’d ever shifted. The room was a mess. He’d ripped his pillow and blankets in his sleep, sending stuffing everywhere. The worst of the damage was to an old stuffed ragdoll. 

Derek reached for what was left of the doll but couldn’t reach from his mother’s hold. Stiles stepped forward in the room and picked it up. He held to doll out to Derek, eyes going wide when he looked at him. Derek must have clawed himself in his sleep too. Talia had tried to wipe away the remaining blood but his face and arms were tinted red. 

Derek reached for the doll with clawed fingers. He cut Stiles on accident. Stiles yipped in pain, both boys watching as it started to bleed. Stiles’s eyes welled with tears and Derek cried more. He mumbled apologies through tears, hiding against his mom.

“Oh, shoot,” Talia sighed, looking down at Stiles. She carefully took his hand to look at the small nick. “Cora, baby, go get Daddy. He’s in Mommy and Daddy’s room with sissy.”

******************

Stiles wandered through the house, looking for Derek. He was told the get him for lunch. He opened the door to the small library and smirked when he saw Derek in the corner. He was wearing noise-canceling headphones and deep in focus as he tried to read a book written in Spanish. He didn’t even notice Stiles walking in. 

Stiles, in all of his nine-year-old brilliance, decided he was going to scare Derek. 

Stiles crept closer and closer. When he was right behind Derek, he snatched Derek’s headphones and yelled “boo!”

Derek jumped up, reaching around and shoving the person behind him. He pulled back quickly when he realized it was Stiles but it was too late. Stiles fell back harshly, hitting his head on a bookshelf.

“Shit sorry,” Derek said, squatting down beside Stiles. “Are you okay? I didn’t even think—”

Cora opened the door to look for Stiles and Derek. She was Stiles on the ground and rushed over. “Are you okay,” she asked. Cora glared at her brother, “what did you do,” she said harshly.

“I’m fine! Just a bump,” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his head.

******************

After their tenth birthday party, Stiles and Cora were out in the backyard climbing trees. They kept daring each other to go higher and higher. They were at least ten feet up and still pushing further.

Laura and Derek had been put in charge of making sure they didn’t die while Talia and Adam cleaned up inside.

“I’m going to plug my phone in,” Laura said as she stood up. “Are you good to watch them alone for a bit?”

Derek rolled his eyes, looking up from his book. “I’m fully capable of watching them.”

“Aw, even without your big sister’s help,” Laura teased.

“You’re not that much older than me,” he grumbled. “They can almost watch themselves at this point.”

“Fine,” Laura said and turned to go inside.

Cora looked up at the branches above them. She smiled and asked, “how far from the top do you think we are?”

Stiles hummed, looking up. “I think… maybe eight feet,” he shrugged.

“I dare you to go up to that branch,” Cora said, pointing to a rather thin branch three feet above them.

Stiles smirked, “I bet I can do it faster than you,” he said.

“As if,” Cora yelled. She moved to a better position to start climbing. Stiles saw her moving and got ready too. “Ready… Set… GO!”

Stiles and Cora scrambled to climb higher, faster. Cora pulled herself along easily until she looked down. She froze while Stiles kept climbing. 

“I think we’re too high,” Cora said nervously, looking for Stiles. 

Stiles laughed, looking down at Cora. “Scardy-wolf,” he said, reaching for a branch above him. As he rested his weight on the branch below him, he heard a crack. Stiles didn’t have a second to think before he was falling. 

The sound pulled Derek and Cora’s attention. Derek jumped up, running to the tree. He didn’t get there in time. Stiles hit the ground with a loud crack. Derek dropped to the ground beside him. Stiles was awake but his arm was visibly broken and he was crying.

Derek did the only thing he could think of. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he told Stiles. He placed a careful hand just above the break and tried to focus. “You’re okay Stiles,” he whispered. He took a deep breath, trying to remember what Talia had taught him. He focused on Stiles, and helping him. 

Derek felt a sharp pain start to run up his arm. He lost control, shifting from the pain. He gripped Stiles harder, his claws puncturing his skin. Stiles tried to jerk away from the pain and caused himself even more. Derek forced himself to focus again and it worked. He could feel Stiles’s pain running up his arm as dissipating. 

Cora hit the ground and shoved Derek away. “Stop! You’re going to hurt him,” she yelled, seeing the bleeding punctures from Derek’s claws. “Mom! Help, Stiles got hurt!”

******************

Talia walked into the kitchen and did a double-take to make sure Derek was outside because it smelled like him. She looked around the room and paused, her eyes catching on Derek’s jacket wrapped around Stiles. She shook her head and moved to get a cup of coffee.

“Derek could have hurt you again! Just because he got a grip doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hurt you! You should have gotten one of us. I could have helped,” Cora said, looking at Stiles. Apparently, her comment about Stiles being ripped to pieces got to her too because it was more than just anger in her words. 

“Cora,” Talia sighed. She ran her hand through her daughter’s hair, resting her hand on her neck. “You are not your brother’s keeper. You and Scott ran to help. That’s all you could do.”

“But what about Stiles,” Cora asked. He looked at her. He must have magically turned invisible when Talia walked in since Cora’s acting like he wasn’t there.

Talia chuckled. “That was for Derek,” she said, a mischievous edge to her voice. “You know Derek wouldn’t hurt Stiles.” She looked at Stiles and winked, “none of us would.”

“That’s a lie,” Stiles said, glaring at Cora. “Both Cora and Laura have tried to drown me at least once.”

Cora gasped, glaring right back at Stiles. “As if you haven’t attempted to murder me!”

“I have not!”

“That’s crap! You put wolfsbane in my perfume!”

“It wouldn’t have killed you and you put itching powder in my bed!”

“Because you put mountain ash around my lacrosse gear!”

“Then maybe don’t take my stuff,” Stiles said.

Talia sipped her coffee, looking out the doorway and trying to tune the bickering out. She hummed, watching Isaac slink pass in an attempt to avoid confrontation. “Is Isaac wearing your red hoodie,” she asked, the question obviously meant for Stiles.

“Huh? Oh, ya. His shirt was all bloody and ripped,” Stiles said blandly, still looking at Cora. She looked at him with wide eyes. Stiles thought about what he said and mentally kicked himself.

“How did Isaac’s shirt get messed up,” Cora asked, the protective air rebuilding around her.

“Nothing. Something in gym,” Stiles shrugged. 

“Lier,” Cora declared, standing up. “What happened to Isaac’s shirt? Was it Derek?”

“I didn’t want you to freak out! I’m fine,” Stiles said, grabbing Cora’s arm. “It’s done. It’s over with. That’s it.” Stiles didn’t even notice himself repeating the phrasing Derek used but Talia did. She heard Stiles subconsciously mimicking Derek.

Talia looked at the two. “Cora, sit down,” she said. Cora didn’t listen immediately, more riled up than her mother expected. “Sit,” Talia repeated, using the ‘I’m the alpha’ tone. Cora looked to her mom and sat down, slouching out of irritation. “Start from the beginning, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged, throwing his hands up as emphasis. “Nothing! It wasn’t a big deal. I fixed it and everyone’s fine now,” Stiles told the two women. “I saw a problem. I fixed a problem. Score one for the human.”

Cora scoffed. “Even if you didn’t lie, I know when you aren’t telling the full truth,” she grumbled, glaring at her best friend. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“I’m not in court,” Stiles retorted.

“Oh, yes you are,” Cora chuckled blandly. “You’re in werewolf court.”

Stiles met Cora’s glare. He managed to start an impromptu staring contest and then proceeded to lose. “Fine! I hear someone get slammed into a locker so I went to see if it was one of ours. Spoiler: it was Derek and Isaac. I saw Derek shove him into the lockers again and didn’t see any ‘wolves. Derek’s eyes were glowing so I knew something had to be done! So I shoved Derek’s arm away from Isaac,” Stiles’s stomach turned at that detail, “–which might have done more damage than good now that I think about it– and got between them,” he explained. “Derek calmed down pretty quickly but Isaac was still bleeding and his shirt was less of a shirt and more of a rag, so I gave him my hoodie instead of letting him walk around bloody.”

“You’re an idiot,” Cora said, still trying to wrap her head around the idea.

“Did you want me to let Derek gore Isaac in front of half the school,” Stiles asked in return.

“He would have healed,” Cora countered.

“Which was why I stopped it,” he said quickly. “How would we have explained that Isaac got gutted and healed up in minutes?”

“I don’t know! Call it…” Cora tried to think, “a drama club performance! I don’t care. The people in that school are stupid, the whole town is!” She pointed to the door. “Uncle Peter has been taking us trick or treating for years in his beta shift! Do you remember how many people told him the costume sucked? Or the year mom put Derek in charge of candy duty and he did the same thing? Little kids made fun of him!”

“To be fair, he does look pretty stupid without eyebrows,” Stiles said. “It’s, like, his thing. That and the jacket. Derek without eyebrows is like Laura without the Camaro or you without Lacrosse or Isaac without a scarf or Jackson without an attitude or Lydia without a manicure or Peter without his pretentious attitude or—”

“Okay,” Talia sighed, smiling softly. “We get it, Stiles. You still should not have put yourself in danger but I understand the thought behind it.”

Chapter Text

Cora leaned in the doorway of Derek’s room, crossing her arms. She waited for him to acknowledge that she was there but her patience was waning. She cleared her throat and Derek glanced up from his calc homework. “Are you going to talk to him today,” Cora asked and Derek looked back at his homework without answering. Cora heard her brother’s heart rate jump and rolled her eyes. “Dude, I swear to god, you will either talk or I’ll make sure you can’t.”

Derek sighed and spun his chair to face Cora. “Why are you pushing this so hard? All of you! You all seem to think it’s your place to try and fix this.”

“He’s my best friend, asshole,” Cora told him. “It is my place to make sure he’s okay and he’s not!”

“Then maybe you should help him and stop making it my fault!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it is your fault!”

Derek scoffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, he wants nothing to do with me!”

“Oh, that is such bull shit—”

“Bull shit? I try to help and he pulls away! Literally and figuratively,” Derek said, standing up.

“Maybe if you stopped acting like helping him was a chore to be avoided,” Cora retorted.

“Don’t you dare! I have good reason to—”

“—Oh, I would love to hear—”

“—Please, you of all people should know,” Derek scoffed.

Cora huffed a laugh, looking at Derek like he was crazy. “How could this possibly be my fault when the guy he’s had a thing for all year is avoiding him?”

“As if you don’t know! Rule number one, Stilinski. Remember rule number one. Rule number one,” Derek mocked.

“That’s a fucking joke, Der,” Cora yelled. “That is so obviously a joke! Ya, I don’t particularly want Stiles dating my brother but I’d prefer it to this moping shit that you’re both doing!”

“Stiles sure didn’t sound like he was kidding,” he said coldly. “He was completely serious when he said it and I’m not going to do that shit again. I’m not– he might find me attractive, I know he does, but if that’s all there is… I can’t do it again,” Derek looked back at his desk, not ignorant to the broken edge in his voice.

“I’m going to act like you didn’t just suggest that Stiles was that superficial,” Cora said, managing her irritation. “Stiles is, like, borderline obsessed with you. He knows your class schedule, which ways you walk to class, where you eat lunch, everything. Scott and I make bets about how soon your name will come up in conversations. When he was laid up in bed, he was asking about you!” Cora glared at her brother. “Now, stop acting like a kicked puppy and talk to him!”

"SHUT UP," Derek yelled, his eyes burning gold. He reached for the nearest thing to him– his chemistry book which was rather hefty– and chucked it at her.

Cora puled the door closed just enough to avoid being hit and stuck her tongue out. She picked up the book and whistled at the deep gouges of claw marks. “Bet that’s not gonna be cheap. You really need to learn some control, Der bear.”

Cora and Derek both heard the jeep approaching. Cora glared at her brother, pointing at him. “Talk to him or I’ll make sure you can’t avoid it.”

When Stiles and Scott stopped to pick up Cora, Derek’s car was nowhere to be seen. Cora hurried out with a smile and the two boys shared a look.

“What’s got you so cheerful? Did Erica break up with her boyfriend,” Stiles asked jokingly.

“Nope,” she said, looking at Stiles and told him, “ask me where Derek’s car is.”

“Where’s Derek’s car,” he asked nervously.

Cora laughed. “Locked in the barn.” 

Stiles huffed a laugh. “Your mom took his car?”

“No,” she snickered, “Dad did.”

“You’re kidding,” Scott asked with a smile.

Cora shook her head and told him. “Oh man, he was so pissed. Derek was like ‘how am I supposed to get to school?’ and Dad said ‘with you’re two new best friends Pat and Bend’ and Derek was so confused! So dad said ‘Pat your foot and Bend your knee’.”

“Dude,” Scott said, “I love your dad.”

“Oh, but that’s not even the best part.” Cora turned in her seat to look back at Scott. “He has to share a room with Isaac for a week . Dad was five seconds away from making them a get-along shirt.”

“Speaking of shirts,” Stiles asked, putting the jeep into gear to leave for school, “did you bring a spare to paint the booth this afternoon?”

Cora pulled a tie-dyed shirt out of her bag. “Chill. I got it,” she smirked. “Scott, did you remember?”

“No,” Scott and Stiles said at the same time. Scott looked at Stiles, asking for sympathy. “I’m just going to wear my gym shirt,” Scott added. 

“Well,” Cora started, smirking evilly, “It’s a good thing I brought an extra.”

"That look never means anything good," Scott said. "I have no out, do I?"

Cora shook her head. "No chance in Hell. You should know better by now, Scottie."

Day two of being ignored by Derek at school was about as fun as putting a toothpick under your toenail and kicking a wall. 

This time, Stiles saw him in the hall, walking away as fast as he could. He’d duck into halls Stiles knew he didn’t have classes in. He tried to wait him out before third period and they were both late to class. 

Stiles was having enough issues getting around on time and trying to catch Derek didn't help. Apparently, when you stop letting the ‘wolves do their pain-drain thing, the pain they helped with before starts to come back. In other words, Stiles felt like throwing up every time his pants rubbed against his burns.

The whole situation is total bullshit, especially considering Derek was only made at Stiles for stopping him from outing a pretty big fucking secret yesterday. 

Stiles was eating lunch with Cora, Scott, and Isaac when he saw Derek speed walking through the lunchline, keeping his head down. Cora saw him too and rolled her eyes.

“Fucking idiot,” she mumbled, taking a bite of her sandwich. She elbowed Scott and he looked at her with wide eyes and a mouthful of food. “Smells a bit bittersweet in here, doesn't it,” Cora told Scott. He frowned, looking at her confusedly. She groaned and leaned forward to look at Isaac on the other side of Scott. “Bittersweet,” Cora said more irritatedly. 

Isaac took a deep breath and nodded. “He has to know, right,” Issac asked her.

Cora scoffed, “of course he does. He’s just an idiot and takes jokes literally.”

"Maybe someone should tell him it's a joke," Isaac said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"As if that'll happen," Cora huffed. " Someone can't even admit to himself it's not a joke."

"That's not the someone I was talking about," Isaac mumbled, looking away from Cora.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m being talked about right in front of me,’” Stiles asked, looking between Cora and Isaac with a glare. “And why are you even here,” he asked Isaac. “Don’t you normally sit with Boyd and Erica?”

Isaac cringed. “They’re… preoccupied at the moment,” he said, looking like he was going to be sick. 

“Where,” Cora asked with a groan. “I swear, if I have to walk through their funk to go pee, I’ll actually kill someone this time.”

“This time,” Stiles gaped. “They’ve done it at school multiple times?”

“And multiple places,” Scott added, wishing he didn’t know.

Stiles leaned against the table, trying to process the information. “So you know when anyone… What does it smell like?”

“Salty.”

“Sweaty.”

“Sweet.” 

“The duet or a solo act,” Cora asked pointedly. She leaned on the table to be closer to Stiles and look him in the eye. “Masturbation smells like sweat, desperation, and a bitter want. It’s salty and annoying– like someone wearing too much of a bad cologne. But sex? Sex smells a lot of ways. You can tell a lot of things about a couple that way. If it’s sweet like sugar, it’s new and superficial attraction. If it’s sweet like roses, it’s strong and emotional and deep. The sharper, the more nervous. But when there’s a honeyed want and something almost like cinnamon. That’s desire and admiration. It smells like candy,” Cora said seriously.

Stiles stared at her with wide eyes. “Really?”

“No,” Cora told him, rolling her eyes. “It smells like sweat and cum and the people involved. It’s always desperate and fucking nasty.”

“Love does kinda smell like roses– sweet too,” Scott said.

"Thanks for softening the blow, buddy." Stiles gave Scott a light-lipped smile. 

Cora, Isaac, and Scott talked about random things and Stiles found his thoughts wandering. Love smelled sweet and, as he’d heard Scott say before, pain smelled sour– almost bitter… Bittersweet… Cora said it smelled bittersweet but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at—

Stiles looked around the lunch room. Where was Derek?

When Stiles walked into fifth period, he sat next to Derek again. When he noticed, Derek scooted his chair so he was sitting as far from Stiles as he could. Derek was still ignoring him but it seemed more timid this time, as if he were trying to take up as little space as possible as far away as he could. It was like he was scared of touching Stiles or something. Stiles rolled his eyes even though it hurt for Derek to so obviously avoid him. Fucking moody ass werewolves.

“Dude, you are one strong gust of wind and an awkward mouth-covering away from being called Edward Cullen, got it, Wolfman,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“Holly shit, that’s the most Derek reaction I’ve gotten out of you yet,” Stiles joked. “Is this about what your mom said?”  Stiles saw how Derek tensed. “She makes it sound like I can’t handle my own.”

The teacher called for everyone’s attention and started his lecture. Stiles’s attention span lasted all of thirty seconds.

“You know,” Stiles whispered, “everyone’s saying you’re pissy but I have yet to see you actually pissy. This is just pouting and it’s kinda pathetic… Are you hiding something from me?” Derek didn’t answer. 

When they started their individual work, Stiles leaned over again. “Hey Der, what are you doing after school,” Stiles asked. “I’m going to die at Lacrosse and then paint the booth. Wanna help?”

“Mr. Stilinski, do I need to move you,” their teacher asked, looking between Stiles and Derek. 

“Nope! All good. Shutting up now,” Stiles responded, giving a thumbs up. When the teacher walked away, Stiles sighed. He picked up his pencil and muttered, “you can’t ignore me forever.”

Derek paused. He was right. He couldn’t ignore Stiles forever, even two days felt impossible. It seemed like the harder he tried to stay away, the more he was pulled to Stiles. He was acting pissy because of it… just not around Stiles. He felt calmer around him. And that… that was making him feel worse because Stiles didn’t want that. 

Then there was the whole other issue that Stiles was about to turn sixteen and Derek was turning eighteen in a few months. Hell, Derek would be finishing his college applications this time next year and there was no telling where he’d go. Even if he stayed close, who knew how often he’d be able to come back? Laura was only an hour away in Sacramento and she wasn’t home that much.  

"Don’t look so miserable," Stiles rolled his eyes, " We’re friends. I told you you'd never get rid of me."

Friends Derek repeated back to himself. They were and always would be friends and friends don't get lost in the feeling of being close or the way the other smelled even if one of them was a werewolf. Friends . They’re friends and that’s all. Derek slouched a little, glancing at Stiles quickly and trying to focus on his work. Stiles wanted just friends so that’s what they were. Just friends is better than nothing at all.

The bell rang at the end of class and Stiles turned to say something to Derek but he was already leaving. Stiles held out his hands in confusion, watching Derek go.

Stiles sighed and got up. He fell into step with Lydia, venting to her. “Did I walk through a wolfsbane patch or something? He’s acting like I’m covered in the stuff, Lyd.” Stiles shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, muttering “I have half a mind to—”

“Stiles,” Lydia said, stopping abruptly, “if you want his attention, get hurt. I promise you he will come running.” She started walking to her next class and Stiles turned to go to his own.

He scoffed to himself. The only person who’d come running if he got hurt would be Jackson running to make fun of him. 

Lacrosse practice served to be, like, ten times as bad as Stiles thought it would be. Apparently, Coach was starting a new rule that meant you had five laps for every practice you missed. Stiles missed three days. So, basically not practicing for 3 day x 5 laps per day= a shitload of pain. He was one hundred percent sure his all of scabs were going to rip open and bleed through his sweats.

When he finished his laps, he stumbled over to his bag and sat down to grab his water. He was digging for his Tylenol when he saw a pair of shoes at the edge of his vision. Stiles looked up, expecting Coach and seeing Derek. 

“Uh, hi?”

“You’re hurt,” Derek said plainly.

Stiles squinted up at Derek. “I play lacrosse and– oh ya– have second-degree burns on my leg,” Stiles said sarcastically. Derek looked down at him blankly. “Why are you over here, Derek? Did you suddenly develop an interest in lacrosse? Better be careful not to let your basketball buddies know.” He looked down at his bag to find the pills.

“I could smell it from the parking lot,” Derek told him.

“Smell what? My dying will to live,” Stiles joked.

“Blood.”

Stiles’s eyes snapped back up to look at Derek. He took a deep breath. “Great job, Edward Cullen. I’m fine.”

“You’re lying,” Derek said, squatting down to Stiles’s level. He took Stiles’s hand in his, starting to pull the pain. 

The relief was instant and Stiles relaxed. The pain dulled to a sort of tingling rather than a ripping pain and Derek’s hand was warm on his. He wanted to stay there. 

Stiles pulled his hand away. “I don’t need you to do that,” he whispered, feeling guilty, and pulling the bottle of Tylenol out of the bag. “I can make do.”

Derek looked at the field, watching people crash into each other. “Are you sure?”

“Yup and if I change my mind, I can ask Cora or Scott or, kill me if I do, Isaac,” Stiles said. “I’m fine.”

Fine. He was fine. He didn’t need Derek’s help and obviously didn’t want it. 

“Bilinski! Stop flirting and get over here,” Coach yelled.

“You better go,” Stiles muttered.

Derek listened; he stood up and walked away. Listening to Stiles was about all he could do and even then he kept messing up. He must have been way off base. He thought… God, who cared what he thought. Even being able to smell people’s emotions, Derek couldn’t read a fucking room. He couldn’t read Stiles. The guy wouldn’t even let Derek help him! He said he didn’t want to date him and was starting to act like he didn’t want to be friends so what did he want?

Stiles shook a few pills into his hand and took them with a drink of his water. He used the bench to get up and ran out onto the field doing his best impression of someone who didn’t have ripped and bleeding second-degree burns on their leg. He didn’t miss the concerned looks from Scott and Cora. 

At the end of practice, Stiles flopped down in the grass looking up at the clouds. He swore one of them looked like a wolf and that brought up Derek and fuck that train of thought. He laid an arm over his eyes and let the other stay out to the side. Scott laid in the grass next to him and Cora rolled her eyes.

She nudged Stiles’s arm with her foot. “Are you going to change so we can paint?”

“Nope. I’m going to lay here and die,” Stiles said, lulling his head to the side and sticking his tongue out for good measure. 

“We tried to help you,” Cora said, sitting in the grass with the pair of idiots. “It’s your own fault for not accepting the help.”

Stiles shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Scott thought for a second and looked at Stiles. “No, you haven’t.”

“I fell out of a tree and broke my arm,” Stiles said, moving his arm to look at Scott.

“And my mom helped,” Cora added. “Admit it, every time you’ve been hurt, one of us has helped with the pain.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want your help,” Stiles said stubbornly, sitting up. “Come on, let’s go paint this stupid booth.”

Cora looked at Stiles with raised eyebrows and stood up. “Okay, get up and we’ll go.”

“I can get up, asshole,” Stiles huffed.

“Fine,” she crossed her arms. “Let’s see it.” Stiles glared at Cora. “Well?”

“Fine,” he said. Stiles bent his left leg under him, leaving his badly burnt and now bleeding right leg out straight. He leaned forward, putting all his weight onto his right knee.

Scott cringed at the sharp smell of pain and metallic blood. “Come on, Stiles. This is stupid!” He got to his feet and tried to grab Sties’s arm. “Let us help—”

Stiles batted Scott’s hand away. “I got it,” he declared. Stiles placed his hands on the grass, leaning his weight onto them. Cora laughed as Stiles got his right foot under himself to basically put himself in a tripod position. 

“Fuck, I wish I had my phone,” Cora sighed.

“Shut it—” Stiles grumbled, standing unsteadily on one leg before getting the other under him— “or you walk to school,” Stiles said, pointing at Cora now that he was upright.

“Ya. You sure showed me,” Cora said. “So, how are you planning to change your shoes? Or at all?”

Stiles snorted. “You think I untie my shoes? These have been tied since I bought them.”

“He didn’t put on cleats,” Scott said, patting Stiles on the back. 

“As for changing, my shirt’s in my bag,” Stiles said. “Best thing about being a dude.”

“If the best thing about being a guy is that you can change your shirt in public, I’m even happier not to be one,” Cora joked, walking back toward the school. “Scott, come help me carry this booth so I don’t get weird looks for doing it alone.”

Stiles made an offended noise. “What about me,” he asked, walking with her and picking up his bag as they went. 

“Full offense but you have the upper body strength of a baby seal,” she teased.

“I am offended!”

Cora opened the door off the side of the school. “That’s why I said full offense.”

Stiles smirked, looking behind him for Scott but didn't see him following. "Where'd Scott go?"

"Don't know, don't care," Cora told him. “We have other ‘help’ anyway.”

Stiles glared at her. "If I walk in that gym and see Greenberg or Jackson, I will send Erica that video ."

"You wouldn’t. It hurts you too," Cora shot back.

"Erica already thinks I'm a spas. It doesn't hurt me at all."

Cora listened to Stiles’s heartbeat, he wasn’t lying. She gave him a skeptical look and took a deep breath– which was totally just a cover for checking if the previously named boys were there. She shrugged.

Stiles sighed and turned toward the gym. “Please be Danny. Please be Danny…” He pushed the gym door open and sighed. “I did not include nearly enough people in my threat..” 

“Too late now,” Cora remarked.

They walked– Cora walked and Stiles hobbled– over to Ethan and Aiden. He didn’t give them a chance to acknowledge him– not that they would have– before asking, “so, if I kill one of you, would the other shrivel up and die or pop out two more like a hydra?”

“You’re not funny,” Ethan said, “just an ass.”

“Well,” Stiles said, “I was trying to sound like you so I guess I hit the nail on the head, huh?”

They didn’t banter with Stiles near as much as he would have liked. The group only waited a few minutes for Scott to meet them before the twins ‘helped’ Cora move the booth outside even though any one of them could have done it alone. Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes at them as the pretended to struggle. It’s really funny to watch three born-wolves who have never struggled to move anything in their lives act like they were.

Once they’d moved the booth outside where they could paint, Cora headed off to change and the twins went for paint. Scott made his appearance a couple minutes later.

Stiles looked up from painting and snorted when he saw the shirt Cora had given Scott.  “What’s up Hot Girl Summer ,” he asked. “You know it’s February, right?”

“Shut up,” Scott mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, it’s good,” Stiles snorted, “really. You fill it out well. You and Cora must have the same bra size.” Cora walked up behind Stiles, dipped her fingers in paint and flicked it at Stiles. He threw up an arm but it was too little too late, red paint dotting his clothes, skin and hair. “Awe, man! How am I supposed to get this out?”

“Not my problem,” Cora said.

Stiles glared at her and her smirk. Two could play at that game. He flicked his paintbrush at her, covering her in small dots of paint. 

The booth didn’t exactly get painted to plan. It was more of a Jackson Pollock than a traditional Valentines Day booth. It took forever to cover the pink and red splatters before it looked half decent again. They eventually decided to embrace the chaos, turning the splattered drops into hearts. It went fairly fast with the five of them working, enough that they would have to wait for one layer to dry before doing more.

It was getting close to sunset when they decided to call it for the night.

Chapter Text

“Happy Valentines Day,” Cora said, throwing an plastic clothing bag at each of her friends. 

Scott caught his, looking over just in time to see Stiles fumble his epicly. Seeing as it didn’t break, cry, or explode when it hit the ground, Scott deemed it fairly safe. 

“Uh, thanks,” he said, looking between Cora and the plastic bag in his hands. It obviously had something fabric in it.

“What is this,” Stiles asked, already opening his. 

Cora shrugged, “team shirts for the booth.” 

Stiles pulled his shirt out of the bag. He held it up to look at the front. “Oh, that’s cool,” he said, looking at the lacrosse sticks and gloves made a heart. Meanwhile, Scott was trying not to laugh at the back.

“You should turn it around,” Scott mumbled, trying not to laugh.

“What,” Stiles asked, turning the shirt. “They’re perfect!”

Stiles’s favorite part of the kissing booth was definitely the custom t-shirts. He and Cora had spent at least an hour laughing and coming up with ideas. They finally found a theme they liked. They were bleach-dyed maroon t-shirts. The front had lacrosse sticks and gloves that made a heart and each shirt had a nickname on the back. 

Stiles could hardly wait to hand them out. He basically threw them at people once the booth was set up.

Cora was The One With Bad Ideas, Stiles was The One Who Doesn’t Shut Up, Scott was The One Who Knows Nothing, and Lydia got The One Who Knows Everything. Jackson was The One With Anger Issues, Isaac was rightfully The One With The Scarfs, Danny was The One Who Needs A Break, and Greenburg was The One With Wrong Answers. 

“I can’t believe we let you talk us into this,” Isaac grumbled, trying to use his scarf to cover the back of his shirt. He wished he’d grabbed a jacket now.

Stiles smiled. “Come on! Where’s your sense of humor? They’re funny!”

“They’re weird and stupid,” Jackson snapped, holding his shirt out with disgust.

“You’re just mad it’s right,” Stiles shrugged.

Jackson glared at him. “I’m going to rock your shit at practice.,” he huffed and walked away.

“You’re just proving I picked the right name,” Stiles said. “We start in an hour so hurry up!”

It was hardly thirty minutes later that Stiles had to give in and sit down. His leg was starting to burn– no pun intended but damn if it a wasn’t good one– and walking back and forth on uneven ground wasn’t helping. He tried to ignore the looks the pack was giving him. 

He just popped more ibuprofen and hoped it wasn’t killing his kidneys yet.

When the fair officially started, there was a slow trickling of people, but what do you expect for eight am on a Saturday? It was a whole 48℉ on a Saturday morning that just so happens to be Valentine’s day, who would want to be out at this time? 

Stiles was joking with Danny when Derek walked up to the booth and it was like Danny disappeared. Stiles turned his attention to Derek, smirking as the wolf walked over.

"Quite the way to apologize after ignoring me for so long, sourwolf. I hate to break it to you but the booth isn't open and I'm not doing any kissing unless you ask really nicely," Stiles joked.

"Here," Derek mumbled, holding a thermos out. He tried to stay calm even though he had intended to stop at the kissing booth later. Later . He still needed to work up the nerve and Stiles’s comment had knocked out what little he’d already managed.

Stiles looked at the thermos in confusion but took it anyway. It was warm in his hands, a nice break from the cold morning air. "It's not poisoned, right," Stiles asked, not waiting for an answer as he took a drink. Stiles hummed happily, drinking the coffee greedily. 

"You brought coffee," Cora asked, walking over excitedly.

"I brought Stiles coffee."

"Why didn't you bring me any, asshole," Cora asked, crossing her arms. "I'm your sister."

"And fully capable of getting your own," Derek said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"And Stiles isn't?”

Derek looked at Stiles and then Cora. "He might be able to limp there and back in thirty minutes.”

“Well, fuck you too,” Stiles said, taking a drink. 

Derek looked back to Stiles, seeing him drinking the coffee. The coffee that Derek had brought for him. He smiled, happy that Stiles was enjoying it. He’d finally done something right and Stiles was happier for it. He might have been a little in his head, not realizing he was staring. At least, he didn’t until Stiles’s looked at him and they made eye contact and Stiles damn near choked on the coffee. 

Danny looked between Stiles and Derek. To his horror, Stiles knew exactly what Danny thought he figured out. That brings the total to too god damn many people.

“A kiss is a dollar,” Lydia said as she walked over, “but eye-fucking cost extra.” The comment make both Stiles and Derek turned red and Cora made a dramatic retching noise. 

Stiles decided that enough people already thought he and Derek were dating and they didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire. "Thanks for the coffee, Derek but, if you stay, you're helping."

"Did I get it right," Derek asked, looking everywhere but Stiles.

"Ya… It’s perfect," Stiles assured him. 

Cora, of course, had to get the last word. "Kinda funny that you know how Stiles likes his coffee," she said teasingly. She couldn't not make fun of her brother, it's her whole job.

"Maybe I'm just more observant," Derek shot back.

Cora snorted, "ya right. Maybe when it comes to Stiles."

"Bye Derek," Stiles cringed, using the warm cup to keep his hands warm. 

Cora stole the thermos from Stiles and took a drink. She made a face and passes it back. “Ick, why is that still so bitter?”

“Maybe because there isn’t a pound of sugar in it,” Stiles said, tucking the thermos closer to his body so it wouldn’t get stolen again. “And it’s my coffee. If you were nicer, Derek might have brought you some too.”

Cora glared at Stiles. “Sometimes I wish you had a sibling so I could show you how fucking weird this is.”

“You’re just mad because I’m everyone’s favorite Hale child, even your own siblings,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure everybody’s favorite Hale is you little cousin Kena,” Lydia said.

“How do you know Kena,” Cora asked, trying to remember the last time the kid had visited.

In just a few hours, the school grounds were crawling with people. Teens, adults and kids alike were walking up and down the rows of booths. 

Kids ran around with balloon animals and face paint from the art club and rock candy from the science club. The poor swim team had gone for a dunk tank and were shivering on the plank since the softball team had so generously decided to donate some money for a few throws. The softball team was selling hot chocolate on one end of the row while the baseball team sold coffee at the other end; this naturally turned into a competition. The theater kids were playing finish the lyrics and handing out flyers to their next show. The choir was selling singing candygrams with a few songs to pick from. The track team– the few who weren’t in other sports– had a trivia game set up. The book club had taken donations of books from the library to sell. Debate and Forensics was selling baked goods and the sugar cookie hearts were very popular based on those walking by. The wrestling team was doing a raffle for some beef one of their dads donated. The basketball team had set up an obstacle course on the field and Key club was handing out donated merch for anyone who got a paper signed saying they donated to two or more booths. 

As for the kissing booth, they had quite the line starting to form. There were a few guys walking away disappointed that Lydia was not planning on kissing anyone. Scott and Stiles– as a couple of used to be losers– were surprised by the attention they got. The booth was just stroking Jackson’s ego which Stiles could have done without. Isaac, for as cool as he pretends to be, was far from cool when people wanted to kiss him. His face matched the shirts as red as he was. Cora was fairly popular being the only girl participating in the booth. She was alternating between getting kissed and making jokes to Scott and Stiles.

Derek was helping to run the obstacle course but his attention was really on the kissing booth. Even saying he was helping might be a bit too much credit. With the grumpy ass look on his face, nobody wanted to approach him. 

When his shift with the booth ended, he opted for awkwardly watching them from a distance and trying to blend in with the rest of the crowd. It was awful. If the number of people at the fair and all of the kids running around screaming wasn’t bad enough, he got to see exactly how profitable the kissing booth was.

“Seriously, Derek,” Ethan asked, walking up behind Derek in the crowd. “Just creepily watching? If I didn’t know better, I might accuse you of being an exhibitionist,” he joked.

“You’d be wrong on both counts,” Derek grumbled, glaring as Stiles took money from and kissed a girl at the booth.

“Both?”

“It’d be a voyeur and you’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised you know that,” Ethan rolled his eyes. He saw Derek’s eyes narrow as yet another person kissed Cora. “I can’t tell what’s upsetting you more: your little sister or your boyfriend.”

Derek’s glare snapped to Ethan. “I’m not dating Stiles so stop saying it,” he growled and Ethan smirked.

“You don’t scare me. Your already in plenty of trouble with Talia,” Ethan said, started to walk to the booth. “You can be a stick in the mud all you want. I’m going to kiss Danny before my shift starts.” 

As Ethan walked away, Derek read the back of his shirt, The one With Deja Vu. Knowing Stiles, he bet Aiden had the same thing

He watch as a few more people went to the booth. “Half of the school is going to end up with mono,” he muttered pulling in tighter to himself. He glared at the person who had just kissed Stiles. He hoped they got mono. Or the flu. Maybe the mumps. He wasn’t picky.

Okay. This was it. He squeezed the folded dollar bill in his hand. He just needed to walk up to the booth, give Stiles the money and… What did he say after that? Did he just ask for a kiss? Did he need to say anything? What If Stiles thought it was a joke? What if he thought it was weird or creepy? Or like he was taking advantage of Stiles not really being able to say no at the moment. Derek stomach dropped into his feet at the thought. Did he really want to kiss him for the first time by paying him for it? And in front of all these people? Nope. Nope, he couldn’t do it. 

Fuck, what if Stiles thought he was joking? Derek would simply have to disappear. He’d just have to disappear and never be seen again because there would be no way in hell he could ever face Stiles again after that. Derek felt his palms starting to bleed, the smell of blood hitting him a second later.

Derek rolled his eye at himself, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets and headed to the school. He hurried through the gym and the few booths set up inside. He checked the boys’ locker room door and found it unlocked.

He stood at one of the sinks and turned on the water, watching the blood wash away. He looked at the dollar that had been in his pocket a groaned. Of course he’d managed to mangle the thing, leaving holes from his claws. 

“Awesome,” he mumbled to himself, looking into the mirror. “What the hell is wrong with me? All I need to do is walk up there, give the money to Stiles, and kiss him. Simple,” he told himself. “Really simple, except for the part where he doesn’t want anything to do with me.” 

Derek hit the sink in frustration and watched it crack. He shoved his hands back in his pockets. He just felt so completely beyond frustrated with himself. 

He was going to go back out there and try one more time. And, if he couldn’t do it, he was gonna go home.

He didn’t go home. But he also never managed to work up the courage to go up to the kissing booth. He kept making excuses for himself– just a few more minutes, the line’s too long, the line’s too short, he needs a breath mint first– and had wasted the day.

Derek sat on the bleachers in the gym, trying to relax. The fair was always overwhelming and his dumb ass had decided to hang out all day for a certain boy working a kissing booth. He’d hardly had the gall to go up and bring coffee, let alone buy a kiss. He’d been so in his head that he didn’t even get to enjoy walking around. 

So, there he sat, sharp teeth biting into his hand stuck in a spiral of how fucking useless he was. 

He tried to use the pain to keep himself grounded but it only severed to remind him of how stupid his plan was. About the only thing that helped him calm down anymore was Stiles and that was out of the question. 

The loud squeal of the gym door fueled Derek’s overwhelmed state but, even so, he recognized the heart beat, the scent, the footsteps, that were in the gym with him now.

“Hey Der-Bear,” Stiles said, standing in front of the bleachers. He threw a shirt at Derek and wasn’t surprised when he caught it. “Knew you’d be here,” he said with a smirk and sat next to him. He looked Derek over, seeing the blood running down his chin. “You’re not gonna go, like, all JD on the place and plant bombs under the bleachers, right,” Stiles joked. Derek gave him a confused look and Stiles smiled. “There’s some blood on your face, killer,” he teased.

Derek wiped his face and slumped at the blood on his hand. If he had blood on his face, then… He looked at the shirt he’d been thrown and sighed. “Shit, sorry…” The blood that had been on his hand had stained it. Stiles seemed to notice to but he just shrugged.

“It’s your shirt. Good thing it’s already red, huh,” he joked, watching Derek unravel the shirt to read it: The One With RBF.  “Funny, right? Hey, look, Jackson ran out on us so we’re one wolf short on dismantling the booth. Feeling helpful?”

“How many does it really take to move the booth,” Derek mumbled, wiping the blood on his jeans so the shirt didn’t catch it all.

“One,” Stiles admitted, “but we’re trying to keep up appearances here! Can’t have the whole town seeing Cora carry the booth off one handed– which she can do by the way.”

Derek smirked at the though. “What do I get out of it,” he asked, wondering if his plan might actually work out. He was going to help, there was no use in acting like he wasn’t.

“A kiss,” Stiles said, half joking. Derek’s eyes were probably the size of saucers. “Anyone you’d like,” Stiles continued. Ah, there it was. “We still have Danny, Scott, Greenburg, and Isaac but you’re out of luck if you were hoping for Jackson.” Derek cringed, making Stiles laugh.

A silence fell between them. Derek was starting to notice these pauses more and more. They were usually created by him not answering but they weren’t necessarily uncomfortable.

“Cora said…” He took a breath. “She said that ‘rule number one’ is a joke,” Derek said nervously.

“Ya,” Stiles shrugged, “of course it is and it’s her favorite one the last year or two. Why?”

Derek chewed his lip nervously. He sighed, licking the blood off the cut. “Why have you been pulling away from me?”

“What, like when you do the pain-drain thing,” Stiles asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Look, I’ve already had this conversation with Cora and Scott, I can heal and deal with the pain on my own. I’m not some fragile human you have to baby to health.”

Derek froze. Shit. Shit, shit. “That’s it? Because you don’t want help healing?”

“No. It’s totally because I woke up after the shit show with the kanima and suddenly realized that you’re all horrible nightmarish monsters,” Stiles said sarcastically. “Seriously dude, you’ve all been babying me like I can’t possibly heal on my own.”

Oh, he was fucking stupid. “Was I really doing it that often,” Derek mumbled, more thinking out loud than asking a question. Fuck, he was such as ass! A self centered ass who somehow made this about himself!

Stiles scoffed, “uh, ya. Like everytime you were close to me.” Yup, Derek fucked up. “And what do you mean I was pulling away from you ? You’ve been actively avoiding me for, like, a week.”

Derek’s eyes fell to his shoes. Fuck. Ya, he did do that, didn’t he? How the hell does he explain that ? He thought Stiles was going to hate him after that. Then there were his own feelings for Stiles which, holy shit, was that a lot to go through. And then the whole thing with Stiles being hurt. 

He couldn’t explain why but he just felt like he had to do something to help because Stiles was obviously hurting. He wasn’t even doing it consciously. If he wasn’t trying to make himself so small he disappeared, he’d probably be doing it now. It was just something he did and that was definitely going to be a thought he had a fucking breakdown about later. 

And, really, what the fuck was wrong with him? How was it that the same person who had to figure out how to control his shift wasn’t able to control the want to take care of Stiles? Well, maybe because he was nine years into being able to shift and only had the barest bit of control over that . But Stiles had been there basically forever so why was it different now? Even that was diluting the truth. If he thought about it– really thought about it– he’d always been weird around Stiles. The only time he genuinely lost it was when Stiles was involved– as shown by his current struggle of bitten lips and claws cutting his palms and he just really fucking loved St—

Oh, Shit. Oh no no no no no. Fuck… Oh, Derek was in this way deeper than he thought.

“Uh, Derek? Are you okay,” Stiles asked after a solid five minutes of Derek silently spiraling. “Der,” he said questioningly, setting a hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Derek mumbled.

“Sure thing, dude,” Stiles said calmly. “Don’t worry about—”

“I just,” Derek stood up. “I— I have to go,” he said, practically running out of the gym.

Stiles watched him leave from the bleachers, utterly confused as to what the Hell just happened. “Okay…”

Talia and her husband were relaxing on the couch, sipping their tea as they waited for their children (plus between 2-9 extra) when Derek got home. He opened the door and hurried up to his room. His parents shared a look and Adam shook his head. 

“That is werewolf drama, which is not my area of expertise,” he told his wife.

“How the hell can you tell he’s having werewolf drama just from that,” Talia asked in disbelief.

“If it were an argument with either of his sisters or Malia, he’d have come in here and started ranting about it. If he were just angry, he would have walked . He just ran up to his room and I could have sworn there was a bit of gold to his eyes. He’s embarrassed and I bet dinner on it having something to do with a particular bit of Mischief ,” Adam explained and Talia looked at him with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you become a detective,” she asked.

“Because I have two full time jobs right now: understanding our kids and making sure the house doesn’t fall down around us,” he joked, standing up and kissing Talia, taking her cup of tea.

“It is a miracle that we don’t have a dozen more kids because the way you care of them is very very sexy,” Talia told him, kissing her husband again. 

“If you find my parenting skill sexy, wait until I pull out the dad jokes,” Adam joked, wiggling his eyebrows at Talia and took their cups to the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes and stood up. “You can start dinner. I’m going to go talk to Derek and I’ll help you if we can get it figured out.”

Talia knocked on Derek’s door before she walked in. The door opened and she could tell it was going to be a rough one. 

“Oh, pup,” she said softly, closing the door behind her. 

It was like walking into a brick wall of chemosignals when she walked in. The air was heavy with anxiety and sadness and confusion. The emotions mixed with the smell of tears and blood as she got closer to him. She just hoped he’d not worked himself into a panic attack. 

Talia sat on the edge of the bed next to Derek. He sat, hugging his knees to his chest and buried his face against his jeans. She rubbed his back softly, not wanting to push too soon. 

“I’m sorry, little one. It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “I’m right here if you need me. Dad’s just downstairs if you want him, too.”

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he mumbled.

Talia frowned. “I promise you’re not, Der. You’re so smart.”

“No! That’s not what I mean,” Derek huffed, pulling in on himself more. “I keep fucking up and ruining things!”

“With Stiles,” she added, knowing it’s what he meant. “I’m not really sure you can ruin things with him. He likes you. A lot .”

“But I do,” Derek grumbled, looking at his mom. “I keep messing up and doing stupid things that I think will help but it doesn’t and it hurts him or upsets him! Then when I try to fix it I somehow fuck that up too! And sometimes I feel like I can’t help it! Like I don’t even do it on purpose and it happens and he hates it and it makes him pull away from me which is the opposite of what I want but I can’t be close to him without fucking up. I can’t fuck up if he pulls away from me but I hate that and he hates that and then I just go and fuck it all up even more!”

Talia listened, and it all sounded just so familiar. “Oh Derek, pup… I can promise you it’ll be okay,” she said, trying not to laugh. “It all feels so big right no but I promise it’s not. This is just the added annoyance of being a teenager and a werewolf, especially when it has to do with dating.”

“We’re not dating, mom!”

“Oh, I know. I also know that hormones don’t care if you’re dating or not.”

“Mom—”

Talia ignored Derek’s interjection and continued, “you have a lot of really big and really stressful feelings about Stiles that are making you crazy and you also know that Stiles has a lot of the same feelings which makes it extra crazy.”

“I’m not supposed to know about his feelings,” Derek grumbled, half hiding his face again. “And I don’t know if he doesn’t want to feel them or if he doesn’t want me to know because he tries to hide it…”

“That’s a hard situation to figure out. You may never know unless you ask him,” Talia suggested and she could tell how Derek’s mood soured. 

“I can’t do that! What if he says no and then he hates me forever and we never talk again and it’s awkward when he hangs out with Cora! And then he’ll date someone else and I’ll see them together all the time and— and even the thought makes me feel sick and angry and I’d lose it again and, god, it freaked Stiles out last time! Can you image what he’d do If I freaked out on the person he starts dating? I’d be that guy at school and then you’d have to send me to a different school so I didn’t blow it for us and expose that were werewolves to the entire school out of stupid jealousy and I’d never live it down with Cora! I think she might actually hate me if I did that again! She’s still mad at me for last time and god knows Laura would have something to say about it and my lack of control. I just need to stay in here and never leave again.”

“That was a lot,” Talia sighed. “Do you think that some of that might be a little bit unrealistic?”

Derek was quiet, then he mumbled, “ya…”

“Okay, so what is the first thing you think you did wrong,” Talia asked.

“Where do I start,” Derek huffed.

“Why don’t we start after the Kanima attack. That seemed to be when a lot of this extra moodiness started.”

Derek sighed, mumbling, “I let him get hurt.”

“Stiles does what he wants,” Talia said. “I’m not sure anything could stop him when he decides to do something. Plus you couldn't have known that was going to happen.”

“Then I ignored him for days, even in class,” Derek told her, waiting for an argument.

Talia hummed, “no, you were kind of an ass for that but he already forgave you. Did you apologize?”

“Ya… In math.” 

“And he instantly forgave you because it’s Stiles and you,” Talia said. “Derek, really think about it.

“Then I kept trying to help with his pain,” Derek shrugged, trying not to think about how stupid he was for not figuring out what Stiles hadn’t wanted sooner.

Talia’s eyes narrowed, trying to understand. “Why is that bad?”

“He didn’t want me to,” he explained exasperatedly.

Talia hummed in understanding, “but you kept doing it?”

Derek groaned, “I told you! I wasn’t doing it on purpose, I just did! He was hurting and it was like my body moved on it’s own. He said I did it every time I was close to him!”

Talia had a moment of realization as Derek explained. “Oh, honey .” She sighed and turned to face him more. "We need to have a talk that probably should have happened a long time ago."

"I know about the birds and the bees."

"I would hope so, you're seventeen, but what about the bees and the bees? I knew I was going to have to have the birds and the birds talk with your sister but—"

"Ah! Mom, no. I got it."

"Porn isn't a reliable source for that kinda thing."

"MOM!"

"Okay, that wasn't what I wanted to talk about anyway." Talia placed a hand on Derek’s cheek, getting him to look at her. “My sweet boy. You’re very much like your dad and that means you feel things very strongly,” she told him. She took a breath, knowing this would be a much more serious conversation than she expected to have at 5pm on a Saturday. “Do you remember hearing about mates during our summer trips?”

“Kinda, ya.”

“Being someone’s mate isn’t some big cosmic thing or fate. It really just means that you care for them on a very deep level. It feels like they just get you in a way others don’t and you need to take care of them,” Talia said, not missing the way Derek’s brows furrowed. “And it’s not one-and-done. You might think it is and maybe it feels like it’s too big to happen again– I know you’ve tried to steer clear of dating since Paige and I know if you felt someone was or could have been your mate, it’s hard to move on, but it’s not—”

“I didn’t feel like that with Paige…”

“Oh… Okay, great— not great great but,” Talia took a breath. “It might be harder to understand and maybe I didn’t totally screw up talking to you about this so late. A lot of teenagers don’t have this explained as well and they kinda run off with the whole destiny thing. Which makes sense because it does feel like…” Talia sighed, shaking her head, “like it all falls into place and it’s just… right.”

“Are you and Dad mates?”

Talia smiled, “Ya. I think we were mates from the second we looked at each other.”

“Can it happen that fast?”

“No, I– I’m exaggerating,” Talia laughed at herself. “Being mates comes from having a strong connection with someone, like a pack bond. For your dad and I, it happened really fast. Even before we started dating.”

“Was it platonic or…”

Talia chuckled. “It most definitely was not platonic. I was so head over heels for him, it made me stupid. It’s not like that for everyone, though. Do you remember Miss Sarah? She made you those sleeping gloves when you were little?” Derek nodded. “Good. Well, she and her partner are mates but they didn’t figure it out for years. They grew up in the same pack, went to the same school, and even worked together. She thought that they just had a really strong pack bond because they fit together so well and felt safe together. It wasn’t until they went out and Sarah got drunk and— that night changed things. The point is that sometimes you don’t realize those feelings are there until something changes. Kind of like how you didn't realize how strong the bond between you and Laura was until she went to college. Sometimes you don’t know until it’s gone and it hurts when that bond breaks.”

Derek sat up, trying to pick his thoughts apart. “Can it be platonic? And does the feeling always go both ways? Can humans feel it? Can you really ignore it for that long? What about—”

“Der, please, one at a time,” Talia objected. “I really don’t know a lot about it other than having been through it. You can ask your Dad how he feels. I know he does feel the bond but I don’t know how strong,” she explained calmly. “I tried to ignore it but it was easier not to.” Talia thought for a moment and smiled at her son. “Tell you what, if you write down all your questions then I will ask around and see who might be able to answer them and either I can ask or you can. We can even look for books on it if you’d prefer. I think Peter may have some, too.”

Derek nodded, looking down and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He was trying to make sense of what his mom said and if it really applied or if it was wishful thinking.

“Der,” Talia said, gently playing with his hair, “if you want to know more, I’ll help. I don’t care if it’s about putting words to something you already feel or for something that will happen in the future or if you just want to know. This is part of you and if you want to learn more, you should be able to. Just talk to me or Dad or, on the off chance you’d feel more comfortable , Peter and we’ll help.”

“How am I supposed to know what I’m feeling? It’s all a jumbled mess,” Derek ask in a sigh.

“Knowing what you feel is hard when you’ve never felt it before. Talking can help and it might just take time,” Talia said softly. She pulled Derek close and kissed his forehead. “Just remember that we’re here for you. Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

Derek laid on the floor of the library staring up at the ceiling, music playing in his headphones to drown out the sounds of the house. Mates? How could he and Stiles be mates? They’re still teenagers! How on Earth does it make sense to have a mate as a teenager? Ok, so maybe it makes sense but only because of the literal pile of books that he found. (One thing he’ll give Peter is that his book collection is rather extensive and his connections work fast.) 

And, sure, Derek might have met a few people in other packs who met their partner in high school but he never thought he’d be one of them. Not like it really mattered, anyway. His mom told him it isn’t a sure thing, just an emotional connection. An emotional connection that made the wolf part of him go insane. It wanted to protect and care for his mate. For Stiles. And that was not what Stiles wanted.

Derek groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. This was stupid and annoying and confusing and felt totally unreal, like fairytale crap in a kid’s story or some poorly written teen romance. 

Stiles was his mate . That sounds so fucking weird. There’s no way he can tell Stiles that without sounding like a creep. What’s he supposed to do? Walk up to Stiles next time he’s over and say hey, guess what? We’re mates– which is a totally normal werewolf thing– and that’s why I keep screwing up around you because I literally can’t control it. Sorry about it. God, that’s so gross and creepy! 

And thinking of gross and creepy only reminds him that Stiles is still fifteen and he’s seventeen ! Sure, Stiles will turn sixteen soon but Derek turns eighteen this year. If they were adults, two years wouldn’t be a lot, but Derek might actually throw up if he thought of talking to someone like hi, this is my boyfriend and he’s fifteen but it’s okay since he’s almost sixteen and is also my mate. Like, someone better call fucking Chris Hansen on that shit!

Even if the whole age thing didn’t make him feel like a creep, it’s not like he could just leave one of the books out to leave clues because Stiles would read the whole book and Derek couldn’t deal with that, not when he had to skip pages because of the… illustrations. They were so clinical about it, too! Stiles might actually start avoiding him. That would be his luck. 

First Paige, then Kate, and now this. Perfect. Just perfect . 

Derek was snapped out of his pity spiral by the vibration of the library door closing. He sat up, pulling off his headphones.

“—erek? Derek, are you in here?”

Stiles. Looking at the books piled around him, the color drained from Derek’s face. Fuck. Oh fucking shit. No way he can even move them before Stiles— 

“There you are,” Stiles said, rounding a bookshelf. He looked at Derek and then the books stacked around him. “Doing a little light reading,” Stiles teased, turning his head to read the title of one of the books. His face scrunched, “didn’t peg you as a romance reader… Uh, no pun intended,” he grimaced.

Stiles reached to pick the book up and Derek slapped a hand on top of it so he couldn’t. “Not romance books,” he said far too seriously.

“Ok, eyebrows. Hey, have you ever noticed that your eyebrows disappear with your beta shift? I mean, your whole family does it but most of the others don’t,” Stiles rambled.

Derek looked at him in confusion. “What,” he asked, relaxing slightly– just enough for Stiles to grab the book and pull it out from under his hand.

He turned quickly, opening the book. “Not romance you say,” Stiles muttered as he read. Derek scrambled to get up. “This reads like a textbook,” Stiles mumbled, holding the book tightly to him so Derek couldn’t take it without causing damage.

“It’s not a textbook either,” Derek grumbled, grabbing the book.

“Then what is it,” Stiles asked, meeting Derek’s eyes– and fuck Derek should not find this attractive– “and why is it talking about ‘mates’?” Derek’s face flushed and Stiles’s eyes widened in response. “Mates are a real thing?! I thought that was just shitty fanfiction! Oh, like Hell I’m giving this book back. Wait, is that what the others are too?” 

Stiles practically dropped the book to look at the others. He read title after title, scanning the table of contents of each one. Something in one of the books caught his attention. If the blush on his face didn’t say it, the flood of emotions did. Derek realized too late which book Stiles had and even werewolf speed is no match for a curious Stiles. 

“What’s got you on this reading tangent? Do you have— that’s a real thing ,” Stiles yelled, his eyes flicking up to Derek in horror, amusement, and disbelief. Derek gave Stiles a questioning look and his eyes flicked away as the smell of arousal met Derek’s nose. “I’m never going to be able to look any of you in the eyes again…” Stiles muttered.

Morbid curiosity got the best of Stiles and he started reading again. He flipped the page and almost dropped the book. His mouth fell open. He tried to come up with words but gave up. He licked his lips out of habit, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, and read on. 

Derek watched every second of it. 

“That’s, uhm, a very detailed diagram,” Stiles commented and Derek wished the floor would open up under him because Stiles was definitely going to read that entire book, detailed diagrams and all.

“I’m going to my room,” Derek mumbled, his throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Stiles didn’t hear him, too invested in whatever this book was. Never in a million years did he expect to see the words ‘knot’ or ‘slick’ outside of a wild ass tag on AO3– which he totally hasn’t read any of– but it did make him wonder if it came from someone who’d found a book like this… 

“Hey Derek, I—” Stiles stopped talking as he looked up and didn’t find Derek. “What the Hell, dude,” he said, knowing damn well Derek could hear him from just about anywhere in the house. 

He grabbed a piece of paper and put it in the book to mark his spot. He brought the book with him as he walked out of the library. He stopped in the hall before heading upstairs. “Hey, aunt Talia, can I borrow this book,” he asked to the air, waiting for a reply.

Talia walked out of the kitchen. “Sorry dear, I forgot you couldn’t hear me. Of course you can, just return it in the same condition you take it in,” she said. “Dinner will be ready around six if you plan to stay.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, tucking the book safely into his bag. “What’s for dinner?”

“Lasagne.”

“Oh, you know I’m always down for lasagne night,” Stiles said happily. “I’m going up to Cora’s room.”

Stiles just made it to the top of the stairs before his arm was grabbed and he was nearly pulled off his feet. 

Malia slapped a hand over his mouth and held a finger to her lips, telling him to shut up. She did that head tilt thing all the ‘wolves did when listing to someone. Stiles tried to listen too. He could hear Derek and Cora talking, vaguely able to understand them.

“Well, if you plan to be a little bitch and avoiding your problems, why not apply to schools in Alaska? Better yet, apply in London. You can stay with Mikey and her six kids,” Cora suggested from her spot on top of Derek’s dresser.

“You’re so funny,” Derek said deadpan, rolling over on his bed to glare at her. “What do you expect me to say? How would you even start that conversation? Hey, apparently we’re mates. Want to go on a date? ” 

Stiles’s stomach twisted in knots. Derek has a mate. That’s why he was reading all those books. Sure, Stiles had considered the idea but he didn’t really think… Shit.

“Or you could be even the slightest bit romantic. You look like dad but that’s all mom,” Cora rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you do the date thing first– like, at least twice– and then maybe hint at the whole mates thing. Go to the arcade or the movies. Shit, go to the book store together.”

“Ya, because being mates is totally a second date kind of conversation,” Derek snorted, trying not to laugh.

Cora did laugh some. “I mean, I guess you could put it off for the third date.” Neither of them could hold back the laughs then. 

“Well, obviously. Everyone knows the fourth date is when you talk about the wedding, house, and kids,” Derek said sarcastically. 

“Hey, you could play mash together and get it all figured out at once,” Cora suggested. “Look, I love you and all that sentimental shit, but you need to get this figured out before the summer trip or you’re not going to be able to ignore it.”

“You underestimate me,” Derek grumbled.

The front door opened and Adam called for the kids to help him carry in the groceries. 

“No, but I know you.” Cora waited until she heard two sets of footsteps going down the stairs and jumped off the dresser. “And the second we’re with another pack and you see other ‘wolves getting their grubby hands on Stiles, you’re going to lose it. You clawed the shit out of Issac and we both know he’d never go for Stiles. What happens when others do find him attractive?”

Cora walked out of Derek’s room, leaving him to finish wallowing in his self-pitty. 

**********************

When Stiles got home, his dad was still at work. It wasn’t unusual so he just set the lasagne Talia had sent home with him in the fridge and texted his dad. 

He decided to take a shower before heading to bed. He was about to step into the much needed warmth of the water when his phone started to buzz. And buzz. And buzz. Stiles rolled his eyes, seeing the texts pop up on his lock screen from Cora and Scott. He forgot to text them that he’d made it home safe and wasn’t dying in a ditch. 

Chaos: Did you die?

Chaos: If you’re dead and I have to hear Derek whine about it I’ll kill you myself

Trouble: i doubt he died

Trouble: or that he’d answer if he had

Chaos: Nah, he’d find a way to tell us if he died. Like a ghost or smthng

Trouble: the ouija board is in your attic

Chaos: Oh fuck that

Chaos: I’m not fucking with that damn Ouaji board again

Chaos: I’d burn it if it weren’t bad luck

Trouble: your superstitious 

Mischief: you’re*

Chaos: Hey, he’s not dead it’s a miracle 

Trouble: is the jeep upside down in a ditch do we need to come flip it over bc youre not saying much

Mischief: I would buy you a box of punctuation but you wouldn’t use it…

Chaos: At least he used the right you’re this time ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mischief: Now, stop blowing up my phone so I can shower

Chaos : Remember, don’t be creepy, only wack it to fictional characters

Trouble: how do i remove her phone privileges??? 

Trouble: fuck it im removing my own phone privileges

When Stiles finished his shower, he flopped down on his bed. He grabbed his backpack, meaning to watch what would likely become hours of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when he saw the book he'd borrowed from aunt Talia's library. 

He bit the inside of his cheek. Derek had been really weird about the book. Stiles didn’t even know if it was fact or fiction at this point. 

Stiles pulled both the book and his laptop out of the backpack and sat up in his bed. He decided to look up the book to see if he could find out anything about it.

There wasn’t much. It seemed to be a pretty rare book. Some blog posts talked about it like a satire novel that created a weird world of werewolves. There were people on Tumblr talking about how it could be the blueprint for a/b/o fanfics. Stiles shuttered, remembering the trauma of missing that tag before reading for the first time. It wasn’t until he found a Reddit thread that he found something even remotely serious.

Of course, when he tried to access the thread, it was private.

Stiles huffed, leaning his head back against the wall. This would be a bitch. It was time to put his research skills to work. 

He managed to find the moderators and messaged one of them. He left it pretty general, saying he was looking into the book on behalf of a friend. They replied saying the group was exclusively for those who could prove they belonged.

Once again, Stiles hit a wall. He mentally cursed those fuzzy-wuzzy-fucks as he decided on a plan. They wanted proof he “belonged” which meant werewolf… or close associate.

Stiles smirked, typing back that he was an emissary in training and needed to find out more info on the book to move on in his training. They asked about his pack and Stiles told them he was working under the Hale pack. 

He was added to the group a few minutes later.

“God, they're stupid. How is any of this still a secret,” Stiles mumbled, scrolling through post after post. “I'll have to tell Aunt Talia about these idiots later…”

It took a bit of digging but Stiles was able to find the post about the book. It didn’t help much and Stiles was starting to think it was all a waste of time. People were arguing in the comments about every detail. 

Some people thought mates were just stories that the more romantic werewolves to make it seem special. Others were arguing about whether a mate was once in a lifetime and others yet argued that it was no different from falling in love any other way. 

Then came the arguing about how dramaticized the diagrams were and HOLLY SHIT THAT WAS A DUDE’S DICK! Well… it kind of does look like the diagrams in the book just… smaller? 

Yup. Stiles was going to hell.

Stiles scrolled through as many of the comments as he could stomach at once and would then read through the book. Each time he got to a topic that didn’t fully make sense, he’d look for it in the reddit thread until he found some answers. He decided to make a list of questions so he could ask aunt Talia about it later and maybe ask the more embarrassing ones online. He didn’t realize he’d read the entire book until he flipped the page and was left looking at the back cover.

“That's it,” he asked no one in particular. “That can’t be it. I have so many more questions!” 

He decided to look at some of the other posts while he was there. He’d hoped to find answers but instead found a lot of posts from druids and emissaries talking about what it was like when their power had started manifesting. 

At first, Stiles thought it was funny. Stuff about how they’d accidentally manage to make things disappear or how baby animals would follow them around. They might accidentally snap pencils in half mid-class. He thought it was cute, in a way, that magic seemed mischievous without control.

Then it got relatable. Being able to draw a perfect line of mountain ash without trying or never seeming to run out of it. Seeming to always be drawn to the supernatural and, often in partnership with the previous, regularly finding they’ve accidentally walked into trouble. 

And that was all well and good. Stiles believed in coincidences. Maybe they also had ADHD and that’s why all these things seemed to happen!

Then it lined up a little too well. Like accidentally predicting the future, even if it was just a passing joke. And, like, Stiles could count at least three times he’d made a joke and then it happened in the past two months. They had a sense of knowing when something was weird or someone had bad intentions. And maybe that was because Stiles’s dad’s a cop or that he grew up around werewolves, he might have just learned to read people. They could break a mountain ash line without touching or blowing on it and– listen here– it was an accident! Stiles didn’t even touch the stupid line but when he saw one of the wolves bounce off it, he just freaked and wanted to get to them and it broke when he stepped over it. He didn’t do it! He didn’t think… 

They were also able to find things if they thought about it hard enough, sometimes just falling into answers.

The thought that Stiles might somehow be some kind of supernatural being was all a little bit too much. What could he do? How would he know? How could he test it?

Stiles made a list. He’s pretty good at making lists, too. 

Thinks Things too try

1. Make something disappear[???]
2. See if animals follow you

         ^baby animals only?

1. breaking pencil w/ mind
2. draw a circle of mountain ash w/o trying
3. predicting the future
4. break a mountain ash line w/o touching or blowing on it
5. find something by thinking about it 
6. CONTROL the future?????

Stiles looked between his list and the posts from the druids online. He chewed his pen, looking to see if he’d missed anything. There was one thing. One big red glaringly obvious one– they came from family lines of druids. 

He looked down at his paper tentatively and added one more thing. 

1. Look in mom’s stuff

Maybe he just wouldn’t tell his dad about that one. Maybe he could go up to the attic before his dad got home. With the Kanima still loose and the curfew in effect, he was working long shifts. 

He looked at the time, 3am. Shit, when did that happen? Was his dad home? He should have been home hours ago. Did Stiles not hear him come in?

Stiles got up, having to use the bed to keep him from falling at first. I guess that’s what happens when you sit still for six hours straight. He managed to walk to his door without face planting and opened it. He walked down the hall and cracked open his dad’s bedroom door.  

Noah was sound asleep in bed. Good. Stiles closed the door, taking a breath of relief. 

He wondered if he could find what he needed without waking his dad. 

Stiles walked over to the attic door, reaching up for the string. He slowly slowly pulled on it. I squeaked loudly and he froze, listening for his dad. Letting off the string to close the door, he crept to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. 

Crouching by his dad’s door, he shoved the towel under. “You are going to stay asleep, so I can find what I need,” he whispered, more to himself than his dad. “You’re not going to get mad at me or ground me for snooping…” God, he really hoped that was a prediction of the future. 

When he couldn’t shove any more of the towel under the door, Stiles stood up. “You hear nothing,” he whispered, waving his hands like it would help.

He walked back to the attic door and pulled on the string. It squawled again and Stiles shushed it, moving slower. He grabbed the folding stairs before they could hit the floor and gently set them down.

He took the first step up slowly, waiting for any little noise to wake up his dad. To his relief, it didn’t creak too loud– at least not loud enough for Stiles to hear over his thundering heart. He climbed up slowly. 

When he caught sight of the attic he was reminded of how much had been shoved up here. He didn’t really know where to start looking. All of his mom’s stuff was up here, they hadn’t been able to get rid of any of it. Even her rocking chair, the one that had been in Stiles’s nursery, was up here. 

He sat in the chair, smiling to himself. He missed her a lot. He used to come up here and just sit in her chair to feel more connected to her, like she wasn’t really gone. His finger traced the flower design on the arms of the chair. Stiles remembered her telling him about making it. She told him how his grandpa had built the chair and taught her for weeks to do the wood burning. She had spent hours trying to get the design just right before putting it on the chair. It was one of her favorite memories with her father. 

He opened a box that sat next to the chair. Laying on top was her favorite blanket. He picked it up carefully. He smiled, running his fingers along the ridges. He missed her. A lot. He missed how she’d pull him close and wrap the blanket around them for bedtime stories. He missed the way she’d use different voices for the characters and would ask him what he thought would happen. He missed the polish nursery rhymes she would tell him. He’d tried to find the nursery rhymes online but he could seem to remember all the words. 

Stiles carefully folded his mom’s blanket and placed it back in its box. 

He sighed and looked around the attic. He needed something that would tell him if his mom knew about magic. He didn't even know what to look for. Unless his mom had, like, a spell book, he was at a loss.

Stiles looked around again. He stood, walking to one end of the room. He didn’t know why but there was something… He moved a few boxes out of the way, revealing a trunk. He kneeled down to look at it closer. It was old and dirty. Its color was faded and it had a small combination lock. 

He slumped a little, looking at the four digit lock. He pulled on the lid, hoping it would pop open. No such luck. What do people usually make the codes to a lock? Something important so they won’t forget. Important dates, maybe?

His mom’s birthday? 1013 

Thunk 

Nope. 

Maybe the year she was born? 1962

Thunk 

His dad’s birthday? 0712

Thunk 

Their wedding year? 1990

Thunk 

Was it his birthday? 0408

Click

Stiles smiled as the trunk opened. His birthday. His mom picked his birthday as the code.

Inside, he found a stack of old books, some art supplies, a few pieces of jewelry, and a small stuffed dog. 

He felt a cold chill run up his back as he looked on. 

He licked his lips and carefully picked up the book on the top of the pile. It was a book of Polish nursery rhymes. He opened it and found a note written in polish and addressed to his mom. He was able to make out a few words from his limited vocabulary: you, time, love, grandma. He desperately wanted to know what the rest said and decided it would come with him to look up later. 

For now, he flipped the page, looking for the one he remembered. He found it easily even without knowing most of the words. His fingers traced the words as he hummed the tune just how his mom would. He set it to the side and picked up another of the books. 

This one seemed to be a journal. He opened the first page and read the date. March 6th of 1977. His mom would have been his age. He found himself starting to read the pages. He wanted to know what his mom was like when she was younger. Was he like her? Did she wonder about everything like he did?

March 6, 1977

Talia and I ran into Adam again. I promise you this, they will get married someday, I just know it. He’s such a gentle giant for her. I truly wonder how a boy so sweet can be as aggressive an athlete as him. 

I’ve written before about how Mr. Elmsted seemed sick. He always says it’s just his nerves but I knew it was more, it’s that same nagging feeling I always get. They had to call an ambulance for him today. He passed out in the middle of class! I don’t know how, but Talia and I both knew something was really wrong at the start of class. He didn’t seem any worse today, not until he started slurring his words. I’ve heard he had a Stroke! I can’t believe it. He wasn’t old enough for that to happen! His wife had to leave her class too. I thought she’d already been out of school for some reason, maybe Peter had said something about a different substitute teacher…

April 8, 1977

I had a dream last night and today's date came up. I don’t know why. When babunia was telling me about how she used to read palms, she said never to ignore a date if it was in your dreams. Maybe it will be important later. For now I want to write this dawn to see in the future.

Today was nothing special. I suppose my dream was meant to be for later? Perhaps tonight's dream will add to this little message.

May 21, 1977

Talia’s family will be off for their summer trip again tomorrow. I wish she would tell me about them more. She refuses to tell me more than it’s to “build leadership skills”. Not even my best pestering will get the truth out of her. She’s so stubborn at times.

She always seems so nervous before these trips and how important they are. It seems like she only really relaxes anymore is on our late night walks. Maybe it’s the moon’s pull. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s a werewolf!

June 15, 1977

I finally got Talia’s letter! They’re in Descanso now. She says the friends they’re visiting there are very strict in their beliefs. I can’t imagine how Talia will ever survive it! That girl is far too strong headed to bend to their expectation. I imagine I won’t be hearing much more until she’s out of the trouble she’s bound to find. 

Honestly, if their folks are so strict, I can’t imagine them being friends with the Hales. I don’t think anyone with traditional beliefs would tolerate them. They have their own strict beliefs but theirs are about the first born inheriting the family business rather than the male children. I wonder why they’d make Talia endure such people when she’s going be the one in charge. 

July 31, 1977

 Babunia taught me more about palm reading today. Mom is sure it’s all silly luck and chance that babunia gets things right. I think there’s something to it. She told me things she’d have no way of knowing. I can’t wait to learn more about it!

September 22, 1977

It’s been a while since I last wrote but I suppose that can happen when your entire world gets flipped on its head and you find out WEREWOLVES ARE REAL!!! Not only that but my BEST FRIEND is one and has been hiding it from me! 

I don’t know if I’m more upset that she was hiding the entire world of supernatural creatures from me or that she would keep such an important part of herself hidden from me!

Oh and Peter, the little snitch, told their parents that Talia told me! He’s such a little troll! Are trolls real? Can I say that?        

Talia says trolls are real and she’d happily send Peter back to his real family if she knew where the trolls lived.

Stiles flipped a few pages further, pausing on one that seemed tear wrinkled. 

December 9, 1978

I’m afraid. 

Babunia didn’t want to teach me to read palms because of my own. She looked so sad when she read them that I had to know and now I don’t know what I’ll ever do! I can’t die so young! I’m not even sick! I might be clumsy but never that sick!

I told Talia and she promises to be with me. She said she’d even make me a werewolf if I wanted. I’m too scared to answer. What if that’s how I die? What if it’s something we can’t stop? 

Your palms are your fate and babunia didn’t say anything when I asked if it can change. I have to know. I have to see if there’s anything I can do.

It says I’ll have a baby and die soon after. How could I leave my baby? How would I forgive myself? How could they forgive me? 

“I could never blame you,” Stiles whispered, wiping tears off his face. “I’m sorry mom.”

He put the journal back in the trunk. He couldn’t read anymore. He looked at the other book. Most of them seemed to be journals but one was different. He pulled it out and looked at the cover. It was also written in polish but it wasn’t a children’s book. When he opened it, he saw pictures of palms, symbols, and ritual set ups. Many of the pages had been written on. His mom had written little notes in the margins. They were all short, pointing out difficult parts and things that needed practice. 

He decided to take that one too. It seemed his mom not only knew of magic but practiced some herself. Maybe learning using her books would make him feel closer to her. Maybe he could ask Talia if she could help him find more books too.

Did Talia know?

His mom wrote about talking to her when she learned to read palms, so she must. Right? Why wouldn’t she tell him about this?

Stiles heard the attic stair creak and looked over.

“Stiles, are you up here,” Noah asked tiredly.

“I’m over here.”

Noah squinted in the dim light, finding Stiles sitting in the morning light filtering through the window. He sighed and walked over to his son. “Are you okay, kid,” he asked, feeling uneasy among all of the bitter sweet memories of his wife’s belongings. 

“I found mom’s journals,” Stiles said, looking up at his dad. 

Noah looked from Stiles to the trunk he’d opened and shook his head. “You’re mom had me lock that trunk up here right after we got married. The things in there upset her and she said never wanted to see it again,” he sighed. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have some coffee.”

“Before you got married,” Stiles repeated. But she knew Stiles’s birthday, it’s been the lock combo. “I need to ask aunt Talia something,” he said. 

Picking up the few things he set to the side and the journal, taking them with him as he hurried down the attic stair. He stopped in his room, shoving his computer and the book in it before rushing out to the jeep.

Stiles had hardly put the jeep in park, turning the key and ran into the Hales’ house. He found Talia in the kitchen.

“Am I a druid,” he asked, feeling out of breath. 

Talia stopped pouring her coffee and turned to look at Stiles. “What,” she asked back, rubbing her eyes, still not fully awake.

“Am I a druid? Was my mom a druid?” He needed to know. He needed answers. He felt like nobody was telling him the full truth and they hadn’t been his whole life.

“Stiles, where is this coming from?”

“I borrowed this book yesterday,” he said, pulling his backpack off and opening it, “and it talks about mates and bonds and other stuff and it was weird so I went looking online for more info. I found this reddit group of werewolves and druids and when I was reading stuff the druids talked about it all sounded familiar and it made sense so I looked through my mom’s stuff and I found her diaries. She wrote about being able to read palms to tell someone’s fate and she had a book about it written in polish and now I need to know if I might be a druid!”

“That… was a lot of words all at once,” Talia rubbed her eyes, letting her brain catch up. “You think you might be a druid?”

“Yes.”

“Because of something you read online?”

“Because of a lot of things I read but yes,” Stiles confirmed. He knew how it sounded so he started to add, “and I read—”

Taila cut him off. “How much sleep did you get last night,” she asked.

Stiles’s face turned red. He’d yet to go to bed at all. “That doesn't matter right now! I—”

“No. You are going to go take a nap, get into a logical headset and then we'll have this conversation,” Talia told him, going back to fixing her coffee

“I'm in a perfectly reasonable headset right now,” Stiles argued. “Look,” he opened his mom’s journal, flipping a few pages, and read, “ Babunia taught me more about palm reading today. Mom is sure it’s all silly luck and chance that babunia gets things right. I think there’s something to it. She told me things she’d have no way of knowing.”

“Stiles, I promise to answer all of your questions after you get some sleep,” Talia said calmly, trying to soothe his obvious nerves. “By the time you wake up, Adam will be making food, too, and he might be able to answer things I can't. Go take a nap, pup.”

“Would you just listen to me,” Stiles yelled. It shocked both of them. He’d never yelled at her like that. “I’m sorry. I just need you to listen. I’m trying to tell you something!”

Talia took a deep breath and set her coffee cup down. “I think that’s about enough,” she said firmly. “I understand that you’re upset, but you have never yelled at me like that and you will not do it again. You need to go get some sleep now, because this is not like you at all.”

Stiles took a breath. “Can I finish what I was trying to say?”

“Calmly?”

“Yes,” he sighed and Talia looked at him, waiting. 

And maybe the lack of sleep was wearing on him more than he knew. It took Stiles a few minutes to collect and organize his thoughts before he spoke. “I read some of my mom’s journals and what she wrote about you. Did you know she was able to predict the future?”

Talia nodded, “I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Stiles asked. He felt lied to.

“Your mother was learning a few spells and palm reading from your grandmother and it all came so naturally, but it all weighed very heavily on her. She felt that knowing her own future did more harm than good and she didn’t want that for you,” Talia told him, having to swallow the lump in her throat. She still remembered holding her crying best friend like it was yesterday. “She didn’t want you to know because she wanted you to be happy.”

“But it’s part of me, like being a wolf is part of you,” he said. “Why would that be bad for me?”

Talia started to say more but stopped as she took Stiles’s appearance in. “Oh, little one, you’re shaking like a leaf,” she said worriedly, rubbing his arms. She frowned, looked Stiles over once more. He was still so young. 

“I’m sorry, you found out this way,” she sighed and hugged him. “Claudia wanted to protect you,” she whispered, “sometimes we make mistakes. That doesn’t mean we’re not trying.” 

Talia held Stiles, waiting for him to pull away. Instead, she felt him falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Talia told Stiles everything she knew about Claudia’s premonitions and palm reading, which wasn’t much. She knew that Claudia’s paternal grandmother was teaching her and that her mother thought it was a waste of time. She knew that Claudia had books on the topic and, when she thought about it a bit longer, she thought there might be some of Claudia’s books in the Hale library. She’d found them for Stiles by the next day; she felt like she couldn’t sleep until she found them. 

Stiles also found himself trading out the book about mates for another. He needed to know more, especially since Derek had one. 

He wondered who it could be, finding himself getting stuck on the thought. He couldn’t get it out of his mind. Every time he saw Derek, his mind wandered. How would it change things? What if Derek’s mate didn’t want him spending time around Stiles because of his crush? Fuck, was that why things had been weird between them? 

Noah helped Stiles get into contact with some of his mom’s family back in Poland. He managed to find a distant cousin who was also learning magic– though she called herself a spark. Her name was Aldona and she’d been talking to Stiles about how she started learning. She even taught him to sing the nursery rhyme Claudia used to sing to him.

Most of the books and resources he'd gotten from his mom's family were in Polish, making learning any of it a process. 

With Peter and Talia helping too, Stiles learned about his family's magic and a lot of Polish. 

He spent nearly every spare second either pouring over grimoires and translating his books from polish to english or in the backyard– where Talia insisted– practicing smaller spells. Even doing homework with Scott and Cora became half dedicated to trying new spells.

The only person spending more time in the Hale library than Stiles was Derek, who was simultaneously trying to deal with Stiles being his mate and studying for the ACT. The only issues with Stiles being right there meant the room smelt like his crappy cologne and the swirl of his emotions and all he could hear was Stiles’s mumbling as he read and sighing if frustration and yawning tiredly and all of Derek’s senses were full of Stiles. It was all he could think about which would not help his ACT score. 

It was late when Stiles finally decided to break the awkward silence hanging between him and Derek. The house was quiet as it neared midnight. It was just the two of them left awake, giving them some mercyful privacy.

Even though Derek wasn't sitting at his usual desk, Stiles knew where he was. He easily found Derek tucked into the corner between the bookshelf and the wall. The shelf beside him held all the books Derek didn't have room for in his bedroom. 

Stiles looked at the spines, some worse for wear than others, and remembered how they used to be. Before the divide between them grew. 

Derek would sit on the end of the couch, reading to himself, until Stiles and Cora would come along. They'd annoy him and pull him out of his book and then ask him to read to them. Two years made a real difference In elementary school. Derek would complain but eventually stumbled through a few chapters for them– ten year old Derek had a major lisp.

Their little story times had actually been the reason Stiles started reading a lot of series he loved– Eragon, Merlin, Percy Jackson. 

With that thought, Stiles found Derek’s eye on him. He smiled, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. 

“Do you remember Cora and I making you read to us,” Stiles asked, his eyes still searching the shelves.

“It was more you than Cor,” he answered quietly, his eyes never leaving Stiles. “She never cared for fantasy books.”  

Stiles huffed a laugh. “I do recall her saying reading about magic felt too much like studying,” he said. Stiles started to say more but couldn’t quite get the words out. Instead, he sat there, chewing his lip and trying to build the courage to say what he needed to. 

Derek could tell Stiles wanted to say something, so he waited, silently studying his face. It was weird. He’d been looking at Stiles for fifteen years and each time he found something different. This time, he noticed how Stiles’s face was thinning out, losing the round softness of a child, and growing sharper. He saw a sleepless paleness and new freckles from the sunlight. Derek found himself counting the freckles, 17… 18… 19… 

The light smell of blood and Stiles’s sigh pulled Derek’s attention first to his eyes then to his lips and to the bloody finger that had just touched the broken skin of his lips. Derek shifted to sit up more, unconsciously shifting closer to Stiles. Derek’s bent knee leaned against Stiles’s. His hand carefully, slowly, reached for Stiles’s face.

Stiles let Derek’s hand turn his face so they were looking at each other. Stiles’s breath caught in his throat at how close they were, at the unmissable fact that Derek’s eyes were looking at his lips and not his eyes, at the way Derek’s eyebrows knit together. 

Stiles licked his lips, cleaning away the blood. He felt keenly aware of his pulse in his lips and the barely there ache. In a moment it was gone. Stiles closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders falling. The pain slipped away, all of the pain in his body fell away… 

No, it was pulled away.

His eyes opened and Stiles leaned back, away from Derek’s touch. “Don’t do that,” he mumbled, still feeling stuck in the short bit of peace. When he met Derek’s eyes, the hurt they held made Stiles wish he hadn’t moved. “I just… I don’t need help healing. I can deal with the pain on my own.”

“I know,” Derek said just as quietly and Stiles’s heart skipped a beat. 

He knew. When he’d said that to Cora and Scott, they’d all but called him weak. Derek didn’t.

Derek pulled into himself, trying to seem as small as possible. “Sorry, I just… I know you don’t need me too. I just thought–” Derek squeezed his eyes shut. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Stiles noticed how Derek pulled away and all the feelings he’d been entertaining for that moment were crushed all over again. Derek has a mate, he reminded himself and he moved away just like Derek had. 

“It’s probably good we keep that distance huh,” Stiles said, trying to sound joking but he couldn’t fully hide the disappointment in his tone. When Derek’s eyes snapped back to him with confusion, Stiles hid behind a smile. “Pretty sure your mate wouldn’t be too happy with the smell of me covering you,” he said and forced a laugh.

Derek’s mind ran a gauntlet of emotions in a few short moments. Stiles wanted to keep distance because he thought Derek’s mate wouldn’t like them being close? How was Stiles so smart and so stupid? How had it gotten that twisted? How could Derek want anyone else? And, there it was, the golden opportunity he never thought would come. In this moment, he could tell Stiles he is Derek’s mate. It would be embarrassing for just a second and then they could laugh and move past it together.

“That’s probably for the best,” Derek said, his stomach twisting into knots. Everything in him wanted to tell Stiles and pull him closer and smell like him forever. 

“We’re still friends, though. I told you, you can’t get rid of me that easy,” Stiles said, though he wasn’t so sure of the words now. 

He was trying to throw his feelings away. Friends. They’re friends and nothing more. He didn’t know if he could survive that. He’d have to. Derek isn’t his, he never was. They’d been here before, saying they were friends until they inevitably had little moments that threatened to ruin it. But if Derek was with someone else, these moments couldn’t happen anymore.

“Is she nice,” Stiles asked, the words sounding painful.

“Who,” Derek asked in turn. His brows knitted together in confusion and worry. Was the hurt in Stiles’’s voice his fault?

“Your mate,” he swallowed down the regret and tried to make himself seem happy. Derek was his friend after all, he should be happy for him. “Because, if she’s not, I might have to object.”

Derek sighed. “They’re… something.”

The time seemed to stretch on, neither sure of the conversation or what should be said next. Stiles didn’t want to push for more than Derek was comfortable sharing and Derek didn’t know how to take part in the conversation since it would be talking about Stiles to Stiles.

How would he describe Stiles? “They’re sarcastic and funny. They make jokes even when it’d be better not to. They call me out when I act like an idiot,” Derek said, looking at the rows and rows of books. 

“Good. You need someone who’ll tell you to get it together sometimes.” Just thought it would always be me dying on his tongue before he said it. 

“Ya,” Derek agreed… “They’re smart, too. Like, really smart. I don’t think anyone else sees the extent of it, even them. It’s not that they’re just book smart, either. They understand people, how to help or hurt and get what they want. They can read people as easy as breathing, like they can read people’s intentions in a glance. Sometimes it’s scary how right they are.”

“So you fell for the queen bee,” Stiles teased. “Not exactly your usual type, is it?”

“You’d think they’d be at the top, right? But they’re not. Even if they could make everyone like them with a little acting, they don’t. They keep the friends they always had,” Derek smiled to himself, letting his every thought slip out. “They don’t care about people who don’t like them for who they are. They’re themselves– as nerdy and clumsy and danger prone as that is. And sometimes I loose myself in how easily I do what they want and I have to stop and realize that the idiot isn’t doing anything different to draw me in or make me feel that way, it’s just how much I want to be near them. Like everything and nothing makes sense when I’m next to them. And I know everyone takes about how feelings run off on you and teenage hormones and a first love and the mate tie makes it all feel stronger but when he gets hurt, it’s like I could give all of this up– the pack, the power, the money, everything– just to protect him. Stiles—” he caught himself before he said more, but he’d already said too much.

“Wow, you really like,” Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, “him.” Stiles cleared his throat and stood up. He closed his burning eye when he knew Derek wouldn’t see. Derek was really truly in love with someone. “I better let you study. I need to… do something else, anyway”

Derek watched Stiles leave. He’d said too much.

The change is Stiles was easy to see. He was quieter, obviously distracted. He was thinking, worrying about something. He spent more time outside, practicing the few small spells and reading about them. He was restless, even more than normal. It wasn’t as easy to see the cause, everyone giving it their own cause. 

Talia feared the same hopelessness that had eaten at Claudia was starting to eat at Stiles. Adam thought the lack of sleep and missed doses of medication were causing too much stress. Cora thought Stiles was planning something, maybe their plan to sneak into prom or a way to research the kanima without getting found out. Derek thought Stiles had figure him out and was purposely avoiding any talking about it. Isaac figured it was stress from homework and tests as midterms drew closer. Malia recognised the even so slight sent of affection clouding Stiles and was wondering who his new obsession was. Ethan thought it was all the running coach was making Stiles do for falling asleep in class only to ride the bench at every game. Aiden figured it was the stress of Sheriff being out nearly every night hunting something he wasn’t prepared for. Peter didn’t care, but was excited to see the inevitable explosion of the pent up emotions. 

There was a bit of truth to each of the theories. There was just too much happening at once and not enough space in his brain. He was trying to figure out how to carve runes into objects to charm them. He’ thrown himself into the magic to avoid the thought of Derek and how in love he was with not him. He was staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning. Some night he didn’t get any sleep at all trying to figure out what to do. He was acutely aware that while he was trying and failing at a protection rune, his dad and Talia and Peter were out hunting the kanima and he dreaded the night they didn’t come home. 

He spent night after night looking for some way to help. He read everything he could find about healing magic from the books they’d willingly given him and then he went looking for what they were hiding. He knew they were hiding something because of the look they gave him. He’d asked about stronger healing spells, about how to save someone on the brink of death. They’d looked worried and changed the subject too quickly. He knew there was something, they just wouldn’t tell him.

He was drifting off to sleep in class, missing lectures and falling behind on reading and homework. He’d seen the worried looks from teachers. Even Mr. Harris had been taking it easy on him. His English teacher had kept him after class one day to see if he was okay, pointing out that he’s switched between English, Polish and even drew a rune or two on a recent assignment. 

He’d searched the shelves of the Hale three times, even trying to let his magic lead the way to finding it. He got better at listening to his magic, pulling at the invisible line leading him to what he needed. It started with easy things, finding answers in textbooks or getting the perfect article for a paper. Easy because he had an idea of where to look and what he needed. 

Then he tried harder, finding missing keys or old books he’d loved. Things he knew well but didn’t necessarily know where they’d be.

He tested himself. Slowly, he looked for things harder and harder to find. He found an old toy he’d lost years ago. Found change lost in the yard and four leaf clovers in the grass. Things he hadn’t a clue where they’d be but knew what he wanted to find. Only then was he sure he could find what he wanted.

He didn’t know what day it was, let alone when his next test was. He’d gotten up and started driving to the school two Saturdays in a row. He wasn’t even sure he could trust himself driving with how tired and sleep deprived he was. 

February faded into March and the Kanima still hadn’t been captured. The town was growing nervous as the death toll increase. A couple had been killed recently. The woman that died was pregnant. 

Parents were scared for theirs and their children's lives. The high schoolers were scared prom was going to be canceled. 

The deaths weren’t just weighing on the police department, the pack was feeling it too. Talia and Peter spent most days locked in the office trying to find a pattern or out on patrol. 

One night, when they’d left for Patrol, Stiles got curious. He managed to sneak into Talia’s office and started to look over everything they had. 

He looked at where people had been killed, where the attacks had been, and then he looked at who had been killed. He swore he recognised some of the names. He looked around the room but didn’t see Talia’s computer. He decided that sneaking out to get his and sneaking back in was too risky. Instead, he wrote the names down on a paper and shoved it in his pocket.

He opened the door and stepped out, trying to close it as quietly as he could. 

“What are you doing,” a voice whispered and Stiles jumped.

The door almost slammed in his shock but the person next to him stopped it before it could.

“Why were you in mom’s office,” they asked and, as Stiles’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw Derek. 

“Shit, you scared me,” Stiles sighed. “I was trying to help. Some of the names sounded familiar so I’m going to look them up, see what I find.”

“You don’t think mom and uncle Peter have tried that,” Derek asked in a whisper.

“Sure they did,” Stiles shrugged, “but they don’t have the Stilinski magic– technically the Gajos magic– but regardless. I can find things others can’t.”

Derek looked at Stiles skeptically. “You’re not that good at magic. You can’t just find things on command.”

“Oh ya,” Stiles asked, “watch this,” he said, leading the way to the library.

Derek cursed under his breath, gently closing the office door and following Stiles. He watched Stiles turn on one of the lamps in the room. It provided a modest amount of light. Derek could see perfectly fine by the dim light but knew it would only give enough light for Stiles to read if he sat under it.

“For my first trick, I will find a book about banshees,” Stiles declared, turning to walk along the shelves and Derek sighed.

“Stiles, we have school tomorrow,” he whispered, “we both need to go back to bed. Before anyone else wakes up.”

“What’s gonna happen? Your mom catches us in the library,” Stiles asked. “We’ll be back in bed before anyone knows.”

Even through his own protests, Derek didn’t move. He stood in the dim light, watching Stiles walk, his fingers dragging over the spines of the books. Stiles walked like that for a few minutes, waiting for something to stop him. 

He didn’t expect that something to be a stack of books in the dark. His foot caught on the stack and he tripped, stubbing his toe. 

“Stiles, are you okay,” Derek asked, hurrying to his side. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles hissed, holding his hurt foot. “I stubbed my toe. Damn, that hurt.” Stiles looked at his foot and noticed the stack of books he’d run into, seeing one had fallen. He forgot about his hurt toe and pick up the book. “What’s this doing here,” he mumbled. 

“What,” Derek asked, looking at the year book in Stiles’s hands. “This from 2006,” he mumbled.

“Nobody in this house was in high school in 2006,” Stiles said. Adding, “not unless someone’s keeping some serious secrets.” 

Stiles opened the book, mindlessly flipping through the pages. He stopped on one and looked at the names. He squinted at one and walked back over to the lamp. 

“Look,” Stiles said, pointing at one of the pictures. He pulled the paper out of his pocket and held it up to the book. “Tucker Cornish is in this yearbook and on the list of deaths.”

“That’s one person. It could mean nothing,” Derek said, shaking his head.

Stiles flipped a few more pages, looking for the rest of the names. He got the the team pictures. “Bingo. Swim team,” he said, pointing to the picture. “Look, everyone the Kanima has killed is in this picture and I bet everyone else on this list is on the chopping block.”

“That’s not many people then,” Derek said, “half of them have left Beacon Hills and most of the ones that stayed are dead.”

“I told you I would find it,” Stiles said.

“Find it? You tripped.”

“Ya and we found this book because I tripped,” he said, looking up at Derek. Fuck, he was so close. Friends, Stiles repeated in his head. They were just friends.

“And why, exactly are you two not only awake but looking for something this late on a school night,” Talia asked, walking into the library.

“I told you we should have gone to bed,” Derek muttered.

“In my office, now,’ she told them. Looking at Derek and adding, “I’m going to get your father.”

Stiles and Derek found themselves on the couch in the office under the glare of both Talia and Adam only minutes later.

“So, you not only snuck into my office and went through police files but you also decided to write down the unreleased names of the victims,” Talia asked, anger clear in her voice.

“Okay, so maybe I did do that but, more importantly, we figured out the pattern,” Stiles said. “That has to be worth something!”

“It’s a school night,” Adam said, frowning at the pair. Honestly, that might be worse than Talia’s lecture. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I have insomnia,” Stiles said blandly. “It gets worse with anxiety and with all the murders happening… not exactly a low stress environment…”

“You should have said something. I could have helped,” Adam told Stiles sympathetically. He looked at Derek and waited for his excuse.

“I…” He tried to think of something less creepy than Stiles’s heartbeat disappeared when he went into the office and I freaked out. “I was having a hard time sleeping too,” he lied, meeting his moms eyes and silently begging her not to push it.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Talia told Derek. Her eyes flicked between Stiles and Derek. She took a deep breath. “Tell me what you found.”

Stiles looked at her with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Go on, before I decide better,” she said.

Stiles, true to himself, started to ramble about the entire story of how they figure it out until he finally got to the important part. “And nobody in this house was in high school in 2006, so it was weird that the year book was in your library. We opened it and I was flipping the pages and we found one of the names from the list so we looked for more, which is when we found the team pictures! More specifically, the 2006 state swim team picture which has everyone that’s been killed including Mr Lahey,” Stiles said, holding the book out to Talia. 

She took it and read the names too. “Who would want to kill the swim team,” she mumbled. 

“Well, it has to be the kanima’s master,” Stiles stated the obvious. “So, it was thinking that we should look at the police reports from that year where they responded to any of swim teams houses, starting with Mr. Lahey since we already know he was kind of a crappy person.”

Talia gave Stiles the same skeptical looked Derek had. “We? Oh no. you’re investigation is over. The adults will look into it.”

“But I help,” Stiles objected. “I found this so I should get to help you find out more! Haven’t I proved that I’m good at finding thing? I can help!”

“This isn’t your responsibility,” Talia told him. “You should be worried about… Prom.”

Stiles slumped in his seat on the couch. “I’m a sophomore. We don’t get to go to prom.”

“Maybe someone will ask you,” Adam suggested, glancing at Derek and he flushed, looking back at his dad with big eyes.

“Ya, right,” Stiles snorted. “The only reason I’d get asked now is as a backup and I’d rather not be someone’s second choice.”

“Oh, you’re definitely someone’s first choice,” Talia mumbled. Stiles didn’t hear it but Derek did. 

It was official. Derek’s parents were trying to put his feelings for Stiles on display. God, just kill him now. Ya, this is my prom date, Stiles. Oh ya, he is fifteen and I’m seventeen. No, it’s totally not creepy! And there was the nausea. No. Nope. He just can’t do it! He might be able to get past it when their eighteen and nineteen but then they’d be eighteen and twenty and that was weird all over again.

“Why don’t we get you some hot tea,” Adam said to Stiles. “I think I have some meant to help you get to sleep.” 

Adam took Stiles to the kitchen, leaving Talia and Derek alone. The closed and they were left in confidence.

“Why were you up,” Talia asked, crossing her arms.

Derek sighed, slumping against the couch. “You know why,” he mumbled. 

“I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Don’t make me say it…”

Talia raised an eyebrow at her son, waiting. 

“Stiles,” Derek sighed. “When he came in here, I couldn’t hear him anymore.”

Talia squinted, trying to make sense of it. “You woke up because you couldn’t hear Stiles anymore? How did a lack of noise wake you up? He was hardly making noise.”

Derek’s face burned red. “He was reading. I fell asleep listening to him mumble to himself. I left my door open…”

Talia nodded. At least they were still in the house. Lord knows how many times she snuck out of the house to see Adam at Derek’s age and Laura had managed to sneak out once or twice to her knowledge. 

“Fine,” she sighed. “You haven’t asked Stiles to go to Prom with you?”

“What? No,” Derek blurted. 

“Are you going to?”

“No! I don’t want to make things weird between us,” he hissed.

“And yet you listen to him talking to himself to go to sleep,” Talia asked.

“That can’t leave this room. Also, what is with you and dad trying to tell him for me? And him borrowing the books about mates?”

Talia held back a laugh, “the books are all Stiles. You know he’s damn near unstoppable when he wants to know something. Would you rather I let him pester you for answers or should I keep answering him?”

“Fine, but you two need to stop trying to clue him in! Shouldn’t I get to decide when to tell him,” Derek asked. 

“Then tell him before he drives himself crazy thinking your avoiding him because of your mate,” Talia told him and Derek sighed, knowing it was too late.

The irony was, that kind of was why Derek wasn’t spending as much time with Stiles. 

**********************

In planning their prom night heist, Stiles needed to know the plans for the police detail that would be watching the school. It was never much to worry about– all the rookies that were still on grunt duty, one or two senior officers, and an abundance of breathalyzers– but, with the Kanima on the loose, it was no-doubt to be more robust this year. 

So Stiles, being the loving and caring son he is, brought his dad dinner right after he’d responded to a call. Oops, guess he’ll just have to sit in his dad’s office to wait for him, all alone in the room where the plan for patrol routes would be. It was too bad, really.

Stiles was careful not to move more than he needed to, thought he doubted his dad would notice with how messy the desk was. Three layers deep and half under the keyboard was the schedule. Stiles Sapped a picture of it, noting that his dad was on the patrol list. 

Man, this would be easier than they thought. They wouldn’t have to sneak past Noah if he was already working. 

Car lights hit the window and Stiles hurried to sit down. He pulled their food out of plastic bag and set it on the desk. He made sure that the plastic bag was under his dad’s portion so it wouldn’t get on the papers. 

Stiles popped the lid off his own portion of leftover lasagne and started to pick at it. 

Sheriff walked into the office and gave Stiles a skeptical look. 

“Hey dad,” Stiles said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“So, you brought me food and waited just to eat with me? No ulterior motives,” he asked, crossing his arms.

Stiles shook his head. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t eating greasy fast food or vending machine junk again. You aren’t that young anymore.”

“I’m only forty-five, kid. I’m not old yet,” Sheriff sighed, sitting down at his desk.

“You might not be old but you’re not exactly young either.”

“Stiles.”

“I think the only thing older than you in this station might be this desk. Maybe the filing cabinets.”

“I get it Stiles,” he sighed, popping the lid off his food. “You really didn’t go snooping around my desk?”

“No. Why would I,” Stiles asked back, trying and failing to sound innocent.

“Because Talia told me about you and Derek sneaking around her office and library.”

“I would hardly call that sneaking. Besides, I was helping! I found the connection between all of the victims. If you would just let me help—”

“You shouldn't be involved, Stiles,” Noah cut him off. “You should be studying and hanging out with your friends and being a kid.”

“I can do both!”

“No, you won’t.”

“Really,” Stiles asked, challenging his dad with a look, “and how do you plan to stop me.”

Noah met Stiles’s look, “I’ll ground you from magic.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I’ll take the books you have about it.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “you’re going to take mom’s books from me? The ones that should be mine since I got the magic from her?”

Noah’s eyes narrowed on Stiles because he was right there. “Then no library.”

“I don’t go to the library unless you mean aunt Talia’s library which opens a whole other can of worms if you’re not letting be go to her house,” Stiles shrugged.

“No computer.”

“I have to type out an essay.”

“I’ll turn off the wifi.”

“I need it for school.”

“I’ll put a tracker in your jeep.”

“We both know you can’t afford that.”

“I’ll take your jeep keys,” Noah said.

“Dad,” Stiles leaned on the desk, “do you remember when when the key broke and we couldn’t find the spare so I had to hotwire the jeep?”

Noah glared at his son. He was at a loss.

“Any other ideas,” Stiles asked.

“Blackmail?”

“Whatever you have, Cora has worse.”

“Would you take a bribe?”

Stiles huffed a laugh, “you couldn’t afford me.”

Noah’s phone rang and he sighed. He answered the phone and instantly sat up. “You’re sure it’s dead?” Something that was said made him look at Stiles, a sad but relieved look crossed his face. “He was just a kid… Alright, I’ll meet you out there,” Noah said standing up and grabbing his jacket. 

Stiles stood up too, waiting expectantly. 

“Go to the Hales’ house, nowhere else,” Noah told his son. “I’m serious, Stiles. Nowhere else.” 

Noah left Stiles standing in his office and went to meet Talia and Peter in the woods. They killed the kanima but were left with a dead teenager.

Talia and Peter met him at the forest’s edge and started towards where the body was.

“I can’t believe– I mean Jackson Whittimore,” Noah sighed. “He’s the same age as the our kids. And he’s dead?”

“Peter killed him,’ Talia said blandly. 

“I’m so very sorry, sister. Next time, I’ll just allow it to kill me,” Peter snarked.

“If he was bitten, shouldn’t he have turned into a werewolf like Scott,” Noah asked, stepping over a branch.

“Not necessarily,” Peter said. “Depending on the person, the bite has different effects. Some are like my dear daughter—”

“And her insane mother,” Talia mumbled.

Peter rolled his eyes at his sister. “Yes, and Corinne. They are were-coyotes, of course Malia got that from her mother who was turned. Something in who they are made them coyotes instead of wolves. Similarly, the Whittimore boy became a Kanima which we know is caused by a lack of self, of knowing who you are”

“Wait, so the kids is confused about who he is and becomes a monster,” Noah asked.

“He wasn’t not a monster, just lost,” Talia said sadly. “If we had known who he was sooner, we might have been able to save the poor pup.” She took a breath. “He should be just over here.”

The three came into the clearing and both wolves froze. 

Noah looked around, “Uh, you’re sure this is where he was? Because I don’t see a dead anything.”

“I’m certain,” Talia said stiffly. “He was here, drawn to the Nemeton.”

“Well, this isn't good,” Peter mumbled. 

“Gee, ya think,” Talia remarked sarcastically. “Do you know what those things turn into?”

“Is it worse,” Noah asked, already cringing.

Both siblings nodded. 

“Exactly how much worse as we talking?”

“Oh, not too bad. Just some wings, talons, and a mace-like tail,” Peter said sarcastically. “But, on the bright side, no harm done! The boy isn't dead so there's no need to be mad at me,” Peter tried, earning glares from Noah and Talia.

“We need to warn the kids”

Chapter Text

Talia’s office was a mess of voices yelling over themselves. With all of the adults in the pack, not just the twelve that normally help hunt, opinions were even more varied than normal and being said much more firmly with no compromise in sight.

“They are children ! There is no reason for them to know!”

“If you tell them, they'll try to get involved!”

“If we don't tell them, they could be in danger! They have the right to know.”

“They'll be in more danger if we continue this nonsense of allowing teenagers to fight adult battles.”

“These battles will soon be theirs, too. Laura is grown and Derek is nearly there too!”

“Eighteen is far from being grown .”

“It’s too risky to allow they future of the pack to put on the line allowing them to fight!”

“How can they ever be proper leaders if they don’t know what’s really happening?”

“What happens if the children get hurt? Who take responsibility then?”

“They’re werewolves,” Abram said, “they will always be in danger or have you forgotten about hunters?” He looked at each of his nieces and nephews who all seemed to step down from the argument.

Except Hannah. “Oh, please spare me your righteous lecture. The Argents and Caliveras hunt those that cause trouble!”

“Not all abide by that rule,” Abram shot back.

“Like who?”

“Gerard Argent,” Lousia said.

“Kate Argent,” Ahlai added.

“Not to mention the assumptions that will no doubt be made about Derek as he grows,” Peter said, glaring at his cousin but she only brisled further. “Do you truly believe any hunter will see blue eyes and wait long enough to hear his story?”

“What happened was a tragedy and never would have happened had he not—”

“That’s enough,” Talia said, standing from her desk. “We will tell the older bunch, the high schoolers, but not the younger children. Yasmine and Tobias are right, there is no need to worry those who are too young to do anything about it, but the teenagers– especially Laura and Derek who intend to take over this pack– need to know. They go to school with the boy every day and they may know how we get through to him.”

“You’re going to let them fight,” Hannah asked.

“If Laura would like to, yes, but the others will be kept away from it as much as possible,” Talia told her, leaving no room for discussion.

“Between Cora and Stiles, I doubt they won’t find a fight on their own,” Peter said, meeting his sister’s glare without flinching. “Might as well teach them to survive the trouble they'll undoubtedly find.” She may be the pack alpha but she was still his sister and he’d be damned were he to give-in without a fight.

Hannah scoffed, “You want to let them get involved after what happened last time? That boy has been nothing but trouble since he started crawling.”

“At least we never had to convince him to shift back into a human for school,” Abram mumbled,looking at his niece.

“Well, even so,” Hannah blustered, “he has no place being involved in pack matters!”

“Uh oh…”

Tobias sighed, muttering “here we go again.”

“His mother was our Emissary,” Taliasaid with a sharp glare.

“Hardly! The woman refused to practice magic, not to mention she held the title for a measly ten years. We've had pets that have been around longer. Deaton is our Emissary.”

“She died, Hannah,” Talia yelled. “I know you have little respect for anyone who hasn't risked life and limb—”

“Which Stiles has, by the way,” Peter interjected.”

“Even so, I'm sure you can respect my saying he has a place here because his mother had a place. Not to mention he is now being trained to be Laura’s Emissary.”

“And that place will be even more assured if Derek has anything to say about it,” Peter mumbled to Abram, who chuckled.

“He is a lot like his mother,” Abram whispered back with a smile. 

**********************

“I got the patrol route from my dad's office when I took him food,” Stiles said, glancing at Scott. “Now we just hope there's good news on the Kanima front,” he mumbled, pulling into the Hales’ driveway, and Scott shook his head.

“Based on how many people are here, I’m assuming it's not good news,” Scott said, looking at what was sure to be a full pack assembly.

“I still might be. Talia called my dad earlier and he ran out.” Stiles said, getting out of the jeep. 

Grabbing their stuff, the two walked towards a meeting that held the fate of their prom night plans.

Cora met them at the door, closing it quickly behind herself. “Prepare to be ambushed,” she warned them, the sound of children running around loud enough to be heard outside. “Aunt Yuri is in mom’s office for the meeting so we’re on our own with the little demons.”

“All of them,” Stiles asked, peering in at the chaos inside. 

“Yes,” Malia huffed, escaping to the porch too. She closed the door behind her and joined the other three. “And I'm half convinced one of them ate my homework.”

Scott laughed. “Alright, you got me. I believed you, I fell for the joke.”

“Oh, it's no joke Scotty,” Stiles said. “Between teething, the terrible twos, and werewolf amounts of energy…” He shook his head. “What are we in for, Cor?”

“The middle schoolers are all on their phones, pretending we don't exist. The toddlers are harassing Boyd and Isaac. Dad is trying to help them but the Littles are obsessed . Out of the middle bunch, Grant got Erica to paint his nails, Caroline is interrogating Derek about his homework, and Adriana and Julia are trying to get Aiden to play dolls but half of what they're saying is in Spanish and he's clueless,” Cora said, laughing at the last bit.

“Why are they speaking Spanish,” Scott asked.

“They’re, like, six-ish. They probably don't even realize they're doing it,” Stiles said. “I'm more worried about Erica influencing Grant. That kid's already a menace.”

“Oh, he's so much worse,” Malia scoffed. “The shithead is gonna start shifting soon.”

“Oh,” Stiles grimaced.

“What ‘oh’,” Scott asked , looking between the three. 

“Werewolf puberty is a special kind of hell,” Malia said, crossing her arms. “You didn’t know yet, so you didn't get to experience the middle schoolers starting their shifts.”

Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder, “remember when you first started shifting and your emotions would run off on you? Now imagine that, while you're trying to get the hang of that, puberty hits. And, now that they're shifting, all of them are trying to find their place in the pack hierarchy.”

“Plus a growing superiority complex because of all the natural strength of being a ‘wolf,” Cora added on.

Scott nodded. “That sounds like a nightmare,” he mumbled.

“Well, get ready because there's five of them in the thralls of it and one who's just starting just beyond the door,” Stiles said, half joking.

“It is the literal worst, which is why I call them the demons.”

“Carter and Jayden aren't that bad,” Stiles shrugged.

“That's because the twins are human,” Malia said, rolling her eyes.

“Which is exactly why they aren't as bad. The pack could use a few more humans if you ask me,” Stiles said with a grin. “Someone has to break the mountain ash lines.”

“Wait, how are they human? I thought Adam was the only human in the pack,” Scott said, fully confused.

“He is,” Cora nodded, “but their dad was bitten and their mom is a born wolf.”

Scott looked between the others. “So, only a bitten wolf can have human children?”

“No, born wolves can have human children too, just not as often,” Cora explained and Scott looked even more lost.

“Guess we won't have to deal with the littles, we'll be too busy explaining werewolf genetics,” Stiles laughed. “You see, Scotty, when one born wolf loves another born wolf—”

**********************

Talia heard all of the teens into the living room as she helped get all of the younger kids and their parents out of the house. By the time she'd come back, they'd settled into their usual patterns.

Laura, Erica, and Lydia were sitting on one side of the coffee table, painting their nails and probably coming up with a plan to take over the world. Every few minutes, Lydia would look over Malia's math homework, which she was struggling through on the other side of the coffee table, and help her with the next step.

Ethan and Isaac were on the couch, sharing a pair of earbuds and watching something on Ethan’s phone. Stiles had five bucks that said it was Smosh. Boyd was sitting to their left trying to read his book.

Derek was going through his ACT prep book and Aiden was trying to read over his shoulder. 

Cora and Stiles were in a beanbag chair that she’d dragged down from her room while Scott opted for sitting on the arm of the couch next to Isaac.

“Wow, we got the whole crew here again,” Stiles remarked, sitting on the beanbag chair with Cora. “Hope we’re not splitting up and looking for clues again because that went so well last time.”

“None of you will be going anywhere or looking for anything,” Talia said firmly. “You’re all here so we can give you information to help keep you safe.”

“And because we need information from you,” Peter added.

“So we can't help but you also want our help,” Erica asked as if it were the dumbest possible request– which it kinda was.

“So glad we understand each other,” Peter said and Stiles couldn't help but roll his eyes.

“We have discovered that Kanima is one of your classmates and we need you to tell us how to get through to them, seeing as Talia is firmly against killing the boy.”

“I'm still down with the kill it plan,” Stiles said with a raised hand.

“For the last time, we are not killing anybody,” Talia huffed, looking like it wasn’t the first– or the tenth– time she’d heard that, probably Hannah and definitely Peter. 

“So who is it,” Lydia asked.

Talia looked at the kids and sighed, “Jackson Whittemore. Now that we know who he is, we just have to remind the Kanima.”

“You’re joking,” Stiles said deadpan.

“I assure you, I'm not.”

“Jackson’s the kanima? Jackson? Rich, privileged, better-than-tho Jackson is the kanima?”

“Is there something wrong with the idea,” Peter asked.

“Only that he has everything he could possibly want,” Stiles scoffed. “Newest car, newest shoes, newest clothes, perfect grades, perfect family, perfect girlfriend, and he's the lacrosse star.”

“Uh, we broke up a while ago,” Lydia said. “You need to use substitution so you can prove they're supplementary angles,” she said, pointing out the misstep in Malia’s work.

“He also lost the star lacrosse player title. That's Scott now,” Cora added.

“Not to mention he's adopted,” Erica mumbled. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to her. “Why are you staring at me?”

“How do you know that? He didn't know until his parents said it accidentally,” Lydia asked her.

Erica looked at them skeptically. “This feels like a trap… I'll tell you as long as nobody snitches. My dad handles the Whittemore’s insurance and I wanted to know if they were those rich people who have kidnapping insurance– they do, by the way– and I saw the insurance pay out for Jackson’s parents’ death. You think he's rich now, wait til he turns eighteen and gets a hold of that trust,” she said with a huff, remembering just how much was waiting in that account.

“Have you snooped on all of us,” Scott asked.

“Of course not! Yours is through the hospital, Stiles and Isaac have government insurance from their parents, and I’d bet the Martins and Hales use private agencies,” she shrugged. “I can only look at files if my dad has them.”

“Financial stalking aside, where does that leave us,” Stiles asked. “What, do we compile all the information we can find about his birth parents and drop it on him?”

“There’s been worse plans,” Laura said. “You think you could do it with your magic intuition research skills?”

“Can I— You doubt me,” Stiles said with a smirk.

“No. The plan is, the adults will work to remind the Kanima of who he is.” Talia said. “You are all to keep out of it but we have decided that you can resume training. In the meantime, you will stay here until Peter and I have captured the Kanima. ”

“What about school,” Lydia asked.

“Forget that,” Erica chimed in. “If we have to stay home, that means I don’t have to take my history test tomorrow!”

“You’re still going to school,” Taila said, deadpan. “But you are to come straight back here after until.”

“ Straight might be hard for this group,” Stiles mumbled.

“What about Lacrosse?”

“I have a study group on Wednesday.”

“I have ROTC.”

“Ya, and I have a make-up test for math.”

“I need to ask Mrs. Ramos about being her Spanish class TA.”

“I just don’t want to,” Cora shrugged.

“You’ll be the death of me yet,” Talia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Then Stick to the buddy system and tell me when you’re going to be home.”

“And how exactly do you plan on capturing him if kanima venom and wolfsbane haven't worked,” Lydia asked, blowing on her nails to dry them faster. 

“Hey, did you bring the crackle polish,” Erica asked her.

“It’s in my bag,” Lydia said.

“I have never been happier to have been the second born than when watching you try to get the pups to listen,” Peter snickered.

“And you’ll be the first dead if you don’t shut up,” Talia threatened. 

“So what’s the plan to catch Kanima Jackson? It’d be much easier to catch him while he’s human,” Stiles said with a shrug.

“I believe that would be kidnapping,” Peter said. “I’m sure your father can explain the issue there, however it would be easier and Erica said they have insurance for it…”

“No chance in Hell,” Talia said, crossing her arms.

“I’m not allowed to kill, maim or kidnap the boy. Would manipulation work by chance,” Peter asked.

“From you? No. Me? Definitely,” Lydia said and Erica snorted a laugh.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m out of skills,” Peter said. “So, what is the plan, dear sister?”

“I…” Talia sighed, “I’m not sure.”

“Have you asked Deaton,” Derek asked. “Surely he has something about subduing the thing.”

Isaac looked at Scott and then to Talia. “He uses ketamine for dogs at the clinic. Surely enough of that would knock it out.”

“What about electricity,” Aiden asked. “It works on all of us, so wouldn’t that work?”

“The trouble with both of those options is that we would have to get close to the kanima to use it,” Talia said, shaking her head. 

“What if we used a dart gun for the ketamine like animal control?”

“Too small of a dose,” Talia explained. “We’d need to hit him with multiple shots and with its enhanced speed…”

“What if it was standing in water,” Ethan suggested. “Gives us a longer range for electricity.”

“It’s scared of water,” Stiles scoffed and all eyes turned to him. “What?”

“Why the hell would it be scared of water,” Maila asked, leaning back on one arm to look at Stiles.

“I don’t know. What do you think I am, the kanima whisperer,” Stiles asked back.

“Well how do you know it’s scared of water?”

“The same way I know half the guys in our school are scared of water,” Stiles said. “When it was chasing me at the high school, I hid in the locker room shower. I accidentally turned on the water and it turned and ran like Cora when someone steals her swedish fish,” he joked, earning an elbow in his side for the comment.

“Dude,” Scott mumbled, shaking his head.

Talia had intended to keep the teens away from trouble by telling them what was going on but she had only seemed to bring them farther into it. Truthfully, she should have known it would happen. She had possibly the most reckless group of teens– the reason most of them had been bitten in the first place– who thought they were invincible because they could heal rapidly.

She looked around at the bunch. They had got back to acting like normal teenagers as quickly as they started suggesting ways to incapacitate a threat. It worried her. She wasn’t sure if her heart could handle losing any of them. 

Chapter Text

Noah walked down the stairs and looked at the three teens laying on his couch. He looked at them skeptically. Cora was on one end of the couch and Stiles was leaning against her side with his feet in Scott’s lap at the other end of the couch.

“You kids aren’t going to do anything stupid tonight, are you,” Noah asked, his eyes narrowed at his son.

“Not unless you count watching ten hours of tv and only moving during commercials,” Stiles told him.

Noah took a moment to decide whether he believed him– definitely not– but what could he do? “Good. Keep it that way. I’ll be patrolling near the high school for prom. Stay here,” he said, leaving for work.

They didn’t move when the door closed. They didn’t move when Noah started the car or when he pulled out of the driveway.

“He turned the corner,” Cora said, all three of them jumped off the couch. 

Stiles pulled a box out from under the couch and set it on the table. He pulled his and Scott’s slacks and suit jackets out. Cora was already upstairs, pulling her dress bag out of the bathroom closet.

In thirty minutes they were dressed and ready to sneak into prom– well, Stiles and Scott were ready in ten but Cora wasn’t.

Stiles parked the jeep just inside the treeline near the lacrosse field and they ran to the school. Stiles had managed to wedge a student id– one he’d found dropped in the hall– between the doors so they didn’t latch fully, meaning they didn’t lock. 

They walked into the school, Stiles carefully keeping them out of the camera’s sight just in case. Stiles pulled on the hall door for the locker room and smiled to himself as it opened. He’d talked to Finstock just enough to make him forget about locking the door. 

They went silent as they entered the locker room, able to hear the teachers in the gym where prom would be held. Just to be sure they wouldn't be seen, they ducked into the shower’s corner of the locker room, blocking them from sight of the gym doors and Finstock’s office.

Scott looked at Cora with a smile and leaned in to whisper to Stiles “Harris is making fun of the theme to Mr. Westover’s wife. She picked the theme,” he explained.

“ Enchanted forest? I mean really, with everything that’s happened, ” Cora repeated mockingly for Stiles’s benefit.

“He has a point,” Stiles whispered.

“How long do we need to wait in here,” Cora asked, scrunching her nose. “Some of these guys must not know what a washing machine is.”

“Twenty minutes,” Stiles said, looking at the locker room clock. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three orange wristbands. “Here,” he said, giving Cora and Scott each one, “these are the admission bands. They thought these would be better than a stamp.”

“And what exactly are we going to do for twenty minutes crouched in this disgusting ass locker room shower,” Cora asked. 

Stiles smiled. “I’m going to read your palms like the excellent carnival psychic I’m becoming.” He’d become good at a lot of things. Things he couldn’t say.

Cora scoffed. “I’m enthralled. Please tell me my future.”

“You laugh but my mom predicted not only that your mom would end up with you six– and yes six, Laura, Der, you, Isaac, Ethan and Aiden– but she also knew when she would die. Scotty, you first.”

“I don’t want to know when I’m going to die,” Scott said, closing his fist close to his chest.

“Then I won’t tell you,” Stiles said and grabbed Scott’s wrist. Scott hesitantly let Stiles look at his palm. “Thank you. Alright, look. This is your heart line. Yours starts under your middle finger and is kinda waving so you fall in love easy and you’ll have a lot of relationships. There’s also these hashes so you’re gonna go through some shit.”

“What the hell dude?”

“That’s all you,” Stiles said holding his hands up, “I’m just reading it. This one’s your head line and it says you’re inconsistent but creative. Then your life line says—” Stiles blinked rapidly, images flashing through his mind.

“What? What’s it say,” Scott asked nervously.

Stiles looked up at Scott’s face. “It– uh– says you’re easily manipulated…” Scott would be manipulated a lot by… Stiles? 

“Isn’t there more stuff,” Cora asked. “Didn’t you say something about, like, knowing if you’ll be rich or something?”

“Your family’s already rich,” Scott shot back at her.

“What about marriage and kids and shit,” Cora asked.

Stiles nodded. “Ya, follow this line and—” More images flashed through Stiles’s head. He got up, managing to lean over a nearby trashcan before throwing up. 

“Stiles?”

“Shit, dude, are you okay?”

“Is Scott’s future that scary,” Cora teased, resting a hand on the back of Stiles’s neck like Talia would to comfort them. 

“Fine, I guess,” Stiles mumbled, trying to make sense of what he’d seen. 

It was him, except it wasn’t. Him hurting his friends, killing people. His family turning on him. It was… 

Was it because of the book he’d found?

He waited. He waited until Talia and Peter were on patrol. He waited until the others were asleep. He waited, building his intentions. 

He thought only about the spell books. He thought about the one Peter and Talia were hiding. He thought about healing spells. With every thought, the invisible pull turned a line to a string to a rope. 

Stiles grabbed the rope and followed it.

He moved carefully, stepping over each squeaky board with practiced efficiency. The rope led him to the stairs and he moved down them without a sound. It led him around the first floor to the basement stairs. He hesitated there. 

Why would a spell book be down there? Because they wanted it hidden.

Carefully, he pushed the basement door open and closed it fully behind him. His heart started to race. He didn’t know these stairs well. He hadn’t been down here often, wasn’t supposed to be here unless he had a good reason. 

It was dark. So dark. Where was the light? Could he use the light? What if he was wrong? What if Talia and Peter weren’t gone and were down here? What if something else was down here? What if—

The rope of magic faded into a string, thin between his fingers.

Stiles took a shaky breath and swallowed his fear. His hands shook as he mumbled the incantation to create a small ball of light. 

He forced himself to focus. The book. The spell book. He needed to find it, needed to help, to heal.

The string of magic felt more tangible in his hand. He held it tight and trusted the magic’s pull. It wasn’t just his but his family line’s magic. Crafted and strengthened by generations. All he needed to do was learn to use it.

He descended the stairs, carefully testing each step for noise before stepping down. He was going to help.

When the string of magic led into a wall, he wanted to question it. He wondered if he’d been wrong. 

He lifted his hand, feeling along the wall. There. 

There was a crack. 

He pushed against the wall and it gave just enough. Under where the wall pushed into itself was a safe with a combination lock and his magic led inside. Now he just needed the code.

Was the box Peter’s or Talia’s? Who made the code? Would they pick something to be expected or random numbers? They were hiding it from Stiles and he knew the important dates in their lives so surely they picked something else. Would they have even picked the numbers themselves or let someone else? Would they choose it randomly?

Too many options. Too much to think about. The string of magic faded and the ball of light started to dim. He felt his control slipping away. 

He needed to think less, let intuition lead. Maybe he’d get lucky.

He spun the code, listening to what clicked and feeling what seemed right. Finally, finally , the lock released and the safe opened.

There were many things inside but only one that called to him. It seemed to vibrate with power under his fingers. 

The ball of thigh grew brighter and he picked up the book. He felt his magic swirl and pulse. It was exhilarating and terrifying. His skin was warm where the book touched him. He felt his face flush as if he were standing near a fire. His magic itched under his skin, begging to get out and not to be touched.

The dark leather of the book whined as he opened it. He flipped the pages, naturally stopping on one.

A healing spell. 

As he read, he could hardly believe it’s power. Strong enough to save a person from the edge of death, to repair devastating wounds in minutes and restore strength in seconds. Not a hail mary but a saving grace. And all it cost was a little bit of his blood.

He didn’t know but he needed to. He needed to figure it out. 

“I think that’s enough carnival psychic work for you,” Cora said, pulling Stiles back into their hiding place. She gave him a look that he knew meant they were definitely going talk about what happen later. “On the bright side, that got us five minutes closer to getting out of this hell hole.”

“What are we gonna do now?”

“Twenty questions?”

Just as planned, it only took about 5 minutes into prom for the first group of boys to walk into the locker room. Equally unsurprisingly was that they were passing shooters from one of those crappy 99 proof party buckets and debating how they’d spike the punch. Once guys started to go in and out of the locker room, pretending to use the bathroom, it would be easy enough for Stiles and Scott to sneak in. The problem would be getting Cora in. 

They waited another ten minutes, long enough that the music was blasting and the teachers were far more distracted by attempts to spike the punch bowl, before Stiles stepped out, standing in front of the door. Scott walked out next, standing beside Stiles, and Cora ducked in behind them– since it wouldn't exactly be a good look for her to walk out of the boy's locker room. When they were sure nobody saw, Cora walked out from behind them and they went about the night as if nothing had happened.

“That was too easy,” Scott whispered.

“Ahem.”

“You had to say it,” Cora sighed and the three turned around. “Hi aunt Ahlai…”

Ahlai looked at the three teens, her sharp eyes were the same as Talia’s. “Do I want to know why you’re here,” she asked.

“It’s prom and we’re high schoolers,” Stiles offered. “Need I explain more?”

“You snuck in?”

“Yes,” all three mumbled.

“You have no dates?”

“If we had dates, we wouldn’t have had to sneak in,” Cora mumbled, crossing her arms with red cheeks.

Ahlai hummed, her eyes pausing on Stiles as she looked them over once more. “Your brother has no date either,” she remarked.

“He actually came,” Cora asked, straightening up in surprise. “He said, like, last week he wasn’t going to.”

“Perhaps he heard something that changed his mind…” Ahlai let her eyes scan over the crowd of teens. “I expect none of you will be drinking?”

“Considering we still have to sneak out of here at the end of the night? No.”

“Then I will ignore that you snuck in but I will be watching you. I don’t want any trouble, mischief, or chaos tonight,” She said and walked away.

“Dude, you didn’t tell us your aunt was a chaperone,” Scott hissed. 

“Gee, maybe that’s because I didn’t know!”

“Not just her,” Stiles mumbled as his eyes found each chaperone in the gym. “Louisa is here too.”

“I guarantee that either uncle Abrum or mom is here too,” Cora sighed. “Man, I thought tonight would be fun.”

“Please,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Can either of you make out specific voices in this cluster? And they haven’t even started blasting the music yet. We just need to find our way into the middle and they’ll never find us. Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “let’s get some food before all the good stuff is gone!”

True to his word, when the DJ started the dance music, not a word could be made out even right next to each other. They managed to get into the main cluster of people. It didn’t take long for everything else to slip their minds. They were too busy dancing terribly and laughing at each other to care about anything else.

After a while, they found another person joining their little group.

“Erica? How the hell did you get it,” Stiles asked in a near yell. Just like he’d thought, even werewolf hearing couldn’t overcome a hundred teenagers screaming along to the music.

“I told one of the band juniors I’d make out with him if he brought me as his date,” she yelled back.

“Are you going to,” Cora asked, her tone seeming more bitter than it probably should have been.

“Fuck no! I took pictures with him for his mom and here, he should be grateful,” Erica laughed.

“Poor band guy,” Scott said, shaking his head.

“Lydia’s here too,” Erica told them. “She snagged the wrestling team captain which, like, I don’t blame her because Mairi is unfairly attractive. She’s over there in the silvery-blue dress.”

“The tall blonde one’s her date,” Cora asked and Erica confirmed. “She definitely has a type.”

“Ya, I just don’t get it,” Stiles shrugged. “Like, he’s okay but not Lydia’s level.”

Cora and Erica shared a look. 

“That’s because your taste and hers are different. She goes for blonde, aggressive, and popular. You like them with dark hair, barely hidden aggression, and awkward,” Cora teased.

“And he really likes Hales,” Erica muttered. She looked around the room and bumped Cora. “Speaking of Stiles’s Hale crush,” she said, pointing at Derek who was seemingly trying to become one with the wall.

“Why’d he even show if he’s gonna be a buzzkill?”

“Please, we all know why.”

Stiles spotted Derek too. He couldn’t exactly pin what it was but Derek didn’t look like himself. 

He kept looking between the doors and the people dancing. He shifted on his feet, occasionally messing with his hair when nothing was out of place. Derek looked at his shoes and seemed to make a decision, walking out of the gym into the hall. 

Stiles looked at his friends, finding both Scott and Cora sufficiently distracted, and followed.

He found Derek leaned against the wall and joined him. 

“Bummed you’re not up for prom king? It truly is a crime you’re not. The selections committee must be blind,” Stiles joked and Derek looked at him. He went from sad to confused to happy to trying to hide his emotions.

“Ya know, we could always go back in there and rig the votes for prom queen so I win and confuse everyone. Then you can dump pigs’ blood on me and I'll light the gym on fire with my telekinetic powers,” Stiles joked and Derek couldn't help but smile.

“You mean pyrokinetic powers,” Derek asked, looking at Stiles and the way he looked at him… 

He looked at Stiles like he hung the stars.

Derek frowned, looking Stiles over again. “How did you get into prom? You're a sophomore.”

“Actually, I got me, Scott, and Cora in. I am a man of many secrets…” Stiles smirked, “but most of them have to do with how easy it is to trick coach Finstock. The locker rooms weren’t locked– I guarantee at least one pregnancy will result from it.”

“I should have guessed,” Derek shook his head. “With mischief comes chaos and trouble.”

“Life would be boring without us,” Stiles said with a smirk. 

They settled into a comfortable silence, or as silent as it could be with music blasting on the other side of the wall.

Stiles looked at Derek and caught his usual nervous tells. “Why are you out here,” he asked, going for the safest question. 

Derek shrugged. “I’m not a party person…” he sighed, mumbling, “I don’t even know why I came.”

“Because it’s loud?”

“Because of everything… It’s loud and crowded and all the perfumes and colognes mixing—”

“Oh, I smelled that and it’s giving me a headache,” Stiles shook his head, “I can’t imagine how you feel.” 

“You have a headache,” Derek asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

“The start of one but it’s whatever. There’s some tylenol in my locker if you need some. It’s extra strength so you’d only need five instead of ten,” Stiles joked. “It’s kind fucked up that meds wear off for you guys so fast. I mean, sure you get hurt and heal super fast but you still feel the pain of the injury and nothing really helps.”

“Ya,” Derek mumbled and they fell quiet again.

This time, a question was eating at Stiles and he had to ask. “Hey Der, I want to ask something and you don’t have to answer if it's too personal or anything. Like, just tell me to fuck off and I will. I just—”

“Ask the question, Stiles.”

“Is the reason you’re so upset because of your mate?”

Derek took a breath. Of course it was. And of course Stiles could tell. He was so stupid trying to hide it but how could he just say something like that. How was he supposed to explain that the reason he’s upset is because he was too much of a coward to ask Stiles to go to prom with him and he thought that he’d be okay with going to prom and trying to casually pop in to talk to Stiles but instead he got jealous and nervous  seeing Stiles with Cora and Scott and it felt like he’d just be a nuisance than anything if he tried to cut in. Not to mention that Cora had been purposely messing with him about it and would intentionally try to make him more jealous even though he knew Cora and Stiles saw each other as siblings.

“Ya, kinda,” Derek finally mumbled. 

“If they stood you up, I’d be more than happy to get revenge for you,” Stiles offered. “You’re one of my best friends, so I’d do it. Systematically dismantling their entire life one piece at a time: their job, friends, sports, grades, their family, and their pack.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Ya?”

“I… I couldn’t ask,” Derek admitted, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Don’t tell me their here with someone else,” Stiles said  and Derek’s silence confirmed it. “That witch! Who is it? I’ll go in there and—”

“I never told them,” Derek blurted out and Stiles stopped, staring at Derek blankly.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t told them they’re my mate,” he mumbled, face burning red. “It’s too weird…”

Stiles had to sit with the thought. Derek hadn’t told them? Why the hell not? From everything he knew, a mate bond was the kind of love people made movies about. Sure, it might not be forever but it was deep and sincere and real and overwhelming. Who wouldn’t want that? For someone to love you so wholly like that… He could only hope to find that.

“Why don’t you tell them,” Stiles asked. “I mean, it’s that hard when you can feel the bond so strongly?”

“Sometimes it feels impossible,” Derek said, closing his eyes. This was stupid. He can’t talk about this with Stiles, he’ll slip up and say something he shouldn’t. “But, it’s better this way. I’m starting college next fall. If I can’t be here, I don’t expect…”

“They’re not a ‘wolf, are they?”

Derek frowned, looking at Stiles. “Why?”

“Because another ‘wolf would feel it too,” Stiles said, “and they’re in a lower grade than you but they’re at prom?”

Derek swallowed the lump in his throat. Fuck, he said too much. He knew he was gonna blow it! Fuck, he never should have come. He shouldn’t talk to Stiles about this, it was just hurting both of them.

“A sophomore or a freshman at prom,” Stiles mumbled to himself. “I would totally get it being weird if they’re a freshman,” he scoffed.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Derek groaned. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was so touchy,” Stiles said. After a while, Stiles tried to fill the space again. “I think I’m totally failing at palm reading,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because, the last few times I’ve tried, I end up barfing,” Stiles said and they both snickered.

“That wouldn’t be great but it might help the gimmick if you decide to run off with the circus,” Derek joked.

“The circus,” Stiles asked, baffled. “Who do you think—”

Screams echoed through the hall and both boys froze. People started running out of the gym in different directions. Some were trying to hide and others wanted to escape. It was chaos. People ran into each other, shoving and knocking others down. 

Derek and Stiles were nearly trampled sitting on the floor. Derek Grabbed Stiles, pulling his close and curling into the wall to be as small as possible.

Ahlai roared and Derek’s head snapped up. He couldn’t hear. His heart and Stiles’s were both beating so loud. People were yelling. He knew what it was. It could only be one thing. Derek pulled both of them to stand up. He needed to get Stiles out. 

“We need to leave,” Derek said, starting to panic. 

Oh, fuck. He was in trouble. They were in danger. His mate was in danger. They had to run. Now.

“What about Scott and Cora?”

“They can get themselves out. We need to go.”

Derek pulled them into the mess of people. He started towards one of the exits but he lost Stiles. He lost him in the crowd. 

Shit .Shit. Shit.

Derek tried to push against the flow but he kept getting pushed farther away. And he knew. He knew Stiles would run to help. He needed to find Stiles.

**********************

Stiles hurried through the locker room and out the door for the gym. He rushed up the stairs to the second-story balcony and prayed this wasn’t where the Kanima caught him. He’d get thrown over the railing and die for sure. He came to the door separating the gym and pool balconies and pulled at the door. It didn’t budge. He needed to break the glass again. Choices had to be made. 

He patted down his pockets again but all he had was keys. He had keys! He pulled them out of his pocket and slotted each of them between his already bloody fingers. Oh, this was going to hurt. He wound back and punched the glass as hard as he could. He felt the keys dig into his hand as hard as they hit the glass and pain shot up his arm, the fresh cuts dripping with his pulse. He’d managed to crack the glass. What he wouldn’t give to have his bat with him. 

He took a deep breath, ready to try again when a silhouette came running up the stairs on the other side of the door. Derek. He threw the door open and pulled Stiles in. He locked it behind them.

“I told you to leave,” Derek growled, gripping Stiles’s arm tightly.

“Told me to— Where the fuck were you,” Stiles yelled. Derek looked like fresh hell. His once nice suit was ripped and bloody.

“I’ve been here! Paralyzed! Why are you still here,” Derek asked, having the sense to try to pull Stiles away from the door.

“It was hunting people as they ran out,” Stiles told him, becoming aware of how his voice echoed in the room. “We need to get out of here. Need to get Lydia. She can get through to Jackson.” Stiles noticed how Derek was leaning on the railing and wrapped an arm around him, taking some of his weight to help him down the stairs while he metabolized what was left of the Kanima venom. Stiles set Derek down on a bench out of sight of the doors. 

“You’re bleeding,” Derek mumbled, catching Stiles’s hand and watching the blood drip to the floor. He pulled Stiles closer, he needed him closer. He needed to know he was okay. 

“Ya, no shit Sherlock,” Stiles scoffed, letting Derek look over the cuts on his arm and hand. “Had to get into the science room again. Self-igniting molotovs don't just apear. Can you believe they already replaced the window? It hurt like a bitch…” 

“Did you burn yourself again,” Derek asked, nervously looking Stiles over again for anything he might have missed.

“Just my fingers… I was shaking and spilled some acid. It’s fine, doesn’t hurt.”

Stiles watched Derek’s eyebrows scrunch in the shut-up-I’m-focusing way. He sucked in a breath as black pain ran up Derek’s arm. 

Maybe the adrenaline was hiding most of the pain or maybe it was the way his muscles were suddenly able to relax but the relief he felt was fucking great. Stiles groaned, slumping against the closest wall.

It was like the fog was clearing, his mind no longer clouded by pain. Stiles looked around the pool room. “Where’s Scott and Cora,” he asked, pushing off the wall to look around more. Had he missed him?

Derek cleared his throat, looking a bit red. “I couldn’t find them.”

“You what,” Stiles asked, looking at Derek like he was the stupidest person alive. “You were running around alone when there’s a murderous creature on the loose? God, you’re, like, a jock in a horror movie!” He rolled his eyes, looking around the pool room so they wouldn’t be ambushed.

Derek cracked a smirk. “I’m the hot brother, so am I at least the hot jock?”

“No,” Stiles glared at him. “You’re the dumbass jock. Now shut up before we get killed,” he grumbled, turning around to look back at Derek.

It happened in a split second. Derek jumped up, shoving Stiles toward the pool. With the same move, the Kanima was able to cut him.

“Derek, your neck…” 

Derek looked at him and Stiles had to take on his weight again. He tried to run but there was no point. They couldn’t outrun it. They couldn’t beat it alone. 

Stiles paused, listening to Derek grumbling at him to keep moving as it stalked them. It was like the kanima was toying with them. Letting them think they had time when there was nothing left. He found his phone. Stiles searched for Talia’s number, keeping them moving. But he dropped the phone. He leaned down to get it and Derek’s weight shifted.

“Stiles! Stiles,” Derek yelled, falling into the cold pool as the paralysis set in. 

Stiles looked at the phone. He could call Talia. But Derek was sinking. Stiles shook his head and dove into the water after Derek. He kicked and clawed through the water to get to Derek. He grabbed him and started back to the surface. 

Derek gulped greedy breaths of air as Stiles worked to keep them both afloat. “Will you get me out of here before I drown,” Derek asked.

“You’re worried about drowning,” Stiles sputtered, trying to keep the water out of his face and talk. “Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth?”

“Did you notice that I’m paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water,” Derek asked, spitting out water.

Stiles groaned, looking around. “Okay,” he huffed, trying to find the Kanima. “I don’t see it,” he said, trying to suck in more air while he could. He started to swim to the side.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Stop,” Derek yelled at him, spotting the Kanima.

They both watched as the Kanima stalked along the edge of the water, hissing as it watched them too. 

“What’s it waiting for,” Stiles mumbled.

“Us…”

The kanima stalked closer to the water’s edge. Stiles tried to move away, waiting for it to break out some alligator-like swimming abilities. It stepped toward the water but pulled its foot back the second it met the water.

“It’s scared of water” Stiles sputtered like it was their saving grace. He’d bee so freaked that he forgot. He watched as the Kanima circled the pool. They were safe in the water as long as he kept their heads above water.

Stiles was really hoping Scott would find them before his legs gave out and there wasn’t long left. 

At some point, their heads started to sink under the water between breaths of air.

“Okay. Okay. Okay, I don’t think I can do this much longer.” 

Stiles looked at the phone at the pool's edge and Derek saw it too.

“No, no, no! Don’t even think about it,” he grumbled, desperation seeping into his words.

“Could you just trust me this once,” Stiles asked in a mixture of irritation and exhaustion.

Derek was quiet. “I do trust you, Stiles. but I don’t want to die.”

“I’m going to text your mom and come right back. You won’t drown,” Stiles promised and Derek seemed to resign himself to it. “Good. Then on the count of three,” Stiles huffed. “One… Two… Three.”

Derek caught a breath before Stiles started for the edge of the pool. He tried to hurry. He was fast to find Talia this time and write a text that, if he typed it right, read “hs pool sos” and hit send. He dropped the phone and swam after Derek.

It was harder to pull him up this time. Stiles was tired and his body was begging for a break. 

Derek felt his lungs starting to ache as Stiles struggled to pull them to the surface. 

He looked at Derek, fear playing on both their faces. Derek shook his head, seeing how Stiles struggled. 

No. They’d both die if Stiles kept trying. Derek let out the breath he’d been holding. The bubbles hit Stiles in the face, startling him enough to let go. Derek sunk to the bottom.

He tried to get the water out of his mouth but he couldn’t. He tried to hold out, trying not to breathe in the water, but his chest burned . He’d lost the little air he had left. He tried not to but he couldn’t stop it.

Stiles opened his mouth to yell at Derek, forgetting he was underwater until he had a mouth full of water. Stiles scowled and swam to the surface. He breathed in the air. He was so tired. He was in pain. Even just trying to keep himself above water, he was slipping under. 

His body gasped for air. His lungs burned but the water burned worse. The chlorine made his throat and lungs red and angry. He coughed, trying to get it out and losing what little air he had left. His eyes brimmed with tears but the water swept them away unnoticed. 

It hurt. He felt like he was dying. 

No, he was dying. 

He was drowning. 

Derek's chest heaved as tears were washed away. He was going to die here. He was… He was…

Stiles looked down, seeing Derek at the bottom. “Idiot,” Stiles huffed, taking another breath of air before diving down again. 

He grabbed Derek but he didn’t open his eyes. Stiles lifted him, shaking Derek to try and get him to open his eyes. Stiles shook, darting back to the surface to take in another breath and going down to Derek again. 

Fuck, this is not how he had anticipated this happening. 

His brain ran through the CPR training his dad had made him sit through. He tried to tilt Derek's head and pinched his nose shut. 

Here went nothing. 

Stiles pressed his lips to Derek’s blowing air into Derek’s mouth. He felt Derek’s chest expand and that was a weird fucking experience but air low on oxygen was better than no air. So Stiles went back to the surface, caught a breath, and dove down again, pushing on Derek’s chest so he breathed out and repeated the steps. 

He did it again and again, praying Derek wasn’t breathing in too much water.

Stiles surfaced and took in a shaky breath. He felt like he was going to drown himself, but he kept trying. He wanted to help even as his muscles were screaming at him. He’d held Derek up in the water for so long and now he was wearing himself to nothing.

“Help,” Stiles screamed, water splashing in his mouth and choking him. He coughed up the water. “Help,” he yelled again, his voice sounding rough and worn.

The door slammed open and Scott came running in. “Stiles,” Scott yelled. 

“Kanima,” Stiles huffed. “Get in the water.”

Scott rushed down the stairs, dodging the Kanima as it swiped at him. He dove into the water to avoid fighting it. He didn’t surface immediately and Stiles hoped he found Derek. 

Scott broke the surface, holding Derek up and Stiles let out a shaky sigh of relief. Scott looked freaked out and Stiles's moment of relief was gone. “He’s not breathing and… I can barely hear his heartbeat.”

“What do we do,” Stiles asked. Fuck! He could feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes and he blinked them away.

Scott shook his head. “I… I don’t know. We can’t get out of the water…” Scott looked around. “Doesn’t this pool have a shallow end?”

“Ya, you’re in it,” Stiles huffed. “It just gets deeper.”

Scott and Stiles were left to bob uselessly, waiting for help. Luckily, it didn’t take much longer. 

Talia and Peter kicked the backdoors to the pool open. “Cover your ears,” Talia yelled. 

Scott and Stiles let themselves sink underwater, pulling Derek with them. The sound of Lydia screaming Jackson’s name made their ears ring even in the water. When the noise subsided they surfaced. They looked around and saw Lydia crouched next to Jackson’s naked body near the pool. 

Scott pulled Derek to the edge of the pool. Talia was there to help pull him out. 

“He’s not breathing,” Talia said, starting CPR.

“I tried,” Stiles huffed, holding onto the edge of the pool. Scott had to pull him out of the water. Stiles lay uselessly on the cold floor. “I tried. I’m so tired…”

He heard coughing and gasping breaths. 

“Derek, baby,” Talia whispered and Derek groaned as she held him.

Stiles sighed. Derek was alive. “Hey Derek,” Stiles mumbled and he heard him hum, “the next time I put my lips on yours, you better be awake.” With that, Stiles lets himself slip into sweet unconscious bliss.

**********************

Stiles woke up in Cora’s bed. She and Scott were squeezed into the full-sized bed with him. Stiles groaned and he felt Cora stir.

“Good morning idiot,” she mumbled.

Derek looked up from his book. Stiles was awake. He wanted to run into the room and hug him, hold him close. He wanted to make sure Stiles was safe, wanted to feel it for himself. Derek quietly stepped into the hall, listening to Stiles– his breathing, his heartbeat, his sharp comments to Cora. 

Stiles sighed. “Didn’t your brother almost die? Why aren’t you with him,” Stiles asked.

Derek smiled. Stiles was thinking about him. 

Malia’s door creaked open down the hall and Derek tried to seem disinterested, like he was\sn’t just eavesdropping on Stiles like a stalker. 

It didn’t work. 

Malia rolled her eyes at Derek and went downstairs. 

“Der’s fine. He was back to his annoying, Stiles-obsessed self before we even got home,” Cora told him. “Mom’s probably going to baby him like no other– you too.”

“She just called your dad,” Scott said. “Might want to appreciate your last few minutes of breathing room.”

“You call this breathing room,” Stiles asked, looking between the two.

“Ya, ya, drama queen,” Cora teased, moving to sit by Stiles’s legs anyway. “So, loverboy, what’s this I hear about you and Derek’s lips?”

Stiles sat up, his face burning red. “I was trying to save him but.. It’s my fault he almost died,” he whispered.

Derek’s nerves turned to ice. Stiles blamed himself? No, it was his fault. Derek should have been paying attention. He should have heard the kanima coming. He should have gotten them out, there was a door right there but they waited. Derek should have been paying attention. 

Scott sat up, careful to place a hand on Stiles’s arm. “It wasn’t your fault. The Kanima caught him,” he said.

Them not knowing only gutted him more. Stiles shook his head, “ya, because he was saving my dumbass. Then I let him fall into the pool and I couldn't keep him above water.”

“If he didn’t let go, we both would have died,” Derek whispered to himself. “He couldn’t… I made him let go.”

“You told my mom,” Cora said. She could hear Derek, heard what he was saying. She swallowed back her own feelings. Stiles needed her. “You both would have died if you hadn’t. Derek… he said he wanted you to let go of him.”

“What,” Stiles asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“He thought you were going to drown yourself to help him,” Cora said, glancing at the hallway where she could hear Derek mumbling to himself. 

“Stiles… What happened,” Scott asked. “You could hardly move. I had to pull you out of the water.”

Stiles groaned. “He was going to die so I tried doing rescue breaths,” he said, rubbing his burning face. “I about passed out doing that.”

“Great. Glad to know there’s more than one self-sacrificing idiot in the pack,” Cora sighed. “Apparently, six people got dosed with venom last night. We had just made it outside when you texted and mom freaked. She didn’t say anything, just grabbed Lydia and started running…”

“They got through to Jackson,” Stiles asked and Cora nodded. “So, is Jackson a werewolf now?”

Cora paused. “Uhhh, I don’t really know. Technically? I’m not clear on that one but I’m pretty sure Lydia busted everyone’s eardrums to save him.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Great, now Jackson’s in the pack too. Just what we needed, someone else who sucks at communication and can’t control their anger.”

“We do have a few of those,” Cora mumbled. It seemed like she was going to say more but she stopped, looking towards the hall.

“Please, I need to apologize,” Derek said, trying to get Cora to let him in. 

She looked at Scott and he shrugged. The two wolves left the room, leaving Stiles alone without another word. 

But he wasn’t alone for long.

Derek stood in the doorway, looking Stiles over. He wanted to be sure he was okay, needed to see it with his own eyes. He tried to find something to say but Stiles beat him to it.

“You’re all healed up,” he asked and Derek nodded. “Great because I feel like my limbs are going to fall off,” Stiles told him.

“Shouldn’t you be in better shape from Lacrosse?”

Stiles scoffed, “oh ya. It’s very difficult work, riding the bench and all. Plus, I had to hold up both of us in the water! I don’t exactly do that on the regular.” He took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. Would an ‘I’m sorry’ cut it when he almost drowned someone?

“It’s not your fault,” Derek said before Stiles could voice his thoughts. Stupid fucking werewolf senses. Stiles probably reeked of guilt to Derek. He probably heard him talking to Cora. “You saved me the embarrassment of being killed by Jackson,” Derek said, trying to lighten the mood.

Stiles snorted. “Guess that makes me your hero,” he joked. “The Clark Kent to your Lois Lane. The Peter Parker to your MJ… or Gwen Stacy.” Derek ducked his head to hide a smile. 

“Ya, I guess so…” 

“That was one Hell of a prom night, huh,” Stiles joked and Derek nodded. 

“Don’t know that anything will ever top it,” Derek mumbled and Stiles laughed.

“Top it for what? The most terrifying night of our lives?”

“You could say that.” Derek took a breath. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For making you miss time with Cora and Scott. For almost getting us trampled when people started running. For not getting us out sooner. For almost drowning you. For making you feel like it’s your fault,” Derek said, shaking his head. “If I had paid more attention…”

“We could have run out the door? We could have gone back into the gym to help or we could never gone in the first place,” Stiles finished Derek’s thought. “I was thinking about it the entire time you were laying at the bottom of the pool. We also could have died but we didn’t.”

Stiles waited for Derek to say something but he didn’t. He just stood there with sad puppy dog eyes.

“And, hey, now you’ll get the chance to tell your mate how you feel. Might even get to take them to the next prom,” Stiles teased.

Derek wanted to tell Stiles. “I don’t think I’ll ever go to prom again,” he mumbled. He wanted to tell him but he didn’t.