Chapter Text
Chapter One
Forever … (is a long time)
Derek
He scowls at the succulent on the top of his bar. The damn thing just showed up while he was gone for a run in the Beacon Hills Preserve. If it wasn’t for the faint cinnamon-sugar and lemon zest scents of Stiles and Erica lingering in his loft he’d worry it was a threat of some kind.
Although, with Stiles, it still could be one.
Derek isn’t sure how, but he’s certain the twink could figure out a way to make an aloe vera plant a warning. Even one in a terracotta jar with pink and red hearts painted on it. Or, hell, maybe the plant itself is a cautionary tale, as if Stiles is saying, “Do what I say or prepare for plants everywhere!”
Derek wouldn’t put it past him.
The kid wields domesticity like a shield, no matter how much he tries to make out like Scott was the only one with a soft spot. Stiles only protests when it’s somebody he doesn’t trust and that’s something that’s entirely hard-won. But once he trusts a person, there’s little he won’t do to help them. Even if it does call for breaking and entering to leave a bewildering tiny plant somewhere unexpected.
It’s one of the various reasons why Derek likes Stiles.
The loft door slides open and Derek whirls around, claws and fangs popped, eyes burning with the effort of a partial Alpha shift. Four teenagers stop in their tracks, gazes locked on his, and their eyes all flashing yellow. Derek sniffs the air, smells only his Pack, and relaxes. The teens do the same, slightly.
“Sorry.” Derek coughs. “I, uh, I didn’t—”
Isaac clutches his right hand against his chest, rubbing the skin over his wrist in a soothing way. “D-Derek? I’m sorry! For whatever. The thing, I mean! What did we do wrong?”
“N-no!” Derek shakes his head, fighting against the urge to simply Alpha roar the others into submission. That isn’t how his mother ran the Hale Pack before him and it’s not how he wants to do things, either. He’s… working on being more like her. “Nothing. You did nothing wrong. I was caught up in my thoughts and didn’t hear you coming up.”
Jackson’s gaze narrows, sliding from Isaac to Derek with a haughty vehemence. “What the hell could have distracted you so much that you didn’t hear us coming up? I mean, you’re the one who’s always harping on about us being aware and shit. So, what the fuck, Derek?”
“I—” Derek straightens his back and clenches his jaw. “Yeah, that’s what it was. A training test. Did any of you sense that I was in here?”
Jackson scoffs. “Un-fucking-believable.”
The elevator dings, announcing its landing on their floor, and Stiles’ voice carries down the hall the moment the doors slide open. “Hey, assholes! Thanks for leaving the humans behind in the cars. Not all of us are superpowered freaks, you know, and I absolutely refuse to bring up the rest of the groceries.”
Erica snorts. “Like he isn’t already trying to carry them all.”
The sharp click of Lydia’s high heels accompanies the scuffle of Stiles’ Converse and rustle of various plastic bags. “Stiles, I’m a banshee and you’re magical. It’s highly arguable that we aren’t even human.”
“Lydia, my strawberry-blonde goddess, now is not the time.” Stiles grunts and sidles into the loft. “Out of my way, Puppy Pack, or you won’t get any treats. Lassie and his friends want to be good doggos, don’t they, Jackson? Who’s a good boy?”
“Stilinski—”
Lydia snaps her fingers. “Jackson, if you respond to that low-hanging taunt, I will not be coming over after the Pack Night this weekend. Do you understand?”
“Of course.” Jackson glares at the sarcastic brunet boy. “Get better material, Stilinski.”
“But you make it so easy, Jackson! And how would we maintain this epic slow burn bromance if I didn’t bait you? Just you wait, we’re gonna end up besties in no time!”
Jackson gives a long-suffering sigh. “I’d honestly rather die again than have that happen.”
Stiles shrugs, setting various bags on the counter. “That could be accomplished, too. I never said us being besties wouldn’t end up like Jennifer’s Body, after all. You’d be Jennifer in this set-up, though, in case that wasn’t clear. I’d be Needy, the Final Girl who survives and actually gets revenge for her best friend.”
Boyd outright laughs. “Stiles, you’re a riot.”
“Yeah, the kind that needs to be suppressed.” Isaac rolls his eyes. “And he’s definitely needy.”
“You’re next on my list, Isaac.” Stiles brandishes a cucumber and pokes it in the blond boy’s direction. “But in your case, it’ll be due to our friendship based on healthy eating and laughing about slightly suggestive scientific versions of plant names.”
Isaac considers this for a moment. “Fair enough. You do make an excellent salad, too.”
“Was that a compliment?” Stiles fake swoons. “Why, Isaac, I declare! I knew you were sweet on me, but that’s just more than I expected.”
The curly-haired blond boy snorts. “Idiot.”
“Back to the topic of plants, that’s a cute one, Derek.” Erica smiles innocently, gaze on the potted succulent, and feigns ignorance. “Where’d you get it?”
Derek rolls his eyes in mock frustration and motions to it. “Stiles can explain that.”
“Huh?” The brunet boy does a double-take and then flushes when his gaze locks on the succulent before lifting to study Derek’s face. His scent sharpens, a mix of slightly metallic nervousness and the honey-sweet lust that is almost always present when he’s in Derek’s presence. The Alpha does his best to keep from inhaling the scent too deeply, or let his nostrils flare too much. He’d never hear the end of it if his Betas figured out just how much Stiles’ undeniable attraction impacts him. “Why do you think I know anything about your new little green friend?”
“Because your scent is the only one on that pot, Stiles. Now, explain.”
“Shit. You werewolves and your stupid super senses are so creepy, you know that? But isn’t it obvious?” Stiles waves his hand at the plant, staring directly at the Alpha. When Derek only raises an eyebrow the twink just groans. “Oh my god, you’re impossible. It’s a gift!”
Isaac grins. “Oh, that explains it.”
Lydia’s keen eyes latch onto the blonde boy. “Explains what?”
“Nothing important.” Derek crosses his arms.
Erica opens a bag of chips with a claw. “Our Alpha went all, ‘Grr, I’m gonna slash your throats’ when we came in.”
“Derek!” Stiles throws an apple at him—the werewolf catches it with ease. He considers the fruit a moment before taking a bite from it, maintaining eye contact with Stiles the enter time. It’s a show of intimidation. That’s all. He definitely doesn’t do it to elicit the shuddering gasp that breaks past Stiles’ lips.
“It was a training exercise.” Derek finishes chewing his bite. And if his swallow is audible to human ears, well, it was a big bite. “Anyway, ‘a gift.’ You, Stiles, bought me a gift.”
“That’s not a question, you know? But, yes!” Stiles splays a hand against his chest and leans forward. His scent shifts to the full-on amber warmth Derek has discovered is indicative the twink is about to spout off in an impossible to shut-off rant that’ll leave Stiles floating on a high for weeks on end. “I’d break it down into interpretive dance if I thought I could do that without fracturing a leg or something. Unfortunately, I don’t have werewolf gracefulness and I can’t communicate solely with my vanishing eyebrows like some people. So, let’s put it into caveman. Me, Stiles. You, Derek. Stiles buy Derek gift. Me leave gift. Derek find. Surprise! Sourwolf understand?”
Erica barks out a laugh. “God, I love you, Batman.”
“Ditto, Catwoman.”
“Why did you get it?”
It’s a simple question. A reasonable one, even. And it’s the one thing Derek’s been wondering since he saw the splash of green on the black marble countertop.
“Huh? Oh, why’d I buy it? Well, okay, see, I hadn’t had the chance to get you a housewarming gift yet and you guys have been living here for over a month. Given your track record with going all Spartan on your decorating of previous living spaces—which I refuse to acknowledge the train depot as an actual livable space for four werewolves—I figured you could use a plant.”
Derek listens to his heartbeat but it doesn’t stutter or change once. That means Stiles is telling the truth. Or at least a version of it. The words he said hold enough truth that Stiles believes them to be total honesty, even if his scent has soured a tiny bit with the metallic tang of nervousness.
Jackson snorts. “Right, of course that’s why. And the heart motif on the pot is simply your way of saying you love the new place?”
“It’s definitely a step up from the other two places they’ve lurked, yes. Plus, it’s Valentine’s Day this weekend. I can’t exactly help that everything is decorated in hearts and all that sappy romantic shit.”
And that’s what is prickling the back of Derek’s mind.
Because gifts aren’t a thing for him. Not anymore, haven’t been for a good few years. It’s been forever since he received one and that’s… the last gift was a lifetime ago. He and Laura had only started to manage giving each other cheap cards for their birthdays in the months before she returned to Beacon Hills, never mind celebrating any kind of holiday with presents.
As for romance, for Valentine’s Day gifts? That kind of “sappy romantic shit” as Stiles put it, all of that stuff has been off the table explicitly since Paige. And then everything that happened with Kate… Yeah, no, a hookup every few months has been the extent of Derek’s romantic escapades for the past three years.
But then Stiles stumbled into Derek’s life with the utter disaster known as Scott McCall. That had thankfully, yet very painfully, worked itself out in a way. Although Derek hates that Stiles lost his best friend due to the idiot being a fucking traitor and manipulator who endangered all of their lives, the events brought the teen into the Hale Pack.
The unfortunate side effect of that—from the very first moment he smelled Stiles in the woods—was that Derek started having urges again. More especially since he gained the Alpha spark. It’s not like he’s dead or has to take a pill to get it up. Every nineteen-year-old with a sex drive has the same damn needs. Although, most people his age probably don’t want to pin a smart-mouthed sixteen-year-old twink against the nearest flat surface, kiss him until he can’t remember his own name, make him absolutely whine with need, and then outright beg to be fucked into next year. They more especially don’t feel that way about somebody who’s supposed to be a friend and got them a housewarming gift.
Derek isn’t sure whether to be mad at himself for partly wanting it to be more, or irritated that Stiles is thoughtful enough to give him a present to begin with.
“Uh, well, thank you.” Derek coughs.
Stiles gasps. “Did you just thank me? Who the hell are you and what did you do with our Alpha?”
Our Alpha.
Jesus fucking Christ, it’s almost like Stiles knows exactly what to say to get to him, to make the wolf inside him eager and ready for, well, something.
Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m me, you idiot. This just, it’s—”
Stiles huffs. “If the Valentine’s pot offends your sensibilities that much I guess I could get a replacement pot from JoAnn’s.”
Lydia clears her throat. “Stiles, speaking of Valentine’s Day, did you manage to get the right grapes I asked for? If we’re going to do the Pack night as planned it has to be the green ones to inject them with the wolfsbane alcohol mix before freezing them. Black and red grapes simply don’t affect werewolves.”
Stiles scoffs. “Of course we got the rig—grapes. Grapes! Grape vine. Grand berry! Glen roses. Oh my god! Where’s my phone? I need my phone. Like, I need it right this moment or I will die.”
Jackson’s face scrunches in confusion. “What the fuck, Stilinski?”
Isaac nods, sharing a look with Jackson. “Lydia, I think you actually managed to break him this time.”
Stiles shakes his head, patting his pockets over. “No! She made it click. Something Gerard said when… when he had us.”
Erica gasps. “Holy shit! I remember that, too, now. I thought it was just like referring to a whisper network type thing.”
“So did I. Like the old song by Gladys Knight and the Pips.” Boyd holds his own phone out to Stiles. “Here, use mine.”
“Thanks!” Stiles snatches it, not even pausing on the passcode—Erica’s name in numbers—and hurriedly opens Safari.
“What exactly did I cause you to remember?” Lydia grimaces. “And please only answer that if it doesn’t trigger the three of you too much. I know what it’s like to relive a traumatic event unwittingly.”
Erica turns to the banshee and gives her a thankful smile. “No, I, t-this is okay. It’s something Gerard said to one of the other Hunters.”
Boyd nods. “Some kind of backup plan to a backup plan. He instructed them to ready grapevine, grand berry, and glen rose. I thought he meant, ‘ready the grapevine’ and figured grand berry and glen rose were like some kind of plants to torture us with.”
Derek crosses his arms again, considering what his Packmates have revealed. “It wasn’t, though. Those aren’t ‘things,’ are they?”
Stiles shakes his head. “Not at all.”
Isaac leans against the counter, munching on a carrot stick. “So, if they weren’t part of the plan to torture you guys, and aren’t ‘things,’ what are they?”
“Well, as much as it kills me to admit it, Gerard either knows enough about werewolves or had enough intelligence to figure something could go wrong with his plans. Super villains always do have some kind of backup plan. The psychotic ones, at least.” Stiles snorts, looking up at Derek with a teasing smile. “Peter’s included in that category, by the way.”
Lydia nods. “Oh, without a doubt. Any clues on where he is, by the way? Supposing Peter’s still alive, that is? Or what happened to the Alpha Pack that threatened us?”
Stiles stiffens minutely, something Derek notices, but he can’t be sure if it’s the mention of Peter, or if he’s found something and is making some kind of connection none of the rest of them could follow between what he’s searching for and what Gerard said.
Derek shakes his head. “No, I don’t know where he is. But he’s definitely still alive. I’d have felt it if he died. Peter’s a member of the Hale Pack by birth and bloodright, no matter what his actions are. Trust me, I’ll make sure he’s held accountable for what he did to you all, but I can’t just exile him.”
Stiles nods. “We’ve seen what he did when he was an insane Alpha, so I’m not too excited about the idea of seeing how monstrous Peter would become if he turned Omega. Being without a Pack makes them incredibly dangerous, especially born werewolves like the Hales. They’re the werewolves the most terrifying stories are written about.”
Derek stares at him. “How do you know all that?”
“Peter gave me my grimoire and his laptop with a totally digital bestiary before he left.”
“He did what?” Lydia’s eyes sparkle with curiosity. “So, wait, do you know where he is, then, Stiles? And does this mean he isn’t insane anymore?”
“He left to do some research for me, but since he hasn’t checked-in, that means he obviously hasn’t learned anything yet.” Derek grimaces, wishing he hadn’t given that detail away because what Peter’s researching may not even be real or possible. The Alpha also respects that when Lydia is curious and isn’t given believable answers, she’s an almost dangerous thing to encounter. Maybe it’s part of her banshee nature. “As for his sanity? Well, all sentient beings can be treated for mental health issues, both supernatural and human.”
Lydia sighs as if bored. “This is true. Even I had the whole fugue state when my powers emerged and thought I was going insane. I get why some folks consider psychology to be magic and dangerous in that respect.”
“Therapy does wonders, yes.” Stiles points at himself. “Just look at me! I’m well-adjusted and all.”
Erica cackles. “Stiles, we question your sanity on an hourly basis.”
“Rude!”
Erica smiles sweetly. “No, just honest.”
“As for your earlier points, Lydia, not hearing from Peter is a good thing since he only causes trouble if it benefits him. Let’s be glad he isn’t making problems for us. And the Alpha Pack made themselves scarce. Probably heard about our kanima problem and decided to move on.” Derek frowns, minding cycling back to the most important threat to the Hale Pack. “Now, about Gerard. He had a backup plan. You’ve figured it out.”
Stiles nods. “I did, actually. At least I think I did.”
Derek shakes his head, trying to remember that this is Stiles he’s talking with, who has proven himself correct many times over. If he thinks he’s pieced things together, he has. Derek simply needs Stiles to relay that information in a way the rest of them can understand. “Gather your thoughts and tell us. In chronological order.”
Stiles snorts, tossing Derek a grin that makes the Alpha’s blood pump faster through his veins. “Right. Okay, so, in a linear order. Gerard knew he’d need a hideaway. He put those wheels into motion before he forced you to give him the Bite. But we didn’t know that at the time. The things he said were definitely orders, but not the ones we thought. He was telling the other Hunters to ready safehouses. Grapevine, Granbury, and Glen Rose? They’re places.”
“Holy shit!” Jackson gives a disbelieving laugh. “So, then that means—”
“Exactly what you think it does.” Stiles flashes a triumphant smile. “I’ve figured out where Gerard slithered off to.”