Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles Stilinski for the first time-in a long time was new. And that was exactly what he needed.

Right?

New to this city, new to the building, new to being single again and also newly a pack-less wolf. This was all of course a welcome change, even as uncomfortable as it was to be so, well, new. Maybe new wasn't the right word to use for what exactly he was, maybe the better word was Omega, but outside of other wolves, it didn't mean much, and the word itself felt ugly in his mouth.

It was a dirty kind of word, it meant an outsider or a loner. Some Omegas left their packs of their own accord, some by force and some were sole survivors of a culling or hunter's attack. They were looked down upon and more often over, as an Omega wolf is much like a homeless person to humans, either seen with pity or contempt, and almost always unwelcome. So while the feeling of everything being somewhat new was refreshing in a way that soothed the frayed edges of Stiles' soul, it came with the burden of being an Omega in an unfamiliar place.

Stiles had known the day that he had toured the apartments that the owner was an Alpha wolf, the scent of one is hard to mistake, and his was almost overwhelming. Not a word was spoken about it between them the landlord didn't even scent him out, he just gave a look of acknowledgment, and a thin lip-less smile when Stiles paid for the first six months in cash up front. He was handed a key on the spot and that's the moment he discovered that his landlord was also his neighbor, being right across the hall, their two lofts making up the entire floor.

Which was fine...

There was a level of security living near another wolf like this, and an Alpha wolf at that, especially one that seemed to not be given to territorial aggression. In this close proximity the Alpha's scent overpowered his own, which offered a level of anonymity as it almost masked his scent entirely. The doors to the lofts seemed to be both sound and scent proof for the most part, but in the hallways and the lift the Alpha's scent was there masking him. If anyone came looking they would be hard pressed to find him...and if they did, there was an Alpha next door that likely wouldn't look kindly on trouble being brought to his building.

***-***-***

Three months from the day Stiles moved in was the first real conversation that he had with his landlord and neighbor. He had come to just expect silent nods and and quick scanning looks, a few waves, but no talking...so it came as a great shock when the other man spoke.

“Stiles right?” Stiles had just exited his own door as the door across the hall opened with a sudden rush of air that smelled both sour and stale.

In it stood his landlord, a tall broad man with dark hair, handsomely unshaven, but if he was honest, unwashed looking. He was dressed in a rumpled white tank top with ketchup stains, that still showed his musculature namely his pecs swathed in dark coarse hair. A pair of ratty black basketball shorts with a loose hem finished the look with a thread dangling loose and frayed over a well formed calf. His hazel-green eyes were circled low with dark bags and lines of concern etched his forehead and the corners of his eyes. In his arms was screaming infant, whom with each powerful wail made his bearer flinch as he held him.

Stiles twists a finger inside his ear to quell the highest tones the infant emits, “That's me. Mr Hale right? Man your little one has some lungs...and vibrato,” he jokes softly, only to be met with a scowl of utter misery from Mr. Hale as he gently rocks the babe in his arms. 

“Uh, Derek, please,” the other man replies as he bounces the baby ineffectively, his expression shifting to frantic, “Look I know this is a really out there request, but I'm at my wits end, so forgive me please. Do you happen know anything about babies, wolf babies?”

Stiles chuckles slapping his thighs in amusement, “Are you serious, me? Just like that?”

Derek nods frantically ignoring the fact that Stiles just laughed in his face when he asked for help, “Look I-I know what you are, that's why I'm asking you specifically. I know it's a long shot, but its not like I can call a nanny with little Eli here. Please if there's any chance, just please,” As if on cue the eyes of the infant in his arms flash yellow as he flails more aggressively in Derek's arms, putting up what for an infant was a really good fight against a fully grown man. Woe to the person who has to give him an unwanted nap.

Stiles winces at another very impressive scream that bordered on evolving an inhuman whistle that was likely able to shatter plate glass, “What exactly do you need form me thought? I like to think I'm good with kids, but you have to know that I haven't baby sat since like , middle school so maybe lower your expectations.”

“Nothing that involved, I promise. If you could just get him to eat, any amount at all, and I'll be happy. He hasn't ate in almost two days and neither of us has slept in nearly as long, maybe longer for me...it's all starting to run together if I'm honest. Just, please, help me.” Derek's voice teeters on the precipice of begging and it's not lost on Stiles how humiliating it must be to an Alpha to ask an Omega for help, to be on the verge of begging. 

Stiles nods in agreement with a half smile and hastily Derek steps aside to usher him across the hall and into his own apartment, as he closes the door all the ambient noise from the hallway and beyond stops, it's even more soundproof than his own, explains why Stiles had never heard Eli before today.

“Lets see what we can do now little man,” Stiles holds out his hands with a small grin, ready to take Eli from his father. Derek hands him over and he immediately stops crying, stilling in the new set of arms as if it was all some clever joke the two of them had made up to punish Derek for an unknown reason or sin. Stiles presses Eli's small body to his chest like he's done this everyday for years while Eli fingers at a hole in the collar of his soft red shirt with a chubby digit.

“No way,” Derek gasps as the room goes quiet and Eli softly stretches and coos in Stiles arms, like they are old friends. He drags his fingers through his greasy hair and resists the urge to laugh hysterically as he finishes the motion. Stiles meanwhile rocks the baby, walking in small circles as he smiles down at him in his arms. Derek feels a familiar and unexpected tug in the center of his chest at the sight of this pale, slender man and his child together. It should feel unnerving to have some random Omega hold his child so casually.

'Who the hell even asks their new neighbor for help like this anyways?' he thinks to himself but somehow finds the sight of it all so...domestic.

Derek sees the warmth of Stiles' soft brown eyes, framed by thick dark lashes as he fusses over Eli. “Have a bottle ready?” he turns to Derek with an ease of calm that oddly makes Derek feel more frantic as stomach does an involuntary flip. He pauses for a second too long struck by the sight of Stiles back lit by the rising sun, with his child in his arms.

Eli is holding tightly to one of Stiles' long delicate fingers.

Derek springs into action in a way that makes Stiles snort in a laugh, He races into his kitchen and rummages around the cluttered counter tops for a fresh bottle, throwing aside many dirty ones in the process. Finally he finds a fresh one and then measures out the formula and adds it in with the water before he places it in the bottle warmer on the counter, “Just a sec,” Derek yells from the kitchen, as he knocks over a stack of dirty dishes and cusses loud enough for Stiles to hear.

Stiles steps backward to look past the living area into the kitchen where Derek is knelt with a broom and dustpan gathering up piles of broken stoneware off of the floor. He can't help but to notice that the entire apartment is in heavy disarray. Clothes litter the couch and the banister to the upper level, cartons of take-out and various shapes of coffee mugs obscure the entirety of the the coffee table, while books seem to be piled in small clusters every where his eyes landed inside the apartment. Dust bunnies are alive and well in all the corners and then there is Derek's undiluted Alpha musk in the air. It's so potent it kind of makes his nostrils burn and threaten to tear up.

He also can't help but notice what he can only call Scruffy McDaddy Wolf, over in the kitchen, has a very nice ass as he stoops the clean up the broken plates. Even with the musk burning his sensitive eyes and clawing it's way up his nose Stiles can't help but to stare as he catches sight of the dimples along the base of Derek's spine staring at him over the elastic of his waistband.

Derek turns in time to catch him scenting the air as he returns with the bottle, both men blush when their eyes meet, “Sorry.”

“It's OK,” Stiles offers with a small smile as he takes the bottle and dabs it on his arm to test it, glad he was caught sniffing and not staring at Derek's ass.

“It's not, and there's really no excusing it. I was never prepared for any of this, or to be a father, let alone a single one. I am failing him and we both know it's pretty clear looking at us right?” Derek drags a hand down his face again, and if it is possible he looks even more tired than second before. It's clear he's trying, it's clear that it's going rough, and its also clear that it's taking its toll on him. He's a dad-wolf in survival mode. Stiles feels a fondness in his chest, Eli's situation is a lot like how he himself was raised.

Eli latches onto the bottle without preamble and Derek cusses in response to the sight of it, “No fucking shit!” his eyes are wide in amazement as Stiles seems to be a pup whisperer or some Deep Woods Wolf Saint sent to intercede his sub level parenting skills. Eli suckles hungrily, kicking his tiny cloth covered feet happily, as he looks up at Stiles with adoration, or the infant equivalent.

Stiles suddenly feels as if there is an invisible tether placed around his neck as he looks down at the babe in his arms, 'I'd do anything for him.' Stiles and his wolf say in unison.

“How? I've been trying to feed him every two hours since last night and he wouldn't take a thing from me. I swear as he gets older he resists me more, and he gets stronger too, what's gonna happen when he reaches a year?” Derek asks in bewilderment, his brows upturned as he watches his son eat happily and quietly in a strangers arms that must offer some secret or comfort he wasn't privy to...

“It's the way you smell,” Stiles states factually even as his voice creaks in the middle. It's unwise to anger an Alpha even more so to insult him in his home, however it is also smart to be direct...he just hopes Derek isn't easy to anger.

“My smell?” Derek asks skeptically as he curls down the right corner of his mouth in a crooked frown.

“Uh-huh,” Stiles never takes his eyes off Eli as he feds him, “You're an Alpha, and an unwashed one at that. Not to be offensive I promise, but you're overwhelming him. Your Alpha musk is so strong, even I'm struggling with it, but I can tell you whats happening, he can only cry about it.”

Derek's mouth works open then closed again as he struggles with this information, and exactly how to respond to it in kind. Did Stiles just politely tell him he not only stinks, but that his marinated funk is the source of all his problems with his son.

“Pups are just like human babies they can't really do much for themselves or communicate outside of fussing or crying, but they have their senses, they come in quicker than everything else, smell is first.”

“How do you know so much? You're a bitten wolf I can sense it you weren't raised with all of this,” Derek asserts calmly as he draws a tiny bit closer perhaps more curious than he should be. This strange Omega is more interesting with each passing minute.

Stiles gives him an easy smile as fond memories are brought forward in his mind by the question, “Our pack Emissary was also the town vet, and I worked with him every summer both before and after being bitten I went on full time. I'm also kind of a neurodivergent sponge, I store a libraries' worth of random facts and other potentially useless information hoping that one day that it might become useful. Like today. Or that maybe I'll end up on Jeopardy one day, I could kick ass at jeopardy.”

Stiles beams up at Derek who looks back at him confused and curious, he feels confident that if he still has his head at this point that he is in no danger of angering the Alpha wolf towards violence, “So when is the last time you had a proper shower?”

Derek instantly blushes, feeling vulnerable, and ducks his head as if Stiles threw the question instead of asked it, “I'm not entirely sure.” His voice is small and embarrassed, a stark contrast to his imposing form.

Stiles just clucks his tongue with an 'I knew it' smirk that might be a bit rude but if it was Derek didn't say anything about it. If anything he accepts it as proof of that he's failing and it sucks all the wind of Stiles' sails in an instant...he feels guilt creep up from his belly as he watches the larger wolf shrink before him.

“Well I'm here, if you feel like you can trust me I don't mind staying with Eli and letting you get a shower. Does he have a nursery? We can hold up in there while you take care of that,”

Derek hesitates, everything about this feels like its going a little too smoothly, but Stiles looks so harmless. In fact Stiles feels too good too be true...which should make Derek suspicious, can anyone be just so naturally good? He knows this should be weird, that it could even be dangerous for him or Eli, but Stiles smells like cut grass, sunflowers and the sky right before it rains, he smells like safety itself.

In fact if he had to describe Stile's scent in one word, it would be Haven.

“You could lock me in, if it makes you feel better about it,” Stiles offers light-heartedly as he follows Derek down a short brick walled hallway. They enter Eli's nursery, and like the rest of the apartment it's cluttered and in disarray. Not dirty, nothing is necessarily dirty...just generally unkept . It's obvious that Derek is trying, anyone could see that, he just needs a little help.

There's clothes both in bags and on the floor, decorations leaning up against a wall, and just general clutter that shows good intentions and the death of them all in one room. It's obvious from the state of this room and the other parts of the loft that Stiles has seen, that Derek is too proud to ask for any help, which he can relate to himself. Stiles also couldn't help but to think about his own Dad and how one day he Just became a single father too. Did someone step in for him?

“I don't think that's necessary,” Derek chuckles scratching his wiry beard with blunt nails, “I don't know why, but I just trust you. You smell safe.”

Stiles smiles, his wolf preening inside of him at the compliment. In the wolf world smell is one of, if not the most trusted of senses. Being told you smell safe carries weight, being told you smell safe by an unknown Alpha is damn near an honor in this context, “Then let me take care of him, I'll make sure he's fed and changed, and you go shower. Take your time I have nothing else going on, just make sure that you use lots of hot water, and wash everything twice, maybe three times, especially in the bendy crevicey places.” Stiles gives him awkward thumbs up.

Derek's face splits in a genuine smile followed by a dry laugh, allowing Stiles to catch sight of his front teeth. They are a centimeter longer than the rest of his teeth giving him a tiny, bunny-like overbite. That paired with the backdrop of his ruggedly handsome face is perhaps one of the most adorable things Stiles has ever seen. His heart does a little flip flop, which he hides with a well timed cough and averts his eyes. He can't let himself be drawn in by this Downtrodden Dirty Daddy, or worse, alert him to the faint tendrils of his growing attraction, that's the last thing he needs.

“You're bossy. Which I like that, just don't overdo it, OK?” Derek laughs as he takes a deep breath and prepares to leave the room, "OK, this is me, leaving you with my only child...the child of an Alpha...an Alpha that could rip out your throat with his teeth, so uh...ignore that, I'll be back. Sorry.” Derek gives him a sheepish grin as he rubs at the back of his neck and turns away, his threat hollow as he scurries away like something much smaller and meeker than he is.

Stiles laughs at his awkward exit and his mock hollow threat, thinking that it might not be the worst thing in the world to have Derek's teeth at his neck, but he quickly abolished the thought before it's allowed to fully form.

Before he even hears the water running in the shower upstairs, Eli is finished eating and starting to doze off calmly in his arms. Stiles burps him gently on his shoulder, to which he barely stirs and then lays him down like a bag of precious potatoes in his crib. He instantly settles curls up like a bean as Stiles swaddles his body and watches intently as his tiny muscles go lax in the small crib.

Feeling anxious being left alone Stiles starts to do the only thing he can think of, clean the room. At first he collected things absentmindedly as a way to fill time and keep his hands busy, then he worked with more purpose. He gathers clothes sniffing out the soiled ones and folding the others into the drawers of a small blue dresser. He takes empty bottles to the kitchen where he also takes the time to load the dishwasher with the crusted plates on the counter that had survived Derek's earlier bodily assault.

Finding trash bags under the kitchen sink Stiles trails back to the nursery collecting takeout containers, disposable cups, empty formula cans and other small garbage along the way. Back in the nursery he empties out the diaper bin and picks up the pile of dirty baby clothes making his way back out to the living room. He sets the trash bag by the door and finding Derek's washer and dryer loads up the washer, its located in the same spot as his own.

Spying some of Derek's dirty clothes on the couch, the accent chair and the banister leading upstairs Stiles collects them too and begins to sort them to be laundered as well, Stiles can't help but notice Derek only has plain black thongs for underwear...nothing else in all of the piles. It makes him smile thinking of Derek, who radiates jock-bro energy, wearing these under everything and no on knowing. It may have even been the appeal of it to Derek.

After rifling through the piles and adding them to the wash Stiles feels like he may have overstepped boundaries and trampled right into pervy stalker territory...'at least you didn't sniff them,' he praises himself. It's not like Derek wasn't going to notice he things had been moved, he wasn't even given permission to do this. So Stiles decides to just act like he never took note of it and moves on, because how mad can someone be to get free maid service AND free child care.

Stiles walks back to the nursery to check on Eli, who is still sleeping calm and quiet, then turns his head to hear Derek still washing up, humming a pop song he can't place at this distance. Stiles decides to look through some of the boxes and finds only items that were very obviously meant to be put out in the room, but never made it.

First is a small porcelain lamp, its base a mother wolf grooming her pups, and Stiles places it on the small blue dresser and plugs it in. Next he finds a tapestry that even came with adhesive wall mounts and a hand written note form someone named Braeden. He hangs it on the bare wall behind the crib, his tall lanky build making easy work of it. It features a small wolf running through an evergreen forest under a dark navy sky filled with delicate stars and a full moon, each piece seems to be hand cut felt, neatly stitched into place by hand. Next is a vintage looking mobile that snaps together in two pieces on the side of the crib. From it dangles small stars, moons and comets with glittery tails. He finds more clothes that he puts away and a blanket he throws over the rocking chair in the corner. The one of the final items is a small woven rug that features a sleeping wolf, Stiles rolls it out in front of the crib and steps back surveying his work as he quietly breaks down all the empty boxes for the garbage. The last item in the final box is a stuffed wolf, its black body soft as actual fur with bright turquoise eyes, its roughly the size of Eli. He places is at the back of the crib away from Eli while he sleeps.

“What did you do?”

Stiles spins around so fast he nearly falls on his ass, Derek, who appeared out of no where is standing there mouth open in awe right outside the doorway. Stiles steadies himself for what he might be about to say.

And fuck.

OK, It's not like Stiles hadn't recognised that Derek was attractive before he cleaned himself up, his stomach had managed to flip at the sight of him twice even in his unwashed state. But washed up he wasn't just dumb jock hot, he was porn star pretty! Derek's dark hair is still damp and mindfully tousled, his beard has been trimmed down to neat stubble and lined up sharply along his cheekbones and his square jaw. His hazel green eyes are brighter and less weary which makes his entire face look painfully fresh and inviting especially his lips that look so pink against his darker skin and the blue-black stubble. Stiles gulps and steps aside to let Derek inspect the room.

Derek is dressed in a pair of dark jeans, that must be a modern marvel the way they hold in and mold to the bulk of Derek's wide muscular thighs that he had been hiding under those ratty basketball shorts.

Shit.

Derek's upper half is wrapped in a simple white cotton t-shirt that was just fucking obscene to behold, it was stretched taut over his wide chest, his dark chest hair and dusky nipples faintly visible through the light material stretched thin over him. His arms are crossed over his impressively sculpted chest with his biceps on full display, threatening to shred the sleeves of the shirt if Derek were to flex the tiniest bit more.

Fuck.

Stiles swallows hard again as Derek steps into the room surveying Stiles' work and his sleeping son. God he smells so fucking good. Freshly washed Stiles can smell Derek's actual scent and not the stale musk that had cloyed his nose and eyes before. Derek smells like Cedar, Leather and something unique that Stiles can't name, but it gives the feeling of opening up an old cedar chest that had been sealed for decades. If he had to put it in one word Home, Derek smells like home.

“I hope this was OK,” Stiles replies nervously breaking the silence, his shoulders slightly hunched as he prepares to get a tongue lashing and not the fun kind.

“OK? This is amazing, how did you manage to get all of this done while I showered?” Derek asks as he spins around taking in the clean room, the decor and the lack of boxes and clothes on the floor. It actually looks like a nursery now and not a shipping depot with a baby crib.

“It was just a few boxes and some dirty clothes oh and a few dishes, and diapers and..." Stiles stops abruptly blushing under the intense weight of Derek's gaze, "it's not like I scrubbed the baseboards of anything, I just picked up” Stiles finishes as he kicks the carpet with his shoe.

“No, it's definitely something Stiles, wow. I kept telling myself I was gonna do this that Eli deserved it, it took almost no time for you and those boxes have been in here for months,” Derek says his eyes a little misty as he turns to observe Stiles who is desperately trying to not look Derek directly in the eye and also not be caught staring ta his body (even though he is).

“To be fair, you've been in survival mode here, and I have ADHD. You know that old saying about idle hands and the devil?” Stiles holds out his hands with a dry laugh, "that's me."

“You're a godsend. Truly.” Derek gushes at him which makes Stiles go all splotchy down his long neck towards his collar. They both laugh a little nervously as Derek moves further in to watch Eli sleep a little closer, poking at the mobile with a finger letting the moons, stars, and comets spin.

Stiles can't help but notice even with the shower and dressed in that simple outfit that has no damn business being so sexy , Derek looks tired. Even though his eyes are brighter, there's a dullness behind them, lines of weariness wreath his eyes and his mouth and there is a slump in his shoulders that feels out of place for someone built like that. It's glaring this close that he needs more rest.

“Why don't you go upstairs, change your sheets and give me any other laundry that you have. I'll work on that and you take a nap,” Stiles says with a finger curled and resting over his chin, “You smell immensely better but you're still ass tired Derek. I don't want you undoing all my work by being Mr. Zombie Dad in a few hours. Deal?”

Derek turns his head with his thick, dark brows drawn together in the middle, “If I say yes, why exactly am I changing the sheets and giving you my laundry?”

“Because I can smell them from here, and from now on you're going to be Mr. Hygenic Wolf yes?” Stiles nods his head at Derek who goes stony in the face, all serious, and maybe a touch embarrassed that Stiles can smell his bed form here, but he can too now that he's washed and aware, so he doesn't argue.

“And the other laundry?”

“To keep me busy. I already started washing everything I found down here...I actually got to see your couch” Stiles smirks and motions softly at Eli, “ and he's gonna be out, you're gonna be out and I can't just sit still i a strange house, so...laundry please,” Stiles holds out a long arm, palm up towards Derek.

Derek rolls his eyes dramatically but there's a fondness in it like he enjoys being told what to do, “You're turning out to be really bossy you know that?” There's a lilt in his voice that doesn't go unnoticed by Stiles.

“And you're being very obstinate in the face of free help for the sake of being Mr. Stinky Alpha Wolf,” Stiles quips back, feeling safe enough to shade the imposing man beside him. Derek let's out a huff of hot air through his nose unexpectedly.

“Fine,” Derek stomps away in what could only be described as a tantrum, like he's lost some play fight or been told to wash behind his ears after an unwanted bath. Stiles follows a few feet behind and watches as he disappears up the stairs with restrained amusement at his immature behaviuor.

“ooomph!” Stiles is smacked in the head with the balled up sheets from the bed followed by the pillow cases which he ducks from, then the comforter that knocks him on his ass with a solid thud to the polished floors.

“Jerk,” He calls up teasingly as he rubs his ass, standing with the armfuls of Derek's musky bedding.

Derek emerges holding an overfilled basket of dirty clothes and a canvas tote full of blankets and pillows, “Catch,” He calls down and drops the basket and tote down to Stiles. His childish frustration is gone, replaced by a guilty look after realising that his room really did stink which was likely the cause for his childishness anyways, not that he would ever admit that.

“Are you sure you want to do all of this? You barely know me, and this just feels like a lot,” Derek states with a small frown. It's a lot for him to accept help like this...he hasn't even allowed his mother to help him this much, and now a near stranger is organising his life and filling up his space with warmth that he didn't even know was lacking

“If you're gonna spoil someone who better than your landlord?” Stiles says with a shrug making Derek chuckle softly from above him.

Derek makes him agree that if he gets bored or changes his mind to come wake him up. He checks three more times before he finally goes to his hallway closet and grabs new bedding. Stiles hears him change the sheets then close the door to his room leaving just a crack to keep an ear out, either a force of habit as a dad or an Alpha's security measure against random Omegas doing their delicates fifteen feet below away.

A few hours later Derek wakes up just in time to see the sun set, he throws on some pajama bottoms and a clean tank top and heads down stairs, but stops dead in his tracks immediately as he reaches the bottom. There on his worn in couch is Stiles on his back fast asleep. Two neatly stacked piles of laundry a tote and a basket of folded sitting next to the couch itself. His entire upper half is haloed with with various baby toys and Eli is being held securely to his chest with a long delicate arm and one hand cradling his back. They are both drooling from the mouth, Eli's tiny hand gripping the ear of his new wolf stuffie that is partially between them.

It's cute, they almost match. Derek wishes he had a camera close by or his phone to capture this moment, but doesn't.

There's a feeling in Derek that he wasn't sure that he would ever experience, something he had been trying to avoid most of the day, but here in the quiet...he can't. His heart does a weird flutter, but not the one you get when meet a cute wolf or a nice girl at the supermarket, it's different, very different. This is the flutter of watching or seeing someone care for your child just as easily as you do, and caring for you even when they don't have to and not really being asked to do either. Derek had taken a big risk, hoping his Omega neighbor might know anything about pups, and he's glad he did because the feeling he can't deny is that Stiles belong here...he fits.

Stiles snores softly, and Derek can't suppress the smile that splits his face, like the night being split by the rising of the sun. It feels unnatural, but not unpleasant, this being the second time the younger man has given him reason to smile today. Derek thinks it might be nice to have a reason to smile more often and his wolf agrees, suddenly awake and alert. So right then and there, in his quiet loft, with a strange wolf cradling his son Derek decides he has to learn everything he can about the rogue wolf drooling in unison with his child.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers in an almost reverent tone as he steps towards the couch, "Stiles."

Chapter Text

Derek crosses the floor intending to gently extract his son from Stiles' sleeping arms, but he's met with a raised lip and a soft, sleepy snarl from the prone man on his couch.

Derek attempts to quietly ease back without disturbing them, but Stiles snaps upright without warning, gnashing inhumanly sharp teeth, yellow wolf eyes flashing as he clutches Eli protectively to his chest, where a dangerous growl vibrates like thunder in an empty room.

Instinctively Derek straightens out his spine, his irises burning red in kind to Stiles' yellow ones in an instant. He presses out a low growl in response exerting his influence down over the smaller wolf holding his son. It's instinct, Alpha instinct, a natural response, albeit not a kind one.

Stiles crumples up under the feeling of it his eyes instantly melting back to warm brown, he bows his head down and holds out Eli with a tremor in his arms. He turns his face from Derek in embarrassment and submission, “Sorry I....”

Derek eases himself deflating a little as he realsises how strongly he had reacted, “No, it's-uh...shit. You shouldn't have to apologise,” he blows out a long breath his cheeks puffing slightly, “I'm glad your instinct was to protect Eli even in your sleep, I'm sorry I dominated you like that, that's not fair or kind.” They both know they were reacting on instinct, but both of them still feel guilty anyway, Derek more so.

Alphas are often thought of as kind of being assholes when in comes to exerting dominance. Most of the time it was more of a threat, sometimes the idea of it or the initial weight of it enough to get a point across without pressing down. But feeling the full weight of Alpha dominance forcing you to submit, felt like torture, like a horror movie playing out on your body while you're trapped inside. Your muscles contracting to force you to a kneeling position, the squeeze at your neck, stealing breath and speech, that many called "the collar', and the mental voice of the Alpha's command. 

Derek doesn't want Stiles to think he's an Alpha that uses this whenever the mod strikes him.

Stiles stretches his neck with a loud *pop*, muscles still straining under the lingering pressure of an Alpha wolf's dominance, “Ok owww!” he feebly hands over Eli with shaky hands as he tries to shake out the physical effects groaning as he stretches out his long slender limbs. Eli who slept through all of this, now makes a sound of displeasure being handed over to his father, kicking stubbornly.

“Sorry little Moonbeam,” Stiles winces as he stretches out his jaw, the stiffness making him speak through clenched teeth, “Shit! I haven't felt this in so long I forgot how much it sucked ass on every level of ass suckery.”

Derek smiled a little nervously through his shame, hoping to lighten the mood, “Moonbeam. That's the nicest thing you've called me since you met me. You really like nicknames, huh?”

Stiles balks, nearly falling over as abandons his stretches, “No, not you, Eli,” He motions frantically to the fussy pup in Derek's arms eyes wide with shock.

“Oh,” Derek replies, a slight blush blooming and then quickly fading from his cheeks. He ignores the pang of the name not being meant for him. 'What a dumb thought anyways.'

He fidgets a bit sheepishly for a second with the buttons on Eli's onsie as Stiles regains his bearings and schools the flush in his own cheeks away, “So your Alpha, they didn't influence you very often?”

“No," Stiles answers with an odd kind of pained smile on his face, "Peter, he uh, well he was a bit of a bastard really, but he preferred corporal punishment, if you catch my drift. He was always a little rough around the edges, but a good Alpha incredibly protective. By the way he was a Hale, Peter Hale. Any relation to your pack or your family?”

Derek ponders, turning his chin up slightly, “Not that I know of, my mother is an only child, and I only have two sisters, and my dad took the Hale name and there's no Peter on his side. So maybe a distant cousin, but not one I know of unless he was exiled before I was born. Maybe I'll call my mom later and ask her, She'd probably like to know if there's another Alpha Hale out there that we don't know of.”

There was an awkward silence as the two men stood facing each other silently, Eli wiggling unhappily in his father's arms reaching towards Stiles.

“Thank you. For all of this everything that you did,” Derek nods to the room and the folded laundry neatly stacked then to Eli in his arms, “I don't fully understand why you've been so helpful, you almost seem unreal, but I am grateful, truly.”

Stiles steps forward with small smile and taps Eli on the nose, “I just couldn't say no to this cute little face, right Moonbeam?” Eli giggles happily grasping for his finger, “and I guess I took pity on you Tall Dark & Stinky.”

Derek grabs his chest as if wounded with his free hand, “I guess I deserve that, it was kind of pitiful. Say, how would you feel about joining me for dinner? I have a fresh steaks from the butchers and it's the least I could do after all your help.” Derek smiles kindly at Stiles, holding his breath as he waits for an answer.

“Oh no. I couldn't possibly, I didn't help you expecting for anything in return,” Stiles protests waving his hands at Derek, but despite his words his stomach rumbles loudly in response to the mention of food. Stiles blushes red, the flush disappearing beneath his shirt collar.

Derek smirks, amused, “I think I'm going to go with your gut on this one. Can I bother you to entertain Eli a little longer while I cook?”

Stiles sheepishly takes Eli, his face a calmer shade of pink now, “Come here little Moonbeam,” He turns to follow Derek as he heads to the kitchen and opens the fridge, “I'm only accepting dinner because I haven't unpacked my kitchen, and my fridge is kind of empty at the moment, or the last several moments if I'm being honest.”

“But you've been here months, how have you been cooking all this time?” Derek asks curiously his brows drawn up.

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly, “I get by.” He paces around the side of the kitchen with Eli in his arms as Derek starts to boil some potatoes, and cut the tails off of some  asparagus, before moving on to season the steaks. Derek can't help but detect the lie..He's lying about eating?

Derek starts to notice the state of Stiles himself. He's naturally tall and lanky, so it didn't stand out at first, but now he sees it. The point of Stiles' elbows just a bit too sharp as he bounces Eli, the skin over his cheeks just a bit hollow and tight as he smiles, his wide doe like eyes just a bit unnaturally sunken in. He scents the air carefully, he doesn't detect any sickness, but he does catch the sour scent of lingering sadness, like an old cheese past it's prime, as if it's molding inside of Stiles.

Derek sets the table as Stiles makes a fresh bottle of Eli on the counter behind him. They all sit down at the table together, Stiles unwilling to relinquish Eli as he manages to hold and feed him with his left hand while feeding himself with his right. Derek has never once managed to do such a thing and feels the tiniest bit jealous of the skill, but also in awe of it..

Two things become clear as soon as the two of them settle down to eat, Stiles is starving but desperately trying to hide just how hungry he is from Derek and Stiles has formed an unspoken bond with is son, in less than 24 hours, that already feels significant.

Derek cant help but hone his hearing in, mesmerised by the small sounds of happiness Stiles is trying to keep quiet as he eats. It's made even more attention grabbing paired with the ease and care he's using to feed Eli at the same time. The sight and sounds of it begin to stir up a soft storm inside of Derek and his wolf, emotions that he hasn't had a use for in some time...infatuation, hope, the rough edges of desire. Derek decides he might not mind such a storm growing and his wolf seems to agree.

“I'm glad you decided to join us,” Derek smiles, hoping his voice feels steadier than his thoughts right now, “it gets lonely after a while just me and Eli. He can't really enjoy my cooking and hes a terrible conversationalist on top of that.” Derek jokes softly.

Stiles smiles with mouthful of steak, swallowing it down roughly before allowing himself to laugh at the joke. As he looks over at Derek he can't imagine someone like him being lonely, unless he wanted to be...had Derek seen himself. Unwashed or not Derek was easily a 10 on the Dick Me Down Daddy scale, and on top of that he seems so nice, maybe a little stubborn and temperamental but nice, and he cooks too!

“Does that mean Eli's other parent isn't involved in your lives?” Stiles asks with a hint cautious curiosity.

“Oh,” Derek's shoulders go stiff as he bristles at he sudden question, “he's not.”

“Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..” Stiles heart rate spikes with panic, he's really manged to shove both of his feet in his mouth at once, FUCK!

Derek reaches out towards his hand as if to soothe him, “Oh no it's not like that. Eli, his other father, he....” Derek struggles to find the words, hes hasn't had this conversation yet at least not outside of his pack, “he was less prepared than me to be a father. We weren't ever really together, it was a mistake, a good mistake, “ He smiles at Eli in Stiles' lap, “but a mistake how it all happened. His other father, Jackson he let himself go into heat, he hadn't been taking his inhibitors god knows if he did it on purpose or not. It was dumb, we ended up alone on a Full Moon run, away from the rest of the pack, and then it just happened.” Derek looks away, a frown pulling down the corner of his mouth.

Stiles cheeks are a bit flushed listening to the story, “So a double male birth, that's cool, I knew it was possible, but it's neat to see it...or the result of it at least. Also rude calling my favourite little guy a mistake.”

Derek shakes his head and laughs dryly, “Not Eli, never Eli. However the hormone fueled one night romp with Jackson...that was all a mistake. He's wasn't exactly who I would ever pick to be a father with either. It's my fault though, I'm an Alpha...he was my Beta, I should have been better even if it did give me Eli. My mom, Talia, she says I should have been focused on finding a mate, but it seems like even less of an option with a new pup though...he's cute but not exactly an aphrodisiac. You know, I envy human guys, never having to worry about a baby from anal sex."

Stiles snickers at Derek's comment about sex, "It might have been different if wolf pregnancies lasted a little longer too. 4 months wasn't enough time for Jackson to accept being a parent, barely enough time for me too either and there was zero bond between us. He also never stopped complaining about how his body looked ,how he'd never get dick like this...it was so exhausting. Then one morning I woke up and he had dropped Eli off at the door, not a word, not a call or a note, just a baby that I didn't even get to witness the birth of. He was just gone. He hadn't originally wanted me to be involved, even though he knew i wanted to be, and then there I was scrambling to make him a place, to figure out how to feed him and and when or how to give him a bath, and how the fuck diaper sizing works. Mom and my sisters helped me but was all just so much, they have their own lives. These are all things I wanted to figure out with someone, even Jackson...I'd never be with him but I would have been a parent with him.”

Stiles takes in the bitter edge of Derek's words and the hurt that lurks in the back of his eyes. He reaches over to put a hand on Derek's where it rests on the table between them. He runs a thumb over his raised knuckles slowly just for comfort, just to let Derek know he's been heard.

“You know, even though you are kind of a mess, no offense but I did clean most your loft today, I'm impressed with how you put Eli first, even over your own needs. It's so evident how much you care for him, and that you're a great dad, you're pretty fucking incredible. You didn't think you'd get to be a part of his life..then BAM...you're his entire life and hes yours!. I'm sorry that this incredible little guy came with that price.”

Derek blushes, and doesn't move his hand from under Stiles'. The point of connection feels grounding, and safe, “Thank you.”

Stiles just smiles and looks down at Eli for a second, “You know I always wanted a child. I always saw myself having at least one, some day. And I know bitten wolves aren't that desirable to have pups with, but I'd like to believe someone, someday might be dumb or desperate enough to carry mine.” Stiles laughs at his own self deprecating joke, earning a steeling look from Derek that makes him feel exposed.

“Jackson was bitten,” Derek offers up.

“And the carrier of your pup, not you with his,” Stiles replies with a shrug.

“Does being the inseminator really mean that much to you?” Derek asks with a curious smile, his brows lowered teasingly.

“Yes. No. I-I'm not sure. And what a weird way to ask that...inseminator.  It's just how I picture it, when I think of a family, the way I would like it to be. It's stupid isn't it? To want that? To be a Beta let alone and Omega, wanting that?” Stiles pulls back his hand and drops his eyes low, staring at a stray scuff mark on the table.

“Hey,” Derek holds out his hand, waiting for Stiles to acknowledge it, he tentatively he takes it after a minute. “It's not stupid. Bitten or born, Alpha or Beta I feel very confident that there's one if not many men that would happily take your pup.”

Stiles smiles ruefully, “God we're a mess huh? The struggling single dad and the stray wolf that just wants a family.”

Derek grips his fingers with a gentle squeeze, “For what it's worth, you're going to be a great dad. Look how easily you've won over Eli.” As if on cue, Eli lolled back his small but over-sized head to look up at Stiles and laugh in his lap.

Stiles smiles back at giggling pup in his lap, and while it makes that deep longing for his own child burn the tiniest bit more fiercely it also makes him genuinely happy. It's a sweet moment, but it stings as he realises that this is the first genuine moment of happiness he's had since he ran... 

No, he wasn't gonna let those thoughts creep in, this was part of his fresh start. Can't! Yet vignettes of a past he wants so much to avoid start to roll like an antique movie reel, one by one.

“You OK?” Derek asks , “You went away somewhere.”

“Sorry I was just...I was thinking about...what you said, about me being a good father, that made me happy and I haven't felt happy like that in a while, so thank you,” Stiles seemed to struggle through his sentence and Derek sensed that there was something off about the moment, something not being said. Stiles smelled all wrong.

Sure he smelled happy in the surface, like fresh baked bread out of the oven, but there were layers that didn't belong hidden under that scent. Regret, antiseptic and bitter like a medicinal herb, Loss, cloyingly sweet like synthetic sugar, and underneath it all, Pain. Derek hates the smell of pain most of all, it's sharp and agitating like horseradish or wasabi, its burns from the inside out and makes his eyes water. 

'What's hurting him so bad he wants to hide it?'

Stiles realises that Derek has scented him and draws his hand back slowly his face going a bit paler than his natural shade. His eyes dart back and forth almost fearful as if he's preparing to run, “Please don't ask me,” he says softly his big doe-like eyes tinged with dullness that hadn't been there before.

Dread, metallic and chalky hits the back of Derek's palate as Stiles' scent changes in an instant.

“I won't,” Derek replies matching Stiles' own soft tone.

There's a curtain of gentle silence drawn, only Eli, too little to understand the emotional turmoil playing out above him, makes little coos and babbles still just happy to be secure in Stiles' lap. They finish the now cold remnants of their food in silence.

It's Derek that finally breaks the silence, “Would you like desert?” He gives Stiles and easy smile hoping he can ease the tension he inadvertently created. He wishes he could back up just a few seconds, have a do over, maybe not scent him so obviously, or maybe avoid the whole topic of children, anything but whatever this has become now.

Stiles is oddly still, and his answer feels robotic and cold, “Actually I think I should go home.”

Derek feels a weight grow drop in his chest, a desperation created by his wolf don't let him leave like this, “It's just across the hall. Share one bowl of ice cream with me, please?” Derek pleads for himself, and his wolf and maybe even the for the part of Stiles that shouldn't be alone right now. He makes sure to sound playful, easy, non-threatening.

“NO!” Stiles snaps unexpectedly, making Derek recoil, drawing back out of Stiles' immediate space, “Sorry. I just I-I need to go, now.”

Stiles hurriedly rises and hands off Eli to Derek without meeting his eyes, as if he's been punished or scolded. Derek feels his own mood darken as Stiles makes his way to the door, stopping to put his shoes on. His wolf is anxious and agitated at the back of his neck stop him, do anything stay stay stay.

“I'm sorry for whatever I said that pissed you off this much,” Derek says halfway between annoyed and just emotionally gutted, he doesn't want Stiles to leave, maybe ever, yet here he is...leaving. He especially doesn't want him to leave upset and he can't help but to think he might be making that worse.

Stiles stands tall and taut with his back to Derek, “You didn't piss me off Derek. You didn't do anything wrong. You just made me remember.”

'Remember what?' Derek thinks.

There's a choked noise and Derek knows that Stiles is crying even though he can't see his face. The scent of salt in the air confirms it.

“It gets lonely at breakfast time, just me and little Eli here by ourselves. If you're ever hungry or feel like keeping me company, we eat around 7am almost every day,” Derek tries one last thing, an open invitation involving food. He remembers how hungry Stiles had been tonight and thinks that it might be an in, “Just knock.”

Derek is answered with a wet, “OK,” that makes his heart stutter in the most painful way as Stiles opens the door and pulls it shut behind himself without another word.

And just like the sound proof door that holds back the wails of an infant werewolf, keeping the hallways silent and peaceful, feels like a coffin lid as Stiles leaves and takes all of his own beautiful noises and scents with him, and the quiet it leaves is anything but peaceful it's maddening.

But there was one thing. A small hope that Derek clings to.

That small wet 'OK.'

That was something, right? Not a no, not a goodbye.

Derek looks down at a curious Eli in his arms oblivious to everything except the absence of his new friend, “We're gonna get him back buddy. We have to.”

Eli stares up at him for a second then claps his stubby hands and kicks his feet in agreement.

"We just have to."

Chapter Text

The next day there is no sight nor sound from Stiles or his door across the hall. Derek debates knocking on his door, but decides better of it, not wanting to be pushy or overbearing, despite how much he needs to see him. After feeding himself and Eli, then ensuring he takes a shower to keep up with his musk, he stomps around the apartment for hours pondering if Stiles was OK and what he could do, if anything, to encourage him back.

He's in a foul mood, which isn't all that uncommon. It was no secret to those that were close to him he was a bit of a broody, stoic asshole sometimes, and today it's evident for anyone that happens to get in his way. He radiates shimmering waves of frustration and unease like an overheated engine on a hot summer's day. Eli has stayed fussy most of the morning until it was finally his nap time, which he seemed happy to take for once, possibly to escape the aura of his father. Even with his scent in check, Eli still had little patience for his father.

Alone, and with no one and nothing else to distract him he decides to call his mother and inquire about Peter, Stiles' Alpha. The line rings as he calls out, pacing in the kitchen, his bare feet slapping the floor.

“Derek!” his mother greets him happily as she answers, “how's my favourite son? And my favourite grandson?”

Derek smiles in spite of himself and his foul mood, “Mom, I am your only son.”

“Which changes nothing about what I just said,” Talia laughs into the line, the sound of it almost melodic, “So how are my boys, still at odds with each other?”

“Actually, we're doing a lot better. I got some help from the Omega that rented out the loft across form me,” Derek responds sitting down on his couch and leaning back as he presses the phone to his ear.

“An Omega...that's unexpected,” his mother's voice rose at the end, feeling less then amicable.

“Mom, don't be a classist about this, he's easily one of the friendliest wolves I've ever met, and actually he's kind of why I called you,” Derek replies in that put upon way that only a child can, causing his mother to roll her eyes fondly on the other end of the line unseen.

“Is that so? Well for your information I am not a classisst, I just happen to just be distrustful. But do go on, you have my attention, what about his wolf made you want to call me...like you need a reason,” Talia answers her curiosity pulling her away from being offended at her son's "classist" comment .

“Ok, well it's the Alpha of his pack, he said his name was Peter Hale, a bit of a rougher wolf from what little he said, but good. Do we know a Peter? Have you heard that name before. I told him I didn't know of a Peter and that you're an only child, it just seemed like a weird coincidence.”

*silence* long and tense...

“Mom?” through the phone Derek can hear his mother's uneven heartbeat as she cusses quietly under her breath, “MOM!” he yells into the line.

“No need to yell Derek I am right here, I heard you the first time,” her tone is clipped. There's another beat of too-long silence, “I think I should come over. If we're going to talk about this it has to be in person, I'm leaving now.” And without another word she ends the call without so much as a goodbye.

“The fuck?” Derek cusses looking down at the ended call on his phone, the image of the red receiver lighting up the screen.

Twenty minutes later there's an expected knock at the door to the loft. Derek promptly opens it to reveal his mother backlit by the harsh buzz of fluorescent lights, somehow managing to look effortlessly beautiful even in the unflattering light. She smiles and sweeps back her waist-length hair as if she's getting ready to walk a fashion show instead of have a clandestine meeting with her son.

Talia is a smaller woman, but she takes up space as if gravity bends around her. It could just be the air of grandness that surrounds her, the figurative crown she'd never claim as the matriarch of the Hale pack...Derek has never known her without it. Her hair is long and dark as it's always been and just beginning to go grey at the front, which to Derek makes her even more beautiful. Her face is strong and sharp just like Derek's and stunningly beautiful. 

“Where is my little Sugarpaws?” she asks, sweeping into the loft towards Eli and snatching him up from his bassinet. He instantly starts babbling animatedly in her arms as he smiles, relieved to be around the calmer energy, which Derek has not offered all day.

“Hello to you too mom,” Derek huffs as he closes the door with a sour tone and childish pout on his face. His mother has a way of making him act like a petulant teenager as if he somehow never left her house or grew into the man he is today. Is this how he'll make Eli feel one day?

Talia smirks at him, good naturedly and amused, “Come now, you had thirty-three years of attention, you can spare some for my very first grandchild,” She fusses over Eli for a few minutes enjoying how much he's grown since she saw him last.

“Hi son,” Talia crosses the room to hug him with a free arm, Eli balanced securely in the other. Derek sags into her embrace, her scent and her presence just as calming as it has always been. He might be a thirty three year old Alpha and single father, but he will always be a mama's boy (partily because she was at the end of the day his Alpha and his mother).

“Son did you get a maid?” Talia does a slow spin as she starts to notice the lack of clutter and even the lack of smell in the loft. Derek shakes his head with a wry smile.

“Remember the Omega I mentioned earlier on the phone? His name is Stiles, and he kind of cleaned the entire loft and helped me with Eli for the day, he was kind of a whirlwind in here. Imagine if Mary Poppins was a bossy twink with ADHD.”

Talia scoffs, “Not once since you took in Eli have you let me or your sisters help you with him or even clean your loft for you! You don't even let him stay at our house. And you let an Omega go through your home, alone? And watch your child? Derek, honey, I know you're swimming up stream right now, but this could have been so dangerous for both of you. And it's a little insulting you let a stranger help you before family,” concern drawing down her brows with a hint of hurt behind her eyes.

“It's not like that I promise. I was just at my wits end, I hadn't slept for days and Eli hadn't ate for days, and then there was Stiles. I knew he was a wolf when I rented out the loft and I just took a chance hoping he knew something, anything, that could help me with Eli. Turns out he worked with his pack's Emissary who was also a vet, he knows about our biology and how to handle pups form all his time there. He was like a blessing, a god send and he just smelled so...well...safe, I kind of knew I could trust him.” Derek says hesitantly a blush creeping up his neck as he realises he may have just embarrassed himself.

“Oh, so now you're thinking with your nose huh? What other appendages have you been thinking with when it comes to the strange wolf across the hall?”

“Mom!” Derek whines at his mother who is currently shaking her head at him. “Aren't you the one that taught me to use all my senses as an Alpha, to trust my gut before my reason?”

Talia smiles, “I did. But I also taught you pack above all else and caution as a way of life. Intuition does not always outweigh reason, especially with your home and family of all things. Letting an Omega get familiar so quickly, it's not safe. Do we even know why he's an Omega?”

“I know, really I do. I just can't explain it, he's good, really good and he's selfless too, like no one else I've ever met. Oh and he's smart on top of all that, like witty and quick. I think he might be running from something, he has this sadness but he hasn't really opened up about it yet or if that's why he's here. All of it is hard to put into words, how I trust him, but Me and Eli were in no danger from him...especially Eli he loved him.” Derek rambles as he paces back and forth in front of his mother.

“And he's attractive?” Talia asks with a salacious grin, catching Derek off guard.

"Very," Derek stumbles, barely managing to catch himself before falling flat on his face. He turns on his heel sputtering at his mother as he tries to recover.Some apex predator he is.

“I thought he might be,” Talia says knowingly with a self-satisfied smile. Derek growls at her earning him a firm un-amused look as her irises burn red at the insult. Derek's knees suddenly buckle, his mother's influence pressing down on him towards the floor. His own eyes burn red in return as he straightens up, rising through her influence with a wobbly ease.

“At least you haven't lost all sense of yourself. Nice to know you still have some Alpha sense in that head of yours,” Talia praises him as her eyes return to their warm brown. The tense moment passes between them, Eli breaks the following silence by filling his diaper quite loudly. Talia can't help but laugh sweetly. “Oh, my little Sugarpaws, that was a big one,” She moves to the changing table in the main hallway and makes quick work of Eli's mess.

“Are we quite done discussing Stiles...” Derek starts.

“The attractive Omega across the hall who has your head spinning?” Talia interrupts as she wipes down Eli.

“Mom!” Derek whines throwing his head back with a pouty huff.

“Go on I'm listening dear,” Talia smiles coyly as she turns back to finish dressing Eli.

“Ok, so Peter, there must be something to tell me if you felt the need to come talk to me in person. So who is he, this Peter Hale?” Derek watches as Talia subtly stiffens. She finishes changing Eli and hands him off to Derek as she sits in one of the accent chairs on either side of the couch. She's rigid but stately as she sits, clearly uncomfortable with what she's about to divulge.

Talia steeples her fingers in front of her face and lets out a long breath, “Peter Hale is my brother and your uncle.”

“He's my what now?” Derek asks, feeling that he must have misheard her. Trying to not upset Eli again with his raised voice.

“He is or was family, pack, and at one time my personal advisor, before you were born. Even Laura, being a few years older likely doesn't have any strong memories of him, maybe if she saw or smelled him. He was banished a year before your first birthday, made an example of, you have no memories.”

Derek frowns as he cradles Eli to his chest, “Banished, why would we banish pack, especially blood pack? That doesn't sound like something you'd do.”

Talia smiles ruefully, eyes distant with memories, “Peter was always a bit of wild card even when we were young. He toed the line of what could be considered appropriate and reckless, he had a tendency to follow his darker feral instincts, but never far enough to warrant any ill attention. He was rough, but good, he was my brother, I loved him dearly and there was no better choice as my advisor and second in command, he always had my back and he would protect the pack tooth and claw.” a single tear slides down Talia's cheek.

“There was a family of hunters at that time in Beacon Hills, the Argents, a father Gerard, and his two children Christopher and Katherine. We formed a tenuous agreement that as long as we caused no harm to humans and kept them informed of our numbers, there would be no blood shed. It was an irritation to be watched and monitored so closely, but for what it's worth Gerard kept his word and I kept mine, it was the daughter...Katherine or Kate as she was called that was the problem. She was a conniving, vicious thing even as a child and grew into a pit viper of a woman.”

Derek takes a seat on the couch as his mother continues her story, “She had caught wind of a Pack Summit that was to held in the Preserve, we would be hosting four packs from the West coast at our home.”

“I remember those,” Derek smiles, remembering the summits of his childhood, he and his sisters playing tag in the woods and eating ice creams by the lake with the other Alpha's children and the younger Betas.

Talia smiles, her watery eyes softer now, “and you have Peter to thank for that. You see Kate had used what little wiles her feeble body offered her, to seduce a small band of rubes...

“Rubes?” Derek questions.

Talia clucks her tongue searching for a word, “Hicks, or ah rough-necks. Men with guns, hungry for a purpose to use them that felt righteous and justified. She had revealed the nature of our family and stoked fear in them, fed their lusts, had them eating out of her palm. She played into the fears of their simple minds, provided weaponry and sex and that was all it took to have a small militia,” Talia draws a disgusted face but lets it pass quickly, “She had planned to, on the first night of the summit, trap us, kill us all and then burn the house down to hide the evidence. She had managed to create a very fool proof and elegant plan and would have murdered not just our family, but the leaders of all four packs along with a host of Betas, human partners and children, without a second thought. She may have been a stupid and desperate young woman, but she had the mind of killer well beyond her years.”

“Thankfully, as with most criminals, she thought she was smarter then she actually was and boastful as well, which played into our favor. Peter caught wind of her plans, how exactly I've never known, Peter had a way of discovering things and most times it was best not to inquire how. He managed to record her scheming and plotting, he knew he'd need evidence, then in the dark of night he stole away to a hotel she was staying in with some of her 'men' and murdered them in their sleep, eviscerating them so completely the coroner had to identify them by bones and teeth . Using her phone Peter tracked down as many members of her militia as he could in a single night and ripped them all apart leaving only blood and rended flesh in his wake, the rest scattered soon after hearing of their co-hort's fates, quickly abandoning their crusade and forgetting about the werewolves of Beacon Hills as best they could I imagine. Kate's decapitated head was left on Gerard's door step that night with the tape f her discussing her plans stuffed in her mouth, for him to discover in the morning.”

“So what was the problem?” Derek scoffs clearly non pulsed at the news. To him it didn't sound like Peter was the bad guy here, dangerous sure, but he was protecting the pack. Derek would likely do the same if presented with the same circumstances.

Talia held back a smile, “the issue was the other humans. Begrudgingly, Gerard could accept the fate of his daughter for her actions partially, but not the so called innocent men that died with her. An agreement was reached to avoid an all out war between us as both out families has violated he truce we signed. Peter was to be excommunicated, banished from the pack for his actions. The Argents decided to leave this town as well, soon after the funeral. They let Peter know if they ever saw him again they wouldn't think twice to take his life for what he had done to their daughter. And that was that. Peter was banished, he didn't fight it, we never spoke his name after that and erased every trace of him we had. I never knew of his fate, haven't even heard a single word of him until you said his name today.”

Derek furrows his brows, “How is that possible? You're privy to almost all wolf comings and goings on the West coast, how could you have missed another Hale?”

“I'm not sure to be honest. Perhaps with our name, no one questions him or feels a need to report a Hale to a Hale, they would likely assume he's pack and if he's managed to keep his muzzle clean this long there would be nothing to really know anywyas,” Talia leans back into the chair and smiles, “It is a small comfort to know that as an Omega he managed to climb to the rank of Alpha. Three Alphas in the family, is impressive by any standard or situation, your grandfather would have been so proud,” Talia gives Derek a watery smile.

“So what do we do with this information? Should I tell Stiles?” Derek asks leaning forward as Eli grips his fingers in his tiny fists.

“Absolutely not,” Talia bites back quickly, “you now share this burden with me. Peter has managed to stay safe and do as he has done for thirty two years because we let him be banished. It's harsh and possibly makes no sense but it is necessary for his safety and possibly for Stiles' as well. As an Alpha yourself now, I hope that you can understand, this isn't a secret we are keeping, to be banished from pack is a death. He may be your uncle but to you, he is but a ghost, you cannot treat him as a living relative or a fond memory. We cannot speak of it after today, no exceptions, is that understood?”

Derek nods curtly under his mother's imposing gaze, he knows the severity and the rarity of a banishment even if it makes his stomach twist.

He knows how unbelievably hard it must have been to not just banish a pack member, but also family. For over thirty years there hasn't even been a hint of him having an uncle or his mom having a brother. That was the burden he was taking on now, to be absolutely silent about him or any knowledge of him even from Stiles. Silently he hoped that one day he might get a chance to meet him, for as vicious and lethal as he sounded, he saved his entire family and accepted the consequences readily and still he made something of himself, an Alpha. In Derek's mind he was a hero.

Talia stayed for dinner and brought Derek up to speed on his baby sister Cora who had just moved back in with her after a break up with her last girlfriend. Their mother had always had a rule that none of them needed to ask to come home. Their rooms were theirs and the door was always open to them. Part of that was being pack, but part of it was just who Talia was as a mother. Derek was glad Cora felt safe being home. They talked about Laura's work and how she never seemed to slow down, her mother's daughter to the core.

“Maybe she'll meet a nice human man like dad,” Derek laughs, truly wishing Laura had something other than her work to fuel her. Once he understood her drive, but now with Eli, he knew how it felt to have a broader world view.

“They don't make them like my Teddy anymore,” Talia smiles, “I hope he's ready to retire soon. Seeing him ten days and on and ten days off is not how I want to spend the rest of our time together. I knew what I was getting when I mated with a park ranger, but I also thought he'd be ready to give it up by 55. It's not like we need the money, he just loves those damn redwoods.” They both laugh.

They finished dinner with a glass of whine, Talia feeds Eli his night time bottle and insists on putting him down for bed, barely able to drag herself away when he dozes off. As Derek walks her to the door she kisses his cheek and brushes back his hair lovingly taking his face in both of her hands.

“Remember son not a word to your new friend.”

Derek nods, his lips pressed into a straight tense line.

“And when you start to court him, I'd very much like to meet and assess him for myself,” Talia smiles almost too sweetly, amused as her son sputters and blushes again.

“He's not...I'm not...he's just a friend mom,” Derek manages to finally get out, stumbling over most of the words unconvincingly.

Talia strokes his cheek lovingly as she opens the door to leave, “Sure he is Moonpie, but for your sake I hope it doesn't stay that way. You and Eli both deserve someone good, that will stay. Just make sure to protect yourself, and I don't just mean condoms.”

"Goodbye mom," Derek deadpans with an eye roll.

And then she's gone with a final flip of her long dark hair, leaving Derek alone to ponder if there was a future with Stiles, what kind of person his Alpha uncle is now and what it would have been like to grow up with him in his life. He also silently curses his mother as he closes the door for still using his childhood nickname...stupid Moonpie. The he realises how close it is to what Stiles calls Eli without even knowing, Moonbeam, suddenly he didn't mind it so much and it felt like further evidence that somehow Stiles just fit. 

Chapter Text

Derek was doing his absolute best to stay calm and collected, really he was, it's not his fault that him and his wolf are both anxious.

It's just that Stiles has been pacing outside of his door for the last ten minutes and it feels like a fucking eternity, the soft pad of Stiles' feet back and forth on the concrete is maddening. Derek wants to slam open the door and pull him into a bear hug, but he's already scared him away once and can't risk it.

Even though the doors are mostly sound and scent proof he can smell the nervousness on Stiles too, brittle and airy like old wood in the draft that manages to find its way around the door jam just like the sound of his steps. Derek is currently holding Eli who also seems to sense Stiles nearby and babbles excitedly, kicking and cooing, dribble rolling down his chin.

  "I know buddy."

Derek is waiting, positively vibrating where he stands with, what? Excitement, nervousness, joy, trepidation? He's not sure, and he doesn't care enough to suss out exactly what the feeling is. He just needs Stiles to...

knock knock knock***

The third knock barely makes contact before Derek has the door slid open wide. There stands a very stunned looking Stiles, hand still midair, mouth agape in surprise. He's dressed in oversized, red plaid pajama bottoms, a very worn and thread bare Rolling Stones t-shirt, and Sherpa lined slippers. His hair is askew in the front from sleep and his skin still looks warm and rosy like he just woke up.

“Uhhh, I just woke up and you said, well y-you offered, the other day...before I left,” Stiles drops his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet, “breakfast?”. The last word was softer than the rest as if he was embarrassed or maybe afraid he'd been seen as a bother or a mooch for showing up like this. He couldn't be more wrong, yet still he shuffles in place not meeting Derek's almost awestruck gaze.

Derek promptly hands over a very excited Eli, pressing him into Stiles' arms without a word and turns towards the kitchen with a broad smile that he chooses to keep hidden, “Oh thank god I was never going to be able to finish all this bacon alone.” Derek promptly lays down the bacon he had sat aside into a skillet he had been pre-heating since he heard Stiles pacing with a satisfying sizzle.

Stiles works his mouth open and closed but says nothing as he steps inside, closes the door and adjusts Eli better in his arms, “Good morning little Moonbeam, did you miss me?” Stiles asks with a sleepy smile kissing the top of Eli's peach fuzz covered head, and breathing him in. His scent settles something in Stiles and that feeling of an invisible tether between them grows stronger.

“He did!” Derek calls out from the stove answering for his son. 'And he's not the only one' Derek thinks fondly but keeps it to himself. Derek opens the fridge with a large cermaic bowl in hand and cracks in six eggs single-handedly inside, “Eggs, scrambled or omelette?” he asks Stiles.

Stiles rounds the corner to the kitchen and leans in the door way cuddling Eli in his arms, “Uh...any chance over easy? It's OK if that's too much of a pain, that's just how I always had them when my Da...,” Stiles falters a second and Derek turns hearing his heart stutter as well, “how I always liked them.”

“I can do that,” Derek says softly pulling out two more eggs with a smile aimed at Stiles still looking sleep rumpled and soft holding his son as if he had woken up here and not across the hall. He doesn't know why but instead of returning his smile Stiles wears a small sad frown. It's brief, masked in a half a second, but it was there and Derek hates that he doesn't know why because Stiles smells so grateful. Like homemade jam on toast, so why did it make him sad.

Minutes later breakfast is ready and plated up. Crisp bacon, triangles of buttered toast, scrambled eggs for Derek and over easy for Stiles...with mustard?

“Mustard?” Derek asks watching Stiles cover the eggs in the tangy yellow sauce with a high raised brow and crooked smirk.

“Yeah,” Stiles pinks a bit, balancing Eli on his knee, “when I was little my mom always had her eggs over easy. I had to have everything the way that she did, I started drinking coffee at four because I copied her, but I hated the slimy innards of over easy eggs. So mom put mustard on mine to hide the goopy-ness and I loved it. I can barely eat eggs any other way now. You're not the first person to think it's weird, but humor me anyway,” there's another spike of sadness, “thank you Derek.” He adds softly, after a beat or slinence.

“It's just eggs,” Derek smiles, wishing he could reach over and crush the sadness out of him with his own two arms, but holds back, “I would have added gold foil if that's what you liked...but please don't like that right now...I'm fresh out.”

Stiles laughs and the sound makes Derek's stomach flip over with a smile, “Any other odd food combinations I should stock up for to keep our favourite guest happy?” Derek asks as he turns his attention back to his own plate.

Stiles smiles down at Eli now sucking down his bottled breakfast then back up at Derek, “Remember the other night when you made me steak?” Derek nods with a piece of bacon in his lips, “I really, really wanted ketchup with it. I know its sacrilegious, I almost never do it because most people think it's insulting, but I love it.”

“Ketchup? Really?”

Stiles shrugs with a kind of down turned smile, which is adorable and makes him look so small and soft to Derek, that he has to press down his wolf's urge to lick his face.

“I wish you would have said something to me that night,” Derek gets up from the table and opens his fridge with his broad back to Stiles. From the middle shelf he pulls out a 114 ounce tub of ketchup, the kind you see on food trucks, with a hand pump on top, “I fucking love ketchup I eat it with almost everything!”

Stiles turns his head, eyes going wide in amused shock, “You freak!” he teases as Derek replaces it, “Exactly how much ketchup do you use?”

“I buy one these about every two to three months. Guess that means you're going to have to have steak with me again sometime now that you know I have your preferred condiment. I'll go to the meat market on Sunday and get some prime rib-eyes for us and a bigger bottle of mustard for your breakfasts.” Derek smiles, wide and bright and it's not lost on him how Stiles stares for longer than necessary.

Stiles bites off a corner of toast, “You don't have to do that. I can't be over here eating all the time, especially big fancy steaks and stuff. You have a child to provide for,” Derek hears the kind refusal in his tone and decides to press on anyway.

“It's just steak, and I'm probably not even cooking it that well if we're honest, but what would you say if I requested that you come for dinner semi-regularly not just breakfast?” Derek tests, as he finishes off his eggs and takes up a piece of toast with a kind grin that softens his strong face.

“I would probably say no, but then ask why it's important for you to have me eat with you so often,” Stiles replies with a raised brow as he tilts his head toward Derek from across the table.

“Well, I like nice things,” Derek starts, “ and I have money. I'm not saying that to brag it's just a fact, but what I don't have is company, like I've said before. I'd really like it if maybe it could be a regular thing to not eat every meal alone. I like to cook, even if I'm not the best and you're always so much a help with Eli, it's not like you're not repaying me. Child care easily costs more than steaks and mustard, and friendly company is priceless.”

Stiles just sits for a minute, he doesn't speak just rubs at something under his shirt, right at the center of his chest, thumbing it lightly. Derek can see a chain glinting at the back of his neck, he gives him time, not mentioning it. Stiles looks down at Eli, “I do like getting to spend time with my little Moonbeam.” He sucks at his bottom lip chewing it as if debating something else internally.

“Ouch,” Derek grabs his chest dramatically with a wounded expression, stealing Stiles' attention, “That's a new one, someone using me to spend time with my baby.”

“Oh no, It's not like that. That's not what I meant. I mean...I do like spending time...It's...Shit. Derek no I'm not using you,” Stiles rambles so quickly that Derek is barely able to keep up with the manic babble that seems to spill out in a single breath.

He smiles calmly reaching over to rest a hand on Stiles' forearm, “I know, I know. That's not even a question for me. And even if it was true, Eli adores you, it would be cruel to keep you away at this point.” Stiles visibly relaxes and Eli chirps to speak his piece as well, “Besides maybe I don't mind as much if it's you.”

Stiles flushes lightly and stares with a nervous smile, “I don't know how to respond to that.”

“That's not a no is it? Does that mean I can stop eating all my meals alone? Or at least most of them?” Derek smiles leaning back in his chair satisfied, like a cat that swallowed the elusive canary always attached to it's stories. Stiles meets his eyes and he looks as if he is about to refuse again.

“Fine,” Stiles concedes, “I mean I do eat, but you have to let me clean or something around here to help you out more, I'm not a mooch.” Derek resists the urge to roll his eyes, Stiles isn't giving up so you know what...

“Why not? I'm not gonna say not to help in fact...why don't you clean our dishes now?” It's a challenge, meant to be playful, hoping for a laugh or an eye roll in return. Instead Stiles just replies with a small shrug, “OK.”

Derek watches as he manages to collect the plates and balance Eli as if he's done this every day of his life. Derek wants to snatch the plates or Eli and apologize for even joking about him cleaning but he's so impressed and Stiles moves with such an unbothered ease that all he can manage to do watch from his chair with a guilty frown.

“Is this supposed to be hard?” Stiles jabs at him with a sweet smile as he loads the dishwasher, scrapes the bacon grease into the trash and polishes the counters with a paper towel. Derek just stands and crosses the kitchen to take Eli from Stiles with a smile unsure of what he's supposed to say. Stiles just shoots him a cheeky smile, full of himself and enjoying the shocked silence from Derek. It suddenly feels like a game and Derek can't tell who's winning and who's losing.

Derek can't help but feel that flutter in his chest again, hearing his wolf at his neck ours ours ours. Derek shakes his head trying to quiet the beast threatening to rumble up to catch Stiles attention in a brand new way. “Ok, so hired,” Derek laughs bouncing Eli who giggles in agreement slapping his palms together.

“I don't accept. You couldn't afford me anyway,” Stiles teases throwing away a paper towel with a sassy flick of his wrist, his earlier nerves now replaced with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Wanna bet? Remember...loaded,” Derek smirks. Stiles losing his inflated posture rolling his eyes then a look crosses his face as he cuts his eyes into thin slits in Derek's direction.

“Exactly how loaded are we talking? Like George Lucas rich or Paris Hilton rich?”

Derek just shakes his head, “Probably closer to Hiltons, but not quite. Also those are two really wild point of reference, but let's just say I'm a very entitled wolf who has never had to worry about what my account balance is.” Derek feels like an ass just hinting at his families wealth. While he likes to joke about it from time to time, admitting to his families wealth is different, and just feels in poor taste no matter the situation.

Most wolves as a whole were somewhat nomadic by nature and need, it wasn't a common thing for packs or individual wolves to accrue wealth or to stay in one place for too long. The Hales have managed to do both for three generations, four now if we count Eli who will never have to worry himself and resides still in the borders in Beacon Hills. Derek, his mother and his grandfather all just happened to be born into the wealth and status of their name along with his sisters. They didn't earn it but they were bound to the burden of it and also the duty of being stewards Beacon Hills and the sacred druid site at it's center.

“Scrooge Mcfluff ,” Stiles chortles and Derek frowns at he name as he's pulled from his thoughts.

There's an awkward silence to follow.

“Did you have any plans for the rest of the day?” Derek finally asks walking towards the living room with Eli on his side. Stiles follows close behind nursing his coffee cup from breakfast. He shakes his head no in simple response.

“Then how would feel about taking Eli to the park with me? I haven't left this building in weeks, except for quick grocery runs and one visit to the doctor for Eli,” Eli kicks in Derek's arms reaching out for Stiles and that seems to seal the deal, making Derek wish Eli knew how to give a tiny fist bump for being an excellent wingman.

Stiles agrees and quickly runs back to his place to change into something decidedly less comfortable that the clothes that he slept in. Derek and Eli are waiting for him in the hall as he exits his loft and locks the door behind him. Eli babbles happily in a pram that without question Stiles takes from Derek as they walk to the lift and ride down together in companionable silence.

The three of them pile into Derek's sleek black Escalade and take the short drive over to the park located near the edge of down town. It's a sprawling green circle butted up against the edge of a small man made lake that hosts small boats and several families of ducks in the bright late morning sun soon to be overhead. It's a weekday and nearing noon so the park isn't crowded yet by any means as they exit the car.

Derek opens the trunk of the vehicle and grabs a black fitted cap and a pair of sunglasses and a small blue bucket hat that he presses onto Eli's head in the pram, he fusses at the unfamiliar item eyes glowing yellow as he attempt to rip it off. Stiles walks up from the front of the car letting him hold his finger which instantly calms him down. Derek smiles amused and wordlessly slaps a red cap on Stiles' head that just so happens to match the red tank top he changed into with his cut off jeans closes the hatch.

"Looks good on you," Derek notes with a sly grin that Stiles misses. His wolf's pleasure at smelling their scent on the other man sets off a wave of pleasure that ripples down Derek's spine, and if werewolves had tails, his would be wagging madly. 

"Thanks." 

Stiles adjusts the cap with a crooked smile and wheels the pram after Derek as he walks towards the stone path that leads through the trees. The three of them walk the woods in a comfortable silence before they start to round the side of the lake stopping to feed the ducks from the feed machines that take two quarters. Stiles holds Eli who giggles as the ducks draw close in a cluster as Derek feeds them, he squeals in delight as the gobble the grainy pellets from the water.

They begin  make their way back to the car, after walking the lake and taking time to feed the ducks three times to Eli's delight, then stopping to get hot dogs and shaved ice from a cart at the edge of the lake. Stiles snorts at the obscene amount of ketchup Derek uses on his hot dog. “Love ketchup,” Derek states proudly as he hinges his jaw and takes a large bite ending up with some of it on his cheek. 

Stiles reaches over with a napkin to dab the stained cheek, "How is it you're a messier eater than your own son?" He laughs.

"Because my meals aren't bottled," Derek retorts playfully snapping his teeth at Stiles' hand, making him jump. For a second their eyes lock and something passes between hot and not fully formed. Stiles pulls his hand back quickly and makes an effort to not look at Derek again as he eats. Derek takes note but stays quiet, leaning back on the bench they're settled on and finishing his dog. When he gets another dab of ketchup on his nose Stiles says nothing, but catches Derek shifting his tongue out of the corner of his eye to lick it off, he turns his head to the side to hide the laugh he's holding back.

After eating Derek takes their trash to a nearby receptacle and when he returns Stiles is letting small clumps of blue shaved ice melt on a spoon before and feeding them to Eli, whose lips and tiny tongue are now stained a purple-blue form the flavour simply labeled blue. He can't help but pull out his phone to snap a quick candid of the scene that makes his stomach flutter up into his throat. Stiles never notices as his full attention on Eli who happily gobbles up the cool treat.

*-*-*-

Back at the loft Derek and Stiles work in comfortable silence to make Eli a bottle and feed him a late lunch, reluctant to leave him they both fuss over him as they put him down for an evening nap. Tuckered out from the exciting day he's asleep as soon as he hits his mattress pad his tiny fingers unable to sustain the death grip he had places on Stiles' finger.

“I wish I knew what it was like to feel that safe and secure again,” Stiles whispers fiddling with whatever hangs from the silver chain around his neck under his shirt. The sour scent of sadness rises off of him. His eyes rim with tears but he manages to blink them away.

“You don't feel safe here?” Derek asks softly, placing a hand on the middle of his back. They stand silent next to each other for minutes looking over Eli's sleeping form.

“Stiles are you in trouble? Are you running from someone? You can tell me, I'll fight tooth and claw to keep you safe here,” Derek says calm and resolute, his wolf rising to agree with him as his eyes faintly glow red in the dimly lit room.

“No, I'm not in trouble, and no one is coming for me, not like in a bad way anyways, and no one knows I'm here,” Stiles answers with a neutral tone.

“Ok, well when you're here with me and when you're across the hall you're safe I assure you, I promise you,” Stiles turns to Derek with watery eyes hugging himself by the shoulders.

“Thanks," Stiles accepts the promise and the look of fierce protectiveness in Derek's eyes.

The two wolves, quietly exit the nursery and return to the living room to relax on the couch, the sour scent of sadness still over Stiles like a dark cloud and Derek is determined to erase it. Derek turns on the TV and hands the remote over to Stiles, letting their fingers brush briefly, before Stiles scrolls to Hulu and puts on a Marvel movie. “Superheros?” Derek asks amused.

“Always,” Stiles replies with an easy grin that makes Derek's heart heart skip a beat, “the real world is hard and sad, and the good guys don't always get a happy ending. It's nice to world ending problems be solved in a few hours. Plus the hot guys in form fitting outfits doesn't hurt.” Stiles makes a show of flexing, imitating a tough guy smirk that makes them both break out in genuine laughter. 

Derek relaxes more letting his leg fall into Stiles' who he doesn't move, just simply looks down at their touching knees then back to the movie. Derek gently places a hand on Stiles' bare knee at the hem of his shorts, “I'm sorry.” Derek doesn't know what exactly he's apologising for or why he even felt drawn to say it, but Stiles smiles taking comfort from it as if it was the perfect thing to say.

The younger man tentatively places his hand atop Derek's, its smaller, thinner and paler, “Thank you.” Derek smiles so hard, looking down at their layered hands, it makes his cheeks ache but he couldn't care less. For the rest of the movie they sit like this barely moving, a warm comfort growing between them, as they let their thighs gently press and Stiles eventually braids his fingers into Derek's.

A lull in the action on the screen happens and Derek turns to Stiles with a soft look in his hazel green eyes. Anticipating a question Stiles turns his head to mirror Derek's and watches in slow motion as Derek leans his upper body towards him. Derek smells a faint spike of arousal as he confidently moves a hand towards the back of Stiles' head. He closes his eyes, parts his lips feeling the ghost of Stiles' warm breath on his nose and lips then he...

“What are you doing!?” Stiles is up and across the room at supernatural speed panting heavy, with wild eyes and an erratic heart beat. It's clear that he's upset, but he also seems down right terrified.

“I was-I thought that...” Derek stammers standing up as well.

“No.” Stiles tone is flat, his face is paler than normal if that's possible.

“Sorry I thought that we we're having a moment, that you liked me, I mean I smelled it on you. Did I do something wrong? Did I misunderstand what's happening with us?” Derek asks crestfallen but managing to remain calm, his voice soft and non aggressive. Hoping he can diffuse the tension pouring off of Stiles a few feet away.

“Yes. No. I don't Know,” Stiles grabs at the item around his neck, his eyes darting around wildly to avoid looking directly at Derek now, “I did. I was the one in the wrong I got too close. I let myself feel-Derek I can't do this, can't, shouldn't, no. You're a gorgeous wolf and you're kind and selfless and you're such a good dad and I fucking love your kid, so much, but we can't-I can't.”

Derek inches closer and raises his hands slowly, “You didn't do anything wrong Stiles. I wanted to get close to you, I promise it was me. I was too forward, I should have said something. It's just-I really like you Stiles. I'd like to be your friend, maybe more, but only if you want that too. I don't wanna pressure you.”

Stiles starts to cry, “Well I don't, I can't. OK?” he backs towards the corner of the room shrinking in on himself as if he's desperate to get away or disappear.

Derek steps closer kneeling down to his level making sure to appear as non threatening as he can even though his size is still imposing, “You keep saying can't, Stiles I know you said you weren't in trouble but did you leave trouble? Is or was someone abusing you? Threatening you from a distance?”

Stiles laughs bitterly looking a little maniacal as his head falls back.

“Can you explain it to me? Will you?” Derek asks kindly, trying to not pressure him but letting him know he's invested and listening, willing to share his burden. He's taken aback as Stiles lunges at him, eyes glowing yellow as his wolf rises.

“Because I'm in love with someone already! Are you happy now? Is that what you waned to hear Derek?,” he pulls the necklace chain from under his shirt, on its end is a ring, glinting in the light, “I'm in love with a dead man. A man that I killed! ”

Derek falters unsure how to move or what to do, Stiles is a foot away seething with anger and radiating a sadness that nearly chokes him, “Killed a man? Your lover?” Derek asks confused and desperate to understand what he's unleashed in the other man.

“Yes,” Stiles eyes fade back to brown as he shrinks again, making himself smaller as his rage seems to evaporate in an instant, “Yes. His name was Danny, a beautiful human man. Soft, smart, kind, wholly good. He was absolutley everything to me. We had been together since High School, built a life with each other, made a home. He even considered taking the bite so we could try for kids, because he knew I wanted it. He was it for me”

“And you killed him?” Derek asks entirely disbelieving that Stiles could have killed someone he cared about.

“Yep,” Stiles' tears come harder and faster now he stands unsteadily swaying to the side, “He was meeting me for dinner across town. He had made this big deal about it, didn't know why. My dad was there to meet his parents for the first time, they had came from Hawaii and everything. Everyone was there with me but him, I was so nervous I don't do well when I get stressed. He was late, so I called to yell at him for making me be there without him it was so awkward they all kept looking at me and smiling, I had no fucking idea why. Then it happened....I heard it happen.”

Stiles drops to his knees with a harsh *thud holding his necklace close to his heart, Derek scoots a little closer, wanting to comfort him but doesn't touch him, “You heard what Stiles?”

“The car. The car caving in around him. The sound of metal on metal. The sound of his neck snapping, the gurgle of blood in his throat as he took his last breath. I killed him Derek.”

“There was an accident?” Derek asks softly, the picture of what happened becoming clearer now.

Stiles nods, “But the call isn't how I killed him it's just what I have nightmares about. I h-had to g-go ident-tify, to s-see the bo-ody. There were p-personal effects, just a bag, it seemed so meaningless. I took it home and threw it on the b-bed and this box kind of r-rolled out...this was in it,” Stiles holds out the ring to show Derek.

Derek looks confused for a second. He reaches for Stiles to place a hand on his shoulder wanting to comfort him so bad. Stiles jerks away, making Derek's heart seize in his chest.

“No, don't you get it? He was on his way to fucking propose, that's why everyone was there staring at me. Why he was late. Why he's fucking dead,” Stiles wails and his voice ends in a howl that rattles Derek's teeth and bones, “loving me was lethal! I'm a bane and a poison! I was stupid enough to let myself believe I deserved it, deserved him, deserved to be loved and I fucking killed the man that was willing to give up his humanity for me. I'm a fucking murderer! A monster!”

“Stiles that wasn't your fault, that's not-you didn't kill Danny Stiles.”

Stiles lunges at him snapping his teeth, claws extended, “Then who the fuck did, huh? He was on the road for me, he took that call for me, he was coming to propose to me. I may not have killed him with my hands or my claws, or my teeth, but I did kill him. With my love. Loving me killed him in the end.”

Derek falls back on his hands from his crouched position, as Stiles rushes past him to leave. Quickly Derek rises to stop him, placing his body between him and the door, Stiles slaps him with an open palm, stunning him.

“LEAVE ME ALONE! Better yet forget me,” Eli starts to cry in his room from the noise that's finally reached him. Stiles pauses for a second looking stricken as he turns his head in the direction of the nursery, “tell Eli to forget me too, tell him I-I lov-no just let him forget me OK? We're done. Whatever this was between us, the food, the company, the kindness...let it die, before it kills you too. I wont be back.”

Stiles rushes out the door and slams it shut behind him, knocking  photos off the wall with the unexpected force of it

He'sgoneHe'sgoneHe'sgone Derek's wolf hisses at his neck, circling his chest in an anxious, “He's gone...”

All that was left of Stiles was a kaleidoscope of unpleasant scents...sorrow, despair, disappointment, and strongest of all grief. The scents coalescing into a scent not unlike a dead body, rotten and bloated conjuring up mental images of Stiles' dead lover and how he must have mourned.

Derek promptly vomits at the sheer strength of the smell and wipes his mouth with his hand, trying to banish those images from his mind. Eli screams trilling like a primitive alarm and snaps Derek out of his head space, he dashes down the hall to go get his son, tears in his eyes, not from the sick, but the loss of something he barely had.

How could he ever explain this to his infant son? And was there any way to go back?

Chapter Text

Three days ticked painfully by with no sight, sound or scent of Stiles, just like the first time he ran out that door. Derek tense and agitated has nearly worn grooves into the concrete floor of the hallway between their apartment doors, endlessly pacing, back and forth, back and forth, for the past two days. He finds himself struggling to not fall back into his bad habits, trying to make sure he washed of his stress filled sweat so he didn't become a big smelly wolf again. He tired to make sure to just be present for Eli in general, sometimes holding him while paced or feeding him while leaning against his own door frame like a paternal sentinel.

It wasn't fair of him, he knew that, to be so distracted from his duties, but somehow Eli seemed to understand on some instinctual level and made little fuss as Derek struggled the last three days. He was calmer than he had ever been since Derek had taken him in, maybe he was a little sad himself, Derek couldn't help but notice that he wasn't just calmer he was despondent not making much noise of any kind, likely missing Stile's presence as well. The bond they had formed made Derek all the more desperate to see Stiles, talk to him, make up to him. He wasn't the only one hurting.

On day four Derek works up the nerve, or possibly succumbs to his mania to knock on the door of Stile's loft. To be fair he hadn't slept since the night that Stiles had left except for the few time he fell asleep rocking Eli only to startle himself awake at some small noise in the loft.

There's no answer.

Derek knocks again, louder and more firmly, an edge of desperation in the motion that he was sure translated through the high steel door. Still nothing. He leans in to press his ear to door itself closing his eyes to focus and stretch out his senses. There's soft sounds from inside, movement of some kind, but not footsteps or the sound of TV or anything familiar. Stretching his senses further he catches the scent of something foul from the draft under the door. It makes his stomach twist as he covers his nose and backs away grimacing.

“What the actual fuck?” Derek bangs on the door rattling the door in its track from the force of his fists on the bare metal. “Stiles, Stiles answer me!”

No answer.

Derek steps back and prepares to tear down the offending steel barricade, his claws already bared in preparation. Then through some miraculous force, a voice of reason reminds him he's the landlord and has a key to every door in this building. Resolutely, he storms across the hall, making sure to check quickly that Eli is still asleep and safely in his crib, then grabs his key ring and rushes back to the door inserting the key quickly.

The lock clicks as he turns the handle and he slides opens the door, then he nearly wretches on the spot from the smell coming from inside the dark loft. The stale air reeks of sweat, bile and urine, like a festival toilet left to bake for too long in the sun. Derek steels himself and his stomach, breathes through his mouth and steps inside.

The loft is dark, not lights of any kind turned on, but Derek's eyes instantly adjust as he crosses the threshold. He turns his head side to side confused by what he sees, or more so by what he doesn't see in the apartment. Stiles had been there nearly four months now, but the apartment is bare...almost completely bare, not a piece of furniture or appliance in sight except the ones provided. The walls are barren as well, and there's no lights, or lamps or even candles on the counter, just what little light manages to filter in through the dirty windows. He stalks past the kitchen island towards the source of the rancid smell and stops dead in his tracks as he rounds the corner.

There, on the floor of the living room is Stiles, or what he assumes to be Stiles. He's laid out on top of a filth soaked sleeping bag and a mess of worn faded blankets and towels, pale and motionless atop the mess. He dressed in the same clothes from the night he stormed out, likely having never changed them with a puddle of sick near his head, urine and Stiles' mess soaked through his pants and trailing down his bare legs from under his shorts.

Instantly Derek is on his knees at Stiles' side, he scans him first, his eyes glowing red in the dark room before he leans down to scent along his neck. He's uninjured and as far as Derek can tell not sick, at least not physically ill. Derek turns Stiles' face to his with a gentle hand, his mouth is slack and his eyes are both half-open and unblinking, dull and unfocused. He's completely catatonic and under the scent of his filth is the unmistakable scent of misery and depression, cold and empty like a damp basement much like the state of his loft.

Derek cradles Stiles' head on his lap as he slowly pieces together the events that all felt unconnected at first. Stile's worn and threadbare clothes that never seemed like they fit quite right, Derek had thought maybe he was just quirky and liked second clothes with character he had thought it was kind of cute even though he never said it. His unwillingness to eat too much or take food despite Derek being able to hear and see just how famished he was suddenly made sense too, there was no food here and nothing he could see to cook with but a bare stove. Derek had always been bothered by the thin and sunken appearance of Stiles, like his features were a bit too sharp and gaunt, he had never pointed it out unsure if it could be an insecurity, now he wishes he had maybe pried. Most of all Stiles' mood, raw and vulnerable made so much more sense now, from what Derek had learned that night he left and what he was seeing now. Stiles has been suffering in silence, likely from the moment he had arrived here and his outburst a few nights ago had likely triggered a mental break for him. Derek had missed every sign that he was drowning in grief and depression. 

Derek hated himself for being more worried about a budding attraction than to Stiles' state of mind since he'd been here. He should have reached out sooner, even before the Eli situation, he wasn't pack but he was a wolf and wolves stick together, especially when that wolf is as special as Stiles.

Not having to think a second longer Derek hefts Stiles up into his arms with ease, Stiles doesn't stir, still as a corpse in his arms. He's even lighter and smaller than he visually appeared to be, which makes Derek's stomach twist in an ugly knot, a man this size shouldn't be so thin and light. He ignores the various wet spots forming along his own clothes from Stile's damp body is pressed to him, trying hard to not breathe too deeply as he holds him securely. Derek exits the apartment and shifting Stiles into one arm for a second, locks the door and turns to open his own, walking them both inside.

Derek fishes his cell phone blindly from his back pocket and calls Cora without hesitation. She asks no questions after he asks her to come over, giving her a quick run down as to whats happening. She immediately heads out after ending the call with her big brother, more than willing to come watch Eli while Derek tries to hold himself together. He sets his phone down on the kitchen counter and checks on a sleeping Eli one more time before he walks Stiles into the bathroom. He steps into the shower with him and turns on the warm spray as he sits down with Stiles' pliant body in his lap. Stiles doesn't even flinch as the water cascades over his still form.

Derek gently peels off Stiles' soiled clothing a piece at a time, until he's left in just his briefs and the silver chain that holds the infamous engagement ring, making sure to not let him drop from his lap or bash his head on the tiles, as Derek is the only thing supporting his body. He hesitates, his hands shaking, when he reaches his underwear. It feels improper maybe even a violation of his autonomy to expose Stiles like this especially with both of them aware of Derek's attraction to him. He ponders, torn, before with delicate hands he peels off the ruined garment with an upturned nose doing his best to look away and still be careful.

“Stiles. I don't know how aware you are in there but I need to wash you, all of you. I don't know how long you've been sitting in your own waste, but it could cause more issues if we don't get you cleaned up. I'm going to need to wash you and your private areas, so please forgive me, I just need to know that you are OK,” Derek talks to Stiles softly like he does Eli when he's explaining things to him that he has no hope of understanding, it eases his guilt enough to let his hands still.

“Mark him with our scent. Ours!” Derek's inner wolf is nearly singing in the back of his mind pressing down on his resolve to abandon all propriety and claim the man in his arms. Derek closes his eyes and takes a deep breath steeling his resolve, and ignoring the siren song of his wolf as the damp briefs slip over Stiles' slender ankles.

Derek reaches for a bar of soap and lathers up a soft rag before he begins to wipe away the dirt and grime from Stiles' face first, then behind his ears and down his long freckled neck. It's harder than it looks even with the lighter man, to both support him and maneuver his body while washing it thoroughly, but he manages. He moves slowly and carefully, with all the care in the world as he soaps up, gently scrubs and then rinses Stiles' body one section at time. He decides to skip his groin for now as he attempts to figure out a way to wash his legs and feet without laying him flat on the cold floor of the shower.

He ends up sitting him on the shower bench at an angle so he's reclined against the wall. He ends up sagging more so than reclining but it gives Derek a way to wash his legs efficiently without becoming a contortionist to accomplish it. Once he's done he pulls Stiles back to sit on his lap like before and is then faced with the areas hes avoided as long as he could. Possibly the most offending areas, Stile's ass and his dick, having set in mess for an undetermined amount of time both are saturated acrid layers of scent and mud like grime. Obviously the most intimate of areas, Derek struggles with how he should go about this, so as not to be improper even though Stiles will likely have no memory of this ever happening.

He settles for treating him and thinking of his body as if he were Eli, there's nothing strange or unbecoming when he cleans his son in those same areas, so it shouldn't be now (right?). With an unsteady resolve and even unsteadier hands, he soaps the rag again and gently glides it along the creases of Stile's thighs, then under his balls and around the base of his penis. He tries to not look directly at what he's doing, to remain clinical and impersonal, but them his breath catches when he works the rag through the untamed mess of sandy hair that crowns Stiles' cock and then tenderly along it's length. It's heavier and in general just larger than Derek ever could have expected for someone his size, he screws his eyes tightly forcing himself to not get a better look despite how badly he wants to in the back of of his mind. He thinks of Eli and his Mother and his sister on her way over to help him, anything to calm his racing mind and the thoughts that make him feel like he's already crossed a line. 

Derek breathes in calm and deeply through his nose, water dripping form it's tip, he feels like he is managing this well, cleaning the man that his inner wolf begs hi to claim without it becoming anything more than that. He can do this, this is OK, it was necessary to get hm clean and it was better that someone that knew him do it...right?

Then he feels it happening, “Oh, Shit no,” Stiles is beginning to get hard in his palm. Derek attempts to speed up the process to be done with it as fast as possible, but as he does the extra motion causes it to expand more, nearing full mast. Derek can't not look at the half hard dick as it fills out in his cloth covered palm wobbling side to side unsteadily much like Derek's hold on himself. Unconscious or not Stiles' arousal smells the same, his body triggered by the gentle touch of Derek's hand, and it's soul rending to resist it scent, this close.

Trying to get this over with even more quickly, before he loses the battle with his wolf and his hormones, Derek takes the soap and rag and the quickly lathers the cleft of Stiles' ass to wash it out and be done with this entire situation. In his haste to be quick the rag slips from his fingers and he grazes his bare hand along the supple flesh between his pale cheeks, feeling the tense circle of muscle graze over the pads of his fingers. Derek's eyes instantly bleed red, the muscles in arm twisting under his skin as he restrains it from repeating the motion, or pressing into the tempting orifice.

“Ours. Mate. Feel!” his wolf howls inside shaking with want, the need to claim. Before he's even aware of what he's doing he brings his hand to nose and inhales his damp soapy fingers. Even under the layers of the oatmeal soap hes using is the scent of Stile's musk and pheromones. Derek's fangs drop filling his mouth, which is  suddenly too wet, too full of saliva as he slobbers around his canines his lips attempting to curl over them.

“No!” Derek rises abruptly shaking his head to clear it, his fangs retract as he shuts off the shower roughly, bending the copper valve at an odd angle from the brute force he didn't intend to use, “Sorrysorrysorry.” he chants over Stiles as he steps out of the stall sending water rippling across the floor as his cascades down their bodies. Holding Stiles' naked body over his shoulder, his own wet clothes plastered to his body, Derek takes deep grounding breaths to calm himself. He grabs a towel from the nearby rack and cradles Stiles to his heaving chest as he dries him with all the care and tenderness he deserves ensuring to avoid all the tender areas that will have to drip dry to avoid another fracture to his control. He struggles to take a calm and measured breaths, also pressing down the growing feeling of possession growing just under his throat as he supports Stiles' naked body.

Ours, protect, keep, his wolf urges him, doing nothing to abate the growing sense of possession he undeservedly feels towards the smaller man.

Derek sloshes out of the bathroom, his wet jeans slapping the ground with each step leaving behind small puddles just as Cora opens the front door. She stands there with a funny kind of smile taking in Derek drenched while still fully dressed with a pale naked man wrapped in a towel over his shoulder, his bare ass resting next to his head facing her. Derek moves to cover it from her view, but them removes his had as if burned when his palm grazes of the round of Stiles' ass feeling the resistance of it.

“So that's the one?” Cora asks with an arched brow and a low level of amusement evident in her tone.

“Yeah,” Derek replies. An anxious kind of chuckle that doesn't form correctly escaping him as he exhales.

Cora presses her lips in a line and nods, not feeling the need to say anything more for now, “OK then. I got the runt, You take care of dimples there.” He waves he hand dismissively in their direction.

"How did you know he has dimples? You haven't even seen him," Derek questions her knowledge even though Stiles does in fact have a cute set of dimples. 

"I didn't mean the ones on his face Bro," Cora huffs, as if to say that her brother couldn't possibly be this stupid, motions towards the pale bare ass next to his head.

"Oh God gross," Derek does his best to wrench the towel down enough to cover Stiles' bare backside, "don't check out his ass, he's unconscious. Also gross, don't call me bro."

"Don't act like you didn't aim it right at me when I walked in door, where the hell else was I supposed to look it's literally next to your big dumb head."

Derek frowns.

"You know it's still OK to laugh even though this situations sucks right?" Cora asks, her face softening.

"Yeah, just now right now, not for me."

"OK."

Derek lets out a deep breath with Stiles still slung over his shoulder and turns to walk up the stairs with sloshing water with every step. Cora had always been outspoken and lived for getting Derek wound up whenever she could, but thankfully she's also always known when to back off too. Not today, but soon, he knows she's going to have a lot of questions. He's sure from the brief panicked call that she's already somewhat aware that Stiles is special to him, more so than just a sick tenant in need of help. She also knows that Derek never asks for help, more likely to cut off his own hand than to admit that he needs one, so it's not lost on her that this is a big deal, he's sure of it. She's also fully aware that wolves strive to avoid hospitals as much as they can and didn't ask a single question when he explained that Stiles was unwell.

Derek pulls back his bed sheets, and lays Stiles down on his side as softly as he can tucking him with a tender care that belies his true feelings for smaller man before him, making sure the necklace with his engagement ring is secured around his neck. Derek's bed is a large circular mattress on a platform and fills up almost the entirety of the room, leaving just enough room to maneuver around it to clean and access the closets and dressers in the rooms. It's piled up with plush throws and blankets in various earthy tones, and topped with pillows of all sizes and shapes. He takes the time to settle Stiles in his nest of a bed, just as he himself likes to sleep, pulling the various blankets around him and placing a large pillow in his arms to hold. He uses two gentle fingers to fully slide Stiles' eyelids shut, which slowly slide back open in spite of him. On the third attempt they stay and a soft breathy sound falls from his lips that cuts through the dark and stirs a softness deep in Derek's core. His eyes illuminate red in the dark, casting a crimson glow over his cheeks and down the bridge of his nose as he looks down over Stiles.

He browses intently over Stiles, now appearing to simply be asleep soundly and not stuck in his traumatized state so deep he wont or can't even move. The soft feeling in his chest grows deeper until it ignites at the sight before him. “In our den. Wearing our scent. Ours!” Derek and his wolf inhale the scent of Stiles in this room, surrounded by his own, surrounded by his things, washed in his soap. he possessiveness he felt earlier returns tenfold bringing with it lust from the shower accident as well. Derek's cock is suddenly rigid and straining, dragging against the weight of his wet clothes as he and his wolf heat up in unison, purring quietly. He palms himself, wrapping a hand around his length wrapped in layers of cold wet cotton as he leans over Stiles. His purr becomes a soft protective growl rumbling just at the back of his throat as he fill his lungs with the combined scent of Stiles himself and his own bedding once more.

"ours, Ours, OURS. OURS!!!" his wolf becomes more insistent that the boy is theirs.

“Fuck!” Derek cusses coming back to himself momentarily, reigning himself in enough to dart from the room at supernatural speed and down the stairs. Cora currently toweling away the wet tracks made by Derek the first time he slopped up the stairs in his wet clothes carrying Stiles cusses as he dashes by flinging water into her face once again from his wet clothes and the speed hes moving at causing her to fall backwards on her ass.

“Dammit Derek, you big dumb asshole,” she yells, her eyes flashing gold, but Derek doesn't care, doesn't have the time or the mental spoons to. He enters the still steamy bathroom and slams the door behind him shaking the frame with the force of it.

Like a cheesy scene from a b rated creature flick Derek falls towards the counter groaning as his wolf surges up, his muscles ripple under his skin as he shifts, claws popping, digging short, deep grooves into the marble as he curls his fingers into fists on it's ledge. His fangs drop and his brow flattens in unison as the tips of his ears pull up to sharp points next to his head. He throws his neck back growling at his reflection and his red eyes in the mirror, watching the bridge of his nose broaden and dark hair sprout along his hairline and jaw, as it thickens the rest of his natural body hair under his wet clothes still plastered to his new form.

Derek rips at his wet clothes as his corded muscles expand, pressing his skin taught until he's fully naked, only tatters of what used to be hit favorite jeans hanging from his body. He catches sight of his shifted self in his reflection, half hidden in the fogged mirror he looks absolutely feral as slobber drips from his curled lips. His core vibrates with each breath, seething not with the rage which he's accustomed to when he loses control of his wolf but with lust.

Derek slams into the shower stall somehow managing to not break it entirely, and turns on the spray with the blue valve marked for cold water all the way open as he leans, chest heaving, into the tiles. He hisses as the icy water sluices over his heated skin and slicks his fur to his body, but accepts it quickly as it clears his head momentarily. 'I'm such a dumb horny asshole.'

Derek wipes his hair back from his brow to clear his face but purrs low in his throat as he catches the scent of Stiles' musk still covering his hand. His cock, which he had dutifully been ignoring until right now throbs painfully, the beginnings of a knot ballooning at the base as it pulls back his foreskin with a tight unpleasant pressure. He he looks down at himself swollen and red and sobs, so aroused it's painful, and he shouldn't be at all, he's better than this, better than his baser instincts. However he's unaccustomed to this situation, the scent of a potential mate is nothing like the scent of an everyday lover. It's like a chord at the center of his being plucked over and over by an invisible hand with every touch, scent and sight of them. He can choose to fight it or not, but it's still there, and since he never had a chance discuss how he felt in any great length to Stiles about his feelings, it all feels one-sided both which is maddening.

Derek is usually so reserved, so dutiful and stoic and in full control of his wolf, but not since Stiles walked into his life. His wolf, which like any other voices his baser instinctual thoughts, has been so much more demanding and tempting, fully at odds with how he wants to present himself. Ever representing the younger generation of Hale pack as his mother's only Alpha child, he just carries himself differently, has to but tonight he gives in. Unable to fight his wolf and continue to deny himself he palms his cock, gripping it tightly in a clawed fist. He gnashes his teeth in the air, water dripping off his stubbled chin and over his dropped brow as he strokes himself fervently under the icy spray of the shower. The further he gives in, the more him and his wolf work as a single entity, the more he catches the lingering hints of Stiles' scent in the shower itself, the bits too strong to be washed away. Even the traces of his filth in the clothes thrown to the back of the shower draw him in as he reaches for them catching an article with his claws.

The smells that were repulsive to his human side a few hours ago, threatening to make him sick now make his blood burn hotter in his veins and his cock as he drags the ruined clothes over his face and lips pressing the smells into his skin. Derek strokes himself harder feeling his knot swell larger beneath his fist as he inhales every trace of Stiles he can find, gnashing his fangs in pleasure as the bottom of his fist batters the top of his knot, over and over. Derek crouches to drag his rough tongue over the shower bench where Stiles sat, whining in the back of his throat as he catches the hint of Salt from Stiles' skin tastes the remnants of mess that Stiles ass left behind. He digs a clawed hand into the tiles to hold himself upright as he pumps more furiously, his knees digging into the cold stone floor aching yet not enough to make him stand. Derek pulls his head back his eyes rolling into his skull as he does, bares his fangs and roars, shaking the tiles, as he spills out, splattering hard against the glass of the shower door a few feet away as his cock pulses raw and red in his hand.

Derek arches his back convulsing as he's caught in a full body orgasm, every splat his release on the glass ringing out like a fist slamming into a door in his enhanced ears. He breathes sharply through gritted teeth as the shift slowly fades, his cock softening as it drools in his grip, the mess being washed clean by the cold water raining around him. Derek lets go of all the stored tension in his body letting his muscles go lax and soft which causes him to fall gracelessly to his side on the shower floor. He let's himself lay there, the cold water coming down on his overstimulated flesh like tiny bullets as his high fades his aroused frency washing down the drain with his load as he squeezes out the last of it and finally drops his hand to the tiles as well.

“ Shit, shit, shit!” he cusses at himself sitting up and shaking his hair out. He's far too old to be having these type of control issues, it's embarrassing, immature and creepy, even more so as an Alpha, especially when it's all over someone he cares for, someone who very clearly rejected his advances. This is what teenagers do, what perverts do. It's the reason teenage wolves are given Valerian root and Chasteberry to suppress their sex drives to a more manageable level so that their minds arent entirely beaten down by want and instinct. He's unsure how packs dealt with it before the Druids gave them the knowledge of the herbs to stave it off and manage it, or the reason there wasn't a more modern solution for it either. He definitely didn't want to start that regimen again, the mixture tasted like dirty socks and smelled like feet and no matter what you take it with the taste sticks to your tongue and haunts your sinuses for hours.

Derek eventually stops beating himself up. He turns of the shower pulls himself up off of the floor and exits the bathroom in a robe he keeps on the hook behind the door, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Cora eyes him in a mixture of annoyance and amusement as he sheepishly steps out, “So you called me over here for pup duty so you can give your boyfriend a bath, kiss him goodnight and pop your red rocket in the shower?”

“Please don't call it that,” Derek grimaces as the drags a hand down his face trying to groan at her like teenager.

“OK. What do you prefer your lipstick?” Cora teases meanly, earning her that immature groan that seems to satisfy her greatly as she finishes mopping up the last of the wet footprints and stands to her own feet.

“I'm not even gonna answer that and it's not like that Cor, and he's not my boyfriend,” Derek sighs as he leans against the door-frame of the bathroom with a distant, sour look in his down cast eyes.

“I know,” Cora says uncharacteristically soft, “but you want him to be, don't you?”

Derek's breath catches, his head snapping to the side to meet Cora's eyes. She's giving him a bittersweet kind of smile that carries a thousands and one meanings that he understands in an instant.

“I do, God I do, but that's not what he needs right now. Plus he turned me down. I tried to kiss him before...before all of this. I can't even think that way right now...I mean shit, I just lost control Cor,” Derek thumbs at his eyes trying to avoid tears, “ Hey you OK? I'm need to go watch over him, do you ne-

“Just go,” Cora smirks shooing him towards the stairs with a small hand, “Me and Eli will be fine, just go and be what he needs right now OK. You're not a bad person for wanting him and you're not a total creep for losing your self control. I smelled the compatibility, you're not crazy. Maybe he just needs time, not now doesn't always mean not ever. And Derek...”

“Yeah sis?” Derek turns around on the second step to look down at her perched on the arm of the couch, looking at him with a sweet mischievous smile just like when they were kids.

“Try to not be Mr. Creeper Wolf with him, you're kind of a charming ass when you keep it together. So keep it together, for him.”

“I'm gonna try like hell Cor. Something is special about him, I need him in my life and in Eli's, in whatever capacity he allows. I want him to be there.”

Cora gives him that bittersweet smile again, “Go on then, keep watch over him.”

Derek smiles back at his baby sister and turns to climb the remaining stairs and enters his room. His eyes adjust to find Stiles, unmoved in his bed. His heartbeat is steady but Derek cannot tell if that means he is truly asleep or still just catatonic, he's not sure if the difference would even be apparent to him. Derek quietly walks into his closet and dresses in a soft pair of grey shorts and black shirt with the sleeves cut off before pulling on a pair of white socks. He pulls a small ottoman to the side of his bed and sits down with a sigh next to Stiles' prone body.

Derek gently takes up Stiles' right hand into his own. It's warm and pliant but strange at the same time, should he even touch him, would Stiles be upset?. Stiles' catatonic state unnerves Derek and his wolf, makes him question not just himself, but everything he's doing, hoping it's helpful and not unwanted.

“Hey Stiles, it's me, Derek. I know you're in there somewhere fighting some pretty big demons. I think that maybe you've been fighting them for a while and you didn't think that you had anyone in your corner, but I am. I want to be. I know I don't know your whole story and maybe I never will, that's ok. I just need you to know that you have someone here rooting for you,” Derek cradles his hand a little tighter remembering their fight.

“I know you said to forget you, and to let whatever existed between us just die, but I can't and I don't want to,” Derek's eyes go misty as he rubs his nose with the back of his free hand, “You don't know this about me but I'm pretty stubborn, it's like a character flaw of mine. My sister is down stairs, she can tell you...we're all like that. Also there's the frowning, people always notice how grumpy we can all look.”

Derek closes his eyes and siphons off the pain from Stiles, dark veins pulse at his wrist and branch out as they climb up his arm, he begins to shake. Derek throws his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forces himself to swallow a scream that burns the back of his eyes and straight through the other side of his skull. It's world shattering. The pain. Tears roll quickly down his cheeks from the weight of it pressing into him from all sides.

It's not physical pain like he's used to pulling off someone wounded or hurt, it's emotional. Derek's mind races as a flurry of emotions pulse through him making his skull feel like it might actually crack open and his heart like it might stop at any second and calcify to stone. There's no organisation or rhythm to it all, it just spins like a Rolodex being constantly flipped over and over each card a new awful feeling that sweeps through his entire body with a force he is unaccustomed to.

Guilt. Heartbreak. Loss. Grief. Fear. Loneliness. Emptiness. Worthlessness. Alienation. Estrangement.

Over and over and over.

Derek drops Stiles' hand, gasping for breath, his broad chest heaving valiantly under his shirt. His head now houses a dull ache, that throbs behind his eyes like a migraine but so much worse. He sobs quietly as he takes up Stiles hand in both of his. He leans down to press a wet kiss to his temple and lets himself inhale Stiles' scent of grass, sunflowers and rain, smiling through his tears the scent settles his nerves and helps him to steel himself.

“I'm so, so, so sorry you're going through this Stiles. God I'm so sorry. I'm not gonna forget you and I hope you don't really want to forget me, but it's OK if you do. I'm going to help you as much as I can, as much as I'm able to. Stiles you're important and you're important to Eli, so I need you to fight through this even if it's just to tell me off again. You can tell me to fuck off if you need to, I'll take it, scream, punch me, slam the door in my face. I don't care. Anything is better than this. I just need you to come back, I need you to be OK. There's things I want to tell you, and maybe they'll make it all worse, but I need to tell you. So please come back...please Stiles.”

Derek reaches under the covers to pull out the chain around Stiles' neck, his engagement ring still threaded on it. He made sure to leave it on when he washed him earlier. It didn't feel right to remove it, it felt sacred.

“Danny, my name is Derek Hale, I know you don't know me but if you can hear me please help. I know you must have been crazy about him right? Of course you were, how could you not be. He blames himself, he feels like he murdered you, and we both know that's not true, we both know he shouldn't have to carry that weight. Danny, if you can hear me, please help him. I can't reach him where he is at, I can't do anything here and I'm so scared I have to sit here a watch him waste away...”

Derek starts to draw from Stiles again with both hands, his irises instantly illuminating as he draws on his wolf to help him endure this, “...but this. I can do this for him I can bear some of the pain, and I can suffer with him. So Danny if you can hear me please help me, help him. Please. I don't know what else to do..."

Derek quietly cries as he replaces the necklace under the covers, sitting and siphoning for far longer than he should, until he can feel the pull at not just his own sanity but his life force too. He feels his wolf protest, whimpering loudly under the weight of it all, drained until his voice is lower than a whisper. "No more, no. Mate is hurting us. No more."

“Just. A. Little. Longer.” Derek grits out through his clenched teeth just before his upper body folds forward and he blacks out dropping to the floor with a solid *thwump as a final few tears roll sideways down his face and over his nose.

Derek doesn't see the faint shimmer along the edge of engagement ring on Stiles' chest. Doesn't smell the scent of pineapple, rubber and burnt sugar that wafts in through a crack in the window's framing. Derek surely isn't aware when the power goes out abruptly the second he blacked out plunging the entire loft into eerie stillness and total darkness. He surely doesn't hear Cora cuss from below as she tries to give Eli a bottle...

“What the fuck!!”

And had no chance of being aware of the misty form that collects in the air above the bed and settles over Stiles like a blanket before disappearing. Derek simply curls up on the floor like a small child might, to weak and drained to posture as an Alpha wolf. Derek has done all he can and now the rest is up to someone else.

Chapter Text

Danny had to have picked out the itchiest and most uncomfortable shirt that Stiles owned, he was absolutely sure of it as he wedged his slender fingers in between the buttoned collar and his neck for at least the 30^th time in the 20 minute drive to the restaurant trying to find ant semblance relief. It was one of the shirts from the back of Stile's closet, from a cluster of clothes bought by Lydia and Danny himself, designer clothes still in garment bags with the tags still attached and never worn. They were things he really had no use for, nowhere to wear them and if he's honest dressing up just made him feel like an imposter. Where exactly does one wear a $600 shirt form Tom Ford and why is a $600 shift less comfortable than a plain cotton tee? Shouldn't luxury feel...luxurious?

“Son are you OK, you seem a little on edge?”

Stiles pivots towards his father, fingers still under his collar pulling at the linen as if it were a noose. John is looking at him cautiously out of the corner of his eye, “No pops, I'm totally fine. If I were a business I would actually be a refinery for fineness. Because I'm so, you know, fine.” Stiles was met with a tired sigh that seemed to exaggerate all of the fine lines of age his father had earned over the years and the extra ones he put there himself...his clipped tone the very definition of not fine and John was more than aware, Stiles had always been a shit liar.

“Is it the shirt that's got you so wound up, or is it meeting the Mahealani's that has you this particular flavour of fine son? Or is it your old man meeting the Mahealani's that has you refining you fineness as you so eloquently said?” John reaches over to pull his son's hand from his collar, trying to save him from the angry red patches he's already rubbed raw in his fineness (re. Anxiety), a stark contrast to his white shirt and the rest of his naturally pale skin.

“Is this fatherly concern, or are you trying to interrogate me on the way to one of the most stressful and expensive meals I will ever have...possibly ever!” Stiles' voice rises to very undignified screech as he animatedly talks with both of his hands, his shoulder jerking at the seat belt as he swivels about in his seat. John tires not to look amused, a lifetime with his son, most of which it was just the two of them still hasn't numbed him to his antics. If anything now that he has been living out of the house for a couple of years it only endears him to his son and his particular brand of animated agitation.

“Stressful? What happened to fine?” John asks, clearly trying to hide the smirk in his voice as he keeps his eyes on the road in spite of enjoying the cacophony of strangled sounds that came from the passenger seat of his car as he, what's the term the kids use, clocks his son's tee? Stiles had always been a little bit dramatic or wound tighter than most kids his age and usually at the exact moments he shouldn't be, and then full of blind undeserved confidence when he should have had a bit more caution or reservation. This was one of the former, which felt on brand for evening ahead.

Stiles scrubs at his face with his hands as if he could rub away his agitation and somehow also look more put together, but this action only made his face redder and his hair wilder atop his head, “Ha, good one pops! You know what? Fine, I'll say it, I'm stressed. I am stressed out, and I am uncomfortable in this shirt, and most of it is because I am about to have dinner with my boyfriend's family that just so happen to be billionaires that freakin' flew in from Hawaii for Danny's graduation and this dinner to meet me, or us, parents by-the-way who's only son just got his degree in Software Engineering and Data Sciences, and is the most distinguished graduate of his class”

Stiles took a big gulp of air, nearly choking on his own saliva, and then continued, “The same son who's boyfriend's Father is one of the most beloved and respected Sheriffs in Wolf Gap's recent history, or maybe ever, who was one of the most respected Deputies before that, and one of the most respected Detectives before that....do I really need to give you your resume filled out with all the 'most beloved' and 'respected' things you've been before and in my lifetime or do you get the gist of this?” Stiles bites off bitterly as he begins to furiously gnaw on his already chewed fingernails.

John pulls the SUV to a stop on the shoulder of the road, tires crunching in gravel as the vehicle scoots a few feet kicking up a cloud of dust in it's wake. Stiles' body jerks towards the dashboard at the sudden stop, inertia still propelling him, “And you are what exactly..?” John asks, turning with a patent parental frown.

“A 23 year old assistant at a local vet's office? I'm basically a fur covered secretary that picks up poop, dad. A glorified pooper scooper,” Stiles wails bashing his head backwards into the head rest several times for emphasis. John knows it's best to just let him have his tantrum and get it over with. After a few minutes Stiles slumps forward, spent, sweaty and red faced, making his father flash back to the many tantrums like this that he has witnessed in his son's lifetime with a fond smile.

“Son. You may just be an assistant, but you know I'm proud of you. I, well I haven't been the perfect father and I know that, you know that, most of the town knows it too. I let you grew up too quick, and I let you take care of me for too long on top of that. I fell apart when you needed me the most, and I can't undo that, I'm not a perfect man and I never will be, but you've somehow came out pretty damn close in spite of that.”

John's eyes grow misty as he continues speaking his voice softer now, gripping Stiles by the shoulder, “You have so much of your mother in you, I see it every day kiddo and I'm so glad I do. And Danny, he is crazy about you...over the damn moon...and he's a smart kid, distinguished graduate right, that means something too. And, you have so much potential, I saw your acceptance letters that you never told me about, by the way, probably thought we couldn't afford it? I even saw that targeted recruitment letter from the FBI, which we will be talking about at some point after tonight." John gives him a pointed look, "Look the point here is, you're pretty damn amazing and if they don't like you who cares? I love you. Danny loves you and they are probably gonna love you too. Would you stop seeing Danny if they end up not liking you tonight, does their approval change anything for you?”

“No,” Stiles whines back, as he straightens up in the car seat and lets out a defeated sigh. “It's not fair giving me this sweet 'I see you' pep talk instead of letting me spiral out into oblivion and get black out drunk on wine labels I can't hope to pronounce. And I'm choosing to ignore you snooped through my mail.”

“You never changed your address, that's on you kiddo. There could have been anthrax, or enchanted chain letters, had to be safe,” John smirks back. “Are we good now?”

“We're good. You and your stupid logic actually helped,” Stiles huffs and sags back into the passenger's seat, his shirt suddenly not itching as much anymore. “And I'm getting a change of address form tomorrow, by the way old man.”

“OK, now lets go blow a month's salary on a meal that probably looks like the stuff from the Fancy Feast commercials. I'm absolutely starving, and excited for food that doesn't come from a ticket box that I eat off of my desk or my coffee table.”

*-*-*-

Stiles watches as he and his dad pull back out onto the road and drive away. The tail end of his Dad's Bronco fading into the distance.

Wait what? I'm here so how am I there? Did I get roofied?

Stiles looks down at his hands and notices that he has no feeling in them, that there is a slight sheen to his skin, a luminescence that almost feels like a hologram might. He can't seem to remember what he's doing here, or remember much at all for matter, and when he tries to focus he only becomes more confused as his mind feels like it's racing too quickly to focus on one thing a dull ache forming as he attempts. He tries to shake his head to clear it to no real effect.

“I never knew you thought of yourself like that.”

Stiles feels a chill up his spine at the voice behind him, and not just because he was alone on the side of the road a second ago.

“Danny?!” Stiles hesitates for half a second before he spins on his heel and runs forward, takes up the other man in his arms and spins him in a circle, clutching him tight to his chest as if he's a small child. He feels light as air, but Stiles doesn't care, doesn't question one more odd thing about this moment, he just spins. He's here and he's just the same, and Stiles is crying and refusing to let go without really knowing why. Dannydannydanny.

Finally he stops and sets Danny down, hands resting on his waist, noting his feet make no noise in the gravel, “It feels like it's been a life time, two lifetimes. Where have you been? I feel like I just saw you, but I couldn't have could I? ”

Danny reaches out to smooth over Stiles' wild hair. Stiles doesn't feel his hand, not really. It's more like remembering a touch than feeling it on his skin, but it still soothes something in him. Something is off here...

“I've been close by, just out of sight, but it has been a while since you could see me.”

Stiles chokes as fragments align in his mind, “You had to go away, you left, for a long time!”

Danny nods, his handsome face suddenly soured as his eyes grow cloudy, “Yes, I did, but not because I wanted to. I never wanted to leave you.”

“Oh my God, you're dead, am I dead too?!!?” Stiles panics, “I can't remember where I was...wait no...i was in my loft, then in the car,” Stiles jerks his thumb towards his shoulder pointing to the road behind him, his brows drawn down low in confusion.

“Actually you're in bed right now,” Danny smirks letting his head tilt to the side at Stiles' bewildered expression.

“What, and put you're dimples away, I'm already struggling here? Nothing makes any sense to me,” Stiles pushes at Danny, not really trying to create any distance between them, just frustrated.

Danny continues to smile, dimples on full display in spite of Stiles' protest, “OK. So in the real world you had a mental break down a few days ago....just wait let me finish please,” Stiles closes his mouth, and lets out a breath through his nose to let Danny continue, with a frown.

“Thank you. So you're kind of stuck inside of your own mind, and it doesn't seem like you're getting over it on your own. So I was called to help you. To be a guide for you.” Danny smiles and waits to see how well Stiles is taking all of this in.

“So you're my spirit guide? And I called you to help me get out of my head?”

“Yes, but not in the culturally appropriative way. I'm just a spirit that's here to help you...a ghost guide might be a safer term than spirit guide. And no you didn't call me.”

Stiles scrunches up his nose, “Then who called you?”

“Someone that was worried enough to call me from the other side by their sheer force of will. Someone you must mean a lot to.”

“Aren't you gonna tell me this person's name?” Stiles huffs, left eye squinting with a hint of irritation.

“No,” Danny replies with a lipless smile, “The point of all of this is that we have to get you through this night, it's the reason you're stuck, and I am uniquely qualified to help you. Everything will be a lot clearer as we go.”

“This night. You mean the dinner with your parents?” Stiles asks, turning his head towards the road again, “I don't remember much about it, but it was going to be special wasn't it?” Stiles turns back with a smile and is met with a curious look from Danny.

“Yeah it was. So, are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Stiles asks as Danny takes his hand and they dissolve into a shimmer of silvery blue light.

^*^*^*

John and Stiles follow a host towards a large round table in the back of the restaurant. The place is even swankier than Stiles had imagined, white linen on all of the tables, wait staff in suits, bottles of champagne chilling table-side that likely cost triple the mortgage he forces Danny to split with him. Oh God he spied the table settings and there were more than two forks! He swallows hard as he approaches the table and an elegantly dressed couple stand, smiling at them both.

“Meech-eat-slaw, its so wonderful to finally meet you,” the woman was the first to speak as she steps closer.

“You must be Nancy, Danny described you so perfectly,” Stiles smiles and extends his hand to offer a handshake, “and I prefer to go by Stiles if that's OK.”

Nancy smiles back warmly and takes his hand in both of hers, “Did I not say it correctly? I'm sorry I should have practiced more, I made Danny coach me last night,” she seems genuinely upset to have gotten his name wrong.

“Oh, no. It's not that, you did great. Most people give up after the first syllable when the see it written down. I've never gone by it, even my family calls me Stiles, it's probably confusing because Danny always calls me 'M'.”

As if waiting for that cue John steps up, “And I'm Stiles' father, Noah, but I go by John. I guess you can say it's a family tradition to have a second name. I promise we are a mostly normal family,” He laughs easily, and extends his hand towards the man calmly standing next to Nancy in a sharp grey suit, Stiles can smell the expensive cologne on his collar, they even smell rich.

“Pleasure to meet you John, I'm Keahu. Daniel has told me of your impressive service record, I'm so happy you could make it tonight. I take it you don't to have too many nights off,” Keahu has an scent of dignified calm about him, smelling of warm cotton, which does nothing but set Stiles' anxiety off again.

'Oh God, it's worse than I thought. They're nice too.'

“In my line of work, most meals are from take out containers and brown paper bags behind my desk. I wouldn't miss this, even if we weren't celebrating. I even came armed if anyone tries to stop me.” John and Keahu laugh gregariously, a knowing nod passing between them that Stiles misses as he palms his own face.

Stiles quietly panics as he takes his seat next to his father, across form Nancy with Keahu between her and his father. A waiter silently appears and fills their water glasses and a generous pour of white wine. Stiles immediately takes his glass in hand.

“I hope Riesling is OK?” Nancy asks as the waiter quietly retreats, “Danny said he was running late so he asked us to make sure to put in for a few appetizers. We got the baked brie and the scallops.”

Stiles smiles and nods, “Thank you that's all very kind of...wait,” Stiles freezes, “late?”

“Yes, he had called right before you arrived. He said traffic was worse than expected on the freeway and that the food would help you be calmer,” Nancy replies with a nervous edge and a soft smile, thinking it's sweet.

Stiles laughs dryly as he silently pulls his phone from his pocket and types out a message as covertly as possible.

He silently presses send and takes a mouthful of wine to calm himself as he tucks his phone under his thigh.

“So Danny says that you're a veterinarian. That's very impressive for someone your age. I imagine that's a very demanding profession but rewarding,” Nancy smiles kindly as she takes up her own wine and tips it towards Stiles. John and Keahu are quietly talking about something to his side that he can't quite hear.

Stiles feels his face pale as his palms grow damp with dread, “Actually I work for the Vet, Dr Deaton. I'm just an assistant though.” He takes another mouthful of wine to avoid any look of disappointment from Nancy

“Oh. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-,” Nancy appears as flustered as Stiles feels, obviously embarrassed at her mistake and unsure how to recover.

“You know it makes perfect sense though, Danny has always been a dog lover since he was a baby. Of course he would find someone connected to them in some way. It also lets me know you must have a care giving spirit. I'm surprised you two don't have a dog of your own, or twelve, knowing Danny.”

Stiles blushes, his inner wolf practically purring at the knowledge that he was in fact the 'dog' that Danny was obsessed with these days. “Actually, he's mentioned it. There's a particular dog he's pretty fond of, kind of a foster situation. I keep thinking he's going to lock him down, but I think he's so focused on finding a job now that he's got tunnel vision.”

John gives his son a knowing look. As Stiles smirks at his own cleverness.

Nancy laughs, “Oh he is so much like his father,” She lovingly strokes Keahu's harm as he turns to her, “He has always been so focused on his work. That's part of the reason we retired to Hawaii after Danny finished his first year of college. He was never going to stay out of the office if he was this close.”

“You worked in the tech field right?” John asks thoughtfully as he twirls his wine glass.

“Yes, since the late 70s, but like many things, technology is a young man's game now, as it should be. I had my time and it gave me a great life, one I never thought I would be able to have for myself.” Keahu turns to his wife teary eyed, “But none of it means anything without someone to share in the joys with.”

John takes a sip of his wine attempting to stifle a choked noise, Stiles places a hand on his shoulder, knowing what he must be thinking of.

“Oh. Oh no. I am so sorry, I didn't mean,” Keahu's cheeks flush before he clears his throat an straightens up. “I know that sounded insensitive I didn't mean to offend, John. Please accept my apologies, Daniel has told me about...well about.”

John holds up a hand towards Keahu, “Oh no you're fine. I agree, wholeheartedly with what you had to say. I had my time with Claudia, and it was perfect.” He turns to look his son in the face, “She was there when I was a rookie, saw me become a deputy, we had this wonderful kid, made a home that I still cherish to this day. We had a wonderful life, built it together brick by brick. She just didn't get to finish it with me...or us. With us.” John caps Stiles' hand with his own his eyes now teary as well.

Stiles' phone goes off breaking the silence that followed his dad's words, just as the scallops and brie are brought to the table.

Stiles stands abruptly, “Excuse me.” He bows awkwardly, unsure of the proper etiquette for leaving the table, and makes his way back to the front of the restaurant as he presses Danny's contact and his phone starts to ring.

^*^*^*

Stiles and Danny watch as he walks away from the table, leaving their parents looking after him.

“Do you think he would be more or less nervous if he knew,” Nancy asks the two men, “Poor dear is on a hair trigger tonight.” She tuts watching him weave awkwardly through the tables as he ducks wait staff and patrons alike.

“Oh, he'd be so much worse,” John laughs as he wipes his eyes with his napkin and takes a sip of water.

“We will definitely spring for the planner on the big day,” Keahu offers kindly, wiping his own eyes.

“And he's gonna fight tooth and nail to avoid that. I'll try to soften him up first though,” John says with a sly grin.

“What the hell are they talking about?” Stiles asks, turning to Danny where they stand to the side of the table. “This isn't even my memory, my brain just walked over there with the rest of my body.”

Danny laughs, “You're a non-corporeal entity standing here with a ghost, over looking a past event and the fact that you weren't in this exact scene is the only thing that feels unrealistic to you?”

“Well. You know what, yes, yes it is! Isn't this my memory? Shouldn't it make sense to me?”

“Not exactly. You are your memories, but we're mostly outside of your body here. This is more of a liminal space outside of time. Your body is still in bed, mostly where you left it, safe and un-moving. We're here to help you face what you're running from and hopefully shock you back to your normal reality.”

“OK, vague,” Stiles frowns.

Danny rolls his eyes and takes Stiles hand in his gently, rubbing over his knuckles, “Do you remember what come's next?”

“Yeah, I call you and ream your ass,” Stiles huffs crossing his arms.

“And then?” Danny raises a brow, waiting to see what he'll say.

“And then, I...well after that I...”

^*^*^*

“I know you're a mess but I'm ten out I promise.”

“Ten out! Danny I am beyond mess and on my way to total break down. I've been insulted in the kindest possible way, along with my father. And now they are talking about my dead mother and our dad's are crying in unison. I've necked a full glass of wine on an empty stomach, so I am a little buzzed, and now there's food and I don't know which of the forks I'm supposed to use to not look like poor white trash. Danny get your ass here now!”

“Babe I promise I'll be right ther-”

**There's a sickening screech, and the sound of metal scraping metal followed by a sound like thunder, accompanied by breaking glass. **

“Danny. Danny! DANNY!” Several people turn to look as Stiles' voice escalates, where he paces next to the entrance.

“DANIEL ,ANSWER ME!” Stiles screams into this phone, not giving the slightest fuck who's staring as his heart races, feeling as it's being bruised where it beats into his ribs.

There's a soft sound he can't hear, a voice, words, too soft even for his enhanced hearing to make out through the line. It almost sounds like 'surprise'. He closes his eyes and concentrates, sending out his senses as best he can, trying to avoid the minefield of sounds behind him and just focus on the phone.

Laboured breathing. Danny's laboured breathing, wet and weak. Stiles can hear a gurgle as he tries to clear his throat.

“Danny please answer me baby,” He begs into the phone, his voice breaking at the seams.

Another wet gurgle, “Mieczyslaw Mahealani.” then nothing, stillness. Quiet. The drip of something wet and thick in the enclosed space of the car.

Stiles drops the phone, the screen shattering on impact. John is right there, catching him as he falls to his knees, “Son, son, what is it? What happened? Stiles look at me!”

John is panicked as he tries to get Stiles to focus, already dreading the answer he can feel is coming. He taps his cheek gently, holding him by the chin.

Stiles looks up at his dad, his eyes hollowed out, void of any life, “He's dead.”

“What, who's dead? Son, who's dead?!?”John asks shaking him slightly as his own stomach drops. He turns to look back as Nancy and Keahu make their way across the restaurant where a crowd is gathered. “Stiles who-”

“Danny. Danny's dead. Danny's Dead! He's Gone!! HE'S GONE!!!! HE'S DEAD!!!!” Stiles' eyes ignite a brilliant gold as he tilts back his head and wails until his throat is raw and bleeding.

The sound he makes is so loud that those closest to him cover their ears as it becomes an inhuman sound that will haunt many people's nightmares for life. Nancy screams and Keahu holds he close. It then cuts off as it becomes too high pitched for human ears to even hear. Crystal stem wear pops as it shatters on the tables closest to him causing more patrons to scream. For miles dogs howl and bark in response alerted by the overwhelming call of pain and grief.

Several of Stiles' pack immediately recognize his howl and try to call, but his phone lies broken at his knees.

There are tears in Nancy's eyes, she already knows, “It's Danny isn't it? Something happened?”

The restaurant erupts into chaos as people begin to leave and staff attempts to clean and organise the ensuing fall out, many suspicious of the wailing boy by the door. Stiles sags forward and coughs up a mouthful blood, his fangs extended, filling out his mouth. John manages to get in between him and the crowd, “Son your face, your eyes,” He whispers trying to hide him as he can.

Stiles turns his head, as his eyes blink back to brown and his fangs retract into his skull, then he promptly passes out in his father's arms, blood dripping from his lips.

“We need to leave,” John picks up his son and quickly walks out of the restaurant with Keahu and Nancy following closely, holding on to each other to keep from falling apart as well.

^*^*^*

“I want to go back. Send me back. Back to my body back to bed. Danny don't make me,” Stiles is crying as he watches his dad place him in the back seat of his SUV.

“Don't make you what M?” Danny asks drawing close to him.

“Don't make me relive this,” Stiles says wetly, tears already flowing down his face.

“I thought you didn't remember,” Danny asks placing his arms around Stiles' waist.

“Of course I remember. I've replayed this night so many fucking times in my head. All the angles, all the smells and faces and...I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER IT!”

Danny squeezes him closer and Stiles wishes more than anything he could actually feel it, “Babe, you have to. You have to face this night. For me.”

“No I don't. Please. Please don't. Take this back, take it all back let me forget it again.”

Danny turns Stiles in his arms, “You never really forgot M, you just pushed it down so far that it became and black hole in your soul and now that black hole is sucking you in. Outside of here you are wasting away, you've been catatonic for days, laying in your own filth. If you truly want me to I can leave, let you find your own way back to your body from here. Bury these images again.”

Stiles hiccups, as Danny traces over his temple, “Or we can face this together, I can guide you. There's one more thing that you need to see. A missing piece that I think will help.”

Stiles shakes his head 'no' as he leans into Danny seeking the comfort of a body that doesn't really exist. “Do you still trust me M?” Danny asks softly his lips hovering just over Stiles' ear.

“You know I do,” Stiles whispers back, small and afraid, not wanting to meet Danny's eyes.

Danny backs up and offers his hand, “Then lets finish this...together.”

Chapter Text

Stiles and Danny appear at an intersection, Stiles recognises it immediately, tightening his grip on Danny's hand, “No! Not here.”

Danny smiles sadly, his lips pressed thin and tight, “Just watch.”

Stiles turns back to the road just as Danny's blue Hyundai comes into view, and his eyes start to burn as they conjure bitter tears. “Please don't make me watch this.”

Danny squeezes his hand back, watching his soft brown eyes ring with tears, “You need to see this.”

Stiles can make out Danny talking through the windshield of his car as he approaches, he's already on the call with past Stiles. He turns to look down the intersecting road, watching the through light turn red, yet the approaching truck doesn't break, it only swerves to the shoulder and corrects itself, fishtailing a little as it speeds up.

The truck is red or maybe Stiles just sees red...red light, red truck, red, Red, RED! Then it happens, the sound is even worse here in person(?) when the truck collides with Danny's hatchback. The breaks, the sound of metal meeting metal and instantly giving way, glass shattering in an instant, scattering across the pavement like all their broken dreams. The thundering as Danny's vehicle is sent rolling diagonally across the intersection until it strikes the pole of the traffic light and crumples up like a can, upside down.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Stiles screams and even though he knows he's just a spectator here, that he's no help at all he runs, dropping Danny's hand in an instant to race towards the other.

His knees crunch down into shattered glass as he crawls to the driver's side window. He doesn't feel it, he isn't real here yet still he tries to save the man he loves. “Dan, Danny. Dan I'm here,” he's crying as he braces his hand on the door and leans down to look inside, his side scraping over broken glass that does not cut him.

Danny is still securely belted, suspended to what is now the top interior of the vehicle. Blood seems to drip from every part of him, down his shirt and over his neck, from his nose and over his brow and off his fingertips that dangle limply.

“Danny. Danny! DANNY!” Stiles hears himself through the car speakers, Danny's call still in progress the system and phone still intact after the accident, “DANIEL, ANSWER ME!”

“Doesn't look like I'm going to make it to dinner M.”

Stiles looks up, bloody and wheezing Danny starts to speak. It's so quiet and so soft, Stiles thinks he's imagining it. He realises he hadn't been able to hear him say this over the phone, he was too quiet to be picked up by the microphone in the car's steering wheel.

'Oh god he wanted to talk to me!!' Stiles sobs as he reaches for one of Danny's hands, but he makes no contact, simply passing through the appendage as if he's made of mist and air.

“I'm so sorry babe...” Danny continues, and each word is a struggle, a dying message Stiles had never heard, and it wrecks him to his core as he listens, hunched and frozen, “It was supposed to be...a surprise. I know...how much...you love surprises.”

Danny's laboured breathing is becoming wet and weak, his voice starting to falter. There's a gurgle as he tries to clear his throat, spitting up a mouthful of dark blood that falls to the ceiling below him.

“Danny please answer me baby,” Stiles hears himself begging through the speakers, knowing now that he wasn't able to hear this message.

“I don't...want you to blame yourself... do you hear me baby? I just wanted...to be...able...to wake up every day to...

Another wet gurgle and when Danny speaks his last words they are clear and full of adoration, full of broken promises and futures dashed in a second, the very next one after he says, “Mieczyslaw Mahealani.” then nothing.

Stillness.

Quiet.

Stiles just watches his lover die, hears his last breath and his final words. Sees his broken body in his mangled car and listens to the other side of that dreaded call, as the calls drops when the phone on the other end is broken. He feels his heart shatter all over again, in a new terrible way that he didn't even know was possible after all this grief. There's a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey come on. We don't have to stay here,” Danny pulls at him gently until he stands, weak and tired, still sobbing even though he can't feel the tears on his face or the snot that drips from his nose.

The scene around them fades and they emerge into an endless field. It's all golden grass and infinite horizons and golden evening sun, warm and sweet. It's nice, the kind of place you can walk forever and not get tired, the kind of sunset that lasts forever. It's peaceful and inviting.

Danny holds Stiles and lets him cry in his arms. There's no measure of time for how long it happened, as time doesn't exists here. It could have been days or years, months or a millennium, but finally, after a time, the tears are gone, and there's just the press of two unfeeling bodies. One giving whatever comfort he can offer, and one drinking it in so deep he can almost feel the arms that squeeze all of his broken pieces close until he almost feels like he might be whole, or at least remember what it's like to feel whole.

“You knew I'd blame myself,” Stiles finally speaks, and it's said like a question but comes out as a statement, a truth that has just settled into him. Danny wanted to make sure he had peace.

“I did. I knew you would see it as your fault I was on this road and that I was on that call with you,” Danny says softly, stroking the back of Stiles hairline, remembering how it used to calm him when he could feel it. The memory of the touch is comforting to both of them.

“And I did,” Stiles croaks, “Not right away, though, but when I found the ring, after I had to come and identify you. When I knew why we had the dinner in the first place, why it was all so important and why you were late. Everyone knew, everyone knew, but no one said a word about it to me. Even after it all... I had to find out when that box fell out of the bag they gave me.”

“I'm so sorry M, it was all so unfair to you, every bit of it. I never imagined anything like this would happen. I thought you'd hear me, from the call with your hearing. I thought your dad, might have held you and let you know, let you cry it out that night. I tried to tell you as best I could, I'm so sorry baby,” Danny replies, his voice wet and thick next to Stiles' ear where his chin rests.

“Oh Dan, you did good babe. I'm sorry I didn't hear you...you did so good,” Stiles tries to muster a smile through the tears.

“Did your dad go with you to uh—to the morgue?”

“He did.”

“Good.”

“I thought you said that you were 'around', you didn't know what came next?” Stiles asks backing up a little to see Danny's face in the golden light of the sunset.

“Not at first. At first I was here,” Danny motions around them, “I wandered here for a long time, until I knew what it was. The I left, could leave.”

“What is it” Stiles asks curiously.

“You see the sun?”

Stiles nods before turning to look at Danny's face again.

“It's not the sun. It's 'The Light'. I'm meant to walk towards it when I'm ready, to the next life or unlife, rebirth...whatever it is that comes next, but I couldn't leave until I knew that you were OK. I knew this place would wait for me and I knew how to get back here once I figured out what it was for.”

“You came back for me?” Stiles whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips in spite of everything. He feels a weight shift in his chest and his next breath comes to him easier.

“Of course I did. When I came back though, you were gone. You had left. I only found you because I could feel your pain,” Danny winces admitting what lead him to Stiles.

Stiles' face goes stoic, “Yeah. I uh, left pretty quickly. Right after the funeral, your parents. They signed over all the money from your accounts, said you would have wanted me to be able to rebuild, after everything. They were so sweet, to even care about after, you know. And it sounds awful, and it is or was, but I left that same night. I told everyone I needed to be alone, which wasn't a lie, and I went home and I packed everything I could in the car and I just left in the middle of the night.”

Danny strokes his thumb along Stiles' jaw, and he closes his eyes as if he could feel it, “I threw away my phone after I took all the photos off of it, deleted my emails. The first town I could I changed bank, made sure to take out some cash until the accounts were verified. I spent months on the road before I landed in Beacon Hills. Or broke down.”

“Why did you run in the first place?” Danny asks, not accusing or angry, just full of regret.

“I love my dad. I love Scotty and my pack and hell some days I even love Peter, that asshole. But when you...without you...there was no way I could stay there in Wolf Gap. It was always gonna be a reminder, of my guilt and my grief and my loss, a-and you. I rebuilt my life from loss once. I painted over painful memories with new ones and I stayed, I mean I was a kid but I stayed. I didn't have the strength to do that again.”

“And now. If you could do it over with what you know, would anything be different?” Danny asks softly, hopefully.

Stiles pulls away and turns around towards the 'sunset', “I would have explained I think, left a note, made a call—something. And maybe I wouldn't have felt so guilty if I knew you died not hating me or blaming me yourself, but I think I still would have left.”

Danny reaches out, pulling Stiles back to his chest, chin on his shoulder, “Do you really think that I ever could have blamed you?”

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Always,” Danny smiles.

“OK, then yeah. I thought that maybe you would have regretted ever getting my ring, or getting our house or meeting me. You were always a popular kid, you came from money and had every opportunity in the world , but you chose me. The poor kid, from a broken family. The broken kid that only had one real friend through most of school. A loser.”

“So yeah I thought maybe when you were dying, hearing me scream you might have thought 'fuck him and curse the day we met!' and deep down the thing I've never let myself say out-loud, that no one else knew about, is that you blamed me because I didn't have Peter give you the bite earlier. You would have walked away that night.”

“Baby I have never thought of you like that. Don't even speak those thoughts, OK? And we agreed to wait,” Danny says calmly, his face twisted up in sorrow.

“But only because I said you should finish college first, told you the stress would be too much as a new wolf,” Stiles sniffles, “You wanted it as soon as you knew we could have pups, a baby. I made us, YOU wait.”

“I did, and that's why I wanted to marry you. I wanted to do right by you M. I don't regret not taking the bite, and I don't blame you,” Danny squeezes Stiles.

“God that is so hetero-normative," Stiles groans holding back another sniffle as he lets his head fall to the side.

“Yeah,” Danny laughs, “Getting gay married to my gay boyfriend who also happens to be a gay werewolf and can knock me up, because male pregnancy is a thing, is soooo hetero-normative.”

“Eww. Shut up,” Stiles laughs in spite of everything, “You know what I meant, you were trying to make an honest werewolf out of me.”

“Well I did take your virginity, it felt like the right thing to do,” Danny laughs shaking them both.

“Please, I was begging anyone to take it, you just happened to be in ear shot when I was desperate and as usual too loud,” Stiles teases, thinking back to the day Danny offered to relieve him of his burden.

“Yet you got so drunk you passed out before you even took your shoes off,” Danny reminds him, of the night of their first 'attempt'.

“I was trying to loosen up,” Stiles huffs, puffing out his chest.

“You're not even the one that needed to be loose though! And I was ready that night, by the way,” Danny wags his eyebrows with a crooked grin that Stiles manages to catch out of the corner of his eye.

“Damn,” Stiles laughs followed by a beat of silence, “I miss this.”

“What?”

“Us,” Stiles answers, his tone bittersweet and soft.

Danny nuzzles his neck, there's no sensation but it still makes Stiles feel a sense of warmth, or maybe just remember what the warmth between them used to feel like.

“Stiles I cant...”

“Stay?” Stiles finishes, “I know.”

There's a stretch of silence as the two of them stay pressed together, front to back, “I could come with you,” Stiles offers.

“You could,” Danny states honestly, “But what about that little wolf and your dad and Scott, even Peter. They deserve a goodbye or an explanation don't they?”

“Don't use logic against me, that's not fair,” Stiles complains earning him a laugh in return.

“Are we gonna talk about Mr Dilf Wolf?” Danny asks placing his hands on Stiles' hips suggestively, a playful lilt to his voice.

Stiles just groans, a blush creeping up his neck as he tries to shimmy away.

“Oh come on. I'm dead not blind. He's a total smoke-show and him and that baby are obsessed with you!” Danny says excitedly.

“Yeah well anything that was there, I ruined it. I kind of freaked out when he made a move and anything there is over. Doesn't matter though I told him I'm still I love with you, he'll never wanna see me again after all of that. And trust me a guy like that, he has options.”

“I'm still in love with you too,” Danny kisses the side of Stiles' mouth in response, “and I know you have room for more in here.” Danny taps Stiles' chest with a finger gently, “Letting yourself love someone else doesn't mean you love me less. You're allowed to have more than one great love in your life. I want you to. And I know how big your heart is.”

“You want me to date Derek?” Stiles asks cautiously with a dark curiosity buried in his eyes

“Oh god. Of course he has some bro name like Derek, but yes. Or I at least want you to not count him out because of me. I'm your past. You have a chance of a family and to get married and make a new life. All the things we got robbed of. There's a spark there, one you deserve to follow and see what it ignites.”

“It just doesn't feel fair that I get to do all of that and you don't. You wanted all of that too,” Stiles says softly turning his head to kiss the side of Danny's cheek.

Danny can see the conflict in Stiles' face, his desire and his sadness they war along his pointed features. He knows him just as well as when he was alive.

“I did, but my clock ran out M. That's why I need you too do it. If I was still there it would be you and me, you know that, but it's not.” Danny lets out a deep sigh, “So you have to do it for the both of us.”

“You really are OK with this, aren't you?” Stiles asks, softly.

“That's why I'm here. I needed you to know,” Danny smiles, “I want you to move on. I need to know that you're gonna be OK so that I can move on too. Do you want me to move on?”

God. Stiles feels the weight of that loaded question. They either both move on or they both stay stuck, one dead and one barely living...or...Danny moves on to—whatever comes next, and Stiles well he gets to finish out his life without him.

“There's no easy answer to that,” Stiles says with a weary frown, “Now that I know you're here, around me and have been, it's like I have to lose you all over again.”

“I know.”

“And it feels selfish no matter what I choose. Either I say I want to keep whatever part of you this is—or tell you to move on so I can move on with my life, date again, love again with a clean conscience or whatever. That's not...how...how can that be fair?”

“You already made your choice though haven't you?”

“How could you possibly know?” Stiles asks incredulously.

Danny smirks, “Because I still know you. And because I've been watching your face and now...now I see peace, even though you hate it, I know.”

Stiles starts to cry softly again.

“It's OK.”

“That's what sucks,” Stiles sniffles.

Danny looks at him confused, “What does?”

“That for the first time, since, well since you left, it feels like I might be OK again. And I kind of hate that. I hate that I'm gonna be OK and you're gonna be OK and life is just gonna go on again.”

Danny smiles, tears in his own eyes to match, “We are. We're both gonna be OK baby.”

“This really sucks,” Stiles replies crying a little bit harder now.

Danny cups his face in both of his hands, thumbs brushing away ghostly tears that aren't wet or real, but still he swipes them, letting his own fall down his cheeks. He presses their foreheads together, sharing what should be breath but isn't. It's a goodbye, a real one...

The one they never got.

Stiles closes the distance and presses their lips together, and while there is no feeling of a kiss, no press of lips, no warm pressure or dampness to speak of, there's memory. All the memories of all the kisses they had ever shared. Those memories flash now in rapid succession behind their closed eyes.

Their first kiss, on the night Stiles had been so nervous and even more drunk to lose his virginity. They had crashed together on the backside of Danny's bedroom door, teeth clacking painfully, Stiles stumbling to the side as Danny caught him. It was rushed and messy, and the alcohol makes the memory fuzzy, but pleasant.

There's the night that they camped in the mountains that bordered Wolf Gap, just a sleeping bag under the stars, warm summer air thick around them, they kissed until their lips felt bruised, legs pretzeled up inside the nylon sack sticky with sweat. They had meant to take it further that had been the plan, but for some reason they just got lost in each others arms and fell asleep breathless, with kiss swollen lips and stayed next to each other until dawn.

Fast forward to graduation when Scott caught them making out in an empty class room, Stiles hand down the back of Danny's pants. Scott had been the one blushing though, saying that he thought he had heard someone in pain, but Danny's whimpering had nothing to do with pain. They laughed as Scott ran away even quicker than he had came.

And then the day that Stiles' dad had to drag them apart when Danny left for his first year of college and had to stay in the dorms. They had used John's truck to move Danny's room and made a day of it, just the three of them. When it came time to leave, the Sheriff had patiently let them have their moment, trying to not watch them out of the rear-view mirror, his head resting in his hand that was propped up on the door. Then he caught sight of his son getting handsy and intervened before he saw things he couldn't forget so easily. Their final kiss that night had been a little awkward, Stiles thrown over his dad's shoulder fireman style, Danny running up for one last kiss laughing as Stiles fought in his dad's surprisingly strong grip.

There were so many nights on the couch, and even sleepy kisses when Stiles woke up Danny asleep from studying at the table. Stiff-lipped kisses after fights and sloppy heated ones when they couldn't get undressed fast enough, desperate to become one. Chaste, hurried kisses goodbye and the slow kisses goodbye along with good morning kisses with bad breath and messy hair. One by one they flash and fall together, like rapids over rocks.

Stiles feels his heart, not so much the heart that beats but the one that feels. The one they talk about in love songs and sappy, flowery poetry...its warm...it's so warm. Stiles realizes that it hasn't been for a long time, knows now that it's been frozen. Frozen in time, frozen until it's become a solid mass behind his ribs. He didn't even notice the weight of it. The pressure it put on him, its so immense, so hard and solid and he hadn't noticed until right now, now that it's...it's melting.

They break apart and Stiles feels taller, lighter than he has in months, and warm. There's a warmth in him that's not heat or desire but comfort. “What do we do now?” he asks softly, his voice cracking as he speaks.

“We walk,” Danny says tenderly stroking Stiles' face, “towards the light.”

“But I thought the light was for you?”

“It is, but it will take us both where we're meant to be. Don't worry you're not dead yet, I doubt he'd let you go this easy anyways,” Danny smiles knowingly.

“Who?”

“You'll see,” Danny holds out his hand and Stiles takes it.

They walk hand in hand through the endless field, it's warm and the air smells sweet from the wheat and grass baking in the sun. It feels like walking through all your favorite memories, every good dream and sweet fantasy you've ever had. It makes Stiles smile even though he knows he's saying goodbye.

They walk and walk for what feels like it could be days until it becomes bright. So bright Stiles has to close his eyes as his retinas burn, and it's still to bright. He lets go of Danny's hand to shield his eyes and suddenly he was falling?

No.

Floating?

That's not it either.

He's flat? Yeah he's flat.

He's laying down, laying down on something soft.

A bed! It's a bed.

It smells nice, smells safe. Smells like it could be home, not the one he knows, but home just the same.

Then there's a voice as he works to open his eyes, they feel so heavy like they've been sealed shut and the voice is familiar, yet he can't place it...his brain feels all fuzzy and blank.

“Stiles?”

Chapter Text

“Stiles?”

There's that voice again. He tires to open his eyes, to sit up, but his body protests every second of it. Not only do his limbs feel heavy and weighted, his muscles scream at him in distress as they try to pull past each other, a chorus of agony that he immediately caves to. His eyelids feel all gummy and stuck in place as he tries to open them again to no effect.

“Oh. Hold on let me get something for you,” the familiar voice says. There's a rush of air as he leaves from the space next to his head, then the sound of quick feet on the floor as he returns promptly, “It'll be warm, but not hot” the voice warns.

Even with the warning Stiles jolts as a warm wet cloth is rubbed gently over his eyelids, the sudden movement makes him whine pitifully as even the muscles in his face protest to any form of movement.

“Shhh, I'm sorry,” the mystery voice croons at him. It's a good voice, manly and sturdy, Stiles still can't place it but he knows without a doubt that it's a voice he can trust...which triggers fragmented memories of himself...

Stiles in a nursery holding a warm small baby and being trusted.

Feeling useful with a basket of freshly washed laundry.

Falling asleep on the couch and protecting someone fiercely.

Being invited to dinner, to breakfast....ketchup...Ketchup?

“Ketchup?” Stiles asks, his voice a soft wheeze that immediately sets him off coughing from lack of use. He regrets talking immediately unable to quell the tickle in his throat or the coughing it causes.

There's a puff of surprised breath from his side, where the mystery man is still gently rubbing his eyes with the warm cloth. A second hand is placed on his chest, the warmth and weight helping him still his coughing a little easier as it's moved in slow easy circles over his bare skin.

“Would you like some ketchup? I have plenty,” The voice is softly amused, but not smarmy or mocking, it's...it's warm.

Warm like....sun....like light...like Danny.

“Danny?” Stiles says softly, memories of them standing in a field coming back to him, followed quickly by the rest of his time spent wherever they were...his mind, his past, his trauma? They all click into place, jarring his fuzzy brain that feels like it's being pressed full.

“No, not Danny,” The voice says, calmly and maybe a little sad, as he swipes each eye clean of the build up of yellow crust that had been sticking the lashes shut tight, “Can you open your eyes for me now?”

Stiles blinks, and his eyes move this time, everything is blurry when they open. He blinks a few more times and things become clearer but still not in full focus. He's in a room, nestled in a bed, cocooned in soft blankets and piles of pillows, evening sun paints the room gold and warm. It smells like it could be home, safe, loving and frustratingly familiar.

Stiles turns his head, and there he is, the man attached to the voice, it's source. He's devastatingly handsome, golden skin, dark hair, hazel eyes, square jaw, thick brows and broad shoulders hunched forward. Stiles takes him in, his eyes are puffy like someone that's been crying recently maybe for a while. His angular features are a touch too sharp, like his face had lost it's volume letting the sharpness of his skull show through.

“You're sad?” Stiles asks his voice soft and papery as he takes in the man.

“No, not any more. Now I'm very, very happy,” the man reaches up and runs his fingers through Stiles' hair, smiling as tears roll down his cheeks through a scruffy beard that feels out of place to Stiles.

Stiles' mind surges as it tries to pull up memories. It's not painful per se but it's uncomfortable, like a storm trapped in a bottle, swirling and racing and spinning but never touching land. Everything here feels, smells, so familiar...why can't he place it? Where are those memories?

“Are, are you OK?” the man asks. There's a touch of fear in his tone as the fingers on Stiles' scalp pause their movement.

Stiles blinks, “I made you h-happy?” he cant help but breathe in the scent of the man's happiness and it smells like cedar and sunflowers on a hot summer day, warm golden...

He laughs, crowding in close until their foreheads touch, “You did, you do. I was scared you wouldn't come back to me. Scared you'd be mad at me when you did. Are you mad at me?”

“M-mad at you?” Stiles squints up at the man wondering how he could ever be mad at such a sweet beautiful man.

'Mad?'

Stiles' breath is stolen from him in an instant as memory is slammed back into him, his mind splitting apart like the sky during a thunderstorm. He physically jolts as all the memories of the last few months rush back to him, not one by one like the half memories he had just seen but all at once like a brick dropped down a well.

“D-Derek?!” Stiles chokes on the name.

“Yeah, yeah that's right,” Derek says as he runs his fingers through his hair again, his smile is wide and the tears roll quickly over his too-sharp cheeks.

“I was...I'm so...”

“I know,” Derek responds softly, his tone infinitely patient with him which stabs into Stiles like a red hot dagger.

“I was s-so...mean,” Stiles cries, his voice breaking as he starts to shake, his frail body vibrating a dry leaf, fragile and nearly weightless.

“You were hurting,” Derek offers softly, thumbing Stiles' tears away gently with the pad of his large thumb.

“I hurt you!”

“No. You just scared me a little is all.”

“You wanted to be my friend.”

“I still do, if you'll have me?”

Stiles can't respond, blinded by his own tears so he simply nods in Derek's direction empathically indicating 'yesyesyesyesyes'.

Derek doesn't hesitate, he wraps his arms around the upper half of Stiles and pulls him to his chest, gentle but fully, until they're pressed chest to chest.

Stiles feels him nuzzle the top of his head, over and over, scent marking him. It should be weird, or intrusive, but its not. Not even close. It feels right.

“You smell like home,” Stiles rasps at him, his voice as soft as the rustling sheets around him. Still Derek hears him clear as day.

“You are home. If you want to be,” Stiles can feel the other man's heart thundering in his chest between them, “We don't have to be any more than friends, but I can take you in, you fit in here with me and Eli. This can be your home too.”

Stiles eyes go wide in recognition.

“Eli, I wanna see Eli! Please can I see him?” Stiles begs, launching into a fit of coughing as he speaks too quickly for his unused vocal chords.

“Of course you can, I'll get Cora to bring him up.”

“Cora?”

“My sister, she stayed here to help me with Eli so I could stay with you.”

Stiles feels another stab of guilt, hot and searing as it plunges to the core of him, he winces at the implication. “You ignored you son for me? Derek you...”

“Shhh. I didn't ignore him,” Derek soothes Stiles, “You just took precedence. I was with him every day.”

“But...”

“But nothing. Cora! Can you bring Eli in here?” Derek turns his head to bellow out into the loft.

Shortly there's petite but formidable looking woman at the door to the bed room, She has intense eyebrows, dark and warm like her hair, full lips and that same golden skin as Derek...definitely his sister with those brows.

“I'm glad you're finally awake. Derek here wouldn't stop fussing over you or talking about or leave your side for more than ten minutes.”

Derek guffaws.

Cora lays down a sleepy Eli swaddled up in a soft yellow blanket next to Stiles on the bed. “And maybe you,” Cora points to Derek, “will finally take a shower now and eat something more then a protein shake. You smell and look like shit bro. Wasn't that the whole issue with Eli before, your smell? What's so hard about a damn shower and a shave? Clean it up Stinky.”

Derek blushes at how thoroughly Cora has read him down to the floor, following her back when she turns and leaves the room. “Thanks Cor.”

Cora throws up a hand, “No problem, maybe now you can stop being such a weirdo that your not-boyfriend is back.”

Derek's pink blush deepens to a fully embarrassed, deep red, as Cora makes her sarcastic exit. Derek turns to Stiles to explain, she's just being obtuse, but he seems to be in his own world with Eli.

Stiles rolls onto his side completely ignoring the way his body screams for him not to. Ignores the way his bones press against his gaunt skin, just so he can see Eli. He reaches out with a shaky hand and places it on top of Eli's small warm body, daring to not even breath.

Sensing him, Eli immediately rouses from sleep and takes Stiles' thumb and pinky in his tiny fists, “Hey there Moonbeam,” Stiles coos, letting out his held breath, and is met with a garble of happy soft noises. He doesn't understand and single one but he knows instinctively that each of them are for him and him alone. His arm tingles with a warm energy as Eli holds his hand.

“He missed you,” Derek says softly placing his own hand on top of Stiles' sandwiching it to Eli.

Eli coos happily as if agreeing, and Stiles' face splits into wide and bright smile that looks so soft and warm on the sharp features of his skeletal face. Derek can't help wish he had placed that smile there, but holds no grudge that it's Eli that has Stiles' heart.

There's a quiet moment. Derek sitting next to the bed, Stiles in it next to his son, each of then connected for a moment that feels charged.

“You need to eat.” … “You should go shower.”

Derek and Stiles chuckle as they talk over each other, a nervous smile on each of their faces.

“You should go, let me stay here with my little Moonbeam before you are knighted Sir Stinky-Wolf.”

“It is not that bad,” Derek grumbles ready to argue his case, for putting it of until later.

“Derek it is potent!” Stiles replies, giving the air a brief sniff, Derek's scent is strong. It's necessarily body odor, not yet, and nothing like the scent he had the day Stiles first met him. It's the Alpha Musk, overpowering like someone drenched in colonge, it's not a bad scent...it's just so strong it makes you want to gag.

Derek looks wounded as he sniffs himself side to side, nosing at each of his armpits with his hands held high in the air. Stiles can't help but t roll his eyes, then something clicks in his brain...something he should have noticed before.

“Oh my god, you can't smell yourself!”

“Excuse me?” Derek's impressive brows furrow, drawing deep lines into his brow as he frowns.

“Yeah that's it, it makes so much sense now!”

Derek's brows lift quickly in confusion as Stiles becomes more excited with Eli babbling louder to match him, seeming to think that the entire thing is very funny.

“What does?” Derek groans dragging his fingers through his hair and trying to not look completely exasperated.

“You can't smell yourself! You're nose blind to your musk, that's why you never think it's that bad. Your scent is already everywhere you just smell more of you,” Stiles reaches for Derek's arm, “and I'm not judging, and I'm not trying to make a joke. I know you're balancing a lot and that things just get away from you. And I never meant to become something else that you had to worry about, but Derek, you're allowed to make time for yourself, even if life feels like a never ending crisis. You have to.”

“I-I know...you're right. I just never think of myself as a priority, I know I'll always have time for me...later. And for what it's worth I don't mind, worrying...'bout you,” Derek says softly.

Stiles meets the warm look in Derek's eyes and he knows he's telling the truth and Stiles isn't sure what to do with that at the moment, “Later is now, Big Guy, go take a damn shower. I'll be OK. Eli will be OK, and we'll both be right here when you come back I promise.”

Derek shakes his head with a a small grin, accepting his defeat.

*-*-*-

Twenty minutes later Derek pads back into the room, skin still warm and flushed from the shower, beads of water sliding from his damp hair down his shoulders and his beard once again trimmed back to a sandpaper stubble. He stops in his tracks, his bare chest visibly freezing on an inhale as he catches sight of Stiles and Eli in his bed.

Stiles is curled around Eli like pale serpent with his elfish nose pressed to the top Eli's head breathing softly. He has a dreamy smile on his face as he breaths in the scent of the sleeping pup next to him. They both look so still and so both look so soft, and tender and...

'Ours,' his wolf sing songs somewhere near his heart.

Derek shakes the thought away making more droplets rain down as his damp hair slaps across his forehead before he tousles it back with a tense hand. Stiles had never responded when Derek had asked him about making this his home. Even if he had agreed, it's not fair to make any claim to the younger wolf who had just agreed to be his friend. Derek resists the urge to crawl into his bed with them, to curl around Stiles and just settle in with them the way dust settles on abandoned furniture, softly, quietly, completely.

“There a reason you staring at me Creeper Wolf? You're getting the floor all wet,” Stiles never really opens his eyes and his voice is downy soft over Eli's scalp as it reaches Derek.

“I-uh, y-you looked, I thought you were a-asleep” Derek stammers, adjusting his towel a little higher on his hips and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You smell nice. Much better, like a sexy antique store,” Stiles smiles never opening his eyes to see the way Derek is fidgeting before he turns to his closet.

Derek trips mid step, as he hears the word “sexy”, and falls into his closet, with a hard **thump. Some apex predator he is. Stiles chuckles softly opening his eyes to see what happened.

Derek grunts, more so from the bruising of his ego than any real pain as he lifts himself up off of the ground only for his towel to fall off the second he's righted himself. He makes a mad grab for it in the dark of the closet, thankful to be under the cover of shadow, until he remembers...Stiles is also a wolf.

“Those are some crazy solid tan lines dude,” Stiles chuckles as he catches sight of Derek bent over in the dark. It's not so much that he was looking, it's just that the closet is located on the wall he was currently loooking at, and the sharp contrast of Derek's golden skin and the pale triangular shape from his swim briefs is distracting if not down right attention grabbing.

So really he can't be blamed.

Stiles' mouth goes dry and cottony as he looks a second too long and catches a glimpse of the dark hair nestled in the cleft of Derek's cheeks that doesn't seem to spread over them as well. It looks so soft, and welcoming and Stiles has to shut his eyes tight as he can't seem to keep from looking directly at it.

Derek stiffens, spine snapping him tall and upright, as he smells the spike of peppery arousal drift up from behind him. He clears his throat, trying to not seem affected by it and quickly steps into a black thong, before roughly pulling on some sweats and a white singlet, suddenly afraid to turn around and face Stiles for what he might say or look like.

“You really do always wear thongs.” Stiles chuckles having opened his eyes just to catch him stepping into one before pulling it into place on his lower back.

Derek turns, cheeks flushed (the ones on his face) trying to not look like a flustered mess, “You seem very alert now.”

Stiles shrugs, the bite of his arousal fainter but still in the air.

“You're gonna think I'm crazy,but holding Eli, getting his scent...it makes me feel...better, stronger.”

Derek's heart swells, “No not at all. Bonded wolves, can draw strength from each other...and you two are...”

“Connected,” Stiles finishes smiling down at Eli, “definitely connected and I think I'm more than OK with that.”

“Me too,” Derek smiles, his eyes threatening to tear up as he lingers a bit closer. He can't help but note the bitter taste on his tongue, some ugly part of his heart is jealous. Jealous that Eli can so easily win the other wolf's heart, when that's all he wants. Thankfully the bigger part of him is happy, overjoyed to the point of tears that someone else loves his son so much.

Derek sniffles.

“I should let you get some more rest, real rest, but when you wake up you're gonna have to eat for me OK?” Derek turns to leave the room with an easy smile, turning back for one last glance at Stiles wrapped around his son in his bed...like they belong there.

“Stay?”

It's so soft Derek nearly misses it, thinks that he might have imagined it or willed it into his own ears, but his eyes meet Stiles' and...

“Stay with me?” Stiles repeats shyly, if his body would allow it, he would be blushing, but his cheeks stay cool and pale. However his eyes are melted pools of chocolate and well Derek has always had a sweet tooth...could he even resist if he wanted to?

Derek turns to face him fully, pulse quickening as he holds that warm gaze with his own, “You want me to stay?”

Stiles nods as Derek crosses the floor and takes his seat next to the bed where he had spent the last several days, nearly unmoving.

“ Actually I was kind of hoping you'd uh...” Stiles seems flustered, the center of his brows drawn towards his hairline.

“What? I'll do whatever you need, just tell me what it is,” Derek reaches out to place a warm hand on his forearm, thumbing over the soft skin there.

Stiles jerks his head toward the space on the bed behind him, “If it's OK?”

Derek rises, his heart hammering so quickly his ears start to ring as his blood pressure rises instantly. He crawls up from the foot of the bed, gently slides his body under the covers, his feet brushing next to Stiles' as he lays his head on the pillow behind him.

“You can...scoot closer,” Stiles says with an edge of nervousness.

Derek immediately scoots in closer, so close he's almost touching, but making sure there's a thin line of space between their bodies, a boundary he makes sure to keep. Derek's skin vibrates, being this close to Stiles is pulling his wolf up, as it whines to close that last little gap. “This OK?” Derek asks, pushing back at his wolf.

Stiles slowly reaches back behind himself and catches Derek by the wrist and awkwardly drags his arm over his waist which forces Derek to close the gap and nestle in close and tight to Stiles' bare back, the tip of his nose pressed into the smaller man's neck.

“This OK?” Stiles asks as he laces his thin skeletal fingers with Derek's. Derek can feel the smaller man's heartbeat, racing, matching his own.

Derek goes to answer back, but his voice escapes him, along with most of his higher functioning brain as his wolf purrs against all the points of contact between them in particular the bare skin of Derek's arm draped over Stiles uncovered waist. “Mmhmm.”

“Good,” Stiles smiles, and even thought Derek can't see it he knows it's there, and that in some part he made it happen. “Danny said that I should give this thing between us a chance, and I think that we should but for now can we start just a-as friends. Friends are allowed to cuddle right or is this weird, too fast?”

“Danny?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, he came to me. While I was asleep(?) or away (?). We got to talk, I got to say goodbye...and he knew about you. Said you had called him.”

Derek goes still, “And it helped you?” he doesn't even need to question if it's real or not, he senses no lies or confusion in Stiles.

“Yeah, it did. And he thinks you're hot by the way.”

Derek smiles, a small laugh escaping him in the process, his warm breath tickling the back of Stiles' neck making the small hairs there stand on end, “Well friends can definitely cuddle, to answer your question.”

Derek tightens his arm around Stiles and squeezes his hand, “Especially if your ghost ex gave us his blessing. I mean he thinks I'm hot so he wouldn't blame you right?” Derek nuzzles along the back of Stiles' hairline, more intent to tickle that stimulate him.

“You're stupid,” Stiles chuckles shaking his head from side to side to discourage Derek, “but you're also warm and safe...and I think I need that right now...will you stay with me tonight?”

“Of course I will, what are friends for.”

The three wolves quickly fall asleep connected and smiling, without another word spoken and sleep through the night.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks fly by after that night. Turns out going into a near comatose state, not eating for over a week and then reliving your memories in some alternate-mystical-brain-dimension take it out of you. It helps that Derek is for lack of a better term doting on Stiles every want and need (not that Derek minds or would call it such).

Neither of them have really discussed what they are passed friends, but it's clear with the stolen looks the other doesn't catch, the lingering touches and the happy scents that each of them give off when they are I close quarters that they are something. Derek lets Stiles take over the guest room...or not so much let him as much as he brought over the few belongings he owned and filled the rest of the room with things he thought he would enjoy and called it Stiles'.

“But my apartment,” Stiles had protested the first day.

“Is still yours when and if you need it, you have my word,” Derek promises and that is the end of that worry and Stiles can't find another reason to protest.

Stiles still fusses when Derek adds things to his room though, but he always caves the second he sees the barest hint of a frown forming on Derek's face. It's unfair really, Stiles thinks, that Derek is so devastatingly handsome to begin with, with his square jaw, magnificent brows and his signature stoic expression its sinful. How the hell does he stand a chance at ever telling this wolf no.

To his credit, even though he hasn't realsied it yet, Derek has never once told Stiles no either (and no plans to do so at any point). Since that night they've become two big dumb satellites constantly pulled in and circling each other, never quite crashing into each other but the promise of that inevitability is ever present. It doesn't feel so bad for Stiles to think it might happen, to think there might be a chance at something here..it's nice to feel safe and hopeful and doted on.

So first comes a Switch and his own tv, then a collection of vintage comics Marvel and DC, band t shirts, Pokemon plushes, X-files dvd box sets...every evening when Derek's mail gets delivered Stiles knows that Derek is about to walk into his room with this wide goofy grin that shows off his slightly too large front teeth, which makes his heart melt as a new gift is sat within reach. Today its shoes.

“Shoes?” Stiles asks confused as he knits his brows together.

“Yep,” Derek beams ignoring the confusion.

There's a beat of silence, “We're going on a walk.”

Stiles deflates, sagging into his mattress and covering his face with his hands like a small child instantly, “But I don't wanna...”

Derek like any good father, or any good Stiles handler, which he is quickly becoming, gets down to his level and speaks slow and soft, “Stiles its been almost a month since you've used your legs...your muscles are going to start to atrophy if they haven't already. You're a wolf so you'll recover faster, but only once you start using them. Do you wanna be carried around forever?”

Stiles lifts a few fingers to peer over at Derek, the rest of his fingers covering most of his face. “You're tired of carrying me already?” Stiles asks. It's partially a joke, but Derek hears the hint of truth and vulnerability beneath the shy teasing smile he sees just the corner of.

“Not at all, I will happily keep carrying you, but I was hoping if you're walking by the next Full moon we can go on a run?”

Stiles' wolf stirs restlessly in his chest, it's been so long...he hasn't ran since...

He whines high and soft in the back of his throat, Derek Smiles, got him.

After an outfit change involving Derek doing most of the work and tying Stiles new shoes on, they take the elevator down to the ground floor. Stiles wobbles out of it on shaky legs, like a baby deer that's just been dropped into the world thankfully with Derek a calming presence just an arms reach away with Eli in hand.

“Here I need you to do something for me,” Derek produces a baby sling and wraps is around Stiles' torso with a gentle ease as he ignores the bewildered look hes receiving.

“No...wait...Derek,” Stiles protests, but somehow Eli is instantly secured to his chest babbling excitedly about being attached to his favourite person. Any protests Stiles was about to follow up with, die the instant Eli babbles at him. If anyone has been excited about the new arrangement of Stiles being a new constant in the loft its Eli and he's not subtle about letting them know.

Eli nuzzles into Stiles' soft cotton Batman t, his tiny eyes glowing yellow with happiness and recognition. Stiles eyes light up briefly in response as he feels the tether of their bond that's become more solid the following weeks, his wolf responds to Eli with a surge of protectiveness rising up that also seems to steady his shaking legs.

“This is a dirty trick,” Stiles announces even with the next few steps feeling easier than the ones before. His muscles still protest, feeling stiff and unwilling, while his joints all feel too loose, as if he might crumple to the ground at any second, but the bonds feeds him stamina and strength as he continues forward. He cradles Eli's head in his right palm as he watches his feet as if they are a foreign body and he doesn't trust either of them.

“Not really, you seem to do everything a little quicker when Eli is next to you,” Derek smiles disarming him, “plus I know you're gonna fight like hell not to fall with Eli strapped to you.”

Stiles wobbles throwing out his left hand for balance, Derek takes it smoothly without a second thought and falls in step with him. If Stiles was disarmed before he's dumbstruck now...

“I wasn't gonna fall,” Stiles frowns at the taller man but it lacks any real scorn and for some ungodly reason that makes Derek smile.

'Jesus when this guy smiles,' Stiles thinks to himself as the evening sun reflects off of his teeth.

“I know. I just wanted to hold your hand,” Derek says and Stiles doesn't catch a lie in his tone.

Stiles' knees feel weak and unsteady for two reasons now, but he also has twice as many reasons to not look like a damn fool. Correction, he has twice as many reasons to not look like a damn falling fool. He can't do much to avoid being a fool in other ways...that's just who he is.

The three wolves make their way around the perimeter of the apartment complex, which is much further than it looks. “We have a pool here?” Stiles asks as they round the edge of it.

“We do,” Derek smiles, “Did you not notice it before? Would you want to come swim when you're stronger, it's heated too?”

Stiles nods, “I didn't and I would like that. I was so worried about a place to stay I never came to this side of the building before today. It doesn't seem to fit industrial look of the building though.”

Derek nods, “You're right, it was added. Not by me. When I bought the building it had already been dug out and poured and most of the floors had been divided into lofts. I just finished it and helped the previous owner out of a bit of debt.”

“Do you even make a profit on this place?”

“Nope, don't need to, as long as I break even that's all I need,” Derek has a proud smile as he gives Stiles' hand a squeeze as he turns to squint up at the older man.

“Are you ever gonna tell me exactly how rich you are? Like just a ballpark figure.”

Derek makes a zipping motion over his lips, “Enough that I don't need to worry or work on anything I don't want to. And it allows me to rent to people more so based on need than credit or deposits. I like helping, I got blessed with security and wealth I feel like I'm supposed to share that.”

Again Stiles hears no lie and it makes his stomach flutter. Here's Derek, hot dad, philanthropist, Alpha werewolf...like could he be any sexier...oh and also rich. Not that Stiles really cares about money, he kinda grew up with less than others, but it definitely doesn't make Derek any less attractive. A Sexy Landlord, feels like something that shouldn't exist but here his is and fuck hes hot and staring.

“What about that made your heart race?” Derek asks leaning a little closer until their shoulders touch, Eli asleep in the sling.

Stiles blushes, his cheeks spotting instantly, “Uh-well,” he stammers, “Just that...you're hot and sweet y'know? And you want to do good, no, are doing good with your wealth. You're a total Sugarwolf and I'm kinda into it.”

Derek chuckles, mostly to himself, “Is that like a sugar daddy?”

“No, no, no,” Stiles blurts and trips I his excitement. Derek catches him, spinning Stiles so that they're facing each other with Eli squished the tiniest bit between their bodies. Very much a prince charming moment and fuck if that doesn't make things the tiniest bit harder.

Derek scents Stiles, the salt of his sweat from the effort of walking, his natural scent of warm grass and sunflowers, and the peppery spike of arousal filling his flared nostrils. Stiles can't seem to look away from Derek's lips and the smell of his toothpaste which he never thought of as erotic before now.

“Then what's it like?” Derek smirks enjoying the flash of panic in Stiles' eyes.

“I-It's like you're this big tough Alpha werewolf on the outside, with this permanent sexy kind of grumpy scowl, but inside you're like a total marshmallow.”

“I have a permanent sexy scowl?” Derek's smirk grows sharper as he cocks a single brow, “Marshmallow?”

Stiles laughs nervously, “Did I mention that I have a sweet tooth?”

Derek nods, “And did I mention that I have a weak spot for stubborn, mouthy wolves?”

Stiles groans, his forehead glistening in a sheen of sweat, suddenly standing feels overwhelming, his knees buckle under him. Derek notices and instantly supports him as if he weighs nothing like catching him is second nature. Derek realizes he could spend a lifetime catching this dork.

“You ok?” Derek asks, concern pulling at his features.

“Yeah. I think maybe I need to focus on the walking and not so much the flirting.”

“You were flirting?” Derek teases, making sure Stiles knees are supporting him before he releases him.

Stiles clutches Eli as he gives a shy kind of chuckle that reaches down to his toes, “Ass.”

They make their way back towards the lift, Stiles becoming more unsteady with every step, Derek notices and takes Eli to ease his balance.

“Thanks,” Stiles pants leaning on a wall for support as the distance from there to the lift doors suddenly feels insurmountable.

Derek shifts the baby sling to his back with Eli in it, who fusses for a brief second before settling again, then picks up Stiles bridal style and walks him back to the lift then to the loft never once setting him down. Stiles should feel...embarrassed...maybe even a little ashamed, but instead he feels safe as Derek kicks the loft door shut and carries him to his room.

Derek sets him down on his bed, “Wait right here.”

Stiles watches as Derek strides quickly from the room, returning shortly Eli free, “Nap time,” he says softly, “How are you feeling?”

Stiles grimaces, “You lied.”

“What?” Derek's face drops.

“You said...I'd heal...quicker,” Stiles says through clenched teeth.

Derek sits down on the bed and cups the side of Stiles' face gently, feeling how warm and damp his skin is, “I meant over time, quicker than a human, but not in a single day. You're not healing a cut or a stab or a even broken bone. Your body is trying reset itself after being starved and immobile for so long, it still needs time. I might also be to blame, slowing it down by not trying to push you into survival mode, but after everything you've endured I want to pamper you. You deserve good things Stiles.” Derek's smile is warm and soft as he strokes Stiles' cheek gently with his thumb.

Stiles' goes to protest but Derek's final words have his throat tightening and suddenly his tongue feels too large for his mouth and the room might have tilted or spun, he's not sure. Derek is so good, so calm, so patient in a way that's almost frustrating to him and Stiles realises that if he wasn't before he's absolutely falling for him. He had wanted to wait until he was better, more himself, on equal ground, but Derek is making it impossible.

It's like gravity, a pull at the core of him that he not only doesn't want to fight but he's not even sure that he could. It's what had made Derek so triggering to begin with, this pull that felt undeniable...hell he walked into a strange Alpha's loft to offer childcare for fuck's sake, and now that Alpha who should feel dangerous and lethal and make every instinct in him want to run is holding his face.

'Fuck his hand,' Stiles thinks.

It's large and warm and rough in the most perfect way, like he's worked hard but also knows to moisturise. It's so gentle on his skin right now that he can't imagine this being the hand of a predator, a wolf, meant to rend, and crush and destroy...maybe that's why it's so hot, maybe that's why the flush in his skin isn't just from his discomfort anymore and why his pheromones are blooming in his sweat now, turning it sweet and peppered.

It's a perfect storm, the gravity, the care, his smile, the warmth of him this close, that perfect fucking man hand so when Stiles lets his body react it feels perfectly reasonable natural even to do what he does. The only person that seems to be shocked when he turns his head and sucks Derek's thumb into his mouth is Derek, the man attached to said thumb.

“Shit,” Derek gasps, nearly choking on the word as Stiles clamps his teeth gently on the second knuckle of his thumb and swirls his wet, warm tongue around the length of it as if it's...well...not a thumb. It's not like his bite is strong, not like Derek couldn't pull away, but that's the last thing on his mind as he sits there utterly bewitched.

Stiles closes his eyes and whimpers as he feels Derek press his thumb down on his tongue and lets his jaw drop open with the gentle force. Derek peers into his mouth and watches his thumb being cradled by Stiles' tongue and he fucking growls !

Stiles makes some kind of pathetic noise as his cock seems to instantly harden, almost comically in his boxers, making him lift his knees towards himself to hide it. Derek doesn't miss this movement and with his free hand pins his knees to the bed so he can now see the obvious tent in Stiles' pants as he sniffs out his pheromones as they spike the air between them. Stiles looks down to the same point on his body that Derek's eyes are fixed to unable to keep his erection from twitching inside his pants and when they both look up Derek's irises are RED ...

“Fuck!” Stiles inhales.

Eli begins to wail down the hallway...

“Fuck!” Derek growls.

There's a pause, an unwillingness to disconnect for just a second. Derek draws back his thumb slowly and Stiles kisses the pad of it, “Go,” he smiles as Derek rises from the bed exposing the sizable bulge in his own pants, that had been obscured by his position, Stiles' smile becomes a devilish smirk at the sight, “Fuck!”

Derek hearing him turns one last time as he exits adjusting himself, eyes still brilliantly red, frustrated and hungry, “Yeah...fuck.”

Stiles reclines into the bed, shamelessly palming himself through his pants, Derek's last look burning into his memory like a brand until he slumps to the side falling asleep with a big dopey grin and a hand around his denim clad erection.

Derek returns shortly after he drifts off, his simmering arousal melting instantly to a warm puddle of affection as he spies the slack jawed grin, the hand on his crotch and the lingering scent of Stiles' arousal. He enters quietly sure to not wake him and kisses his temple with causes Stiles to snicker in his dreams then Derek leaves just as quietly.

“God I think I love him,” Derek says to himself and walks out of the room and towards the kitchen.

***-***-***

The next few days things kept improving. Stiles got stronger, he cleared his plate for the first time at breakfast, he played with Eli on the couch until they both fell asleep holding each other. There were more walks, more flirting, nothing as intimate as the thumb incident but there were other moments.

When Derek helped Stiles to the shower he might have lingered a bit more than he did the week before, Stiles managed to steal a dirty shirt from the laundry basket to keep Derek's scent close by in his bed when all he wanted to do was go crawl into his, Derek made sure to always have a desert with dinner once he discovered the little noises that Stiles made when he really likes something (innocent but obscene), and Stiles kept finding ways to get Derek to touch him with his hands which turned out to be very easy.

On Tuesday Stiles said his feet hurt after their walk and earned a massage while they watched the X-Files in his room, on Wednesday he complained of being cold and managed to get Derek to hold him to his side and rub his arms to warm him up...he may have deliberately let himself fall asleep on Derek's shoulder and be carried to bed...or not, and Thursday Stiles said he slept on his neck wrong and when Derek worked his fingers under the base of his skull after breakfast Stiles nearly came in his pants at the table.

It was a game to both of them, creating this ephemeral tension between them like the iridescent shell of a bubble. They both knew that it would pop eventually, but part of the game was not knowing when and the excitement of knowing exactly how things would heat up once they did.

Eli not understanding the nature of the tension, became more and more of a ham. He became happier, louder (in a good way), more curious and interactive as if he were growing a bit more rapidly in the new environment the two wolves created around him. Some of it surely was just the natural progression of his age, but Derek even noted how far past his developmental check-marks Eli was, with a proud smirk after returning from a doctors visit. What they were building was special.

***-***-***

“The pack is excited to meet you,” Derek calls out softly from the kitchen as Stiles sits on the couch in the adjoining living room with Eli in his lap. Stiles pauses a brief tug of war for his Bulbasaur plush Eli had become attached to to look up (it was Eli's now anyways).

There a beat of silence that lasted too long, “You nervous?” Derek asks his warm hazel eyes scanning Stiles' body language from across the counter.

“No.”

“Liar,” Derek smiles playfully.

“Am not,” Stiles pouts and Eli blows a raspberry at his father in agreement waving his plush in a mock threat. “Or at least not for the reason you think.” he fidgets with the back of Eli's shirt collar and Derek let's the silence draw out.

“Will you tell me? If there's something I can do to make this more fun instead of scary...I want to,” Derek has rounded the corner and leans, with his arms crossed over his chest, on the counter facing Stiles more directly now.

Derek is in white again, and Stiles has a very big weakness for how Derek looks in white, broad and so clearly defined and his nipples were always so prominent.

FUCK!

“What do they know about me? Not the-my past, but us? What did you say we are?” Stiles looks up and his eyes are so uncertain and quiet, but Derek doesn't even take a beat to answer him.

“That you're someone special to me and special to Eli. That I want you to be a part of all aspects of my life and that we're still figuring out what that means for us. I also asked them to consider accepting you into the pack as I would very much like to.”

Stiles goes quiet again, but Derek can see all the thoughts behind his eyes, Eli grabs his nose with a small hand and pulls. They both try not to laugh which seems to be extra hilarious to Eli.

“But you're the Alpha,” Stiles states like it's a question more so than a fact.

“I am, and I will have final say but every wolf and pack member has a voice especially if we expand.”

“So they could reject me...an Omega...an outsider and a bitten wolf,” Stiles says in a measured tone.

“There are bitten wolves in my pack, and you're obviously not a threat if you're staying with me so no one cares you're an Omega. Actually you're holding what is likely your golden ticket right now...Eli.”

“Eli?”

“Yep,” Derek grins, “I have kind of kept the pack away while I figured all of this out, being a single dad, having a kid, and you. So they are desperate to bond with him, and he's closest to you, maybe even more than me.”

“Derek that's not...” Stiles starts but Derek cuts him off with a raised hand.

“It is, and I'm not mad about. Someone abandoned Eli, he didn't have a choice when Jackson left, but he chose to bond with you...that's special to him and to me. It kinda makes up for what happened even if he never remembers that time, he knows he's loved and he knows he gets to pick who loves him.”

Stiles holds up a giggling Eli as if he's confirming every single one of Derek's words and Stiles' heart feels overflowing, “I could get used to you Hale men choosing me.” He blushes as soon as he realises what he said out loud, maneuvering Eli's wriggling body to block Derek's view of his face as he curses internally.

'Shit, shit, shit.'

Derek smiles and crosses the room in two strides, he gently pulls Eli out of Stiles' grasp, and leans down into his personal space with a matching blush. Stiles looks up, and catches sight of his blush, catches sight of his two front teeth just half a size too large, and those hazel eyes just as the pupils expand wide and dark, and then...

“Oomph.”

Stiles is pressed into the couch with a large hand splayed over his chest as Derek presses their mouths together in a warm languid kiss. Eli is held out to his side as he keeps balance with his other hand on Stiles' chest, Eli coos happily in Derek's arm as if enjoying the budding romance he's at he center of.

Derek smells like garlic and butter form cooking dinner with a hint of red wine on his lips and suddenly Stiles remembers he didn't brush his teeth today and oh god Derek knows now! It should be odd, silly, maybe even a little gross, but it's their first kiss and it feels perfect, like the bubble has finally popped and every weird ass thing that happened so far was heading to this moment. Derek hums into the kiss and Stiles parts his lips and Eli babbles and...

There's a knock.

**bang bang bang

It's loud and demanding, Derek breaks the kiss and hands Eli back to Stiles with a bemused smile, “Hold that thought,” He moves towards the door as the person on the other side bangs again. Stiles feels a cold dread enter his stomach as Derek turns to face him with an apologetic smile before he opens the door.

The door opens and it's as if a vacuum was waiting on the other side, the loft goes quiet . Not just the normal calm of night time routines or the pause of the TV, but the quiet that comes when a new predator enters the woods and all the wildlife goes quiet as it assesses it. Stiles holds his breath and even Eli goes quiet and rigid in his arms matching him.

Stiles can only see Derek's back from where he sits, he's broad enough to obscure whomever is in front of him entirely blocking them from sight. He's tense, his white shirt thin enough that Stiles can watch his spine straighten out to full height and the muscles of his shoulders ripple in preparation (for what?)

' What the fuck gets an Alpha on alert like this?' Stiles thinks.

Stiles catches sight of Derek's claws popping as he flexes a hand at his side and he knows that who ever is here is bad news.

“Jackson,” Derek addresses the hidden figure...right before all hell breaks loose.