Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Year 2026

Stiles ran over in worry to the alpha as he roared from a severe injury.

“Shit!” the human cursed as he continued running desperately toward the center of the conflict.

The darkness of the moonless night set the eerie stage for a catastrophic war unfolding around him, where everything was engulfed in chaos, death, and flames.

His friends, family, and acquaintances were dying one by one under the invasion of creatures that at first appeared to be simple dragonflies with emerald, green wings and eyes.

And after a ritual performed by a twisted and malevolent person like the hunter Kate Argent, they ended up becoming the executioners of an entire city, with her being one of the first to die at the hands of these new beings that were now slowly spreading across the world.

A scratch from their poisoned claws meant a painful and agonizing death, regardless of whether you were a supernatural being or human. The only difference was the time it took for them to die.

As best he could, Stiles dodged the horrifying and numerous creatures of enormous, amorphous size, with sharp claws and fierce, soulless eyes—invincible, immortal beings whose only goal was to kill everything in their path.

Stiles’ skill had developed to the point where he was completely capable of going unnoticed. Being the most agile and fastest, he could dodge them one by one without any problem.

In the midst of an unexpected battle, Derek was injured by the claws of the monsters that attacked simultaneously.

Stiles managed to distract them with a homemade bottle bomb and was able to rescue the werewolf.

Both ran toward the only place still standing in the entire city of Beacon Hills.

The Hale vault, at the school.

With the human’s help, the wolf was able to sink his claws into the entrance and make his way inside.

The structure was damaged, but it was enough for two people who had been living there for a considerable time, as it contained basic items like sleeping blankets, some essential kitchen supplies, potions, and everything they could salvage that might be useful for survival.

Stiles made him sit down while he searched the shelves for the things needed to start treating his wound.

The cut looked deep and advanced in its necrosis, as a strange black substance mixed with greenish pus oozed from the wound.

“Leave it, Stiles…”

“Shut up and let me heal you.” Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat as his glassy eyes filled with tears. “I told you not to go… You’re an idiot…” His voice sounded broken, and he tried with all his might not to sob while treating him.

“You know it has no cure…”

“No. You don’t know that.”

“Stiles… The nine herbs don’t work… Nothing works once the dragonfly venom enters your system… you know that…”

“I survived the cut… You will too.”

Derek’s grip on the human’s wrist loosened, and, extending his hand with a weak movement, he traced the mark on the brunette’s neck with his fingertips, in the shape of claws that now appeared pinkish and old.

“Just… come here…” He gave a small, weary smile. He had a high fever, though he looked pale and was sweating coldly.

Stiles shook his head, biting his lower lip until it bled.

“Don’t do this to me, Sourwolf… You’re all I have left… You can’t… just leave me…” He couldn’t help but sob as he continued covering the wound futilely with the potion, his hands trembling.

“Stiles… Please…” The gentle plea of the werewolf shattered his soul into pieces.

Seeing Derek so fragile was killing him.

The human closed his eyes, letting his tears fall, as he sat between the werewolf’s legs, hugging him and burying his face in his neck.

Derek let out a small huff as he wrapped his arms around the human, cradling him.

When it all began, they faced the problem as a pack, but due to their lack of knowledge about how lethal and urgent the situation was, they died one by one.

But after thorough investigation and much bloodshed, he discovered the truth.

Kate Argent had stolen something important before setting fire to the Hale mansion—the first emerald dragonfly.

And apparently, the only thing he could find out thanks to a vision from Lydia was that the one obtained was from Derek Hale… The problem is that the werewolf either didn’t remember or was completely unaware that the first emerald dragonfly was among his family’s heirlooms…

The vision wasn’t clear; it only pointed to Derek as the one responsible.

A brick more in the wall of guilt that had built up in the heavy heart of the werewolf, even though he didn’t exactly know how it had happened in the first place…

They researched every book, asked all their contacts, and there was no way to find a cure. They even tried to find a way to contain the dragonfly invasion, but they were impossible to defeat or capture.

Months passed, and everything fell to pieces; the world had become a battlefield, and tragedy was the daily bread.

Except for Stiles, the only living being who survived certain death at the claws of these creatures. But there was no longer a Deaton or a Lydia to help him find a cure, using him as a guinea pig.

This revelation had come later than it should have, and Stiles couldn’t help but blame himself for it.

For months, it had been just the two of them against the world, surviving as a team, watching each other’s backs.

The months turned into years, forming a bond that had always had the potential to be more than it was in the beginning.

“I liked you from the moment I saw you in the forest… did you know?” Stiles said, brushing his lover’s neck with the tip of his nose.

“Yes, your arousal could be smelled from miles away.” Derek stroked the brown-haired man’s hair smoothly, a small, amused smile on his face.

“In my defense, I was a hormone-driven teenager who, thanks to you, discovered that girls weren’t the only thing on the menu.”

“Don’t blame me, you were an unbearable brat.”

“I’m adorable.”

“I’ll correct myself—you’re unbearable.”

“Oh come on, Sourwolf… I know it took you a while to realize it because you’re a bit slow, and the end of the world had to happen too… but you finally realized that you love me, unbearable and all.” Stiles bit his lower lip, trying to smile, but his glassy eyes showed just how hard this was for him.

Derek cupped his cheeks and kissed him gently. “That’s true.”

“If you weren’t literally dying, I’d ask if you’re feeling okay.” Stiles rested his hand on the wolf’s, leaning into his touch.

“I was also attracted to you… maybe not as graphically as you were at first, but I always felt that… I don’t know… we had a different kind of bond. We weren’t friends, but we were a pack. By the time I realized it, you had already gotten under my skin, and I was trusting you in a ridiculously deep way, making you my anchor…”

Derek gently pressed his forehead against the humans, and he let out a small sob followed by a smile.

“Then… why didn’t you come looking for me?”

“I… couldn’t do to you what Kate did to me… When you became an adult, I intended to talk to you… But I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t…”

“…Whatever you would have said, I would have said yes, silly wolf…”

“You don’t know that—sexual attraction isn’t always what makes you connect with someone…”

“So this is your way of basically telling me that I don’t attract you and that you only want a platonic relationship?”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t have done it on every available surface in this horrible vault and in all the places we went…”

“Nice memories…” Stiles closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”

“You’re going to heal… Because you’re Derek Hale, you always find a way to cheat death, no matter what…”

“Not this time… I’m a little tired, darling…”

Stiles kept his eyes closed, squeezing his eyelids slightly as tears rolled down his cheeks and disappeared along the edge of his jaw.

“Derek… don’t joke about those things, they’re in poor taste, man.” he sobbed.

“Look at me,” the werewolf requested.

Stiles opened his eyes and looked into his eyes—the same ones that now gazed at him with adoration and tenderness.

Derek gently cupped his cheeks and stroked his cheekbones with his thumbs, wiping away the traces of tears.

“I love you.”

“No.”

“Please…”

“We won’t say ‘I love you’ like some disgusting goodbye. Rot, Derek.” Stiles shook his head, biting his lip and sobbing.

“I’m sorry for not telling you more often…”

“Then live, and tell me every day from now on…” Stiles looked at him pleadingly.

Derek was breathing above him; he didn’t have much time left, and they both knew it.

“I’ve always liked your name more than your nickname… Although I know… Your mother was the only one with the privilege of calling you that… Can I call you Mica?”

“I’ll let you call me that in the morning, big guy…” Stiles held the werewolf’s hands.

“…Let’s… have children… With your eyes, nose, and intelligence… and my… last name…” Derek was delirious.

Stiles’ smile looked just as broken as his heart. He stroked his hair, leaning the older man’s body toward his own so he could rest his face on his shoulder, holding him tighter in an embrace.

“How would we name them?” The human’s voice was broken.

“Eli… for a boy… Talia or Claudia for a girl… D… does that… sound… good to you?” he asked, at the peak of his fevered delirium.

“That sounds beautiful, my love…”

Derek, sounding tired, said, “Kiss me.”

Stiles gently nudged him and kissed him softly on the lips.

“Don’t cry too much…”

“I won’t make you promises I can’t keep…”

“I love you, Mica…” the wolf whispered with his last breath.

“And I love you, Sourwolf…” Stiles’ voice broke completely, as his muffled sobs shattered the last of his spirit while he held his lover’s body in his arms.

Thick tears traced the same path down his cheeks without stopping, as the sound of the rain accompanied the bitter, painful cries of the village’s last survivor.

Minutes passed, hours, days—Stiles no longer cared. He didn’t stop stroking his beloved’s hair, who lay dead in his arms. He had nothing left in this world.

“Well, look at that… The last living human…” a voice spoke beside him.

But Stiles didn’t even turn around—what was the point? If he had to die, so be it; he didn’t have a single damn reason left to keep breathing. If a supernatural being wanted to tear his heart out, he would gladly open his arms.

“Hey… I’m talking to you…”

The creature leapt gracefully in front of him to get his attention, perching on a shelf to reach his height. It was a black cat with bright violet eyes.

“Oh… I see… Your friend died.”

“He’s not my friend…” The brown-haired man’s voice was so hoarse it could be mistaken for a growl.

How long had it been since he’d spoken? He didn’t even remember the last word he had uttered… Was he already dead? How much longer until he would die?

The cat tilted its head. “Was this wolf your companion?” it asked with genuine curiosity, but without malice.

Stiles didn’t answer.

“This world is a mess… The dragonflies have taken over everything, infecting both the human world and the supernatural world…” The cat began to walk along the shelf, but received no response from the freckled man in front of him.

“Tell me, human… if there’s a chance to save the world, would you take it?”

Stiles looked at him, his eyes empty and his face gaunt and exhausted. He was despair personified.

“…There’s no one left to save…”

“Maybe not now… but perhaps you could prevent it if I take you to the past.”

Stiles’ dead eyes showed a faint glimmer of interest. “The past?”

The cat ascended.

“With the little power I have left, I could take you to the origin of all this, boy, so you can prevent it…”

“Who are you?”

“I am Sand, the guardian of the seven Nemed trees. I protect the balance of the world.”

“Well, what a guardian…” Stiles replied sharply, unrestrained. “Why decide to show up only now?” A man with nothing left to lose could have a tongue sharper than a hunter’s dagger.

The cat laughed. “I don’t intend to explain my duties to a human, especially since you wouldn’t be able to understand them.”

“Then you’re just a charlatan.”

The cat’s eyes glowed an even brighter violet.

“I simply have more important matters to attend to… so, are you going to do it or not?”

“What’s the catch?” Stiles squinted, suspicious.

“No catch. It’s a one-way trip—there’s no return. And if you succeed, it’s likely you’ll vanish along with any trace of your existence in this time. Are you okay with that?”

Stiles stared at him silently for a few seconds. Then he lowered his gaze toward the man who seemed to be “sleeping” in his arms.

“Will I be able to save him?” he asked, not taking his eyes off his lover.

“If everything goes well, yes… So, what do you say we finalize the details, boy?”

“Let’s do it.”

Chapter Text

Stiles had his eyes closed, but he was already beginning to gain more awareness of himself, feeling as if he were lying on a pile of tree leaves.

He slowly opened his eyelids, and his eyes had a faint purple glow before returning to their usual color.

The full moon hung in the middle of the sky, just like him, sleeping in the forest.

He sat up and looked at his hands, noticing that they were much smaller than he remembered.

He had regained his youthful appearance, though he had no idea how old he was.

Maybe around ten or eleven years old…

Okay… maybe Sand made a miscalculation…

“What the he—…?” he murmured, dumbfounded.

Then he heard a noise and turned quickly, seeing a teenager with black hair, sage-green eyes, and a green plaid shirt looking at him, somewhat confused.

“Where did you come from?” the teenager asked warily.

Stiles didn’t need to look twice to recognize the young face in front of him. He had seen it in person once before when Kate had returned him to that age…

He couldn’t help but smile slightly with relief. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the exact age. It had worked. He had really done it. He was careful to maintain his self-control so as not to leap onto the teenager.

Alright… now it was his turn to give his best to fix everything that was wrong, starting with the life of Derek Hale.

The brown-haired, freckled boy crossed his arms arrogantly, pouting slightly.

“What do you mean, ‘where did I come from?’ From my mom, of course,” he replied haughtily.

The teenage wolf frowned.

And oh… the eyebrow-Spanish language was one he spoke perfectly, especially during the time he spent most with Derek in the middle of the apocalypse.

“This is private property,” the older one grumbled.

Déjà vu… The younger one just raised an eyebrow playfully, a small ironic smile on his face.

“Really…?” he asked, his tone dripping with clear mockery.

“Do you even know what private property is?” Derek crossed his arms, mimicking the human.

Little arrogant pup. Stiles wanted to laugh, but he managed to hide it very well.

“It’s the right a person has to enjoy and manage their property within the limits established by law,” Stiles replied casually. After all, he still retained his FBI knowledge, yes, including the legal stuff.

Derek raised both eyebrows in astonishment, nearly causing the brown-haired boy to burst out laughing. He needed a picture of that expression to make it his new phone wallpaper.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Stiles.”

“What’s a Stiles?” Derek frowned and tilted his head.

The human smiled slightly.

“I am a Stiles.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why are you here? How old are you?” Derek regained his composure.

Stiles thought for a moment and then shrugged.

“What’s the date?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Just because.”

Derek made a grimace.

“January twenty-second.”

“Year?”

“You’re really weird.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and gave him the “just answer” look, a trademark of adult Derek Hale.

“2003.”

After a brief silence, during which Stiles processed the information and mentally assessed his circumstances, he couldn’t help but let out a prolonged, drawn-out “Shiiiit…”—once again astonishing the teenage wolf.

It was three days after his mother had died from the illness. Sand had really sent him far away.

—Hey… is that how you speak to your elders, boy?—

Stiles stayed thoughtful for a little longer and then walked toward him with both hands in his red hoodie.

—Can I use your phone?—

—Why should I? You’re a stranger. You don’t inspire any trust in me, and I’m increasingly convinced that you’re not normal.—Derek frowned.

—Normal is boring… And I need the phone because apparently, I’m a lost minor, duh… By the way, you didn’t introduce yourself.—Stiles remarked casually, keeping the sentence as ambiguous as possible so that the lie in his heartbeat wouldn’t be noticed.

He knew exactly who the boy standing in front of him was, but if he called him by name without him saying anything first, it would be weird.

The teenager looked at him warily.

—Derek.—

Stiles looked at him and nodded.

—Alright, could you take me to your house now that we’re no longer strangers to each other?—

—I still don’t know who you are.—the dark-haired boy narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

—I think you know exactly who I am.—the human shrugged.

—What makes you think that?—Derek raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

—You’re Derek Hale. I remember that your mom came to my mom’s funeral.—

Derek pressed his lips slightly. It was true, his mother had mentioned Claudia Stilinski’s funeral, the sheriff’s wife—it had been less than three days ago, but the boy spoke as if it were an old memory.

—You didn’t tell me how old you are.—he changed the subject, not sure he wanted to get into that topic with the boy.

—Biologically, eleven years old.—

—Biologically?—

—Mentally, I feel a little older…—Stiles gave him a mischievous and playful smile.

Derek made a grimace.

—But you’re still an eleven-year-old child.—

—… exclaimed the mutt in his fourteen pubescent years…—Stiles replied with a small, bored pout.

Derek looked at him indignantly, slightly parting his lips.

—I’m not a pubescent kid! I turned sixteen two months ago!—

—Whoa… You’re right, my bad. My apologies, young adult in training, not of legal age to drink or have a responsible adult supervising you in the passenger seat of a car.—

Derek huffed, all his annoyance written across his face.

—Ugh! You’re unbearable!—he growled.

Stiles smiled triumphantly. —See? You did know exactly who I am.—

—Shut up.—

The boy laughed, and Derek looked away, huffing with composure and resignation.

—Come on, let’s go to my house so you can use the phone.—Derek turned on his heels and started walking.

The brown-haired boy nodded, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket to take the teenager’s hand. The teen stopped, looking at him with surprise and curiosity.

—I wouldn’t want to get lost…—Stiles shrugged with a small, shy smile.

—Aren’t you supposed to feel “older” than your biological age?—Derek frowned again but didn’t let go as they continued walking.

—Yep…—he emphasized the “p”—Now I get why it feels weird flirting with a hormonally charged teenager…—he said as if it were nothing, in a perfectly casual tone with a sly smile.

Derek almost choked as he looked at him, both embarrassed and surprised.

—What did you say?!—

—Are you talking to me?—the human blinked, pretending not to understand.

—Who else would I be talking to?!—

—You know what?… You look cute when you get all nervous. —Stiles’ smiles deepened, and he raised both eyebrows in a brief but playful gesture.

Derek gaped like a fish out of water.

—Oh God!… An eleven-year-old kid is flirting with me! This isn’t happening! —he pulled his hand away as if it were burning and started walking faster.

This time, the human didn’t hold back, laughing out loud, and it was the first time in a long while that he had.

They both arrived at the Hale house, and Stiles couldn’t help but be curious about it.

—Wait here, I’ll go get my mom. —Derek asked, ushering him inside

Stiles nodded and continued looking around. It looked beautiful and spacious, full of life—completely the opposite of what he had known in his own adolescence.

This was Derek Hale, before his pure heart was betrayed and burned to ashes.

Evidently, what happened with Kate Argent hadn’t occurred yet. This Derek was very familiar with him, even though he was the sheriff’s son and just a kid. He was still dangerous. God. The apocalypse had screwed him over even in that. He hoped he could complete his mission to avoid that entire shitty future.

He ran his hand over the marks on the wooden frame in the living room, where the heights of Derek, Laura, and Cora were recorded.

He smiled fondly as the tips of his fingers touched those markings

—Did you lose your way home, Little Red Riding Hood? —someone spoke to him from behind.

Stiles didn’t even have to turn around to recognize the characteristic sarcastic tone of the person who spoke to him.

It had been so long since he’d heard the arrogant voice of that zombie mutt that, after everything, he had come to appreciate and care for him in his own way.

—…I decided to take an extra walk since I’m not carrying my grandmother’s soup, which, anyway, wasn’t appetizing enough to risk danger over. —

Peter was surprised and looked at him with both eyebrows slightly raised.

—Contrary to what the story says, wolves don’t drink soup, pup.—

—I know… Each version is different, taking the Grimm brothers’ story as a reference. Personally, I imagine the wolf in the tale stealing a good bourbon, preferably expensive and extravagant, just because he can.—Stiles finally turned around with a small, enigmatic smile.

Peter’s expression was still one of surprise. “Is this kid really a child?” he thought, deep in reflection.

—Peter, you shouldn’t bother our guest.—Talia Hale appeared alongside Derek.

The woman had an elegant bearing and exotic beauty, with golden skin, jet-black hair, and olive-green eyes. She exuded an influential and powerful presence, with a gentle gaze that was, at the same time, somewhat unyielding.

Talia Hale was an alpha in every sense of the word.

Stiles straightened up a little and slightly lifted his chin, without breaking the eye contact he had established with her, then tilted his head slightly, briefly closing his eyes.

It was a small ritual that his Derek had told him was good manners when entering the territory of an alpha werewolf and that one should greet with courtesy.

Talia was a little surprised, but then she smiled maternally.

—Mischief.—

Stiles pressed his lips together slightly; he hadn’t heard that nickname in many years.

—Good evening, Mrs. Hale.—

—What are you doing outside your house so late, dear?—she asked with the same gentleness, but with a certain probing undertone that Stiles noticed perfectly.

—I went out for a walk and fell asleep in the forest. —Stiles was aware that all three of them were listening closely to his heartbeat to tell if he was lying or not.

Another thing he had learned to use somewhat to his advantage, thanks to his Derek.

—Where is your dad? —she asked.

—Working a double shift…—he shrugged. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, according to what he remembered.

After his mother’s funeral. If his father wasn’t drinking, then he was at work. It was the time when he felt the loneliest in his childhood.

Talia pressed her lips together slightly and looked at Derek.

—It’s quite late and considering you’re on summer vacation… taking you home to be all alone doesn’t seem right… Would you like to stay over for a sleepover with my son Derek? —Talia smiled at him.

Derek looked at her as if another head had grown on his mother. Stiles smiled broadly and nodded.

—Thank you so much, Mrs. Hale!—

—Mom! Why in my room?!—

—You have an extra bed.—Talia looked at him as if she didn’t understand what the problem was.

—There are thousands of guest rooms here, just pick one!—

Talia turned to look at Stiles. —Would you prefer a guest room?—

—Honestly, no.—Stiles continued smiling, while Derek glared at him with a look full of hatred.

Oh… If someone had told him earlier how fun it was to tease teenage Derek, he would have used this tactic much sooner.

Even Peter chuckled quietly.

—All set. Stiles will stay in Derek’s room; tomorrow I’ll talk to your dad.—

Stiles nodded. —Really, thank you so much, Mrs. Hale.—

—Oh, dear, just call me Talia.—The woman hugged him.

A little later, Derek reluctantly led the boy upstairs to show him his room.

Peter looked at Talia. —Are you sure about this?—

—Why do you say that?—she didn’t stop smiling as she looked at the stairs.

—That kid… There’s something strange about him.—

—Yes, it’s called love, Peter.—

The werewolf raised an eyebrow.

—What?—

Talia turned to look at her brother, giving him a small, knowing glance, followed by a gentle and affectionate squeeze on his forearm.

—There are only three things that cannot be hidden… the sun, the moon, and the truth, dear brother…—

She patted him and continued on her way to the kitchen, leaving Peter even more confused than before.

—I hate it when you go into Miyagi mode. —Peter followed his sister.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Derek led Stiles to his room and slipped both hands into the pockets of his jeans

The brown-haired boy couldn’t help but smile; it was the perfect hideout for the average teenager. It was moderately tidy, the space was spacious, and indeed it had two single beds with blue and green blankets, some posters of rock bands, basketball players, and there was even an acoustic guitar.

His eyes lit up with the fearless curiosity that was so characteristic of him as he approached the instrument.

—You play the guitar… —he murmured, running his fingers over the strings.

—You’re going to throw it out of tune… —Derek protested, taking it from him. —And I don’t play much.

—Could you play a little for me? —Stiles asked, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

Derek stared at him for a few seconds and then at the guitar.

—Maybe another day. It’s late, and I don’t want to wake everyone up.

—That’s understandable. —Stiles shrugged.

Derek walked over to the drawers and took out a pair of pants and a T-shirt that were too small for him, then handed them to him

—You should take a shower before bed; you smell like dirt. —The teenager pretended to cover his nose in disgust.

Stiles had a clever comeback like, “And you stink at keeping the secret of being a werewolf,” but he kept it to himself for obvious reasons.

So he simply nodded and took the clothes to the small bathroom in Derek’s teenage room.

He left the clothes on the toilet lid and looked at himself in the mirror, lightly touching his face.

His appearance said "eleven years old," but his expression and gaze told a completely different story.

At least Sand had alleviated several aspects of his ADHD. Otherwise, by this time, he would be like a kangaroo with a million ants in its pants, unable to cope with his own anxiety, nervous tics, and panic attacks due to the recent death of his mother.

He let out a small sigh and turned on the hot water in the shower, feeling the warm water finally hit his skin and face.

Years without this, damn. What a luxury… If it were up to him, he would have brought a pillow to sleep in the shower… And his adult Derek too…

Chapter Text

As she had promised, Talia spoke early with the sheriff over the phone. She offered the man that his son spend a couple of days with them so the boy could get a little break. After all, both kids were on vacation, and the sheriff practically lived at the police station. So Noah didn’t refuse.

Normally, at that time, Stiles would have run home anyway to wait for his father, who, obviously, would only come back for a couple of hours each day, leaving without even giving him a second glance before heading out again.

But this time, with all the pain in his heart, Stiles had to set his priorities straight and remember his mission.

Derek was the key to unleashing or preventing the dragonfly apocalypse; he had to stay with him as much as he could and find out what was going to happen.

Both were lying in their respective beds, and Derek had his back to the boy, who watched him sleep with a longing gaze, until he slowly closed his eyes.

On an improvised bed on the floor, with a double mattress and a gas lamp as the only source of light, two lovers lay naked, entwined and covered by a comforter.

“Will you love me in the morning?”

“Stiles, we’re not the protagonists of a romantic movie…”

“Oh, come on, play along a little, Sourwolf. Don’t be boring.”

The adult Derek rolled his eyes.

“I won’t love you in the morning. In fact, I won’t even remember your name.”

“Ouch… That hurts my pride.”

“If only your pride hurts, then I didn’t do enough last night for you to have time to complain about this nonsense…”

Derek’s cocky smile was Stiles’ undoing.

“Perverted wolf…” The human blushed, looking away.

A small, hoarse laugh escaped the wolf as he turned to get back on top of the brown-haired boy and go for the next round.

—Derek… stop biting me like that… it tickles, mmm… perverted wolf… —young Stiles babbled in a small moan.

Until a pillow hit him hard, right in the face.

—Ah! —Stiles screamed as he jumped up, startled by the hit, spinning on the bed and falling to the floor.

—What?! Who?! When?! —he squawked, looking around for the imminent threat, his hair disheveled, dried drool on his lip, and eyes still half-closed.

Derek opened his eyes as soon as the boy sleeping in the bed next to him started babbling his name.

He sat up in bed, startled, when he heard him moan.

And suddenly the pillow was already falling like a missile straight at the brat’s face, who was now combining both things in the same sentence.

He was actually angry at first, afraid that the “ears” might misinterpret things.

But after seeing the brown-haired boy’s comical reaction and his ridiculous way of getting defensive after the pillow attack, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Stiles seemed to relax after his brain better understood the circumstances, coupled with Derek’s laughter, which was like a balm for his bad mood.

—Hey… kid, it’s not funny to wake a defenseless man like that. —the younger one scolded him.

Yes, he definitely still hadn’t properly calibrated the mouth-to-brain filter. Derek stopped laughing to shake his head slightly in annoyance.

—You were making strange noises while saying my name in your sleep. What did you expect, a good morning kiss? And don’t call me kid; you’re younger than me.

Stiles let out a tired sigh, moving his neck from side to side.

How was it possible that his body remembered the tension from his previous life? Damn.

—Der… God knows I love you… but I need coffee before listening to your weird teenage grumble in the morning.

Oops… the brain-to-mouth filter updates haven’t finished yet.

Derek blushed but tried not to take those words seriously since the boy still looked half asleep. —Why the hell are you so familiar with me? We’re not friends.

Stiles gaped like a fish briefly, and with his eyes half-closed, he straightened the bed as best he could before heading to the bathroom, automatically.

He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Derek had left him the night before, and the teenager reluctantly joined him, eyeing the boy warily.

Both went downstairs for breakfast, while the family members couldn’t hide their knowing little smiles.

—Good morning. —Stiles greeted them.

—Good morning, Mischief. —Talia greeted him with a big smile and a cup of coffee in her hands.

—Please, call me Stiles.

—What’s a Stiles? —Laura joined the family at the table last.

Stiles smiled. —It’s me.

“That’s so Hale…” he thought, amused.

—Alright, Stiles… I spoke with your dad last night, and he said it’s fine for you to stay here for a few days if you want, but he asked that you call him at night to let him know how you’re doing. —Talia informed him.

Stiles nodded as he poured himself some coffee, though he added a bit of milk and sugar, because, hello, child taste buds…

—He’s staying… for days? —Derek looked equally puzzled and annoyed as he placed some toast with jam on a plate near the younger boy.

—Nephew, don’t be rude to Little Red Riding Hood… He said he has Bourbon. —Peter drank his coffee with a big, sly smile.

—It’s the first time a friend of my brother stays over at our house. —Little Cora Hale approached young Stiles and sniffed him openly. —And you… you don’t smell like an idiot.

—Cora. —Eric Hale, Derek’s father, gave her a gentle warning tone.

The man was incredibly handsome, with eyes that were almost gray-blue, and his facial features closely resembled those of adult Derek. In short, the werewolf didn’t take after anyone unattractive, visibly.

—He’s not my friend. —Derek made a grimace.

—Not according to what we heard a little while ago… —Laura added with a mischievous smile.

—Laura… —Talia looked at her daughter.

Derek was as red as the strawberry jam, which Stiles found infinitely adorable.

—We’re nothing! —the teenager declared, blushing all the way to his ears. —He’s just a weird kid I found in the woods; you’re all jumping to the wrong conclusions. —He clenched the napkin in his hands, feeling his claws start to come out. —I only got close out of pity, because he smelled like sadness!

—Derek! —Talia frowned.

The teenager was surprised by his own reaction. Seeing the shocked faces at the table, though avoiding looking at Stiles, he stood up and ran toward the backyard of the house.

—I’ll go after—… —Eric Hale stood up, ready to follow his son.

But Stiles had already moved ahead the moment Derek walked toward the door.

Talia held her husband’s arm with a smile.

—Let’s leave the kids to sort this out…

—Are you sure?… Derek still can’t control his transformation, it could be dangerous for them… —Peter looked at his sister. —He could expose us.

Talia remained calm.

—As I said, let’s leave the kids to sort this out…

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Derek walked quickly into the forest, as far as he could, then sat on his favorite rock to look at the slope of the ground.

He let out a weary sigh, staring thoughtfully at the palm of his hand.

—That sigh sounds very energetic for someone who barely had breakfast.

Derek didn’t even have to turn around to know that Stiles was nearby. He could sense his scent and presence ever since he had followed him into the forest.

—Why did you follow me?

—Because I wanted to be alone too. —Stiles sat down beside him.

—Being alone means no one bothers you. —Derek frowned.

Stiles hugged his knees to his chest and looked at him calmly.

—I’m not going to bother you.

Derek looked at him with annoyance, then turned back to look ahead, ignoring him.

Both remained immersed in silence, which at first seemed a bit tense due to Derek’s initial discomfort but quickly became comfortable.

Stiles’ heartbeat was a little fast, erratic, and strong, but it was an honestly reassuring sound to the wolf’s sharp ears.

The teenager closed his eyes, letting himself be filled with the fresh air, the sounds of nature, and Stiles’ heartbeat.

Then he heard the sound of something scraping against the ground and opened his eyes to find the younger boy standing, drawing shapes in the dirt with a small stick

—What are you doing?

—I have ADHD; staying perfectly still isn’t really my thing, friend.

—Don’t call me friend.

—Alright, Miguel. —Stiles smiled at him.

—And why Miguel? —Derek looked at him, puzzled.

—Because you look like your name should be Miguel. —Stiles turned to look at him with a playful smile.

—You’re the weirdest and most annoying kid I’ve ever met. Why the hell did you follow me here? I thought you’d be smarter and walk away after what I said at breakfast. —Derek tensed a little, not looking at him, as if trying to hide the guilt he felt for following defensively.

—Why would I walk away?

—Stop playing dumb; you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Stiles let out a small laugh.

—Kid… you need to learn to communicate better.

—Don’t call me kid! I’ve already told you that you’re younger than me!

—Do you know what I took from all of this?

Derek tensed, staring at him intently.

—That you were in a bad mood because you hadn’t had breakfast and started growling when your family began poking you with a stick, and you have the emotional maturity of a gas cylinder with a leak near a lit match… Clearly, I received another message from you since last night; you picked me up from the woods, took me to sleep at your house, lent me your clean clothes, let me snoop around your things with minimal protest, and today you made me a couple of toast slices with jam…—

Stiles kept drawing and shifting a bit to stretch his legs. Staying perfectly still was never really in his nature.

Derek straightened up with a surprised expression, realizing that the younger boy had noticed every one of those details and the calmness with which he spoke.

—I know adolescence adds drama to your perception of the world, but we’re really fine, friend, so stop sulking and let’s get back to breakfast. I left my toast near your long-handed uncle.

Stiles smiled at him.

—That sounds bad. Peter is an idiot, but he wouldn’t do anything that shady or weird. —Derek stood up and rolled his eyes.

Stiles laughed, starting to walk toward the house. If only he knew what Peter Hale was capable of… —I know. Let’s go back, Sourwolf; I’m hungry.

Derek stood there, staring at him for a few seconds with a blank expression.

—What did you just call me? —he asked, looking at him cautiously.

Stiles turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised.

—I called you Sourwolf… because you’re a grumpy wolf.

In the blink of an eye, Derek was face to face with him, looking at him dangerously.

—What is it that you know? —he clenched his fists.

Stiles remained calm. —Your uncle called me Little Red Riding Hood, Cora sniffed me and said I didn’t smell like an idiot, Laura heard me from the other side of the house, your mom’s eyes sometimes have a red glint, and your nails grow into claws… like now… well… one plus one usually makes two wolves. —He pointed to them as if it were no big deal.

Derek looked at them in panic, hid them behind his back, and took a step back.

—Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me… —Stiles smiled at him.

The teenager frowned.

—I don’t even know you; it wouldn’t be wise of me to trust you just like that.

—…And you finally use your head on those nice shoulders of yours; I’m proud. —Stiles broadened his smile.

Derek sighed in frustration. —Better let’s go to Mom; she’ll decide what to do with you.

Stiles nodded without offering the slightest resistance, and both walked toward the Hale house.

Chapter Text

Derek and Stiles entered the house again, where the family had already finished breakfast.

—Mom. —Derek called out to her.

The woman turned and smiled. —Do you want chocolate chip cookies? After all, you didn’t finish breakfast.

—Uh, yes, please. —Stiles took a couple from the plate the woman had pointed out to them on the breakfast counter.

—Mom, we need to talk. —Derek looked at her intensely.

Talia was a little surprised, and then she nodded.

—Alright. Then accompany me to the study. —She walked first, followed by the two younger ones.

She opened the door to the room, where there were huge bookshelves lining the walls, a piano, and a beautiful, elegant chess set with two armchairs.

There was also a two-seater armchair and a few single chairs facing each other, with a coffee table in the center.

—Can you wait here for us for a few minutes, Stiles? —Talia smiled at the brunette.

He nodded with a small smile as they both walked away, leaving him alone in the room.

Stiles sat in front of the piano, feeling a bit nostalgic, lightly touching its surface with the tips of his fingers.

(🔊🎵🎹) (Riopy: i love you)

He gently moved his right hand across the keys, gliding over them, pressing and repeating the motion, creating a steady melody with his long, slender fingers, which, even at such a young age, already possessed the skill to reach every space between the keys with ease.

Until finally, he raised his left hand, accompanying the sound of his other hand, and began to truly play with both, tapping the keys with gentle firmness, moving through a smooth, harmonious sound that could now be clearly heard throughout the entire room.

Playing a soft yet equally steady and rhythmic melody, much like his own personality, Stiles closed his eyes, letting himself be immersed in the sound of the well-tuned piano and the musical notes his mind was recalling from memory, piece by piece reconstructing the song he had learned from his mother—on those afternoons when the woman with eyes like his would smile at him sweetly, before she had fallen ill, teaching him things and loving him.

There were days when he sometimes forgot what her full face looked like, but when he played the piano, her smile was etched into his mind like fire, bringing back those memories he kept deep within himself, which only surfaced when the musical notes were released.

And he could see himself as a child, immersed in the song, while his mother sat beside him when he was just a little boy, her hands moving over the same keys that he was now pressing.

His head moved to the rhythm of the symphony composed in his mind, expressed in every wrist movement, and everything began again, like a wonderful spiral of music, enveloping him like a perfect symphonic chaos filled with sweet nostalgia.

The smile of his adult Derek now played in his mind as the keys continued to sound one after another, casting a hint of sadness over the final notes that resonated more softly and calmly. As if hoping that this moment could still linger in the symphony of his mind, turning it into an eternal loop of sweet smiles, laughter, and wonderful memories he wished he had more time to treasure. Even with the world ending and having lost so much, he had Derek, and he could allow himself to be happy even as everything was falling apart.

Yes. Derek made him happy, even at the end of the world—without a home, without family, friends, or any chance of survival… He felt like the luckiest man in the world to have the werewolf by his side. He was his refuge, his family, and his home.

If Sand hadn’t appeared, he would have fully surrendered to death. Because he was the only one Stiles knew who would keep him standing, steadfast in survival. A reason. An anchor. Even if he was human. Derek Hale was the reason he was still breathing.

(🔇🎵🎹)

He opened his eyes again, gazing at the keys that had fallen silent since he was no longer pressing them, yet he lightly brushed them once more before closing the varnished wooden lid that covered them.

—I remember that your mother used to be a talented piano teacher… And I see that you inherited her gifts…—a calm, feminine voice spoke to him from behind.

Stiles didn’t need to turn around to know the source of that voice.

—She was, but when she fell ill, she stopped playing, and consequently, I did too… She didn’t like me touching her things…—he replied, still with his back turned.

—I’m sorry, dear…—Talia Hale stepped closer, placing her hand on the human’s shoulder—For everything you went through.

He still didn’t look at her, but he understood the weight of her words. Talia Hale was an extremely shrewd woman—Derek had told him so in their endless conversations at the end of the world—yet he had no idea that her reputation was well-deserved.

He could feel the warmth of her hand, gently pressing with the intention of comforting him, but at the same time, it was a reminder of how firm she was—like a statement beneath that seemingly maternal warmth, with hints of her alpha side beginning to surface.

Stiles turned to look at her, glancing around a bit, and noticed that Derek wasn’t with her, confirming his suspicions about the latter.

—Is this room soundproof? —he asked, looking up at her.

Talia smiled at him.

—No, until just a moment ago when I lifted the barrier… so everyone could enjoy a bit of your little concert…—

—Perfect…—Stiles stood up and walked to the center of the room under the attentive and curious gaze of the woman—He just wanted to step away from the piano; it would be a shame if it got stained with my blood when he tears my throat out with his teeth.—He rubbed his hands together and closed his eyes, preparing himself.

—What are you doing, dear? —Talia asked him with an amused smile, holding back her laughter.

—He’s not going to kill me, is he? —the human cautiously opened one eye.

She continued smiling and shook her head.

—How about we have a little game and chat before thinking about claws and teeth? —

—Yes, of course, let the kid stew in anxiety…—the younger one muttered under his breath, unable to stop his chatter, still tense in his muscles.

She chuckled under her breath in response.

Then the boy saw the alpha take a seat in front of the chessboard, smiling warmly and gesturing with her hand to the seat across from her.

The brunette understood the invitation without a word and took a seat across from her, where the black chess pieces were set on his side of the board.

Talia made the first move with the white pieces, advancing a pawn.

—I really like chess, although no one in this house poses a challenge for me… Does that sound arrogant of me? —she smiled.

Stiles moved his knight. —Not at all, —he replied simply. —Everyone mistakes the game of chess for a measure of intelligence, when in reality, it requires a good sense of strategy and cunning… For that reason, it doesn’t surprise me that you are exceptionally good at it.

She smiled gently and solemnly, accepting the compliment with a small nod.

—It’s curious; you don’t seem like the same little boy I saw just three days ago. —she moved another piece.

—People can change a lot after a life-changing event. —Stiles did the same, without taking his eyes off the board.

—That’s true… But they don’t usually become so perceptive. —

—Maybe I already was; I just stopped pretending I wasn’t. —

Stiles knew that Talia was monitoring his moods through his scent and heart rate, so he made sure to be as honest as possible while focusing on the game, all the while keeping himself as neutral as he could.

Although his anxiety was playing tricks on him, and the lack of his ADHD medication was taking its toll. At his age, (no matter how much magic he had to keep him steady), he urgently needed it, whether he had memories of the future or not.

—An excellent argument, though entirely unfit for a child who has just recently lost his mother… You should be going through the stages of grief more appropriate for your age.—

She moved her bishop.

—There is no exact standard for grief; it’s different for each person, including children… No matter that we all bleed the same way. No one suffers within the bounds of “normal”; we don’t feel or experience emotions the same way another would.—

Stiles moved his knight, capturing the alpha’s queen, and she smiled at the clever move of her opponent.

—You’re a very intelligent and cunning boy… of that I have no doubt. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when Derek told me you knew about us…—she moved her bishop, putting her king in check, and then smiled.

Stiles finally looked up at the woman as he moved his queen, sacrificing her to save the king, leaving Talia surprised, but she, in turn, moved and captured the willingly offered sacrifice.

—No offense, but you already knew. Even before Derek told you.—

Talia smiled. —I don’t know who taught you the ceremonial greeting among the ancient pack alphas, but I sensed your new essence the moment I looked into your eyes, even before you gave me the encrypted greeting.—

Stiles looked at her, a little surprised.

—New essence?—

—When I saw you three days ago at your mother’s funeral… you were a little boy with a broken heart. I don’t need to be a supernatural being to realize that when I look into your eyes, there’s more history in these three days than just the loss of your mother.—

She moved another piece, knocking down one of Stiles’s pawns, leaving her bishop in a compromised position.

—And why offer me the benefit of the doubt?—

—There’s a lot of history in your gaze, but I also noticed the way you look at my son. I can recognize true mates when they’re right in front of me.—

—Instinct?—

—Maternal,—she winked at him.

Stiles moved another piece. —That’s risky,—biting his lower lip slightly.

—There are things we simply cannot control, Stiles… Trust in people is a constant game of Russian roulette, where we might get hurt or not… The important thing is to watch each other’s backs if anything were to happen.—

The human frowned and moved his queen.

—That’s not enough…—he murmured under his breath.

She moved her pawn, taking her queen out of the game.

—What’s troubling you, dear?… I can feel your tension, and I also know you mean no harm to my family… Perhaps I can help you.—

The human stayed silent for a moment and then looked her in the eyes.

—I appreciate it…—Stiles moved his rook to the other side of the board, delivering checkmate to his opponent’s white king. —But, if you can hear the sounds of my heart as I tell you this… I’d rather keep my reasons to myself and ask you, against all odds, to trust me.—He looked her in the eyes with determination.

She looked at the board in surprise and then at the boy, who was still staring steadily into her eyes.

—Indeed, you are no longer Mischef… And when you asked us to call you Stiles, it was because you are no longer yourself. Isn’t that right?—

Stiles simply nodded slightly, and she lifted her chin a little, remaining analytical and solemn.

—Do your… motives… have anything to do with my son?—

The human nodded again.

—Will you hurt him?—

—Never.—

She smiled, pleased by how determined and confident he sounded.

Chapter Text

Several weeks later, Stiles Stilinski was spending more time at the Hale house than at his own.

It was a time when the sheriff would go entire days without setting foot in the house or seeing his own son. However, the younger one made sure to keep the house in order for when his father returned from work.

As a child, he felt that he had to do everything possible to always be at home, waiting for his father with a plate of food and a big smile—stretching the money, skipping his own meals, or even avoiding buying his ADHD medication. All just to have a decent family lunch with him, since his father’s absences limited their budget.

However, Noah’s returns home were rare, and at most he would stay only a few minutes before leaving again.

Today, with a future-oriented mindset, Stiles could give a name to his father’s way of raising him: negligence.

Did he love him? With all his heart, and he still does. Stiles knew that his father was not a bad man at all. However, his father had not been a paternal figure who truly provided the stability or support he needed during his childhood.

There are limits to one’s own pain when you choose to blind yourself so much that you forget there are others standing in the same spot, needing a little more empathy. Noah had lost his wife, but Stiles had lost his mother.

Even so, the brown-haired boy couldn’t hold a grudge against the sheriff; he had a special place for him in his heart. However, he had learned that there are things more important than trying to make someone open their eyes when they stubbornly choose to keep them closed on their own…

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Meanwhile, on the grounds of the Hale house…

Derek let out yet another weary sigh, one hand pressed to his forehead while the other rested on his hip, jar-like.

“You’re going to fall from there,” he grumbled irritably.

Stiles was up at the top of a tree, with a pair of binoculars and a notebook.

“Not until I finish collecting the data I need, I’m almost done.”

“Stiles, I don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing, and I don’t care, but get down now. If you crack your skull, my mom will break my legs.”

“Almost got it…” Stiles grabbed the notebook, trying to jot something down, but when he went to pull out his pen, he slipped and fell from the branch.

Derek jumped and caught him without any difficulty; the boy hadn’t even made a sound.

“I told you you’d fall!” Derek frowned as he gently set Stiles down on the ground.

He simply picked up the notebook and the pen, scribbling a few things down.

“Relax, Sourwolf, I knew you’d catch me,” he said casually while putting his things away in his backpack.

“Next time I’ll let you fall,” the wolf snapped irritably.

Stiles turned to give him an amused smile.

“You won’t.”

“I’m not your babysitter!”

“You’re right, bodyguard sounds better.” The human walked again along the forest path.

“You’re completely unbearable.” Derek followed him reluctantly.

“Stop flirting with me, Sourwolf. We’re still too young for you to court me properly.”

“You think highly of yourself, huh?”

“Well… technically, at my biological age of eleven, a physical and hormonal change occurs called the ‘pubertal stage.’ Normally, one has to face the distress of losing the vision of their childhood body as it transitions, and these symptoms are similar to depression—such as apathy, fatigue, and drowsiness. However, being neurodivergent due to my ADHD, the preconceptions about body dysmorphia during the pubertal stage can vary, taking into account the developmental course of the pre-adolescent in question.”

Derek made a confused face for a few seconds, trying to process that information, and then frowned.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t you take psychology classes?”

The teenager shook his head and shrugged.

“That’s sad, my friend. How will you get to know yourself better if you don’t take psychology?”

“I don’t think they teach about werewolf psychology…”

“You’re right, it’s already hard enough trying to figure out where your eyebrows go when you transform, let alone adding a full study on the average werewolf’s need to communicate through growls.”

“More like I feel the need to smash your face into a tree, Stilinski.”

“…And we’re back to violent flirting… maybe I really should write something on werewolf psychology.”

Derek huffed, looking up at the sky, then growled a warning at him, though not entirely threatening.

Stiles raised both hands with a sly smile that said, “See?”

Then he let the teenager walk ahead on the trail, before running toward the wolf’s back and leaping so the other could give him a piggyback ride.

“Hey!” the older one complained.

But the human just wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing his cheek against his own while laughing loudly, reducing the teenage wolf’s anger to a minimum, leaving him with only a frown.

Stiles smiled broadly; a couple of weeks ago, he had stopped holding himself back from having contact with the young wolf, noticing the differences between the surly Derek he had met in his adolescence and this boy who, despite the protests and growls, never pulled away or rejected the contact.

Proving the theory he had developed when they were a couple, Derek Hale—beneath the furrowed brows and badass air—is a huge teddy bear, secretly incredibly tactile with those he truly cares about. He mostly attributed this to his wolf.

“There’s a small pond up ahead. What do you say we bring a few things and go fishing?” Stiles said as the other still carried him.

“Do you think I have nothing better to do than follow you around all day?” he snapped, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“And what’s so pressing on your schedule, oh great busy wolf?” he asked sarcastically, letting his arms hang loosely over the teenager’s shoulders.

“Summer homework.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You’re eleven.”

“And I’m further ahead than you.”

Derek opened his mouth to reply, but the kid was annoyingly clever, so he couldn’t argue.

“Do you know algebra?”

“What topic are you covering?”

“Functions.”

“Easy.”

“How about biology?”

“Yep.”

“Then you’ll do them for me.”

“Don’t even dream of it, little wolf. I’m not doing your homework; I’ll help you with it.” Derek was about to reply, but Stiles continued, “Hey! I value our necks intact, and I doubt your mom would appreciate that kind of thing.”

The wolf grimaced but ultimately agreed; the human was right.

Stiles lowered his gaze and rested his chin on the wolf’s shoulder, looking a bit thoughtful. Derek noticed the change in the human but chose not to say anything about it.

“Hey… do you like someone?” the brown-haired boy asked out of the blue.

The teenager swallowed nervously, feeling slightly uneasy though not knowing why. Or rather, he didn’t want to probe that line of thought too much, for the sake of his own mental well-being

“No.”

“But is there someone you’re interested in?”

“I’m afraid to ask where this conversation is going, Stiles… Don’t make me leave you alone in the middle of the forest.”

The human gave a half-smile and hugged him a little tighter.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning to confess, big guy, so shake those fleas out of your head…” Stiles smiled a little.

The teenager felt the heartbeat of the freckled boy and secretly felt relieved. Then he grew a bit nostalgic.

“Someone used to like me… But it didn’t end well,” the wolf said, his voice monotone and sharp.

The human knew exactly what he was talking about but wanted to give the boy the proper space to speak—or not—about it. For a few almost endless seconds (during which Stiles thought the topic had been dropped), they remained silent as the teenage wolf kept walking, with the brown-haired boy still on his back.

—She died... Because of me... —he finally concluded, in the same harsh tone of voice.

The brown-haired one closed his eyes, having received confirmation of the events, and pressed his temple against the side of Derek’s face in a tender gesture, while wrapping him in a tight hug around his neck.

—Aren’t you… going to say anything to me?… Aren’t you going to ask what happened? —The wolf was serious, letting the younger one handle him, while continuing to walk through the forest.

—… I don’t need to tell you or ask you anything about what you don’t want to talk about or remember. I’m also not anyone to lecture or judge you, Derek. You can tell me whatever you want, and I’ll be more than happy to listen, and even help you if you ever need me, but I’m not going to pressure you to open up to me… Trust has to be earned, not given freely.

The tension in Derek’s shoulders seemed to have eased a little, as a small, resigned yet relieved smile appeared at the corners of the teenager’s lips.

—You’re really weird and kind of scary.

—And why is that?

—Because sometimes you talk like you’re an old adult…

Stiles looked at him offended, pulling away from his neck to place both hands on the wolf’s shoulders.

—Ungrateful mutt… Let’s see who’s going to help you with your homework now.

—You’re short, talkative, and complain a lot… yep… definitely, I’ll call you Grandpa Stiles.

—Shut up.

Derek laughed out loud, infecting the brown-haired one in the process, completely lightening the atmosphere.

—Hey… —Derek spoke to him with a bit more seriousness, though still smiling.

—Mmm?...

—Since when do you play the piano?

Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise at the question.

—I heard you playing some time ago in the studio, actually everyone in the house did… —the teenager added awkwardly.

The human smiled. —My mother taught me a little…

Derek hummed an affirmative response and then said, —I think you’re really good, your mother taught you very well… Have you thought about going to a music school or something like that in the future? —he asked with curiosity, looking straight ahead.

Stiles tightened his fingers slightly around the fabric of his own coat, while his expression grew a little distant. —I don’t think I’m that good…

Derek turned his face, a little surprised that the boastful and always cheerful boy gave such a pessimistic answer.

—I don’t want to inflate your ego… But you are… And I think you’d do really well if you decide to study that… —he gave him a small, friendly lopsided smile.

—How do you know? —The question sounded small and timid.

—Because among all the things I’ve seen you do and solve… only music has awakened a feeling in you… And that’s reason enough for me…

Stiles closed his eyes, briefly remembering the adult Derek, looking at him as if he held the moon, with a smile so sweet and gentle that even in his memories, he could feel its warmth.

Instinctively, he pressed his body closer to the wolf, who was still carrying him, and rested his forehead on the teenager’s neck. No one spoke again, settling into a comfortable silence between them. The adolescent wolf continued carrying him on his back for the rest of the journey to the Hale mansion.

Chapter Text

Classes were about to start, and that meant that summer vacation was coming to an end.

Stiles had spent so much time with the Hales that he practically had his own place there, with a good amount of clothes and his belongings.

Scott had been reproaching the brown-haired boy a little, and honestly, he felt a bit bad, but at that moment, he had more important matters to attend to.

He had been climbing the tallest trees at various points around the Hale house all this time to get a panoramic view of every corner of the property from the outside, in addition to the one he already had from the inside.

He wrote his notes in code to prevent anyone who looked at them from realizing what he was actually doing.

Unknowingly, Derek had led him to every unguarded spot on the property, something Stiles would take very seriously in order to take the proper precautions and prevent the harpy Kate Argent, along with her mercenary "hunters," from setting foot there without him knowing.

But his true objective was to find the emerald dragonfly, which was said to be connected to the Hales and that, later on, Kate would discover.

Unfortunately, even with Stiles’ subtle questioning of Derek, the teenager had no idea what the brown-haired boy was talking about.

To be honest, it didn’t surprise him; not even the adult Derek had any idea where Kate had stolen something that he himself didn’t even know he had…

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

At present, the human was in the study he had first seen on the morning he arrived at the Hale residence, which the alpha had offered him to use whenever he needed. He was drinking coffee with milk and sugar while going through a stack of papers covered with X-shaped drawings and dotted lines.

He had two large dark circles under his eyes. Classes were starting in a couple of days, but he hadn’t slept, finishing the outline of his plan, squeezing every last bit of brainpower, recalling spells from Deaton’s books, FBI strategies, and those he had learned from Derek himself in the apocalyptic world that might prove useful.

—Stiles…—

The human gave a small jump in his seat; he was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t notice Talia standing in front of him with a huge warm smile and a cup of coffee in her hands

It was two in the morning.

—Sorry… did I wake you?—

She shook her head.

—What are you doing, dear?—

—Homework.—

—Stiles… you did your homework as soon as you got here, and you even helped Derek, Laura, and Cora with theirs… You even helped Peter with a university assignment on political economy…—

The human swallowed, feeling a bit too exhausted to come up with a good excuse.

—I’m sorry…—

—Why are you apologizing, sweetie?—

—For… I have no idea.—

She smiled and then looked at the papers.

—Can I help you with something?—

Stiles was very tempted to talk to her. The truth was, an alpha like Talia could easily give him the location of the first emerald dragonfly, but involving the alpha would mean breaking a few rules set by Sand, and that wouldn’t be a good idea.

—Talia…—

—Tell me, sweetie.—

—Is there any way I could skip a couple of grades at school?—

She looked at him, surprised.

—Exactly how many?—

—Enough to be in high school.—The human’s gaze was insistent.

She smiled.

She smiled.

—I’m a good friend of the principal; maybe I can talk to him so they can give you some tests… Can I know why you want to enter high school, pup?—she asked with a smile, curiosity dancing in her sage-green eyes, similar to Derek’s.

He knew that look well; it meant he had to start giving a few answers, otherwise there would be an intervention… Stiles let out a small sigh.

—I don’t want to be separated from Derek.—technically, it wasn’t a lie.

—And why is that?—she smiled, leaning slightly against the back of the chair with her arms crossed.

—Because I don’t want anything bad to happen to him…—

She listened closely to the boy’s heartbeat, and her smile faded when he lowered his gaze back to the papers on the desk.

—Stiles… you know I’m the alpha, and that my job is to protect you, right?—she asked him in a gentle tone.

The brown-haired boy just stared for a few seconds in complete silence, and she smiled with a hint of resignation.

—You really love my son…—she added.

Stiles nodded slightly.

The alpha smiled again, this time maternal and understanding. The human suspected that Talia had already guessed the source of all the mystery; after all, she was an extremely shrewd and intelligent alpha. That was why she kept the boy close, and her seemingly ambiguous questions were actually very close to what she needed—or didn’t need—to know about the brown-haired boy.

Talia Hale had no blind spots—except when it came to her own family.

—Go to sleep, dear, or I won’t talk to the principal tomorrow.—

Stiles nodded gloomily, gathering his papers and taking them with him as he headed back to Derek’s room.

He was facing away from his bed, so he couldn’t see him; however, he set his things down gently so as not to disturb him and slipped into his own bed.

Derek had his eyes open and turned to look at the human, who, it seemed, had fallen into a much-needed, deep sleep the moment he closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillow.

He got out of bed and tucked the younger boy in better with the quilt as the latter shifted a little.

He couldn’t help but smile a little to the side; he had already gotten used to how noisy the brown-haired boy was when he slept.

Derek picked up one of the papers the brown-haired boy had put away, frowning slightly when he saw only X’s and dots, so he set them back in place and returned to bed.

The next day, just as Talia had promised, Stiles had his interview with the principal.

Although his father, Noah, wasn’t too thrilled about having to miss work to attend the meeting as his guardian at school, he offered no resistance to his son’s decision to skip a couple of grades.

Stiles took the exam and could officially be considered a first-year student at Beacon Hills High School.

Scott nearly screamed in protest; his best friend was now leaving him behind in the last year of elementary school. But Stiles managed to calm things down, telling him they would still be friends and that when Scotty entered high school, he would give him all the tips to be popular together.

Clearly, the Latino’s anger and reluctance lingered, as he still felt quite betrayed for being left behind since summer vacation. But, once again, Stiles had his priorities.

At the Hale house, they celebrated Stiles’ entry into high school with a family lunch. Laura greeted him warmly, volunteering herself as his personal bodyguard, as the eldest of the siblings.

Derek would now be only one year ahead of Stiles in school, which would allow the younger boy to keep a close eye on him and prevent him from crossing paths with the harpy Kate Argent.

The teenager and the brown-haired boy were in the wolf’s room, spending time together, as they had been doing throughout the vacation (and during the moments when Stiles wasn’t searching for the dragonfly and devising plans)

—Why did you do it?—Derek asked without looking at him, spinning the basketball on his fingers.

—What do you mean?—Stiles asked, looking up from his book.

—High school.—

The human smiled. —You’re not getting rid of me that easily.—

—I don’t mean that… you have no idea what it’s like… high school, they’ll eat you alive.—

—Oh, thanks for the encouragement…—Stiles laughed a little, if only he knew he had already gone through this stage…—But I think I can handle this.—

—You don’t understand, Stiles… You’re eleven years old. People can be very cruel to what stands out, and you’re like raw meat thrown into a lion’s cage.—

The brown-haired boy’s eyebrows shot up.

—I literally live among wolves, to give a new twist to your analogy… What’s your concern, Sourwolf?—

Derek huffed, setting the ball aside.

—Aside from the fact that you’ll be a fish in a pond full of sharks?—

—Lau said she would watch out for me.—Stiles shrugged.

—Laura will graduate next year.—

—Alright, then I’ll go with you… we’re friends.—Stiles hummed.

Derek growled in frustration, ruffling his hair.

—Why don’t you understand that I don’t want to be like your damn bodyguard all day?! Ever since vacation started, you’ve been glued to the soles of my feet like chewing gum!—Derek stood up, his blue eyes blazing and breathing heavily—“I think I’ve been kind, patient, and sympathetic enough to earn a free pass from your unbearable presence, at least at school… You should leave me alone and go back to your damn house already!”—

The human looked at him with his lips slightly parted, then lowered his gaze, gathering his things that were within reach and putting them into his backpack.

Derek blinked, realizing what he had said, and his eyes returned to their normal color.

—Stiles… I—…—

He gave him a slightly pained smile, looking at him over his shoulder.

—Don’t worry, the full moon will be here soon; I understand that you’re a bit more volatile…—

The teenager stayed silent with a guilty expression as the younger boy left the room without giving him a second glance.

Derek stepped forward with the intention of following him, but Laura and Cora leaned against the doorway of his room with disapproving expressions, amplifying the guilt the teenage wolf felt.

Talia and Eric saw the brown-haired boy go down the stairs, and he gave them a glance, followed by a slightly forced smile, before leaving the house

Peter was on the couch, immediately turning to look at the Hale couple.

—Are you just going to let him leave like that?—Peter seemed taken aback by the couple’s indifference, when clearly everyone in the house had heard Derek’s harsh words.

—My children are old enough to work out their own disputes, Peter.—Talia replied calmly, knowing full well that her children had heard her.

Peter bit his lower lip slightly, turning back to the TV without really watching the program, now lost in his own thoughts.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Stiles walked back to his house; it felt strange to return for good after weeks of only doing basic chores at the house.

As soon as he opened the door, he found his father sleeping on the couch, still in his work clothes and holding a bottle of liquor in his hand.

Silently, he set down his backpack and went to the middle closet to grab a blanket. Then he walked over to the couch, took the bottle from the man, and placed the blanket over him.

Noah looked worn out, with pronounced dark circles under his eyes and a bit underweight. He let out a small sigh as he stroked his forehead, smoothing his hair a little.

The sheriff opened one eye slightly.

—Mischief?—

—I’m Stiles now, Dad…—the boy smiled at him, still gently stroking his hair.

The man hummed something that sounded like an affirmative before falling back asleep.

The brown-haired boy sighed quietly again and stood up, looking at the wall clock, deciding to start with the basic chores. Now that he had his father’s wallet on hand, it would be easier to go buy the ingredients for dinner.

In a couple of hours, Stiles already had the pantry stocked, the bedding fresh and spotless, and dinner simmering on the stove.

He had a bit of free time, so… he walked over to the only piece of furniture in the living room covered with a sheet and pulled it off, revealing the German upright piano, a Blüthner.

He smiled nostalgically, lightly running his fingers over the piano keys.

He sat down, closing his eyes with the smile still on his lips, and began to play.

Chapter Text

(🔊🎹🎵) Deux Arabesques: N° 1 by Claude Debussy

Little by little, Sheriff Stilinski began to be flooded with sensations.

His sense of smell was being tempted by a delicious aroma of homemade food, which he could almost taste even without chewing anything more than the air at that moment.

He felt the warmth of the blanket that was covering him, over his body.

And lastly, though no less important, the pleasant nostalgic sound of the Bluthner piano, being played perfectly in a steady, harmonious melody, coming from the other side of the room.

He rose just enough to gaze, still a little drowsy but sufficiently surprised, at the young back of his son, sitting upright as he glided his fingers over the keys, masterfully performing Claude Debussy’s piece, Deux Arabesques: No. 1…

His lips parted in surprise; he hadn’t heard his son play since his mother fell ill.

He watched that young back sway, completely absorbed in each note of an imaginary sheet of music, well known to his son’s skilled mind.

The sheriff, guided by his feet on autopilot, slowly stood up and walked toward the boy who was still playing the piano, his head nodding to the rhythm of the boy’s wrist movements, and the music seeming to pierce him like a ray of emotions and sensations he thought had been locked away in a drawer deep within his mind.

Claudia had told him, before falling ill, that Mieczyslaw was what could be considered a true prodigy in music…

When his son’s long, slender fingers rested on the piano, his entire being seemed to transform into a deeper version of himself. The elegant performance contrasted with the usual personality of the hyperactive young boy, but she knew it was all part of the whole that was little Mischief—even in this more passionate facet.

He remembered when his wife and he had talked about the possibility that, in the future, their son would attend the best music school in the country.

Those conversations came back to his mind as soon as he saw the boy’s smile and his eyes completely closed, while he seemed to be carried away entirely by the music so intertwined with his son’s soul

Noah lowered his gaze to the floor, then closed his eyes, enveloping himself in the pleasant musical notes that now filled the empty, sorrowful space of the house.

A small smile appeared on the sheriff’s lips, his eyes growing moist, once he opened them again after the final gentle taps on the piano keys.

(🔇🎹🎵)

Out of habit, he placed a hand on the brown-haired boy’s shoulder, and the boy quickly turned to look at him in surprise, as if he had finally come to his senses.

“—Gosh… You scared me… Sorry, did I wake you?” Stiles asked him.

Noah shook his head slightly.

“That sounded wonderful; it’s been a long time since I heard you play, son.”

The younger one smiled, giving affectionate pats on his father’s hand, which was still resting on his shoulder. “Dinner must be ready by now; it just needed a little more time to finish cooking.”

He stood up, and the sheriff followed him, a little curious.

Since when had his son become so mature and calm?…

When he saw him stumble over his own feet and almost spill the juice, he internally reconsidered his previous thoughts.

Stiles just smiled, a little embarrassed, serving the pasta with Bolognese sauce for both of them, and then they sat down together to eat.

The sheriff felt somewhat conflicted about this; it was the first time since everything that had happened that he was sitting at a table to have dinner with Mischie—Stiles

They talked a little, and the sheriff even asked for an extra helping before getting up to return to work.

Stiles said nothing about it, simply seeing his father off with a knowing, somewhat sad smile.

He was alone again, but that was hardly news. So he set about washing the dishes and finishing tidying the kitchen before returning to his room—unaware that someone had stayed outside the house, keeping watch over his every movement and sound until nightfall, when they finally decided to leave silently, knowing that today would not be the best day to apologize…

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Stiles was finally ready to start a new day, where he would, for the second time, face his first day of high school. Okay, nothing new…

Although this time, being two years younger than his classmates was certainly going to be a new experience.

He prepared as best he could, given his circumstances. He found a note from his father wishing him a good first day and twenty dollars for food.

He still deeply regretted not being old enough to drive his precious Roscoe… but that was life.

He closed his eyes with a certain composure, putting the money and his house keys into his backpack, fully intending to take the bus.

But as soon as he stepped outside, the black Camaro arrived honking its horn.

“—Stiles!” Cora greeted him with a huge smile, the window rolled down. “Do you need a ride?” she asked playfully.

The brown-haired boy returned her smile and walked over.

“—Yes, thank you!” He slid into the passenger seat, sitting down next to Derek.

Laura was driving, and Cora was in the passenger seat.

“—Hi, Lau. Thanks for going out of your way to pick me up.”

“—It’s no trouble, darling. From today on, you’ll be coming with us.”

“—Oh, it’s not necessary, I can take the bus; I don’t want to be a bother.”

“—Nonsense, you’re not a bother.” Cora waved her hand dismissively.

Derek remained completely silent, staring out the window.

Stiles simply pressed his lips together, turning his gaze toward the opposite window. He had no idea how to start a conversation with the stubborn teenager either.

Cora said goodbye to her brothers and Stiles before getting off at the elementary school.

The three of them went a little further, reaching the high school. Laura got out first, leaving them alone in the car briefly.

“—If you want, I can wait a few minutes before going into school,” Stiles said, without looking at him.

Derek looked at him in surprise. “—Why would you do that?”

“—So they don’t see you with me,” he replied simply.

Guilt hit the wolf like a pile of bricks in his stomach.

“—Stiles…”

The younger boy got out of the car, not giving the teenager a chance to speak.

Okay, he was being a bit stubborn about it, but… puberty, remember?…

As soon as Stiles got out of the car, Laura wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a huge smile.

“—Here, you’re my little brother, one more member of my pack, so I want to know everything—if you’re feeling good, happy, bad, sick, sad, or if someone just looks at you the wrong way… You can call me, and I’ll be there for you in whatever you need, understand?”

Stiles gave her a bright and heartfelt smile

“—Thank you, Lau.”

“—You’re welcome! Hey, if you’re feeling nervous, you can sit with me at lunch.”

The human nodded.

Derek followed closely behind both of them as they entered the school, and a few glances automatically landed on Stiles.

He remained indifferent to the curious glances of some older students, while Laura talked to him about a new song she had heard on TV. Derek stayed suspiciously quiet, but he didn’t move away.

The bell rang, and after a sweet smile from the older Hale, she said goodbye, leaving him at his first class.

Before fully entering, he saw Derek’s expression—like a kicked puppy—before continuing on to his class.

“—Okay… I guess it’s time to fix things with this proud mutt…” he murmured quietly, knowing he might be heard.

Then he sat down in a seat, under the watchful eyes of his classmates and even his biology teacher.

Internally, he wished that this second round of the strangest phase of his past and new life would be over soon…

The class felt practically endless… but he couldn’t complain entirely; he found it somewhat curious to have to revisit concepts he had learned in middle school, perhaps a little more outdated than in his own time…

Especially considering that his mind belonged to an adult man, an FBI agent with a doctorate in forensic psychology and a specialization in criminal behavior.

He left the classroom and headed to his new locker; so far, he hadn’t had any issues, and that was quite an achievement.

“—Well, look what we have here…” a mocking male voice sang right behind him.

“‘And… I had spoken way too soon. Shit…’”

Stiles turned around and found himself facing a guy, maybe Derek’s age or a little older, who reminded him a bit of Jackson at his worst as a typical bully, wearing a jacket in the school colors, with two idiot lackeys applauding every foolish move of the bigger brute.

“—Can I help you with something?” Stiles remained neutral, wearing a small, diplomatic smile.

“—Did you get the wrong school, baby? This is high school, kid, not a daycare,” the guy mocked.

“—I was advanced a couple of years,” he shrugged.

The guy made an annoyed grimace and pushed Stiles’ head with one hand, banging it against the locker.

“—So you’re a smart little rat…” he mocked. “Looks like we’ve got someone to do our reports now,” he said to his two friends who were laughing.

The others in the hallway just watched without intervening in what was happening.

“—Leave him alone, Flint,” a voice cut through the crowd.

Stiles glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that it was Derek.

“—Or what… Hale?” The guy sneered at him, tightening his grip on the brown-haired boy’s head.

“—I’m going to—…” Derek clenched his fists and took a step forward, fully intending to put him in his place.

However, the bully screamed in pain before the wolf could lay a single finger on him.

He was surprised when he saw Stiles applying a hold on his bully’s fingers, bending them backward, with a slightly angry expression.

Long live FBI training, and later, the end of the world, where people weren’t exactly kind…

“—Let go of me, you little rat!” the guy growled, finally dropping to his knees from the pain the younger boy was inflicting on his hand. “Do something, idiots,” he snarled at his two friends standing there, just as stunned as the rest of the onlookers.

Derek took a step forward but then stopped when he saw Stiles skillfully dodging them, practically effortlessly, in perfectly synchronized aikido movements—gentle in execution but firm enough to take them out of commission.

He deflected each of their strikes, using his attackers’ strength to his advantage, sending them rolling gracefully like spare wheels with minimal effort, leaving everyone with expressions of pure surprise and amazement at the skill of the seemingly harmless boy.

Once the three bullies were on the ground, Stiles put his books in the locker and grabbed his backpack, then took the wolf by the wrist and quickly left the area.

Shortly after, a teacher arrived asking what was happening, and everyone quickly dispersed, but the others didn’t even manage to see or hear anything because they had already gone out to the school’s inner courtyard, near the bleachers.

“—What was that?”

“—What was what?” Stiles pretended not to know.

Derek gave him the exasperated “Hale” look, telling him with his eyes that he wouldn’t let it slide.

Stiles sighed. “—I know a bit of self-defense; it’s no big deal.”

“—A bit? You just defeated three members of the school’s wrestling team.”

The human now truly looked like he had completely messed up.

“—Are they going to hold a grudge?… Ugh… I hope not.” Stiles fiddled with his own hands while closing one eye, hoping the answer would be favorable for his situation.

Derek gave him a small, amused sideways smile as he crossed his arms.

“—Where did you learn to do that? With your dad?”

Stiles seemed to think for a moment. “—I thought you didn’t want me bothering you at school, yet there you were, about to get into a fight over me.” He changed the subject.

Derek blushed slightly and looked away.

“—I told you you’d be cannon fodder… and… I felt responsible…”

“—You shouldn’t.”

“—Well, I do.”

“—I thought we weren’t friends.” A small, treacherous smile played tentatively on the younger boy’s lips.

Derek growled but then exhaled with resignation. “—We are… I… I’m sorry about before.”

Stiles gave him a huge, radiant smile, and the wolf silently thanked that the human couldn’t hear the strange, erratic heartbeat that had just made an odd leap in his chest.

“—I’m proud of you, Sourwolf.”

“—Shut up,” he shot back irritably, though not really harshly.

Both went back to school, fully intending to have lunch together in the cafeteria.

Chapter Text

A couple of days were enough for young Stiles’ reputation to become positive, especially when the same brute who tried to intimidate him on the first day was now practically begging him to join the fight club.

It was curious how some things happened, and their perfect boomerang effect.

Now that he had the mind of an adult in the body of a child, he couldn’t care less about being popular. He couldn’t give a damn about anything, as long as his loved ones were safe and he could find the first emerald dragonfly before it fell into the wrong hands.

During these same days, Derek spent his breaks and lunch periods with Stiles, which, to the younger one, seemed at most quite curious.

Several times, Laura would join them, and there were even occasional visits from Peter, but usually it was just the two of them, mostly by their own choice.

So he couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of his eye while fiddling with his food at lunch. Once again, the average werewolf metabolism meant his tablemate had three times the usual portions on his tray, making him smile a little while also feeling a bit envious.

—Der.-

—Mm?.-

—Wouldn’t you rather be with your friends at that table?—Stiles nodded toward the other end of the courtyard, where Derek’s sporty friends were goofing around.

—I’m with my friend.—he replied without looking at him, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Okay, Stiles knew he shouldn’t smile like a giddy, goofy kid, but he could allow himself certain luxuries every now and then...

—Thought you didn’t want to be a bodyguard, or hang around with a brat...—he teased him a little with an amused smile

—The brat, apparently, knows how to defend himself just fine, and his company is less tedious than theirs.—

Stiles just smiled and took a bite of his apple.

—Where did you learn self-defense?—Derek finally asked, curious, picking up the unfinished conversation from the other day…

Stiles chewed and swallowed before speaking.

—A… friend taught me.—he replied, slightly clearing his throat

The teenager furrowed his brow slightly when he felt the younger one’s small, erratic heartbeat as he said the word “friend.”

—What friend? Scott?—although he actually doubted it, because from what Stiles had told him, Scott was an ordinary eleven-year-old kid with a lot of respiratory problems.

—No. He was older.—Stiles stared at his salad as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

—Do I know him?—Derek raised an eyebrow

—You could say that…

Now the teenager looked confused, and Stiles let out a small sigh without even looking at him. —Shall we change the subject?—

Derek could smell the sadness in the boy.

—Stiles…—

The younger one looked at him as the bell signaling the return to class rang, and the courtyard cleared out fairly quickly; however, they still hadn’t moved

—You know you can tell me anything, right? —the wolf looked him straight in the eyes.

The brown-haired boy gave a small smile and nodded. —Thanks, Sourwolf.—

—Stop calling me that already. —Derek frowned, making him laugh.

—Hard to do when you do that. —

—What thing? —

—The language, Spanish eyebrows. —

—Brat. —

—Grumpy wolf. —

Stiles stuck out his tongue, then grabbed a small grape and tossed it at his face, but the other one caught it in midair with his teeth.

The younger one burst out laughing while the teenager chewed and swallowed.

—Stay still, Balto. —Stiles’ huge smile was wide, and his voice sounded bubbly, full of cheer, just like his whiskey-colored eyes, bright and playful.

The teenager couldn’t help but look a little amused, despite the mini insult of being called a dog…

For a moment, Stiles caught the reflection of what seemed to be an emerald flash in the wolf’s right eye, instantly cutting off all laughter and good humor in the human, who immediately grabbed his cheeks, bringing his face closer to the teenager’s, leaving him surprised and frozen in place.

The younger one’s serious, focused face was still close. If not for his supernatural ability to hear heartbeats and monitor emotions through scent, Derek would have sworn he had learned in like that to kiss him.

However, he didn’t smell as if he were actually thinking about that. In fact, he smelled of absolute concentration, as if his mind were racing at full speed and solving a puzzle in his head.

But it was his face that was in Stiles’ hands, and it was those whiskey-colored eyes, locked onto his, that seemed to hold before them the greatest mystery that had ever existed.

—What if… it wasn’t a corduliidae dragonfly…? All this time I might have been—… Yes… That could make sense…—he muttered, eyes fixed on the teenager.

—Stiles…?—he asked with a hint of caution, somehow waiting for some kind of reaction or new explanation from the brown-haired boy.

The younger one’s eyes finally seemed to return to this planet after a long trip into the privacy of his own thoughts. For the first time, Derek noticed the number of freckles trailing down his skin, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, just to keep himself focused on something other than the round, chocolate-colored eyes that were still watching him with bright cleverness.

—Sorry.—Stiles let him go gently and pulled back without embarrassment, still looking thoughtful.

Derek felt the loss of his warmth and tried not to think too much about it.

—What were you thinking about…?—he was genuinely curious; for once, he wanted a clue about what was going through the younger one’s mind.

But Stiles sank back into his thoughts, staring at a fixed point on the ground.

—Sti--…—

—You two! Didn’t you hear the bell?—Coach Lahey called to them from the other end of the courtyard as he walked toward them.

Both of them turned to look at him.

—There’s a fire drill. If it were real, you two would be burned alive.—the man scolded them.

Stiles felt a bit of a chill at the way the guy spoke, mainly because he had Derek right beside him.

The guy spat out a few more scolding words and then sent them inside, so everyone could finally gather in the school’s auditorium.

The principal spoke about the importance of the school’s safety protocols and then took the opportunity to introduce a new member of the teaching staff.

She didn’t seem particularly special, but as soon as the young woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes greeted the principal with a smile before taking her place beside her colleagues…

Derek caught a strong scent, extremely furious, very sharp, making even his instincts go a little wild, like a shiver.

He turned to look directly at the source of those strange sensations, and as soon as he saw Stiles, he could swear that his expression was not that of a child at all.

There was only rage, terribly tangible—his jaw and hands clenched into tight fists, and his eyes, normally bright and full of laughter, had turned into two pools of burning magma from a volcano about to erupt.

His aura was heavy, as if he were a true supernatural being. Derek watched him, deeply surprised and tense. He had never thought the brown-haired boy capable of giving such a look filled with contempt and rage—directed at what appeared to be the new substitute French teacher.

Despite Stiles’ latent ferocity and hostility, Derek, for some reason he couldn’t explain, didn’t feel any fear at all. So he gently placed his hand over one of the younger one’s clenched fists, which rested rigidly on his own leg.

And as if his touch were a balm, the human’s rigid posture eased a little, though his murderous gaze still remained firm and piercing on that blonde woman.

The teenager grew worried when he began to smell Stiles’ blood, and his gaze dropped to the younger one’s fists

His nails were digging painfully into the flesh of his own palms, causing cuts and, consequently, making them bleed heavily.

—Stiles…—he spoke in a low, worried voice.

Derek moved a little closer, feeling the need to comfort him, even though he didn’t know what was happening.

—Stiles… You’re hurting yourself…—he spoke to him with the same gentleness.

The brown-haired boy let out a short, heavy sigh, frowning as he closed his eyes, trying to regain some composure.

He was internally grateful that Derek was by his side at that moment, because he was half a step away from leaping at that damn bitch, tearing her head off, impaling it on a stake, and using it as decoration on the Argent house door…

The same one who abused Derek and killed his family, marking him for life. The bitch who unleashed the dragonfly plague that destroyed everything and everyone he had ever known and loved…

Katherine Argent.

He felt an incredible thirst for blood at that moment, taking every ounce of himself to avoid acting recklessly—an impulsive, tempting action that might, perhaps, spare many from pain and even save the world.

He was very inclined to kill the bitch who had caused so much misery. Right there.

But Derek’s hands brought him back to reality. He wouldn’t ruin his life for that damn bitch—he wouldn’t allow it a second time…

As soon as the meeting ended and they were free to leave, Derek gently took his wrist and led him to the nurse’s office, where fortunately the health officer was not present.

He looked for the first-aid kit and began treating the cuts on his palms.

—Stiles… why did you get so angry?—

—I remembered something unpleasant.—he replied in a somewhat dry tone.

His muscles were still tense, and his serious expression astonished the teenage wolf, but he didn’t hear any lies in his heartbeat, although it was hard to tell for sure. The boy’s state was pure alertness.

—Does it have anything to do with the new teacher…?—Derek probed cautiously, looking at his face.

The human tensed even more, if that was possible, clenching his jaw.

—… Don’t ask…—

—Stiles.—

—Stay away from Katherine Argent.—

He looked at him, surprised.

—Why?—he couldn’t help but ask.

Stiles’ eyes finally settled on his, with a firmness that even astonished the wolf.

—Do you trust me?—

—Halfway… So much secrecy on your part doesn’t inspire much trust.—

Stiles’ gaze seemed unyielding, yet somehow it was nostalgic and yearning.

He brought a hand to the back of Derek’s neck and pressed his forehead against his.

—Just trust me, I beg you…—

The slightly pleading tone of Stiles moved the teenager, completely surrendering once again to the younger one. He let out a small, weary sigh and nodded.

For the first time in hours, Stiles smiled.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Fulfilling Stiles’ request wasn’t exactly possible one hundred percent for Derek; after all, she was a French teacher, and he had already been enrolled in that class since the start of the term…

However, he made sure to keep his distance from the woman to avoid causing any problems with the brown-haired boy. As ridiculous as it seemed—and perhaps it was just another item on Stiles Stilinski’s long list of peculiarities—after the introduction of the new teacher, he didn’t want to see such a painful expression again on the face of someone so cheerful and smiling. So if he could indulge him, even if it was strange, he would.

The woman herself didn’t seem bad; she was fairly normal when teaching and didn’t seem to have anything that would make her appear suspicious. Still, he tried not to dwell on the matter too much.

The class had ended and everyone was leaving. Derek slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked near the desk to leave, until he heard the woman’s voice calling to him.

—Mr. Hale, can you stay for a few minutes?—she set down the papers on her desk and gave the teenager a smile.

The wolf looked at her and opened his mouth.

—No, you can’t.—someone beside him replied firmly. —Der, your mother is waiting for you at the school door.—

Stiles’ youthful voice gave the teenager a mini heart attack, as he hadn’t sensed his presence at all, and he looked at him in surprise.

—Go.—the brown-haired boy instructed him without looking at him.

Derek simply nodded, obeying, and left the classroom with a bad feeling about leaving them alone, but something told him Stiles would be very upset if he didn’t go.

He silently prayed that everything would turn out well.