The Offering Day

by Inky_D

Summary:

The Offering day, was just that, the day of the Offering, a normal day where the one that makes the trip or comes into inheritance got their offering of anyone of age as a mate. It was nothing special,it was just something that happened, except when Stiles is involved its anything but normal, and exactly why is that?

Notes:

Ok, so I've got like a whole story that needs to be finished, but I'm having difficulties as freaking S2 totally threw me off my mojo, but I've had this idea boiling in my mind for way to long so I gave it a shot.

Obviously it's AU and the Hale family is still kicking.(yay)
NOT BETAD SORRY! all mistakes are mine. I did go over it at least 3 times and ran the Word Review thingy.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

____________________Chapter 1____________________

It was hellish, the traffic was blocked for miles, not that it mattered to him, he wasn’t driving per say, no, but if the traffic was bad then you could bet top dollar the freaking roads were blocked for miles as well, with everyone and their dead dog out to see.

All he wanted was to go to the corner store and buy a gallon of milk. That trip takes 10 minutes if there was a line at the register. Currently he has been out for over 20 minutes and he isn’t even half way to the store yet.

It was the most annoying shit he’d ever had the pleasure of having to deal with.

Why the hell was it such a big deal if Derek Hale came back to town? Seriously who needed a parade slash welcome party made of the whole town? Astronauts who went to space and came back didn’t get parades anymore, but Derek Hale, Derek Hale; he sure as hell got one.

 

Beacon Hills was alive with the gossip of the return of one of the Hales.

 

The Hales, just their name would give him a migraine, to be fair, Abigail Hale to be exact gave him the migraine, but she was a Hale so by default, the rest of the Hale family also got the burnt of his dislike.

 

He was pushing past the sturdy 20something when he felt an arm loop itself around his neck.

 

“Stiles, dude there you are, your dad said you were getting milk, like 20 minutes ago, what gives?” Scott, his ever loving, best friend with monthly visits and only to brain cells to rub together, was looking at him expectantly, and Stiles gave him a begrudging look.

 

“What gives? Do you see this insane monstrosity before you? You would think the pope was coming?” and to make his point he shoved at another resident of Beacon Hills that was in front of him, loitering in the streets.

 

Scott just gave him a sheepish look. Stiles glared at him in return.

 

“Oh come on, it kinda is a big deal.”

 

“Really? I can see that, totally, the guy goes on his 3-year wolf run or what is normally referred to as a road trip across our great nation comes back and the whole town goes out to meet him. Yes I can see the big deal of it. Clear as day.” Sarcasm heavy on his tone as he finally made it to the door and push it open.

 

“Dude, he is a Hale, they are like Royalty here.” Scott tries again following him down the isles to the refrigerators lining the walls way in the back of the store.

 

“I don’t care, I don’t see the need for the whole freaking town to go and freaking grovel at his feet in awe. I just don’t see it.” He grunts out as he slams the door shut.

 

“Seriously? Or is it the whole grudge from Abigail carrying over to the rest of the family thing again?” Scott asks as they reach the counter, Stiles gives him a scathing look. He hated it when Scott used the two brain cells he had.

 

“Maybe, but still, do you honestly think the behavior that the whole town is showing is appropriate for the arrival of one man?” Stiles fires back, paying the man at the counter who is giving him a pretty nasty look for the words he is saying about the Hales unfortunately Stiles really does not give a crap about said mans opinion.

 

“Kinda,” Scott shrugs his shoulders and does that side smile thing he does before saying something that’s going to piss Stiles off.

 

“Sometimes, dude, you act like you were not raised in a werewolf community. You know, that this is a big deal, as big a deal as its being made of; Derek went out on his own for 3 years, in only his wolf form, no pack, no human beings or werewolves to help and possible hunters that don’t follow a code. He finished his passage of rights thing. And he isn’t even in the line for Alpha, he just did it.”

 

The people started to thin out as they walked back to Stiles house, most of them heading opposite to the town square, Stiles let out a sigh, he had to admit Scott had a point, but there was no hell in way he was actually going to tell Scott that.

 

“Exactly, he was showing off, he didn’t have to do it, it was completely un-necessary, so why do it? I know why, because all Hales are out to make my life miserable, that’s why.” He knew that was a stupid argument to make and that it made no sense. This was nothing new, all the Hales did the run, regardless of being in line for Alpha or not.

 

They were the family of old. They kept to the traditions of old, that had all but faded with the centuries. They kept to almost all the traditions, the only exception was that they didn’t kidnap mates, now they had evolved, and instead people offered their young for it, served right on the silver platter.

 

Human, beta, omega, boy, girl, orange, purple, toad, he was exaggerating on the last three, but still, it really didn’t matter, it was an honor to be chosen by the family of the Alpha, even a distant one. Prestige came with it, and the Hales have held the Alpha title for as long Beacon Hills has been around.

 

Which is why today sucks so much for him.

 

Derek coming back signified a horrifying day for him, tomorrow would be the Offering, where you either were good enough to be chosen to be a Hale or just really sexual release that was pent up for almost 3 years, and then you got to go home and brag to all your friends and family about how awesome it was to be basically nothing more than a wanton body.

 

And if you were not either of those, you were the loser, usually it didn’t really suck as much when you were not the only one, after all there were hundreds of 16 to 24 year olds that applied for the position and only one got it.

 

It wasn’t about the humiliation so much as self-loathing that you couldn’t even pass for a sexual release partner let alone mate. It was brutal, but if Stiles was being honest with himself, in the whole community he probably is the only one who saw the Offering day like this, everyone else was excited when it happened.

 

They reached his house in record time; he opened the milk and added it to his bowl of cereal he had poured earlier in a bowl before he had realized they had no milk in the house.

Next to it his dad had left him a small sticky note.
‘Gone, had to go in early more men were needed to make sure there will be order and avoid any stampedes. I’m the Sheriff its my job, love you’ Short to the point, he picked it up and crumpled it.

Derek Hale ruining his first breakfast with is dad in over 3 months. Yes Stiles really hated the guy.

 

Scott had kept to himself after Stiles had complained and he just rummaged around his pantry and joined him on the kitchen table, eating cereal as well.

 

“So,” Stiles was never one to keep quiet for to long. It was his only flaw in his honest opinion. He was human but was exceptionally bright, that alone made his mind wonder too much and the longer it was quiet the more his mind wondered around in creepy places it had no place being, so it helped when he talked and distracted the thoughts from poking their noses into places they didn’t belong in.

 

“You going to the Offering?” He tried to be casual about asking, Scott chocked on the cereal, ok so it wasn’t that casual.

 

“What?” Scott managed to get out after trying to cough a lung out, and failing.

 

“At the Offering tomorrow, are you going? I don’t know how much clearer I can be about it?” and he pushed the cheerios around the milk. He really wasn’t hungry anymore.

 

Scott thought for a bit, and scrunched his face like it hurt him to do so, which probably it did.

 

“I don’t know to be honest, I mean, yeah I really, really have the hotts for Allison but its not like that’s going anywhere fast with her being a hunter in training and all.” And now Scott was matching Stiles unhappy disposition.

 

“Hey, come on now, its not like she is training to actually kill you personally or any of them, she is more like the werewolf police, for when you know, your kind does that thing with the teeth and jugular and ripping of flesh thing after eating a bad fish or whatever sets you guys off.” He tries to make his friend feel better; he might have succeeded till he mentioned the flesh-eating thing.

 

“Seriously though, she so epically nice, and for some strange odd reason she does find your inability to form thoughts more profound then fourth grade literature not off putting, that’s got to say something.” And he reaches across the table and punches Scott on the shoulder.

 

“You really should say something to her, again she basically training to be a werewolf cop. I mean do you see any human avoid the police like the plague?” Stiles is a badass friend and anyone else that said other wise, would have to say it to his face.

 

Scott is smiling a megawatt and looks hopeful again or it could just be his usual dopy self either way it makes Stiles feel a little better.

 

“Well, after the Offering tomorrow I will ask her.” Scott looks determined and Stiles just raises and eyebrow.

 

“Why wait till tomorrow? Day is still young?”

 

“Dude, do you want to be there alone tomorrow?” Scott looks at him expectantly. And Stiles thanks all deities he knows that Scott was a werewolf and had the whole pack mentality going for him.

 

“No, god, no. Can you imagine me there all alone? I’d probably give myself a panic attack, and wouldn’t that be pretty? Foaming at the mouth and twitching, a picture of sexiness if I do say so myself.” And for once since today began he was feeling like he was back to himself again.

 

“So, what do you think it will be like tomorrow?” Scott asks, cause he was Stiles friend and naturally that meant he had at least exhibit a quality that Stiles related to. Scott hated the quiet as much as he did.

 

“The usual, we are all lined up for the slaughter, and hold our breath till its over, and before us will sit, his royal annoying highness that is Derek Hale, and behind him watching all pride and stuffy-ness, yes that’s a word, would be the rest of the Hale family. Fun. Like some one raking their nails over the chalk board fun.” He finished lamely and Scott just chuckled at him.

 

“Who do you think he will choose? I’m thinking, for dude it will be Brad the mechanic, and girl I will have to say Lydia.” And he winced when he said her name, knowing full well, that Stiles was pining after her, actually the whole town knew, it some how it had escaped Lydia, how he isn’t sure, since he had asked her directly and professed his love to her face over a dozen times but hey, he is Stiles, what else is he going to expect.

 

“I’m with you on the whole Lydia, thing, as much as it pains me, but I can totally see it, if he actually does not choose her I’m going to think there is something wrong with him. She is everything and a little bit more all wrapped in a nice curvy package with beautiful lips, eyes that could kill and extra strawberry hair. As for guy, I’m hoping Jackson, really, really hoping its Jackson if he goes for the guys.” And he looked at Scott who was staring at him all confused.

 

“I can’t think of a more hellish thing to put Douche Jackson through than having to bottom. Can you?” And Scott just laughs and Stiles joins him because honestly, he could just see Jacksons' outraged face and yeah it was that funny.

 

Somewhere he hears the loud cheers, and if he hadn’t Scotts' suddenly perked up ear would of informed; Derek Hale had officially entered Beacon Hills territory.

 

Losing any appetite he might have gotten back Stiles just got up and put his bowl in the sink, Scott following close behind.

 

The living room sofa called out to him and he collapsed on it, today would have been a school day, but hey, Derek, so free day, and so they had planned XBOX360 day except Stiles couldn’t bring himself to actually attempt to play so he settled for searching Netflix for something to catch his eye and let his brain rot.

 

He heard his dad pull up and he looked up and noticed that it was already passed six in the after noon, and aside from going to answer the door to get he pizza him and Scott hadn’t moved an inch.

 

“Seriously boys, did actually accomplish anything today?” his dad asked as he entered, removing his hat, and staring at the two.

 

Scott gave his little sheepish smile; Stiles just raised his eyebrow at his parent with apparently way out of this world high expectations.

“Seriously dad, what do you think? If it makes you feel better we actually answered the door instead of making the delivery guy come in? So in way we did?” his dad rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen and got out a bottle of water.

 

“Better than nothing so I’ll take it, you guys missed Derek coming in,” and at Stiles groan, he turned to Scott for an explanation, and only got a shrug in return.

 

“He looked good, tired, but good.” His dad offered.

 

“Are you trying to pimp him out to me dad? Cause just don’t.” Stiles was not going to have any of this. Not in this planet anyway.

 

“What? No, I just meant as an observation, why would I pimp him out?” his dad took a seat on the chair across from him.

 

“The Offering tomorrow,” Scott supplied the answer.

 

His dad made a grimaced face, but chose not to make a comment by drinking in stead.

 

“You think it would go unnoticed if I didn’t go?” Stiles lifted his head up from the pillow to look at the two.

 

“What do you think?” Scott asked his dad remained quiet.

 

“Yes.” He offered.

 

“No, everyone would notice, you tend to stick out like a soar thumb, and you are the sheriffs son, you are basically the royalty of the humans,” Scott helped in his own way, not really, the guy couldn’t lie to make Stiles feel better for a whole second? What kind of a friend was he?

 

“Royalty my ass, whatever,” and he tired to suffocate himself once more with the pillow, he heard his dad move to stand up.

“Well, the both of you seem to be doing alright, and my break is ending, so, I will try not to be late tonight, I shouldn’t have to much paper work, so you two, clean up the mess in the living room before I return.” He heard his dad say, and felt him scratch his head before the front door was opening and closing.

 

They were alone again, there was a quiet that hung in the air after wards.

 

“I wonder how good he looks.”

 

“Shut up Scott,” he mumbled and turned to face the TV, with nothing else being said between them, they proceeded to continue their eventful day.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Notes:

Again not betad sorry in advance, I am looking for one still.

____________________Chapter 2 ____________________

Morning came faster than Stiles expected it to.

The sun was shining bright, and right on his face. The day began as wonderfully as Stiles expected it to.

Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to just crawl back into the covers and melt into extinction, and he did just that.

For at least a few minutes he got to enjoy peace, to put his mind at ease as all of his thoughts left him and sleep started to sneak up on him. The edges of his mind just began to fade in.

He had just found his sweet spot on the bed, on his stomach face to the side, covered all away with the exception of his foot, for that little breather so he wouldn’t get to hot, when the horns sounded.

He shot up off the bed, trying to scramble and managing to just get more twisted in his bedding, somewhere in the struggle a pillow got involved and then he hit the edge of the bed, it felt like falling off a cliff, his descent was short and his butt collided with the floor of his room.

Grumbling, Stiles managed to finally yank the overs off, and curse the pillow for not falling before him to brace his fall, he kicked it to the side, and glared at the window of his room.

The horns had finally stopped but only to be replaced by the annoying towns announcement system.

DJ Randys voice filtered past his windows, he was making the Offering day announcement, Stiles morning was off to a very good start.

He heard his dad fumble before the knock came at his door.

“Stiles, son, you awake?” his dad sounded in a hurry, he probably had to be at the Ceremony Hall soon to prepare and he more than likely was late.

“Dad, the horns could have woken the dead, and honestly I am very tempted to hit the cemetery to make sure, but yeah I’m up.” As he was talking his dad had opened the door and poked his head in.

At Stiles state on the floor, he raised and eyebrow, but didn’t ask anything, he didn’t have too.

“The pillow got lippy with the covers, I happened to get in between their little fight.” His dad just rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened, anyway, I am going to be heading out, the Sheriff and all, have to be at the hall with the rest of the heads of the city, just wanted to make sure you were up.” he looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to say anything else, but then one look at Stiles and he got his answer.

He walked in instead and stood before Stiles, who just crossed his legs.

“Look son, this, this thing, its ok if you don’t get picked, and if you do, I’m pretty sure Derek would be lucky to have you, and I’m sure he is a nice guy and wouldn’t make you do anything you wouldn’t feel comfortable doing,” and his dad winced, but plowed through. “I mean I know this is probably less than ideal but it’s the rules, and I am not sure how the whole werewolf thing goes, but I’m sure it’s the same as its for the humans,”

Stiles made a face of complete horror as it dawned on him where this conversation was going.

“Ok. No. No way, we are not having the birds and the bees sex talk like right now, no way, no,” and Stiles got up, stomping over to his dad, he grabbed him by his shoulders and proceeded to walk him to the door.

“Didn’t you have to be somewhere anyway?” And with one last push his dad was out of his room.

“Yeah, well, dress nice ok, just because you don’t like it, does not mean you can get away showing up in your pajamas.” His dad knew him way to well.

“What? I’m hurt I would like to think Derek would find my Deadpool pj’s drop dead sexy and want to have his way with me, and oh my god, I just said that to you, you know, never mind, go,” and he motioned with his hands. “Seriously, go before my morning gets any better, and I promise I will try my best to look nice and clean, so shoo, shoo.” His dad just shook his head and walked off, Stiles took a step back into his room and slammed his door shut.

This day was progressing in the direction he had predicted except a little worse than he had imagined.

He took a quick shower, and made sure to use all the unscented bath products. The stupid Offering required that all the participants come with only their scent on as much as possible, it was for the wolfs convenience, with their whole smelling and scent marking.

As he was getting out of the tub, he got the bathroom floor wet causing him to slip and fall ass first on the floor. His elbow hit the tubs edge, the pain shot right up to his shoulder and he just knew that a nice beautiful big ass blue bruise was beginning to form.

Cursing all the deities he knew, he moved to get up, making sure that he didn’t slip again; he got on the small matt by the sink the foggy mirror showed him a skin colored blur.

He shook his head at it, and opened the door to let out the steam, obviously the stupid ventilation in the bathroom wasn’t working, but it was making the noise like it was.

Pulling on the towel rack, he managed to pull of his fluffy green towel.

Unfortunately the moment the towel got closer the lavender smell of the fabric softener hit his nose and he knew drying was out of the question.

Stupid werewolves, their stupid sensitive noses, and their stupid ideologies of not liking nice smelling things, he was going to catch a cold because of this.

For fucks sake the man spent 3 years as a wolf, you would think he would like to smell things that reminded him of his humanity at least a little bit.

Stiles threw the towel on the floor where he had slipped and let it soak up the water spill, as he walked into his bedroom, the bed was as he had left it, majority of it on the floor.

As he walked to the dresser he remembered he had just done a load of laundry and all of it smelled lavender or detergent. Fan-fucking-tastic.

So his options of going to the Offering was nude or smelling like detergent soap, something told him nude would be the better choice.

Stiles really had shitty luck, he plopped on his bed, and tried to think of anything he hadn’t worn in a while that maybe lost its detergent scent.

The small vrrr of his phone vibrating on the table caught his attention and he reached for it.

Scotts name glared at him from the screen.

‘You up?’

Biting his lip, Stiles was tempted to text him back no, but he knew better, Scott would show up before Stiles even made it to his dresser for a pair of underpants.

Yeah, having prob, all clths smell. U?
He didn’t have to wait long, Scott replied instantly.

Ouch, be there soon, try to help.

For once Stiles thought Scott had bright idea, he opened up a reply and wrote k and then opened up the list and added todays date and next to it, he wrote.
‘Scott had an idea, its good enough that it might work.’

So he kept a list of his friends shining moments, it started as a joke but after a while it just became another thing Stiles did, when Scott had found out about the list it hadn’t been pretty eventually he had gotten used to it.

Stiles pulled up the comforter to cover himself just as Scott walked through his window.

“Dude, we have a door, two in fact.” Scott just rolled his eyes; this was an almost daily occurrence.

“Yeah, yeah, why are you naked?” Stiles just looked at his friend pointedly.

“I could’ve sworn I texted that part to you?” and he made a show of waving his phone in front of Scott.

“Right, I thought you just meant the outfit in general.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t, so lets put that wolf nose of yours to good use and find me something to wear.” Scott looked at him and smiled, the one that usually meant bad news for Stiles.

“Well, you could always go naked.” Stiles looked at his friend straight in the eye and with a deadpan face.

“I go there nude, and I can guarantee that you will never, ever, even get within ten feet of Allison Argent without arrows going up your ass. You understand where I’m going with this?”

Scott looked like someone had walked over his grave before nodding and starting to sniff his bedroom.

Settling in his bed, he looked at his friend and began to compare the two of them.
That went great until he hit the physical aspects and then Scott led the list with his perfect abs and olive skin tone and the puppy eyes.
He threw a pen he found on the table at his friend who turned to look at him.

“I’m mad at your abs.” Scott chuckled but didn’t stop his hunt for Stiles clothes.

“So, how freaked out are form 1 to 10? 10 being wish you were on another planet.” Scott stopped his sniffing, and faced him.

“I’m going to go with 6.” At Stiles questioning gaze, Scott elaborated. “He has been out as a wolf for 3 years. Nothing good comes from wolfing out, trust me, I only do it when I need to and only for a short amount of time, but still, when you get back to being human, sometimes its really hard to adjust.”

He picked up his search again, but continued to explain.

“It’s the whole animal urges thing. It gets disorienting. Besides those, he is a Hale, and the brother of Abigail Hale, how does that saying go, apples don’t fall to far from the tree?” And he pulled out a pair of boxers, Stiles hasn’t seen in years. Mostly because they are a little small on him now, and boy did they fit snug.

“You?” Scott asked in return, his face sniffing his shirts as he pulled them out of the hangers and drawers and littered the floor with them. “Seriously dude, how the hell did you forget to at least clean the clothes you were going to wear today?”

Giving Scott a scathing look for his last question, which he chose to ignore, he bit his lip.

“Honestly? I’m somewhere at number 56.” Scott stopped sniffing his Captain America t-shirt and looked at him.

“You said 1 to 10 earlier.”

“Yes well, I don’t think 10 is enough to encompasses my inability to process and like the situation I am being forced into.” And Scott just continued to look at him.
“What? Look I don’t care if the whole town or world is participating also, you asked me the question and I am telling you how I feel, which is crappy and freaked out, so don’t give me that look.” Scott just shook his head and continued his quest for clothes for Stiles.

Silence overtook the room, and Stiles lost himself in his thoughts for a bit before a pair of dark wash jeans was thrown in his face, and he looked at them and winced.

Seriously today couldn’t get any worse.
“Please tell me that there is more for you to sniff and this isn’t all I have to wear?” he pleaded with Scott, who threw two shirts down by his feet and shook his head.
“Fuck my life.” Scott stopped then and turned to him.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Give me a moment and I will show you.” After pulling on the pants Scott made a face. The stupid jeans were short, his ankles were showing, Stiles felt personally attacked by mystical powers unknown.

“It could be worse.” He heard Scott say as another shirt hit the floor.

“Exactly how do you see anything worse than this?”

“You could be naked.” Stiles opened his mouth to retort but decided against it.

He walked up to the mirror and looked at himself, naked torso, and pants to short of his legs.

He looked like he was wearing ten year olds clothes. Ridiculous.

“Hey, you think if I folded them up a little they would be ok as capri looking pants?” He asked Scott.

Stiles didn’t wait for an answer and decided to fold the pants up two times, it looked better, odd, but not completely idiotic.

Then Scott came with his chosen shirt of choice and Stiles wanted to be buried alive.

“Please I beg of you, do you not see me know? Please tell me you are trying to be funny.” At Scotts’ wince he reached for the shirt and put it on.
It was tight.
It was a little short, reaching only just a bit past the button of the jeans.
It had Sailor Moon on it.

If he had been trying he couldn’t have come up with the atrocity he was wearing.

“This is my life.” He said dejectedly Scott just patted his shoulder.
“Seriously dude, I told my dad I would try to dress nice.” And he didn’t whine he complained all manly.

Scott opened his mouth and Stiles just looked at him.

“At this point I would rather go naked.”
Another pat on the back by his friend, he picked up his phone put it inside the back pocket, and followed Scott downstairs.

They were out the door a bowl of cereal later and inside Stiles jeep.

The closer they got to the Hall the thicker the traffic got and the more freaked out Stiles got. At some point between finding a parking spot by the churchyard a few streets over from the Hall, Stiles had a mini panic attack; thank god Scott was there to bring him back.

Walking eased his mind a little, until they started to reach throngs of people and then suddenly he noticed every ones eyes on him.

The only good thing and also the most awful thing about the stupid Offering was that at least it went Alphabetical order, and you were alone in the room with the one doing the choosing and the heads of the House, Mayor, and Sheriff, which Stiles really was not looking forward to seeing his dads face when he saw what Stiles was wearing.

Still as good as it was, it was also nerve wrecking. You just stood there in front of the person for five minutes, and depending on who was doing the choosing, you either got sniffed at like a dog, or just stared down or they asked questions.

As bad as interviewing for a job except you could quit that when it got to be unbarable, mating didn’t work like that. It was permanent.

How the hell was that fair? A sniff or a simple question should not be the deciding factor of whom a person ended up with. There was no question big enough to encompass a lifetime with a person.

Shaking like a leaf he really wanted to hold Scotts hand, and he would have except for the whole smelling like someone else thing.
God he hated this day.

By the time they reached end of the line, the panel was beginning on L’s and that meant Scott was going first.
His best friend gave him a reassuring smile, wished him good luck and went to take his place in line by the M’s.
Stiles looked at the S’s and found his place between Anna, and Jason.

As he got closer Anna’s eyebrows rose up so high they nearly went into her hairline.

Jason just chuckled.

“Seriously Stilinski?” Anna asked, Stiles just glared at her, and sat down in his chair.
She was dressed in a nice summer dress that hugged just the right parts, didn’t have two many flowers and the cut was dangerously low.
Her hair was in a simple ponytail, make-up done to look more natural, all and all she looked stunning.
“Stiles, what statement are you exactly trying to make?” Jason kept looking him up and down, at the train wreck of dark Capri looking pants, with a Sailor Moon shirt that Scott was at fault for buying it for him as a joke, and the black converse to top it off.

If he was a girl, it might have worked somehow, seeing as he wasn’t, he looked like a train wreck. Well at least he was a guarantee not to be picked, smell or question right, no one could possibly look past his attire, he couldn’t look past his attire, and he was wearing it.

“I’m choosing not to answer your question not because I’m insulted, I just honestly don’t have an answer.” And he leaned back, closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face.

It wasn’t long before the line moved and the M’s started herded thru.

Pretty soon Stiles heard Scott being called with four others to wait inside a room before they would individually get assessed.

After that the rest of the wait pretty much went in a haze for him and then he heard his name called and the looks he received as he moved inside the hall to wait with the rest of the 4 inside did not put him at ease.

He really wanted to say something to organizers as they kept stealing quick glances and shaking their head but he bit his tongue.

As the other occupants in the room started to thin out and pretty soon it was just him and Anna he felt his heart beat faster than he ever remembered it beating, and so strong and loud that it almost came out of his chest.

Anna kicked his chair leg and smiled at him and he breathed a little easier.
And then just as suddenly Anna was gone and he was alone, and next.

Getting up, his legs shaking like a leaf, he wrung his hands and then rubbed them on his pants trying to dry them off.
The door in front of him opened, he licked his lips but made no move to even enter.
He was frozen in place. A few minutes that felt like life times past.
“Stilinski.” His name came from the inside, loud and clear, and he just instinctively answered.
“Hold your horses, it’s not like your decision messes with the rest of my life or anything, oh wait, yes it does.” He really needs to never speak ever.

________________________________________

Notes:

Thanks for all the comments, and Kudos.
I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story so much! :)

Also sorry not much Derek in this chapter, but promise the next one is full of him and Stiles and yes insanity.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Notes:

Sorry took so long, had a bit of a writers block.
So Chapter 3 is up.

As always it's not beta'd (Teen Wolf Betas are hard to find, like really really hard) but I had it looked over twice.
Mistakes are all me, if you spot em, send em my way so I can fix em.

Kudos and Comments are awesome and keep me going in my dark writer blocked moments.

____________________Chapter 3____________________

The room was bigger than he remembered, or maybe it was a lot more intimidating, especially when his father was across from him, along with the mayor and the heads of the Hale house.

All looking at him, staring right at him.

Judging him and with what he was wearing he under stood. As first impressions went, Stiles give his a 3 out of 10.

The 3 is mostly for shock value.

After the quiet got to be too much for him, he shuffled on his feet and cleared his throat, his eyes going every which way.
Not once landing where they desperately wanted to go.

It would have been easy for his eyes to shift a little to the left and take in Derek Hale. Well the new Derek Hale, the one that went thru trials and tribulations, the one that came back a man or whatever bull shit they got fed so they could feel better about themselves running away either from their problems, or families or worse yet, the family fed itself so they didn’t have to feel bad about not being able to handle their kid.

Stiles does not pretend to understand, and until it interfered with his life, he didn’t even care about it.
Now though, now it was part of his life, well it might be part of his life, the verdict is still out, and he hopes it’s a no.

Anyway no one should feel what he is feeling right now, even if the only person feeling what he is feeling is him.

He closed his eyes real quick and shook his head; sometimes his thought pattern hurt him just as much as it hurt others. Coherency, who knew it was good for something?

“Stilinski?” An unsure voice broke his thought monologue about coherency and he looked to the voice, Iris Hale was giving his dad a side look. Probably not believing that what stood before her was related to the sheriff.
His dad on the other hand still hadn’t stopped staring at him, for good reason.

“You are Stilinski right?” This time Stiles jumped slightly as Jack Hale a.k.a Derek’s’ Dad, a.k.a Very Freaking Scary Shit In Your Pants Alpha asked.

He nodded his head quickly and abruptly not trusting his voice or mouth for that matter. He already screwed up to begin with.
Scary Alpha just made a face and nodded his head.

“Alright, what do you have to offer?” Stiles just looked at the man his eyes to afraid to go anywhere else.
And as the words registered in his brain, he tilted his head to the side.

“Offer? To what?” and he licked his lips. “To this? As in was I supposed to bring something? I mean I guess its understandable this is a gathering of sorts…I mean it’s not like it was written on the invites or did you guys send invites? Of course you didn’t, this isn’t an invite sort of thing. So offer? Right, well, hm…I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one that this is a surprise for but, I bet it was easier for the girls.” He was jumping from one foot to the other, hands flailing everywhere.

“I mean, hey, they can like give birth and stuff so that’s like a offering, and some people can do tricks, have money, I don’t know, I mean when you think about it, money? Really do you guys need that? Is it necessary for your survival? You kinda don’t play by the human rules so I guess not, although, this lovely thing is kinda odd. I mean hello messing with peoples nerves, emotions, total insecurities, and” He had walked to the side and was playing with something he had found on the table when it hit him exactly what the hell he was doing and where he was doing it.

“Um. What was the question again?” and he put down the decoration slowly as to not damage it.

And it figures it would just hit another and send the whole vase of random inanimate objects flying and causing a crash that vibrated through out the hall, making him cringe.

“Offer…Right, um, nothing but awesome research skills that only come in handy for papers that are useless in real life and putting puzzles together, but I do make a mean soufflé.” At the end of his sentence he felt like it needed an ending and especially with the looks the room’s occupants were giving him.

“Thank, you?” and with a bow that probably no one did in this day and age. He ran to the first door he saw directly in front of him, not even waiting to be dismissed.

He didn’t look back or at his dad, he didn’t need to look back to know the exact face his dad was making. He had put him in these situations often enough that Stiles memorized his dads disbelief face.

Slamming the door shut behind him, he took in the room he entered, it was dark and it smelled bad.
Figures he would enter a supply closet.

Stiles tried to debate what course of action was safer, staying in the supply closet and slowly but surely suffocate from the awful cleaning smells or going out and facing the stares again, when a strong whiff of Clorox had him opening the door faster that he could process what was happening.

And once again he was in the room, the stares were right were he had left them, right on him. Great.

“Yeah, so wrong door, hm, you should label that,” and he turned around and took in the small label on the door. “Or never mind, it’s labeled, maybe make it a nicer bigger font, yeah.” And he twirled till he saw another door and started to march down to it.
“Again, thanks, and honestly I have nothing else to say to you aside from call me or you know not.” Stiles yanked the door open stepped thru the thresh hold and closed it behind him.

He took in the face of the receptionist waiting for him with his orange hand band that showed the world that he was off limits and under considerations of a potential mate and or fuck buddy until further notice.

Of course the damn receptionist had to be a werewolf and of course she had to hear the whole crap Stiles had spewed in there and of course cause his luck was that fantastic she probably was going to tweet it if she didn’t already.

He just held out his hand and waited for the shackle to be placed on it and with a curt head nod he took his final steps to freedom.

Scott was sitting on the bench a little off under the tree and perked up when Stiles exited.

“Hey, wasn’t so bad was it?” and he bumped shoulders with him.
Sitles just stared at his buddy for a little while, trying to figure out if his friend was really that dumb or just so optimistic that it had to be illegal in some part of the world.

“Depends, does going off on a tangent about offering things and girls giving babies and then semi insulting the Offering topping it with running in a supply closet and then giving them advice on how to better make the sign of said supply closet more noticeable and while leaving telling them to call me or not, is seen as not so bad. What do you think?” Stiles had to stop walking since Scott had stopped a few steps back and was staring at him, mouth open and eyes as wide as they could possibly go.

“Seriously?” Scott finally got a handle on his mouth.

“Seriously.” And Stiles rubbed his face, pulled his cheeks down with the palms of his hands.
“What the hell?” Scott jogged up and was next to him.

“I don’t know, ok.” And he let out a breath he had been holding and took a seat on the fountain edge, his posture slumped but honestly he had bigger fish to fry than his posture right now.

“I mean after the whole insulting them before going in thing, it just went down hill, I don’t even know how.” Scott just shook his head but didn’t say anything.

What could he say anyway?

What’s done is done, and well Stiles made his bed, now he has to lay in it.

“What do you think dad is gonna say?” he asked as he fumbled with the orange ring around his wrist.
“Never mind don’t answer that. How about how do you think you did in there?”

“Well, I wasn’t as memorable as you, I just stood there, Derek looked at me, sized me up, gave a low growl, eyes flashing blue and creepy then they told me to transform and then good and they told me to take the door on my left.” Stiles looked at his friend for a bit and then just slumped even further into his position.

“Seriously? For fucks sake, I hate werewolves, nothing personal buddy, but why couldn’t my test been like that? How come I got the question? You know what, they could of just stared at me too, growled and then waved me off, why ask me?” and he dropped his face on his hands trying to block everything from the outside world.

They sat in silence for what could be described as an eternity, which translated roughly 45 minutes. Scott doing his wolf pack mentality to stay close to the friend slash pack mate, and Stiles just tried to kill himself in his mind over and over again. The usual.

“Stilinski, McCall, what are you two moping about?” Jacksons voice flooded to them, apparently the Offering had went thru the W’s. “Who ran over his puppy?” Scott just growled at him and Stiles didn’t even bother to pull his face out of his hands.

“Not now Jackson, not a good time.” Scott said on his behalf.

“Whatever, I think I did pretty good in there, still, I probably won’t be picked, I’m to macho you know they always pick the dandy ones.” At that Stiles pulled up from his hands.

“You macho? I got gold fish, well, I had gold fish who were more macho than you, so shut the fuck up.” And he glared at him.
Jackson’s eyebrows went up, and a growl started to form at the back of his throat, his eyes glowing yellow, threatening, Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“Dude, I just told the Alpha to call me or not, in Capri pants and a Sailor Moon shirt, do you seriously think that you scare me right now?”

Jackson stared at him open mouthed, blinked a few times then he looked like he was going to ask what, when Danny appeared and his attention was riveted to his best buddy, which Stiles thinks is secretly his fuck buddy as well.

Had to be. Jackson was a nightmare, and Danny was Danny. There had to be a reason that they were so close. God only knew what it was, but Stiles bets it’s the sex.

He isn’t gay or has experimented, unless you call the accidental kiss with Scott while wrestling around when they were ten ‘experimenting’. But, even he found Danny attractive, on everything; he had personality, brains, and body.

That awesome train thought came to an abrupt end, when a shadow fell over their little group.

Scott and Jackson immediately shrunk a little and Danny tilted his head to the side, baring his neck.

“Stilinski, right?” The gruff voice spoke to him and washed over him sending shivers though out his body.

Stiles turned around and came face to pecs, Derek Hales’ pecs.
Awesome.

“Yeah?” He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, this probably couldn’t get any worse but with his luck, it’s always better to prepare for more to come.

Derek didn’t say anything for a long time, and then he did this little up and down move that Stiles had perfected on Lydia at very young and impressionable age, but that was neither here or there.

Rolling his eyes in Stiles general direction, Derek looked passed him and took in the other three. His eyes glowed blue for all of a second, and all of that second was enough to send the three packing, leaving Stiles here with currently his least favorite person ever.

“Was that really necessary? Cause honestly I don’t think so? Seriously? What was Scott and Jackson supposed to do to you? Mr. Survived 3 Years Out In The World and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt.” At Derek’s impressive glare of death, that was currently burning Stiles from the inside, he licked his lips and bitt the bottom one to insure his mouth wouldn’t run off again any time soon.

 

“Right, come with me.” With that Derek just turned and walked off. Stiles stood there, blinking at the retreating back of the older guy.

Was Derek being serious?

“Stilinski, Get. Over. Here.” Derek had stopped after he noticed that Stiles hadn’t moved an inch to follow him, his words were curt and promised pain Stiles had only read of in books and seen in movies.

“Now.” And Stiles took off, tripping over his feet as he reached Derek who stretched his hands out to catch Stiles before his face said hello to the pavement.

“Hey there, catch random flailing teens tripping over their own to feet often?” Derek just glared. “Right, not much of a talker, but hey at least you’ve got the looks, if you had the mouth like Abigail I might just have to resort to poisoning you with Wolfsbane some how.”

“Shut up.”

“Shutting up, yes-sirie Bob. Hm. That’s a strange saying. Yes-sirie Bob? I wonder who made it? Probably some person addressing a Bob, but how did it catch on though?” and Stiles felt himself fall before the cement of the sidewalk said hello to his face personally.

“You talk to much, curb it, I have a week of solitude confinement with you, and your supposed to make it out alive, if you continue talking, that might just not happen.” Derek talked above him, somewhere past the pain shooting up his nerves it registered to Stiles what Derek had said and he nearly gave himself a whiplash to go with the throbbing bump on his fore head.

“A Week? Confinement? How high are you!?” and he was trying to get a firm hold on something to pull himself up, which, lucky him, happened to be Derek’s leg. It was firm, as firm as it looked, another reason to hate the dude.

“Don’t make me regret this more than I already am. Now stop flailing.” And he grabbed Stiles by the back of his shirt and hauled him up, his face completely past the personal bubble perimeters.
“You’re making a scene.” Derek let go of him and walked off, again, this time Stiles even though in shock followed his hands twisting and fingers popping, he was past nervous and ridding the anxious train to the station, first class.

Stiles was having one of his awesome mental communications with this mind, trying to ease his body and brain from starting to go into panic attack mode when he walked straight into a door.
Literally, a door, a freaking door. His forehead wasn’t going to be a normal size till he either died or got it fixed. He was a unicorn. Oh My God, how crazy was his mind right now.

Shaking his mental lashing of his mental mind he looked at the door and noticed that somewhere along the way Derek had lead them back to the Hall and he had just walked into the glass doors.
The receptionist from earlier was there sitting down and staring at him. Except this time she kept going back and forth from him to Derek, who was on the other side of the door staring at him.

Seriously if looks could kill Stiles would have been fish fillets roasted till charcoal black and flaking to nothingness.

He picked the handle and opened the door, as soon as he stepped foot inside the Hall, Derek turned and left, again Stiles followed except this time he was making faces at Derek.

Exactly who did he think he was? He was sticking his tongue out at Derek’s back when he noticed that they were not alone.

He was back in the horrid room, except Derek wasn’t in the thrown judging him, he was standing right in front of Stiles, looking directly at the same people Stiles had only an hour ago vowed to never, ever, ever cross paths with, except his dad, but that was totally different.

“Derek,” Iris Hale had gotten up, and was looking between Derek and Stiles, with good reason, a great reason that even Stiles felt was justified.

“It is my decision, and I want him.” Derek spoke firmly cutting any question his mother might have had for their either week of fucking or his untimely marriage. Stiles felt cheated.

“That’s, great, I mean, really flattered here, but how about what I want? Do I get a say in said decision?” Stiles spoke up; his brain and mouth are trying to kill him. He always suspected that, but now he had proof.

The whole room, which included Derek, turned to stare at him. His dad had a pained look on his face. The same pained look he had when Stiles thought it was awesome to try his hand I’m making his moms famous 4-cheese lasagna. The Please God All Mighty NO pained face.

Except the answer was yes, yes Stiles had really gone there.

The room was quiet and he really wanted to fidget a little, but thought it probably was a bad idea, considering what he had just blabbed to the basically highest form of authority in their city.

“No.” Derek’s voice penetrated Stiles skull and vibrated though out the room.

“What?”

“No, you don’t get a say,” and he turned around, walked off to the door, and paused. “I will pick you up at 6 get whatever you think you need ready. If you don’t have them I will just drag you with me, stuff or not. Understood.” And the door closed behind him, leaving Stiles in a room with a bunch of people he didn’t really want to be in with, in complete total silence.

“So he comes in two settings I see, Anger Issues and Douche. This is gonna be fantastic.”

____________________

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Notes:

Hi, hi! Ok I know it's been..hm...longer than I thought I was going to be, but, I'm back, and so is this chapter!
The awesome thing is, it has been BETA READ!!! YAY!!!!!
Everyone with me now, lets thank the great RaccoonLoon !!!! for being bad ass and doing this for me!
So everyone, enjoy the chapter!

____________________Chapter 4 ____________________

It was the mindless chatter, the hundred words per minute that was coherent to no one except possibly the one who was uttering them that Derek remembered.

 

The snappy, nerdy comebacks dripping with sarcasm echoed around him and suddenly Derek felt there was hope in this fiasco.

 

A way out, a simple way out. It might cost him his hearing and whatever he had left of his patience but maybe, just maybe, he would be out of the metaphorical woods relatively unscathed.

 

“The kid walked into the supply closet for god’s sake!” he heard his mom whisper to his dad, who most likely wore a lazy smile and a raised eyebrow.

 

“Yes, dear, I was there, remember?” his dad said to his mom after a moment of silence, where Derek imagined his mother’s pointed look dropping two degrees below zero.

 

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?” There came a loud thump, the sound of someone slamming the palms of their hands on the dining room table. Derek was just outside, sitting on the porch and pretending he wasn’t hearing their conversation while his parents pretended that he wasn’t there.

 

“Exactly what do you want me to say?” his dad said. His mom was probably opening and closing her mouth, off-guard by the question before she’d spin around and right on cue Derek hears the scrape of her heel on the tiled floor.

 

“Anything,” she finally said, refusing to back down.

 

“Hun, not to overstep my boundary, and also because I really don’t relish the thought of sleeping on the sofa anytime soon, but aren’t you overreacting just a little?” his dad said, and Derek smiles at that. Alpha of the Hale pack, feared throughout the east coast and half of the south, respected by his peers across the lands and completely in fear of his own mate and the threat of a sofa.

 

For reasons that he never understood and probably never will, he thought that what his parents had was perfect, something everyone should aspire to have. He wanted it so bad, but he already knew that was never going to happen. It made the whole Offering ordeal even more dreadful.

 

After Kate, Derek wasn’t exactly eager to jump into dating, or even just looking. One night stands were a disaster. He let the whole love, mate, and marriage thing burn in the back of his mind until it simmered into nothing but a reminder that those things were not for him.

 

He tuned in just in time to hear his mom huff and take a seat at the table.

 

“I know I’m overstepping my boundary and that it’s not my decision, but…” and Derek didn’t need to see them to know that his mom was shaking her long brown hair in frustration, scratching at her scalp. “But…you saw what he was wearing!” and her voice whined at the end.

 

He heard his dad chuckle and pick up his tea, followed by barely audible sips. It was a rule that if his mom was frustrated, you let her deal with it until she let it all out. She usually calmed down better that way.

 

“I mean, there probably was a reason behind it, but then he was all mouth and talking and he walked into a SUPPLY CLOSET for god’s sake and then came out talking about the label…I just don’t understand.” Another thud, lighter this time, letting Derek know his mom finally let her head drop on the table.

 

“So, is that it or is there more?” his dad asked.

“That wasn’t enough for you?”

 

“Nope, it was plenty. I just meant we should be leaving. It’s already five.” His mom groaned.

 

“You think it’s too late to try and force Derek to reconsider?” Derek gave a huff that matched his dad’s at that statement.

 

He had a one-of-a-kind mom.

 

“Yes, now let’s go upstairs, you can get all pretty.” A low growl came and his dad quickly fixed his mistake. “Not that you don’t look 150% pretty every day. Let’s just head to your favorite restaurant.” There was the scraping of chairs against the floor and then footsteps as his parents headed out of the room, leaving Derek alone on the porch with the thought of his mom’s disapproval of his week companion/mate.

 

Derek didn’t really care about what she thought, but she was still his mom. Stiles was going to be living with them for the week and just because for the first night they had the house to themselves, to ease the new member into the house, did not mean that Stiles would be welcomed with open arms if his mother was any indication.

 

They had to find a way to get along, otherwise stress levels were going to be sky-high and Derek’s lovely romantic whatever-they-called-it week was going to be worse than he first thought.

 

He had maybe five minutes of quiet after his parents left when he heard angry footsteps come barreling down the stairs.

Abigail. Great. He forgot about her.

 

“Stilinski?! Really?! How high are you!?” and then she was in his face.

He gave her a glare she pretended wasn’t even there.

 

“Did you go crazy on your trip? Because that is the only explanation I can accept for why you chose him” and she poked him on the chest to prove her point.

 

Derek loved his family, but toleration of individual family members was divided. For some strange reason, where Laura was bossy and insane and had no inhibitions, Abigail was all poise, perfect, and miss all-about-appearance. And she had a mouth on her.

 

It was the look on her face that brought Derek to his senses. She was trying to stand her ground but was trembling and Derek realized he was towering over her and growling.

 

He still had issues with being human and manners and treating people like they’re people and not wolves. He kept forgetting he wasn’t a wolf anymore. He couldn’t just growl at people and expect them to run. Not his family anyway.

 

“Look,” he bit out slowly. “This is my decision. You have no say in it, on anything concerning who I choose, so if you have everything ready, leave.” And he walked past her went to his room.

 

He could still make out her angry mumbled complaints about his chosen companion, but he wisely ignored them. They soon vanished completely with the loud bang of the front door closing.

 

After a few minutes of calming himself, he grabbed his jacket and barreled through the rest of the house, going outside where his car waited patiently for him.

 

Well, Laura’s’ old car but now it was his. So, his car.

 

It was as sleek as he remembered; it had been years since he’d seen the Camaro or driven a car for that matter. A smidge of doubt about getting inside a tin can with wheels blossomed inside his mind before he squashed it and yanked the car’s door open.

 

The roar of the engine made him feel better, a little of his anger already slowly dissipating as he pulled out of the driveway, passing his uncle who raised an eyebrow at him and smirked.

 

Derek ignored him. His family was greatly missed during the time he spent away, but now he was trying to figure out why he missed them in the first place.

 

The black Camaro was parked across the sheriff’s house by 5:15 and it was close to 5:30 now. Derek felt his situation was ridiculous. Everything about his return was.

 

His knuckles turned white with how hard he was clutching the steering wheel.

Derek left town for a reason, a very big specific reason. He lived the life of a wolf for three years with no family, no contact to the outside world, with only him and his thoughts, alone, just as he had wanted to be.

 

He wanted to forget, and after the first year he succeeded, almost forgetting he was part-human. In a way it was great, fantastic even. Then the rangers had shown up and suddenly Derek had become aware again and he didn’t like that, didn’t like the memories that it dredged up of the glaring mistakes he had made.

 

Now he was back. He had wanted it to be quiet. He hadn’t even told his parents what day he was returning. He had wanted to just slink in, tail between his legs, head hung low.

He could sympathize with certain loudmouths when it came to werewolves and the unfair advantage of their heightened senses because he’d only been inside the county for two minutes before the pack was on him, all excited and emanating pride from every single pore of their body, and Derek really had to fight the urge to turn tail and go back to the mountains.

 

After the great parade they had for his ‘run’, or to be more accurate his freaking trail hike, and after going through the motions of his complete and total refusal, his parents, or better yet his mom who his dad would never offend, said he had to have the Offering. And when the Alpha spoke, it was law, and the Offering happened.

 

The offering of more people than he ever wanted to see wafted through: human, beta, omega, boy, girl, orange, purple, toad, they all walked in and presented themselves to him. Some were anxious, some sad, some excited, others proud, and then the loudmouth.

 

The loudmouth, the only good thing that came out of the debacle, the one thing that just might help him keep whatever piece of sanity he had left intact, maybe.

 

He really did have a loud mouth though.

 

There was a loud bang, followed by a familiar voice cursing up a storm, and then the window was yanked open and suddenly there were clothes floating towards the ground.

 

Derek raised an eyebrow but stayed where he was, observing from afar.

 

Shoes soon followed the clothes and then a big carry-on case.

 

“There! If you don’t want to fit into the case then I’m sure you’ll enjoy the outdoors,” the kid yelled at his clothes, head poking out of the window.

 

After a few minutes of Derek staring at the kid as he stared at the mess he made on the front lawn, the kid groaned.

 

“Seriously! This is unfair. You won’t fit in the case and I really don’t have any patience left to organize you. I mean, there isn’t enough time to even attempt to organize you and I am trying to appease my clothes that are laying on the front lawn, oh my god, my mind has left the building” and he banged his head on the sill over and over again.

 

He really had a mouth on him. Derek wondered if his mom did have a point, and if maybe there was a way to call it off and change his mind. There probably was someone else in the lineup that had caught his fancy.

 

Except, aside from the one person that was currently giving himself a concussion and arguing with his clothes, Derek couldn’t remember anyone else. No one else had struck a chord.

 

It had just been an endless ocean of bodies without faces.

 

The clock on his dashboard read 5:50 and he turned his car off and opened the door.

 

He was maybe halfway out when the Stilinski kid’s voice floated to him.

 

“Oh, HELL NO. You said six. It’s¬…gimmie a sec to look at my phone ‘cause it sure as hell not six, it doesn’t feel like six, and—aha! I’ve got ten minutes left. Suck it.” And Derek watched as he went back inside his bedroom and yanked his window closed.

 

Maybe he could just ask who his mom had liked. It might be easier on him.

 

Derek about to knock on the door when it was yanked open and the kid was
there, giving him a look of disdain.

 

He pushed past Derek, without even an acknowledging nod, and marched straight to his clothes, picking them up one by one and mumbling about liars and how he could not believe that this was his life.

 

Aside from annoyance and outright hate, there was no fear in him, and Derek thought, that maybe, somehow, this could actually work.

Neither of the two wanted to do what was expected of them, and neither of them looked like they were going to budge.

 

Finally, since he had gotten back, things were starting to look up a little. It was better than nothing.

 

“How’s this, since my case is evil and hates me, how about I just dump my crap in your trunk and call it packed?” and suddenly there was a blue shirt in his face and amber eyes staring straight at him.

 

“No.”

 

“Seriously?! Do you not see me having a mental breakdown here?! I still haven’t said bye to my dad and I need to bring down my stuff from the second floor, and I only have four minutes, come on have a tiny Grinch-sized heart, will you!” He was waving his shirt around, pacing, almost tripping over his own feet.

 

“No.”

The boy stopped abruptly and stared at him. His mouth opening and closing, making sounds but not words, and finally he walked past Derek, but not without shoving the shirt right into his face and muttering ‘ass’.

 

He yanked the offending garment off and looked at it; there was a round shield with a star in the middle. Captain America. So he was loud, liked comic books, and had a tendency to trip over his own feet if the resounding noise from inside the house was anything to go by.

 

There was a small chiming in the house that could have only come from a wall clock and suddenly there was a heartbeat accelerating rapidly and he knew the kid was flailing everywhere, even if Derek couldn’t see him.

 

“Dad, oh my god, Dad, it’s six, he’s here, oh god, DAD! Where are you, I need to say bye, and I don’t even have underwear—” Derek stopped listening when the kid picked up a cup and kept asking himself if he would need it.

 

There had to be something else to do until the kid figured out that he should be making his way out of the door and that they should be on their way to the Hale house.

 

Derek’s foot caught on a white shirt. He looked around, rolled his eyes and focusing his hearing back toward the house and hearing the kid ask if taking his dad would be considered strange, Derek figured that this was the least he could do, and the only thing he would so he might as well.

 

By the time the kid had made his way out, with his dad shushing him along the way, Derek had picked up all the random clothes and stuffed them into the carry-on, and threw it into the back of the trunk. The case wasn’t closed but at least the clothes wouldn’t go flailing about.

 

He was back where the kid had left him, waiting by the front door, when the two said their goodbyes, the kid clinging for dear life and his dad trying but failing to push him off. It should irritate Derek, it really should, but he said nothing and waited.

 

After a minute or so, they finally parted and the Sheriff glanced his way, hand outstretched, and Derek took it.

 

“Derek.” He nodded.

 

“Sheriff.” He wanted to say something, but talking was never his strong suit so he settled for tightening his grip a little and then letting go. It would seem that was enough as the Sheriff gave him a tight smile and turned to his son.

 

“Now Stiles, I know that this is far from ideal,” and Stiles opened his mouth to say so except his dad raised his hand and Stiles shut his mouth and waited. “In fact, the whole town knows it by now, but please, son, just this once for this week, at least try not to go out of your way and make this more difficult. I know it’s strange, and I have no idea what I should even tell you, or how to prepare you, so just be one-third of yourself and reining in the rest because, if not, you’ll be the first person to run the Hale family out from their home.” Stiles just smiled a little, his eyes shining but no tears were shed. Another hug, except this one was brief and Derek nodded to the Sheriff once more, grabbed Stiles by the shoulder and steered him towards his car.

 

By the time they got inside, Stiles was reeking of anxiety and sadness. It was suffocating.

 

Derek started the car and the rumble made him a little less aggravated and Stiles was startled enough to ease the amount of unhealthy emotions that permeated from him.

 

“So…” Stiles said. He felt bad and ignoring him would probably end up with Derek having to listen to him go on a tangent to god knows where so he answered.

 

“Yes,” Derek said.

“I don’t know. I honestly didn’t expect you to answer. But if you give me a minute, I can probably muster something up.”

 

Derek wanted to roll his eyes. A whole week with this one person and his own family. He wasn’t human enough to deal with it.

 

“It’s 6:13, so you technically lied about the whole ‘I will pick you up at six, get whatever you think you’ll need ready. If you don’t, I’ll just drag you with me, stuff or not’ thing. That’s something, right?”

 

Then restless hands reached out and suddenly the car was flooded with heavy rock, volume high enough to send his hearing into overdrive, disorienting him and giving him only a second to press hard on the pedal before the car met something very solid, very loudly.

Notes:

As always, feedback, is loved, cherished and always appreciated!

P.S. I do have a tumblr, Inky_d that I usually reserve for my writing suffs, that I haven't updated yet, but will probably be posting snippets on it as soon as RL stops b*tch slapping me allover the place.

 

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Notes:

This Chapter is Dedicated to all my readers, my kudo givers and the lovely comment inspirationists (a word I made up just for you.), I thank you all, for keeping up with this random thought bubble and I will try to keep writing and not disappoint!

Also special Thanks and Hugs to my BETA, who is as silly as I am and Im super glad to have.

____________________Chapter 5____________________

It was an incessant beeping that pulled Stiles into awareness, past his foggy brain, and into a very loud, very smelly situation.

The acrid smell of burnt rubber filled his nose and there was growling coming from somewhere close by. He couldn’t really tell. His eyesight was hazy but slowly clearing. There was smoke everywhere and blue sky and then a shadow. He blinked a few times, bringing the shadow into focus and he saw the sharp, clear image of Derek Hale.

His hair stood out in all directions and smudges of grease streaked his scowling face.

Stiles knew he was staring but couldn’t seem to get himself to look away.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” And then four fingers were shoved right in his face.

Stiles tried to decide if this was all a cosmic joke. They hadn’t even made it out of the street when they crashed into—Stiles craned his head to see what they crashed into—a pole. A now-dented telephone pole.

They crashed into an immovable pole that had been there for as long as Stiles has been alive.

He was going to take it as a sign that God was giving up on him and his horrible situation.

There was a yank on his chin and he’s forced to stare into intense eyes and even more intense eyebrows. Then he noticed the werewolf teeth.

The stuff of nightmares really. They could keep a person awake at night: too scared to close their eyes but too tired to keep them open, the whole night wasted with random bursts of five minute naps followed by jerky movements.

Derek was still expecting an answer if the fingers that were now being waved in his face were any indication.

“Four,” he heard himself mumble, still unable to look away. As much as he found his situation unsatisfactory, Derek was HOT. And yeah, that thought was in all caps. In fact, Derek was HOTT, two T’s for extra hotness. Stiles would willingly go to his grave before his time before he’d ever admit to those thoughts.

“Fine.” The sadist with the manners of an animal let go of Stiles’ head. Gravity took over and Stiles was now clearly aware that he’s going to have a golf ball-sized bump on the back of his head to accompany all the pain he’s now registering. His chest area hurt the most, where the seatbelt had kept him restrained.

His fingers felt tingly when he wiggled them, but he could at least feel them so that eased his mind. Getting up on his elbows proved to be a futile attempt considering the growl directed his way when he tried. “Seriously, dude, I’m pretty much dying here. I think I deserve to choose if I go sitting or lying down like piece of plank wood.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed deeper and then his hazel eyes started glowing blue and Stiles shimmies down to the ground.

“Fine, you win this round, but only because I think I’m supposed to lie down and wait like a good patient after you nearly killed me in a car crash. By driving into a pole. A pole that, by the way, has been there longer than I’ve been alive.” And now Stiles was swallowing and making faces because there there’s a metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he bit his tongue sometime when the impact happened, especially since he’s pretty sure he was in the process of making Derek uncomfortable with one of his spiels at the time.

After a while, he noticed the lack of people surrounding them and wondered exactly how long he’d been unconscious.

“Dude, where is everybody? Like ambulances and shit? I think I have internal bleeding. I can taste it.” Annoyance was his method of getting information; it got you a long way. He figured that out at the ripe age of four when the magical question of ‘Why?’ was his favorite thing to say.

If anything, Stiles was pretty sure that every time he says ‘Why?’, his dad still winces. In his defense, he was curious and it’s not like the neighbors shut their damn windows when they were naked-wrestling.

He waited before he became pretty sure he wasn’t going to get an answer and rolled his eyes. Lying still had never been his forte. Keeping quiet wasn’t either, but that was neither here nor there.

“Seriously? You did call someone right? I mean, everyone is probably too scared to come out and say anything and why are you staring at me like that?” Derek had stopped whatever he was doing with his car and was looking at him, blankly mind you, but Stiles was at least 87% sure there was a slight arch at the tip of Derek’s left eyebrow and that, if squinted at in the right angle, could be an incredulous look.

“Oh my god. What’s wrong with me? Am I bleeding out, like, seriously? I am, aren’t I? I can’t feel my legs. I can move them but I can’t feel me moving them.” Stiles wiggled his feet left and right to demonstrate. “You know, when I said dying earlier, I was joking. I’m gonna be ok, right?”

Derek just shook his head and turned back to the car to look at something under its hood. What was his problem?

“Dude, if we’re going to be cohabitating—” and there was a loud clang, Derek’s head meeting the hood of the car when he pulled it out to stare at him, “—yeah, you heard me. Cohabitating. It’s what I’m calling it in order to cope with the reality of the situation. I’m also okay with ‘weeklong booty call’.”

Derek actually pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look, you obviously like to talk.”

Stiles nodded in agreement.

“Talk enough for three people.”

Again, Stiles nodded.

“I don’t like to talk.”

Stiles shifted his eyes from Derek then to the car and then back again but nodded to show he was still listening when Derek didn’t continue.

“You can talk. Talk to your imaginary friends, your actual friends, I don’t care. But don’t talk to me and don’t expect me to answer or listen to you.”

Stiles looked at him for a long time. He blinked and then looked again. Then blinked and when Derek seemed to lose whatever patience he had, Stiles opened his mouth.

“That’s not going to happen. The rules clearly state that I can only talk to you or your immediate family, and even then you have to be present. So, like it or not, you have the honor of being my brand new diary. Actually, my journal. That sounds manlier.”

This time, Derek rubbed his face in frustration. “You remember that useless rule but not the one where no one is allowed within reach of either of us before we consummate.”

Stiles opened his mouth to retort but unfortunately, he had been bested, and even though he knew this, there was no way he was actually going to acknowledge that out loud. “Does that include parents?”

Derek actually turned his back on him. Ass.

“Fine, you know what? I am going to stand up. You know why? Because you are not the boss of me, and even though I know that sounded like something a preteen girl would say, I will stand by it,” and he pushed against the ground and then he’s vertical, and blood rushed from his head too fast and he’s pretty sure the earth wasn’t supposed to be sideways and now the ground’s started getting closer to his face again.

The hand on his bicep was strong, keeping him from reacquainting himself with the ground. His vision started to clear and the loud huff at the back of his neck was not unwelcome but sure as hell was not appreciated.

Still, he also had manners, unlike the caveman who just let go of him and went back to tinkering under his car’s hood.

“Right…Thanks.” He’s still a bit unsteady on his feet but he managed to get from point A, being where he was, to point B, being where Derek was.

“I know little to nothing of what’s going on inside there, but I’m pretty sure you’re making it worse.” Derek stilled before coming up to stare at him.

“What? I’m just saying, from an outsider’s point of view here,” and he took a step back when Derek’s face began to darken.

“You know what? How about we take my jeep? You can have your car towed. This way, no one else gets near me and I get to drive.” He made a point of staring pointedly at the Camaro as the reason for him being the one to drive.

It was smoking and had a big dent. Stiles was pretty sure he had a good point.

Derek took a deep breath and slammed the crumpled hood down hard. He started walking towards Stiles’ house. After a whole minute, Stiles noticed that the jerk was actually going to keep going and not invite him. For another minute, he debated if he should follow Derek or just keep the wolf hanging for being an inconsiderate ass.

Derek stopped then looked back, eyebrows angry, and that got Stiles moving. He was aware, even with such a short time of knowing the creep, that that was as close to asking him to move it in a nice way that he’ll ever get.

A depressing thought, but not an altogether bad one; after all, if Derek doesn’t ask with words, then Stiles sure as hell won’t do anything he asks.

It’s his foolproof plan of keeping his dignity intact for when Derek wanted to get a little on the freaky side. He knew Scott and he knew about their wolfy kinks, and he sure as hell was not going to have any of that, thank you.

By the time he reached Derek, he’s psyched himself out with all the crap that could possibly happen to him that he’d seen on the Discovery Channel special about wolves, so when Derek let out a small huff and moved a step closer, Stiles moved his hands to his ass and kept them there.

Derek just rolled his eyes and tilted his head, inspecting him. Then he put a hand on Stiles’ forehead and held it there. The small dull throbbing that was plaguing him started to ebb away and, like the bright image of a light bulb turning on, Stiles realized what was going on.

Derek was doing that thing Scott did whenever Stiles was too hurt: taking the pain away. In theory, it was sweet, nice, and so very, very welcome. When it was Scott. When Derek did it, Stiles felt different. A lot different.

He was in a daze for a few seconds and then Derek was gone. Blinking furiously, Stiles shook his head. Seriously, dude was an ASS.

Feeling a bit better than before, he caught up with his soon-to-be-literal ass owner, who was already on his driveway, looking expectantly at him.

His dad was by the windows, looking at him. Of course. No touching until Derek got his first dibs. Stiles mouthed ‘I’m okay’ and gave a thumbs up.

His dad just shook his head and nodded at him.

It wasn’t the first time Stiles has thought that his dad was the greatest parent in the world, no flaws except for being the sheriff and making sure Stiles had zero-to-none secrets.

There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned around to be greeted with Derek’s annoyed face, which he was starting to become very familiar with, and his outstretched hand.

“Wha?”

“Keys.”

“What? No. I said I’d drive. I even made a point of pointing out your fantastic driving skills!” If he sounded whiny, it’s because he had just nearly died. He had a valid excuse.

“My sight is better and you might not have a migraine at the moment, but you’re not driving.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest because, really, the heightened-senses-wolf thing crashed them into a pole. Was he the only one who saw the irony in this?

Derek spoke before he could. “The accident was your fault. You turned the radio on with the volume at max. It threw me off balance.” Before Stiles realized what was happening, he was handing his keys to Derek the ASS who proceeded to push him towards the passenger side of his baby and then slammed the door shut.

Stiles was completely sure the paint was chipped from the impact.

“Dude, watch it, just because you totaled your car, doesn’t mean you get to take your frustration out on mine. She is a delicate lady, bruises like a peach.” Derek gave him another incredulous look before starting the ignition.

“Do not touch anything,” was the only warning Stiles got after his hand was smacked away from the radio.

They peeled out of the driveway and with the way Derek was drove, they were more than likely to make it to the Hale manor in record time. Stiles was holding the door, watching the scenery pass by in wonderful blurry goodness when he noticed they were veering away from the manor.

“I know you’ve been away from home for a while, but you missed your turn.”

“We’re going to the hospital first.”

This time Stiles was the one wearing the incredulous look.

“Wha—? Why? I am obviously fine. I can see color, my limbs still work, and I am breathing, see?”

Derek ignored him, as always, and just kept driving to the hospital. It wasn’t long before they’re parked and Derek’s yanking him out of the car and dragging him to the emergency room.

Scott’s mom was there and she arches an eyebrow when she sees them. Well, mostly him but he’s sure she’s taking in Derek’s hotness. She might be older and a mom but Stiles know she’s still kicking and Derek, despite his awful everything, was still something to look at.

“He is not to be touched, we got into an accident, I want to see if he has a concussion.”

She looked at both of them, slowly nodded, and started to walk.

They followed her to a whole different part of the hospital that Stiles doesn’t recognize and promptly freaked out.

“What is this place?” He shifted from place to place, trying to understand where he was, when Derek appeared out of nowhere and manhandled him into an MRI machine.

“It’s a wing, designed for werewolves,” was his answer before he’s pushed down to lie on his back. The hospital had a werewolf wing?

“Seriously? Why? You guys have, like, healing powers of injustice,” he heard himself say just as the machine turned on and he’s being engulfed in a white bright light.

“Because our healing doesn’t always work. Now lie still.”

Stiles wanted to ask when exactly does their healing not work, because from what he’s seen of Jackson and Scott and all the other werewolves on the team, it worked, it always worked, which wasn’t really fair.

He’s still thinking about the unfair advantages that certain teammates of his have when he’s slowly moved outside of the machine and into the room made for werewolves. He still can’t get over that.

Derek’s there and looking at him, even more annoyed than before.

“What, am I ok? Am I going to die before you defile me? Is that why your face looks like you ate a sour lemon?”

“You’re fine. Apparently, your stupidity is all you.” And Derek walked away, expecting Stiles to follow him, who was busy having a small mental breakdown that Derek had just used sarcasm without grunting and using actual words. And it was a good one.

It was mind blowing. He might have to reevaluate everything he’s ever known. Stiles was at a loss for words, not knowing how to proceed, when an order was barked at him.

“Stop zoning out and let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Stiles would beg to differ; there was no better use of time than trying to figure out where Derek had gotten that bit of sarcasm from. Was he born with it? Did he develop it? Was it a secret? These were important questions that Stiles thought were more important than whatever the hell Derek thought they ought to be doing.

The sudden yank on his shoulder got him moving. He was still staring at Derek and trying to find out where that one ounce of personality that wasn’t all bite-and-anger came from.

He was staring so hard at Derek and wondering if he learnt sarcasm on his wolf run that he hadn’t even registered they entered the car, or that they’d been moving until Derek was suddenly not in his view anymore and the door was yanked open.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that mind of yours, but if you keep doing that in the future, it will probably save your life.”

“Wha—?”

“Seriously, keep it up. If whatever you’re thinking about keeps you quiet and makes you more bearable to be around, and in my house that’s something you’ll want, then keep it up.”

And Stiles realized he hadn’t talked once on the entire trip and that he’s standing at right in front of the Hale manor, which loomed over him and spelt doom and probable pain in big neon red capital letters. For Stiles anyway.

Notes:

Comments and Kudos are loved and cherished~