Stiles is already drenched. Like, head to toe –wetter than a dog- drenched. They’d barely been there all of two minuets before the pasty teen was ripping off his shirt and displaying skin so white he shines like Edward Cullen, crashing into the ocean with uncoordinated gallops that inevitably end up sending him plummeting face-first into the clear blue water. Both Scott and Derek freeze as they watch Stiles face-plant into the water with a loud slap. They drop the bags hastily in the sand, ready to jump to the rescue, but stop when they see his matted, brown hair break through the water. They watch Stiles flail loudly, in which he swallows more salt water than air, before he surfaces triumphantly with two thumbs up. A red circle already appearing from where he fell into the waves.
Derek and Scott share a worried look. It’s gonna be a long day.
Once Derek’s sure Stiles is fine and wont hurt himself further, he picks up the bags he dropped earlier, making his way back up shore though the burning hot sand to where the ladies have set up camp for the day.
Dumping the bags heavily in the sand he arches a dark brow at Lydia, who’s already comfortably sprawled out in her designer beach lounge beside Allison. She lowers her oversized sunglasses when she sees him shaking his head at her, giving him nothing more than a slightly disapproving look. “You took your time.” He grunts in response, before retrieving his beach towel form the bag, shaking it out and setting it down on the sand beside his pack mates
Once the girls have gone back to reading their magazines, pointing out their favorite dresses and hairstyles, he takes the chance to just enjoy the beach. He lays on his back, arms crossed moodily over his chest as he watches fluffy white clouds pass soundlessly by, while Scott tries (and fails) to apply an even coat of sunscreen beside him.
Eventually, once the others are all lathered up, Scott announces its time to go join Stiles in the water. Derek watches from his place among the towels as Scott easily swoops a squirming Allison into his arms, giggling wildly as Lydia chases them down to the shoreline, red hair flaming behind her. Derek moves to a stand, sunscreen glistening as he slowly trails the others.
The water is cool and crisp- a perfect contrast to the heat rolling in with the breeze. He’s looking down, observing how the water foams and fizzles slightly as it washes over his toes time and time again when Stiles calls out to him.
“Hey Derek! What’re you doing just standing here?” The wolf lifts his head just in time to see Allison tackle Scott into the water with a well-placed pounce, while Stiles stands oblivious to the couple’s antics a mere meter away, Calling excitedly to him. “Hurry up and get in before I make you.” Derek arches an eyebrow at that, his deep-rooted stubbornness flexing its muscles in a show nobody can see and marches into the ocean, water flaring up being him as he clears a path towards the group.
They spend the next few hours playing in the water. Stiles insist on having water fights (aka: Stiles splashing an unsuspecting Derek), while Allison and Scott make out a lot, both under and above the water. Lydia, always the sophisticated one, absolutely refuses to get her hair wet, so she spends the day going back and forth between the beach lounge and wading waist-high through the water.
Eventually though, Stiles gets sick of Scott and Allison’s constant locking of lips (seriously though, how can they even breathe?) So, in one particular bout of rage in which Scott was too busy to catch the beach ball, he flings out an arm across the water, only just skimming the surface, sending a monumental wave towards the couple.
The hit lands. There are no survivors.
The two break apart, startled, sending him matching dagger-like glares. Recognizing his impending doom, Stiles stumbles backwards, away from the couple quickly advancing towards him. He tumbles through the water, making a bee-line for Derek. He hides behind the older werewolf, peeking over his shoulder.
Somehow, Scott and Allison took that as their cue and before Derek knew it, Allison was gracefully perched atop Scott’s shoulders, his arms gripping her thighs tightly. Both posed to fight. Stiles looks worriedly at Derek, before awkwardly shrugging, climbing up Derek’s broad frame. Derek, having absolutely no idea what the hell is going on, pinwheels back before righting himself, only just saving himself and a flailing Stiles from tumbling messily into the water.
It’s Stiles and Derek vs. Allison and Scott. And, Despite the fact that Stiles has put on some lean muscle (that hasn’t gone unnoticed by Derek) and Derek’s eyes are glowing an eerie blue, Allison an Scott somehow manage to tip Stiles off Derek’s shoulders, sending them both tumbling into the water.
Stiles pouts, glaring at Allison. “That wasn’t fair! You know martial arts!” She, the ever-so-adult one pokes out her tongue and continues to celebrate with Scott. You guessed it. More making out.
Derek shakes his head as he watches Stiles try to state his case to the two teens, who are clearly too lip-locked to listen, He turns away from a spluttering Stiles, making his way back up the beach, savoring the hot sand sifting through his toes.
Halfway back, a cold hand clasps his shoulder. “Where are you going?”
Sighing, he points to where Lydia’s currently sprawled on the lounge, muttering in her sleep. “I’m just gong to dry off for a bit.” Stiles’ nods, smiling happily. “Yeah, I thought it was about time to get out.” He holds up his crinkly hands for Derek to see. “I’m starting to get all wrinkly.”
The two make their way slowly up the beach, plonking wet bodies down on dry towels. Stiles sighs loudly as he takes his time getting comfortable, turning back and forth, while Derek lays still on his back, watching Stiles with an amused smile on his face. Eventually, some 5 minutes later Stiles finds a comfy enough spot and the two join Lydia in the land of sleep.
Sand flies up high into the sky, showering the three sleeping teens. Derek and Stiles splutter awake in a wild mess of limbs (mostly Stiles’), twisting this way and that in an attempt to find the culprit. Derek locates them soon enough. A young man and what seems to be his girlfriend are sheepishly making their way over to them.
“I’m sorry about that. Did we wake you?” The boy looks sorry, but Derek knows he isn’t. There’s just something about his posture. Something that sets Derek slightly on edge.
Sadly, Stiles isn’t on the same page.
He smiles at the couple, reaching past Derek to pick up a shabby soccer ball. “It’s ok. Trust me, It’s not a big deal.” He points to Scott and Allison as they make their way up the beach. “Those two would’ve woken us up anyway… They’re sore losers” He smiles cheekily while Scott half-heartedly argues his case from half-way down the beach.
The strangers laugh, catching the ball easily when Stiles throws it to them. They look at each other for a moment, before turning back to Scott. “You guys want to join us for a game or two?” The pack exchanges a questioning look, silently asking if anyone (besides Derek) has any objections.
Scott shrugs. “A game or two couldn’t hurt.”
They were there for over three hours. Derek knows. He counted every.single.minute.
The strangers, whose names Derek refuses to believe, are not alone. They’re also not completely human, either.
Nathan and Jemma, the couple who originally invited them to come join their little game of soccer are, in fact, not at all a couple, but rather weirdly close siblings. Who also happen to be bitten wolves, turned at the age of 8 and 12. They’re here with their other (mostly non-human) friends celebrating some achievement of Nathan’s Derek doesn’t really care about. The weird doey-eyed one is Tate, and the typical beach girl is Chloe, with blue eyes and sun-bleached blond hair. And lastly, is Nes, the other wolf. (and yes, before you ask, there does seem to be a weirder name than Stiles) He’s rather attractive once you get past the ego the size of a house. He’s got thick dark hair that sweeps up, away from his widow’s peak and hungry eyes that’re fixed on a certain member of the McCall pack. He makes his way over to Stiles fearlessly, ignoring Stiles’ surprised splutter.
Derek’s decided. He hates Nes the most. Even more than the weirdly close siblings.
He wants to tell himself it’s because he’s another wolf, another predator that could potentially harm his pack. But deep down, he knows it’s because this little prick is letting Stiles talk, making it seem like he’s interested in what the teen has to say, but he’s not listening to any of it. Not really. He’s just staring at the sharp cupid’s bow of pink lips while Stiles tries his best to explain why batman would always win against superman.
Just looking at the two of them together makes Derek angry beyond belief. He’s not even listening to Stiles. Stiles deserves more than that. He deserves to be-
Nope. So not getting into that.
Besides Nes, the group seems friendly enough. Before long, Lydia’s nestled nicely between Tate and Jemma, sharing snippets of her favorite shopping purchases at the nearby malls while Tate and Jemma nod enthusiastically.
Besides Derek, Allison seems to be the most uncomfortable, but that’s simply because of her position. She’s half laying, half sitting in Scott’s lap while Nathan and Scott talk about dirt bikes.
Not long after the pack has sat down, they’re being invited along to a bonfire at sunset. They agree readily.
When it’s finally time to go get their stuff, they slowly make their way back, throwing happy goodbye’s over their shoulders.
They work together, picking up and dusting off their beach towels and umbrellas, stuffing them back onto Lydia’s oversized beach bag, while Lydia tucks her folded-up lounge under her arm. When Derek goes to lift their esky, he’s startled to a stop by a familiar scent. Growling low in his throat, he manages to place it. Wolfsbane. It’s diluted and mixed with other foreign herbs, but that doesn’t mean it wont have any lesser effect on the wolves. But, before he can say anything to the rest of the pack, Lydia and Allison are huffing over his shoulder. They seem annoyed at him for doing… something.
Lyida huffs, lifting the lid carefully, pointing to a small packet of fine dust, carefully tucked between a Dr. Pepper and a sprite. “That was supposed to be a surprise.” He arches a thick eyebrow, staring. Isn’t Lydia supposed to be a genius or something?
“you know wolfsbane can kill wolves, right?”
She looks at him like she can’t believe he just said that. “That’s why this is a special kind of wolfsbane. Duh” she reaches into the esky, wiggling the baggie in front of his nose, which causes him to sneeze. She has the audacity to laugh. “It’s a mix of herbs specially designed to allow wolves, like yourself, to feel the full effects of alcohol.”
“Are you serious? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Lydia rolls her eyes, marching towards Stiles and Scott, leaving a confused Allison by his side.
Allison must catch the bewildered look on his face. She gently bumps her shoulder to his. “It’s ok. I didn’t know she had any either.”
They make their way back up the beach slowly. Stiles, Scott and Lydia lead the way with happy giggles and half-hearted accusations about god knows what, while Allison and Derek follow closely behind, happy in the comfortable silence that’s settled between them.
When they finally arrive the other group has set up a small bonfire, dug into the ground. They also have tons of alcohol. Lydia skips over and sits down, placing herself between Chloe and Jemma, who hoot and holler when they see the bag clasped in her hand.
Two games of beach soccer and many, many drinks later, both groups decide to go swimming one more time before they go their separate ways for the rest of the summer.
Stiles seems to love the idea. Derek loathes it.
As it turns out, Stiles has downed one too many and is completely unable to walk down to the shore by himself, so Derek ends up slinging one of Stiles’ arms over his shoulders and half dragging, half carrying him through the sand while the others stumble ahead. He mumbles and slurs as they blunder through the sand, and Derek has to bat Stiles’ hands away from his face while he mutters something about kindness being stored in thick eyebrows and if he could just touch them maybe unicorns really are real.
Don’t worry, It’s not just you, Derek has no clue either.
Shortly after entering the water a very drunk Lydia calls them over, apple cider sloshing everywhere as she talks to the group. “There you are!” She either doesn’t notice Derek’s cocked eyebrow, or chooses to ignore it. “You two took your time!” She laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world and soon Allison joins her, snorting ever so slightly. Allison stumbles, falling into Scott, knocking his drink from his hand. Stiles sighs loudly, clearly done with the girl’s shenanigans, leaning close to Derek. “What’e th doin?” Derek shakes his head fondly, adjusting Stiles gently on his shoulder so he’s more comfortable. “I don’t think they know.” Stiles huffs slightly, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.
Scott is left with an armful of a squirming Allison, who still hasn’t stopped laughing, and Lydia half hanging off him, holding on for dear life. He looks helplessly at Derek, who sighs. Somehow, he knew this would happen. A trip to the beach would’ve been fine on it’s own, but as soon as Alcohol was brought into the equation, he knew he’d regret it (seriously, where did they even get the stuff?). Slowly, he gently removes Stiles from his side, making sure Jemma has a good hold on him before peeling Lydia away from Scott. Derek lets Scott lead the way up the beach, looking back to make sure Stiles is still alive. (he is)
As it turns out, Lydia doesn’t enjoy being carried. She squirms, even though Derek’s pretty sure she’s way too close to being unconscious to even do that. Finally happy with her position, she bops him on he nose with a perfectly manicured finger. “You, Mr-gruuumps. Aren’t doing it right.”
“Aren’t doing what right?” He starts making his way up the beach a little quicker. She points loosely behind him, laughing into the cool night air. “That one.” When he looks back, she begins tapping him lightly on the cheek. “It was suppsd to happen..tonight!” Derek just jostles her gently, smiling when she makes an ‘oomph!’ sound.
“You’re not making any sense Lydia.” She frowns as she sets her down in the sand next to Allison. Sighing loudly, she looks to Allison and shakes her head, falling back in the sand with a thud. Scott huffs out a breath of laughter, taking the free spot next to Allison. “I’ll take care of them. You go have fun with Stiles. We’ve still got a few hours ‘till we have to leave.” He nods and turns back, ready to join the others.
When he gets there, he really wishes he hadn’t left Stiles alone. With these people. Wolves. Whatever.
Stiles is with Nes, some distance away from the rest of their pack. Derek can barely see them, they’re so far out. He marches through the water towards his pack mate, ignoring the confused glances the others toss him. One of them (it’s either Tate or Nathan) tries to stop him with a firm hand on his bicep. “dude let them have some priva-“ but is quickly silenced by Derek’s flashing eyes. The teen recoils, stepping back a few paces. “dude. We had, like, no idea.”
Nes doesn’t hear him coming. Doesn’t hear his own pack tailing Derek cautiously, which isn’t surprising, really, considering how distracted he is with Stiles’ lips. Stiles, who’s too drunk to know who’s who and where the fuck he is.
As he draws closer he begins to see them clearly. Can see Stiles’ head lolling helplessly from side to side as Nes turns him this way and that, groping at whatever he can get his grimy hands on.
The sight makes Derek feel sick. He growls, slipping easily into his beta-shift, Nes’ pack getting ready to step between the two if need be.
Stiles somehow, through his drunken stupor, spots Derek before he gets there. He snorts, eyes closing involuntarily. He tries to remove himself from Nes’ tight grip and make his way over to Derek, but quickly resigns once it proves to be too much effort.
Derek stops in front of the two, pinning Nes with a glare. “Stiles. Its time to go.” Stiles nods, but Nes isn’t having any of it.
“If Stiles wants to stay. He can.” He turns to Stiles, whispering softly in his ear. Stiles laughs, the small puffs of air tickling his ear. He shakes his head, trying to get out of the wolf’s grip. Derek steps forward, ready to rip Nes limb from limb. Nes throws Derek a dirty look, muttering to Stiles and shaking him lightly, telling him to stay.
If it weren’t for the other pack standing literally a meter away, Nes wouldn’t have a heartbeat.
Derek’s had more than enough.
“I’ll give you to the count of three to let go of my mate.” Both Stiles’ and Nes’ eyes widen comically. Derek raises a hand holding up three fingers.
He doesn’t even get to 1.
As soon as Derek’s uttered the sacred word, Stiles is thrown heavily into his arms. Nes backs up, holding his hands in front of him as if he’s just done something horrible and been caught in the act. “I swear, I didn’t know.” Derek huffs angrily. He does nothing more than glare and turn on his heel, taking a confused Stiles with him.
When they’re out of hearing range, Stiles stops. He gets in close to Derek, who’s still in his beta-shift. He looks awkwardly from side to side, as if he’s checking to see if anyone’s listening to them. “Th-that was a pretty good lie, if I do say so my’slf.” He laughs, petting Derek’s chest softly.
Now is better than never, he thinks. “I didn’t lie, Stiles.”
“uh-yeah you did”. Stiles cocks an eyebrow in a way that’s eerily familiar, and Derek can’t help but sigh. He hadn’t exactly planned to tell Stiles.. well, anytime soon. Its just that when he saw how Nes was treating Stiles -his stiles- and he just couldn’t help himself.
He doesn’t expect Stiles to understand. Humans don’t mate. They float from one another, never establishing any real ties. Maybe it’s best to get it all out now, Derek thinks. Then Stiles can really move on.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you for some time now… I-I just…” He sighs, wincing slightly when he takes in Stiles’ open expression. “I just wanted you to have some time for yourself. To be with whoever you choose to be with. I know you don’t like me that way, but that’s ok.” He sighs “I’ll get over it.” It’s a lie, a blatant one that that, but he’s hoping Stiles is too disorientated to tell the truth from the lies.
He would be wrong.
He stiffens as Stiles leans forward, muffling his laughter in the nape of Derek’s neck. He knew it was fairly outlandish to expect Stiles to understand his predicament, but he never thought he’d outright laugh at him.
But before he can move out of Stiles’ grip, the teen is carefully nosing his way up his neck, nuzzling warm skin the entire time, before resting his nose at Derek’s temple. “that ‘s so silly, Der.” His breath ghosts across Derek’s skin, sending and odd chill down his spine. Stiles tilts his head to the side, a goofy smile plastered on his face. “How could I like anyone but you?”
Derek stares, stunned into silence. He shakes his head, confused.
Stiles laughs at Derek’s reaction, falling forward slightly. Derek rights him quickly, keeping a strong hand on his human’s shoulder. Covering Derek’s hand with his own, he leans forward until their lips are ghosting lightly over each other.
Derek’s eyes widen as he pulls back suddenly, ignoring Stiles’ disappointed whimper. He chances a look into deep whiskey eyes. “I’m sorry Stiles, but I’m not going to make our first kiss one you won’t even remember.” Stiles huffs moodily, thunking his forehead against Derek’s. He holds it there, and the two stare at each other for what feels like hours, cool water lapping lazily at their shins, the perfect soundtrack.
Eventually, Stiles’ eyes spend more time closed than open, so Derek takes that as his cue to send everyone home. Together he and Scott load Allison, Lydia and Stiles into the car. It’s a long and quiet journey, so Derek makes sure Stiles is in a comfortable enough position.
Several hours later, when Derek’s still half-asleep he feels long, bony fingers find his, threading themselves together like they’ve just found their other perfect half. The wolf smiles to himself before drifting back to sleep. This, even just the hand holding, is more than he even thought he deserved. Sure, they’re gonna have to talk about this, in depth, once Stiles’ sobered up, but for now. The two sleep happily in the back of a beaten-up car, with a makeshift pack.
I know. It's a little different, and not at all what I usually write, but it was probably the most fun I've had writing in a long, long while. I'm pretty happy with now it worked out, even if there are a few elements I'm still not too sure about. Anyways, pandatails (the artist) and I are currently talking about another colab that's currently in the works, so If you enjoy either mine, or pandatails' stuff, I consider you keep a close eye on the both of us through our Tumblrs (just click on the names)!
If you have a wicked prompt Idea, make sure to let me know. Or if you need to chat about something, be it a bad day or the world won't stop raining on your parade, make sure to drop a message in my chat. I won't bite.
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