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Especially Derek, who still scares me

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Stiles’ ears perked up on hearing a sudden rustling of dry leaves from somewhere above.

“Hey, anyone out there?” He quickly  shot up from his lying position from where he’d been sprawled flat on the dirty, comfy bed of the forest floor, stumbling over his own feet. “I fell in the hole,” he mumbled, weak and disappointed, as the noises stopped. He wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead with a quick drag of his shirt sleeve, feeling the heat striking him hard.

Stiles had turned sixteen a month before and his body was all set to welcome the restructuring of his entire biology, the incarnation of his true genes which were buried deep inside in the core of his bones, flesh and blood. He’d already started feeling the change as his appetite suddenly became ten times larger than usual, which was saying something because Stiles loved food. His sleep became more conscious as his senses developed. At odd hours of a day he felt a quick rise in his body temperature, like a fever, an internal furnace.

To burn off the overwhelming energy he’d been running around the forest after school for a few days now. He knew he was going to transform pretty soon into a were-something. He just wished that day could be today.

He stretched his neck, standing on the tips of his toes, hoping to get a better view of the world outside. He’d started muttering to himself when no one had replied, enjoying the way his voice reverberated through the quiet surroundings.

“If you can still hear me, any help would be truly appreci- baah!” he screeched, toppling over a tree root near his feet, landing on his ass.

A big furry black head had suddenly peeked over into the hole.

“Jesus Christ! You just gave me a heart attack,” he huffed out, clutching his thumping heart. He watched as the stranger’s head tilted a little, staring back at Stiles with its pale, weird green eyes, cocking one thick, judgemental eyebrow.

“Hey buddy, have ya came to my rescue,” Stiles cooed at the huge - giant dog, sounding pathetically hopeful. He wrinkled his nose trying to figure out its earthy, musky, very non-doglike scent. “Go fetch your owner and get me out of here. Go Tommy go.”

And, Tommy growled, baring his fangs. Seemed like Tommy didn't like his new name much. The next moment, he was gone.

Stiles could still hear the dog’s rhythmic panting though. Tommy was probably searching for some nice spot to pee, busy marking his territory. “Stupid dog,” he thumped his irritated hand on the ground.

Gah...Snake!” he let out a surprised yelp, again, as something came slithering down into the hole a few minutes later.

“It's a rope, you idiot.” That was certainly a human’s voice.

Immediately, he scrambled to his feet, grabbing the perfect rope of twisted vines tight in his fists, wondering about his rescuing angel who was also wandering in the forest at this hour.

“Oh...” he breathed when met with the sight of a cute butt as the other boy - the owner of the said voice - pulled his black boxers up. Stiles came to his senses when the waistband slapped against the boy’s hips. “ are the dog. I uh... thanks,” he muttered, struggling hard to erase the mental image of that perfect ass, which was kind of etched in his brain for forever.

“Wolf!” the boy snarled, buttoning his jeans, glaring at Stiles as if he was about to kill him.

“Whoa, I’m sorry, okay?” Stiles scrambled back a few steps, raising his hands in complete surrender. Of course, it was bad manners to crack dog jokes about wolves. And, he’d heard how some werewolves took such comments rather seriously. He knew Scott took such comments seriously. “Please don't kill me. I was bit too busy dying down there to realise your true form.”

“It's just a small hole,” the do- wolf commented, fixing his tee shirt over his sculpted abs.

“Wh- that's a pretty nasty hole down there,” Stiles retorted, actually feeling insulted by the casual remark. “I’m not transformed yet. So, being a pretty breakable human, I might have fallen on my head and died from excessive blood loss. may have rained, drowning me in just a small hole.” he finger quoted his last few words for emphasis. “Or -”

“ may die right here when I rip your throat with my teeth if you don’t stop talking right now,” the boy hissed, clenching his jaw.

Stiles shut his open mouth with an audible click. He stared at the wolf, calculating if he would actually act as per his threats.

Derek, what the hell are you still doing there?

Stiles jumped at the a sudden noise. He whipped his neck around and found a beautiful leather clad brunette coming stomping towards them.

Wait - What? Derek? The name sounded distinctly familiar.

As in - Derek Hale?

The entire Beacon town was whispering about the return of a true blood. The Hales, who roamed around in leather. It was summer for God’s sake!

The legend said that all were-creatures had apparently evolved from their pure genes, many centuries ago. Many of them were born wolves while the others - like Stiles - were still unaware what they were, counting every single day until they came off age.

The fucking Hales, the successors of the crazed ruler, who’d gone feral and destroyed half the country many years back with a wicked swipe of his left hand.

The Hales were taboo. It was in their genes. Being born with it, their animal always lurked at the surface, ready to pounce. In this supernatural world, the Hale name had conveniently replaced the bogeyman, used to scare misbehaving kids and Stiles was definitely one such kid.

Stiles’ vulnerable heart started pounding crazily at a sudden reminder of his childhood terror stories. It must have been loud, because Derek creased his eyebrows, watching Stiles with curious eyes. A moment later, his lips tugged into a smug knowing smirk. Stiles knew he’d realized that Stiles had realized what Derek was.

“Go! Leave. Now!” Derek barked, his crystal blue eyes glowing for extra effect.

The next moment Stiles was running for his life.

“Why did you scare that poor thing?” Stiles heard from a distance. “Mom said, we're here to clean up our image, remember?”

“Shut up, Laura.” - was the last thing Stiles remembered from his first encounter with the Hales.

The cute perfect ass had been long forgotten already.




Of course, Derek Hale joined Beacon High.

He strolled around the school as if it was his private property. No one dared to initiate conversation with him, well, except Greenberg.

When Derek flashed his blinding toothy smile, Greenberg literally pissed in his pants.

Derek even tried to join the basketball team. Stiles knew he was trying to clean up the image. But the job wasn't easy, not when you had a not-so-promising background and certainly not when you burst the ball with your bare hands on the first pass.

After that, Derek always seemed to be busy scaring the shit out of Stiles.

One time Derek lurked near the lacrosse stands like some scarecrow, glaring at Stiles with his intense (silly) eyes and Stiles couldn’t concentrate on the game, no matter what. That day, Stiles lingered near the boundary lines farthest from the stands, away from Derek, not even trying to get the ball.

He still received two passes though. He somehow managed to send one into his own goal. The next one went right for the coach’s nose, breaking it with a crack.

He’d had to warm the bench for three days straight after that.

Another time, in the canteen, one moment Stiles was walking towards his lunch table, efficiently balancing his full tray of Chinese noodles and all those tangy-spicy sauces and the next moment -

“Watch your step.” Boo! There came Derek fucking Hale with his weird veggie-salad shit, right in front of Stiles like the creepy ghost he was, making him flail and sending the contents of his tray all over his own face.

Stiles was so embarrassed that he couldn’t even remember who had helped him out of his noodle-y mess. He might have swiped a few noodles from his head and stuffed them into his hungry mouth, munching them with a series of muffled angry words.

Only the other day Derek had reenacted the entire history of his crazy ancestors in one of their common Were-creature Drama classes, maybe to spread awareness or something like that. He might have used tomato ketchup for emphasis, rubbing it all over his chiseled jaw, spitting (words) right at Stiles’ face.

For those terrifying fifteen minutes Stiles could only wonder if that was just ketchup and nothing more, only to suffer later with traumatizing nightmares of a bloody-faced Derek Hale.

Initially, Stiles thought their encounters were mere coincidence, but the shameless smirk on Derek's face told an altogether different story.

The next day Stiles jumped straight into the swimming pool, fully clothed, just to avoid crossing Derek's path.

“What were you thinking? Are you alright?” Scott asked, lines of worry creasing his forehead.

“Yeah...” Stiles sighed, wrapping a towel around his freezing wet body. “'s just him,” he mumbled, throwing wary glances at Derek. Even from this distance Stiles could make out the definite curves of his bushy eyebrows.

“I think he’s good,” Lydia commented, thoughtfully observing Derek.

Stiles almost cracked his neck in his haste to stare at her with wide, shocked eyes, as if she’d forgotten to wear her high heels or something.

“The Hales are dangerous, Lydia,” Jackson butted in, coming to Stiles’ rescue. “Haven't you heard the rumors about how they eat newly turned weres on the night of the full moon?”

“Wha-” Stiles let out a strangled noise and Jackson patted his shoulder in fake sympathy, suppressing his usual cocky smile. Asshole! Stiles was the youngest of the lot and the only one yet to be transformed. And, for the first time in his entire lifetime Stiles felt maybe he could survive a few more years without shifting and without being Derek’s yummy dinner.

“Well, haven’t you heard the rumors about how they grow horns and a pointed tail and carry a pitchfork on other nights?” Allison countered, huffing out a soft laugh. “Those rumors are ridiculous,” she took Lydia’s side. God! What is wrong with all these smart pretty girls today!

“Can we please stop talking about the Hales?” Stiles pleaded, shivering and tired, rubbing the towel over his flat, dripping hair. “...especially Derek, who still scares me,” he swallowed hard.




Stiles walked into the library balancing the heavy weight of the thick journals in his hands. His exams were next week and he seriously needed a break from the daily Derek drama.

His entire body had been aching since morning and he knew he was nearing his shift. He’d googled a lot to research the symptoms and had been desperate to figure out his inner-form. He’d stopped though, when his search redirected him to Ten ways to cope with your monthly menstrual problems.

Stiles truly wished he would turn into an evil kanima like Jackson or a bad-ass jaguar like Allison or uh - an elephant, maybe?  He just hoped he wouldn't turn into some were-rabbit or a squirrel or a frog like Greenberg. Gross! He thought that would be really, thoroughly disappointing.

He found it weird that a certain four tables were suspiciously vacant when the rest of the library was flooded with the nerdy crowd. He dropped all his journals on his foot the moment he saw Derek sitting right in the middle of the empty space, his head buried in a book and - (Stiles gulped) - wearing thick-framed black glasses.

Creepy Derek Hale was wearing glasses, adorable thick black glasses, adjusting them with the tip of his index finger on the bridge of his sharp nose, while wrinkling it a little.

What? When? How? Stiles brain struggled to find a suitable question. Of course, Stiles knew a few weres carried their human deficiencies into their were-forms. But certainly not Derek- pure-blood born-wolf - Hale. This was insane. Stiles’ heart pathetically stuttered at the endearing sight.

He winced as Derek snapped his head up, tracking the sudden loud thud and like a flash, Stiles crouched down, scrambling to grab his scattered books, decisively avoiding Derek’s piercing gaze. While getting up, he even banged his head on the table, bending the solid metal at the corner. Yes, his power was going more haywire with each passing day, which was a different issue altogether.

The moment he saw Derek making a move to get up from his seat, maybe to rip Stiles open for disturbing his peace, Stiles barged out of the library, leaving his remaining books behind on the floor. He knew someone would collect his stuff for him. He was popular like that.




Stiles should have gotten the clue the moment he’d realized the park was deserted. He’d gulped down ten different flavors of ice cream to soothe his burning lungs, thanks to his impending change, and headed for a quick run in the park.

“That way, Derek. We need to rescue the princess.”

Stiles froze. Before he could act on his reflexes, which were pathetic by the way, Derek jumped out from the bushes in front of him, ta-da! narrowly avoiding banging into Stiles.

“What the fuck!” Stiles yelped, quickly biting his tongue when he saw a five year old riding Derek, piggyback - a brother, maybe. He’d heard the Hales bred to produce an army of their own kind. They knew they were alone in their battle against society to gain acceptance. They were lonely, Stiles felt sometimes.

He gaped at Derek, dumbfounded, who was staring back at him with a matching expression.

“Is he your princess, Derek?”

They both jumped at the kid's embarrassingly odd question, shouting “No!” in unison.

“What are you looking at?” Derek hissed, reverting to his asshole-y self instantly, but before he could move a muscle one more loud shriek came from behind.

“Derek, my life saver...”

It was the brunette Stiles had seen the other day. Laura, he remembered. She was carrying a toddler on her hip who was wailing at the top of her voice, dramatically throwing her chubby head back.

“Here. Please hold Ren.” The moment Laura shoved the girl into Derek’s hands, the baby stopped crying, like poof, magic. Ren wrapped her little arms around Derek’s neck, nuzzling and scenting Derek with her tiny nose.

“Thank goodness,” Laura breathed out in relief and Stiles had to tear his eyes away from Derek’s mouth which was rounded in a adorable O-shape, making some lovely cooing sounds. “I need to go to this mega sale, and nobody in this goddamn town is willing to babysit my kid.”

“Laura!” Derek made a failed attempt to stop her rambling. He held the sobbing girl closer to his chest, effortlessly adjusting the boy on his back, who was kind of busy rearranging Derek's perfectly gelled dark hair into spikes. “I’m in the middle of a conversation here,” Derek added in his urgent, grumpy voice.

“Oh, I've seen this one,” Laura noticed Stiles for the first time. She hummed, checking him out, shooting him an approving look before turning to her brother. “Finally. At least someone managed to make a friend around here. Mom’s gonna be so proud of you Der.” She leaned in and pecked Derek’s cheek with a loud smack. “Bye kiddo. Enjoy.” She winked at them and rushed out of the park, leaving a stunned, dizzy Stiles next to a profoundly embarrassed, flushed Derek.

After a silence that felt like whole minutes, Derek slowly turned to glare at Stiles, cocking one eyebrow up in warning. “If you say one word-”

Boop.” Little Ren bopped Derek on the nose, cutting him off mid threat.

“Urgh…” Derek let out an exasperated sound, turning on his heels to follow right behind his sister.

And, Stiles felt he was about to pass out from all the choking cuteness in air. He might have checked out Derek’s retreating ass - definitely the highlight of his day.




One weekend,  Stiles watched Derek helping an old blind woman to cross a particularly crowded junction.

She asked for Derek’s name, lovingly patting his back, complimenting him on how he smelled so clear and kind. After hearing his response though, she crazily waved her stick around, immediately shooing Derek away.

The way Derek jumped back was funny, but Stiles couldn’t make himself laugh.




Another day, on his way to school Stiles noticed a were-cat was trapped awkwardly up a tree. Before Stiles could move, Derek was already there, dumping his backpack on the ground and climbing the tree like some monkey, reaching the top in the blink of an eye.

The moment the cat saw Derek’s outstretched hand, she jumped straight to the ground, landing on her two wobbly legs, scared and shaken, cracking a few bones.

Something twisted in Stiles’ chest as he watched Derek’s wide, shocked eyes - his sad eyes and a frozen, still-outstretched hand.




Talia literally had to kick Derek out of the house to make him go to the weekly farmer's open market.

This town was weird, Derek thought, where everyone treated them like vicious monsters. They were not so bad, uh - except Peter, and his crazy great grandfather and his great great - okay, a few were kind of maniacs.

But, the Hales had came a long way and learned control with the help of experts. Just, nobody was willing to understand and accept that.

God! people had pissed their pants when he'd attempted smiling. In school, he'd always felt lonely and isolated. He'd cried all night when the coach hadn't allowed him in the school's basketball team, thanks to his extra energy. Even with Stiles things had been bad initially . He'd loved watching Stiles play Lacrosse. Apparently, that hadn't worked so well for Stiles. Derek had stopped going to the field after the coach had his nose broken.

He would agree though, he'd gotten a bit carried away in the drama class while portraying the true Hale history, but he never exactly meant to scare Stiles. In the canteen, he'd tried warning Stiles about stepping on the banana peel. Of course, it had the exact opposite outcome. To compensate, Derek had tried helping the boy to clean up his noodle-y mess. It was Derek who had collected Stiles' journals from the library and made sure they reached him. Derek didn't like when the boy literally jumped in the swimming pool, that had hurt actually, and he certainly never liked the sudden scared upturn of Stiles' heartbeat.

Derek wanted to change all this and he was hopeful. After all, Stiles was the only one who had dared to call him (a Hale), a dog, right to his face. And for the first time, Derek felt normal.

Derek's mood had been off since the morning. He was kind of definitely missing Stiles. It had been two days and he was yet to see him. Stiles was intriguing. Plus, he smelled so good. Derek’s mother wanted them to mingle among the youngsters and politely interact with elders - ‘Hell, do whatever you can to make them fucking talk’ - were her exact words and Stiles could be his start, his way in, instead of some irritatingly frightened crowd at the damn market.

As expected, the open market started to close down the moment the Hale teens - Derek and Cora - stepped foot in the market area. Derek strolled around, ignoring the weight of scrutinizing gazes from behind closed shutters. Cora tried her best not to hiss at the few scared passersby.

“Please don’t kill me, for the sake of my young kids,” the middle aged shopkeeper croaked as the Hales stopped by his fruit stall.

“But...we don’t have kids,” his wife muttered, confused and wary. The man shot her a sharp look, mentally screaming - Let me do the talking for once, woman!

Derek rolled his eyes. As Cora took a few plump oranges and casually moved on, he pressed a hundred dollar note onto the shaking countertop.

“Derek, run!”

Derek dropped his shopping bags when someone screamed in his ears.

“Scott?” Derek jerked back to look at his panting schoolmate who was always around Stiles for some reason. Derek might have been jealous of the boy for quite some time, until one day he’d walked in on him and the Argent-girl, making out.

“Stiles transformed yesterday.” As Derek dumbly continued frowning at him, Scott carried on, struggling to catch his breath. “He’s having a lil’ bit of a rough time. But...but he’s fine now. After waking up today he headed straight for the preserve -”

“Then he must have jerked off,” Cora interrupted, face deadpan . “I’m not interested in your daily Stiles news, McCall. Stick to the point,” she snapped.

“The point is...” Lydia took over from a stuttering Scott. Seemed like he was yet to recover from the shock. “Stiles’ coming for you Derek Hale,” she said, slow and clear, looking straight into Derek’s eyes, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger. Derek's scowl deepened. “Those were his words. Not mine,” she shrugged.

Before he could get a chance to process the words, Derek felt the ground below him shaking. The next moment, he got a full view of that -  a twelve foot tall, gigantic, Holy shit! red dragon who was excitedly - unnecessarily flapping his strong wings, spouting hot tongues of fire everywhere.

Oh wow...was Derek’s first thought.

Dragons were the rarest species, almost extinct. They were rare, hence endearingly treasured by all.

“Go get the Hale, Stiles! Kick his pretty ass,” Some two hundred year old chick maddeningly cheered for the dragon, blowing her fake teeth out.

Suddenly, everyone was out of their little hiding spots, excited and shouting, as if Stiles was their hero, who had been born only to rescue them all from the evil clutches of the super villains of the town - the Hales.

The dragon coughed, burning a few trees in the process, sending a few parked cars into the air with a flick of his elegant, elongated body.

Oh God… was Derek’s next thought.

An untrained, young dragon was running straight towards him to get his sweet revenge. Derek knew no matter what form he took he would be pathetic prey for this predator. Stiles could crush his bones way before they got a chance to heal. Stiles could just blow and turn Derek to ashes in seconds. Derek gulped. Finally, he was getting a taste of his own medicine. He was scared. Scared for his life.

“Stiles stop!” Scott, Allison, Lydia...all his friends shouted in unison, bravely holding their ground some hundred feet away from the advancing, stomping dragon, not even attempting to move closer.

Stiles was quickly gaining ground and Derek was wondering why someone couldn't have just grabbed that spiked swaying tail of his and flung the goddamn dragon somewhere - somewhere far far away from Derek. Yeah right! But you couldn’t blame him if his brain had short circuited seeing the unleashed beast marching towards him, mostly to kill him. Utterly stunned, he’d forgotten to run or to shift. He’d forgotten his first fucking name.

“Stiles calm down!” Scott tried to soothe the dragon. Stiles swished his tail, probably by mistake, only just missing slashing Scott’s head off. “Whoa...” Scott instinctively jumped back. “Calm down...St...Stiles,” he mumbled after a beat, weak and shaky, from two hundred feet away where he’d apparently landed.

‘There goes my last hope,’ Derek thought.

The dragon swayed both ways, struggling to hold his enormous body up. He even tripped over his own tail, clumsily skidding to a halt just a few feet from Derek, leaving thick clouds of dust in air.

Of course, this was Stiles.

From this close, Derek could see his gleaming reddish-brown scales, two curly horns protruding from his forehead and a mouth that ran most of the length of his face, perfectly resembling Stiles’ human smug smile. Derek swallowed down his choking breath, and strained his neck to look up at the dragon’s hooded golden-flecked, amber eyes. The dragon blinked, tilting his long neck, keenly watching Derek.

“I uh-” Derek tried to negotiate with these two words which had somehow managed to escape his tight throat.

The Dragon suddenly ducked his huge crested head right in front of Derek, baring his razor-sharp teeth at him. He huffed out hot steam through his twitching oval nostrils, thumping one foot on the ground, making Derek take a shaky step back.

“Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight…” The air was filled with the stupid chorus from the onlookers. What the hell! What are they...twelve?

“Is the Dragon gonna kill the wolf, mom?” Apparently, a child was more sensible than hundreds of so called adults, Derek thought.

“No, he won’t, baby. The wolf is the monster here.”

“Then why doesn’t he look like one?”


“He isn’t even shifting. He don’t want to attack.”

Indeed, Derek would never want to attack Stiles. How could he? Of course, he would never want to get his own ass kicked either. From the corner of his eye Derek watched as the crowd cautiously moved forward. They encircled him, still maintaining a safe distance, excited to see the free show of Derek’s misery.

The next moment, Derek was thrown back by a sudden burst of hot fire, separating him from the stunned crowd.

Derek stumbled a little before regaining his balance, alternatively blinking between the dancing flames and their source - the dragon, who was now standing between the agitated crowd and the Hales like a strong, protective wall.

“Cool...” The dragon turned around at Cora’s impressed remark.

Derek didn’t move a muscle though, carefully calculating the next move as the dragon sauntered his way back. He slumped down on the ground, folding his sturdy limbs, lowering himself to match Derek’s height.

And, before Derek could blink, a long, rough tongue was sliding up and down against Derek’s jaw line, his chin, his neck, his full fucking face, leaving traces of saliva and something that smelled roasted, sticky and wet. This reminded Derek of how some creatures would literally vomit on their prey before eating them - or was it just spiders - whatever, Derek’s brain had stopped functioning way back.

“Is he eating the wolf?” Someone gasped Derek's concerns out loud.

“Nah, I think he’s just licking the wolf.”

“More like, he’s claiming the wolf.”

“Aw, he’s forming a bond with him.”

O-kay. Quick murmurs running through the crowd answered his unasked questions.

The tense atmosphere in the crowd slowly cleared replaced by what Derek thought smelled like surprise, even curiosity. They smelled anything but scared and vulnerable and certainly not what Derek was  expecting. He tried to move his focus to them, but it was distracting when Stiles’ slick tongue was finding its way into his ear.

“I...yuk.” Derek shoved it back, pathetically pressing his sweaty palms somewhere near the dragon’s jaw as its soft tentacles tickled his skin everywhere. “Don’t,” Derek ordered, wiping his sticky face with a corner of his shirt sleeve.

That must've done the trick, because next moment, the dragon was squinting at him in disappointment and was already shifting. The shift looked painful and awkward as Stiles shrank and swelled at all different angles, fluctuating between his human and dragon self, making some odd, loud, orgasmic sounds.

“H-oly shit! That was awesome,” Stiles flailed his now human limbs, twisting his neck carelessly, testing it. “Ha!” he looked at his wagging tail, proudly and lovingly, concentrating for a beat before retracting it somewhere behind him.

Derek stood frozen, blinking at Stiles’ flushed, bare, sexy everything.

“Call the Sheriff, the wolf’s gonna eat his boy,” someone stammered.

“No,” Stiles retorted, taking a step closer, moving into Derek's personal space. “Derek won't hurt me,” he shouted, addressing the crowd but directly meeting Derek's confused gaze, simultaneously reaching out to cup Derek's face. His lips twitched into a soft smile as he brushed a thumb through his own mess on Derek’s skin. “Derek, wouldn’t hurt anyone,” he declared.

This was too much to take in. Derek might have known Stiles for a month now. He might have definitely liked Stiles more than he was comfortable admitting, but he couldn't find any explanation why Stiles was behaving as if they were long lost mates. As if, Stiles had figured out what Derek was.

Or was it just his shitty young dragon hormones, Derek couldn’t be sure of.

So, Derek made a silly grumbling sound.

“Shh...calm down, bad boy,” Stiles gently patted his cheek, looking at him with warm eyes. “Do you know, you're not that scary?”

Derek maneuvered awkwardly as Stiles leaned further into him, pushing their bodies together to seek Derek’s warmth. “Do you know, you're uh...naked?”

“Uh huh. Like what you see? You bet you do, I can smell you now.”

Derek rolled his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fingers, keeping his hands at his sides, decisively avoiding touching Stiles.

“Mommy, are they gonna kiss now?” the kid asked.

“Let's go home, baby. Looks like things are gonna go beyond a G rating.”

“But mom, Is the monster gonna be alright?”

“Umm…Yes hon. I guess, your little monster is in good hands.” There was a brief pause before she continued. “...actually, he’s just a puppy.”

Dog joke, seriously? But Derek was so ready to live with that. That and...a beautiful, very naked Stiles.