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Welcome to Your Life (There's No Turning Back)

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The plane banks left and Stiles peers through the small oval window just catching a glimpse of the LA Skyline. He’s home. Well, not home, but in his country of origin at least, in his home state, just a three hour drive to Beacon Hills, to his home and Scott. It’s been over a year since Stiles sat in his home room and listened to a rep from a foreign exchange program wax poetically about the benefits of experiencing life in another country. At the time he’d brushed it off with a ‘hey that sounds amazing but I’ve got hunters and werewolves to deal with’ but then there were events that took place and one month later Stiles found himself on a plane to London.  It’s been sixteen months since he’s has set foot on American soil and all in all Stiles thinks it should feel weirder when he steps off the plane and into LAX.

 

It feels like no time has passed at all, like his life in Camden Town was a fleeting dream, hazy and distant, instead of an overwhelming and involved experience. He misses London immediately, the same way he missed California when he left, with a deep ache and something rolling in his stomach that makes his lower lip want to quiver. But as he makes his way to baggage claim his confidence returns because he’s going to see his dad and if there is anything he misses more than he misses England right now it’s his father who he’s only spoken to on the phone only a handful of times (international rates are a bitch) and emailed an absurd amount.

 

He’s stepping off of the escalator, the thick soles of his Doc Martin boots echoing on the tile floor when he is suddenly being crushed into the arms of his father.  Stiles lets himself be held despite being six weeks shy of eighteen now and just as tall as the sheriff. It feels good. His host parents had been amazing, like seriously he loves them, but not like he loves the man who raised him and who understands him on a level nobody else ever will. He’s missed this, Stilinskis are a tactile bunch and the hug sets something right in him he hadn’t even been aware was off-kilter.

 

“So” the sheriff says, slapping Stiles on the back one last time before backing up a bit. “What in the world did you do to your lip?”

 

“Uh could we at least get home before we argue?”

 

“I thought the rules said no piercings or tattoos while abroad?” The sheriff glares but there’s a smirk trying to make an appearance.

 

“Well I didn’t get any tattoos, so we can count that as a win. I mean me following even fifty percent of the rules is an improvement right?”

 

“Don’t remind me” He smiles, before guiding Stiles over to the baggage carousel. “So how was it? You look different…”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”

 

“No, no, it’s good despite the lip and the apparently the ears, jesus. But you look more confident, more grown up maybe.”

 

“And isn’t that ironic” Stiles smirks. His father had found out all about what Stiles had been getting up to in the preserve before he left for London. It had to do with werewolves, hunters and Stiles suddenly gaining some overwhelming magical powers. Spark his ass, Deaton needed to pay closer attention to his research. Anyway, if he was going to mature you’d think it would have been during the period where he’d been constantly running for his life and taking care of the pack, not his months spent abroad studying magic under the guise of the International High School Student Exchange Program. But here he is, in control of his powers and more in touch with who he is and definitely more experienced thanks to some very open guys he’d met in the bohemian neighborhood of Camden Town he’d lived in.

 

“Well” Stiles shrugs, “I guess I just needed to take a step back to get everything you know” Stiles makes a vague gesture, “sorted.”

 

“Right” The sheriff smirks as he grabs Stiles’ suitcase from the conveyer belt. “Well I am glad the time away helped, but just be aware that Scott has been stalking me ever since he heard you were coming home. So prepared to be pounced on the moment you get in the door.”

 

“You’re talking to him?” Stiles asks, last time he had tried to bring up the pack with his father he had shut him down, hard. Surprisingly he’d been more upset about the danger and the lying than the actual existence of werewolves. He still holds a grudge against the pack though, Stiles thinks it’s kind of extreme seeing as he’s fine despite the danger but apparently it’s the principle of the thing.

 

“It was hard not to when I found him crawling in your window last week.” The sheriff chuckles, “He said something about catching your scent or something, I don’t know. The kid has always been a bit weird.”

 

“Yeah, but he puts up with my weird. It s a relationship of mutual weirdness.”

 

Stiles takes his suitcase from his dad and rolls it along following the sheriff to where he has parked the cruiser. The drive home is comfortable, the sheriff asking about things Stiles mentioned in his emails and about how he’s handling his magic these days, neither of them wants another magical A-Bomb going off. Overall it’s nice and the three hours pass quickly.

 

They stop into the gas station when they pull into town, the tank is about tapped and Stiles has been craving Reese’s like you wouldn’t believe.  He’s just rounding the corner by the cooler section, slipping his hand out to grab a handful of candy when he spots the Camaro pulling up. Stiles has a moment of thinking that it could possibly be anyone else, maybe Isaac was driving the car nowadays. But of course his luck being what it is Derek unfolds himself from the front seat and walks through the door just as Stiles is handing over his cash to the teller.  Derek freezes when he sees him, one foot in the air and one large hand on the door. Stiles waves awkwardly before receiving his change and slipping past him. He’s half expecting the Alpha to stop him, grab him and throw him back against the door as he demands to know where Stiles has been, but Derek remains still as Stiles passes and when he slips back into the passenger seat Derek’s nowhere in sight.


To say Scott is happy to see him is an understatement, the guy practically rushes him when he gets out of the car, flying at him and tackling him to the ground. Stiles can’t even bring himself to complain, he’s just so goddamned happy that his best friend is here and close and seemingly safe.  His dad yells something at them about dinner and keeping it PG on the front lawn before he disappears inside. Scott pulls back after a couple minutes with a big dopey smile that just exudes Scott-ness and Stiles finally feels like he’s well and truly home.

 

Scott eats dinner with him and the Sheriff before his dad has to leave for a late shift at the station. It’s quiet and slightly awkward but they have pizza from Stiles’ favorite place and he even manages to make his dad choke down a salad (Stiles is certain the man has been lacking in the leafy greens department) so it’s not too bad. They settle down in Stiles’ room afterward, Stiles starting to unpack his suitcase, sorting things into dirty and clean piles as Scott sits on his computer chair watching.

 

“So how was London?” Scott asks.

 

“Freaking amazing” Stiles smiles as he sits his Bouncing Souls hoodie in the clean pile, “I don’t know how to explain it, man. It was just…like exactly what I needed you know? I feel like I left here as some traumatized little kid and came back… me.” Scott is looking lost, but he nods and Stiles appreciates the effort. “I know it might not make a lot of sense but it was good, I learned a lot about my magic and where it comes from, a lot of stuff that could help around here actually. I’m just more in control of myself. Plus, dude, I got so much cock.”

 

“Oh gross, can we please not do this?”

 

“No seriously I was like Wayne Rooney of British cocks.”

 

“The who?”

 

“He’s a football…you know what never mind, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Stiles Stilinski is no longer in possession of his virginity. “

 

“Well good for you, man.” Scott smiles, if anyone knows the extent to which Stiles had needed to get laid it was his best friend.

 

“Yeah, turns out I’m charming in England, who’d have thought?” Stiles tosses his last pair of chucks into his closet before zipping up the empty suitcase to store back under his bed.

 

“So, was there anyone special?”

 

“What like a boyfriend?”

 

“Yeah, I mean you were there like forever.”

 

“Nah, I didn’t really have a lot of free time, you know?”

 

“Uh-huh” Scott’s eyebrow is raised, and where the hell did he learn that? He leaves for five

minutes and Derek rubs off all his worst habits on the pack.

 

“What do you mean, uh-huh?”

 

“Nothing…”

 

“Oh don’t play coy with me Scott McCall, you are many things but coy is not now, nor will it ever be, one of them.”

 

“I’m just saying you had plenty of time to play co-op with me over skype, but you didn’t have time for one date?”

 

“Hook-ups are better than dates, all the sex and no commitment.” Scott looks unimpressed. “I was living the dream, you are supposed to be envious and wish you could have lived vicariously through me!”

 

“Uh-huh”

 

Stiles is going to kill him, because he knows what Scott is thinking. Scott thinks that Stiles couldn’t commit to anyone he met in London because he is still hung up on a certain sour wolf, and that is…that is just ridiculous because he is aware that there is no hope there, okay? He knows that he’s loud and pushy and gangly and prone to bouts of uncontrollable magic. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Derek Hale, the freaking Alpha wolf of Beacon Hills with his muscles and scowliness that hides his enormous trust issues and a good heart would never be into him. He’s completely aware, so being hung up on him would be one gigantic waste of time.

 

So okay…Stiles could have had more than a casual hook-up. There were a couple guys who wanted more and one in particular that had nearly stalked him for a date, but he just wasn’t interested. He had a lot of work to do. Reigning in the amount of magic he’d suddenly found himself with wasn’t easy you know! Urgh…fine, he might think about Derek from time to time, but let’s be fair who wouldn’t? Derek is pretty much the definition of tall, dark and handsome with a side of tortured bad boy, anyone with a pulse would be into that!  He’s like a more handsome version of James Dean, if James Dean wore leather and featured heavily in every one of Stiles’ wet dreams. Okay, so he might have a thing for Derek still but it’s not like he denied himself anything because of it. He had gotten laid plenty, and if all the guys he did get with happened to stand a little taller than Stiles and have dark hair with a penchant for leather...well he lived in Camden Town and it wasn’t that uncommon.

 

Eventually Scott dropped the pretense of alluding to the Derek shaped elephant in the room and started harping on about Allison and how their on again off again relationship was decidedly back on and how her eyes were the color of deep mahogany or some such that Stiles tuned out after about five minutes in favor or trying to remember where he’d just stored his backpack. School was starting in just over two weeks. Foreign exchange students usually returned home immediately following the end of the school year, but seeing as Stiles hadn’t been studying at your average educational institution he’d been lucky he’d been able to exhibit enough control over his powers that his guide let him come home at all this year. There was more than one student who would be continuing on for another term in Camden.


Stiles spends the next two weeks easing into his old life, dinner with his dad, Co-Op with Scott, meditation for his magic and being third wheel with Scott and Alison when they decided he needed to get out of the house. He manages to put off seeing the rest of the pack, Stiles isn’t sure if Derek has told them he’s back or not after their run in at the gas station but none of them stop by. Well except Scott and Allison who as of last year are officially part of Derek’s pack. He can’t make up his mind whether to be glad they are giving him space or disappointed that after a more than a year they don’t invade his privacy without his permission. He hadn’t seen any of them since before the night Stiles came into his powers, he sometimes thinks they must be afraid of him. Other times he thinks he may just be too big of a liability now. Scott promises it’s not either but here he is the night before the start of school and he still hasn’t heard from any of them.

 

Stiles tosses on a dark t-shirt after his shower, grabbing his towel to rub at the remaining water soaking through his hair, it sticks up in absurd directions afterwards and he haphazardly smoothes it to the side before dropping into his bed and grabbing the laptop already sitting there. He’s queuing up Ghostbusters because he needs something light but distracting to take his mind off things when he hears a tap at his window. He assumes it is Scott having learned his lesson after slipping in unannounced last week but a moment later he sees pale limbs and blonde hair slip through the frame with an unimpressed look.

 

“Are you done hiding now?”

 

“I wasn’t hiding.” He sits up, “I’ve been here for two weeks.”

 

“You know what I mean.” Erica says crossing her arms and angling her hips until they’re leaning against the wall. “You haven’t come to the house.”

 

“Well I didn’t see you guys banging down my door.”

 

“You’ve been gone for over a year.”

 

“Oh you noticed?” Stiles is towing a thin line and he knows it.

 

“Don’t you give me that, of course I noticed, we all noticed you little asshole. You just ran away without telling anyone.” She said marching forward, “Scott didn’t even know where you went until we finally broke down and went to your father.”

 

“Well you’d know all about running away wouldn’t you?” Stiles has no idea why he just said that. He knows it is harsh but he’s lost and to be honest still a little hurt that none of them came to him after everything that went down. He was there for two weeks after the big show down before he’d left the country. No one had even visited him in the hospital. Erica just rolls her eyes, as if she can see straight through the jibe and is not interested in addressing it.

 

“Let me try this again, you’re avoiding us and you haven’t been to the house.”

 

“What house?”  Stiles knows what house. Scott told him about the whole pack helping to rebuild the burnt down husk of the Hale house last year. It had taken a long time and a lot of work, but Scott had texted him a picture of the finished product. It had made Stiles so happy it physically hurt, because Derek had deserved that, a home and the pack who had helped build it. Then he had thought about the fact that the pack hadn’t included him and he had made his way to a pub that didn’t card and went into a secluded alcove with a tall man with bright green eyes.

 

“Stop being difficult Stilinski” Erica rolls her eyes, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. They’ve all been waiting for you to approach them, because they don’t get it.”

 

“Don’t get what?” Stiles moves over so that Erica can sit down beside him.

 

“That you think it’s you who did something wrong, not the other way around.” She says.

 

“Of course it was me” Stiles doesn’t understand how they could not know that. He’d killed people, as in multiple persons, he’d murdered them. If that’s not wrong Stiles isn’t sure what is.

 

“You’re all idiots” Erica shrugs, laying back so that she’s curled into Stiles’ side. Stiles sighs, he knows they should probably talk about this more, but he’s always been a fan of ignoring problems until they go away and even if that hasn’t always worked out well for him in the past Stiles opts to pull the laptop closer and push play.

 

“I like your gauges by the way.” She says, flicking one of his ears, “how did daddy dearest take that?”

 

“He’s choosing to be happy I didn’t come home with facial tattoos.”

 

“Good man.” She nods, sitting her head on Stiles’ shoulder and settling into watch Bill Murray & Co. battle the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.

 

Stiles eventually falls asleep while the Gatekeeper is doing her creepy thing and when he wakes up his laptop is on his desk and Erica is gone. Though there is a post-it note stuck to his forehead. He peels it off and stares at it with blurry eyes, Don’t be late to school Rebel without Claws! :) Stiles is surprised at just how horrible the pun is but appreciates the hand drawn smiley face so he sticks it to the side of his mirror and starts to get ready for the first day of his senior year.

 

He ends up looking like an amalgamation of pre and post London Stiles when he steps out of the house. He’d found that his black skinny jeans and Ramones T-Shirt looked good under one of his old red flannels and his steel gauges and lip ring contrasted well with his old black rimmed glasses he only used to wear when he was too lazy to put in his contacts. He moves quickly to his jeep and turns over the engine just in time to not be late for registration.

 

He makes his way to school quickly avoiding the cluster-fuck that is the school parking lot on the first day of school by parking on the street and makes his way to the gym to pick up his schedule. He gets a few odd looks here and there from kids who remember him but he moves quickly not wanting to engage in conversation.  Of course he ends up in line right behind a deviously smiling Erica Reyes, because of course their last names had to be next to each other in the alphabet, and of course where Erica goes so goes Boyd who is often followed by Isaac when he’s not attached to Scott’s hip. So yes, three little wolf cubs are currently standing in front of him with expectant expressions and raised eyebrows, seriously did Derek give them fucking lessons or something?

 

“Hey…” Stiles waves, and that did not sound awkward, nope not at all.

 

“Stiles” Body nods. They all pretty much look the same, though Isaac may look a bit more confident than when he left, he guesses that probably is a result of spending more time with the pack, but overall it’s like he never left. Except the awkwardness, that is new. But then Isaac is wrapping him up in a hug and not letting go.

 

“H-hey dude,” Stiles breathes, wrapping his arms around Isaac in return, behind him Boyd is looking on appreciatively and Erica just smirks.

 

“You don’t smell like pack” Isaac grouches as he steps back.

 

“Uh, sorry man, couldn’t really run back from England for intravenous pack cuddles.”

 

“So you’re back now?” Boyd asks as Isaac retreats back to their sides.

 

“Uh yeah, in the flesh” Stiles does something that vaguely resembles jazz hands and thinks that maybe not all that much has changed after all.

 

“Here” Stiles startles when a sheet of paper is trust in his face by an ever impeccably dressed red-head. “You have AP History with me and Boyd first period and then English with Scott and Isaac.” Stiles looks over the rest of the schedule while Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder and proceeds to punch him in the shoulder hard.

 

“Owe! Seriously?” Stiles asks as Lydia glares. “Fine! whatever, AP History us and Boyd, can’t wait.”

 

“Hey!” Scott chirps as he and Allison join the group, that makes the entire pack minus Jackson who Stiles just can’t wait to see. “Let me see your schedule, we have to compare.” Stiles escapes to Scott’s side to compare their schedules, a time honored first day tradition. Besides English they have gym and Trig together and through a similar process with the rest of the pack Stiles discovers there is not one class that he has without one member or another. It’s comforting to know he won’t be alone. Though there is a part of him that realizes that being around them again should be more awkward. Don’t get him wrong, he’s sure they’ll get there. Lydia is barely hiding her annoyance and Isaac looks like he doesn’t want to let him out of his sight. So it’s not a stretch to anticipate a major blow up in the near future and that’s not even taking into consideration a certain Alpha.

 

They all slowly make their way to classes, Boyd and Lydia taking seats on either side of him when they get to AP History. Essentially setting up defense between him and the other students who keep throwing him furtive glances. No doubt his reappearance complete with several facial piercings stirring up overblown rumors about his absence.

 

The class is a breeze after a year spent pouring over large grimoires and simultaneously doing on-line course work so that he wouldn’t fall behind in his actual schooling. They read through a syllabus and review the larger projects that will be covered in the semester, one group paper in particular making Stiles glad that Boyd is present, the guy has always had a knack for historical dates. By the time the class is over and he’s joining Scott for Trig Stiles is feeling like he’s getting back into the swing of things.

 

It’s at lunch that things come to a head courtesy of one Jackson Whitmore who makes his way to the table the pack is sharing, sits down his backpack and flops into the seat across from him before opening his mouth and greeting him with, “So, running away, real mature. You want to tell us where your lanky ass has been for the last year and a half?” The table falls into immediate silence and if Stiles is expecting someone to tell Jackson to lay off, he’s sorely disappointed. Even Scott looks nonplussed, the traitor.

 

“Uh...”

 

“Even Scott wouldn’t tell us” Lydia glares.

 

“He needed some time, okay?” Scott offers automatically, as if it’s something he’s grown used to over the time Stiles has been away. And does that just make Stiles feel like the shittiest friend ever. The expectant looks return and Stiles sighs heavily, he owes them an explanation in a way he supposes. Though part of him is still bitter when he remembers the days before he left, but time has lessened the hurt and his time away was literally the best thing he could have done. If they had still been close, if Scott and the rest had been at the hospital every day he’s not sure if he could have left them to fend for themselves.

 

“A-after the whole” Stiles makes a motion with his hands that is supposed to indicate an explosion, “thing that happened...I just, I realized that I didn’t have a hold on things. I suddenly had all this power and no way to know how to handle it.” he sighed, “Deaton introduced me to a woman who runs a program in England and I went there so she could teach me.”

 

“Are you trying to tell us you went to Hogwarts?” Boyd asked.

 

“What do you mean all this power? I thought you were a just a spark.” Lydia sniped, but Stiles can see through her anger to her worry/jealousy.

 

“Nah” he smiled, leaning back and grabbing the apple off his lunch tray, “seems like Dr. D missed the mark on that one.”

 

“So what?” Allison asked as the gang started eating, “are you like Deaton level with magic now?”

 

“Oh no” Stiles answered and if they all assumed that he meant he wasn’t up to Deaton’s ability instead of well past it, well that was fine with him.

 


He knows logically that he can’t avoid Derek forever. Beacon Hills is a small town and all of his friends are literally Betas to his Alpha. So yeah, he is really only delaying the inevitable. That being said, he is sort of fine with that. Delaying is good, it’s safe. If he doesn’t see Derek then the guy doesn’t have an opportunity to claw his face off or you know, glare at him disappointedly. Also it is less likely that Stiles will do something embarrassing like try to kiss said glare off his big wolfy face. Of course avoidance only works for so long when you’re dealing with werewolves.

 

“No please, let yourself right in” Stiles says as Derek pushes past him into the house. “Nice to see you, how have you been? Seen any good movies lately?”

 

“Stiles shut up.”

 

“Well that didn’t take long.” Stiles rolls his eyes before turning away and making his way back towards the kitchen where he’d been making himself an after school  PB&J before Derek had almost broken down the front door with his knocking. But to be fair, at least he used the door.

 

Stiles spreads an even layer of peanut butter over his bread as he wonders if it is because Derek has developed some manners or he just doesn't’ feel close enough to Stiles to come through his window unannounced anymore. The later is more likely but it also kind of makes Stiles want to roll up into a little ball of angst. He quickly shakes the feeling off though, he is independent now. Maybe he misses being close the pack sometimes, but in return he is confident and fucking magic incarnate so he can deal. What? He can...

 

“-iles...Stiles!”

 

Stiles whips his head up from where he’s been slathering a truly horrendous amount of peanut butter, “Ah man, now I have to start all over...” he whines.

 

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Derek asks, arms crossed across his chest.

 

“Uh, no?” Stiles winces, “but to be fair I wasn’t expecting company and the engine is running a little low.” Everyone knows Stiles works best on a full stomach.

 

“I asked if you’ve been out in the preserve lately, there’s been an unusually strong smell of magic coming from different areas and I need to know if it’s just you messing around or if we have a threat on our hands.”

 

“So, right to business huh?”  

 

“Stiles...” Derek growls.

 

“No, alright. Geez, I haven’t been playing out in your woods. If there is a smell out there it’s something else.” He sighs, of course Derek would be here about business, not like they were all that close before he left, “I don’t just use my powers willy nilly anymore. I meditate or I practice here.”

 

“Okay”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Whatever.” Stiles rolls his eyes, “I guess somethings really don’t change. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Stiles takes his plate planning to head up to his room only to be stopped by a strong arm around his bicep.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means” Stiles glares as his magic reaches out shocking the wolf’s hand away. “That it’s business as usual, stop by to use me for my knowledge and leave me with no idea what’s going on.”

 

“Wh...You...you were the one who left Stiles. If you wanted to be kept in the loop I assumed you would have written or called or hell asked Scott!”

 

“And why would I do that huh? You all made it pretty clear what you all thought of me when you avoided me for weeks after the...the accident. By the time anyone, even Scott, came looking for me I has already been in England for six days!”

 

“Yeah because you ran away!”

 

“From what? No one was there!” Derek freezes and if Stiles didn’t know better he’d say the older man almost looks remorseful but he pushes it aside. “Okay...” Stiles takes a deep breath tearing his eyes away from the man across from him. “Listen, it doesn’t matter, yeah? I’m glad I could help or whatever, you know your way out.” Stiles slips past Derek uninterrupted this time and makes his way up to his room. The front door closes soon after.

 

Meditation is a thing that needs to happen now, like right this second, Stiles thinks as he tosses his sandwich onto his desk and goes to curl up on his yoga mat. He’d set up his meditation space in the corner of his room farthest from the window and just to the side of his bed incase he needed the grounding force of his stones and incantations in the middle of the night. He opens up the large wooden box that sits to the side of the mat. He pulls out the valerian oil and rubs the liquid between his palms allowing the calming scent to fill the room. His stones are already spread out around the mat from the day before.

 

The stones are the most important items, grounding him to the earth, anchoring him to places of importance. They were all gathered from different locations that held value to him. A shining black onyx he’d bought in the Camden Town Market near his host family’s house. A bit of marble he’d snatched from Trafalgar Square when he’d taken in the sites with friends. A smooth pebble from the beach near his grandparent’s house where his parents used to take him in the summers. And  the newest addition to his collection, a rough hewn pyroxenite he’d collected from the preserve a couple days after he’d returned from London. They are all special to him, all have memories attached that help to calm or center him in some way and right now he needs that.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath, feeling the anger and magic steady and hold before retreating just a bit. It’s not enough to calm him entirely but enough to take the edge off. His magic is always edgy when he’s angry or hurt and Derek manages to push both of those feelings to the forefront with little to no effort.

 

Magic, Stiles has found is different for most everyone with it. Most people are classified as Sparks like Deaton had originally assumed Stiles was. They can feel magic, tempt it out with belief and words but can’t really do much besides simple tasks and some protective spells. There are wiccans who have perhaps a bit more skill but mostly just a lot of knowledge, witches who could do most simple spells, move objects, heat water, etc. Then you got into the scary stuff,  people with the ability to do all of that and more. Magi who can harness energy and elements to their will, trace time, change the weather, stop hearts. They are rare, maybe five people on the planet at any given time have that amount of power. Stiles had not been overly thrilled to find out he was one of them.

 

He can handle it now though, his training with Elena had been so very worth the time away from his father and Scott. He had been so scared when he left, of himself mostly, and he couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d hurt anyone he cared about. Now he knows though, what he can do and what is safe and how to harness that big messy ball of power within his chest that always seems to want to creep out of his pores at the most inconvenient times.

 

Stiles takes another deep breath, closing his eyes and letting himself work his magic like a ball of twine, imagining a large golden ball of glowing energy in his chest, winding and unwinding it, making patterns with the strands. It calms him and after a few minutes he feels his tension bleed away.

 

His father comes home an hour after and Stiles breaks from his routine to make dinner and do  homework in front of the television while his dad makes comments about his improved attention span. It’s nice and peaceful and he forgets about Derek’s visit until he finally makes his way up to his room around eleven.

 

He’s prepared to flop into bed and sleep a solid seven hours before he has to be up for school but he can’t help thinking about what Derek said. Someone working enough magic in the woods to call the wolf’s attention is probably bad news. Knowing their luck it’s probably warlock with a grudge against werewolves. It’s not safe and even if Stiles isn’t necessarily pack anymore he doesn’t want any of them hurt. He makes up his mind to visit the preserve soon, scope out what’s going on. No doubt with his training he is better suited to sussing out whether the magic is malignant or not.


It’s two days later that Stiles gets the time to make the drive out to the woods. He drives there straight from his after school study session with Lydia and Boyd. That history paper is really going to be the death of him, so many dates to memorize. Stiles has never really understood why whether the event happened on a Friday or Saturday was more important than the people’s motivations and decision making.

 

Stiles has an hour or so before the sun sets and as he lumbers out of his jeep and towards the entrance to the preserve. He can sense the magic Derek was talking about right away. It’s not what he was expecting. It’s not human for one thing. Stiles walks further into the woods following the slippery feel of untamed magic that wisps through the trees. He’s about a mile in when he feels the pull getting stronger, he’s no longer just following a trail, the magic user is now calling him in as well. It’s a pulling like two halves of a magnet, two powerful beings acknowledging the other. The clearing he finds is small but open, dense trees surrounding a nearly perfect circle and it’s then that Stiles realizes he’s made a mistake. There’s only one thing he knows of that has the power to move nature in that way.

 

The sprite is standing directly across from him, her blue skin stark against the red turning leaves  of the trees behind her. She’s beautiful of course, they all are, a trademark of their kind. Her blonde hair flows down her bare shoulders, stopping just below her uncovered breasts and Stiles is sure if he swung that way he would be having all kinds of trouble focusing. As it stands, all he can focus on are her dark black eyes, cruel and cold in their overly large sockets.

 

“Magi” she says, bowing her head in reverence. Stiles bows back but says nothing. “What has brought you to me young one?”

 

“Y-you’ve been noticed” Stiles answers, he knows he’s on dangerous ground here. Sprites are fierce and territorial. He doesn’t know how she’s come to be here but he knows beyond a doubt that getting her to leave will not be easy.

 

“So what if I have?” Stiles blinks and the Sprite is suddenly halfway across the clearing and it’s then he notices the staff she’s clutching.

 

“The territory is already claimed.”

 

“What by that pack of muts?” she hisses, “There is no beast that can claim dominion over nature.”

 

“Okay...here’s the thing, this pack is under my protection.” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance he doesn’t actually feel.  “I appreciate your bond with nature or whatever but there are plenty of other places to “nest”” and yes Stiles may actually make air quotes with his fingers.

 

“You insolent!” She starts towards him with her staff raised, but Stiles quickly backs up sending out his own magic. It wraps down his arm and around his wrist settling in his palm and branching out to form a golden glow, a shield against the Sprite’s outburst.

 

“I’m just trying to have a conversation,” He says, he’s trying to stay calm but part of him is aware that his heart is beating double time.

 

“You have no authority to command me.”

 

“You know that’s not true.” Stiles says, he knows he’s pushing his luck but the hierarchy is clear that he has the right to demand she move. Sprites are feral and dangerous and he does not want her near his pack. The pack, not his pack. He’s not even sure why she would want to settle so close to a human town anyway. Sprites usually keep to dark deep forests where they can commune with nature without disturbance. It’s better for everyone that way.

 

“You’re just a boy, Magi.” she states, tilting her staff up and out towards his shield.

 

“Yeah, maybe” Stiles nods, “But I still stand for this pack and this territory is claimed. You need to find another home.”

 

The Sprite looks like she wants to lash out at him, shoulders tense and eyes unblinking, but after a moment her posture relaxes. Stiles lets out a sigh of relief and lowers his shield as she lowers her staff.

 

“Thank-” she lashes out suddenly her staff ramming hard into his torso. He doubles over immediately but finds his center just as quickly, reaching for his magic reflexively. It pools in his hands, taking the form of a glowing gold ball that flickers with light as the power swirls within it. The Sprite starts toward him again and he releases it, the ball heading at speed towards her and hitting home on her left flank. She screams as the skin crackles and burns but Stiles doesn’t have a moment to waste, he strikes out again, flying forward and landing a blow to her upper back with his elbow as he passes behind her.

 

She looks shocked, as if she doesn’t expect Stiles to be so well trained, and if she had come a year or two earlier her expectations would have been right on. Now however, well Stiles can take care of himself. She steps back gaining some much needed space between them and Stiles takes the opportunity to focus his energy and magic, readying for another attack. It’s very off putting then, that the Sprite chooses that moment to disappear. As in one moment she’s standing in front of Stiles with a feral grin and the next there’s nothing but Stiles and the forest. He stands still for a few moments, expecting her to pop back into sight and strike but it doesn’t happen.

 

“Well that was anti-climatic.” He sighs.

 

He stays for a few more minutes, looking around for any signs of the Sprite and what she may or may not be up to. He doesn’t come up with much, just a few piles of torn up dirt and what looks to be a nest made of leaves and soft grass where she’s obviously been sleeping.  He makes his way back out of the preserve after deciding that she is really not waiting around to ambush him. The walk is short but his chest hurts a bit where she struck him with her staff, no doubt it’s going to leave mark.

 

It’s not a long drive home and Stiles is only partially surprised to see Derek and Scott waiting on his doorstep. He knows that Scott is in Derek’s pack now but it stills knocks him back a bit to see the evidence of it. When he’d left they’d just gotten over being at each other’s throats and were making their way towards civil.Now they look almost like a team, both wearing ridiculous leather jackets and scowling in his direction.

 

“Whoa...slow down there wolvies a guy might think you’re happy to see him.”

 

“Where were you?” Scott asks without any preamble, which rude, but okay.

 

“Uh I was just out…” Stiles isn’t sure why he hesitates to tell them what he was up to, but part of him feels like it wouldn’t be a good idea.

 

“Deaton wants to see you.” Derek says heading towards the Camaro without so much as a please. Stiles rolls his eyes but follows.

 

The ride is short and uneventful, Scott rambling about something or other which Stiles only feels partially bad about not following as closely as a best friend should. When they arrive at the clinic it’s empty except for a woman who is just leaving with what looks to be the worlds ugliest pomeranian in her arms. Deaton nods to acknowledge them and when the door shuts behind the woman and her dog Derek flips the sign in the front door over to say closed and locks the door.

 

“Stiles” Deaton says, “Nice to have you back.”

 

“Yeah that was almost believable” Stiles nods, Deaton may have been somewhat of a mentor before he left the country but they were never really that friendly. Deaton says nothing but motions the three back into one of the exam rooms for some privacy.

 

“I’ve been looking into the traces of magic you sensed in the forest” he begins, “from what I can tell it’s not human in origin.”

 

“You mean it’s some kind of monster?” Scott sighs. “great.”

 

“Not necessarily, but it’s definitely not just some teenager messing around with magic in the woods either. This magic is focused and controlled. I was not able to specify what it was the but the intent is very clear and the amount of magic that would be needed to permeate the air as it has would be significant.”

 

“So what do we do?” Derek asks.

 

“Well I don’t know, you would need to narrow down what you’re dealing with before we could come up with a solid game plan, we don’t even know if it’s here to cause anyone harm yet.”Stiles snorts and suddenly everyone in the room is looking at him.

 

“What?”  Stiles shrugs, “Oh come on, when is it not something meaning us harm, I mean ever?”

 

“Well it’s easy enough to determine” Deaton continues.

 

“How?” Scott asks.

 

“Take Stiles to the preserve” he says as if it’s the obvious answer.

 

“Why would that help?” Scott asks, and Stiles may try to subtly shrink back towards the doorway. “Why would he be able to figure out what it is if you couldn’t?”  Deaton shoots an annoyed look at Stiles who stops his measly attempt at escape when it draws the other’s attention to him.

 

“Because,” the vet intoned, “Stiles is a Magi.”

 

Derek’s eyes widen, immediately looking like he doesn’t want to believe it. No doubt wondering why the powers that be would deign to give a spastic teenager that kind of power, and you know what Stiles is with him, he wouldn’t mind having a conversation with the Powers That Be himself to figure out exactly what they were thinking. Still, sourwolf doesn’t have to look so sceptical.

 

Scott, his poor buddy, just continues to look confused. “What’s a Magi?”

 

“It’s nothing.” Stiles interrupts.

 

“It’s not nothing.” Derek says, but the tone isn’t angry or surprised, he’s just stating a fact. “Magi are powerful sorcerers.”

 

“How powerful?”

 

“More powerful than anything you’ve come across.” Deaton answers.

 

“Wow, way to oversell dude.” Stiles glares, he did not want this becoming common knowledge, and now that it is they’re all staring at him as if he’s going to start fucking glowing or something. Which, to be fair he can do, but not without reason! Son of a...okay calm thoughts...calm thoughts… This is fine, it was not what he wanted but it was going to come out eventually. As long as he keeps the shows of power to a minimum he can probably avoid weirding everyone out and/or scaring them to the point they refused to be around him any more. “It’s a Sprite.”

 

“What?” Scott is definitely lost at the point.

 

“You’ve been out there?” Derek growls, “by yourself?”

 

“Uh did you miss the part where I’m a powerful magical being?”

 

“Stiles…”

 

“Did you talk with it?” Deaton intervenes.

 

“Yeah, it wasn’t that hard to track down. She’s after territory. She settled here recently and doesn’t seem to keen on acknowledging the pack’s claim.”

 

“So what are we going to do?” Scott asked.

 

“Well I told her in no uncertain terms to get the fuck out, the rest is up to her. She did attack me with some kind of staff though, so I’m not sure how seriously she took my threat.” He shrugs.

 

“Were you planning on mentioning this at any point?” Scott asks, and man it is really not fair that he seems to have developed a nose for Stiles’ bull shit while he was away.

 

“I figured I could handle it.” Stiles says, letting his tongue play with the ring that runs through the side of his bottom lip.

 

“We’re a pack, dude. We’re supposed to help each other.”

 

Stiles can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in him, “Pack? Please, I am not in your pack.”

 

Scott looks confused, “what are you talking about? Of course you are.”

 

“Uh, no I’m not.” Derek growls, and Stiles turns just in time to see the flash of red fade from his eyes, “What?”

 

“You are not actually that dense.” Scott says, and he really hates feeling slow but Stiles is totally and completely lost.

 

“What?”

 

“Stiles, you were pack before I even was.” Scott smirks.

 

Stiles is silent, and for him that’s sort of a big deal, because he doesn’t understand this. Not at all. If he was…”No, you know what? No.” Stiles says walking out of the exam room. This is not something he’s prepared to deal with right now. It’s too little too late and he is so...so angry that he almost doesn’t hear Scott calling after him as he makes his way to the front door. He’s stopped when Scott reaches out a hand to his shoulder and turns him around before he can reach for the handle.

 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, and the fact that Stiles would even have to explain what is so wrong about this situation only serves to make him angrier.

 

“We are not talking about this right now” Stiles snaps, “not now and possibly not ever, okay?”

 

“wha-”

 

“Not. Now.” Stiles walks out of the vet, letting the cooler air sooth the heated planes of his face while Scott and Derek finish whatever conversation they’re having inside.

 

The door opens behind him a few minutes later and Scott and Derek are both silent as they all get back into the car. Derek drops Scott off first, Stiles notices when he opens his mouth to say something to Stiles but breathes out heavily instead letting it go and getting out of the car without a word. Stiles is resolutely not feeling guilty in the backseat.

 

Derek drives on towards Stiles’ house but at the last minute takes a left turn instead of a right and continues on towards the woods.

 

“Uh where are we going?”

 

“We need to talk”

 

“And we can’t do that in a populated area because...?”

 

Derek predictably doesn’t answer, Stiles would like to say he’s surprised but that would make him a dirty liar, so he leans back into the leather seat and awaits the inevitable alpha posturing that is sure to come.

 

They stop in front of the Hale House, and Stiles finds himself rushing out of the car to get a better look. He almost forgot that it was rebuilt, no longer ash and falling beams. The outside is painted a cool grey and the shutters are a dark purple just noticeable under the lights that span the wrap around porch. It’s two stories tall, maybe not quite as big as the original structure but it looks solid and well taken care of. ‘God, I really did miss a lot didn’t I?’ he thinks.

 

Stiles rubs his chest absently feeling the bruise forming where the sprite hit him earlier and wishing not for the first time he had the power to heal quickly like the wolves. And speaking of wolves… Stiles stumbles a little when Derek rounds the car and storms towards him.

 

“Uh wha-” Stiles trips back over a lacrosse stick laying in the yard, no doubt left by the pack earlier in the day. “If you’re going to try to kill me you should probably know that I have a lot better defense than I used to.”

 

“I’m not going to kill you, you idiot.” He growls, “we need to talk.”

 

“So you said but so far I’m just seeing a lot of stalking threateningly in my direction.”

 

“Get up” Derek says, reaching out to him, and Stiles has to wonder if it’s some kind of trick, but he’s pretty sure Isaac is inside and would at least attempt to help him if Derek attacked. He stands quickly, pulled up by Derek’s powerful muscles that Stiles is definitely not thinking about right now.

 

“So talk.” he says, swiping dried leaves from the back of his jeans.

 

“You-” the alpha sighs, “you don’t think you’re pack.”

 

“Uh, no. I think we’ve established that a couple of times now.”

 

“Why?”

 

Stiles is struck dumb, literally he cannot think of a single answer to that, because there are so many freaking answers to that. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“No.” he growls, “you are pack. You’ve always been pack.”

 

“Listen, I don’t know if you’re doing this because you just found out I have powerful magic or something and are afraid that I’m going to lash out because I feel left out or- or if you’re just really that big of an asshole, but either way, how about we not do this.” he says turning back towards the camaro. He makes it two steps before he’s shoved forward and turned around so that his back is against the side of car and Derek is looming over him. “What are you doing?” Stiles pushes on the alpha’s chest.

 

“You need to talk to me.”

 

“I need to what?” he laughs, “since when are you my shoulder to cry on? Fuck. Off.” He pushes again, only to have Derek plant his feet more firmly.

 

“Stiles…”

 

“No!” he struggles, he doesn’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter.

 

“Stop” Derek’s hand comes up, pressing lightly between his shoulderblades and Stiles stills. “You are pack.”

 

“Stop it” Stiles croaks, his throat tight. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need Derek’s pack, he doesn’t deserve his pack, he’s a murderer, he doesn’t… Derek steps forward letting his stubbled cheek run along Stiles’ cheekbone.”No” Stiles can’t accept it, he doesn’t want to. He was hurt and they left him and he did things that meant he deserved it. He’s not good for them, he’s dangerous and more trouble than he’s worth even with his new sense of control. He can’t…

 

“You’re pack.” Derek rumbles, bringing his face back to look Stiles in the eye.

 

“Don’t say that.” Stiles jerks, feeling the area behind his eyes start to prickle, “You don’t want…”

 

“Want doesn’t have anything to do with it” Derek says, “You’re pack, we all feel it. We’ve always felt it. You just need to accept it.”

 

“God, since when do you talk this much?” Stiles sniffs, holding back his tears, manly manly tears. Derek doesn’t answer but doesn’t pull away either. “Listen I appreciate the thought big guy. I do, it means something that you want me to be part of all this…” he motions with his hands including Derek and the house and the pack in general, “but I just, I don’t know if I’m ready.” Derek does move back then, a hurt look flashing across his face before it’s hidden behind the oh so familiar look of disinterested annoyance. “No, hey” Stiles reaches out, “don’t go all stoic on me now.”

 

“You don’t want us.”

 

“That’s not it.” Stiles sighs, “I want you, I mean the pack, I want the pack, but you have to see things from my perspective.” Derek is quiet so Stiles takes a deep breath preparing to plow ahead, “I woke up in the woods a year and a half ago, alone.” Derek flinches and Stiles tries not to be glad that it at least elicits some emotion. “there were bodies on the ground and I put them there, I did that.”

 

“They were-”

 

“It doesn’t matter.I lost control and I put them down without a second thought.” he swallows, “I’m dangerous.”

 

“You would never hurt us.”

 

“You can’t know that.”

 

“Yes I can.”

 

“Then why did you keep everyone away from me? Why did you leave me alone to deal with it? I woke up alone Derek and no one came for me.”

 

Derek sighs, “You were out of control, I couldn’t risk it.” Stiles nods, it’s what he has always thought. They were afraid of him. “Don’t.” Derek growls as if sensing Stiles’ thoughts. “It’s not like that, you would have never forgiven yourself if you hurt someone else. Especially the pack and we were the reason you…” Derek ran a hand through his hair and Stiles waited for him to continue.“If it wasn’t for us you would have never been in that position in the first place. You would never have had those people hurting you if we had listened to you.”

 

He’s not sure who initiates the kiss, it’s probably him because for a moment Derek is still and Stiles starts to panic but suddenly Derek groans and presses forward, his hands coming up to clutch at Stiles’ hips. The kiss is sweet but thorough, tongues sliding softly against each other and Stiles’ hands in Derek’s hair. It doesn’t last long but it leaves them both a little breathless.

 

“When did you get so stubborn?” Stiles sighs, resting his forehead against Derek’s.

 

“Probably about the same time you decided to take up my old martyr complex.”

 

“Ah role reversal…” Stiles contemplates, “that time honored literary device.”

 

“Stiles...”

 

“I’m still not saying yes.”

 

“Okay.” Derek smirks, and that’s how they leave it.

 

It’s not until two days after the encounter with the sprite that Stiles starts to worry that her staff may have been a little more powerful than your average piece of wood. He’s fresh out of the shower and looking forward to a morning full of poptarts and Skyrim when he notices that the bruise from her strike has spread. The day before it had been deep purple but small, almost a perfect circle in the center of his sternum. Now it’s decidedly less contained and a mean dark black with grey flecking at the edges. Like some had taken soot and ash and smeared it over his upper chest. He wipes at it with his hand, the skin is smooth and abnormally cold. It’s a curse and a powerful one.

 

Stiles calls Scott immediately, he tells him that he needs to find the sprite, asks if he’s still been smelling her around the woods. Scott says yes and Stiles hangs up on him before he can finish his sentence. He throws on the first jeans and t-shirt he finds, slipping on his glasses and a hoodie to combat the cool California Fall, before running out to his Jeep. There are only two ways to undo a curse like this; either the caster can voluntarily remove it or they have to die. However, with a sprite, especially one vindictive enough to curse a Magi, Stiles doesn’t think the first option is going to be very likely.

 

When he gets to the preserve he’s not at all surprised to see Derek standing by the turn in. Stiles slows down a bit, reaching out with his magic to throw the passenger door open and Derek jumps in as he passes.

 

“Scott called, what’s wrong?” Derek says, settling himself in the seat as the Jeep plunges onward down the dirt track.

 

“I need to find the sprite.”

 

“Yes, I got that much from McCall, why is it so urgent?”

 

Stiles thinks about telling Derek the truth for about two minutes before deciding that Derek would do something stupid like try to fight the sprite himself if he knew he was injured. So he does what he does best, bullshit. “It’s been two days since I delivered my ultimatum, if she doesn’t answer it today then tradition says I can evict her forcibly.” Derek just nods and hold on to the door frame as Stiles drives faster.

 

When he finally stops the car he’s winded and he’s pretty sure he’s sweating beneath his hoodie, but he hops out anyway hoping Derek doesn’t notice his body’s extra stress. The magic is still strong, in fact it seems like the sprite has been inching her way closer towards the house, which Stiles takes as the threat it’s clearly meant as.

 

It’s early morning, dew still sticking to the grass and wetting the canvas of his chucks as Stiles and Derek make their way into the woods. “What are you going to do if she doesn’t want to leave?”

 

“Persuade her.” Stiles shrugs with a smirk. Derek rolls his eyes but stays at his side. They walk for about a mile before Stiles suddenly stops. His chest is throbbing and he can only assume that means she’s close. “Are you okay?” Derek asks and Stiles gives him a false smile that he seems to see through but doesn’t call him on, “No worries big bad, she’s close is all.”

 

“Yeah I can smell that” Derek says, eyes looking away from Stiles to scan the area. The sprite steps out from behind a tree ahead of them. She’s smiling a look of absolute delight on her face. She’s beautiful as ever in the diluted light of the forest but the look on her face is setting Stiles on edge. She starts making her way towards them slowly, as if she has all the time in the world, and if her curse is as strong as Stiles thinks it is it might not be overconfidence to assume she does.

 

“If it isn’t the magi, come back to play some more?”

 

“I thought I had made myself clear about the territory.” Stiles says sounding confident, if not feeling so.

 

“You did.”  She nods, stopping a few feet away.

 

“And you may notice that you are still here.  It’s a problem.”

 

“You claim this land for a pack of dogs, they have no claim over nature, I will not bow to them.” she sneers,

 

“Maybe not” he agrees, “but I was born here and have lived here all my life. That gives me equal rights to the area, so you. need. to. leave.”

 

The sprite jerks, starting towards him but Stiles draws on his magic, pulling it from within himself and gathering it in his palm. She stills instantly. It doesn’t feel like it normally does though, like stretching a muscle that hasn’t moved in too long. Instead it burns like the magic is sizzling in his chest and beginning to run through his veins. He winces and tries to hold back a moan. He’s not sure if he’s successful.

 

“Oh what is wrong with you Magi? Are you not feeling well?” her smile widens as she practically purrs. Derek for his part only spares him a worried glance before turning back to the threat. “Who is this then?” the Sprite asks turning her attention towards Derek, ignoring Stiles completely. She saunters up  slowly, the wind blowing her hair back from her naked chest. God, Stiles wishes he could magic some clothes on this woman if only so he wouldn’t have to see Derek blush and avert his gaze. “Big strong Alpha Wolf, is it you who wishes me gone?” she slides a palm up his chest resting it on his shoulder “Are you sure? I could serve you so much better than this little whelp.”

 

“Wow, so subtlety not really your strong suit.” Stiles breathes, watching as Derek’s canine’s grow and he steps away from her, “Good to know.”

 

“You don’t have much time Magi.” She smiles, not bothered by Derek’s rejection.

 

“What is she talking about?”

 

“I have enough strength left to vanquish you and you know it.”

 

“Not much incentive to stay around then is it?” She smirks and once again disappears.

 

The forest is silent for a moment, “son of a bitch!” Stiles cannot believe he just let this happen again.

 


So this is going to be a problem Stiles decides when by the time he pulls up to school three days later he’s unable to move enough to exit the vehicle. He’s parked crooked across two spaces near the front door and half hanging out of the car when Scott is suddenly standing in front of him. “Stiles?”

 

“Hey buddy” Stiles smirks, breathing heavily as he looks for the strength to either continue to the ground or pull himself back into the seat. He’s saved by Scott reaching out and carefully  pushing him back up.

 

“What happened?” he asks, looking for an injury he won’t be able to see.

 

“You know that sprite I told you about?”

 

“Yeah”

 

“Maybe a bit more skilled that I gave her credit for.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“Curse” he wheezes and the whites of Scott’s eyes flare as he reaches out a hand to Stiles’ clammy forehead.“Stiles you are burning up. How did you even drive here?”

 

“Was fine when I left, okay well not fine, but okay,burning didn’t start until I got to the parking lot.”

 

“We need to get you to Deaton” Scott says, nodding once in what seems to be him agreeing with his own thoughts. Stiles doesn’t argue. He’d hoped to be able to take care of this himself, he’d been close to tracking her down, he knows it. He’d been up the last two nights researching everything he could about sprites, even calling in a few favors from his old headmistress Helena. He has the incantation ready and had just needed one last ingredient to complete the summoning and take the sprite down. However, the fact that Scott is currently having to lift him and place him in the passenger seat of his own Jeep might be a signal that he needs to call in some reinforcements.

 

Scott drives carefully and only grinds the gears a few times which Stiles appreciates. His baby is delicate, okay. Deaton is already waiting for them when Scott drags Stiles inside with a arm over his shoulder and another around his waist.

 

“Stiles, nice to see you.”

 

“Blow me.”

 

They follow him into an exam room where surprise! a large unhappy alpha is currently standing. “Oh good more witnesses to my incompetence.” Stiles moans. They sit him down on the table, Scott keeping a hand on his back to keep him up right.

 

“Curse?” Deaton asks.

 

“Yep.”

 

“where is it centralized?” Stiles flaps his hand over his chest weakly because seriously talking is exhausting. Deaton carefully pulls up his T-shirt, one of Stiles’ favorites featuring a bear with a gold chain and a honey pot surrounded by the words ‘Mo’ Honey, Mo’ Problems, to reveal his black chest. The infection has spread significantly over the last couple days, almost covering his chest and torso completely.

 

“Stiles” Derek scolds, why didn’t you say something remains unsaid but Stiles is pretty sure that’s just because he isn’t really up for answering questions right now. It doesn’t stop him from stepping forward and taking Scott’s place at his side though.

 

“Do you know what this is?” Deaton asks, Stiles nods. Of course he does, he spent the last year and half abroad so that he could know. Curses are pretty much chapter one when it comes to magical learning. “We need to find the sprite” Deaton tells the wolves.

 

“How?” Derek asks, “last time she was kind of hard to pin down.”

 

“There’s probably a summoning spell we can use.”

 

“Probably? He looks like he’s going to keel over!”

 

“Right…here…”Stiles wheezes.

 

“We need something faster, we don’t know how long this has been infecting him.”

 

“What is it even?” Scott asks.

 

“It’s a curse, the sprite is pulling magic from him, to make him weaker.” Deaton explains, “normally this would just render a magic user powerless, human more or less. But Stiles is a Magi, for all intents and purposes he is magic. It’s pulling his life force along with it. It will kill him slowly and painfully if we don’t reverse it.”

 

“Well what are we waiting for then?” Derek growls, “find the summoning spell.”

 

“In-” Stiles takes a deep breath, god it hurts, “my backpack” he points.

 

“Then what are we going to do?” Scott asks as Deaton starts sifting through the bag, “if Stiles couldn’t get rid of her then what are we...shit!” Scott helps Derek catch Stiles as he pitches forward. Stiles’ body seems to be giving up on him and son of a bitch this is not how he pictured his life after he’d returned from London. Playing the victim again despite being the most powerful magical user in the country. It’s fucking unfair. He wanted to hold his own, to show the pack what he could do, not have to rely on them to save him. But as his vision starts to cloud over Stiles has to admit that life has never really been all that fair when it comes to him.


When he wakes again it’s sudden, he jackknifes off the table he’s still laying on and is immediately aware of the pack surrounding him just outside the door. He can feel their energy and even if he couldn’t it would be hard to miss the growling and screaming. There’s a loud bang and a crack of wood as someone flies through the wall, landing on their back at Stiles’ feet. It’s Issac and he’s out cold.

 

Stiles is running before he even comprehends that his strength and power seems to have returned full force and when he exits the exam room he can see why. The sprite is standing barefoot on the linoleum, dripping purple blood from her side where one of the wolves has dug their claws in. No doubt she’s had to revert her power from maintaining the curse to healing herself. There’s a series of celtic knots drawn on the floor, no doubt they were used to summon her and she’s panting, crouched to strike at the remaining pack members should they approach but she stills when Stiles steps into view.

 

Beside him Scott is looking relieved to see him and Erica and Jackson are smiling if looking a little worse for wear. He can see Boyd across the room standing in front of the door with an axe that he looks to have gotten from the fire safety box beside him. That just leaves Derek, who is lying unconscious at the sprite’s feet, a black ash ridden wound crawling up his neck and over his jawline.

 

That. is. it.

 

“You could have made this easier.” Stiles says, his voice is quiet but the room has stilled enough for it to echo, “You could have just left when I asked you, found a new home.” his power is growing and he can feel his skin starting to stretch with it, “but you just had to be difficult.” Golden tendrils are flowing out of him slowly now caressing along his forearms and fingers and readying for a strike. His skin is glowing, a soft light filling him up and making his eyes blaze with the absolute fury he feels at her audacity to hurt his pack.

 

Around him the betas wine and take a step back, eyes wide as his power whips out, catching on to the Sprite’s wrist. Her shriek is immediate and deafening causing anything glass to shatter in its pane. The pack  flinching back covers their  ears as the sprite shudders, hot golden lines of magic running over her skin. She moves quickly, her arms wrapping around the threads of magic and attempting to pull more energy from him. It hurts again, and Stiles know he can’t afford to lose any more of his magic to her, can’t allow her to heal. He rushes her, hoping to take her by surprise but once he steps into the circle she’s smiles sharp and biting before the room begins to spin. He’s off balance and the world around him is a mess of light and sound but he’s unable to pinpoint where any of it is coming from until he’s knocked to the side and he lands, rolling across the mossy ground of the preserve.

 

Stiles has only a moment to take stock of the fact that she must have transported them away from the others, no doubt feeling a little overwhelmed surrounded by the pack and Stiles. He climbs to his feet just in time to dodge her staff as it digs into the soft ground where his head had been. he kicks out, dislodging her from her stance and sending her back a few feet as he gets his bearings. She’s on him again with in moments, lashing out with the rest of her power, emanating from her in a shimmering white mist that clouds his vision and leaves him open to attack as she spears him in the side with elongated fingers, sharp like talons and biting into his flesh. He jerks back, trying to ignore the stinging pain as he calls his magic forward, sending a flash of light from his hand towards her, just missing in the thick mist but illuminating the space enough to guide his next volley which lands squarely on her jaw, knocking her back to the ground several feet away.

 

“Yield!” Stiles shouts, but the sprite only smiles and climbs back to her feet eyeing where Stiles is holding a hand to his side to staunch the blood flow from her earlier attack.

 

“Perhaps it is you who should yield Magi,” she hisses as she twirls her staff in her hands. “A Magi’s head will be such a valuable trophy” she smiles, crouching into a defensive stance, her staff poised at her side.

 

“Fine” Stiles is through playing around, if she really wants an all out fight to death match Stiles will give it to her. He breathes deep, centering himself and calling on the stones, trees and hollows of the preserve to tether him to this place. He has a tendency to get lost in powerful magics, and what he needs to defeat a sprite, one of the oldest of magical creatures, will be a lot more than he handles on a regular basis. So he breathes, once, twice, three times and then he’s ready. He opens his eyes and sees the world through a golden haze as his body adjusts to the sheer amount of power he’s letting loose. They bound forward that the same time, the sprite wielding her weapon and Stiles emitting pure untamed magic. She hits first, swift and clean against his neck, diverting his path, but he grabs her by the wrist taking her to the ground with him. She lashes out carelessly, using her talons as her staff clatters to the ground out of her reach. Her rapid movements leave her body open, her torso lunging against his until he reaches out his hand and clutches the skin of her hip. It’s almost too easy after that.

 

It should scare him more than it does as she begins to writhe in agony on the the ground as he pins her beneath him but at the moment he doesn’t care. This woman tried to kill him and then she went after the pack, his pack, his pack and Derek. He lets his magic invade her body burning through her blood, the flames lighting her up from the inside as her skin crackles and peels. She’d had her chance too many of them and now she had to pay. She touched what was his, she threatened the people he loves and he’s done trying to negotiate.

 

She’s sputtering on the ground, skin blistering with the heat and Stiles can’t take his eyes off the site. He’s killing her he realizes she can heal for now with her magic but in moments she’ll be dead, too overcome by his power and rage. And suddenly this is all too familiar. His breath hitches in his chest, coming in short uneven pants as he remembers the last time he’d killed someone in this forest.


It had been dark when Stiles had escaped from where they had been keeping him. His bare feet  skidding on the cold uneven ground as he picked his way forward from the open cellar door. His body is shaking from the exertion of simply climbing the stairs on the way out, not doubt dehydrated and half starved from his time spent there. He turns around slowly when he makes his way into the treeline and almost throws up when he realizes he’s been in the basement of the Hale house this whole time. Captive and tortured on their own territory. He tries not think about what it means the that pack had not found him here of all places. Where they looking for him at all? Stiles wasn’t sure how long it had been since the hunters had taken him but he was sure it had been at least a couple of days.

 

He turns quickly, making his way at a slow and limping pace deeper into the woods, trying to follow the vague path towards the main road into town. He knows they won’t be far behind him, it was a lucky break that he was able to slip out of the manacles to begin with. Literally a lucky break, the hunters didn’t seem to have realized that they’d broken his wrist the last time they’d taken him off the rack to “interrogate”. The difference between the swelling and where the broken bone actually lied was just enough for him to slip the magic proof hold of the cuffs and make his way out.

 

He’s not walking for long before he can hear them behind him, and tears rush to his eyes immediately. He’s not close enough to town to call out and hope one for the wolves might hear him and he can’t risk giving away his position if they’re not in the woods. His gait is uneven, his left kneecap is dislocated and throbbing along with his wrist as he makes his way further into the woods trying to find a balance of speed and silence to evade his kidnappers.

 

One stumble is all it takes for them to find him. He trips over his own feet letting out a muted groan as he braces himself with his broken wrist and rolls onto his back as agony races up his arm and into his chest.

 

“Nice try kid” Stiles sighs from his position on his back as the female of the hunting duo makes her way into his field of vision. “Sorry Bambi, looks like escape is not an option for you.”

 

“Well,” Stiles wheezes, “can’t...blame a guy...for trying.”

 

“You just don’t get it do you?” She asks as she lowers the heel of her heavy military boot down gently onto Stiles’ broken wrist. “Your loyalty is pointless. Look where we kept you. We might as well have ridden up to your filthy Alpha’s front door and strung you up in front of him for all he’s cared to find you.”

 

“Shut up”

 

“What are you protecting? Some pack that wouldn’t believe you when you warned them about us? A pack that hasn’t even come for you?” she sighs as her partner makes his way to her side. “We’re going to kill you, you know?” Stiles’ heart lurches, of course he knew. It was pretty obvious with the whole kidnap and torture routine what the end game was, but to hear it so bluntly still terrifies him. “They’ll find your body in the woods here, maybe tomorrow, maybe days from now. But you know what?” she leans down, her mouth close to his ear. “They won’t care. You’ll just be another body those beasts have to dig a grave for. I mean how many bodies are already buried in these woods?” She asks and Stiles hates that the answer is too many. Way too many. “They’re beasts, they protect themselves, and maybe they even saved you once or twice when it was convenient, when you could do something for them in return. But now…well I think your predicament speaks for itself.”

 

“Y-your wrong” Stiles screams as the woman grinds her heel into this injured wrist. There are tears coming from his eyes, obscuring his vision, and he wishes he had the energy to man up, to not die crying. But the days at their hands have been a long series of fever dreams and pain and part of him starts to welcome death. At least he won’t be in pain, at least he won’t be alone anymore. Alone. God he’s so alone right now and he shouldn’t be, his pack should be here. Scott should be here. What will his best friend tell his father when Stiles ends up dead? Will he come clean about the werewolf stuff or will he let his dad assume...assume what he’s not sure, but god his dad. His dad is going to be left alone, and it’s not right. It’s not fair that his father should have to lose everyone he cares about.

 

Stiles can feel the anger rising in his veins and he clings to is like a drowning man, letting it pull him out of the overwhelming waves of pain and hopelessness. He’s not chained anymore and that means with the anger comes the spark. He needs the anger to access it now, belief won’t do enough for him anymore. Not if he want’s to make it through this alive.

 

“Poor pack human” the woman teases, “so disposable. You’re strong I’ll give you that. I’ve known some wolves that have cracked under less than what we’ve dealt you.Too bad you’ve chosen the dark side.”

 

“Believe me” Stiles breathed, “You are so not the Jedis in this scenario.” The power is building, he can feel it climbing out from the inside, warming his core and taking his pain. It’s sudden when it starts to feel overwhelming like his magic no longer belongs to him. He goes from hopeful to terrified as the energy pounds inside him willing him to release it to let these people who’ve hurt him know how it feels to be powerless. He’s not in control anymore. he tries to reign the power back but it slips through his fingers without hesitation and the next thing he knows the forest is awash of bright white light and people are screaming.

 

When he wakes up all of the trees surrounding him are dead and the hunters are piles of ash at his feet. A fireman carries him from the scene when the truck arrives and he doesn’t see his pack again for nearly two years.


Now is different though, he has control of his magic, he can pull back if he wants, and he knows he should. He knows in his gut that if he lets the sprite go now she will leave and never come back after seeing how strong the pack is that is willing to defend him and the strength of his own powers. The only problem is that he’s scared. What if he’s wrong? He’s been wrong before, if he trusts that she will go and she doesn’t... suddenly Derek is there. In the forest, no longer back on the floor in Deaton’s office, but in front of him, staring into his eyes with a raw sense of understanding that almost breaks him. “You can let go now” he says.

 

Stiles looks up from the sprite arching on the ground, her insides melting as her cries echo through the dark woods. Derek is crouched down in front of him, reaching out with a strong hand and looking for all the world like he’s not afraid, like he’s just waiting for Stiles to see him and understand that he has a choice. Stiles stops immediately, disgusted with himself. His magic dropping and disappearing back into his core. He feels jittery and sore and desperately in need of centering but he does it, he lets his magic retreat.

 

Derek reaches out and gathers him to his chest, as Stiles collapses into him. Beside them the sprite relaxes, healing herself with what is left of her natural power. She’s only there a moment, color returning to her skin and comprehension to her eyes before she disappears and the forest is relatively silent. Around them the pack stands motionless and Stiles is pretty sure he’s ruined that whole  ‘try not to freak them out’ plan of his.

 

“-iles?” Derek’s voice cuts through the fog of Stiles’ mind, god he’s really tired, “where are you injured?”

 

“Wha?” He slurs.

 

“You…” Derek tries to adjust him in his lap but Stiles groans as the move puts pressure on the gash in his side calling his earlier injury back into focus.

 

“Ah shit” he murmurs as his vision starts to swim, the injury is deep and now that the adrenaline is leaving his veins he remembers how she pushed her talons into his skin only to draw them out forcefully. He’s been bleeding all this time…

 

“Let me see” Derek says, gently bringing Stiles’ chest against his own so he can reach his far side and see the injury. “You’re going to need stitches” he sighs.

 

“S’okay” Stiles yawns as he buries his face deeper into Derek’s chest.

 

“Stiles, you need to stay awake”

 

“Okay” Stiles nods before he slides further into the Alpha’s embrace and closes his eyes.

 


The pack is closer after the battle with the sprite, Stiles accepting his place in it as well...not a beta exactly, but something definitely something. Stiles smiles secretly as he makes his way into the Hale house to begin the last pack meeting before Lydia heads off to MIT. Stiles and the others still have a couple more weeks before they have to start packing for college, but Lydia wants to get settled in and has a couple classes she elected to take over the summer.

 

Stiles’ Doc Martens skid across the wood of the entry hall as he slides in the door. The pack is already milling about, Jackson and Lydia sitting in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace while Isaac seems to be waiting to pounce on Boyd’s back from the stop of the staircase until Derek enters from the kitchen and puts a stop to it. Allison and Scott follow behind him with a batch of cookies and everyone takes a seat around the living room and digs in because Allison makes that shit from scratch.

 

They talk a lot about how they’re all going to handle the separation as they all head off to separate colleges, all except Erica and Boyd who have chosen to stick close to home and attend Beacon Hills’ finest community college. All in all it seems doable, weekly Skype chats with Derek to check in, plenty of emails and texts back and forward between the rest of them. They’re a pack and they’ll stick together even if they have to do it from other parts of the country. Its nice to know that they all want that, that none of them are looking at college as a way out.

 

After the meeting they all stick around, no one in a hurry to leave. Boyd and Isaac start up the PS4 and pop in the latest first person shooter, duking it out pretty evenly until Erica steps in and whips both their asses. The woman has a gift. Scott is reading over the requirements for the veterinary college he’s attending in Washington to be near Allison again. He keeps convincing himself that he’s forgotten something, like if he doesn’t do everything perfectly the school is going to call him back and say that they changed their mind about his scholarship. A scholarship which Scott seems to have gotten thanks to Deaton, so Stiles might have to thank the guy on his best friend’s behalf sometime soon. Should be easy enough seeing as Stiles is planning to stick around Beacon Hills as well. Not that any of the pack know that yet.

 

When he’d told the pack that Helena had asked him to come back to England and apprentice under her directly they’d all assumed that meant he’d be moving back to London. Not that it was a far reach, they weren’t really in the know about the ease of magical travel between countries. He’d not been allowed to install a gateway before, but now that he’d graduated and accepted a position with the most prestigious magical learning institution in the world he would be able to live in California and commute to London during work and study hours.

 

Stiles’ eyes turned from where he was smirking at Scott as Derek made his way out of the library with Jackson debating the best route to take to Massachusetts. He was carrying a map and pointing to a certain route since Jackson straight up refused to leave his porsche behind while away at school, much to Lydia’s chagrin. Stiles could not imagine a 40 plus hour car ride with those two. Jackson would be lucky if he arrived in one piece. Thank the powers that be for werewolf healing.

 

Derek rolled his eyes at something, no doubt Jackson’s insistence to only stop for the night at a five star or more hotels, before catching Stiles’ gaze. Stiles blushed turning away quickly and adjusting his glasses to sit further up his nose as he continued pouring over the book Helena had sent him last week. The portal seemed pretty simple to set up, a few runes here and an enchantment there and a key to unlock it all. Stiles could pull this off in his sleep. He’d test it out in the next day or so as soon as things settled down with the pack and he could find an appropriate out of the way place where people wouldn’t notice Stiles disappearing through a mystical gateway Monday through Friday.

 

Stiles sighed quietly as Derek and Jackson walked behind the chair he was sitting in and Derek let a hand trail across his shoulders subtly. At least it was subtle until Stiles made that embarrassing lovestruck schoolgirl noise and the pack all gave him sideways smirks from where they were seated. He glared back at them all and returned to his book.

 

There had been a lot of that lately, subtle touching, and Stiles was about 90% sure it was not just because he was officially part of the pack now. It seemed to be too frequent and often accompanied by a light red stain running across Derek’s upper cheek. Plus Scott kept giving him these confused yet pleased looks whenever Stiles found himself standing near the alpha.

Of course that could just be the scent of arousal Stiles was pretty sure he was letting off whenever Derek invaded his space. They still hadn’t talked about the kiss, the you're an idiot but I want you in my pack anyway kiss that had happened before the whole almost dying fiasco. Though there were some heavy lingering looks, and the aforementioned touching.

 

“You know he’s scent marking you right?” Scott asked, coming to sit on the arm of the chair Stiles was sitting in.

 

“What?” Stiles sat the book aside to look up at his best friend.

 

“When Derek does that, he’s scent marking, making you smell like him.”

 

“Oh” Stiles felt a warm contented feeling rush through his body, because he was definitely okay with that. Maybe a little bit more than okay and looking at Scott’s face his best friend knew it.

 

“Just…”Scott scooted closer, trying to make their conversation as private as possible in a house full of werewolves. “Just be careful, man. If you’re just going to leave him again, don’t...lead him on.”

 

“No worries dude, I don’t intend to” he slapped Scott on the shoulder before making his way over to the bookcase to replace the book he’d been purusing. “I gotta get home for dinner before the old man decides to ground me for whatever remaining time he holds that power over me, see you kids later.” He says as he grabs his bag and bounces down the front steps towards his jeep.

 

He’s halfway across the yard when  Derek’s voice stops him. “You know I rebuilt the house for you.” Stiles freezes, turning slowly back towards the house where Derek is standing at the foot of the steps.

 

“Uhh wha- what?”

 

“The house” he says, motioning casually towards the rebuilt Hale house as he makes his way towards Stiles, “I rebuilt it for you, well it was inspired by you at least. So no one could use it against us again, no one else could be hurt here without us knowing.” Stiles is stunned for lack of a better word, because that’s big, rebuilding the Hale house with all it’s painful history because of what happened to him, and Derek admitting it? Well that’s- there are no words. “I didn’t want you to come back to things how they were.”

 

“How did you know I would come back?” Stiles asks because he has no fucking filter. Derek just sighs his patented ‘Stiles Stilinski was put on this earth to test me’ sigh. before reaching up and cupping his cheek in his palm.

 

“I guess I just had faith.”

 

“Okay, who are you and wha-” Derek’s lips are against his and as methods for shutting him up go this is by far the best one Stiles has experienced thus far. He grabs the back of Derek’s neck bringing his face further into alignment with his own and Derek’s arms come up caging Stiles in against his chest, pulling him in tight until they’re chest to chest. Stiles is pretty sure he lets out another one of those embarrassing sighs only this time he feels it’s entirely warranted and if the pack wants to make fun of him for it later is he perfectly okay with that, just as long as Derek does not stop licking as his bottom lip and nibbling on his lip ring. God the guy is pressing all his buttons already. They part slowly, looking eachother over but making no effort to untangle their limbs.

 

“Hi” Stiles sighs and Derek just laughs, a low rumble in his chest that vibrates against his own.

 

“Hey”

 


It takes more time than Stiles thought it would and less time than it probably should for Derek and him to fall into bed together, but by the third date, this one consisting of a movie and a walk down mainstreet with hot cocoa in hand, Stiles can’t take it any more and promptly shoves Derek up against his own front door when they make their way back to his place. It seems like Derek is on the same page because before he knows it Stiles is the one against the door and Derek is reaching under his thighs to wrap Stiles’ long legs around his waist while his tongue is tracing patterns against his own.

 

Stiles breathes deep before diving back in, rolling the cold metal of his lip ring against Derek’s plump bottom lip. Derek moans grinding up into Stiles and that’s just...shit Stiles shifts down meeting the pulse of Derek’s hips and sliding his denim covered erection against the hot hard length of him. He wants it in his grip so bad, but he can’t spare a hand from where he’s clutching the muscles of Derek’s shoulders and holding himself up against the door. His nerves are on fire and he’s straining against the fly of his jeans when- “Oh shit!” Stiles stills and Derek instinctively pulls back.

 

“What?” Derek asks, seeing the pain no doubt reflected in Stiles’ face. “What happened?”

 

“I’m caught”

 

“What?” Derek looks confusedly between Stiles and the door. “I thought you liked..”

 

“No not here” he says indicating his position, “it’s...crap just let me..” Stiles untangles himself from Derek’s arms and sets his feet on the ground before not-so-subtly adjusting his hard dick so that his as yet unknown of piercing is no longer being pinched by the unforgiving tongs of his zipper.

 

When he looks back up Derek is staring. “What-” Derek beings and when he understands his eyes flash red, “let me see it.” he says, brooking no argument and oh yeah, that’s going to fuel about ten thousand future wank fantasies. Stiles slowly flicks open the top button of his jeans. He wants to prolong that hungry look in Derek’s eyes as long as possible. He’s just easing the copper zipper down when Derek falls to his knees in front of him and bats his hands away. Stiles has never been so turned on in his life. Derek slides the denim down, riding him of his shoes and socks at the same time and leaving Stiles standing in a pair of threadbare boxer briefs. “Fuck” Derek whispers as his large hand outlines the hard length of stiles through the cotton.

 

“Just-” Stiles starts, “just do it.” That seems to be all the permission Derek needs before slipping the cotton down Stiles’ thighs and letting them pool at his feet. His dick is straining against his stomach, hard and red a silver ring glistening with pre-cum at the tip. Derek licks up the long vein gliding his goddamned perfect lips up his shaft until he’s enveloped in the moist cavern of his mouth. It’s too much and not enough until Derek starts moving, bobbing his head up and down on Stiles’ cock. Stiles is pretty sure he’s mumbling nonsense while trying not to come before Derek’s even built up a rhythm, but it’s like a wet dream come to life, the suction of Derek’s mouth as his tongue slips around the tip of his cock. He can hear the ring running along Derek’s teeth as he works it slowly and then with more speed, building up the pressure. Stiles reaches down, threading a hand into Derek’s hair and the alpha looks up at him and winks, the fucker actually fucking winks at him while he’s on his knees blowing him and fuck!JesusChristonacracker! Stiles is coming and Derek is swallowing him down, deep throating him and he pulses in his mouth. It’s dirty and amazing and Stiles knows with a bone deep surety that no one else will ever be to him what Derek is in that moment, perfect. Derek slides off slowly, making sure to catch any stray drops of cum before letting Stiles’ dick slip from between his lips.

Stiles slides to the floor immediately, his knees finding their way to either side of Derek’s thighs. Derek is smiling but his lips are swollen and Stiles kisses him, tasting himself on the alpha’s tongue. It should be disgusting but somehow knowing it’s Derek and him makes it hot. Like insanely hot, to the point that Stiles is going to be demanding repeat performances in the future. Preferably when he can feel his legs again.

 

“I want to take you to bed” Derek says, tracing a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck. “Can I?”

 

“Yes- fuck, now please.” Stiles sighs, tracing his hands down Derek’s back. He lets out an undignified exclamation as Derek picks him up from the floor and lifts him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “I can walk you know!” Stiles insists as Derek climbs the stairs of the Hale house two at a time, and god Stiles really hopes no one else is home because that would be an awkward morning after breakfast, before darting down the second floor corridor and pushing open the door to the master bedroom. He closes the door behind them before depositing Stiles on the bed, and it takes Stiles a moment to get his bearings.

 

He’s about to call Derk out on his caveman like behavior but Derek’s already stripping out of his shirt and holy mother of abs, yeah they can talk later. The jeans are next, the man having stripped his sock and shoes earlier in the proceedings, followed by Derek’s boxers and then he’s naked. Derek Hale is naked and Stiles’ brain has officially stopped working.

 

Derek is beautiful, and Stiles is not just saying that because he’s about to have sex with him. The man is a work of art. His sculpted abs leading down to a trim waist and up to a pair of rounded shoulders that Stiles just wants to run his hands up and over repeatedly. Stiles lets his eyes be drawn down Derek’s abs, following that treasure trail of hair below his navel and down to his hard cock. It’s long, possibly longer than Stiles’ own and wide and straining up and out. Stiles wants it in him yesterday.

 

“Oh” Stiles sighs, as Derek palms his own erection and starts slowly making his way forward. He leans down, sliding Stiles up the bed before laying his body down on the younger man’s until there is no room between them. Derek kisses him deep and thorough as Stiles slides his hands over his body, tracing the hills and valleys of his torso with fingers that spark gold as Derek sucks on his tongue.

 

Derek is rutting against him and though Stiles came only minutes ago Stiles is already getting hard. He’s done this a couple times, sex that is, but he still somehow feels at a loss. He wants everything at once. He wants suck Derek off like he did for him earlier, wants to fuck him, wants to be fucked by him, he wants to eat him out and make Derek tremble beneath him. But he doesn’t know what Derek is comfortable with. By the way his hands are gripping Stiles’ ass he thinks he can figure something out though.

 

Stiles pushes Derek back and the alpha moves easily, as if it would never occur to him to not give him space when Stiles’ requests it. He’s obviously conscious of his own strength, the power that could easily hurt Stiles but there’s something the alpha obviously hasn’t taken into account. He couldn’t hurt Stiles if he tried. Stiles lets his magic seep out, just a little, drifting along his fingers and reaching out, tucking a pillow against the head of the bed as Stiles pushes Derek’s back against it. He lets the golden tendrils wrap around Derek’s wrists, pinning them against the large fabric tufted headboard keeping them anchored. Derek surges against the restraint once he’s settled but soon finds that the bonds made of Stiles’ magic aren’t going to let him move. “Stiles…”

 

“Shh” he smiles as his magic floats a bottle of lube to him from the open bedside drawer, “trust me.”

 

Derek is quiet for a moment, watching Stiles rub the lube over his fingers, “I do” he says.

 

“Good” Stiles replies, lifting his fingers back to rub around his puckered hole. Derek whines as Stiles slips a finger inside, stretching himself. He works up slowly from one finger to three, taking his time to be sure that he’s prepared for Derek’s girth. By the time he’s ready and crawls over Derek, placing himself with a leg on either side of his lap, the alpha is shaking with the effort it’s taking him to hold back. Stiles smirks as he slowly lowers himself down, taking Derek’s cock inch by gorgeous inch.

 

“Let me out of these things” Derek rumbles as Stiles lifts himself up feeling the delicious drag of skin before seating himself fully once again. Stiles ignores him, setting a slow and steady pace, dragging it out to tease the big bad werewolf. It doesn’t take long for Derek to turn the tables though, suddenly bracing himself on his feet and snapping up into Stiles’ body. Stiles can’t help the yelp of surprise or the moan that’s dragged out of him as Derek hits that spot deep inside of him. It’s Derek’s turn to smirk then as he begins to piston his hips, driving up into Stiles’ traitorous clenching body which wants nothing more than to hand over the reigns to the other man. He’s hitting his prostate over and over again and setting a brutal pace that drives Stiles higher and higher, closer to the tipping point.

 

Stiles’ concentration breaks and suddenly he’s on his back, the magic having dissipated and Derek crouched over him and fucking into him, shaking the bed with each trust. “Oh yes, god” Stiles cries as the alpha covers him, red eyes glowing softly in the dark room and sharpened nails running teasingly down his arched back. Stiles is hard, his cock leaking here it’s trapped between their bodies rubbing up against Derek’s abs with each trust. It’s stimulating but not quite enough, he wants...he needs more. “Please, Derek….” Derek reaches forward seeming to know what Stiles needs without being told, wrapping his large warm palm around him and working him up and down in time with each trust.

 

It only takes moments before Stiles is screaming a stream of syllables that he’s not sure are actually words and coming, white strands arching up onto Derek’s torso, coating his sinful abs. The alpha starts thrusting harder, his hands braced on either side of Stiles’ head as he works his body in and out muttering a string of explatives “shitshitshitdamnitfuck Stiles!” as he climaxes, body going taut as he comes. Stiles can’t help but let out a final moan as Derek coats him inside and lays down on top of him to catch his breath.

 

They lay there for a few minutes, a messy tangled mass of sweaty limbs both exhausted and sated. It’s nice and after a few moments Derek moves, carefully sliding himself out and settling next to Stiles in the bed, wrapping an arm around him from behind and dragging him close until Stiles’ back is to Derek’s chest.  Stiles enjoys the new position, Derek’s strong arms bracketing his smaller body, it feels natural and Stiles is glad Derek seems to be a post orgasm snuggler.

 

It doesn’t take long for Derek’s body to stiffen behind him though. It’s subtle and if it was anyone else Stiles would probably let it go, but he’s made a study of Derek’s body language and right now it’s practically screaming with some pent up emotion.

 

“Derek stop freaking out and just ask me what you want to ask me dude.”

 

“Don’t call me dude after I just…”

 

“Okay okay, Derek.” Stiles turned so that he could look the alpha directly in the eyes, “What’s up? You can ask me anything. I don’t really think there’s anything I wouldn’t tell you at this point.” he smirks, letting his fingers trace up over Derek’s pectorals and rest on his sternum.

 

“It’s just- I know-” Derek stopped, taking a deep breath and looking down at Stiles. “I don’t want to see other people.”

 

“Well that’s good, because I’m kind of the jealous type.”

 

“No, I mean when you go back to school, I know that there will be men who want- and I know I don’t have any right to tell you not to but- what I mean is, I’ll wait for you even if you don’t want...”

 

“Wait wait wait, hold the phone” Stiles interrupts, sitting up so that the covers fall to his lap barely covering his modesty. “A) This” he begins motioning between the two of them “means something. It means something to me so do not assume that I do not want you, because I do, okay? I have wanted you since forever sour-wolf, it was you who needed to catch up.” Derek smiles, a private smile that Stiles has never seen before and warmth spreads through his chest. “B) You have every right to ask me not to fucking cheat on you you thick bastard, don’t you ever think that I want you any less than you want me. In fact, you can go ahead and assume it’s the opposite. And finally, C) I will be studying under Helena in London yes, but I am not moving. I am staying right here with my dad and you. so you better not even think about getting out of this now I-” Derek cuts him off with a kiss, pouncing on him and pushing him back into the bed.

 

“Shut up, Stiles.”

 

THE END.