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You Belong with Me

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- Saturday, November 5th, 2011 -

Derek sits by himself in a booth in a nightclub and nurses a beer that has no hope in hell of giving him a buzz. He doesn't have to be there, but he'd heard his betas talking about coming earlier and thought it would be a good idea to tag along and make sure they don't get into trouble. He watched them for all of fifteen minutes before getting distracted. Apparently, his betas weren't the only ones in the mood to party tonight. Scott eventually showed up too, and with him came Allison, Stiles, Lydia and Jackson. For over an hour now, Derek has silently observed Stiles being ignored by his so-called friends, and he's annoyed on the teenager's behalf.

Scott doesn't deserve to have Stiles in his stupid pack. Hell, he doesn't deserve to be an alpha in the first place.

Why Scott of all people turned out to be a true alpha has always been lost on Derek. In his opinion, the teenager exemplifies none of the characteristics a true alpha should. Scott is selfish, rude, entitled and hotheaded, and he's obviously as blind as a bat if he can't see the treasure he has right in front of him in the form of Stiles Stilinski.

Derek sees it, though. He sees how good and kind and smart Stiles is, how much of an asset he would be to any pack. It took him a while, granted, but Derek is there now, and as he takes a final sip from his beer and sets the empty bottle on the small table in front of him, he decides he can no longer sit idly by while Scott keeps treating Stiles as if he is a waste of time. He has to make Stiles see that it's really the other way around and that there's another alpha in his life who'd be ecstatic to have him in his pack; another alpha who would actually return his loyalty.

Getting up, Derek smooths out the wrinkles in his red henley and scans the club for his pack members. He picks out Erica's blonde curls on the other side of the packed room as she tugs Boyd into the men's toilets and no doubt into a stall. Derek doesn't want to think about what they're about to get up to in there, so he tracks down Isaac instead. After another minute, he locates the tall beta by the bar. He's chatting up some girl that Derek doesn't know, the smile on his face cocky as she eats up whatever he's telling her.

Figuring that his betas are all preoccupied enough, Derek stops worrying about them and refocuses on Stiles.

He's much easier to find. Derek's interest in Stiles has grown so much that he believes he would easily be able to find him even if the club were ten times its current size. Stiles had apparently given up trying to get his friends' attention while Derek was searching for his betas. He's now right in the middle of the floor, making a fool out of himself with his awkward dance moves and flailing limbs. Other people keep a wide berth from him for fear of losing an eye.

As he navigates the sweaty crowd, Derek thinks that it really says something about how much he wants Stiles that he finds his attempts at dancing endearing.

When he reaches the boy, he grabs his arm to get his attention.

Stiles gapes at him and ceases his 'dancing'. "D-Derek? What're you doing here?"

"Come with me," Derek commands.

Without giving Stiles a chance to agree, he drags him off the dance floor and toward the stairs which lead up to the thin metal catwalks above. Only staff are supposed to be up there to perform maintenance on the lights, but Derek doesn't care. The catwalks are all empty and he hasn't seen anyone up there all night, so they should be safe to do what he plans on doing with Stiles. When they are up in the shadows, looking down at all the writhing bodies below, he releases Stiles' arm and faces him.

The teenager glares at him. "Dude, seriously, what the hell? Are you allergic to all words now?"

"No."

"Then tell me why you brought me up here."

Derek was going to cut to the chase anyway, not wanting Stiles to be saddled with Scott any longer than he has to, so he doesn't mind Stiles' bluntness. "I should be your alpha."

Stiles blinks, dumbfounded. "What?"

Derek repeats himself and adds, "Scott isn't good enough for you."

The shock fades quickly, and then Stiles frowns at him. "I don't have time for this."

When the human tries to brush past him and go back downstairs, Derek grabs him again, spins him around to face the railing overlooking the dance floor and crowds in behind him so that he can't make another escape attempt. He wraps his hands around the railing on either side of Stiles and leans in close so that their bodies are an inch away from touching. This close, Stiles' scent blocks out everything else so that he's all Derek can smell. It's the same cinnamon-infused thing that has always got under his skin, but now it's made stronger by something musky—sweat from how aggressively Stiles had just been dancing.

"Just listen to me," Derek says quietly, his mouth right next to Stiles' ear.

"W-what're you doing?" the teenager stammers.

Derek knows that Stiles isn't scared. They've been in enough life-or-death situations since they met that he is unfortunately intimately familiar with the sour tang Stiles' fear creates. No, the stammer was caused by a mixture of uncertainty and embarrassed arousal. Derek can work with that.

"I want you to think about leaving Scott's pack and joining mine instead. I can give you what he can't, what Lydia, Jackson and Allison can't," he murmurs.

"And what's that?"

"To be treated like you actually mean something," Derek responds. He removes his right hand from the railing and rests it over Stiles' flat but soft stomach. "I've been watching you all night," he continues, uncaring of how much it makes him sound like a stalker. "And I've been watching you for a lot longer than that. I've seen the way your 'friends' have been ignoring you, even after all you've done for them. If you were a part of my pack, you'd be much better off."

Stiles scoffs but Derek can still smell his arousal. It's even stronger now and quickly has Derek getting turned on as well.

"How many times has Scott left you to fend for yourself?" Derek points out, moving forward so that their bodies finally touch. From how Stiles' breath hitches, he must feel Derek's burgeoning erection against his ass. "How many times have we saved each other's lives? From Peter and Kate. From Gerard and the kanima. Even when we hated each other, you never treated me like I was worthless, and I've done my best lately to make sure I did the same. Compare that to Scott and the others. Lydia and Jackson have always treated you terribly. Allison nearly killed all of us. And Scott, who is supposed to be your best friend, constantly ditches you to spend time with his little girlfriend instead. He didn't tell you about his plan to take down Gerard and barely even noticed that you were hurt after it was all said and done."

Stiles trembles and turns his head to look at him, which puts their faces inches apart. It would be so easy for Derek to kiss him. "Why're you bringing this all up again?" Stiles asks sadly.

"Because you deserve better."

"And you think you can give me that?"

"I know I can."

"Why? You don't even like me."

Derek grinds his cock against Stiles' ass. "Does it feel like I don't like you?"

Stiles' eyes widen, his cheeks redden and his mouth drops open, all very enticing things. "You've never given me even a hint that you feel that way before."

"That's because I was running from my feelings then," Derek says honestly. "I'm not now."

Planning to stop if Stiles tells him to, Derek nuzzles the side of the boy's neck and slides his hand down until he can undo the button of his ridiculously tight chinos. When Stiles says nothing, Derek keeps going, pulling down the zipper and then slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of Stiles' boxers. He wraps his hand around Stiles' cock and gives it a few experimental strokes. Derek has never touched another guy's dick like this before, but he has spent enough time with only his right hand for company that he knows just what to do.

"Derek!" Stiles gasps, throwing his head back.

"Just give into it," Derek whispers.

He uses the pre-come Stiles is starting to produce to slick the way and swipes his index finger over the slit on every couple upstrokes. Every time he does it, Stiles' shudders against him and his heartbeat falters in his chest. Just that would be enough for Derek to know he's doing a good job, but then Stiles begins fucking into his fist and he's sure he is. It also means that Stiles rubs his ass back against the werewolf's cock and gives him a very naughty idea.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Derek shoves Stiles' chinos and boxers halfway down his thighs and moves back enough to reach his ass, even as his cock throbs in protest at the stimulation being taken away. He spits in his free hand and searches between Stiles' cheeks for his hole. Saliva is an inadequate substitute for lube, but Derek hopes it will work well enough for tonight.

"Has anyone ever touched you here before?" he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

"N-no," Stiles confirms. "Still a virgin here."

He sounds distinctly annoyed, like being a virgin at his age is a terrible thing. Derek loves it, loves that he'll be the first one to know how Stiles feels inside.

"You won't be after tonight," he promises, slipping the tip of his index finger inside Stiles' tight little hole. "If you want me."

Stiles laughs breathlessly. "Have you seen you? There's no way I'm saying no."

"Good."

For the next few minutes, Derek works his fingers into Stiles' body one at time and stretches him for his cock. Just as he inserts a third finger, he takes hold of Stiles' chin with his other hand and directs him to look down at the floor below them, where Scott is dancing with Allison. "Look at him," Derek says, scissoring his fingers apart. "He's not a very good alpha, is he? We're so close to him and he can't hear us."

"The music—"

"—Is loud, but an alpha's hearing should be good enough to hear everything that's going on up here. He hasn't looked up once."

"He's just lost in Allison," Stiles excuses, shoving his ass back onto Derek's fingers.

"Even so. I was lost looking at you earlier and I could still hear everything going on around me. He's just focused on his girlfriend and not looking out for his pack. Not looking out for you."

Before Stiles can offer up another excuse, Derek deems him prepared enough and makes short work of undoing his jeans. He pulls out his aching cock, spits on his palm so that he can slick himself up and then aims the head at Stiles' loosened hole. "You ready?"

"Yeah…put it in me."

Putting his other hand on Stiles' hip to hold him still, Derek begins to push inside. It's difficult for a number of reasons—Stiles has never been fucked before, so his body isn't used to something trying to get inside; they're using spit and not lube; and at eight inches long, Derek isn't exactly small. Still, with some persistence and patience, Derek manages to work himself all the way inside Stiles' body and then wraps his arms around him while he gets used to what must be a very intense stretch. He litters Stiles' neck and jaw with kisses to distract him, until Stiles' knuckles aren't white from holding onto the railing so hard and his ass stops gripping Derek tight enough to hurt.

"Please move," Stiles entreaties, already sounding like he's out of it.

"With pleasure."

The first pull out and thrust back in is nothing short of exquisite. Derek has never felt anything like it. He closes his eyes and puts his nose behind Stiles' ear to breathe him in as he thrusts again, giving them both what they want. It's like Stiles' ass was made just for him, a ludicrous thought that Derek can't help but believe in the heat of the moment.

From the moans that spill from Stiles' mouth, it must feel just as good for him. They sound almost tortured, like Stiles has no control over them whatsoever. Derek surprises himself when he realises that he wants to know why. He was already sure that this wouldn't be the only time they'd have sex, but he hadn't thought he wanted to experience what being fucked felt like. But those sounds…he has to know for himself exactly what it's like.

Maybe next time he'll let Stiles fuck him instead.

Cracking his eyes open again, Derek looks down at the dance floor and picks up the pace a bit to really make Stiles scream. When he does, Scott still doesn't look up. Derek tells Stiles as much.

"See? If he can't even hear you right now, there's no way he'd be able to protect you like I can," he says, right before he sucks on the teenager's neck, creating what will be the mother of all hickeys.

Stiles just makes a choked sound and hangs on for dear life.

Too soon, Derek feels the familiar tingling in his lower gut that tells him his orgasm is fast approaching. He would wonder where the hell his stamina has gone, but he knows exactly why it's happening. After so much build-up, after finally fucking Stiles like he has wanted to for months now, even when he didn't admit it to himself, there would be no way for Derek to make this last. He would be mad at himself for his lack of restraint, but when he brings his hand back to Stiles' cock and strokes him in time with his thrusts, Stiles almost immediately goes off like a rocket.

His ass tightens back up to an almost painful level and his cock jerks wildly in Derek's grip as he shoots between the bars of the railing. Derek would laugh at the thought of the poor bastards who no doubt just got splattered with come were he not on the threshold of his own orgasm. Right as Stiles' ends, Derek thrusts one final time and stays buried to hilt inside Stiles as it hits. He paints his boy's guts with his seed and bites down hard on the stretch of skin between Stiles' neck and shoulder, effectively claiming him from both inside and out. He has just enough wherewithal to hold back his fangs.

When he comes down from his high, Derek stays inside of Stiles as he tucks him back into his boxers. He's reluctant to move more than that, but he has to. As his cock softens, he steps back and groans in time with Stiles as he slips out of Stiles' ass. His cock is shiny with his own release, but Derek doesn't care. He puts himself away and then looks up to find Stiles doing up his chinos. When their eyes meet, Stiles looks away and worries at his bottom lip.

"So…" he mumbles.

"So," Derek echoes.

"I guess I'll see you around."

When Stiles tries to leave, Derek stops him again. "I meant everything I said."

Stiles looks stunned. "I thought you were just saying all that to get into my pants."

"No. I really want you to be in my pack."

"And what about…" Stiles trails off, unable to say the word. He gestures between them with his hand instead.

"If you join my pack, this won't be a one-time thing," Derek reassures him. "We'd have sex whenever you wanted. You could even fuck me next time."

It's obvious Stiles wants to agree, especially following that last promise, but he doesn't say anything.

"My pack's having a meeting tomorrow at my loft," Derek goes on. "It's at 7. You should come."

After a few tense seconds, Stiles says a quiet, "I'll think about it," and this time when he walks away, Derek lets him go.

He prays that Stiles will show up.

Chapter Text

- Sunday, November 6th, 2011 -

Stiles spends the entirety of the next day wondering what he should do about Derek's proposition. As much as it seems like a betrayal, Stiles can admit that everything the alpha said to him in the club the previous night was correct. He understands that Scott has a girlfriend now, so they can't spend as much time together as they did before their worlds got turned upside-down by supernatural shenanigans. But some time would be nice. Stiles has lost count of the number of recent occasions he and Scott have made plans, only for Scott to call or text at the last minute to cancel because Allison better merited his attention. A few times, Scott hadn't even told Stiles he wouldn't make it, which left Stiles feeling like a complete idiot.

Then there's Scott's idiocy and bullheadedness, exacerbated to the nth degree since Peter bit him. That part was basically Stiles' fault, seeing as he was the one who dragged his friend out to the preserve that fateful night, but he has done his best to help Scott acclimate to his new life and would appreciate it if some of that consideration was returned.

And the others, well…

He and Allison have never really been close, even before she was brainwashed by her creepy homicidal grandfather.

Jackson has always been a total dick to him.

Lydia is the most complicated one. For years, Stiles harboured a serious crush on her that looked like it was going nowhere, but then, during the whole kanima debacle, there was a moment in which Stiles actually thought she may have been beginning to like him back. But then she saved Jackson with the power of true love and those hopes were dashed. Stiles would've settled for friendship, but they don't even really have that now. Whenever the pack gets together, Stiles basically only talks to Scott, and sometimes to Allison. Jackson makes snide remarks and Lydia is just…there.

Everything Derek promised him sounds so tempting to Stiles.

He'd get proper friends again in Erica, Boyd and Isaac, who actually aren't that bad now that their power trips are over. Stiles suspects that a lot of it is because of what they went through while held prisoner by the Alpha Pack, but he has never said as much and would never dare to.

He wouldn't have to rely on an alpha who is self-righteous and believes that his way is the only way.

Best of all, Stiles would get Derek.

As he sits with his back against the headboard of his bed, he recalls the thrilling sensation of Derek's hot breath on the back of his neck and shivers. His ass is sore from being fucked for the first time last night, but it's a pleasant soreness. It just reminds him that it wasn't all a dream, that Derek—sexy-as-all-get-out Derek Hale—had really wanted him that way. And other ways besides. His cock twitches as he thinks briefly about Derek's promise to let Stiles fuck him too. God, Stiles wants that. He wants it more than he has ever wanted anything.

Still, he can't defect to Derek's pack without giving Scott one more chance to prove that their friendship is still important to him. Grabbing his phone from atop his nightstand, Stiles sends off a text to his best friend. He asks him if he'd like to come over, play video games and stuff their faces with junk food like they used to do all the time until this year. It's been so long, and Stiles misses it a lot.

A few moments later, Scott sends a message back and accepts. Stiles is delighted—and also, to his surprise, disappointed. Did he actually want his friend to say no and kickstart the dissolution of their decade-long friendship? A part of him did, apparently. The same part that knows it would lead him into Derek's arms, arms that had felt so good wrapped around him in the club.

Don't get ahead of yourself, Stiles thinks. It's not for sure yet. First, let's see if Scott actually keeps his word this time.

* * *

He doesn't.

Stiles exits his house at 6:40 that evening and gets in his Jeep to drive to Derek's loft. Scott had texted him again half an hour ago and given him some shitty excuse for why he couldn't make it. Stiles could see through it easily and suspected that the truth was that Allison had asked him if he wanted to do something after he'd already made plans with Stiles, and Scott just didn't have the balls to tell his so-called best friend that he was bailing on him again to get laid. Stiles might've been able to understand if it wasn't such a regular thing—after all, thanks to Derek, he now knows how amazing sex can be—but sadly it is regular, and this is the straw that breaks his back.

If Scott wants to talk and apologise, Stiles will be there to listen, but he's done waiting around for the true alpha to pay him attention like he's some needy puppy.

As he nears his destination, anticipation builds and makes his heart beat faster than usual. He knows that Derek is expecting him, but will he have told his betas that Stiles might be joining them, hopefully permanently? Stiles doubts it. His arrival is sure to come as a shock to them, and he can't wait. He looks forward to having friends who don't constantly betray, lie to and ignore each other, who know not to treat other people like crap just because they're different.

The parking lot is empty apart from Derek's signature black Camaro and Erica's ancient red Mini. Stiles parks his Jeep next to the former, gets out and looks at the tall building before him. All of its windows are dark and ominous, apart from the ones on the top floor, where Derek's loft is. Light shines out of those. The knowledge that the lights are because Derek is in there with his betas right now is enough to set Stiles at ease, to erase any menace the old building might otherwise hold. As unthinkable as it may have seemed back when they first met, just knowing that Derek is nearby makes Stiles feel safe. He knows from experience that Derek can be counted on, unlike Scott.

The elevator ride is long and uncomfortable, but Stiles makes it, and then he stands on the outside of the sliding metal door to Derek's loft.

"Okay…you've got this," he mutters, "You can—"

Suddenly, the door slides open and Erica yanks him inside. "You know we can hear you, right?"

Stiles blinks dazedly. "Oh. Super hearing. Right."

"Dumbass. What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Scott?" Erica asks with disdain.

Okay, so Derek definitely didn't tell them.

"I was invited," Stiles responds as Erica closes the door behind them. He turns to find Isaac and Boyd sitting on one of two sofas that are positioned on opposite sides of a coffee table. He waves shyly at them before turning his attention to Derek, who gets up from the other sofa to approach him. He wears a pair of tight dark-blue jeans and a light-grey henley that looks painted onto the muscles of his torso, the V-neck low enough to show off his delectable chest hair.

"Who invited you?" Erica enquires, curious instead of disdainful now that Scott's name isn't on her cherry-red lips.

Derek answers before Stiles can. "I did," he says, insinuating himself between the two teens. He's close enough that Stiles can feel the heat of his body. "So you came."

Stiles nods slowly, distracted by the spice of the alpha's scent. "Y-yeah," he stammers.

"Why?" Isaac pipes up from the sofa. "No offence, Stiles."

Stiles snorts. "None taken."

"Because he belongs with us," Derek responds, shooting a look at his betas as if daring them to contradict him.

Erica holds up her hands. "Hey, so long as he doesn't come as a package deal with any of the others, it's cool with me."

Isaac rolls his eyes. "It's whatever, I guess."

Boyd just shrugs.

Gee, what a warm welcome, Stiles muses. He'll take it.

"Good. Now that that's settled…" Derek turns back to Stiles, who can feel his face heat up as he stares back into the werewolf's stupidly pretty hazel eyes. "I also asked him because of this."

Stiles startles when Derek wraps a hand around the back of his neck and uses it to drag him forward, closing the rest of the distance between them. He gasps when their lips connect, which gives Derek the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Stiles stands there with his hands held awkwardly at his sides for a moment, and then his brain catches up and he slings one arm around the small of Derek's back and puts the other hand on Derek's strong shoulder. As he kisses Derek back, he becomes painfully aware of how their crotches are pressed together. Arousal burns in his lower gut.

A wolf-whistle from Erica is what ends up breaking the kiss. Stiles pulls away and ducks his head, his face as red as ever.

"Wow, I didn't know you swung that way, but congrats," Erica says earnestly. "You bagged a hot one!"

Derek glares, and Stiles laughs softly. "Yeah."

He expects someone else to comment, maybe for Isaac to make a sarcastic remark or something, but nothing else happens. There's no fanfare. Derek just puts a hand on the small of Stiles' back and leads him over the sofa he was sitting on when Stiles arrived. They sit down side by side, and Erica rejoins Isaac and Boyd on the opposite sofa. After shooting him a glance that says they'll be talking in more depth about all of this some other time, she launches into a conversation with the other two betas, which leaves Stiles and Derek in their own little bubble.

Stiles just goes with it when Derek drapes his arm across the back of the sofa behind him. It's almost like a display of ownership, like he's staking his claim over Stiles. It's kind of a caveman act, but instead of offending him, it just makes Stiles happy. Hell, he's practically giddy, and he takes it for the silent sign of encouragement that it is. He leans sideways, tucking himself against Derek's warm, godlike body and resting his head on Derek's shoulder.

It's the most content he has felt in years.

* * *

- Monday, November 7th, 2011 -

The next day, Stiles gets to school and is greeted by Erica, Isaac and Boyd at the steps near the front entrance. He hadn't expected them to wait for him like this, and he feels a thrill as he exits his Jeep and walks over to them.

"Took you long enough to get here," Isaac says as soon as he's close enough. "Cutting it close. The bell's about to ring."

"Aww, I didn't think you cared about me," Stiles retorts, clutching a hand to his chest and faking a swoon.

"I don't. Dork."

"Don't lie; you totally do."

Isaac rolls his eyes but doesn't deny it again, which Stiles counts as a win.

"You're sitting with us at lunch today, right?" Erica asks him as they journey inside.

Stiles pictures the look on Scott's face when he does and both cringes and holds back the petty urge to laugh. "Yeah, sure."

"Good. You should always sit with us from now on, seeing as you're now Pack Mom and all."

Stiles trips over his own feet and is only saved from breaking his nose on the floor because Boyd has very fast reflexes. The phlegmatic beta kindly doesn't remove his hand from Stiles' arm until Stiles has his bearings again, at which point he thanks him and then stares bewilderedly at Erica. "Come again?"

It's Erica's turn to roll her eyes. "You're Pack Mom. Duh."

"I…I am?"

"Well yeah. As the alpha, Derek's basically Pack Dad, and you're together now, so…"

Stiles just blinks at her.

"I think you broke him," Isaac comments. He waves a hand in front of Stiles' face.

Erica flicks her hair insouciantly over her shoulder. "He'll get used to it."

"Whatever. I'm still not calling him Mom."

"Your loss. I think he'll make a great Mom."

When Erica links their arms together and drags him along with her as she continues making her way through the halls, Stiles shakes his head to clear it. "I think you're forgetting that, y'know, I have a dick."

Erica waves her other hand at him dismissively. "Doesn't matter."

"It doesn't?"

"Nope. You've totally got that whole nurturer thing going on."

"This is not what I thought we'd be talking about this morning…"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"Well—"

"You can't, because I'm not," Erica steamrolls over him. "Think about it, Batman. Even when we were on opposite sides, you cared. I mean, you were concerned when Jackson made me have that seizure in the library, and you were the one who thought to take me to Derek."

"Anyone would've done that."

A dark look flits across Erica's face, there and gone in a split second. "No, Stiles, they wouldn't. Trust me, I know."

"Still…"

"Just accept it. You're Pack Mom now. End of discussion."

"Don't fight it, dude," Isaac chimes in, sounding bored by the whole thing. "You won't win against her. I've tried before and it didn't work out well. She packs a hell of a punch."

Stiles groans but otherwise doesn't protest again, which greatly pleases Erica. With a devilish grin, she finishes shepherding him to their first class of the day, which, coincidentally, they all have together. Scott and Jackson are also there, and both turn in their chairs to regard Stiles as he accompanies his new friends to four free seats near the back row. Jackson's look is scathing, which is odd because Stiles hadn't thought the blond would care if he left. Scott's expression reeks of confusion and worry. It changes to barely repressed anger when Jackson whispers something to him.

"Ignore them," Erica tells Stiles, directing him to the desk next to hers.

"Guess the cat's out of the bag now," he says as he gets out his notebook.

Isaac sits on the other side of him and does the same. "Screw 'em. They had their chance."

This earns Stiles another dark look from Scott, but he follows Erica's advice and doesn't pay his erstwhile best friend any mind. He bets that a difficult confrontation is coming his way very soon, but until he has to, he'll just not think about it.

He doesn't have anything to feel bad about, after all.

* * *

It takes Scott until the end of the school day to get Stiles alone. In all of his classes, Stiles had at least one of his new friends sitting with him, which was enough to deter Scott from getting into things then and there. But when the final bell rings hours later and it's time for Stiles to get to lacrosse practice with Scott and Jackson, he makes his way to the locker room on his own and counts down the seconds until he has to witness Scott's inevitable meltdown.

He really doesn't get why Scott has always had such a problem with Derek. Sure, Stiles shared Scott's misgivings about the alpha at first, but he quickly learned to look past the walls that Derek had erected to find the kind-hearted but hurt man who was hidden behind them. It was remarkably easy to do, but then again, Stiles has always been better at reading people than Scott. They still had their disagreements, but Stiles knew that Derek wasn't doing everything he did just to be an asshole. He did it because it was what he thought was right, and even though he never apologised outright for the mistakes he made, Stiles could tell that Derek felt bad whenever he messed up and someone else got hurt because of it.

It's more than he can say about Scott, who is never willing to admit when he's wrong. Which is often.

In the locker room, Stiles keeps his distance from Scott and Jackson as he changes clothes. Once he's dressed in his shorts and jersey, he sits on one of the benches and avoids so much as glancing their way until Coach Finstock appears and orders them all out onto the field to do some warmups. He stands and is about to follow the rest of the team outside, but that's when a hand wraps tightly around his wrist.

"Wait," Scott orders, his voice as stern as Stiles has ever heard it. He keeps him there as the locker room empties of everyone else, and only then does he release him.

"So we're doing this here," Stiles observes, crossing his arms over his thin chest.

"Doing what? Me asking you if you've suddenly gone crazy?"

Stiles scoffs. "I wouldn't put it like that."

"How would you put it then? Why the hell are you suddenly all buddy-buddy with Isaac and the others?"

"They're my friends," Stiles says defensively.

"Did you forget who their alpha is? They are not your friends. We're your friends; Lydia, Jackson, Allison and me."

"Some friends…"

Scott narrows his eyes and copies Stiles' stance. "What was that?"

"You heard me. Don't choose now to act like you haven't got that handy-dandy super hearing."

"If you've got a chip on your shoulder about me or whatever, why not just talk to me about it instead of going behind my back and cozying up to the enemy?"

Stiles has to laugh. If he didn't, his ex-best-friend's parochial attitude might just make him cry. "When, Scott? When would I talk to you about it? Yesterday? Oh wait, I couldn't, because you cancelled on me. Again. Maybe in the club on Saturday then. No, wait, couldn't do it then either because you completely blanked me all night. Nothing new there, though. I pretty much expect it now. I'm honestly surprised you noticed I was with Erica and the others today, and that says a lot, I think. I'm sorry if it hurt you, Scott—I really am—but what d'you want me to do? Just hang around and wait for any scrap of attention you guys are willing to show me, just so you can keep me dangling on the hook even longer? 'Cause…fuck that, dude. I deserve better than that, and Derek agreed."

Scott looks progressively more pissed off the longer Stiles talks. When Stiles is done, he's one push away from shifting, but then he takes a deep breath and visibly forces himself to relax. "I'm not saying you can't have other friends, but does it have to be them?"

"Yup, because—believe it or not—I like them, and they like me and actually want to spend time with me. Are you really friends with someone if you never see each other?"

This has Scott tensing up again, likely sensing where this is going. "What're you saying?"

"I've given you chance after chance after chance, Scott, and you let me down every time," Stiles says sadly. He abandons his defensiveness and allows his arms to fall to his sides. "Yeah, maybe I should've brought it up before, but I shouldn't have had to. You should've noticed. You're not just supposed to be my best friend, but you were supposed to be my alpha too, right? Isn't an alpha supposed to care for their pack and make sure everyone's doing alright? Not according to you."

"You know I'm new at this, Stiles."

"It's common sense."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"I'm not calling you stupid. You're acting stupid. There's a difference."

"Not to me!"

"That's what you're getting out of this? Wounded pride?" Stiles didn't think he'd get an apology, and yet, somehow, he still feels let down. "Whatever, Scott. Are you done? Because I think I am."

Scott looks like a kicked puppy now. "Just like that? Just because Derek felt sorry for you and threw you a bone?"

Stiles clears his throat and breezes past that. Scott doesn't need to know the kind of bone Derek really gave him. "That's another thing: that idiotic rivalry you keep up with him."

"He's the one who has a problem with me!" Scott insists, his kicked-puppy expression gone already. It's replaced by irritation, an expression he always wears when Derek is around or comes up in conversation. "All he's ever done is get involved in my shit when I didn't want him there!"

"From my perspective, all Derek has done, at least lately, is react to shit that's been done to him while trying to save all of our lives. Has he fucked up in the past? Yes, I have absolutely no problem admitting that—I'm not delusional. He was an asshole at first, and it took me a long time to forgive him for gunning for Lydia like he did when he thought she was the kanima. But I did forgive him, and you've fucked up just as much, if not more. You say that being an alpha is still new to you. Cool, fine, whatever. Well guess what, Scott: being an alpha is new to Derek too. He's learning as he goes too, and he's learning faster than you."

Scott's lips become a thin line of disapproval. "So this is it, huh? You're gonna ditch me just like that? And you're gonna ditch Lydia as well. Never thought I'd see that happen."

With a sigh, Stiles is almost finished with all of this. "Why wouldn't I?"

"What happened to you being in love with her?"

"I realised the truth."

"And what's that?"

"That I was never in love with her. I loved the idea of her. She could've never lived up to the image I'd built in my head, and it was unfair of me to want her to. Besides, she's got Jackson. Why wouldn't I move on eventually?"

Scott picks up on that last bit right away. "Move on? To who?"

Stiles stays silent.

"Erica?" the werewolf guesses. "Trading one crush on a girl already in a relationship for another. Typical."

"It's not Erica."

"Well then I'm kinda out of ideas."

"Sucks to be you, then," Stiles snarks. He would've felt bad about it before, but after the way this friendly little discussion has gone, he doesn't care anymore.

"It can't be Isaac. You've never told me you swung that way, and I don't think he does either."

"Well, it's none of your business now, is it?"

Scott growls quietly and throws up his hands. "Whatever, Stiles. You wanna ditch your best friend and go hang out with Derek and his dumb pack? Fine. Just don't come crying to me when they screw you over. Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, he storms past Stiles and exits the locker room.

Stiles breathes out and curls his hands into fists at his sides to stop them from shaking. At least that's out of the way now, he tells himself. It sucks, but it is what it is, and it's up to Scott to change it. Stiles isn't fool enough to get his hopes up, though.

No longer in the mood for lacrosse practice, he quickly changes back into his street clothes, figuring that no one will miss him out on the field anyway. After slamming his locker shut, he makes his way out to the parking lot, gets in his Jeep and drives home. He turns on the radio to distract himself, but he's still affected by his talk with Scott and can't stop thinking about it. He knew it would happen, and he really doesn't need a friend like that in his life, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still suck in the worst way. Stiles thinks as he arrives home that it'll take a while to get over it.

Once he gets inside his house, he drops his bag carelessly just inside the front door, grabs a can of Dr Pepper from the fridge and trudges upstairs to his bedroom.

He gets a fright when he discovers that it's not empty.

"You're here earlier than I thought you'd be," Erica says by way of greeting. She lounges across Stiles' bed, her phone held above her face with one hand.

Stiles has trouble speaking, so he doesn't say anything back, just flits his eyes between the girl on his bed and Boyd. The tall beta sits in Stiles' desk chair looking completely at peace, his head tipped back slightly and his eyes closed.

"What—" Stiles begins eventually, stepping further into the room. "What're you guys doing here?"

Erica sits up and drops her phone atop the sheets. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Uh…no?"

"We know Scott would probably make you talk to him after school, so we came here to wait and see if you were alright afterwards. Are you?"

"Honestly, I don't know what I'm feeling right now."

Boyd chooses then to open his eyes and pay attention.

"What'd he say?" Erica questions, dragging Stiles down on the bed next to her. "What did you say?"

Stiles briefly rehashes his conversation with his ex best friend and feels vindicated when Erica seems just as annoyed with Scott as he was. Even Boyd looks as if he'd like to give Scott a swift punch. "It's just kinda shitty to see the back end of a friendship after it lasted so long. For years, we were basically all each other had, y'know?"

"Yeah…" Erica pats his thigh consolingly. "But at least you've got us now, right?"

Managing a smile, Stiles nods his agreement. "Yeah."

"And you've managed to land yourself a hot-as-hell alpha boyfriend to boot! One who can probably kiss it better if you ask him nicely." Erica smirks salaciously.

Stiles' smile becomes a proper grin, albeit a bashful one. "Well, when you put it that way."

"So, how 'bout we go see a movie or something? Distract you a bit. You can go see Derek after."

"I'm definitely down for that."

"Awesome."

Chapter Text

- Monday, November 7th, 2011 -

After the movie they decided to see—The Thing—has finished, Stiles exits the theatre with his new friends and relishes actually being able to participate in a proper conversation about trivial things again. It feels like it's been so long since he's just been able to shoot the shit with someone, and he smiles as he listens to Isaac criticise nearly everything about what they've just spent an hour and a half watching. Stiles didn't think it was as good as the 1982 film, but he still liked it, mainly because he enjoys pretty much anything involving Mary Elizabeth Winstead.

"So, anyone up for food?" Erica asks the group as they walk through the parking lot toward their respective vehicles. "I'm starving!"

"Says the girl who ate all my popcorn during the previews," Isaac teases.

"Well you weren't touching it."

"I was saving it for the movie!"

"S'your fault for letting me get my hands on it early then."

Isaac grunts his acknowledgement before agreeing to Erica's suggestion that they grab a bite somewhere. Boyd gives a simple nod, and all three betas look to Stiles for his vote.

"I guess I am still kinda hungry," he says as they stop between his Jeep and Erica's car, "but I was actually planning to go see Derek and bring food with me if he hasn't eaten yet."

Erica looks put out for a second, and then her countenance becomes lascivious. "Nice plan you got there. The way to a man's heart, yada-yada-yada. You get that D, Stiles."

Stiles sputters and flails a bit dramatically, which makes Erica and Isaac laugh. At least it's good-natured. "That wasn't my plan!" he refutes, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Hey, you gotta lose your V card sometime, dude," Isaac tells him. When the other boy averts his eyes, he catches on quickly. "Wait…you already have, haven't you?"

Stiles scratches nervously at the back of his neck. "Uhh…"

"Oh my God!" Erica squeals. "When did this happen and why didn't you tell me?! I'm offended, Batman."

Stiles is unsure whether Derek would be okay with him sharing what they did in the club over the weekend, but with Erica staring at him so excitedly, he feels like he has to give her something. He tries to leave it vague, but apparently he doesn't do a good enough job because Erica still jumps to the right conclusion immediately.

"So that's how Derek managed to finally convince you to leave Scott's pack," she says. "Kinda underhanded, but I like it."

"Just don't tell him I told you," Stiles entreaties. "I don't wanna make him mad."

"Don't worry; your secret's safe with me. So how was it?"

Stiles' eyes widen. "That, I'm not telling you."

"Buzzkill."

"If it was just me, then sure, I'd probably give you all the dirty details you wanted, but Derek's kind of a private guy, and I get the feeling that that extends to his sex life too."

Erica sighs. "Fine…"

Satisfied, Stiles pulls his phone from the pocket of his red chinos. "Lemme see if he's even home first, though. If he's not, then yeah, I'll come with you guys."

"As opposed to coming with him," Isaac mumbles.

Stiles ignores the snarky beta and just concentrates on typing, keeping it short and sweet:

1, you at the loft? 2, hungry?

He only has to wait ten seconds before a reply comes through suggesting he bring pizza. His ensuing grin is all the others need to see to know that he won't be joining them, so they promise to meet Stiles outside school again tomorrow morning before saying goodbye to him and driving off in Erica's car. Stiles watches them go before he gets behind the wheel of his Jeep. To make sure the food is ready by the time he gets there to collect it, he makes a quick call to his favourite pizza place—he has their number in his contacts because he's that guy—and then he's off too, eager to spend some one-on-one time with Derek.

Who'd have thought that would ever happen?

* * *

Just over half an hour later, Stiles steps out of the freight elevator and approaches the door to Derek's loft. It opens right before he gets to it, and the man himself steps aside so that Stiles can enter. Tonight, Derek is dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a grey tank top that shows off his muscles and the dark hair on his forearms. Oddly enough, Stiles finds the latter just as attractive as the former.

"What kind did you get?" Derek enquires, eyeing the two boxes in Stiles' hands.

"Meat feast with cheese stuffed crust," the human replies. "I figured meat for a werewolf was a good idea, and with the black holes you all seem to have for stomachs, I went large."

"That's some good thinking. You're not as dumb as you look," Derek says, his smirk reassuring Stiles that he's joking. After months spent with Derek looking constantly angry and constipated, it still surprises Stiles every time the alpha shows his sense of humour.

They relocate over to the same sofa, side by side with the pizza boxes open on the coffee table in front of them. Stiles can't help but stare at his companion as he picks up a slice. He hasn't seen Derek all day, and he realises now that he actually missed him. He feels pretty stupid at first, like maybe he's being clingy or something, but he chides himself and takes his first bite. Derek obviously doesn't mind having him here, and Stiles guesses that, in a relationship, you're supposed to want to spend a lot of time in the other person's company.

This brings about the realisation that, although they've had sex and Derek was pretty touchy-feely with him yesterday evening, they haven't actually discussed a label for what they are. Stiles doesn't need one, exactly, but it would be nice—and he'd feel more secure—if their developing relationship had one.

"Do anything interesting today?" Stiles asks. He'll build up to it.

Derek shrugs. "Not really. I checked in with Deaton to see if there's any new threat we should know about, but he said he hasn't noticed anything."

"That's good."

"Yeah. What about you?"

Stiles informs Derek of the confrontation he'd had with Scott in the boys' locker room. Derek gets mad on Stiles' behalf, with feels good.

"I'd offer to beat some sense into him, but I don't want to make things worse between our packs," he says. His anger fades and then he looks at Stiles sympathetically.

"That's alright. It's sad, but it is what it is. Ball's in his court now."

"That's a good outlook."

Things are slightly awkward as they share inane chitchat for another few minutes, and then Stiles believes he has worked up the courage to ask the question that's been on his mind since he arrived:

"What are we?" he blurts out, shutting his pizza box with half of its contents still uneaten.

Derek must sense the shift into something more serious. He drops his current slice back into his own box and turns sideways on the sofa, giving Stiles his undivided attention. "What do you mean?"

"Us. What are we? Is this casual? Friends with benefits? Boyfriends? I probably should've brought this up before, but it only just occurred to me."

Derek takes a moment to think, and then he says, "What do you want us to be?"

Stiles worries at his bottom lip. He doesn't want to ask for too much and end up with nothing, but he's had it drilled into his head by nearly every movie and TV show there is that honesty and communication are key to having and maintaining a healthy relationship, so he shows his hand. "I want us to be exclusive," he says. "Not that I think you'd go sleeping around with whoever, but…yeah, exclusive."

"So…boyfriends, then?" Derek supplies, his expression inscrutable, like he doesn't want to give anything away until he knows conclusively how Stiles feels about it.

"Yeah," the teenager confirms. "Boyfriends."

Derek stares for a few more moments, his expression unchanging, and then his eyes warm up and his lips curl into a small smile that Stiles finds adorable. "Boyfriends it is."

"Oh. Okay, good." Stiles is incredibly relieved and can't believe his luck. He can't figure out what amazing deed he did to deserve the attention of the man next to him, but he's gonna take it and run with it for as long as it lasts. Hopefully, that turns out to be a very long time. There's just one hurdle left that Stiles is unsure about, and it's something he won't be able to ignore for very long without guilt eating away at him. "What do we tell my dad?"

Derek hums. "D'you want to tell him?"

"I think I kinda have to. I mean, I lied to him for a long time about werewolves and all that crap, and that felt bad enough. Now that he knows, there aren't any secrets between us anymore and I don't wanna go back to that. I hated lying to him, even if I thought it was for his own good back then."

"Then we won't lie," Derek says, as if it's really that simple.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"But…what if he doesn't like it? I mean, you're several years older than me, and technically this is illegal."

"After Saturday, I think it's a bit late to worry about that," Derek points out.

Stiles is blushing a lot lately. He feels another one coming on. "I guess. But still, I don't want to make my dad mad, or for him to arrest you. Again."

"We'll break it to him gently."

"When?"

"Sooner rather than later is probably a safe bet. You know him better than I do, obviously, but I think he's more likely to be upset the longer we leave it."

"I'm nervous."

"I'd be concerned if you weren't, but I really think it'll work out. We just have to make sure he knows that this isn't just a sex thing."

"That there are genuine feelings involved," Stiles agrees, looking up at Derek from beneath his eyelashes. He waits to hear how the werewolf responds to that.

"Yeah," is all Derek says, but his gaze is fond, which is enough for Stiles.

"Guess that's settled then. Tomorrow? I wanna rip the Band-Aid off before I have a chance to chicken out."

"I can do tomorrow."

"It's a plan."

* * *

After Stiles has received a toe-tingling goodbye kiss on his way out of Derek's loft, he heads back home again and finds his dad's cruiser in the driveway and the dining room light on. Stiles thought he would be home alone tonight, but he can't say he minds getting to hang out with his dad for a bit. They don't see as much of each other as he would like, after all, what with how demanding the title of Sheriff is and how crazy Stiles' life has become of late. Feeling cheerful after a wonderful afternoon out with his friends and an evening in with his new boyfriend, Stiles walks through the front door with his leftover pizza in hand and pep in his step. He deposits his backpack at the bottom of the stairs and goes to find his dad in the dining room.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asks when he finds the man sitting at the table with piles of manila folders in front of him.

"Going through a bunch of old cases," his dad apprises him, sipping from a tumbler of whiskey.

"Why?"

"Well, there's been a whole crap-ton of stuff in this town over the years that was just written off as hoaxes or witnesses seeing things. I'm going through all these cases and trying to pick out which were faked or made up, and which were actually supernatural."

"Oh." Stiles pulls one of the piles of folders toward him. "Can I help?"

The sheriff nods. "Sure. You'd probably know what to look for better than I would."

Stiles grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and then joins his dad at the dining table. For a while they work in companionable silence, each going through the folders his dad brought home and sorting them into several piles: non-supernatural, and then one for each type of supernatural occurrence, be it kanima, werewolf or something else. Stiles has just finished reading a statement about a giant lizard running across the road in front of a witness's car when he has an idea.

"D'you want my leftover pizza?" he offers, gesturing to the box he'd put at the other end of the table. Maybe he can use it to butter his dad up a bit.

His dad looks up suspiciously. "You're letting me have junk food? What've you done?"

Stiles dodges the question for now. "Nothing. I just don't want it to go to waste, is all."

The sheriff still looks disbelieving, but he accepts the pizza without another comment.

"So…" Stiles begins quietly. "What d'you think of Derek?"

His dad shrugs. "I didn't like him at first, thought he was trouble. But now that I know the truth about everything, I think he's okay."

Stiles hopes that bodes well. "Cool."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why're you asking me about Derek all of a sudden?"

"Because on Sunday I kinda, sorta, maybe left Scott's pack and joined Derek's instead," Stiles reveals.

The sheriff puts down the folder he'd been poring over. "That's unexpected."

"Yeah, well…Scott's had other priorities lately, and Derek's pack seemed like they actually wanted me around, so. It was an easy decision."

"So Derek is your alpha now?"

Stiles contemplates giving the full truth. He and Derek had discussed not telling his dad about them until tomorrow, but this is as good an opportunity as any. He goes for it and crosses his fingers beneath the table. "Among other things," he says carefully, gauging his dad's reaction. His dad is a very smart and perceptive man, so it doesn't take long for him to decipher what his son means.

"You and Derek," he states, sitting up straight and alert. He doesn't look angry, but he doesn't look altogether pleased, either.

"Y-yeah?"

"How long has this been going on?"

Stiles starts jiggling his leg. "A couple days."

"Was that one of the reasons you switched packs?"

"One of, yeah, but I would've done it anyway. Like I said, I'm not really anyone's priority in Scott's pack, and I was tired of feeling that way."

The sheriff takes a breath. "Let's put a pin in you and Derek for now. Are you and Scott no longer friends?"

Stiles shrugs. "I'd like to be, but he's just being unreasonable."

"How so?"

For the third time, Stiles recounts the exchange he'd had with Scott before lacrosse practice and is glad when he sees understanding on his dad's face instead of disappointment or something equally unpleasant.

"I've known Scott can be bullheaded at times," the sheriff says when Stiles is done, "but that's something else."

Stiles thinks that being a true alpha has gone to Scott's head, but he doesn't say so.

The sheriff stares blankly at the table for a while, thinking, and then he talks again. "I'm sad about it, but I guess people change, and it's not always for the better. And friendships do come and go. Are you okay, son?"

Stiles nods. "I guess. It hurts, but there's not really anything else I can do about it. Plus, I've got Erica, Isaac and Boyd now, who'll, y'know, actually talk to me without making it seem like they'd rather be doing something else."

"Okay," his dad accepts. He downs the rest of the whiskey in his tumbler. "Now, about you and Derek…"

"Can I say something first, before you say no?"

His dad inclines his head as if to say, "Go ahead."

"So I know you're gonna have some problems with it, and I get that," Stiles speaks. "Derek's older than me, and being with him could be dangerous for a number of reasons. But I'd be a part of the supernatural world anyway because the rest of my friends are a part of it and I want to protect them. As much as little ol' human me can, anyway. But I think Derek'll be really good for me too, and I'll be good for him. Yes, he's kind of a Sourwolf sometimes and we pretty much hated each other in the past, but I guess constantly relying on each other to stay alive forms a bond. He's had a lot of shit—"

"Stiles!" the sheriff chides.

"Sorry. He's had a lot of stuff happen to him and reacted like anyone would. He looked out for me when no one else did and makes me think more seriously about things, and in return I like to think I help him not to see life as all doom-and-gloom all the time."

When Stiles stops speaking, his dad sits forward and rests his elbows on the edge of the table. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, that was my opening gambit."

Despite himself, the sheriff's lips twitch with amusement before he can stop them. Once he has suppressed the emotion, he becomes serious again. "You made some good points."

Stiles braces himself. "I sense a 'but' coming."

"But I still have my reservations, mainly about the age difference. Even if they're mature for their age, for someone in their teenage years to have a romantic relationship with an adult is tricky. It very often leads to an imbalance in power because each party is at a very different place in their life, and that doesn't make for a healthy relationship."

"Well yeah, but—"

"I'm not finished," Stiles' dad talks over him, his eyebrows raised.

Stiles bows his head. "Sorry. Go on."

"He makes you happy?" the man asks Stiles, stunning him.

It takes a moment for him to be able to react, and then he nods ardently. "He really does."

"Then…okay. I can't say I like it, exactly, but I think we all need a bit more happiness in our lives after everything that's happened this year, and if Derek can give you that, then I won't stop you from seeing him."

Stiles' day just keeps getting better and better. He leaps up from his chair and throws his arms around his dad, hugging him tightly. "Thank you," he whispers.

The sheriff embraces him back. "I have three conditions. One: if you're going to spend time together, try to do it here. Two: you won't complain when I speak to Derek myself. Alone. And three: you don't have sex with him until you're eighteen."

Stiles pulls back at that, and the shiftiness in his face must give him away.

His dad groans, and Stiles gets the impression that he'd bang his head against the table were his son not in the way. "You've already slept together, haven't you?"

"Maybe," Stiles admits sheepishly, taking a step back and looking away.

"Was that where you were tonight?"

"No. I mean, I was over at Derek's loft, but we just ate pizza and talked for a bit."

The sheriff heaves a great sigh. "Fine. Since it's apparently too late for that, you'll make sure I don't see or hear anything, and you'll always use protection. Always. Got it?"

"I know all about safe sex, dad," Stiles says. "But Derek and I don't actually need to use protection because Derek's a werewolf and he can't catch or spread STDs and all that, and since I was a virgin before—"

"Okay!" the sheriff shouts, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. I don't need to know anything else. Just be careful, and use good judgment."

With the awkward part over and done with, Stiles goes in for another hug. "You're the best, dad."

The sheriff sighs again, but it's more fond than exasperated. "I know."

For a little while longer, Stiles stays downstairs and keeps helping his dad go through old cases. When it's late enough that he has to go to bed if he doesn't want to be too tired for school in the morning, he hugs his dad a final time, tells him to get some sleep too and goes upstairs to bed. After brushing his teeth, he sends another text to Derek to tell him to expect a visit from the sheriff very soon, plugs his phone in to charge and then slides beneath his bedsheets.

He's out almost as soon as he closes his eyes.

* * *

- Tuesday, November 8th, 2011 -

The next day, Stiles spends most of school studiously avoiding Scott and anyone in his old pack. It's not easy, but he manages to get through every period before lunch without having to interact with any of them. He doesn't fail to notice the way they all look at him now, though. Scott still looks furious; Jackson is the same as always; Allison looks bemused; and Lydia seems half-annoyed and half-understanding, which Stiles supposes is the best he could have hoped for.

At lunch, Stiles sits with his trio of friends and uses the time both to get to know them better than he'd bothered to before, and to repeatedly check his phone for texts.

"We too boring for you or something?" Isaac asks him eventually, in between bites of a french fry.

"What?" Stiles raises his eyes from his phone. "Oh, no. Sorry. I'm just waiting for Derek to get back to me about something."

Erica chimes in then, her voice worried. "Anything important?"

"Maybe. I, uh, told my dad last night about Derek and me being together, and he said he was gonna talk to Derek soon. I'm just waiting for hear how it went."

"Wow, that's a big step. Did he take it well?"

Stiles nods. "He seemed to. Better than I thought he would, actually."

"That's good."

"Yeah. I don't think I'm gonna relax completely until I hear from one of them, though."

"I get that."

Setting his phone facedown next to his lunch tray, Stiles pushes down his worries and tries to concentrate on the conversation. It's then that he notices Scott over Erica's shoulder. The alpha sits a few tables away and glares right back at him, his mouth twisted with disgust. Stiles easily figures out that his ex-friend had been eavesdropping and is annoyed. When Scott turns around and leaves Stiles alone again a few seconds later, he hopes the other boy isn't planning anything bad.

* * *

John Stilinski reluctantly pauses the movie he'd been watching when he hears an impatient knock on the front door. With a grunt, he gets up from the sofa, walks into the foyer and answers the door, surprise widening his eyes when he finds Scott standing on the doorstep.

"Scott? What're you doing here?" John checks the time on his watch. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Yeah, but I needed to talk to you and it couldn't wait," Scott responds, expression sombre.

Instinct has John about to step aside to permit Scott to enter, but then he recalls everything his son told him the previous night and stays where he is. "Okay. Go ahead."

Scott frowns. "Can I come in?"

"I think we can talk here, if that's alright with you."

The frown doesn't disappear, but Scott doesn't argue. "Fine," he says, irritation bleeding through. "It's about Stiles. I think Derek is taking advantage of him."

John starts to get an inkling of what this is all about. "What makes you think that?"

"I heard him talking in the cafeteria today, and it sounded like he and Derek are…involved. I thought you should know so you could do something about it. It's not fair to Stiles for Derek to manipulate him and play with his feelings just to get to me."

So this is what Stiles was talking about, John muses, amazed by Scott's inflated sense of self-importance. He hasn't really talked much with the teenager recently, so he hadn't seen the change in him until this very moment. Combining that with what Stiles said, it doesn't paint a very pretty picture, and he doesn't think it's good of Scott to insinuate that anything Derek does or doesn't do is just because of him. Admittedly, John doesn't know Derek very well, but his instincts say that the younger man isn't immature or petty enough to do something like that.

He had a very enlightening talk with him that morning. He'd stopped by the loft and basically interrogated Derek about his intentions with Stiles, and frankly, he'd been impressed by Derek's candour. It was a far cry from the cold man he'd seen when Derek first returned to Beacon Hills and Stiles and Scott falsely accused him of Laura Hale's murder. He filled in enough of the blanks about his past with Kate Argent for John to correctly infer the rest, and then he'd promised that he would never intentionally hurt Stiles. God help him, John actually believed him, and he'd left feeling more confident in his earlier decision to allow Derek's relationship with Stiles to go ahead.

"I already know, Scott," John says.

"You do? And you're okay with it?" Scott asks judgmentally.

"Stiles told me last night. I wasn't okay with it right away, that's true, but I think Derek has proven that he can protect my son from the dangers that are now in his life—better than I can, anyway—and that he cares. If Stiles is happy, that's good enough for me."

Scott stares incredulously. "Are you serious?"

John thinks it's sad that Scott's grudge against Derek is so big that he doesn't care about Stiles' happiness. That was another major contributing factor to his acceptance—how Stiles' face had lit up when he was talking about Derek, and how Derek's had softened when he was talking about Stiles. John had never seen Derek look like that before, and it could only be a good thing. He still harbours some reservations and will be keeping a close eye on things, but right now, John is cautiously optimistic.

"Is that everything, Scott?" he enquires impersonally, crossing his arms over his chest.

The boy must sense that he won't get what he wants. "Fine," he seethes. "I'll take care of this myself." With a flash of his eyes, he turns and storms petulantly down the Stilinskis' front path.

John watches him go and thinks what a shame all of this is. With a disappointed shake of his head, he closes the door and goes back to his movie.

Chapter Text

- Tuesday, November 8th, 2011 -

Stiles is stunned when the final bell rings and Lydia ambushes him outside of his last class of the day. Without giving him a chance to say anything, she grabs his wrist and drags him down the hall toward the janitor's closet. Stiles is taken back to some of the fantasies he'd had when he still had a crush on the banshee. Back then, this would've been like a waking wet dream, but as she shoves him into the closet, follows after him and shuts the door, Stiles is just confused. There's not a hint of arousal pumping through his veins, not even when Lydia switches on the light and he takes in how close together they're forced to stand in such an enclosed space.

"Uhh…hi?" Stiles squeaks, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hi," Lydia echoes. She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up. Stiles isn't even tempted to look. "Have you seen Scott?"

"Scott?"

"Yes, Scott," Lydia says as if she's talking to an idiot.

"Not since I caught him listening in on my conversation with Erica and the others at lunch. Why? And why did you think me of all people would know where he is? You should know we're not exactly on speaking terms right now."

Lydia shuts her perfectly lined, mascaraed and shadowed eyes and takes a deep breath like she's reining in a strong emotion. Stiles guesses exasperation. It wouldn't be the first time she felt that for him. "Because I'm trying to help you," she explains, condescension dripping from her voice like oil, dark and unpleasant. "I think Scott's planning something after whatever he heard you talking about with Derek's trio of misfit betas—something bad—and I wanted to warn you in case it's not too late. But I haven't seen him since lunch either, and neither have Allison or Jackson."

Stiles blinks a few times as he processes what he has just been told. "You're helping me?"

Lydia glares, which clearly means, "Yes," combined with an insult about his intelligence. "Do I need to spell it out for you? Maybe make a sign with glitter and neon colours?"

"Okay, there's no need to speak to me like that," Stiles fires back, frowning. "I know you like getting mean to deflect from whatever's going on behind your carefully constructed walls, but I'm not gonna let you aim it my way anymore. If you really wanna help, say what you want to say and go."

It's Lydia's turn to be shocked. It's clear as day on her face for a split second, and then she looks almost proud before she slips her mask back into place. "Fine," she accepts, dropping her arms back to her sides. "What you talked about must've gotten to Scott, and now I think he's on the warpath. It's no secret that he's always hated Derek. I've never really been a fan either, but despite our differences, I can see that he's not a bad person and I don't want Scott to do anything to him or his betas. Your new pack, I suppose. I think it's good that you left ours. You weren't happy there, and if I'm being honest, you were always going to be at the bottom of the food chain with us."

"Uhh…thanks, I guess," Stiles says, unsure how to take Lydia flat-out admitting that she will always see him as beneath her. "And thanks for telling me about Scott. Is that all?"

"Yeah, that's everything," Lydia replies with a shrug.

"Good. Good talk."

Stiles sidles around her to get to the door. Once he's back out in the hallway, he empties and refills his lungs a couple times before continuing on his way.

Outside the building, Erica, Boyd and Isaac are waiting for him. Erica pounces as soon as he's through the double doors. "What did she want?"

"To warn me about Scott," Stiles apprises all three betas, leading the way down the front steps. "She thinks he's gonna do something."

"Something like what?"

"She didn't know, but I'm going over to Derek's to tell him too." He looks at them expectantly after they arrive at his Jeep. "Are any of you guys coming with me?"

Isaac scoffs. "Duh. As if you needed to ask, Stilinski."

"We'll tail you," Erica says before walking away and taking Isaac and Boyd with her.

Stiles climbs in behind the wheel of his Jeep, sticks his keys in the ignition and hopes that Lydia warned him in time to prevent Scott from doing anything stupid.

Knowing his luck, though, she didn't.

* * *

Just barely stopping himself from driving like a madman, Stiles pulls up his parking brake in the lot outside Derek's building and quickly exits his Jeep. He can see Scott's bike leaning against the dirty brick facade, meaning that the true alpha is already here. Stiles trusts in Derek's abilities to fend off any attack that Scott might launch against him, but he won't feel better until he has seen that his boyfriend is unharmed with his own eyes.

He manages to wait just long enough for Erica, Boyd and Isaac to get out of Erica's car, and then he storms into the building and into the freight elevator. He taps his foot impatiently as it rattles upward, taking its passengers to the top floor. The betas all stand behind him, none of them saying anything about the adrenaline that is coursing through Stiles' veins and playing havoc with his nerves. Maybe they understand where it's coming from, or maybe they're too afraid that he'll snap at them if they tell him to calm down. The former is more likely, but he's still glad. He doesn't believe anything he could say would really affect them, but he'd rather not find out. He'd like not to ruin their friendships, especially since they've only just properly started.

When the elevator stops, Stiles shoots out of it like a bullet and goes straight through the door to Derek's loft, which is wide open.

"Scott," he says angrily, finding the other boy standing a few feet away from Derek in the middle of the open space. No violence seems to have broken out yet, but from how rigid Derek is, things were close to escalating before Stiles arrived.

"Stiles," Scott sneers, his face twisting into something ugly.

Stiles ignores him and walks over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Derek, a united front. The betas position themselves behind the pair.

"You didn't need to come," Derek murmurs to him, his stern expression relaxing slightly as he meets Stiles' gaze.

"As if I'm gonna let this go down without being here," Stiles tells him, giving him a tense smile. "I've gotta look after my man, don't I?"

Derek appears momentarily flustered but pleased, but the moment is lost when Scott laughs humourlessly and draws everyone's attention back to him.

"Your man? Really?" Scott derides. "You're blind if you can't see that he's just using you."

"Let me guess: to get to you, right?" Stiles sasses.

"So you do see it."

"Nope, can't say I do. I just know that's what you're thinking."

Scott takes a single step forward and looks like he wants to come even closer, but he wisely reconsiders when Derek growls at him. "I'm trying to protect you here, even after you betrayed me."

It's Stiles' turn to laugh. "You believe Derek's trying to manipulate me. Fine. I don't like it, but I can't stop you from thinking that. But for you to think I'd be dumb enough to fall for something like that is honestly offensive. D'you think my self-esteem is that low?"

"Yes!" Scott exclaims, throwing his arms wide. "It's always been!"

Stiles purses his lips. "Nice to know your real opinion of me. I think it's best if you leave now and don't come back. There's nothing for you here."

"Jesus-fucking-Christ, he's got everybody fooled…" Scott mumbles to himself, just loud enough for Stiles to hear. He lowers his eyes and then raises them back to Stiles' face. "You, Allison's dad, even your dad." He switches his attention to Derek and glowers. "I've gotta hand it to you: you're good."

"What's that about my dad?" Stiles asks.

"I tried to talk to him earlier, warn him about what Derek's doing to you so that he could stop it, but he wouldn't listen. Your new alpha's gotten to him too."

"So you went behind my back to my dad? Classy move, Scotty-boy. I guess it's a good thing I jumped the gun and told him about Derek and I last night, isn't it?"

"Have you ever thought, Scott," Isaac butts in, looking bored out of his mind, "that the problem might be you? If absolutely everyone around you isn't seeing something, it might just be you who's in the wrong and not everyone else."

Scott shakes his head. "You're not getting into my head that easily."

"I'd say we already have. Why else would you be so bothered by Stiles finally ditching your sorry ass? You're totally bothered. It's pretty hilarious."

"Isaac, stop baiting him," Derek orders without turning around.

"But it's fun! And besides, with how he's acting, I'd say he deserves to be messed with a bit."

"This is what you left us for, Stiles? This?" Scott says almost pleadingly, like he's begging his old friend to come around to his way of thinking. "You heard him! He wants to screw with me. How can you be sure that they're not just all screwing with you too?"

"Because I wouldn't stand for it," Derek responds, doing a fantastic job of holding onto his composure. It's starting to slip, but Stiles is impressed. When they met, Derek would've already been at Scott's throat. "My betas know better than to mess with Stiles. With the position he now holds, they wouldn't dare. And besides, I don't tolerate that sort of thing in my pack anymore. Unlike you, who tolerated Stiles being treated like crap by all of you while you could still call him yours. Well guess what, Scott—Stiles is mine now, in all senses of the word. He belongs in my pack, by my side. You'd better accept that and grow the hell up before you really piss me off and I finally follow through on my old promise to tear your throat out with my teeth."

"If that's the way you want it," Scott spits out. Without warning, he lunges for Derek.

Derek pushes Stiles behind him, getting him out of harm's way, and then the two alphas do battle. Scott is angry and, as a true alpha, is more powerful that Derek, but that's where his advantages end. Derek has been a werewolf his whole life and an alpha for longer than Scott, and as such, he is far more skilled when it comes to using his strength. Scott is all wild energy and emotion, whereas Derek is almost cold in his movements. Calculated.

Before Stiles can even think to worry, Derek gets his hand around Scott's neck and slams him to the floor hard enough to shake the concrete beneath Stiles' feet. He unleashes a stentorian roar right in Scott's face, reminding Stiles of the time Derek did the same thing to get Isaac back under control when Isaac was suspected of murdering his own father and came after Stiles in his distress. It has the same effect now. Scott, a true alpha, capitulates instantly, his beta shift receding. He's obviously not happy about it, his entire being radiating hatred for the man holding him down, but when Derek releases him, he doesn't try again to attack. Instead he leaps to his feet and retreats several paces, his breathing heavy.

"I think we're done here," Derek says calmly. He clasps his hands behind his back, the picture of control once more. "Don't do this again, Scott. To challenge another alpha like that normally means a fight to the death. I spared you this time because, in spite of everything, I know Stiles still cares for you and wouldn't like it if I killed you. Try it again and I won't have any choice."

Walk away, Stiles implores in his head. Walk away, Scott. Don't make me watch Derek kill you.

Mercifully, Stiles' prayers are heard. With one last scathing look shot at him, Scott turns tail and runs, taking the scraps of his dignity with him.

"I hope he finally learned his lesson," Isaac mutters, throwing himself down in a lazy sprawl on one of the sofas.

"Me too," Stiles sighs, still staring sadly at the open door. He doesn't look away until Derek wraps an arm around his shoulders and coaxes him toward the other sofa.

"Come on," the alpha says, "let's forget about him and try to salvage the rest of the evening."

When they're seated close to each other on the sofa, naughty ideas appear in Stiles' head, all of them involving significantly less clothing. He frantically pushes down his ill-timed arousal before any of the werewolves in the room can catch a whiff of it, particularly the betas. "Sounds like a plan to me, Sourwolf," he says, clearing his throat. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

A couple hours later, their game of Monopoly ends with Erica as the winner, and she, Boyd and Isaac leave the loft to return to their own homes. After they're gone, it hits Stiles for the first time that Isaac is still living with the McCalls. He wonders how the other boy copes with that. He doesn't think he could handle living under the same roof as Scott right now, but something tells him that Melissa has a lot to do with Isaac lasting this long. He'll have to ask him later.

"What're you thinking about?" Derek asks him as he cleans up the dirty plates his betas left on the coffee table from dinner.

"Isaac's living situation," Stiles answers. "Can't be easy."

"It's not, but I trust him to tell me if it gets too much. I think he and Scott basically pretend the other doesn't exist. It's tough on Melissa, but there's not a lot we can do about it."

Stiles hums and tips his head over the back of the sofa. Now that the distraction of food and board games is no longer present, he ruminates on his latest confrontation with Scott. Something Derek said sticks with him, and he has to ask him about it.

"What did you mean when you told Scott that Erica and the others wouldn't mess with me because of 'the position I hold'?"

Derek turns to him, plates stacked and balanced on one palm. His expression is wary. "Let me just put these in the sink and then we'll talk."

"Okay."

The alpha vanishes for a few moments. Stiles hears metal scraping over china and the sound of running water, and then Derek returns and retakes his spot on the sofa to Stiles' left, their thighs touching. "Now, what was it you wanted to know?"

Stiles leans against Derek's side and repeats his question.

"Well," Derek starts hesitantly, picking at a loose thread on the right leg of his jeans, "we're together now. Being in a relationship with the alpha of a pack affords the other person certain…perks, I guess. Basically, you're second-in-command now. All of the betas have to answer to you. You can't exactly force them to obey you because you're still human, but the impulse to listen to you will be ingrained in them for as long as we're together. And, in the future, if we make things official, you'll permanently have a place at my side and the betas will always defer to you. They pretty much do already, even with how much they like to talk back."

Stiles takes Derek's hand in his own to stop him from ruining his jeans. "Aren't we official already?"

"Not quite. We are in human terms, but not in werewolf ones. To make things official that way, I'd have to stake my claim on you with a mating bite."

"And what does that mean? To be mates?"

Derek is silent for a while, Stiles suspects so that he can choose his words carefully. "Think of it like the werewolf version of marriage, but without the possibility of divorce. It's forever. There's no going back."

"And…and you want that with me?" Stiles enquires. He knew that Derek liked him and wanted to be with him, but apparently he hadn't been aware of just how much.

"One day," Derek confirms. "If you'd be willing. You know I'd never bite you without your permission."

"I know, but I don't want the bite, not unless I'm dying or something. That hasn't changed," Stiles points out. Has he just ruined everything?

"It wouldn't turn you," Derek says, giving Stiles his answer. "The intent has to be there for an alpha's bite to turn someone. All this bite would do is cement our connection and tie us together as closely as two people can be tied together. My parents were mates."

Stiles breathes more easily now that he knows he won't have to become a werewolf to have what Derek is offering. It sounds wonderful, and he can definitely see himself committing to Derek like that at some point in the future. Maybe not until after he has graduated from college, though. His dad would probably kill both of them if he let Derek bite him before then. "You never talk about your family," Stiles says, tabling the topic of their future for now.

Derek's voice becomes soft and aggrieved. "They're not easy to talk about."

Stiles squeezes his hand. "If anyone gets it, it's me. It still hurts to talk about my mom. I hardly ever do, not even with my dad. I'm sorry. We don't have to go there yet."

"Thanks."

"Anytime, Sourwolf."

When the conversation comes to its natural end, they sit in silence for a while, displaying a level of comfort with each other that would've been unfathomable just a few short weeks ago.

As time goes on, the heat of Derek's body, his manly musk, and the sensation of Derek's thumb brushing over the back of his hand reawakens Stiles' libido. Is this what it's always going to be like? Will Derek always render him unable to wrangle in his hormones? He managed it earlier, but it was a close call. His body responding like this from simple proximity will eventually lead to many embarrassing situations, Stiles is sure, but he doesn't need to worry about that right now. He and Derek are alone, so he doesn't suppress this new wave of arousal.

When he turns his head to look up at Derek, he finds the alpha already staring at him, his pupils dilated. There's a thin ring of red around them.

"You're turned on," the alpha observes, so affected by the scent of Stiles' arousal that his voice is as husky as Stiles has ever heard it. It's attractive as hell.

The human nods and swipes his tongue out over his bottom lip, wetting it. He catches the way Derek follows the movement with his eyes. "Is that a problem?" he asks.

"No."

They keep looking at each for a few moments more, and then…

As if a starting gun has been fired, both males move at the same time. Somehow, Stiles ends up on his back with Derek pressing him down into the sofa cushions with the weight of his heated body. It's an amazing place to be, sends shivers down Stiles' spine. It feels like Derek is taking everything he is and making it his own.

Their mouths meet in a kiss that's made sloppy by too much passion. Probably by Stiles' inexperience too. Stiles moans when Derek captures his bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it, their groins rubbing against each other at the same time. He can feel Derek's erection through their jeans and wants to finally see it with his own eyes. He already knows it's big from the club the previous weekend, but he wants to taste it, to get acquainted with it in every way possible.

"Wanna move this to the bed?" Derek asks him, breaking the kiss. He's obviously thinking of moving things along too.

Stiles nods enthusiastically. "Hell yes."

"Put your arms around my neck."

Once Stiles has done as he's been told, he squawks with surprise as Derek picks them both up and begins walking them over to the bed. He does it all without ever breaking eye contact. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's waist to prevent himself from slipping, but he didn't really need to. The alpha cups his ass with his large hands, giving Stiles all the support he could possibly need. Stiles trusts Derek not to drop him, so he doesn't hold on quite so tightly as Derek walks the last few metres between them and their destination.

Derek is uncharacteristically gentle as he lays Stiles out over the sheets and crawls onto the mattress with him. Stiles parts his legs to allow him to fit between them, and then Derek grins down at him, his teeth not quite human. "What do you want to do?"

Stiles frowns. "What d'you mean? Aren't we gonna have sex?"

More red appears around Derek's pupils, his hazel irises almost disappearing entirely. "We are, but it's up to you how we do it tonight."

It takes Stiles far too long to get what Derek means. When he does, he levers himself up to lean on his elbows. "You mean…?"

"D'you want me to fuck you again, or d'you want to fuck me this time?" Derek asks, leaving no room for doubt.

Stiles opens and closes his mouth several times like a fish, and then his mind catches up. "As much as I loved getting fucked, I wanna know what it's like the other way around," he reveals, the blood that's not currently filling his dick rushing to his cheeks. He can say anything here without judgment, he's certain of that, but for someone who was a virgin without much hope of losing said virginity just a few days ago, speaking frankly in an intimate situation like this is harder than he thought it would be. He does it, though. "If that's okay with you," he adds.

Derek's grin stretches his mouth wider. "It's definitely okay with me."

"You're really gonna let me fuck you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Uh…I dunno. I guess I thought you were just saying it before. You don't really seem the type to want something like that."

Derek rolls his eyes. "That's some closed-minded thinking there."

"I-It is?"

"Yes. Trust me—just because a guy has muscles doesn't mean he's only going to top, or even that he wants to top at all, and just because a guy's small doesn't mean he's going to bottom."

Stiles supposes Derek has a point. "Have you ever been fucked before?"

Derek shakes his head. "No. I haven't ever really thought about it before either. I experimented a bit when I was in New York, but it never went very far."

"Am I the first guy you've ever been with?"

"Like I said, I experimented," Derek reiterates, "but it never went further than some kissing and a bit of groping over clothes."

Stiles accepts this easily. He's actually glad, in a weird, possessive sort of way. "I guess we can both be each other's firsts then."

"I guess we can," Derek agrees.

"What if one of us likes one way more than the other, though?"

"Then we say so," Derek says confidently. "I'm not the best at relationships, but even I know from watching my parents together or Laura with her boyfriends that communication is important."

Stiles can't stop himself from giggling. "Wow, look at you," he teases. "Derek Hale, giving relationship advice. My little Sourwolf is growing up! I'm so proud!"

"Stiles?" Derek says.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Why don't you make me?" Stiles taunts, grinning himself now.

Derek rises to the challenge with alacrity. He captures Stiles' mouth in another kiss and rolls his hips down to rub their crotches together once more, wiping the grin from Stiles' lips and stealing the breath from his lungs. Neither of their erections flagged while they were talking, and Stiles clutches at Derek's shoulders as his mouth is plundered and he gets the taste of him on his tongue.

"You've gotta get naked, like, yesterday!" Stiles gasps, tugging on Derek's henley.

The alpha chuckles softly. "What's the magic word?"

"Ugh…please, okay? Wanna see you now that I'm actually allowed to ogle."

"Well, when you ask me so nicely, how can I say no?"

Derek leans back on his heels and grabs the hem of his henley. Still up on his elbows, Stiles watches rapturously as Derek peels the dark-purple fabric from his torso, revealing more and more tanned, hirsute skin that has him drooling like an absolute moron. When the henley is all the way off, leaving Derek naked from the waist up, Derek tosses it over the side of the bed without caring where it lands and then repositions himself to lie next to Stiles, shoulders slouched against the headboard. He tucks one hand behind his head, uses the other to undo the button of his jeans and then rests it by his hip. He raises an eyebrow at his bedmate as if to say, "Well?"

Eagerly taking over, Stiles moves to kneel between Derek's legs this time. His hands shaking from a mixture of nervousness and excitement, he pulls down the zipper of Derek's jeans and freezes when, instead of the tight underwear he'd been expecting, he is met with the sight of dark pubes.

"You're going c-commando?" he stammers.

"I usually do," Derek says cockily.

"That's…that's so incredibly hot."

"I thought you'd like it."

Derek doesn't urge Stiles to continue undressing him until he's ready, for which he is grateful. Once he finally is, his hands more steady now, he curls his fingers beneath the waistband of Derek's jeans and waits for the man to raise his hips so that he can pull the garment down his legs. Once the jeans have joined Derek's henley on the floor, Stiles looks back at the man lying completely naked in front of him like the most delicious all-you-can-eat buffet in existence. He almost doesn't know where to look first. It's overwhelming in the best way, and he spends several minutes just running his eyes over every inch of skin in sight. Derek lies there patiently all the while, still never pressuring Stiles to get on with it even though his need is evident.

Derek's chest is the first thing that arrests Stiles' attention. He has seen it before, of course, the most memorable occasion being when Kate Argent shot Derek with a wolfsbane bullet and Derek nearly made Stiles cut off his arm in the veterinary clinic soon after they met. It's as sexy as ever. Sexier, even. Until last weekend, they'd barely been around each other since Beacon Hills went quiet with the Alpha Pack's departure, but Stiles noticed idly when Derek stopped shaving his chest a little while ago. Back then, he'd only seen Derek's chest hair peeking out from the neckline of his henleys, so it hadn't affected him much. But now, something about it gets Stiles going. He wants to run his fingers through it and see if it's as soft as it looks.

So that's exactly what Stiles does.

He reaches out and stops with his hand an inch from Derek's right pec, waiting for the man to give him express permission to touch. When he gets it with a simple nod, he closes the remaining distance. His cock grows impossibly harder when he feels the hardness of Derek's pectoral muscle beneath his palm and the silkiness of his chest hair between his fingers.

"Dude…" Stiles whispers. They've barely begun, and already he feels like he could come.

Derek looks bemused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just super glad you stopped manscaping."

Derek looks down at himself and exhales a sharp breath of amusement through his nose. "I got lazy."

"Well, a hairy chest apparently turns me on like nobody's business now, so if you feel the urge to be productive with some shaving cream and a razor, don't."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Elsewhere, Stiles notes how the alpha's bicep bulges where he has his hand behind his head. He moves on from Derek's chest and squeezes it to see just how firm it really is. As expected, it's pretty damn firm. He has always known that Derek was strong and took good care of his body, and it's awesome to be able to fully enjoy the results of that now that they're together. He squeezes Derek's bicep again and then trails his hand down absentmindedly, stroking the tufts of fine hair in Derek's armpit. It seems ridiculous, but it really says something about how attracted he is to the werewolf that even his fucking armpit hair turns him on.

Returning to Derek's chest, Stiles brushes his pinky finger over Derek's left nipple and pauses when the alpha's breath hitches. "Sensitive?"

Derek nods jerkily. "Yeah."

This gives Stiles an idea. He rubs Derek's nipple with his pinky a couple more times and then leans in close, purses his lips and blows air across it. When it immediately tightens into a hard nub, he feels satisfaction and enough bravery to catch it between his teeth and worry at it at little. Derek thrusts out his chest in response and makes this quiet whining sound like an actual wolf, but instead of inspiring sympathy in Stiles like a wolf would, it inspires mischief.

He doesn't know where this burst of confidence comes from, and it probably won't last for long, but he attacks both of Derek's nipples with purpose and doesn't stop until they're red and sore-looking. When he pulls back, he blows on them once more, knowing that the spit he left on them will make his breath feel cold. Sure enough, Derek shivers and makes that whining sound again. It's music to Stiles' ears, and he really wants to know what else he can do to pull it out of his Sourwolf—and what other sounds he can get him to make too.

Stiles will make that his mission later, but for now he continues his exploration of Derek's body.

As he thought, once he is done with Derek's chest and moves lower, his confidence wanes a bit, but not enough to deter him.

He just goes slowly.

He traces the contours of Derek's abs and circles his index finger around his navel, ruffling the fine hairs there. The trail calls to him to go even further south, to reach what has been his main destination the whole time, the thing he has been ignoring because it's a major step. After taking a deep breath to steel himself, Stiles stares at Derek's rock-hard cock and, like with the rest of him, is amazed.

Stiles has seen other guys' erections before—he's a red-blooded teenage boy with access to the internet, thank you very much—but never in real life. He almost can't believe that he managed to fit Derek inside of his ass in the club. He doesn't have a ruler or any way to determine its true size—and wouldn't that be something, if he whipped out a tape measure and started measuring—but it's obvious that Derek has some girth and several inches on Stiles. If he had to guess, he'd say that Derek is around nine inches in total, and he's super thick.

At six and a half inches himself, Stiles' cock isn't anything to write home about, but he has always told himself that it would be enough to get the job done. Perhaps he should feel emasculated by Derek being so much bigger than him in all ways, but he doesn't. Maybe he's just too distracted for that, and he has good reason to be. He can't seem to tear his eyes away from the tip of Derek's cock, where his wrinkled foreskin still partially covers the head. Stiles himself is cut, so he has never had the opportunity to play with any foreskin. He never missed it or thought much about it before, but now that the opportunity is right in front of him, his curiosity reaches new heights.

A bead of pre-come forming at the slit of Derek's cock and dribbling down the shaft is what has Stiles springing into action. He hesitantly curls his hand around the werewolf's erection and gives it a slow stroke, testing to see if it feels much different than his own cock.

Oh boy, does it ever.

For one, it's a different angle.

It's also strange to hold something so thick that he is unable to touch his thumb to his middle finger.

Most striking of all, though, is how Stiles is able to stroke from the base to the tip without the aid of any lube. Derek's foreskin takes care of any issue he'd have had were Derek circumcised, the wrinkled skin gathering at the tip on the upstroke and peeling back to reveal the fat head when Stiles moves his hand down again. It's hynotising in a way, watching Derek's foreskin repeatedly hide the weeping head in a twisted adult version of Peekaboo.

As Stiles strokes his cock, Derek starts to buck his hips up into the human's grip. They soon find a rhythm with each other, Stiles stroking his hand down every time Derek thrusts up. Stiles flicks his eyes up to the alpha's face and is caught off-guard by the expression he finds there. He's never seen Derek look so heated and lustful, not even just before they made out on the sofa. Derek's mouth is open as he exhales slightly harsher breaths than usual, and the hazel of his irises is now completely erased by red, meaning that he's losing control of himself. Stiles feels proud that he was able to get such a reaction just with his hand, and that of course leads to him pondering the reaction he might get were he to use something else on Derek's cock.

There's only one way to find out.

Stiles slides further back on the bed and lies down on his front, bracketed by Derek's hairy thighs. This puts that gorgeous cock right in front of his face.

This close, Stiles can smell it, the musk that has accumulated around Derek's groin over the course of the day and the salt of Derek's pre-come. It makes Stiles' mouth water, and he just has to suck him, to finally taste him like he has wanted to for longer than he cares to admit.

He gives Derek one final stroke with his hand and then leaves it wrapped around the base. He angles the werewolf's cock down so that the head is in the perfect position to enter his waiting mouth, and then he descends on it. He doesn't anticipate Derek suddenly jerking upward, so he gags when the tip hits the back of his throat before he was ready. Derek apologises immediately, looking genuinely contrite, but once Stiles has recovered, his eyes drying, he reassures his Sourwolf that he's fine. He wants to try again, not deterred in the slightest.

Trusting that Derek has a hold of himself now, he seals his lips back around Derek's cock and swipes his tongue over the slit, tasting his pre-come. It's bitter but so, so good, purely because it came from Derek. Said alpha's hips twitch when Stiles repeats the action, but he doesn't move this time, allowing Stiles to do what he wants at his own pace.

After a minute or two, Stiles begins to bob his head up and down, gradually taking more and more of Derek into his mouth. He gags a second time when the head again reaches the back of his throat, but he was expecting it this time, so it's not as bad. He eases off a fraction and then attempts to deep-throat the alpha again, but it's a lost cause for now. He doesn't feel bad. It's only his first time giving a blowjob, and to start with a cock as substantial as Derek's will mean it'll take a lot of practice for Stiles to take him all the way down to the coarse pubes at the root.

With a final suck, Stiles releases Derek's cock with a wet pop and admires how it glistens with saliva. "Turn over," he rasps then, wanting to get on with the show. His own erection throbbing in the confines of his underwear practically demands it.

When Derek does so, getting onto his hands and knees, Stiles has to grip himself so that he doesn't blow his load prematurely. "Oh my God…"

Derek looks back at him over his shoulder. "What?"

"Your ass is fucking amazing!"

Derek smirks, pleased by the compliment. He shakes his hips slightly, teasing him. "I do a lot of squats."

"It really shows."

Stiles is back to just staring, unable to move. Derek's ass cheeks are both tight and round, the perfect bubble butt. They're hairy too, just like the rest of him. The dark hairs completely cover both cheeks and get more abundant close to the crack. When Derek arches his back, Stiles can just about see his tight little hole, although it's still half hidden in shadow. More hair surrounds it, and this just makes Stiles want to taste it as well. He's going to eat Derek's ass for all he's worth.

It's only when Derek shakes his ass at him again that Stiles regains enough control of his limbs to actually make good on his promise to himself. He reaches for Derek's hairy cheeks and spreads them apart, allowing him to see his hole in all its glory. He licks his lips as it clenches from being exposed to the air, and then he shoves his face between Derek's muscular globes and licks once, twice over his asshole. The taste is odd. It's like skin, but different at the same time. It's not bad, though, so Stiles licks around Derek's rim again and again and is delighted to discover that this is something else that elicits wolflike whines from the alpha.

"Stiles…" Derek moans, pushing his ass back onto Stiles' face. "So good…"

Stiles has to agree. He already loves eating ass, and he's barely begun. He feels like he could do it forever, but all too soon his jaw becomes sore and he's forced to call it quits.

"Don't stop," Derek practically whimpers, falling down to his elbows so that his ass is even better presented to Stiles.

"Sorry, had to," Stiles tells him, moving his lower jaw from side to side. "I'm definitely doing that again in the future, though, so don't worry."

"You'd better."

"It really felt that good?"

"You have no idea…s'fucking amazing," Derek replies, toes curling. "I'll show you next time."

Stiles is already looking forward to it. "So, you got any lube?"

"Bedside table. Top drawer."

Stiles leans over the side of the bed to retrieve it and doesn't miss that it's half empty when he has it in his hand. As he pops the cap, he pictures Derek jerking off in this very bed and makes a mental note to ask him to do that for him at some point. He squirts some lube out onto his fingers, rubs it between them and his thumb to warm it up a bit and then positions the tip of his index finger at Derek's hole. The hairs around it are still matted down with spit.

"You ready?"

"Yeah," Derek assents, his hands fisted in the sheets.

With care, Stiles slides his index finger up to the last knuckle inside Derek's asshole. It's so hot and tight, and it gets tighter still when Derek clenches around him. The alpha stays still for a moment, getting used to having something inside of him, and then he starts fucking himself on Stiles' finger.

Stiles understands why. He recalls how good it had felt when Derek fucked him with his fingers last weekend and wants to make Derek feel that good too. He curls his finger in search of that special bundle of nerves and grins to himself when he finds it with surprisingly little hassle. Derek cries out and his movements shudder to a halt.

"There it is," Stiles giggles. He fucks the bearded man with his finger and adds a second after a moment, beginning the process of stretching him open for his cock.

For the next few minutes, things continue like this. Stiles scissors his fingers apart and, after adding a third, decides that he can't wait any more.

"Please tell me I can fuck you now," he begs, desperate to get inside of his lover.

Derek nods ardently. "Yeah, wanna feel you."

"Thank fuck."

After removing his fingers and wiping them off on the bedspread, Stiles makes short work of getting naked as well, so hot and bothered that he doesn't possess the mental capacity to feel self-conscious. Then he squirts some more lube out onto his cock and slicks himself up.

"Can you turn back over?" he asks Derek. "I wanna see you."

"Sure."

Once Derek is in place, his legs spread invitingly and his erection red and angry-looking, Stiles balances himself by putting his left hand beside Derek's shoulder and uses his right to point the tip of his cock at Derek's hole. Derek wraps his legs around Stiles' hips, putting his cock right there.

Thanks to the rimming and fingering he gave him, it's easy for Stiles to push inside. There's a little resistance at first, but when the head pops past Derek's rim, the rest is smooth sailing. He watches Derek's face the whole time, prepared to stop if it looks like he's causing him any pain, but he doesn't have to. The werewolf's face is flushed and his skin shines with a light sheen of sweat, but Stiles doesn't see any pain in his expression. There's only pleasure. Stiles is glad. He'd have done it, but he thinks that having to stop now would've killed him.

When Stiles is fully sheathed in the tight heat of Derek's body, he stares down into Derek's red eyes and struggles to stay still. His orgasm is perilously close, something that would be humiliating if he couldn't tell that Derek won't last very long either when things get going.

After waiting for his orgasm to retreat as much as it can in a situation like this, Stiles starts to move. He's uncoordinated and awkward because this is his first time fucking someone, but Derek doesn't seem to mind. The werewolf lies there and stares up at Stiles with a combination of lust and affection, an expression that Stiles would love to get used to. He just has to lean down and connect their lips in another kiss. He moans into Derek's mouth when thick fingers wind through his hair and tug lightly on it, an attempt at spurring him to thrust faster.

"You don't have to be gentle," Derek murmurs, giving a more forceful tug.

"I don't wanna hurt you," Stiles whispers.

"You won't."

Stiles stares into Derek's face, searching for the truth of his words. He finds it, and with the next thrust he picks up the pace as much as he dares. His balls slap against the bottom of Derek's ass cheeks every time he fucks all the way inside, an obscene sound that echoes around the loft. There are other sounds too—the bed frame creaking; the wet squelch of lube as Stiles' cock slides in and out of Derek's hole; their heavy breathing and breathless moans. It's all too much, and just as he feared would happen, Stiles only lasts another few jerky thrusts before his orgasm is upon him.

Collapsing atop Derek, Stiles grinds his hips in small circles as he rides out the overwhelming pleasure, his face tucked into the alpha's sweaty neck.

When it's over, he feels guilty for coming before Derek did. He picks himself up again and is about to apologise, but then Derek reaches between them, takes himself in hand and jerks himself off quick and dirty, using his own pre-come as lube. Stiles winces as Derek's hole clenches tight as ever around him, his softening dick over-sensitive in the wake of his orgasm, but he doesn't move away. He wants Derek to come while he's inside of him. He has to know what that's like.

He gets his wish a minute later, when Derek howls and arches off of the bed. His huge cock pulses in his hand, painting his torso with jet after jet of thick jizz.

Stiles is shocked by how much there is, and when Derek's orgasm is over and he goes boneless beneath him, he wipes his finger through a glob of come and brings it to his mouth. He laps at it and, when the taste doesn't repulse him, he repeats the process again and again until Derek's hairy chest and abs are clean again.

It's then that Stiles pulls out of the werewolf's body and falls down next to him. He lies on his side and catches his breath. "That was amazing," he says, grinning like a goofball.

Derek hums and turns his head to meet his eyes. "Yeah, it was."

"I can't decide which I like better, though, topping or bottoming. They're both great."

"Who says you have to decide?" Derek smiles. "I liked both too, so we can just switch it up whenever we want."

Stiles' chest feels warm and tingly. "I'd like that."

The next half hour is spent with neither of them moving from the comfort of Derek's bed. Stiles really wants to just fall asleep there, but he knows he can't; his dad wouldn't approve.

"I should get home soon," he says sadly, sitting up and brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"Okay," Derek says, sitting up too.

Stiles watches as the alpha swings his legs off the bed, stands up and stretches his arms above his head. He admires how the muscles of Derek's back shift beneath his skin and how his ass moves in just the right way as he walks toward the bathroom.

"But first," the werewolf says, pausing in the doorway to look at Stiles, "how about we take a shower?"

* * *

- Monday, November 14th, 2011 -

The next week, Stiles doesn't think his life has ever been so good. Every weekday is spent at school with his new friends, where Scott and his old pack all leave him alone. Scott doesn't even look at him anymore, and while part of Stiles is still disappointed that his friendship with the other boy is apparently over for good, the rest of him is just happy to have people to hang out with who actually want him around. His dad still works a lot, but now that the sheriff is in the know and there are no more secrets between them, he makes an effort to spend more time with his son.

But best of all is Stiles' relationship with Derek. Stiles spends most evenings with him, either at Derek's loft or at his own house, as per his dad's request. Stiles was concerned the first time his dad came home to find Derek still sitting with Stiles in the living room, but the sheriff had just asked if Derek was staying for dinner and left them to it.

All in all, Stiles is happier than he remembers being in a long time, and he owes it all to Derek. He can't wait to see where the future will take them. They'll have more battles to fight, there's no doubt about that, not with Beacon Hills being a literal beacon now, but Stiles knows that they'll get through it. After all, they all have things to fight for now. Stiles will fight with everything he has to protect those he loves, and Derek will fight just as hard for him. They'll handle whatever comes their way.

Together.