Work Header

Hunter's Moon

Chapter Text

Derek woke with a groan, feeling the almost forgotten sensation of need course through his veins.

Afterimages of the his dream played across his mind: pale skin, dotted with moles and an angular smile with pink lips that tasted like dark red wine; wiry muscles that held him close; long fingered hands that touched and caressed him like the ivory keys of a piano.

Eyes the color of fine whiskey that looked at Derek with love and affection.

Goosebumps raced across Derek's skin.

Derek's eyes snapped open in alarm as he felt the faintest stirring in his loins. Reaching down into the front of his pajama pants, Derek was relieved to find softness.

There had been a time, when he was younger, when his sexuality had been used against him and during the long years of his captivity, Derek had steadily eliminated any weakness that would make him vulnerable to the Argents.

The light of a false dawn lit the horizon through his window as Derek climbed out of bed, the long muscles of his torso flexing underneath golden skin.

When his mate came for him, Derek planned to be ready.



Gabryjel "Stiles" Stilinski looked at his father with exasperation and said, "Dad, you know what the doctor said! And I'm pretty sure donuts weren't on that list of healthy foods he gave you!"

Sheriff John Stilinkski looked at his son from his seat at the kitchen table. An empty plate with a forgotten bit of frosting and some sprinkles sat caddy corner to his cup of coffee.

Popping the last bite into his mouth, the Sheriff stood up from his chair in order to hug his son. A crumb from the treat clung to the Sheriff's lips as he manfully swallowed the evidence, his very demeanor suggesting that nothing short of torture would make him admit to eating contraband.

"Stiles! You're here early! Traffic must have been light," his dad responded as he enfolded his son into his embrace.

"Don't even try it. I just saw you eat a donut! There's still evidence on your face," Stiles said hotly.

Wiping away the evidence, the Sheriff looked at his son and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Stiles groaned and collapsed into the other kitchen chair opposite from where his dad had been sitting.

"You know that you have to eat healthy, Dad. I want you to be around for any potential grandkids," Stiles said.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, used to his son complaining about his health. His eyes skipped with practiced ease over the always empty chair that stood at the foot of the rectangular table.

"Stiles- I'm as fit as a horse. And what's all this talk of you having kids lately? You just moved back home. Just because you graduated college doesn't mean that you have to rush through all the other milestones. You're only twenty-three for Chrissake," the Sheriff grumpily replied. "Do you want coffee or orange juice? I went shopping yesterday so there's also eggs and bread if you want breakfast. How's what's her face, anyway? That girl you've been seeing... Emma? Emmaline? Ember?"

Opening the fridge while talking, the Sheriff stuck his head inside, before peering at his son over the door.

Stiles rolled his brown eyes, an exact imitation of his father's expression from just a moment before.

"You need to go see the doctor again if you're forgetting stuff that easily. It's Emily, dad. And I ate on the way here. I thought I might as well go in with you today and just fill out the necessary paperwork before I start officially next week. Jordan mentioned something about me peeing in a cup," Stiles said. "By the way, I broke up with Emily, so it's not like me having kids is anywhere on the horizon."

The Sheriff smiled before coughing and trying to look sympathetic. "I'm sorry to hear that Stiles. Elizabeth was a nice girl."

Stiles sighed and got up to take the orange juice container out of his father's hand.

"You have off tomorrow, right? I'll make pancakes and that bacon you're most likely hiding behind the salad container. Enjoy it because you're not getting anything like it when I go shopping next week," Stiles warned, pouring the juice into a glass he got from the cupboard.

"When will you be getting your own place again, kid?" The Sheriff downed the rest of his coffee before asking his son that question.

"When I get married, pops, and not a second before." Stiles replied. "After all, who else is going to make sure that you're eating healthy and taking care of yourself?"

"Come on. I'm gonna be late if we dilly dally any longer around here," the Sheriff groused. "We can carpool today since you did all that driving up from Berkeley."

With a nod, Stile put his glass in the sink and headed into the garage. With a grunt of surprise, he felt his dad pull him into a harder embrace.

"I missed you, kid," the Sheriff muttered into Stiles' hair.

With a smile, Stiles leaned in close and closed his eyes. He had missed this- the feeling of home.

"I missed you too, dad." Despite all the great times Stiles had had at college, he was glad to be home.

Stiles pulled away first, ignoring the suspicious hint of moisture in his own eyes. Reaching for the keys to the patrol car, skipping over the identical keys to his jeep which were labelled "Mom", Stiles opened the door to the garage.

Giving his dad time to gather himself, Stiles said with a smirk, "I'll warm up the car for you! Can't have those old bones creaking, now can we?"