Work Header


Chapter Text

January 16th, 2011-Tuesday

From where he was spread out on the top of his porch roof Stiles watched the stars, a red bull can balanced precariously on his chest as he listened to his father clean up after dinner. The dishes were normally Stiles' chore but his father had been going out of his way to be nice to his brooding son the last week and a half. Since The Breakup.

Danny. Christ. What a nightmare that had been. The wounds of The Breakup were still fresh enough to occupy his mind when Stiles wasn't paying enough attention to keep them out. It was almost pathetic how Lifetime Channel their whole relationship had been. The only two gay teens in school finding friendship and support through each other, only to have it develop into something more.

It could have lasted, Stiles really thought it could have. They had been good together, they had been happy. But, no, Stiles had to go and ball it up by being an effing werewolf.

Like, with teeth and glowing eyes and everything.

The teenager sighed and slid a hand over his shorn hair in irritation. Being a werewolf wasn't really that terrible. There were no hunters in Beacon Hill and as long as they kept everything low key, Stiles and his dad had managed pretty damn well. And, well, with his dad being Sheriff they had a secure safety net. Stiles was practically a Daft Punk song; everything about him was harder, better, faster in every way. He should have been the fucking king of goddamn Beacon High instead of being regarded as the somewhat amusing nobody.

Honestly though, it wasn't like Stiles was really picked on. Only by Jackson and his goons (which was probably going to be way worse now that Stiles had broken his best friend's heart) but that had pretty much been ongoing since he'd first moved here. No, Stiles wasn't popular, but he had Scott and he'd had Danny and the Delta hadn't needed anything else.

He'd always been attracted to both sexes; girls and boys both excited him. And when Danny Māhealani, the Hawaiian adnois he was, had taken an interest in him, Stiles had jumped at the chance. It had been wonderful. Danny was smart and funny and...well...he wanted to date Stiles. There wasn't exactly a line for that. But then the time came that Danny had wanted to take things to the next level and it wasn't that Stiles hadn't wanted to. He was a teenage werewolf, it was like being a horny teenager times ten. But there was no way in hell that the human wouldn't have noticed that something was different about Stiles, and Danny would have definitely noticed the fact that he self-lubricated and had a few extra (and missing) parts.

Because Stiles was a Delta. Not an Alpha or a Beta or even an Omega – a fucking Delta, the only ranking in werewolf society that was determined by gender. Unlike humans who had only two genders, werewolves had three; male, female and thirds. Thirds were not quite intersexed, not quite hermaphrodites, physically with the appearance of males and capable of producing semen they could only carry – never sire – pups.

It was a biological and genetic nightmare and a very bored Stiles had once tried to figure out the evolutionary purposes or Punnett square that shit but it only left him more confused. And while a third could technically become an Alpha or an Omega, neither of his parents had ever heard of one. Thirds stayed Deltas, stayed breeders, whose only purpose in life was to find a nice big, strong Alpha or Beta to breed them like the bitch he apparently was.

Try explaining that to your human boyfriend.

Fuck that, try explaining that to anyone.

Danny had taken the rejection badly. Stiles couldn't blame him. Sure the human had been tired of all the secrets between them, always trying to get Stiles to open up. But they were secrets that Stiles could really never tell him, so he'd done the only thing he really could do and let Danny go.

Stiles let out a huff of frustration.

So that left him to either non-sexual relationships with humans or else limiting himself strictly to his own kind.

That last one wouldn't seem so damn daunting if it wasn't for the fact that Stiles had never even smelled another of his kind, much less met one. As far as he knew, he and his dad could be the only two left in the world. And Deltas were always mated to Alphas in the stories Stiles' mother had told him – it was the only happy ending any of them ever seemed to have. When he was little, he used to dream about meeting his Alpha. But as the years went by and the Delta had failed to meet any werewolves besides his father, Stiles had pretty much given that fantasy up.

Besides, one of his mother's fathers had been a Delta and he'd mated with a Beta. Both his parents had been Betas. Stiles didn't need an Alpha for happiness. He would do fine with a Beta.

Of course – that all hinged on somehow meeting other werewolves. Which seemed pretty dreary, considering their was no OKCupid for the supernatural. Well not any real, non-batshit crazy ones. Stiles was going to die from sexual frustration, he was sure of it. Dead by eighteen by a case of fatal blue balls.

Led Zeppelin's Kashmir blared into existence and Stiles jumped slightly, automatically catching the red bull before it could fall and listened shamelessly to his father's conversation.

“Sheriff Stilinski.”

Hey, Sheriff. I'm afraid we've got a body up at the Preserve.”

“A body?”

Yeah. It's bad, John. Better get up here before the press gets wind.”

“How bad is bad?”

We only found half of her.”

“...shit. I'm on my way. Call in everybody.”

From where he was laying, Stiles jumped to his feet, eyes wide in excitement. Holy shit, a murder! In Beacon Hills. But...but...nothing ever happened in Beacon Hills!

“Hey, kiddo.” His father's head popped over the porch railing and stared up at him. “I know you heard that. So I don't need to iterate how much crap you're gonna be in if I find you've left this house, do I?”

Stiles sputtered, pressing a hand to his heart in mock pain. “Dad, please! What kind of terrible son do you take me for? I'll be right here, where it's safe.” At his father's disbelieving look he shot him a three finger salute. “Scouts honor. Right here.”

A finger pointed threateningly up at him. “Right there, Stiles.”

“ want me to wait on the roof? What did I do to get inside privileges revoked this time?”

John rolled his eyes before slipping off the porch completely and jogging towards his police car. “In the house, Stiles!”

“Going in right now.” He called back, already heading back in his window. The Delta waited until he could no longer hear his father's engine before popping back out and sprinting towards Scott's house. There was no way in hell he was going to miss the only thing exciting to happen in ever.

After a short, unexpected almost encounter with a baseball bat, Stiles managed to drag Scott out into the preserve. His friend was nervous but the Delta didn't really feel worried. At worst there was a crazy dude out there hacking people up and Stiles was confident enough in his abilities to protect them if needed. Besides, with his pops out in the woods the chances that whoever did this was going to escape his dad's keen nose was pretty slight. Speaking of which...

“We need to go this way.”

“Why?” Scott frowned, cocking his head to the side in confusion before nodding towards the opposite direction Stiles was pointing. “You were dead set on going that way earlier.”

“Um,” because he could smell the potent scent of his dad drifting on the breeze, “my Jedi senses are tinging.” He tapped the side of his nose. “And right now they're telling me to go thataway.”

Plus he needed to stay downwind or this was gonna be a one hell of a short trip. Scott just rolled his eyes and followed. “I still can't believe you got me out of bed for this.”

“Shut up, man. You weren't even in bed.”

“I was about to be! And do you know what will happen if my mom knows I left again while she was on shift?”

The Delta rolled his eyes. “Whine much?”

“Seriously, Stiles! She's still pissed about what happened with the Jacobs' lawn ornaments.”

“While a delicious prank, we deny all acknowledgement.”

“Like she doesn't know. I live surrounded by old people, who else is gonna make plastic deer hump-”

Stiles snorted, gleeful at the memory. “It was beautiful, wasn't it? Bambi meets the Joy of Sex.”

“Dude, you're always getting me in trouble.” Scott declared grumpily. There was a rather strong undercurrent of fondness to it, though, and his friend was practically bleeding out the scent of amusement so – Stiles froze and slapped his hand against his mouth, turning quickly so that Scott couldn't see his face.

There was a sharp ping of pain as his fangs tore at his bottom lip. What the fuck? Why the hell was he wolfing out? The Delta blinked hard, trying to rid his eyes of the blue glow he knew they must have.

“Stiles? What's wrong?” Scott asked worriedly, coming up to stand at his side, a grounding hand resting on his friend's elbow. He was worried about a panic attack – but this wasn't a panic attack by any means.

“Nothing! I'm fine, just – just bit my tongue.”

Something was wrong, something was very wrong. There was blood in the air, wolf blood. Stiles spun and took a few shaky steps towards where the smell was the strongest. He'd been upwind of it before but now it was almost overwhelming.

And then, there she was.

Stiles felt like he was going to throw up. Whoever this girl had been, she'd been one his kind. The first werewolf other then his family that Stiles had ever seen and she was dead. Dead and beautiful, even if there was only half of her there. There was a flash of light, almost blinding to the wolf's enhanced night vision, as Scott flipped on his phone's flashlight.

His friend let out a yelp, jumping away from the body as if he'd been physically struck and Stiles turned too late to catch him.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled, eyes wide as he watched the human tumble ass over head down the embankment. He started to leap down after him but stopped, eyes flickering to stare at the woods around them. Something was out there, Stiles could smell it, just underneath the scent of dead leaves and blood. It was strong and acidic, like sick or rotted meat. He'd never smelt anything like it before but it made his hair stand on end, every instinct on high alert.

And then Stiles saw it. It was huge – easily twice the size his father had ever been transformed and more wolf then human. Big and black, with claws that hung down to his thighs and red eyes that cut through the night. An Alpha. Holyfuckinghell, a fucking Alpha.

Stiles felt frozen in place, an odd mix of fear and fascination keeping him from moving. But then it was on Scott – Stiles had barely seen it move! – and the Delta would be damned if he was going to stand by and let his best friend be eaten by some fucking interloper.

With a growl Stiles threw himself down, landing on the Alpha's back and digging in with teeth and claws. The sound the bigger werewolf let out made everything in Stiles shrink, made him want to roll over and present his belly – present everything – if that meant it would leave him alive. But Scott was still screaming, trapped between its jaws and Stiles held on, digging deeper even as his own pathetic growls were drowned out.

The Alpha twisted and a clawed hand dug into the soft flesh on his back and threw him bodily away. Stiles rolled with the impact, already screaming for Scott to run and he hoped the human was smart enough to listen because he didn't have the time to check. The Alpha would be coming for his blood now. There was no way in hell it was going to let a challenge like that go unanswered, much less from a fucking breeder.

Stiles ran faster then he'd ever had in his life, the woods blurring around him as he barely managed to jump logs and miss narrow tree trunks. He could hear the thing crashing through the woods behind him. Even before it pounced the teenager knew he wouldn't make it.

Stiles managed one desperate, winded howl for help before the Alpha slammed into his back with the strength of a freight train. He fought like a cornered cat, all claws and limbs as he desperately tried to keep the snapping maul away from his neck. Thick claws dug into his side and Stiles screamed, his voice breaking into a whine as they dug deeper, clunking painfully against his rib cage.

The scent of his blood filled the air, utterly repugnant to Stiles but above him the Alpha went still. A large, blunted nose pressed against the open wound and Stiles' felt his eyes roll backwards as pain blossomed along the length of his side. The nose slid up his chest, dragging his t-shirt along until the fabric slipped off, and a cold nose was pressed against his neck. The Alpha let out a low rumble, as if pleased, before nudging Stiles' head to tilt even further back. The Delta obeyed, terror curling in his stomach. He shivered as the Alpha took deep huffing breaths of his scent, nose swirling over his pulse point. Stiles let out a whimper, squirming, as a warm tongue licked at his neck. It was long and wide enough that the muscle could almost completely encircled the smooth column. He let out another whine as the tips of teeth grazed at his neck, opening small cuts.

There was a huff of breath along the abused skin before the tongue returned, lapping up the blood that trickled down his neck. Stiles let out a low moan, shuddering as his stomach tightened in sudden pleasure at the attention. He titled his neck further back, hips twitching. It wasn't until he felt a frighteningly hard, obscenely large pressure against his leg that Stiles came back to himself.

His eyes snapped open (when had he closed them?) and the Delta let out a snarl, slamming his forehead into the Alpha's and renewing his efforts to escape. His actions earned him a back hand to the face that sent him tumbling onto his side. A large hand pinned him by the back of his neck, claws digging in warningly as its twin yanked his hips up. Stiles felt his eyes widen in horrible realization as a heavy body settled against his back.

Oh god, oh no nononononono -

And then suddenly the weight was off his back.

Stiles scrambled to his feet, chest heaving as he watched the Alpha and another werewolf – a Beta – roll in a violent parody of pup play. A Beta was still nothing against an Alpha though, not alone, and Stiles desperately tried to force himself to rejoin the fight. Whoever the Beta was he'd saved Stiles life, but the young wolf couldn't bring himself to leap back into the fray, the fear he felt was too complete. There was a glint of metal and then the Alpha let out an ungodly loud bellow, spinning as it tried to pull out a nasty looking boot knife from its back.

“Come on!” The Beta snarled, grabbing Stiles by the hand and physically pulling him away from the spinning Alpha. The teenager tried to keep up, but Stiles' knees kept buckling. He didn't know if it was the pain or the shock but he could hardly run, stumbling every few seconds. The Beta growled low before doubling back and scooping the teen up. Stiles let out a choked sound, hands instinctively circling around the Beta's neck as he surged forward into a neck-breaking sprint.

Stiles clutched onto a leather jacket, staring over the older werewolf's shoulder, as an earthshaking howl erupted around them. Stiles pressed his face against the other wolf's shoulder (fucking crazy, all of this, who the fuck was this guy even?) and held on even tighter. He tried not to think of what would happen if the Alpha caught them again. Or if it had gotten Scott – or...or his father. Oh god, his dad would have been drawn to his cry for help, what if he was killed? It would all be Stiles' fault, because he just had to go fucking look and -

The Beta came to an abrupt halt and Stiles let out a startled sound as he was placed on his feet and suddenly bare-chested, the remains of his shirts and hoodie being tossed carelessly to the side, before being lifted once more. He sputtered in shock, gripping at the Beta' shoulders for balance even as he stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell?”

“He'll track the blood.” The Beta growled out and Stiles paled in realization. He glanced over the older wolf's shoulder, scanning for any sign of the Alpha. He could still hear it, though it's frantic movements were growing more and more distant. A splash of cold water jolted the Delta's attention frontward again. The Beta was dragging them through a stream, wadding until the water was shoulder deep and Stiles scooped up handfuls in an attempt to remove both the blood on his neck and the Alpha's scent. They must have been in the water for a good mile or so before the other wolf finally crossed to the other side.

“I think I can walk now,” Stiles said softly, feeling more then a little bit awkward. The Beta gave him a sharp, evaluating look before setting him back down on his feet. Blue eyes glanced down at him, sweeping over his frame in a once over before large hands gently prodded at the healing punctures along his ribs. The Delta allowed it, though every muscle in his body was tense. He had no idea who this Beta was, or what was happening, but he had saved Stiles' life and for the moment he was willing to go on faith.

The teenager took the moment to observe his rescuer. The Beta was older then him by several years, with dark hair and strong features. He'd reverted almost completely back to his human form, leaving only the blue eyes of a natural born and a slight point to his ears. He had a heavier build then his father, with broad shoulders and muscled forearms that could easily be seen through his jacket.

When the wolf reached for his neck though, Stiles drew the line. It was subtle, nothing more then a shifting of the muscles but more then half of communication with their kind was non-verbal and the Beta drew back. The expression on the older wolf's face was unreadable, thick brows furrowed low.

“'re a Delta.”

“Congratulations, you know your sexes.” Stiles snapped, feeling ruffled by the seemingly non-sequitur.

The Beta just stared at him for a moment longer before turning and shouldered off his jacket. Stiles caught it on reflex, cocking his head to side questioningly as he stared at the other wolf.

He shrugged. “Its cold out.”

“Not for us.”

“You're injured.”

Stiles ran a hand over the mostly healed stomach wounds. “Its almost healed.”

The Beta let out a low growl before advancing slightly on the smaller wolf. “Put it on.”

“Okay, Jesus!” Stiles shrank back, a hand up placatingly as he slipped on the jacket. Admittedly, he was warmer but Stiles hadn't really been cold. The Beta's scent, thick and heady, surrounded him, overtaking his own and the teenager wondered if that had been the point. Regardless, “I'm really freakin' tired of random werewolves growling at me today. Been waiting my whole life to meet others and I gotta say; serious let down.”

The Beta looked at him oddly. “You've never met one of your own before?”

Before he could answer they both froze, heads snapping to the opposite side of the bank. The Alpha was advancing. The Beta cursed, grabbing Stiles by the wrist and taking off again. The teenager was able to keep up this time, letting the older werewolf lead him through twists and turns in the forest that seemed to imply a deep familiarity that made Stiles nervous. This wasn't this strange wolf's first time in Beacon Hills. That was worrying, but he seemed just as intent on getting away from the Alpha as the Delta was and so he followed his lead, sprinting hard.

The Beta skidded to a stop, yanking back a thorny branch of a dense thicket. Stiles dropped to his knees and nearly dived in. The Beta followed seconds later, the branch snapping back into place with a wicked hiss. There was only a small, narrow hollow in the thicket, with barely enough room for the two. The Delta was partially underneath the Beta's form, the older wolf frantically covering them with piles of dead foliage.

The heady smell of incense-cedar and white pine, mixed with greenbrair and the potent scent of dead leaves filled Stiles' lungs. He lay still, straining his senses for any sign of the Alpha. The Beta's breaths were warm puffs against Stiles' ear and the Delta stiffened as the wolf shifted, tucking Stiles even further against his side.

“Calm down.” The Beta's voice was hushed, almost beyond even a werewolf's range, but his mouth was pressed so close that Stiles could feel his lips brush against the shell of his ear with each word. “Take deep breaths.”

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes as he tried to quiet his rapid heartbeat. He had almost succeeded in reaching some realm of control when a low, furious growl echoed through the forest. Panic blossomed anew. There was no way the Alpha wouldn't find them if he came close. He'd fucking kill them, tear them apart. Oh god, Stiles was gonna die a virgin. He was gonna die. His dad was probably dead and Scott and it was all his fault.

Stiles' hadn't realized that he'd latched a death grip on the other wolf until the hold on him shifted and the Delta felt a sharp pressure on the back of his neck. The pseudo-scruffing cleared some of the panic in his brain and Stiles managed to retract his claws from where they'd been digging into flesh.

The Beta drew him closer still, the hold on the back of his neck tightening as another large, wide hand gripped his hip. The Alpha was close and coming closer and the Delta hid his face against the soaked fabric of the Beta's t-shirt. Everything inside him was telling him to runrunrunrun but he knew there was no way he could outrun an Alpha - no way to escape. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to keep enough control over his instincts to keep from giving their hiding place away.