Stiles had envisioned the aftermath of a witch attack to include everything from cursed as a frog to death, but never was it waking up in the back seat of his jeep, under the hands of Derek and Isaac.
Which was only slightly stranger than watching Scott try to drive his jeep.
“Damn it, Scott! Stop grinding her gears! She needs to be treated as a lady!”
“Looks like sleeping beauty’s awake,” Stiles heard Isaac say over him. “Good. I thought you were going to drool in my lap.”
“Um, I'm not saying you're a lumpy pillow dude, but why is my head in your lap? Or better question, why is Derek holding my ankles?” Stiles asked, looking down his body at Derek’s hand wrapped around the skin right above his sock line, looking like he rather be anywhere but there.
Isaac answered, lightly squeezing his hand on Stiles neck, “It's the only thing to stop you from screaming.”
“Screaming? What screaming?”
Instead of verbally answering Stiles’ question, Derek removed his hand from Stiles’ leg, and an instantaneous sharp pain, much like a charlie horse, ran through his leg, causing him to jack-knife up, pulling Isaac's hand off of him. Fiery pain radiated throughout every nerve of his body. Then suddenly it was gone, leaving Stiles twitching on Derek and Isaac's laps, much like one would think a victim of electrocution would look like.
“Okay, guys never do that again!” Scott yelled from the front seat, “Or, at least wait until I am not driving a car the sticks in second!”
Stiles realized he must have been screaming the whole time, because his throat burned when he retorted with, “She wouldn't stick if you knew how to drive a stick shift, Scott.”
“Stop talking, Stiles, you sound like shit,” Scott ordered, as he poorly down-shifted until the Jeep just decided to give up and die in Deaton's parking lot.
“Oh, thank god, we're here,” Isaac breathed in relief, opening the door.
“How am I going to get out of here?” Stiles asked. He never wanted to feel that pain again.
“Same way we got you in,” Isaac answered, grabbing Stiles under his armpits and sliding out, pulling Stiles with him. Derek slid out last, holding on to his ankles. Then, with a little hand holding from Derek, Stiles found himself on his own feet, a little wobbly from the pain, but otherwise good.
“Come on, let’s see if Deaton can help break the curse you got yourself into,” Derek said, walking forward, pulling Stiles along like a puppy that doesn't want to walk on his leash. Isaac, holding Stiles’ other hand, followed in some sort of odd game of follow the leader.
“Why is it Stiles’ fault? Stiles was kidnapped, remember?”
“Stiles is also annoyingly talking about himself in the third person,” Isaac said to the group at large.
“But I have to argue my innocence! I had nothing to do with this, like some Grumpywolf thinks.”
Ahead of them, Scott used his key to unlock the door to the clinic. “Deaton said he'll meet us in the examination room.”
“Goody, it's my turn to see the witch-vet-doctor,” Stiles said with a groan.
“That's the odd thing, I don't know. I remember I was unlocking my front door, and then waking in the woods, groggy. Umm, I remember she kept saying she needed something from me, but never said what.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
“Yeah, brown hair, straight, longish, and about Allison's height. She looked plain. Not charmed, witch-hot, that's for sure, more like plain wallflower. Kind of reminded me of Becky from Supernatural.”
“I can't believe you watch that show,”
Looking at Derek in mock horror, “You have seen the pretty they parade on that show weekly, right? Hello! Dean's abs, Cas’ voice! You would see eye-to-eye with Sam and all his man pain.”
“If we can get back to the problem at hand?” Deaton broke in, “What happened next?”
“She was adding things to a bowl, but I don't know what. It wasn't like she was running a witchy cooking show, but she was walking toward me with a wicked looking knife when pack came to the rescue.”
“So you broke into her ritual,” Deaton looked at the weres around him. “I don't think your curse has anything to do with that. Then what happened?”
“She got really angry, like every evil female villain ever. And, said something about my guard dogs -”
“She said that she didn't know your guard dogs would come to protect you,” Isaac broke in,
“Then yelled something as she flung a power at Stiles, Derek and I, then Stiles started screaming.”
“It was horrible,” Scott said softly, “I thought you were going to die, dude.” Scott gave Stiles his best sad puppy eyes. Stiles would have hugged him if not for each arm being held by a werewolf, keeping him from slipping into pain.
“Isaac and I ran to Stiles, and he stopped screaming once our hands where on him. By then, he was passed out,” Derek continued. “Whenever we removed a hand from him, he would scream again.”
“It's worse when we both remove our hand from him,” Isaac added, “and it has to be on the skin. If touch him on an area with clothes, he’s still in pain.”
“It's bad too. I would think it's what the Cruciatus curse would feel like, if, you know, Harry Potter was real.” Stiles found it was hard to talk with his hands not gesturing in the air.
“Do any of you remember what she said?” Four heads shook in the negative, “Can you take me to where this happened, to look around? Maybe I can find some more answers.”
“Scott can take you. I have Erica and Boyd watching, in case the witch comes back,” Derek said.
“But, you said, you don't think the ritual has anything to do with this,” Stiles pointed out.
“No I don't. From what you told me she performed this spell as a knee jerk reaction. For a spell to last, you need concentration. Something you don't have when you are running for your life.”
“What does that mean?” Stiles asked.
“I think the spell will just wear off, with no focal point. It's being held together by simple power alone. To find out how powerful the witch is, we might not have to find her, just see what she was trying to do.”
“So you're saying we just have to wait it out?” Isaac’s voice sounded like this was the last place he wanted to be. Stiles was right there with him. Being attached to the Sourwolf for an undetermined amount of time was not how he wanted to spend his summer, especially when said Sourwolf had the power to cause unexpected reactions in Stiles’ pants at will.
“Yes, and until then you are going to have to stay with Derek and Isaac, and try to stay in contact with them.”
“Trust me doc, I don't want to feel that again.”
“Good, because I fear the pain, over time, could drive you crazy or kill you,” Deaton warned the three.
“How long?” That was Derek, gruff and to the point.
“Could be a few hours, could be up to a week. I don't think, for what you told me, she would be able to hold it for longer.”
“What do we do until we are de-cursed?” Stiles asked. He really didn't want this to last for days.
“We're going to my place. Scott, take Deaton to where we found Stiles. And have Boyd drive my car home. I don't trust you with it after seeing you drive Stiles’ jeep.”
“It's not my fault that the car sticks in second,” Scott protested.
“Only for you, Scott,” Stiles said automatically. “Wait, Derek I am not going to stay in your hobo dwelling, we can stay with Scott.”
“I could remove my hand too.”
“Oh boy, I always wanted to live like a homeless runaway. What are we waiting for? I don't want the rats getting the good scavenged mattress.”
Stiles didn't remember when it closed down, he had stopped going when his mother died. But he saw the boarded windows when he and Scott went downtown for ice cream, the first summer their parents let them bike out of their neighborhood. He asked his father about it when he got home. His dad's face looked somber when he told Stiles that the owner had passed on.
Appears that the owner was another victim of the Hale fire, Derek's grandmother, Abigail Hale.
Derek unlocked the storefront door, leading the other two in and letting Isaac close the door behind him. From the pale streetlight peeking in, Stiles saw the store still contained volumes upon volumes of old dusty books. The smell of old paper and leather brought back memories of his mother reading to him and the other four year-olds that gathered at her feet. His mother was full of life until the very end.
“Come on, the stairs are in the back, and watch your step. I haven't cleaned this place out yet.” Derek pulled them forward walking in between stacks of books and bookcases. Stiles would stumble occasionally, because, hello, no werewolf eyesight. But, Derek just let him right himself and continued on.
The back stairs, Derek had told them, lead to a large loft that used to be the home for the owner of the shop. “Grandma Hale lived in Hale house with the others but,” Derek paused, “she had the old loft remodeled for a graduation gift for Laura, so she could learn to live without a pack around her, before she went to college.”
Needless to say Laura never got to use the loft, or finish school in Beacon Hills.
As a loft, the place was certainly roomy. There was a good-sized kitchenette to the right of the door and underneath the port window opposite of the door was a large king sized bed. Stiles would bet good money that Derek had that bed brought here just for him.
The TV on the wall to the left was a new flat screen, and from the blue sectional, Stiles didn't buy Derek's 'I want a lair to brood in my emo-ness' one bit. The man had been planning a pack hideout if he ever saw one.
“Wow, nice man-cave Derek. Or is it a wolf cave? Pack cave?”
“Still can remove my hand,” Derek said letting his fingers twitch over Stiles’ skin.
“Okay, okay. I see when a man can't take a joke,” Stiles tried to give the slowdown motion, but gave up, when he couldn't move the other two's arms with him.
“So what, we wait? Watch TV?” Isaac asked, putting down Stiles’ to-go bag. Every human that ran with werewolves, who had a tendency to destroy clothes faster than Lydia could shop, needed to be prepared. Scott had his naked ass saved from getting an indecent exposure arrest on more than one occasion.
“I don't think Deaton will get a hold of us until tomorrow. For now, we're going to bed,” Derek spoke in his I'm-the-Alpha-and-this-is-final voice.
“Sleep together as in... that?” Stiles motioned to the bed. No, the sex platform, the thing was too big to be made with any chaste thoughts in mind.
“I am not going to stay awake for a week, because you are a blushing virgin,” Derek moved them to the dresser.
“I'm with Derek, at least tomorrow will get here faster if we sleep,” Isaac said.
Pulling out two pairs of sleep pants with his free hand, Derek tossed them on the bed. Great, now all they had to do was undress and redress, without letting go of each other. Sure, that should be easy.
“Okay, we can do this one at a time?” Isaac asked, apparently on the same wavelength as Stiles.
“Sounds fine to me. Stiles slide your hand to my back.” Derek pulled up his shirt, exposing as much skin as he could. Even so, Stiles still had to move fast, since there was not a direct path of skin. The pain was sharp and fast, like cutting his hand on a kitchen knife, only to have it heal right away. Must be how the werewolves felt when they injured themselves, he mused.
With both his hands free, Derek kicked off his shoes, before going for the button on his jeans.
“Whoa, slow down there! You're just going to get naked!”
Derek sent Stiles a backward glare, which spoke volumes; however it was Isaac that voiced what must have been Derek's thoughts.
“I am not sleeping in my jeans! You see people undress all the time in the locker room, just pretend you're there.”
“Yeah, but I am not touching them, and they’re not,” don't say mega hot “smoking hot.”
“Just close your eyes if you have a problem,” Isaac sounded bored already, and Derek didn't wait for Stiles to protest anymore, shucking his jeans and underwear in one go. Forget the curse, the feel of the Derek's back mussels move under Stiles’ hand was enough to short circuit his brain. It also didn't help knowing Derek was a boxer-briefs man, or that he had a small birthmark over his left ass cheek. Grabbing a pair of black lounge pants, Derek pulled the pants on before Stiles could give into temptation and slide his fingers over the birthmark.
Swallowing any drool that may or may not be pooling in his mouth, Stiles needed to take his mind off Derek’s hot body, that he was still touching. “Umm, so, we're going to what, hold hands while we sleep?” Yea, brilliant move, pointing out sleeping together, that’s sure not to bring up any dirty images.
“No, it would just be easier if we sleep shirtless,” Derek said, leaving himself in nothing but loose cotton sleep pants. Clearly, Derek had no issues showing off abs that would cause a nun to have a wet dream.
“Fine with me,” Stiles heard Isaac say. Guiding Stiles hand to mimic the other, Stiles now found himself with two handfuls of sizzling man flesh. Isaac followed Derek’s example and stripped down to the birthday suit, before grabbing his sleep pants. Unlike Derek, however, Isaac left Stills to his right side, giving him a very X-rated side view. And really, becoming a werewolf had been very good to Isaac’s frame.
Suddenly, the ceiling looked really interesting.
“Okay, done. Now, your turn Stiles.”
Looking down at his own body, Stiles debated just staying in his jeans. A week in the same clothes wouldn’t be bad, right?
“Really, we don’t have time for you to be girly about it,” Derek said, laying a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, “Isaac put a hand on him so he can use his.”
Once Stiles’ hands were free, he stood there trying to force his mind to not focus on changing. Remember, just like the locker room. If the locker room was full of touchy feely hot guys. All he had to do was be smooth, act like he wasn’t hot around the collar. Or at least, not fall on his ass.
First shoes, then shirt, okay doing great, just the jeans next. But, where Derek and Isaac could remove their pants in one fluid motion, Stiles was more of a hop and flail around un-dresser. And that’s how Stiles ended up being held up by Isaac, who pulled Stiles’ naked ass flush with his body, stopping Stiles from falling to the floor.
Stiles must have pissed in Fate’s Wheaties at some point, because this shit only happened in rom-coms and low budget teen shows. And Stiles was pretty sure he was in neither.
“Take it slow, remember if you fall it’s going to hurt worse than a skinned knee,” Isaac warned softly, in his ear. Fuck, his dick decided now was the time to take notice!
He prayed to whatever deity was listening that Deaton called tomorrow with a cure, because Stiles knew he wasn't going to last the week.
Hearing Derek answer the phone in a sleep-filled voice woke Isaac, eyelashes fluttering open. Stiles expected Isaac to pull back or yell “no homo,” not blush like a tomato with a bashful, “sorry.”
Stiles didn't know how to respond to that. Normally, with Scott, they just shrugged off any positions they woke up in. As many times as they fell asleep at each other’s homes, usually in front of a movie or game, Stiles didn't think there was an odd position left for them to wake up in. Lucky for him, Derek ended the call with, “see you then,” rumbling against Stiles’ chest.
“Deaton and Scott are coming over, should be here in twenty.”
“Got any news?” Stiles asked, still with his back to Derek. Isaac, he noticed, was turning back to his normal pale color.
“He and the betas searched the area. He wants to inform us of his findings in person.”
“He didn’t find anything that could break the spell,” Isaac chimed in. Stiles swore he could hear Derek's eyebrows scowl at them.
“He's right,” Stiles added. “If they found a way last night, Scott would have dragged Deaton over here, even if it was at two AM. Let's hope the good witch doctor didn't find any bad news.”
Stiles felt Derek’s arm move behind him, more than likely to drag his fingers in his hair, creating sexy bed-tossed spikes. Stiles needed to get out of this bed before he started thinking about all the sexy acts that he and Derek could do to get his hair like that. Or Isaac and his damn black lashes framing blues eyes, looking up at Stiles while—
“Okay, we have less than twenty minutes before they get here. Unless you want to hold court in bed, we need to get up,” and if Stiles’ voice cracked at a higher octave, he wasn't going to point it out.
Derek and Isaac were the easiest to do. With only needing to have contact with Stiles, Derek used one hand to pull out his cock and do his business, holding the other far back behind him, fingertips touching the tips of Stiles’ hand, who stood next to Isaac, both trying to do the best impression of two dudes wanting in line for a urinal as they could. Isaac followed the same pattern as Derek, leaving the hardest part last. Much like last night they decided the best way was Stiles to be hands free and Derek and Isaac touched his back with fingertips, trying to give him a resemblance of privacy. Still one of the most awkward bathroom trips ever.
Isaac, who must have been spending a lot of time at Derek's, pulled a comic off the coffee table before sitting down, holding Stiles’ hand. Derek had an old tome lying open on the arm of the couch. That left Stiles bored in between them. He wished he thought to grab his cell phone before sitting, at least he could have played a game or logged onto any one of the time-wasting sites he frequented. Or the TV remote would be nice. Maybe he could ask Scott to bring over some movies if this was going to last much longer.
“Stop fidgeting,” Derek warned, eyes never leaving his book.
“Sorry, dude, it can't be helped.”
“It doesn't matter Derek, they're here anyway,” Isaac tossed his comic back on the table exactly as the door opened and Deaton entered carrying a pink bakery box. Scott followed in with a duffel bag, which Stiles knew came from his closet.
“Bringing me clothes is not a good sign, Scott.”
Watching his friend pull a bashful look before morphing into one of shock, reminded Stiles that, Scott might have seen his friend topless in the past, but never leaning into an equally half-naked Derek Hale and Isaac Lahey. Stiles gave him a knowing eyebrow waggle, snuggling a little deeper into Derek's warm body, holding Isaac arm in his lap, fingers wrapped around his wrist.
“Really dude?” Scott punctuated with an eye roll.
“Hey, don't go hating ‘cause you don't have,” he flicked the fingers on his right hand between Isaac and Derek, “hot, shirtless, eye candy.”
“This eye candy can move,” Derek’s warning came with a grin this time. Damn, that man pulled off sexy smirk so flawlessly.
“I don't know, Derek, I haven't been referred to as ‘eye candy’ before,” Isaac made a show of rubbing light circles on the inside of Stiles’ wrist, turning the joke against Stiles. And hell if it didn't work too, with the soft whine Stiles made in his throat, which he knew the three werewolves heard. Damn werewolves that knew how to gang up on him to boot! At least Scott's face took on a more sickly appearance, so the joke wasn't just on Stiles.
“Dude,” Scott ask in a low whisper, like everyone in the room couldn't hear him, “you guys didn't... you know?” Scott flipped his hand over, wiggling his fingers, as if that was the universal sign for sexy times.
“Scott! I’m shocked!” Stiles put the hand Isaac wasn’t holding over his heart, mock-startled, doing his best impression of every Victorian miss he’s seen on PBS. “If there is one thing I have learned from Miss Lydia, it is never until the third date, and only after you are taken to a restaurant with a decent wine list, even if you can’t drink any. And, since we didn’t eat anything last night, pass over that box, good doctor,” Stiles made grabby hands at the bakery box. “You, my good sir, are now my favorite suitor.”
“I feel sorry for your future love interest, Mr. Stilinski, if your attentions are so fickle,” Deaton teased, handing the box over to Stiles.
“I don’t think I can handle being second best to a man that can be wooed with doughnuts,” Isaac shook his head in mock hurt.
“Okay, okay just stop. Please,” Scott said, signaling with his hands to slow down. “It’s just… you’re all topless, and kinda comfortable around each other.” Stiles must be a better actor then he thought if he could project comfortable while fighting his hormones down every second.
“Deaton, you said you had some news?” Derek picked the dive-straight-to-the-point approach to this conversation. Which, when dealing with Deaton, still didn’t yield straight answers.
“As you know, Scott took me out to the ritual site after you three left last night. There wasn’t much to find about the witch herself, but I think I found out why she was able to perform the curse.” Deaton sat on the coffee table before he continued. “It seems she was going to use Stiles as an anchor to bind the pack to her.”
“What does that mean?” Derek’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“By tying herself to Stiles, and Stiles to the pack, she could have pulled power from the pack, through him, and used it for any magic that might need a boost.”
“So... I was going to be some kind of leach line?” It was a question that didn’t need an answer. Once again someone selected him, the human, to hurt his friends. He didn't feel hungry all of a sudden.
“From what I can tell she was in the middle of creating a solid open link from Stiles to the pack, and when you broke her concentration, the magic mutated the link in an odd way.”
“But last night you said it wouldn’t last, right?” Isaac hand gripped a little tighter on Stiles’ wrist, reminding Stiles that he wasn’t the only one having troubles with this.
“There was no long term grounding, and even if she had it would wear off, just longer than the time frame I estimated. And I doubt she would have been able to repower the curse since it was not the spell she mapped out.” Deaton gave them the most reassuring look Stiles had ever seen the doctor wear. “But I think you are going to have to wait. I estimate at least five days for it to wear off. Could be sooner but that is the best I can tell you.”
“But don’t worry dude, I brought you DVDs and video games, so it won't be like you’re missing all the summer fun.” Scott tried. Stiles would give him that.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Stile pulled himself out of the erotic daydream before lying on the floor became too uncomfortable. Instead he tried to focus on his book resting on the floor in front of him. At least he could turn the pages, since Isaac linked their legs together at the ankles. Glancing over at Isaac's reading choice, Stiles noticed that he was reading To Kill a Mockingbird, a book he had read in class last year.
“I'm trying to catch up on what I missed.” Another reminder that sophomore year was harder on Isaac then he let on. Father being murdered, becoming a werewolf, fucking Matt, fucking lizard Jackson, fucking Gerard. School sometimes didn't get put on the back burner, it was removed from the whole stove.
“I liked that one. Has some elements that we all could have related to last year.”
“Like me being accused of my father’s murder?”
“Or Derek being accused of Laura's, or the hunters prejudice against the werewolves,” Stiles added. “Need any help?”
“Na, I'm good but I might take you up on help in Chemistry.”
“You sure? Harris makes me out to be a dumbass.”
“Right, don't act like you didn’t make it into advanced this year. You know he only allows those who get a B or better into that one.”
Stiles’ response froze on his lips when he felt Derek shift under his hand in a different direction than before. Looking over, Stiles watched Derek roll over onto his back slowly, allowing Stiles’ hand to slide with the movement. The pads of his fingers slid from the latissimus dorsi muscles to fall across the pectoralis major. Stiles would only have to stretch his fingers to brush them along Derek's left nipple.
“Stiles, I need you to slide your hand down to my hip.” Derek's winded voice pulled Stiles out of his latest vision of him straddling Derek's hips, licking his way up his abs, tasting sweat-soaked skin.
As much as Stiles would have liked to slowly skim his fingers down Derek's body, savoring the feel, Stiles, for the sake of his life and sanity, moved his hand quickly, turning his head and hiding it into the crook of his other arm. Stiles didn't need to see another group of muscles contracting and expanding with Derek's sit-ups, giving him more details for his Derek-filled dirty thoughts.
“You can't fool me, Stiles,” Isaac's whispered breath ghosted Stiles ear, “I know you have the hots for our alpha.” Stiles’ moan was followed by Isaac's chuckle and Derek faltering his timing.
Isaac could be a fucking dickshit sometimes.
However the worst part of Derek's shower was that his arm started hurting like a bitch due to him sitting on the toilet, holding Derek's leg though the black (why was he not surprised) shower curtain. At least Isaac sat on the floor facing Stiles, back against the wall, bare toes on top of Stiles’ own, making their touch natural and comfortable. They were talking about useless comic book stuff, and Stiles found Isaac and himself had a few interests in common. Hearing the water turn off, Isaac stop in mid debate, when Derek's hand emerged from the shower to grab his towel.
“Which one of you two is going next?”
“If it all the same to you man, I don't think my arm can stand another shower,” Stiles rubbed his shoulder with his free hand trying to stop the knots from forming.
“We can shower together,” Isaac added his shrug of indifference, which Stiles though was more for Derek's sake than his own from the way Derek had ripped open the curtain, towel wrapped low on his hips. “We do shower with a whole team of people after practice.”
“But in a much bigger shower, dude.”
“Yes, but we do need to be touching. Don't worry, we’ll just have our feet like now,” Isaac tapped his feet in a pattern to emphasize his point.
Derek glared, mainly at Isaac, who just gave back a bored look, like he couldn’t care either way. Stiles wasn't fooled. This stare-off meant more than Derek being a controlling jerk.
“Is it okay with you, Stiles?” Derek asked.
“Okay,” Derek said, stepping out and laying a hand on Stiles shoulder, giving his aching arm a rest.
After Derek pulled on a pair of lose basketball shorts, showing Stiles a nice view of little Derek, it was shifting of seats and undressing. Stiles would never say it out loud, but Derek was right about using as little clothing as possible in this situation.
The hot water felt good on Stiles back, loosing tight knots and stiff joints from having to hold body parts still for so long. Stiles was used to movement, shifting, fidgeting. Getting up and walking if he wanted. Keeping himself still was hard, keeping himself without a permanent hard on was getting to be near impossible. Adjusting under the spray Stiles was careful not to pull away from either Derek’s or Isaac’s touch on him, and trying hard not to think of where he would like to be touched.
Flashes of soapy hands, stroking his cock in a firm grip played across his mind so vividly, that the feel of Isaac's hand on his shoulder jolted from his dream and almost Derek's grip. Isaac's other hand covered Stiles mouth kept him from asking any questions. Although Stiles thinks he was able to communicate “what the fuck” with his eyes, since Isaac's shook of his head and tilted it toward where Derek sat on the other side of the curtain.
“I am just trying to help with the pain,” Isaac kept his voice low so the spray of water muffled the sound. Lowering his hand from Stiles’ mouth, Isaac used the other to rub small circles massaging the muscle while leaching pain into his own body.
Stiles heard the sound of Derek's body wash being squeezed out of its container before he felt the cold gel slide down his back. Using both hands, Isaac rubbed the gel into his back, thumbs along his spine, pushing in an upward motion.
Stiles braced his hands on the tile wall relaxing into Isaac's firm touch. He was going to push the man into massage therapy with hands like that.
Isaac worked his way up into Stiles’ hair, adding the foam formed from the gel. It had been a long time since someone shampooed his head, and he never remember it feeling so relaxing. Stiles could melt into a pile of goo under Isaac's manipulation.
Adjusting the spray Isaac rinsed the soap from Stiles. Stiles was about to ask him if he wanted the favor returned, but Isaac shook his head and said, “I'm good.” Stiles, with nothing left to do, tried to not watch Isaac clean himself with quick efficient movements before washing off the suds.
“Go ahead and turn off the shower,” Isaac said, reaching out to take the towels Derek handed him.
Stiles tried to figure out the best way to thank a person for an impromptu massage and body cleaning, without sounding like every sexual innuendo in history. Isaac finished drying, wrapping the towel around him, acted like it was something you did every day.
“Earth to Stiles. Hurry up. I'm hungry and could eat a small cow,” Isaac said snapping his fingers in front of Stiles face, breaking him from thoughts about Isaac giving shower massages to faceless men.
“Sorry, I don't keep small cows in the freezer,” Stiles heard Derek call out. And just like that Stiles mind was on food.
“Well, I wasn't expecting guests,” Derek said, trying to defend himself from twin looks of hurt. “I haven’t gotten to do shopping this week.
“I don't think it would have mattered. From the lack of things like flour, sugar and the odd assortment of condiment bottles in your fridge, I’d say you are a TV dinner man.”
“I can cook.”
“Really, what?” Isaac asked, looking at Derek in disbelief.
“Spaghetti.” The two snorts were quite telling of what Stiles and Isaac thought of Derek's cooking skills.
“Boiling water and heating canned sauce is not cooking dude.”
“Let me guess, you can do better?” Derek put on his best I’m-a-judgmental-douchebag face.
“No, Derek, I rummage through the garbage and beg at the neighbors. Scott's mom taught me, so I would stop trying to eat her out of house and home after mom died and Dad became Sheriff. He almost broke down in tears when he realized I learned because he would forget, but I told him it's a highly valuable skill and looks good to girls.”
“I used to have to cook after mom left, but dad could be...demanding,” Isaac said. No, that really didn’t do the situation justice. Stiles knew Isaac's dad was an abusive asshole and Stiles hoped there was a roasting spit in hell that the man was overly familiar with.
“Fine, great, you two can cook. Doesn’t matter, because I have nothing to cook,” Derek said grabbing his phone. “Going to have Boyd get pizza.”
“Have him stop by for money first. We'll get a grocery list together and he can pick that up too,” Stiles pulled a pencil out of an odds and ends drawer, already getting Isaac’s opinion of what they needed for five days.
While they waited, Stiles and Isaac played Mario Kart on Derek's massive TV, which still had the show room smell. It was nice to sit on the floor and veg out, back against Derek's legs and Isaac’s leg bordering Stiles. The trash talk flew, as the two were pretty evenly matched, and occasionally, one would earn a chuckle or snort from Derek, who was trying to look absorbed in his book.
It was close to four in the afternoon when Boyd and Erica came back, with four pizzas, bags of food and the rest of the pack, minus Peter, walking like ducklings in tow.
“Thought you could use some company,” sweet, full-of-sugar Allison said, placing bags down in the kitchen area.
Lydia forced Jackson into the kitchen, the two organizing the food in effective locations. Allison and Scott set the coffee table with paper plates, napkins and plastic-ware they had picked up at the pizza parlor, and then unloaded the mountain of food with Erica and Boyd.
“This is a lot more than a pizza and some basics,” Derek closed his book looking uneasy at the pack taking over his apartment.
“Well, we like Stiles and Isaac, we didn’t want you to gnaw them to death on the first day,” Lydia’s voice carried from behind them.
“Plus.” Erica reached into a bag and pulled out some red box DVDs. “We got movies to watch.”
A rousing cry of, “Not The Notebook!” was heard from every male in the room.
But, more importantly, time flew by and it was after two in the morning when people started making noises about going home. Derek said they were welcome to crash on the floor, but Allison said her father would freak out if she wasn’t home in the morning, Scott had to work, and everyone knew Jackson and Lydia would being sleeping at Lydia’s with her parents gone. Erica, who was painting Stiles’ toes a rainbow of neon colors, had wanted to stay, but Boyd reminded her that she was going to help him watch his siblings tomorrow, and a restful Erica might be the best for the safety of his sisters.
Cleaning up went quickly as left overs were put away, and Stiles found himself alone with Isaac and Derek for the second night.
“Well, that was nice,” Stiles said, trying to start a conversation. Derek hummed his agreement, pulling himself off the couch, still standing behind Stiles.
“Come on,” Isaac said, waiting with his hand linked to Stiles, “let’s get off the floor and to bed. We all know Derek needs a lot of beauty sleep to look that good.”
“Ha, ha, ha, you chuckleheads,” Derek ruffled both their heads of hair, before pulling them toward the bed.
“Dude, did you just quote Supernatural? So you do watch Supernatural!”
“Stiles, why are we being woken up by Madonna?” Derek asked, eyes never opening.
“It’s my dad’s ringtone. Isaac, can you reach it?” Stiles asked as the phone ended with I’m going to keep my baby.
“You know what that song is about, right? I don’t really think it applies to you,” Isaac said, handing the phone to Stiles right before it started ringing again.
“He vetoed Bad Boys and Hot Cop,” Stiles said before accepting the call, “Hey Dad, don’t you have the morning shift today?”
“Stiles, this is the second night you haven’t come home.” Oh crap, he forgot to call his dad.
“I’m staying at Scott’s. We’ve been doing a Call of Duty marathon. I left you a note since you were sleeping.” Stiles hated lying to his father, hated that it was becoming more and more commonplace.
“I didn’t see a note.”
“Sure, I left it on the kitchen counter. Or was it the fridge? Maybe I put it in your office? You know how much paperwork you have in there. I’ve been telling you important things are going to get—”
“Stiles you’re rambling. You’re at Melissa’s?”
“And you were playing video games?”
“Yeah Dad, I'm sorry I didn't call, but you know with summer vacation and Mountain Dew...”
“Look, Dad, we’ve got to clean the house before Scott's mom comes home.”
“Sure you're okay, son?”
“Yeah dad, perfectly fine.” Hanging up, Stiles ran his hands through his hair. Every time he felt the hole get a little bigger inside. Hearing distrust in his father’s voice was harder than anything a hunter, werewolf or witch ever put Stiles through.
Leaning against Derek's rock solid chest, Stiles felt Isaac cuddle in closer, offering silent comfort. The feel of two warm bodies helped lull him back to sleep.
“No, I’ve used it for soup and things.” Derek might not know how to cook, but the man was a pro with the knife, making a mountain of home fries, sliced perfectly even, in next to no time. Of course, it might be a werewolf thing, because Isaac was just as fast with prepping the rest of the vegetables.
Making brunch as a group effort was surprisingly fun, and the conversation was light, with Isaac and Stiles asking Derek random questions about New York (which was apparently noisy and smelled like too many people) to interests he had outside of their supernatural bullshit they always fell into.
It was nice, relaxing, normal. It was the kind of lazy late morning he used to dream of having with Lydia. But now, sitting at the small dining table, with his ankles intertwined with Derek’s and Isaac's underneath, Stiles felt his daydreams about Lydia paled compared to this.
He would prefer to move around, doing something. But after the phone call from his father that morning, he didn't want to spend any time outside where he could be caught.
“We could explore the bookstore,” Isaac suggested, a little too excited about it to be an off-handed suggestion. Derek, however, took to gazing at a spot on the far wall as soon as it was brought up.
“Come on, Derek, you can’t tell me you're going to leave that place boarded up. It will be a sad loss to the town, dude.”
“I wasn't talking about renovating it, just taking a look.” Isaac put a calming hand on Derek's arm. Isaac was good at times like these, because he under stood Derek better than most. At least when Stiles lost his mom, his dad was there, but both Derek and Isaac had to lay their families to rest after they died violently at the hands of others. Isaac was the last of his own family, and Derek's uncle might be alive, but their problems kept them at arm’s length.
“Don't let him fool you, Derek.” Stiles did a little hip bump. “Isaac has an evil plan to get his hands on all the free books he can. Have you seen his summer reading list?” Stiles added with a shake of his head, “It's sad really, a nerdy werewolf. With all those good looks, too.”
“Do you want to see what good looks and a little book reading can do to you, Stiles?” Isaac’s face slowly broke out into what Stiles had dubbed Isaac's flirty wolf grin.
“Isaac, like me, I don't think you’ve had much time to put your research to good use.”
“Well, it is the summer. How does that Grease song go again?” Any snappy comeback was lost on Stiles’ tongue when his eyes shifted to Derek and back again. Derek looked like he took his silence as embarrassment, but really it was his brain pulling all the little clues from the last thirty-six hours into the forefront of his thoughts. Isaac was flirting with him!
“Derek, I think I broke him,” Isaac's voice took a worried tone.
“You!” Stiles’ sudden shout made both Derek and Isaac flinch. “You have been flirting with me!” Stiles eyes flicked from Derek to Isaac and back again.
Derek had been the lead man in his sexual fantasies since shortly after Scott was turned, but now, knowing Isaac liked him, sexually, came as a shock to him, but not in a bad way. Just... he hadn’t seen this coming.
Stiles’ mind was categorizing both Derek and Isaac. Stiles’ mind knew what kind of lover Derek would be, strong, powerful, claiming. But Isaac was an oddity to him.
Isaac had two sides to him. One was the playful puppy, which would do the cute relationship things like photo booths and ice cream sharing. Then there was the teasing, wicked side of Isaac. The side that would pull Stiles into a dark corner of the locker room and kiss him breathlessly. The side that would love to make Stiles beg in bed... or watch Derek fuck him into the mattress.
And holy hell! Where did that come from? Derek and Isaac. Isaac and Derek!And him!
The image was both incredibly hot and shocking enough that Stiles jerked back. The pain came on too fast for him to fight, and his world went black before he hit the floor.
“You're an idiot, you know that?” Isaac said with more relief than anger, his hand covering Stiles’ heart.
“So I am told by my father, fondly.”
“Always knew he was a smart man,” Derek said behind him, hand low on Stiles’ hip, giving him a squeeze, “Is there a reason you pulled away, Stiles?”
Stiles didn’t answer. He was the king of ignoring any personal issues. With other people’s problems, he was on the front line, but his were all carefully hidden under a rug woven of avoidance, omissions, and acting.
“I'm sorry, Stiles, I thought you picked up on the flirting a while back,” Isaac looked so much like a sad puppy. “If I’d known you were not—”
Rolling onto his back, so Stiles could see Derek too, he held up a hand, stopping Isaac from going on. Derek watched the exchange, silently, eyebrows drawn together. Damn it, he was in for the whole pound.
“Isaac, it's not that. It's just I may have a not-so-small crush on someone, and I've never seen anyone else like that. It took me by surprise, but it’s not unwelcome.”
Isaac's face was like watching a kaleidoscope of emotions sliding from sad, to happy, to worry, “This crush... isn’t Lydia, is it?”
“No, that ship sailed a long time ago,” Stiles said with complete confidence so both werewolves would hear that he was not lying, because for the next part, Stiles was going out on a limb. Looking Derek in his eyes, Stiles took a deep breath before, “I have a crush on you, Derek,” although it came out more squeaky and run together, like, “IhaveacrushonyouDerek!”
Derek's face pinched in confusion, “Crush? Like?”
“Want, pine, desire, yearn, dream about. Many forms of dreaming. Maybe wanking too, just to be clear.” Stiles watched Derek's eyebrows move up his forehead in shock.
“So yesterday, when I teased you, I thought it was because Derek made you uncomfortable, not because you—” Isaac finished his thought by pointing at Derek.
“Oh, trust me, he made me uncomfortable with a workout that could have passed for porn, but in a totally different way than you are thinking.” Derek's skin reddened, but it was Isaac who looked truly embarrassed.
“But the shower?”
“Wait, what shower?” This wasn't the way Stiles wanted this conversation to go, with everyone awkward with each other and unable to get away from each other.
“Okay, hold up, let me just finish what I wanted to say. Isaac, I have been, attracted to Derek since shortly after Scott was bitten. Yes, I didn't look around much, and I stayed away from you, since I am told pack is like family. Everyone that is dating another pack member was dating before.”
“So, I'm like a brother?”
“No! More like an off-limits close friend. And, really, it's not like I acted on anything. I didn't want to mess things up.” Isaac looked puzzled, but Derek caught on.
“You didn't want to hurt the pack.”
“Yup. We have enough drama with Scott and Allison and Lydia and Jackson and all their relationship issues.”
“But, that's not right, Stiles. No, let me finish. Putting my feelings aside for a moment, are you telling me because we already have two couples that still act childish when it comes to their relationships, you’re going to give up an a chance at love?” Isaac eyes flashed quickly.
“I wasn't. I would have found someone—”
“A year, Stiles. You just said you have had feelings for me for a year right?” This time it was Derek's turn to show his irritation.
“And in that time, have your feelings lessened... or grown?”
“Grown.” Stiles knew he wasn't going to win this argument. Hell, even when he made the choice to stay away from his feelings wanted him to do, Stiles knew it was a half-assed plan. “But, a relationship is still a two way street. It's not like Derek—”
Derek's lips took away any feeble point Stiles was about to try to make. The pressure against his lips forced Stiles to invite Derek further inside. Carding his fingers through Derek's hair, Stiles knew he was blessed that Derek was a man of action.
“Don't mind me, but that was hot,” Isaac's eyes bled yellow, and even Stiles could smell his lust in the air, even if he looked torn between wanting to follow Derek's example or back off his alpha's territory.
Taking a page from Derek's playbook, Stiles reached up at pulled Isaac down onto his waiting lips. Kissing Isaac was as different as night and day to kissing Derek. Derek was powerful, controlling, where Isaac had a calm sweetness to him. And Stiles was selfish enough to want both.
Breaking his kiss from Isaac, Stile smirked at his glazed-over eyes. There was just something amazing about knowing you were the one that put that look there.
Not to be outdone, Derek grabbed a handful of Isaac’s blond curls and tilted his head to the side. Stiles thought he was going to see a fight for dominance right above him, and he did, but not in the way he expected. Isaac whimpered into Derek's kiss, causing Derek to vibrate with a pleasing growl.
Leaning back on his elbows, Stiles watched the sight before him. Isaac was right; this was hotter than any Internet porn he had seen. Breaking apart, Stiles watched as red and yellow eyes locked, with only the sound of panting in the air.
“Okay, I, for one, think we all learned a valuable lesson today.”
“Oh?” Derek cocked his head to the side, red eyes looking at Stiles now. “And what's that?”
“That I am clearly not the only one who has been keeping something to himself.”
“Point made.” Derek gave Stiles a cocky half grin, eyes changing back to their hazel color.
“Wait, so we have all been lusting after each other?” Isaac sat up straight on the bed, legs pressed against Stiles.
“I think the timing was different for all, but yeah.” Stiles reached over to pat his leg. For all of Isaac's bold wicked teasing, he was still a puppy at times.
“Oh, thank god, I didn't want to have to explain to Derek about the shower, if he wanted you for himself.”
“Okay, what happened in the shower?”
Conversation was light, similar to earlier that morning, but topics brushed along relationship or dating lines. Like Derek telling them he hated going to the movies, since it was hard to enjoy a movie in a room that smelled of unwashed people and stale popcorn. And when all the clothes rustling and people whispering were added in, he wanted to claw the walls. Isaac talked about going swimming at the beach his father and brother used to go to with him when he was a child. Stiles, meanwhile, schemed that by utilizing his strategies and their werewolf skills, his group could finely beat Scott and Allison at laser tag.
After lunch, Stiles pointed out they never did go check out the bookstore, and really, Derek didn't have anything that could match a pushy, pleading Stiles and a puppy-faced, begging Isaac. Deciding that they couldn't do much cleaning as they were, they could still take stock of the damage and what needed to be done for future renovation.
As the three moved about the shop, each pointed out an area or a book associated with a childhood memory. Sometimes one of them pulled out a book for later use. By the time they were hungry again, Derek had a project list for the cleanup, Isaac had a pile of books and a few old comics he found, and Stiles had them both laughing from telling the tale of when Stiles was missing in the bookshop. Ms. Abby had been the one to find Stiles literally in the folklore section, where he had pulled a bunch of books off the lower shelf and then fallen asleep in his new hideout.
“I remember her telling us that story over diner,” Derek said. “She called you the chipmunk, because you would always be chattering away and then be found in some hidey-hole with your books.”
“I can see Stiles as a chipmunk. A were-munk?” Isaac laughed at the image in his head.
“Shut-up! I'd be a damn adorable chipmunk!”
Isaac swooped in for a quick kiss. “I'll look forward to seeing how much incoherent chatter comes out of that pretty mouth in bed.”
“Oh, it's not going to be incoherent. It will be sexual, thought provoking, and dirty.”
“Speaking of dirty, you two are not eating at the table covered in dust. Plus, I think you owe me a shower massage,” Derek said, shifting his hand down Stiles’ arm to grab his hand and pulling toward the stairs.
“Oh goodie, I like it when you get all alpha-like on us.”
But really, once Isaac and Stiles got Derek stripped and wet, Stiles didn't think anyone noticed the lack of personal space.
Threading a leg between Derek’s, Stiles was able to touch Isaac, and the pair worked on Derek between them. Just like yesterday, Isaac used the body wash to massage Derek with strong stokes of his hands. Stiles luckily got the best view of Derek, in all his naked glory, with the most porn-worthy expressions on his face. Adding soap to his own hands, Stiles started at the collarbone, working with circular strokes.
“Isaac does have magic fingers,” Stiles commented, watching Derek look at him through hooded eyes.
“I don’t know if it’s my fingers, or that he’s been tense for far too long,” Isaac punctuated his statement by rubbing a tender area, causing Derek to bow a bit.
Stiles just hummed in agreement, moving to the top of the pecs. He could feel little knots, along the muscles, sliding under his fingertips like beads. Working under the hot spray, Stiles watched Derek’s shoulders relax. It wasn’t until Derek let out a peaceful sigh that Stiles saw the deference in Derek’s body. Watching the stress melt away was like seeing Derek de-age before his eyes. As the alpha, Derek had been wound too tight for far too long.
Of course, as Stiles and Isaac worked their way down Derek’s body, Stiles noticed a whole new area that was becoming... tense. Isaac must have seen Stiles ogling, because he gave Stiles his wicked half-smirk, his eyes challenging as he worked his way around Derek’s hips.
Isaac used both hands fully, gliding and grasping Derek’s cock to full hardness, with quick efficient strokes. Stiles, not to be outdone, trailed one hand further down, to roll Derek’s balls between his fingers.
Bracing himself with one arm against the shower wall, Derek let out a “fuck” with an outward breath, before a throaty moan filled the shower as he came, covering Stiles’ chest briefly before the water washed it away.
“I don't think I am ever going to enjoy a solo shower again,” Stiles said, grabbing the soap with his free hand to clean himself.
“I think you will be too busy, with the two of us, to have time to enjoy yourself solo in the shower again.” Isaac leaned over to kiss him quickly on the lips.
Dinner was around the coffee table, where their legs were entangled with each other like vines. Derek turned on some digital music station on his TV for some low background noise, making it easy to converse with each other. It might not have been candlelight and slow dancing, but Stiles wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“Damn, Isaac, slow down, before I cream the inside of my pants,” Stiles panted, grabbing Isaac's hips to slow him down. “Just...just let me get them off.”
“Here, let me,” Derek was propped up on one elbow, stroking his own cock, pants already abandoned as his foot nudged Stiles’ leg where the pants had scrunched up. Apparently, Stiles was the last to wake for the party.
Hooking his fingers in Stiles’ waistband, Derek peeled the pants down and letting his fingers trail down the length of Stiles’ legs, pausing to allow Stiles to lift his hips. Isaac followed suit with Derek's assistance.
This was the first time another penis was touching Stiles’, and it was a-fucking-mazing. Sure he knew what a dick felt like; he touched his own enough, but the feel of heated skin slide against his own... he had to pinch his own nipples just to make sure he lasted longer than a heartbeat.
“Fuck, Stiles, play with Isaac like that,” Derek instructed, sitting back on his feet but keeping contact as he watched Isaac and Stiles fondle themselves. Stiles had no problem following any suggestions, and dragged his blunt nails across Isaac's pecs before pinching.
Isaac moaned into Stiles’ neck, hot breath followed by a tongue traveling along Stiles’ pulse point. When Isaac's lips attached to the end, sucking a mark into his skin, Stiles bucked his hips into Isaac's. Isaac responded thrust for thrust, building a deeper need.
“Damn you two.” Stiles swore the alpha sounded somewhere between awed and smug. “I can't wait to see how you buck with my tongue deep in your ass.” Derek’s hand moved fast on his own cock, the sound of flesh slapping up on his stomach. “Can't wait to taste the sweat leaking off your balls,” he growled, sending a shiver down Stiles’ spine.
Isaac's ass added a little wiggle in his thrust, like he could feel Derek tonguing his asshole already.
“Adding my fingers, working you open to take my cock.” Derek’s voice sounded too smug as he watched the effects of his words.
“Damn it, Derek, you fucking tease!” Stiles cursed before pulling Isaac into a kiss covering any more babbling that might slip out.
“Not a tease, Stiles, a promise,” Derek vowed with a half growl that seemed to fill the room. Either the images or the promises pushed Isaac over the edge, with Stiles tumbling after. They collapsed, panting, and Stiles expected to hear Derek follow them.
What Stiles wasn't expecting was Derek to peak and spill himself over Stiles and Isaac's cocks. Rubbing his fingers in the spunk, Derek mixed the fluids together before licking it off his finger, like it was cool whip. Stiles swallowed noisily as he watched.
“Shit, if that was some sort of scenting werewolf kink, I can get behind that.”
“No, but Isaac and I can show you plenty of werewolf kinks,” Derek teased with a wag of his eyebrows.
“I was thinking more of biting,” Derek said, latching on to Stiles neck.
“Oh fuck,” Stiles moaned feeling his dick twitch. God, he loved teenage stamina!
Okay, so they didn't plan to end up like this when sometime, after breakfast, they decided to lay about the living area, watching old movies, but frankly, Stiles couldn’t give a flying cow patty.
Sometime during a very not-sexy Mel Brooks movie marathon, Stiles and Isaac ended up naked, each straddling an equally naked thigh of Derek's. And Stiles was quickly realizing Derek had a voyeurism streak bigger than all of Beacon Hills. Funny, he hadn’t anticipated the alpha to be so kinky.
Not that Stiles minded in the slightest. We could watch Derek make out with Isaac like this any time of any day of the week. Also, Derek's powerful muscles flexing in the juncture of Stiles legs, pressing against his ass, was one of the most heavenly things Stiles had felt. And that included the brief times he had tested the feel of his own fingers in that area.
Also, Isaac and his way-too-talented tongue were teaching Stiles kissing techniques on a whole new level. Stiles was feeling like his dreams had come true—
Until it all went to shit.
“Stiles, you need to...Oh. My. God!” Scott screamed from the doorway of Derek's loft, causing the three bodies to break apart, and Stiles, with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, tumbled backwards off Derek's leg and on to the floor, breaking all contact with the others.
Derek and Isaac flew off the couch after Stiles, trying to get a hold on him before the pain got too much.
“Stiles, are you okay?” Isaac looked worried, but Stiles just stared back, feeling nothing unpleasant.
“Guys, I think it's broken,” Stiles pulled himself up in a sitting position.
“What's broken? Your arm? Leg?” Derek asked, free hand hovering, looking for a place to take away the pain.
“No, the curse. I didn't feel anything when I fell, other than my ass hitting the floor hard,” Stiles rubbed his lower back. “Maybe we can test it?”
“But if you're wrong—”
“It's ok, Isaac, we’ll go one hand at a time,” Stiles reassured him, “Derek will keeping touching me. Last time it felt like a cramp when I only had one hand on me, so I should be fine.”
Isaac nodded and lifted his hand off Stiles’ leg a few inches, not too far in case Stiles felt pain again. But the pain never came.
“Derek, take your hand off,” Stiles instructed, almost too afraid to get his hopes up that he was free. But as Derek, followed Isaac's example and raised his hand slightly above Stiles’ leg, nothing happened.
“Any pain?” Derek asked.
“No, nothing. It's over.” Stiles wanted to cry or hug someone. He could go to the bathroom, he could drive his jeep and visit Scott and—
“Wait, Scott why are you here?”
Scott who stood in the doorway, hand covering his eyes, answered in typical panic rush for Scott, “Sorry I didn't know you'll be umm...why are you guys...uhh...”
“Really, Scott, you and Allison can have sex but not say the word?” Derek scoffed.
“No, I mean—”
“Scott, it doesn’t matter. Why did you rush in like the building was on fire?” Stiles reached for his pants. There is no way he was sitting unclothed on the floor while Scott was having some sort of prudish crisis.
“Your dad was at my house this morning.”
“Shit, what did you tell him?” Stiles asked, watching Isaac lean over to get his own pants. God, he wanted to take a bite in that pale round ass and—
“That's the problem! I didn't talk to him, my Mom did. I overheard them talking when I came home from Allison's and—”
“Shocker,” Stiles said, eyes flicked to Derek slipping his shorts back on. Stiles wondered how long any love bites would last on a werewolf.
“—and Mom told him you hadn't been staying there—”
“Wait! Scott, you said your Mom would cover—”
“I forgot to tell her! Things have been great with Allison—”
“—and I told him I was there! You know lying to my Dad—”
“STOP! Both of you,” Derek commanded, one hand on his head like a headache was coming on. “Why are you here, Scott?”
“Stiles’ dad said he saw the Jeep outside this shop the last two nights—”
“Scott, you said you were going to take it home!”
“—and he said he was going to drive over!”
“Fuck, we don't have time to move it!” Stiles got off the floor in one graceless move. “Hurry up and get jeans on! We don't have any time... Scott, you better hide up here.”
“Wait, what are we doing?” Isaac asked, pulling a t-shirt over his head for the first time in three days.
“I have a plan. I think will work, but we can't be in sleep pants,” Stiles said jumping around getting his jeans up over his hips, “We’re going to be cleaning the book store when he gets here.”
“You think this will work?” Derek asked, jeans coming on in fluid motion.
“Not if we can't get down there before he shows up! Scott, go unlock the store front door and then go hide.” Shoving his feet into his tennis shoes, Stiles was walking the moment he got them on. “Let’s go fool the Sheriff so no one gets arrested.”
“Hey, Dad! Just... you know, helping,” Stiles said, nodding to the books piled in his arms.
“Helping?” His dad deadpanned with his best I don't believe you look.
“Yeah, Dad, you know, assisting another, performing a task to benefit a cause?”
“I know what helping means, Stiles.”
“Oh. I wasn't sure with the way you left it in a question and all.”
“What I mean it why are you here, in a closed bookstore, helping Derek Hale and Isaac Lahey?”
“Well, it's Derek's book store.” Stiles used his head to point at Derek. “Ms. Abby was Derek's grandmother.”
Yes, Stiles knew he was an ass, using Derek's grandmother's death to derail his father from further questions. But, it was a half-assed plan to begin with, and Stiles knew it would work since the bookstore had roots in Stiles’ youth and time with his mother. Yep, there was a special circle in hell prepped and waiting for Stiles.
Turning to Derek, the Sheriff eyes got softer. “I'm sorry Derek; I forgot Ms. Abby was a Hale.”
“It's okay, Sheriff, a lot was happening. I'm surprised Laura even knew who to call and get this place boarded up,” Derek said, moving closer to the Sheriff.
“Well, you’re welcome to all the slave labor from my son. Lord knows he just sits around all day and with his TV and video games—”
“—and he could learn the value of some hard work. Of course, it would be better if the boys were getting paid for their labor. But maybe we can work something out when you open the store back up. I know Stiles spends a fortune on gas—”
“—and Isaac might like some money to spend on himself.” Derek was nodding with the Sheriff at every word. “Just make sure he gets home for dinner tonight, it’s red meat night. I'll pick up some steaks, Stiles, on the way home. Derek, Isaac? You're both invited.”
No one said anything but nods happened all around. “Good. And one more thing, Stiles? We will be discussing who has been gnawing on your neck.”
“Fuck!” Stiles dropped the books, before reaching a hand up to his neck.
“The other side too.” His dad tapped a spot on his own neck.
Oh, blue blazing hell!
“See you three tonight. And Derek, let me know when you're having your store opening.” And with that, the Sheriff turned and left.
“Wait, what did I just agree to?” Derek asked, confused. Oh, Stiles knew his dad was good, but this was good. Laughing, Stiles explained how Derek just agreed to be an upstanding business owner of downtown Beacon Hills, and give Stiles and Isaac part time jobs when the store opened.
“Oh boy, this is going to be a good summer!” Stiles cheered, pinching Isaac’s ass before giving chase up the stairs. Now that he didn’t have to stay connected to anyone, Stiles couldn’t wait to get his hands on his sexy men, just because he wanted to.