Chapter Text
Stiles grinned as he watched Scott and Jackson chase each other in the ongoing - and neverending, he suspected - attempt to prove which was faster - werewolf or lizard. Speed-wise they seemed pretty evenly matched, at least as far as Stiles was concerned, and whoever was chasing the 'prey' always caught them in the end. It was also pretty homoerotic, what with the grabbing and the shirtlessness, but Stiles wisely kept his mouth shut lest it spoil his show.
School let out for summer a week ago, and the extra time together had made them even closer. Stiles would've thought that spending that much time with the same group of people would've created more conflicts, not less, with people needing personal space and all that jazz. But no, it didn't work that way in pack-land. The more time together, the better, apparently. Derek had told him that the presence of an Alpha and a mate had a stabilising effect on the rest of the pack. Basically, if they were happy, everyone else was happy.
Which was no pressure at all, but he already knew he thrived on pressure, so this was just another aspect of his crazy life.
He and Derek had already had several long conversations, which still mostly consisted of Stiles talking and Derek generally being silent, but Derek had started to verbalise what he was thinking at least a little more. Stiles had been forced to admit - as much as he didn't want to - that keeping him in the dark about the plan to 'threaten' Lydia's life was the right thing to do. He really couldn't lie to save his life - not through lack of trying - and if he'd somehow given anything away to Jackson, it would've been game over. That definitely didn't mean he was happy about it in any way, shape or form and he may have threatened Derek with a serious lack of sex if he kept Stiles in the dark again.
A threat that lasted all of five minutes.
Literally. Five minutes. Derek looked really good with his shirt off. (Stiles was beginning to realise that Derek was using it as a bargaining tactic, and ultimately found that he didn't care. Shirtless Derek).
Derek had also told him everything he knew about the bond between a werewolf and their mate. (Stiles had taken to calling it 'our magical love connection', because if it had to have a cheesy name, he was giving it his own cheesy name, damn it. Plus, Derek winced every time he said it). Which turned out to be...not much more. It turned out that Derek had told Stiles pretty much all he knew about the bond on the day Stiles had finally come to see him - which explained all of the maybes and probablies, when Stiles thought about it afterward. Derek knew a little about it, along with what he'd learned from observing his parents, but he hadn't had the full-on magical love connection talk from them before they died. Which meant he was almost as much in the dark about this stuff as Stiles was.
Which explained a lot.
(He did say - quietly, one day, when no one else was around - that Scott and Allison hadn't bonded properly yet and that it could've been anything from their relative youth to the fact that, in werewolf terms, Scott was still newly turned and therefore just a cub. Stiles kind of agreed - they'd been in plenty of life-threatening situations, and he'd never once seen Allison flip out the way he had. But he also knew they loved each other desperately - often nauseatingly - and he was sure it would come in time).
So, they were just doing the best they could - the best they knew how. Derek had started training Stiles, as well as the actual wolves-slash-lizards, in the different techniques he used to keep his emotions under control. Especially around certain cycles of the moon, or when someone he cared about was hurt. Stiles was sure the techniques were useful, but it was strangely cool yet weird at the same time, being the only non-wolf getting the training. He didn't want the bite - although he knew without a doubt that Derek would give it to him if he ever asked - but most of the time lately his emotions felt on a pretty even keel. It was definitely only around Derek being threatened that they flared so amazingly out of control, and lately that hadn't happened.
But then, this was Beacon Hills. It was bound to happen again sooner or later.
And, truthfully, that wasn't the only time the emotions were a little overwhelming - but he didn't talk about that with anyone, not even Scott. The way Derek would hold him afterwards, talking to him softly as they both shook, Derek's voice and hands and everything assuring him that he knew exactly what Stiles was going through.
Feeling a nudge of contentment inside his brain - that was something else that'd started happening in random bursts lately - Stiles grinned and turned to face Derek who was walking out of the house, looking pretty pleased with life in general. This meant to the world at large that he was frowning less than usual, but Stiles knew the truth of it. And he was grateful for it, too, because Derek had been distracted the last couple of days and none of Stiles' most expert finagling (blow jobs) had gotten what was bothering Derek out of him.
"Got something to show you," Derek greeted, communicative as always, gesturing into the house. Following his gaze, Stiles got to his feet, leaving Lydia and Allison to enjoy the view in his sted. He was pretty sure they didn't even notice him leaving.
Stiles was looking forward to whatever the something was. In the week since school had broken up, they'd all started pitching in around the house, and it was slowly transforming into something habitable. Jackson liked to complain - often and loudly - about slave labour, but he was fooling nobody. Already, he was becoming less of a dick, which was usually most obvious in his interactions with Lydia, but sometimes he was even not-rude to Stiles (he couldn't say polite. Stiles didn't think he could ever call Jackson polite but for now, not-rude did the job). And he was always the first one to start work on the house in the morning, often to Derek's chagrin.
"Is it the tiling in the kitchen?" Stiles asked eagerly, jogging into the house after Derek. "Did you finally decide-oh!" He was pushed up against the wall, just like the good ol' days, and Stiles realised the only thing Derek wanted him to see was in his pants. Grinning into the kiss, Stiles playfully shoved at Derek's chest. "You could've just said."
"But luring my prey in is always much more fun," Derek grinned and yeah, this was new, too. The playfulness when they were alone together. Stiles had quickly learned that sex wasn't just about unrestrained passion and orgasms - although there was no doubt they were totally awesome, too - but it was also about fun and laughter, and things like discovering Derek's sides were ticklish if you touched them in just the right way. In fact...
Derek tensed, eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare."
It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. An engraved invitation, just inviting Stiles to tickle him. So Stiles did.
Making choked off sounds, Derek dodged Stiles' hands as much as possible until eventually Stiles ended up being tossed down onto the sofa, gasping with laughter as Derek straddled him, holding his arms down at the wrists. They grinned at each other, panting, and it was pretty much a given that they'd start yanking off clothes. Three seconds later, they did.
"You'd love it, wouldn't you?" Derek growled, tugging off Stiles' shirt and throwing it across the room. "If I made you come, right here, with the rest of the pack outside."
And it may have made him dirty, bad and wrong, but he would love it, and he couldn't believe that such a short time ago he'd been embarrassed by anyone even knowing he had a sex life, never mind someone being right outside while he indulged in said sex life. Stiles just figured it had something to do with their magical love connection being unveiled and fortunately - for everyone, really, as Stiles started working on Derek's belt - the pack had adapted to this change in their relationship pretty quickly.
Someone knocked on the side of the house. Loudly. They froze.
"So are you guys going, or what?" Isaac's voice reminded. "Because Scott just finished the last can of soda. Or do I need to get the hose and spray you apart?"
"Oh my God, don't give them ideas!" Scott yelled out and it was that, more than anything else, that made Stiles laugh and Derek start climbing off of him.
"Not ready for kids, huh?" Derek teased as he found Stiles' shirt and handed it back to him.
"An argument could be made that we have five already." Rolling his eyes, Stiles tugged his shirt back on and nudged Derek with an elbow as he walked past. "Get your keys. We'll probably need both cars."
*
Stiles pushed the shopping cart along, the front left wheel squeaking annoyingly. Well, it didn't bother him personally, but from the way Derek tensed up each time it squeaked, werewolves definitely found it annoying.
Stiles may have started pushing the cart a little faster. Just because.
Coming to a stop in the produce aisle - causing Derek to drop his shoulders in relief - Stiles started groping different fruit and vegetables, testing their freshness. He was in the middle of explaining how to test everything for ripeness - it seemed likely that Derek didn't possess this kind of knowledge, having no knowledge of anything practical, ever - when he realised the man in question had vanished and he was talking to himself.
"Rude," he muttered, still talking to himself - a frequent past time, by now - giving the bananas a good fondle.
Okay, so that was more freudian than even he liked. Their joint sexual repertoire had grown larger, but neither one of them had been with a guy before and they'd been holding off on certain thresholds. For the time being.
Derek found him again in the soft drinks aisle, as Stiles tried to squeeze 36 cans of diet soda beneath the mountain of food he'd already collected, realising he should've thought this through more. New werewolves - when you actually thought about their developmental needs unlike, say, Derek - required a lot of feeding and maintenance. Stiles had convinced Derek that as there was no school over the summer and they were likely going to be at the house all day, every day, he needed to provide them with enough sustenance to keep their little werewolfy - and lizardy - hearts healthy and happy. The only reason Derek wasn't being eaten out of house and home was the fact that he was loaded due to being the last living relative of the Hale family.
Stiles couldn't bring himself to think of it as a good thing, but it was useful all the same.
Choosing to balance the root beer on the corners of the shopping cart, Stiles turned just as Derek was dumping a huge bag of pasta into the cart.
Wait a minute. "Uh. What's that?"
Derek made a face that suggested even Stiles couldn't be that dumb. "Pasta. What's that?" He nodded towards the soda.
So now they were both asking questions they already knew the answers to. "Uh, root beer?"
"It's diet." He sounded genuinely offended.
"And yet, it's still root beer."
"Stiles-"
"I'm just saying, despite its name, it doesn't actually contain any vegetables. And..." An idea came to mind. Reaching into his back pocket, Stiles yanked out the piece of paper there, holding it up victoriously. "Diet root beer is on the list. But pasta isn't!" He waved it around for emphasis.
"Not the list again." Derek closed his eyes, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We talked about this last time." He dropped the hand and opened his eyes, sounding as if he thought this'd all been settled.
And there was Derek's problem. He should've known better. "No. You talked. I listened. And silently disagreed with everything you said."
"So I'm supposed to be able to read your mind, now? You never normally have a problem sharing your opinion - in great detail, using far more words than necessary."
It was safe to say that Derek didn't enjoy grocery shopping. It'd quickly become evident that, before, Derek had survived on the bare minimum, getting in and out of the store as quickly as possible. But he was the Alpha now, with a pack of his own, and with great power came great responsibility.
Derek probably wouldn't appreciate the Spider-Man reference right now.
"They're still growing, changing," Stiles said, really quite reasonably. "They need a lot of food, and to keep them healthy we need to make sure it's a lot of healthy food. Hence, the list." He lifted it back up. "We need to stick to the list, and not get sucked in by any yummy goodies we see. Believe me, I know it's hard." He thought of how often he'd given into temptation at the video store.
Derek eyed the basket. Then he eyed Stiles. "And there's a bag of curly fries in the cart because...?"
Blinking, Stiles shifted on the spot. "Um. Those are for me?" He'd been caught, there was no two ways around it.
Derek nodded smugly. "And the pasta's for me."
That was a huge bag of pasta for one guy. Sure, Stiles knew werewolves could have large appetites, but he'd rarely seen Derek eat anything in front of him. "But-"
"Stiles!" Derek had apparently had enough. "I'm paying. If I want pasta, I'm going to get pasta."
Stiles gave in and held up his hands, not willing to get into a full-on blow-out in the middle of the grocery store. "Fine. But don't blame me when it clogs up your insides and stops you from 'going' at all." He grabbed the shopping cart to quickly spin it away for a dramatic exit, but it was so laiden down with shopping that it turned into a six-point-turn-with-grunting exit. So much for that.
Finally taking pity on him, Derek grabbed the handle of the cart away from him and suddenly it was sailing down the aisle like it was freaking floating or something. Stiles rushed to catch up with him. "I'm just gonna remind you that you have, like, a million muscle groups that I don't. And enhanced strength, which is a totally unfair advanta-oof!" Derek had stopped right in front of him, stock still. Prising himself away from Derek's back - and he had to be honest, he enjoyed spending time in that location - Stiles figured Derek had seen something, but when he saw Derek's face...nope. He just seemed to be staring off at something in the distance.
Stiles inched closer. "Derek?"
Clearly struggling with something, Derek eventually decided to share, turning his grumpy-ass face towards Stiles to say, "It's...it would've been...my mom's birthday tomorrow."
He felt like he'd had the breath knocked out of him. Oh. Oh. This explained the dramatic shift in mood from the house to the store, despite Derek's general dislike of shopping. Maybe the sexy-fun times at the house had even been a deliberate distraction.
Dealing with this should've been something Stiles was good at, having been through exactly the same terrible thing, but for now all he seemed to be able to do was stare back at Derek helplessly.
"And every year, we had pasta. With this spicy sauce that she loved. Laura and I tried to keep the tradition going, after...." His voice dwindled off and Stiles couldn't help but wonder, in the months that he'd known him, how many birthdays and anniversaries Derek had had to deal with alone. It explained a lot about his general demeanor. "And now there's no Laura, either." The cart gave a groan of protest and Stiles glanced down to see that Derek's grip on the cart was so tight, he was literally crushing the handle.
Stiles' hand shot out without thinking, covering Derek's. Blinking, surprised, Derek stared down at their hands. When he realised exactly what he was doing, he loosened his grip.
When he spoke again, he kept his head down. "After Laura died, I figured there was no point." Which was a little surprising, because that sounded exactly like the kind of self-flagellation Derek was into. "But now...I want to. With the pack." He finally lifted his head again, and he looked shockingly vulnerable when he met Stiles' gaze. "With you."
And now Stiles knew exactly what to do.
They weren't exactly public with their relationship - although Stiles' 18th birthday was rapidly approaching, something they were both well aware of - but Dad had made it clear, especially since they'd worked things out, that they didn't need to go into hiding on his account. Nonetheless, Stiles wasn't about to start frenching Derek in the middle of the grocery store - as much fun as that'd be. But he could do this. He could do this much.
Shifting his hand, he started wiggling his fingers around the edges of Derek's palm. Quickly catching on, Derek turned his hand over and Stiles smiled softly, threading their fingers together. His free hand shoved the list back into his pocket and he forgot all about it. "Let's get the ingredients for that sauce."
Producing his own soft smile in return, Derek squeezed Stiles' hand in silent gratitude, and then they both looked forward to start walking again and-
Whoa. Creepy.
Victoria Argent was standing several feet away, staring at them.
Derek stiffened next to him and Stiles felt his own hackles rising, narrowing his eyes as he glared at her. If she even looked at Derek the wrong way...
But then he actually paid attention to what she was looking at. Sure, she was looking at them - but more speficially, she was staring at their joined hands, still resting on top of the shopping cart. And that made Stiles think all kinds of things, like how long she'd been lurking around and how much she'd seen and heard. If that night in the forest had proven one thing, it was that Victoria Argent was as skilled as any hunter, and knew how to hide from a werewolf. Derek hadn't seen her coming until the very last minute.
The mutual stare-off continued for some time, Mrs Argent still mostly staring at their hands. Stiles didn't even think of pulling away, instead holding Derek's hand tighter. Derek squeezed back reassurringly.
Eventually, her face unreadable as always, she looked them both in the eye, one at a time. "There's a family dinner tonight," was all she said, "remind Allison to be there by seven." And then, as if giving them no further thought - and honestly, Stiles wasn't even offended by that, he was downright down with not being the subject of Victoria Argent's thoughts - she turned and wheeled her shopping cart away.
Blinking, Stiles let the tension drop out of his body. "Wow. I think she just agreed not to kill you."
"Until the next time I'm forced to do something she doesn't like," Derek suggested and there was the hopeless pessimist Stiles had come to know and love. "Doesn't mean she's suddenly not a threat."
Well, yes, that was true. Allison kept them frequently updated on the progress, or lack thereof, of convincing her mom that she really didn't want to kill the guy who,
a) was an Alpha
b) had a whole pack at his command (when Scott wasn't being distracted by shiny things - or Allison)
c) hadn't retaliated after she shot him
d) her only daughter would never forgive her for killing
e) had only ever killed one guy, a guy that happened to be a psycho, mass-murdering werewolf that the Argents had kinda been responsible for in the first place, and that they hadn't been able to take down themselves so really, he'd done them all a huge favour and,
f) whose not-so-maybe boyfriend would totally go ninja on her ass.
F may have only been in Stiles' head, but he knew the truth. He knew what the biggest threat was.
As well as Allison, Chris Argent seemed to be maybe-possibly-kind of be on their side, too. Or at the very least he wasn't actively looking to kill them, and had been convincing his wife to leave Derek well enough alone. Stiles had never been a fan of Chris Argent - what with the whole plotting to kill his best friend and throwing Stiles up against the wall in the hospital and intimidating him thing - but the truth of what Kate had done had clearly shaken the man and what he believed in.
"You could move somewhere new?" he suggested. "Some place they don't know?" Stiles pictured them taking over an abandoned warehouse, sharing secret knocks, codewords and assignations in the middle of the night.
...wow. He'd totally never realised how dirty 'assignations' could sound before.
"Probably a wise move," Derek conceded, "but I've been hiding since I was 16. I'm not doing it anymore."
Stiles couldn't really blame him - and for Derek, at least, this was probably a good thing. "Well...okay, then. We'll just keep doing what we've been doing." Which meant the traps set up around the perimeter of the house. Derek had devised - okay, so it was mostly Lydia - the simple but effective design that made a certain noise when activated. The weight of most animals wouldn't set it off, although that generally wasn't an issue due to most animals being smart enough to stay the hell away from a house full of werewolves. "And now, sauce!"
As segue's went, it wasn't his greatest.
"So, hey," Stiles continued as they finally started moving again, hands eventually drifting away from each other but bodies staying close, "do you think Jackson and Lydia are ever gonna figure themselves out? Are those crazy kids ever gonna get back together?" He waggled his eyebrows and, okay, maybe it was just because he knew it'd make that I'm-trying-not-to-smile-but-can't-help-myself-because-my-boyfriend's-so-awesome smile appear on Derek's face.
Yeah. That one he was wearing right now.
"I'm the last person you should ask about romance," Derek pointed out.
Shrugging, Stiles leaned against him. "I dunno. You seem to be doing pretty good to me." And this seemed like a good time to mention it, what with the talking of romance and Derek seeming pretty happy right now. "Did I mention that Dad invited you over next Wednesday?" There'd been a second visit to Casa Stilinski already, the experience only slightly less awkward than the first one for all involved. They'd at least moved on to snacks and this time, Dad wanted an actual meal.
And yes, now Derek was smiling at him dryly. "For Inquisition: The Sequel?"
Derek made a funny! Stiles was so proud, and just had to join in. "This Time It's Pork Chops!" And yes, now Stiles was pretty damn sure he was wearing his own I-can't-help-myself-because-my-boyfriend's-so-awesome smile. And yes, they were apparently one of those annoying couples who made jokes together and smiled sickeningly at each other and held hands while they did the grocery shopping.
But Stiles had been putting up with Scott and Allison for months - months - now.
The world could deal with it.
~FINIS