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Derek heard his heartbeat and smelled him as soon as Stiles stepped into the precinct.
There was a deep backlog of reports to file and spreadsheets to update, so Derek sat with his eyes trained on his computer screen, carefully keeping his heartbeat steady, though Stiles wouldn’t have any idea, and the only other shifter on the force, Isaac, was out on patrol.
“I want balloons at this graduation party. It won’t feel like you’re really celebrating Scott and my achievements without them,” Stiles said as he rounded the corner. He was still speaking animatedly to the sheriff about the specific qualities that made a balloon special when he caught sight of Derek and did a double-take, body jerking backward in exaggerated alarm.
The sheriff gave Stiles a flat look. “You knew he was working here.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said. “But there’s knowing and, you know, knowing. Witnessing it with my own two eyes.” He pointed at his eyes and then swept his fingers dramatically around him, landing on Derek.
“Stiles,” Derek greeted.
He’d known that Stiles had arrived back in town yesterday, but Derek hadn’t actually been prepared to see him here today.
Without warning, Stiles rested his hand on the back of Derek’s chair and leaned in, close enough that Derek could smell beyond the warm undertones of Stiles’ aftershave to his own distinctly Stiles scent underneath.
“Derek?”
“What?”
“I asked what you’re working on.”
Derek stared at Stiles, face only a couple of inches away. It took all of Derek’s willpower not to let his eyes drop to Stiles’ mouth.
“That’s classified,” he said, sliding his chair a pointed few inches back.
The sheriff raised an eyebrow and headed into his office as Stiles said, “It says ‘Outstanding Parking Tickets’ at the top of your spreadsheet. I’m glad the town can rest easy knowing they have their finest guarding their dark secrets.”
Derek scowled at him, and Stiles grinned back.
To Derek’s delight and horror, Stiles stuck around long enough to force Derek to congratulate him multiple times on graduating summa cum laude and inform Derek that now he was back he’d be resuming his rightful place on the throne as Scott’s right-hand man.
“Please do,” Derek said. “Has he always been a chronic over-sharer?”
Stiles nodded emphatically. “Yes.”
Halfway through the interaction, Derek realized his head was throbbing and he was clenching his jaw so tightly his teeth ached. His fangs were threatening to drop, and he was still struggling for control after Stiles had disappeared into the sheriff’s office. Derek didn’t stop struggling even after Stiles walked past his desk ten minutes later, saluted, and left the building. Not until long after his scent had faded.
There was a unique full moon coming up, a Super Flower Blood Moon—a total lunar eclipse—so it made sense that Derek might be more on edge in the week leading up to it. Even born wolves needed more focus to remain in control sometimes.
So Derek didn’t concern himself with his reaction to Stiles that day, though later he would realize his mistake.
*~*
The next morning, Derek woke to a pounding in his skull, like someone had taken a baseball bat to it. He groaned and grasped for the glass of water on his nightstand. After he’d gulped down a few mouthfuls, he hauled himself out of bed and into the shower, struggling through the simple routine the same way he might after a brutal fight.
When he emerged from the shower fifteen minutes later, he threw himself back down on the bed, immensely relieved that it was the weekend.
He would have gladly stayed in bed and hidden in his apartment all day if not for the pack meeting that night—which doubled as a welcome back dinner for half of the pack—that the sheriff and Stiles were hosting. Derek had promised multiple times that he would go, and Scott had been looking forward to it all week if his constant texts in the pack’s stupid group chat were anything to go by.
And when Derek had not replied in said group chat, Scott had come upstairs to confirm his attendance directly. Renting an apartment to Scott only one floor down was a blessing and a curse. A logistical blessing, a privacy nightmare.
Not long after Derek and Cora had returned to Beacon Hills three years ago, Cora had started dating Isaac. Now, this meant with the rest of the pack away at school, Scott wanted to hang out with Derek all the time. They went on runs together. Hung out at the loft together. For some reason Scott told Derek about his relationship problems—long-distance with Allison had proven more complicated than either of them had naively anticipated. Scott wanted Derek to feel included in everything pack-related and asked him earnestly for advice and guidance on werewolf culture. It was actually pretty great except when it wasn’t, and Derek felt brief pangs of nostalgia for the Scott of six years ago who could barely stand to be in the same room as him.
Having Stiles back as a buffer would be good, Derek told himself as he splashed cold water from the kitchen sink onto his face. His skin felt weird and prickly, but there was no use letting whatever was wrong with him throw his whole day off, and it might even help him burn out some of that itch under his skin if he started on his morning workout.
Hey, man, you coming tonight?? I gave my dad permission to make his special lasagna. He said you love it, and it’s still weird you’re on lasagna eating terms with my dad. Stiles texted while Derek was between reps. All the pull-ups and push-ups had only made him feel shittier, and he’d been on the verge of telling Scott to hold the meeting without him.
But he thought about how good it would feel to be surrounded by the pack and how nice it felt when the sheriff clapped him on the shoulder and called him son, and damn it he did love that lasagna. His head felt a little clearer as he stared down at Stiles’ text.
Yeah, I’ll be there, he wrote back.
*~*
The pack was crammed into the living room together, talking animatedly about their post-college plans, graduation, the upcoming eclipse, and whether anyone was playing the new Call of Duty. Stiles, Scott, Jackson, Isaac, and Cora were sprawled out on the floor while Lydia and Allison were laughing and scrolling through their phones together on the opposite end of the couch from Derek. He was having trouble focusing on any of the conversations around him. Even by werewolf standards, he was ravenous, already digging into his fourth piece of lasagna.
In the middle of a heated debate about whether Scott, as alpha, had a moral obligation to buy the pack any and all video games they requested—Jackson and Isaac presented a unified front in the affirmative—Stiles perched next to Derek on the arm of the couch and punched Derek lightly on the shoulder. His voice was low as he said, “Hey, big guy. I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Oh yeah?” Derek struggled not to let the sudden, dizzying sensory-overload show on his face. He felt like he needed to lie down, but he held himself still.
He must not have succeeded in masking his discomfort because Stiles frowned and flexed his hand. “Wait, did I get stronger without realizing it? Did that actually hurt you?”
“No,” Derek said firmly. “I’m fine. Punch away.”
Stiles laughed and said, “Don’t tempt me, but seriously. Bone. To. Pick.” He punctuated each word with a finger jabbed into the space between them, his alluring scent wafting over Derek as he moved.
Derek sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, balancing his plate on his lap. “Melissa’s in charge of the balloons for your party. She promised she wouldn’t hold back. Your dad passed on all of your detailed notes.”
Stiles was gaping at him, and he smelled annoyed, which confused Derek. “Okay, I was going to complain that you need to stop letting my dad eat crap when you hang out, but this is more important. You’re tight with Melissa now too?” Stiles demanded.
“Yes?” He’d texted Melissa and the sheriff last night about the balloon situation. At the station yesterday, Stiles had been passionate about its importance.
“Derek,” Stiles said. He narrowed his eyes, but his voice was playful. “You’re not replacing me. I won’t allow it.”
“Noted.” Derek didn’t understand what he was noting, but his forehead felt like it might split open at any minute, and he felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. “I’ll be right back.” He stood abruptly, not looking back at Stiles as he rushed to the kitchen where he slipped out the backdoor and into the yard, still carrying his plate.
Derek sat down at the edge of the porch and breathed in the warm May air. As the pain subsided to a manageable ache, he gazed out at the edge of the woods that backed up against the Stilinskis’ property line. There was still an old swing set, rusting at the edges. The metal seats swayed in the wind, and Derek could make out the faint creak as they shifted, too low for human ears to pick up on.
The door thumped open behind Derek, and the smell of Stiles hit him like a punch to the face, even outside. He was sure his eyes were flashing blue, so he closed them to regain control. His gums and teeth ached.
“Hey.” Stiles sat down, leaving a large gap between them that seemed purposeful. It wasn’t until Stiles said, “Dude, what’s with the long face?” that Derek realized he was glaring down at his plate.
“You know I was just kidding around, right?” Stiles continued. “I mean, yeah, it blows my mind that my dad regularly tells me what a fine young man you are or that Scott keeps, like, listing your merits to me. Enough is enough, I get it, liking Derek is the hip thing to do.”
Derek turned his glare onto Stiles. He could feel his fangs poking through his gums, but he wasn’t actually angry with Stiles. “Was there a point to this?”
“Sorry, yes. My point is that it’s great that you’re Mr. Popularity now. I was just teasing you, and I didn’t mean to actually piss you off for real.”
“You didn’t piss me off,” Derek said quickly, trying to force his face into a more neutral expression. He didn’t like the worried twist to Stiles’ mouth or scent.
“Good.” Stiles gave him an appraising look. “So what’s up then? You seem off.”
Derek sighed. “It’s nothing. Just—full moon’s coming.”
Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t usually seem to bother you, which is shocking since most things seem to bother you.”
Derek rolled his eyes, but he could feel a small smile pressing at the corners of his lips. He saw the moment Stiles caught the smile too, eyes lighting up.
“Anyway, it doesn’t seem like you usually have a problem with full moons,” Stiles said.
“No,” Derek agreed. “It’s not ideal. I think it’s because of the eclipse.”
Stiles nodded slowly. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Stiles took a long sip from his bottle, his head tilting back. Derek couldn’t tear his eyes away from the long line of Stiles’s neck, illuminated by the moon. If only he knew exactly the ways in which Derek wanted him to help, but he continued on, oblivious. “I mean, I was Scott’s Yoda back in the day when the going got tough for him. Happy to share a trick or two with you.” He winked at Derek.
It was a silly gesture, one that he saw Stiles making countless times at literally anyone, but it made Derek feel stupid with want. He swallowed and shook his head, forcing himself to try to act normal. Or at least other people’s version of normal. “Thanks,” he tried, and Stiles gave him an odd, incredulous look. “Really,” he tried again. “It’s nice of you to want to help. But I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Stiles didn’t sound convinced. “Well, you know where to find me. Especially since we’re going to be neighbors and all.”
Derek still hadn’t figured out how he was going to deal with that part of Stiles’ return, the fact that he was going to be moving in with Scott. Maybe there was some sort of ward Deaton or Stiles could make to prevent outside smells from getting into the loft. Maybe Derek could find some sort of mantra that would prevent him from seeking out the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat just one floor below him.
When Derek and Cora had returned to Beacon Hills, Stiles had been away at college in New York. Inch by inch, over the course of Stiles’ visits home, he’d gotten under Derek’s skin. Spending time with Stiles always made time melt away. Nonsensical debates shifted easily into serious conversations, the details of which Stiles recalled with ease. When Derek had attempted an indoor herb garden in the loft, Stiles texted him links full of advice even after he’d returned to New York. It felt too indulgent to let himself imagine Stiles in his dorm room, lost in a research spiral for Derek’s benefit.
Stiles always seemed to have someone back at school waiting for him—and why wouldn’t he?—and last time he’d been home, Derek had overheard him telling Scott that he was done with relationships for a long time.
“You gonna be up for helping me move tomorrow?” Stiles bumped his shoulder against Derek’s. Derek leaned into the touch but winced away when the ache returned to his limbs.
“Yeah,” he said firmly, catching Stiles’ skeptical look. “I’ll be there.”
*~*
Half the pack spent the next afternoon hauling Stiles’ things up to Scott’s apartment. Lydia organized everyone, running the entire operation without carrying a single box or bag. Stiles was the least helpful, insisting that the werewolves—Derek, Scott and Cora—would be much more efficient, though he did finally pitch in when Cora threatened him with bodily harm.
Though it was just one floor down from Derek’s, Scott’s apartment was on the opposite side, facing the street. Derek was desperate enough that he hoped that small bit of logistics would make a difference.
Last night, after he’d talked to Stiles in his backyard, Derek had a niggling feeling that what was going on with him had nothing to do with the full moon. The desire to be wrong forced the thought out of his mind; his suspicions were far-fetched and not worth further consideration anyway.
“Why do you have so many books?” Derek complained as he set two boxes down in the living room. He thought his main purpose today was to help with things like the bed and shelves. The sheer amount of shit Stiles actually had to move was shocking.
“I have a lot of interests,” Stiles replied cheerfully, adding another box to the collection. “Besides, Scott doesn’t own many, so I get to fill the shelves. Feel free to come borrow one any time, neighbor.”
Cora and Scott came in with the last of the book boxes, and after that, it was mainly clothing, game consoles and games, and various kitchenware.
The sheriff and Isaac showed up after their shifts were over, and Derek accepted the sheriff’s offer—insistence—that he stay and have a pizza with everyone.
“It’s the least we can do,” the sheriff said, putting a hand on Derek’s shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Derek could see Stiles watching them, though he was talking animatedly with Scott and Lydia about why they should open a detective agency. Lydia’s disdainful expression didn’t seem to be working as a deterrent.
The pizza was delicious, and Derek, still obscenely hungry, was getting through a whole one on his own. The work had been tiring, even for a werewolf, but Derek felt a thrum of happiness. His head still ached and he didn’t feel himself, but being around the pack like this felt right.
Next to Derek on the couch, Cora and Isaac were squabbling over who could have the last slice of the pepperoni and mushroom. They were lucky to have found each other and made things work, Derek thought as he watched them. Werewolves tended to date outside of their pack; it was less risky if things went wrong.
Derek’s eyes drifted to Stiles on the opposite side of the living room where he and Scott were now perched on two boxes, balancing paper plates on their laps as they ate their pizza. Lydia and the sheriff sat on folding chairs next to them, talking about Lydia’s post-college plans.
Stiles caught Derek looking, and he winked at him. He really needed to stop doing that, Derek thought, as he felt a wave of pain rush through his head.
“Is he a good landlord?” Stiles asked Scott, in a low voice, knowing full well Derek could hear him.
“He’s great,” Scott enthused and grinned at Derek. Stiles rolled his eyes and mouthed gross to Derek.
“Why do you smell so weird?” Cora asked, leaning in to take a whiff of Derek. He knocked her away.
“I smell fine.”
“I noticed it last night too,” Isaac said. “And it kind of seems like you have a tapeworm.”
Cora shook her head. “We can’t get those.”
Derek glared at them. “You’re both insane.”
“Whatever,” Cora said, rolling her eyes. “But if something’s wrong with you, do something about it.”
Stiles wasn’t paying attention to the conversion, but Derek saw Scott studying him with a thoughtful frown.
*~*
Derek felt mostly fine the next day at work. During lunch, Isaac even told him he didn’t smell so weird today, and Derek told him to take the message home to Cora.
With immense relief, Derek thought that his suspicions about the source of his discomfort had been wrong, that really it was just the impending lunar eclipse. He’d had difficult moons before, after all.
But just in case the suspicion that Derek dare not name was the source of his ire, he attempted to turn down the sheriff’s invitation to dinner that night.
The sheriff looked at Derek like he had grown a second head. “But the Dodgers are playing.”
When Derek didn’t say anything, he added, “Don’t worry, Stiles has plans with Scott so he won’t be on my case about the wings.”
He liked hanging out with the sheriff. They reminded him of nights spent watching basketball with his dad, and instead of these reminders hurting, they made Derek happy. And if Stiles wasn’t going to be there, if the lunar eclipse was the issue, then there was no reason Derek had to sacrifice his night.
“Okay then,” Derek happily agreed.
*~*
Stiles showed up at halftime.
At first, everything was fine as he roamed around, lecturing the sheriff on his heart and unhealthy food and cholesterol as he disappeared into the kitchen to hypocritically steal the last of the wings. This disappointed Derek, as he’d been politely waiting until he was sure the sheriff was finished before polishing them off himself.
But then Stiles stood in front of Derek, shaking his head as he said, “Now you’re even taking my seat? Dude. We talked about the whole replacing me thing the other night.”
When Derek started to move, Stiles waved his hands at him and took a seat next to Derek instead. His thigh was pressed up against Derek’s, and Stiles didn’t seem at all concerned by the proximity. He flashed Derek a grin and licked some hot sauce off his fingers.
In seconds, Derek’s skin felt like it was on fire. “I have to go,” he said. “I’m sorry—I. I’m sorry.”
Stiles and the sheriff watched with concern as Derek pushed himself up and headed for the front door. To Derek’s chagrin, Stiles chased him outside.
“Derek, what’s going on with you?” Stiles asked.
“I’m fine. I told you it’s just the eclipse.”
Stiles furrowed his brow. “Dude, I know you keep saying that, but are you sure you don’t need to talk to Deaton? Cora, Scott, and Isaac are all worried about you, and I don’t think any of them are having problems with the moon.”
Derek made a noise of frustration. “I don’t need to talk to Deaton.”
“Okay.” Stiles sighed. He reached into his pocket for his keys, jangling them in the air. “Do you need me to drive you home? You can get your car tomorrow. Or leave the keys and I’ll drive it back to you.”
“You’re not driving my car.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Okay, so plan A then.”
“I’m fine, Stiles,” Derek insisted. “I’ll drive myself. But thanks.”
Stiles watched Derek the whole time he was getting into the Camaro and pulling away. It took almost the whole car ride home until the heat subsided, until he was able to retract his claws.
Despite all the food he’d eaten, Derek was still starving.
When he was back at his building, he parked in his usual spot and sat in the car for a long time. He didn’t know precisely what was going on, but he knew he was probably fucked.
*~*
He had to call out of work the next day. At least the sheriff was expecting it given how abruptly Derek had left last night.
Derek lay in bed, miserably staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t deny the truth of what was happening anymore, even though it still didn’t make sense.
Derek was well-aware that alpha werewolves went into heat every few years. But he wasn’t an alpha anymore, and he hadn’t been one long enough to actually go through his. His symptoms were a perfect match, though.
Around mid-day, there was a pounding at the door. Derek smelled Stiles and Scott before he saw them, and he pressed a frustrated fist against his forehead before he slid the door open.
“What?” He glared.
Stiles pointed at Scott. “I brought back-up.”
“You need to talk to Deaton,” Scott said, jaw set.
“You used to be afraid of me,” Derek muttered.
“The good old days,” Stiles agreed and Scott snorted. “Now we have to be openly concerned about you when it seems like you’re in trouble and acting like an idiot about it.”
Derek wanted to tell Stiles that his presence was actually a huge part of the problem, but he forced himself to say instead, “It’s really okay. I think I figured out what it is.”
“Oh, you think! Fuck that. We’re taking you to Deaton,” Stiles told him, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Please don’t make me do the alpha voice or roar at you or something.” Scott made a face. “You know how much I hate that.”
Derek sighed. “I’ll call Deaton. In private,” he added pointedly and shut the door.
*~*
“I’m not an alpha anymore. This shouldn’t be happening.” Derek sighed, phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes, but this would have marked your fifth year as alpha,” Deaton said. “If a pack is stable, an alpha can expect the cyclical heats to begin anywhere between four and six years after coming to power. What you’re experiencing, Derek, is a phenomenon known as a phantom heat.”
“But why?” Derek asked, clenching the phone tightly in his hand, clinging to a fleeting hope that he was wrong about his suspicions.
“It's rare, but the heat can still be triggered by the presence of a former alpha's mate." Deaton paused. "Or desired mate.”
Derek wanted to roar.
*~*
Twenty minutes later, Derek explained what a phantom alpha heat was to Scott. It was best if Scott knew what was going on so he wouldn’t worry and he’d keep the rest of the pack off of Derek’s back.
But he’d asked a visibly offended Stiles to leave them alone. He didn’t care if Stiles learned about the phantom heat, he told Scott he didn’t have to lie to him, but he didn’t think he could get through the conversation with Stiles right there.
“Oh, dude,” Scott said sympathetically. “That’s rough on your own. I’ve been lucky Allison’s been around for mine. I’ll make sure no one bothers you for the next couple days.”
“Thanks,” Derek said miserably.
*~*
It seemed obvious in retrospect what had been happening to Derek, and even more obvious that Stiles had been the trigger.
But the thing Derek had been blissfully unaware of, the thing that he felt like a moron to have missed, was that the trigger hadn’t started when Stiles had walked into the station or even when Stiles arrived back in town. It had started weeks ago in anticipation of Stiles’ return to Beacon Hills.
Without even realizing what he was doing, Derek had turned his loft into a den. A den designed for Stiles.
It was alarmingly apparent now as he stood in the center of the loft and took in his surroundings with fresh eyes. There was the huge flatscreen mounted on the wall, the DVD collection prominently displayed with all the Star Wars and Fast and the Furious and Jurassic Park films. For fuck’s sake, Derek only liked the first Jurassic Park. But he remembered the time Stiles explained, at length, his investment in the character arcs of the velociraptors and the T-Rex, and Derek had plucked all the movies from the bargain bin at Target.
There was a shiny new Xbox and two controllers underneath the T.V. Derek had never once played.
“Fuck,” Derek said, looking at the counter where he’d left out a box of Strawberry Pop-Tarts in case Stiles dropped by and wanted something to eat.
All these things in isolation were easy to write off, pretend were afterthoughts, but together they painted a horrifying picture.
Derek slunk upstairs and shut his eyes to block out the headache and the ache in his jaw, the heat creeping under his skin.
*~*
He woke, disoriented, to pounding on the door. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and from the angle of the sun, he guessed it was about seven.
As soon as he made his way down the stairs, he smelled Stiles. His heart tripped over itself. His hands rushed to the latch, but his brain caught up in time to remember what a bad idea this would be. Seeing Stiles, having his scent linger in the loft after he was gone, would make this lonely heat even more torturous.
He had to say something, though. If he didn’t respond, Stiles would think something was wrong and only make things more difficult.
Derek rested his forehead against the cool steel frame. His head was starting to ache already with Stiles so close. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Scott told me what’s up,” Stiles said. He smelled anxious, and Derek felt a protective wave rush over him. He wanted to yank the door open, bury his face in Stiles’ neck, pull him inside the loft and into his bed.
“Okay.”
“The thing is, I came to offer my services.”
Derek’s head jerked up. “What?”
“I know about the whole alpha heat thing. Thanks to a whole lot of TMI from Scott. Like, Jesus, there were so many things I would have just rather learned from a book than from discussing it with him, but hey, I guess it’s come in handy now.”
“Stiles, what are you talking about?” Stiles couldn’t mean what it sounded like he meant.
“Just. Open the door. Please?”
Derek’s body obeyed. He opened the door with more force than necessary, the metal clanging in a rush.
Stiles was carrying a large brown paper bag that nearly covered his face, and he put it down inside the loft and let out a loud whew. “Hi.” Stiles smiled a little sheepishly.
“Hi.”
“So like I said, I want to help. Sexually. In case that was not abundantly clear.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
Stiles widened his eyes meaningfully at Derek. “You know this would not be a chore for me, right? You were kind of my bisexual awakening back in high school.”
“Stiles…” Derek started, trying to ignore the thrill that Stiles’ words sent through him, but he didn’t—couldn’t—protest when Stiles took a step closer and tilted his head just slightly. The light turned his eyes a soft amber, and Derek reached up, grabbed a fistful of Stiles’ shirt, and kissed him.
Derek spent so much time watching Stiles’ mouth when they were together, listening to the avalanches of words that poured out of it, imagining kissing it, that he thought he was prepared for the real thing. That there’d be no surprises. But kissing Stiles’s sweet mouth, having it move against his with Stiles’ sole focus on Derek, was beyond anything he’d imagined. Derek felt adored as Stiles carefully explored his mouth with soft strokes of his tongue. He tilted Derek’s head this way and that, testing new angles, his thumbs tender against Derek’s cheekbones. Derek wanted to do this with Stiles forever, nobody else.
That thought was enough to snap Derek out of his haze, and he pushed Stiles away. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that Stiles stumbled back, eyes glassy and unfocused as he blinked at Derek open-mouthed in surprise.
“Dude?” Stiles said, and Derek automatically replied, “Don’t call me dude.”
Stiles gave him a disbelieving look.
Derek apologized in a rush and said, “This is just—this is a really bad idea. What you’re trying to do for me is nice, but unnecessary.”
“Oookay.” Stiles dragged his eyes pointedly down to the bulge in Derek’s jeans. “I don’t think the rest of you got the memo, though.”
“It’s a bad idea,” Derek repeated. “You should go,” he managed.
He could feel himself leaking against his boxers, his jeans too tight. The smell of Stiles was setting his body on fire, and Derek was afraid of what he might do if Stiles didn’t leave in the next thirty seconds. Not just to Stiles but to his jeans and any remaining sense of dignity that lingered.
Stiles held up his hands in surrender. “It’s cool. I shouldn’t have—I’ll go. And if you change your mind, that’s cool too. I’ll just be downstairs.”
*~*
It took under an hour for Derek to change his mind. Or rather, give in to what his mind had actually decided on from the moment Stiles made his offer.
As he rummaged through the bag of food that Stiles had brought him, he couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea or why he’d been so convinced that it would ruin their friendship or mess with Derek’s place in the pack if things went badly. Namely, if Derek wasn’t capable of acting like a normal person after one night with Stiles.
Just because Stiles had brought Derek about eight different kinds of lunch meats, protein bars, energy drinks, and fruit didn’t mean Derek wouldn’t be able to keep his shit together. He pulled out his phone and texted Stiles.
To Stiles’ credit, when he came back upstairs he looked amused. “You still think this is a bad idea?” he asked, leaning in the door frame, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
Derek growled and yanked him inside.
*~*
They kissed messily in the middle of the loft. Derek’s hands were already down the back of Stiles’ sweatpants, cupping his ass when Stiles pulled back.
An embarrassing sound of protest, something very close to a whine, slipped out of Derek’s mouth.
“Shh, hey, no. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to—what do you need? Because I’m cool with pretty much everything. Even the whole knotting thing if that’s something that’s going to help you out.”
The thought of knotting Stiles was almost too much for Derek to process. His cock ached against the fly of his jeans. His fingers pressed tighter into Stiles’ ass, and he tugged him closer.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes on the knotting thing. Condoms?”
Derek shrugged. “If you want.”
Stiles shook his head. “What about—” Stiles swallowed and met Derek’s eyes. “Uh. The mating bite thing?”
Shock was enough to cut through Derek’s singular focus of getting them naked as quickly as possible. “I’m not going to accidentally give you a mating bite,” he promised.
“I wasn’t worried you we’re going to. I was—I was offering.” Stiles flushed. “It’s not a permanent thing. And it’s supposed to make the sex pretty intense, and break the heat faster. We’d just need to be apart for, what, a week before it faded? Think we could manage that.”
Right now, the thought of being apart from Stiles for five minutes let alone a week sounded like a nightmare, but Derek nodded.
Stiles looked curious. Hopeful, even.
“That’s something you want to do?” Derek asked. He resolutely refused to look directly at Stiles’ mouth as Stiles ran his tongue along his bottom lip.
“I like to try most things at least once, yeah. And oh my god it’s so hard to have this conversation while you’re doing that.” Derek’s hands were still down the back of Stiles’ pants, roaming. He didn’t stop.
“I know knotting and mating bites can be a big deal,” Stiles continued, breathing growing ragged. They were still flush against one another, and Derek was slowly grinding himself against Stiles. “So I don’t want you to think I’m, like, disrespecting that. I just know they help with the heat, and I’m curious, and I think at this point we’re both mature enough to admit we’re friends.”
The word friends bumped up against more pressing thoughts like picturing his knot buried in Stiles’ ass while he sunk his teeth into the tender expanse of skin on Stiles’ long neck, claiming him.
“Yes,” Derek agreed, and then he was surging forward and kissing Stiles again because this time he hadn’t been able to ignore the way Stiles bit his lower lip in thought.
Derek wanted this. All of it. He could close off the part of his brain screaming mate and enjoy this experience for what it was. Plenty of other werewolves had. Teenage werewolves did it all the time, claiming and mating and then letting the bond fade out along with their quick-burning love. Derek had never given a mating bite to anyone before, but he’d always wondered what it would feel like. He’d never wanted it more than he did with Stiles.
“Bed?” Stiles murmured against his lips between long kisses.
Derek dragged them both to the back of the loft, keeping Stiles as close to him as he could. The thought of his bed smelling like Stiles, like both of them together, made Derek’s fangs drop.
He pushed Stiles onto the rumpled sheets and climbed over him, bending forward to nip and lick at Stiles’ neck. The salty-sweet taste of him was perfect, and he was going to let Derek mark him there.
“God you’re gorgeous,” Stiles said, awed, when Derek pulled back enough so he could drink in the sight of Stiles underneath him, disheveled, mouth red. Derek was thinking the same thing. If he didn’t get Stiles naked in the next thirty seconds, he thought he might lose his mind.
He reached for Stiles’ shirt, and Stiles shifted so Derek could tug it off. Derek nipped his way down Stiles’ chest, nuzzling at the fuzzy trail of hair on his belly disappearing beneath his sweatpants, which Derek pulled off of him next. Stiles had filled out over the years, his body sleek, muscular. Derek’s mouth watered.
The hard outline of Stiles’ cock tented his boxers, and when Derek went for them, Stiles grabbed his wrist.
Derek froze, worried Stiles was having second thoughts.
“Come on now,” Stiles said. “What about you?”
Derek growled, but he took off his clothes too, and after he stripped his shirt off, he found Stiles lying there naked, dick hard and red and straining towards his belly. Derek was back on him in an instant, touching Stiles everywhere.
They ground against each other, Derek’s erection already leaking steadily as it dragged across Stiles’ cock, his stomach, his thighs. It felt like he couldn’t get close enough to Stiles, wanted to wrap himself up in the scent that had been driving him wild this whole week.
“Tell me what you want,” Stiles said, between kisses. His hands were stroking Derek’s hips and his breath was warm against Derek’s lips.
“What I really want is for you to fuck me,” Derek answered, and Stiles let out a sound close to a whimper. “But I think—if you want me to knot you and give you the mating bite like that. I’d like that too. And it’ll be better for you after too.”
“That. Let’s do that. Your turn next,” Stiles promises. “After, I will do you so good. As much as you want, I swear. But yeah, please, let’s do that.”
He found that Stiles was already loose, opening easily for Derek’s fingers. The thought of Stiles preparing and pleasuring himself made Derek ache with want. When he bent forward to lick the pre-come where it was slicking the crown of Stiles’ dick, Stiles stopped him. “You look—Jesus, you look so fucking good. Come here.”
The smell of Stiles’ desire was so strong it was dizzying. The heat haze surged, and Derek was doing everything in his power not to mindlessly mount Stiles and fuck him into the mattress.
Stiles pulled Derek up, and said, “Don’t hold back. Come on, I know you must be dying for this. You look like you’re dying for this.” His pupils were blown wide, and he licked at his lower lip. Derek hadn’t even really gotten started and already Stiles looked debauched.
Derek could barely speak. He felt overheated, his cock so hard it hurt. His fangs were prickling at his gums again. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice rough. “You have no idea.”
His hands were still coated with lube, but he poured more on. Stiles hooked his legs around Derek, urging him close as Derek lined himself up. Then he was sliding inside like Stiles was made to fit him. “Fuck,” Derek gasped, overwhelmed as he bottomed out. All the air left his body as he fought for control. He was so keyed up, so on the edge, that he felt like he might just blow his load in Stiles right then and there.
“You good, big guy?” Stiles teased, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes were so dark as he looked up at Derek, the heart of Derek’s fantasies brought to life. “I told you, don’t hold back. Fuck me like you mean it.” He shifted his hips, and then Derek was fucking him. Really fucking him. Of course, he meant it.
They kissed messily the whole time, Derek sucking Stiles’ tongue into his mouth as he rammed into him again and again.
When he felt himself on the razor’s edge, his knot starting to form, he hooked his hands under Stiles’ knees and bent forward, the angle allowing him to deepen his thrusts. Stiles shuddered under his hands, “Oh fuck, Derek.” He turned so his neck was exposed, gleaming white against the dark sheets. “Do it, please. C’mon, I’m ready.”
Derek felt his knot forming, catching against the rim of Stiles’ ass with each thrust until Derek was locked inside. As he came, he let his fangs drop, and he sank his teeth into Stiles’ neck.
The sounds that came out of Stiles made Derek nearly black out with pleasure.
*~*
“Holy fuck,” Stiles said the second time he fucked Derek that night. “How is this real? How does it feel this much fucking better just because you bit me?”
After they both came, Stiles flopped back against the headboard in a boneless heap, reaching for Derek who gladly curled in close. It felt so good in these moments right after he came and the heat abated just enough that Derek felt his head clear, that he could just enjoy the warmth of Stiles’ skin against his. Stiles caught his breath, and Derek could tell there was something on his mind. He could feel something sharp through the mating bite, curiosity.
“What is it?” Derek asked.
“It’s not just alphas that can give mating bites, but only alphas go into heat, right?” Stiles asked. He didn’t seem to realize he was stroking the bite, that it sent blood straight to Derek’s cock, bringing the heat haze back.
“No one knows for sure. But there’s speculation. The heats are—the heats are more specific to alphas to encourage them to find a mate, to have children. For the pack. But yeah all werewolves can take a mate. The connection is still powerful.”
“Oh,” Stiles said, awed.
“And it’s why it feels better for you,” Derek added. “You’re feeling echoes of what I’m feeling. Our bodies are in tune.”
Stiles grinned at him. “Humans sure don’t know what they’re missing out on. I wish I could bite you back too. Would it be better for you if I could?”
Derek shrugged. He liked the idea of being marked by Stiles, liked it a lot, but it didn’t bother him he couldn’t. “Maybe. But plenty of werewolves have human mates. I don’t know if it’s better, just different. There are other ways werewolves can symbolically show that they’re mated to a human.”
“Like a tattoo?” Stiles reached around Derek to stroke two fingers down the triskele, and it made Derek shiver with pleasure.
“Yes.”
“Would you ever? For a human mate?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek curiously.
“Probably,” Derek admitted.
*~*
They slept for a while, but Derek woke up in the middle of the night, so hard it was painful. He didn’t need to wake Stiles up; he was already moving towards Derek. The mating bite, Derek realized belatedly. He knew when Derek needed him.
All he had to do was spread his legs and Stiles was kissing Derek’s neck, kneeling between his legs, and pressing inside where Derek was still slick and ready for him.
“More,” Derek moaned. More more more. An image of Stiles knotting him kept popping into Derek’s mind, revving him up all over again even though he’d just come on Stiles’ cock. Of course, the idea of Stiles knotting him was just a fantasy. Even if any of the rumors he’d heard over the years about how a mating bite could eventually change a human mate were true, that kind of change would take much longer than a few hours.
“I’m trying,” Stiles panted, pistoning his hips as he fucked Derek harder. “Believe me, Derek, I want to give you more. I really do. But even with your mark, I’m a mere mortal.”
At the words your mark, Derek came again with a low groan, clenching tight around Stiles as his body shook.
This time when Stiles came, he nuzzled Derek’s neck, smoothed comforting hands over his burning skin. Derek was so desperate for Stiles, he felt out of his mind with it, even now when he could still feel Stiles’ come dripping down his thighs. “We have like a thirty-minute window here until you’re ready to go again, and I think we’ve used up all my mana.”
Derek cringed and pulled a face at Stiles.
“I thought maybe that might snap you outta this,” Stiles said with a laugh. His eyes were tired but he looked pleased with himself. “Did it work?”
“No.”
“Okay, so my plan B is if you really do need more…more more. Maybe there’s something else I can do for you?”
Stiles’ gaze was purposeful, and he was absentmindedly stroking Derek’s thigh. Derek didn’t think Stiles realized how much it grounded him. Maybe the mating bite gave him that instinct.
Being the center of Stiles’ attention, his care, overwhelmed Derek. It was more than he’d ever let himself imagine.
“I—” Derek hesitated, losing his nerve.
“No, tell me. What? You want me to rim you? Finger you?”
A wave of hazy desire crashed over Derek. “Yes,” he said emphatically. He loved Stiles’ mouth, his long, beautiful fingers. “But that’s not—I’ll show you.”
He rolled to his side and reached under the bed, sliding out the box he kept underneath. Heat rushed to Derek’s face as he pulled out the dildo that he liked best. Red silicon with a thick, sloped tip. A knot at the base.
From behind him, he could hear Stiles swallow hard, smelled a sharp spike of fresh arousal. “You use that on yourself a lot?” Stiles took the dildo from him with shaking hands.
Derek shifted back on the bed, got on his hands and knees. “Sometimes,” he said evenly.
Stiles didn’t need to, but he started off with his tongue and fingers, just like he’d offered. Derek could feel his eyes flashing as he shoved his face into the pillow, his claws tore into the sheets by his side.
When Derek had been an alpha, he’d expected the heat to be a mindless, unfocussed thing. Pure instinct taking over. Losing all sense of yourself and the one you were with. But it wasn’t like that now with Stiles. Derek never lost sight of who he was with. Never stopped thinking Stiles Stiles Stiles as he worked himself back on the dildo, opened himself up enough to finally let the knot work its way inside of him.
Stiles kept making these soft, strangled sounds that drove Derek crazy.
“I’m actually—if you want—I’m ready.” Stiles sounded wrecked like he was the one getting fucked.
“Yes,” Derek whined.
It barely took two perfect minutes for Derek to come with a howl when Stiles replaced the dildo with his dick.
*~*
“I’m so hungry.” Derek hadn’t meant it as a request, but to his surprise, Stiles rolled onto his back and said, “Give me a minute, I’ll get you something.”
Dawn was breaking outside. They’d spent the night in a haze of fucking and sleeping, and Derek was ravenous again now.
Stiles was humming to himself as he moved around the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and then the fridge. The clank of pots and pans being shifted, the smell of butter and eggs filling the loft felt like home.
“Oh, man,” Stiles called to him while the eggs were presumably cooking. He couldn’t see from where the bed was positioned, but Derek could hear butter sizzling. “You didn’t tell me you got an Xbox. Or that you have good taste in DVDs. You have all the Star Wars! Dude, you’re having Scott and me over, right? He still hasn’t seen them like a total asshole.”
Stiles went quiet for a little while, but then he started speaking again as he rifled through all the things that Derek had bought while thinking of him. The running commentary on the games and movies Derek did and did not possess distracted Stiles so much that he almost burned the eggs, but he rescued them in time and soon returned with protein bars and bottles of energy drinks and water tucked under his arms too.
Odd, sour notes of worry or maybe fear laced Stiles’ scent, but they faded away after he slipped back into bed next to Derek, who gratefully ate and drank everything Stiles provided. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let anyone care for him like this, the last time anyone had wanted to.
“We reek,” Stiles announced when they were finished eating. “And I’ve been doing my best to clean us up, but I still feel like we’re probably covered in buckets worth of dried jizz.”
“We can shower if you want,” Derek offered with a shrug. He wasn’t willing to admit how much he liked the way they smelled, but Stiles seemed to sense or read something in his expression that gave Derek away.
Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. “I just made you an awesome meal, so even though you probably have some weird werewolf thing about this, I’m gonna make the executive decision that we clean up.” He dragged Derek out of bed.
The tell-tale pinpricks of heat were back, lust starting to coil low in Derek’s belly. He wanted to bury his face in Stiles’ neck, lick at the mark and make sure it smelled like both of them.
They showered together and Stiles jerked Derek off twice with the warm spray falling down around them, kissing him the whole time and letting Derek come all over him again. Though Derek felt perfectly capable, Stiles rubbed body wash all over Derek’s body, massaging the skin gently as he went.
He let Derek return the favor, and Derek savored each moment he got to touch Stiles this way. More than just the heat or sex, but to care for him.
Even after a thorough wash, Derek could still smell himself all over Stiles. It sent a satisfied shiver across his body as he breathed him in.
“Is this your first heat?” Stiles asked when they returned to the bed.
Derek rolled onto his back and stared up at the exposed ceiling beams. “I wasn’t an alpha long enough to have one before.” He didn’t think back happily on those days. He and Isaac still visited Boyd and Erica’s graves. Once on their bitten birthdays and again on the days they’d died. He missed them terribly. They would have been so much happier now with the pack as stable as it was.
“You would have become a great alpha if you’d had the chance,” Stiles said quietly.
Derek gives him a tiny smile, though he’s not sure if he believes it himself. “I never wanted to be an alpha,” Derek admits. It was always supposed to be Laura, but he didn’t want to talk about that now. “The way things are…I’m okay with it. Things are good.”
“Yeah you’ve—you’ve really settled in here. You seem happier.”
Derek nodded. “Beacon Hills is my home. My pack’s home. I needed time away, but I’m glad I came back.”
Stiles gave him a wry smile. “I know what you mean about needing time away. I’ve been looking at jobs all over the country, some abroad even. And it’s like…I can’t figure out what the thing is that I actually want to do or the thing is that I think I should want to do. You feel me?”
Derek nodded even though he hadn’t grappled with that distinction since before the fire. The untangling of what you wanted and what your peers or society told you you wanted. Survival had driven him for so long that now he felt content to want simple things. Mostly simple things—he watched as Stiles realized he had something in his mouth and stuck his tongue out to pull it off—Stiles was not a simple thing.
“Got it,” Stiles announced, making a face. “Hair in my mouth. Bet you couldn’t have guessed how sexy things were going to get up in here.”
Derek laughed and then Stiles laughed too.
“Damn, Derek,” Stiles said when their laughter had died down. “I’m glad you came back too. It’s been nice getting to know the real you.”
Derek felt himself flush. He almost said, I’m happy you’re back too, but found it was impossible to speak.
Derek was too afraid to ask if Stiles could see more than friendship between them, if he’d changed his mind about not wanting a relationship with anyone. If life in Beacon Hills was the thing he wanted or the thing he thought he should want. If he thought there was a chance Beacon Hills was where he might stay for good.
“Thanks, Stiles,” he finally managed.
Stiles reached for him and pulled Derek close. Derek fell asleep on his chest, Stiles carding his fingers soothingly through his hair. Stiles was a good heat partner, Derek thought as he drifted off. He was lucky to have him in his life, as a friend, as a packmate.
*~*
The heat broke the next afternoon, sunlight drenching Stiles’ skin as Derek knotted him for the last time. Derek mouthed at the mating bite, coming and coming and coming deep inside of Stiles. Wanting to stay locked inside forever even as he could feel himself coming back down to earth.
Derek should have told him. But instead, he let Stiles doze off with his arms wrapped around Derek, mouth hanging wetly open against Derek’s shoulder.
*~*
Stiles paused at the door, freshly showered, his hair still damp. They hadn’t taken one together the last time. “Sure you don’t need anything else?”
If Derek stretched his senses, he could still pick up on faint traces of himself on Stiles’ skin, the mingling of their scents. The mark was hidden by his hoodie.
No, Derek thought. I’m not sure at all. “Yes,” Derek said. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’m good, really. Thanks again.”
“Okay. See you at the graduation party next week, I guess? That should be enough time for the bite to fade and return us to our regularly scheduled programming.”
Derek kept his expression carefully neutral. “Sure.”
And then Stiles was gone. Derek’s hand went up to the place on his neck, imagining a phantom mark in the place where he’d marked Stiles. Wishing he had it then just so he could keep a piece of Stiles with him for a little longer.
Derek followed the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat and footsteps to the stairwell, down to his floor, and when he heard the click of the key turning in the lock he stopped listening and had no idea what to do with himself.
*~*
There was nothing but Derek and the ground beneath his feet as he raced through the Preserve, Scott at his heels. In full shift, Derek had a speed advantage over the rest of the pack, even the alpha, but it didn’t seem to be helping now. All he wanted was to focus on the earthy aroma the redwoods gave off strongest in spring, but hints of Stiles’ scent managed to break through. Before agreeing to a run with Scott, Derek should have considered how running with Stiles’ roommate might not have been a good idea.
As freeing as it was to shed his human side, the wolf in him still craved his mate. That part of him was unaware that they’d intended for the bite to be temporary.
They darted through the gaps between the thin trees, and they only stopped running when they reached the spring where the old-growth redwoods watched over the land. Last year, Derek had set about replacing the moss-covered picnic tables and the broken tire swing. As children, Derek and his sisters had played here, Laura packing peanut butter sandwiches and M&M’s in their mother’s big picnic basket.
He’d planned on showing Stiles when he visited for summer break, but he’d ended up getting an internship in New York and had only flown home for a week. There never seemed to be a good opportunity to invite him.
“You doing okay? You smell sad,” Scott said after they’d both shifted back.
They’d started their run from this spot, and Derek retrieved his bag of clothes. He was pulling on his jeans when he said wryly, “I told you it’s considered rude for werewolves to comment on that kind of thing.”
Scott had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I just know it was, uh, really tough after my heat. I mean, I’ve only had the one earlier this year, but it was really hard being separated from Allison at first.”
Derek shrugged and looked towards the spring, sunlight glittering over the water. Being apart from his mate, temporary as their intentions had been, wasn’t pleasant, but it was hardly the worst thing he’d experienced. It wasn’t all that much different to what he felt when Stiles had been away at school. The longing and loneliness familiar but more acute.
“It’ll fade,” Derek said. He shoved a white t-shirt over his head and yanked it down his torso. “Werewolves do it all the time for fun.” He felt self-conscious, suddenly, discussing this with Scott. Stiles was like a brother to Scott, and Derek certainly never wanted to hear Cora or Isaac talk about their mating bites and sex life. Cora was his sister and Isaac would always be Derek’s beta.
They started back down the trail in the direction of the gravel parking lot where they’d left the Camaro and Scott’s motorbike. The sun was warm on Derek’s back, and he felt a trickle of sweat running down his spine.
“All I’m saying is, it might be…strange at first,” Scott continued. “Allison and I were different around each other after. It was like something had shifted, and we had to adjust. The bite took longer than we expected to fade. Allison wasn’t ready for it full time then.”
“Scott…”
“Look, dude, I’m not trying to interfere or stick my nose into anything.” He held up his hands. “I know the bite makes the heat go faster for alphas and you gave me the, uh, extended werewolves and the bees talk ages ago so I know about the other benefits of it.”
“Okay,” Derek said, ducking underneath a low-lying branch cutting across the path. Derek never talked about his feelings for Stiles with anyone in the pack. He didn’t really want to start now.
“I just wanted to say it’s not my place to get involved with whatever happened, but I want you to know that even if it’s weird as hell between you two now, you’re both my pack. And you’re each other’s pack, so I know if it’s weird, you’ll find a way to unweird it. And you better be at our graduation party,” Scott warned.
Derek knew he ought to feel patronized or mortified, but the words sent warmth through him. It felt good to hear his standing in his pack was solid, even though deep down he’d already known. The mark would fade, Derek would attend the party, and things would be fine between him and Stiles.
“Of course I’ll be there.” Derek rolled his eyes. The path sloped downward, turning steep, and he leaped over jagged stones and worn wooden steps to land at the bottom. “I think your mom and the sheriff would kill me if I didn’t show up.”
Scott laughed, using the stones where the steps were too far gone to support his weight, taking his time coming down. Probably just to annoy Derek. “And we’re going to the Preserve after for the eclipse,” Scott said. “You can’t miss that, man.”
When they made it through the narrowest part of the trail, they fell back into step together. Derek’s shoulders had relaxed, and his body felt less weighed down by the persistent ache inside his chest. Scott smelled more like himself and the woods now, less like Stiles. Derek asked what he’d really wanted to all along. “Stiles is—Stiles is okay, right?”
Any kind of contact was supposed to be kept at a minimum. They’d only had one brief text exchange. Stiles had said he was fine, that he’d enjoyed it, and Derek hadn’t known how to say that he had too, but that he wasn’t sure he was fine.
Scott glanced over at him, smile a little sad. “Stiles isn’t the one I’m worried about.”
*~*
A cacophony of sounds greeted Derek when he arrived at the Stilinski house for the graduation party—laughter, shouting, a balloon popping. And through it all, Derek could immediately find Stiles’ cheerfully argumentative voice before he spotted him towards the back of the yard with Lydia, Allison, and Jackson. It was a warm day, and all the guests seemed overjoyed to be at a barbecue in shorts and summer dresses. The sheriff was manning the grill, smoke flying up around him as he flipped burgers. The smell of meat made Derek’s mouth water, and he didn’t protest when the sheriff shouted to him to come over and grab one fresh off the grill.
The whole pack was gathered along with family friends who had known the Stilinskis and McCalls for years. There were people from the precinct that Derek stopped to exchange pleasantries with, and he was surprised to find Scott’s father had shown up. Melissa broke away from their conversation to greet Derek with a hug and a kiss on his cheek.
A black and gold CONGRATULATIONS banner sat suspended between two balloon stands. Bright streamers hung from tree branches, and balloons—the ones Derek had helped pick—were tied to the tops of foldout chairs around tables full of food and drinks.
Derek and Stiles didn’t avoid each other, exactly, but there were always people around, serving as a buffer. Stiles kept darting furtive looks at him that Derek couldn’t decipher. Derek drifted over to where Cora and Isaac were subtly spiking their beers with wolfsbane, and stayed planted by their sides.
It wasn’t until Derek had gone inside to use the bathroom that he and Stiles had a moment alone.
“Hey,” Stiles said, straightening up from where he’d been leaning on the counter when Derek entered the kitchen. He’d clearly been waiting for Derek.
“Hey,” Derek replied.
There was a long pause where they stared at one another, and Derek’s heart sank as he caught a whiff of Stiles’ nerves.
“Did I trigger your heat?” Stiles asked finally, voice pitched low enough that Derek knew the other wolves wouldn’t hear him over the sounds outside unless they were listening very, very closely. The polite ones—so Scott, maybe—would tune out at this point if they did catch the question.
“Phantom heat,” Derek corrected pointlessly.
The room was too hot and his skin was too tight, but Derek held himself perfectly still. Derek’s evasion was apparently answer enough for Stiles.
“I didn’t—I didn’t realize until later,” Stiles said. “The first week I was back, that was why you were so weird. It was whenever I was around.”
“Yeah.”
Stiles scrutinized him. “Did you know?”
“I suspected,” he admitted. He hadn’t realized it was something Stiles might figure out on his own, though of course there was always a risk of that when it came to Stiles. It had struck Derek as a deeply personal secret, but perhaps Stiles had had a right to know. “I’m sorry if…if I should have said something. If you feel misled.”
“No,” Stiles said quickly. “That’s not what I’m getting at. I totally get why you wouldn’t say anything. I’m just trying to figure out when you—” he gestured frantically between them.
“A while.” Derek sighed and crossed his arms.
Someone called Stiles’ name from outside, but Stiles didn’t look away from Derek. His lips were parted in surprise. It was a rarity to see Stiles stunned into silence. Derek fixed his gaze on the mounted carving of a sea bass on the wall above Stiles’ head and hoped that Stiles would just land the final blow and make it quick.
Stiles swallowed. “I don’t think you realize how good you are, Derek. Way way way better than me, and somehow you have your shit together more than I do, and when did that happen? I still feel like I’m seeing several different versions of you at once and it makes my brain explode sometimes.”
“I get it, Stiles.” This was agonizing. Derek just wanted to go back outside and move on from this moment. He’d gotten to spend his phantom heat with Stiles, it had already been more than he’d hoped for.
Stiles let out a frustrated breath, ran agitated fingers through his hair that left it sticking up in haphazard spikes. “My meds are wearing off and none of this is coming out right. Derek, what if I’m—”
He didn’t finish the thought because the backdoor slammed open and Isaac marched inside. “Hey, asshole,” Isaac interrupted, nudging Stiles. “Come cut your cake.”
“This isn’t a wedding!” Stiles threw up both hands in exasperation. “Have some fucking cake without me!”
Isaac scoffed. “I know that, but your dad and Melissa told me to get you.”
Stiles cast a furtive look back at Derek as they followed Isaac back outside. “Finish this later?” he said, a pleading note to the request.
“Okay,” Derek found himself agreeing, though he thought getting shot by a wolfsbane bullet might hurt less.
*~*
The party started to die down in the early evening, and the pack helped the sheriff clean up the grill, fold up the tables, throw out the trash, and bring all the leftover food inside. Then they clambered into their cars and headed for the Preserve, the pull of the full moon riling everyone up. Cora rolled down the window of her and Isaac’s Prius so she could heckle Derek for driving like a grandma even though he was in a damn Camaro.
“My boyfriend drives faster than you, and he made us buy a Prius.”
“It’s an environmentally conscious decision, Cor. What the fuck?” Isaac said. He was then distracted as Jackson honked his horn, Lydia and Allison cheering as he passed Cora and Isaac’s car.
Derek kept checking his rear mirrors, eyes catching on the Jeep every time. At a red light, with the Jeep idling behind him, he caught a glimpse of Stiles and Scott in the middle of what looked like a serious discussion. Scott looked thoughtful, brow furrowed as he listened to Stiles who was waving his hand over the steering wheel as he spoke. If Derek listened in, he might have been able to hear even over the loud rumbling of the Jeep, but he was careful to control his senses. Stiles was chewing his lower lip when the light turned green and Derek’s attention snapped back to the road.
The sun had set by the time they parked, the sky in shades of purple and red. The pack made their way through the trees, Cora running ahead and howling as she led them deep into the woods, to the spring where Derek and Scott had run a few days before.
The moon was at perigee, hanging huge and low on the horizon, and for the first few hours, as they waited for the eclipse, they all crowded together on the thick picnic blankets that Allison and Lydia had brought, pulling drinks from the coolers full of leftover drinks the sheriff had sent along with them. Stiles and Derek kept catching one another’s eyes and looking away quickly.
Around 3AM, the wolves started to get antsy, the full eclipse rapidly approaching. Jackson and Isaac wanted to go for a swim first and after the eclipse go for a long pack run to end the night. Lydia and Allison were deep into a bottle of wine, but they agreed to swim after the wolves cajoled them into it, Scott and Cora in full support of the swim.
Stiles caught Derek’s eye and jerked his head in a follow-me motion. He trailed after Stiles a little ways back from the pack while everyone else was stripping down, starting to leap into the spring.
“Do you want to…Would you want to watch the eclipse with me and talk? Then you can, you know, go running with the pack when you’re all wolfy again. I mean, if you’d rather swim that is totally fine, dude.”
“We can talk,” Derek agreed. It would be better to have this conversation sooner rather than later. Things would go back to normal between them, and the pack wouldn’t be dragged down by any ripples of discontent caused by them.
Stiles snatched one of the blankets and carried it further up the bank, following a line of thickly bunched, overgrown ferns. Derek could see fine in the dark, but he used the flashlight on his phone to light Stiles’ path for him, and Stiles shot him a grateful smile. He rolled out the blanket and sat down, patting the spot next to him, and Derek joined him. The distance gave the illusion of privacy, though they weren’t really all that far from the pack. Stiles smelled anxious again, and Derek didn’t like it.
“Want me to go back for the wine that was left?” Stiles offered. “You’ll actually be able to enjoy it—” But he cut himself off, eyes going wide as they caught on the moon.
They were bathed in a red glow then as the sun passed in front of the moon, reflecting its eerily beautiful color across the glassy surface of the spring. Derek felt a shift within him. The loss of his strength, his power, his wolf.
Even with the pack shouting and splashing in the water, they wouldn’t hear the conversation between Derek and Stiles. It was a small mercy, and Derek braced himself for Stiles to explain why what had happened had been a mistake. How it had been too much and he needed space from Derek, from their friendship.
All his power had been stripped from him already, what was one more vulnerability? Without preamble, Derek said bluntly, “Stiles, it’s fine if you’re not interested in me that way. I didn’t think you were, and you didn’t give me the wrong idea when you helped me through my heat. We’re still pack.”
“Not interested in you?” Stiles boggled at him, and Derek’s heart skipped a beat. Even with his diminished vision, even without his sense of smell, the confusion on Stiles was obvious in the pale orange-red light of the moon. “That’s not it at all. Christ, Derek, everyone in this pack loves you. I will be skinned alive if, and probably when, I fuck this up. Scott told me he would be very disappointed in me if I hurt you. Can you imagine what Cora and Isaac would do? Let alone my dad? So I just. I had to think this week.”
Before Derek had a chance to take this all in, Stiles pulled down the collar of his shirt. The mark was a dark shape on Stiles’ neck, stark against his pale skin.
It hadn’t faded at all.
“I thought maybe the timelines for how long the bite took to fade were just different for different people. Averages lie and all that. But I don’t think that’s it,” Stiles said, finger still on his collar, keeping the mark exposed.
Derek couldn’t stop staring, and without meaning to, he leaned forward for a better look. The mark was just as strong as if Derek had bitten him yesterday. “What do you think it is?” he managed finally, his voice raw.
Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flickering shut for a moment before he spoke. “That I’m sure I don’t want it to fade. That’s what I was trying to say before. When I realized how you felt—I was afraid. All of a sudden you were real. The potential of you and me kind of scared me shitless because I knew it could be…long-term.” He gestured at the mark with his free hand and let out a short laugh. “I had to be sure before I talked to you. I guess my heart was ahead of my head on this one.”
Derek’s heart pounded; he was sure even a human miles away could hear it. He didn’t want Stiles to think that the mark meant he didn’t have a choice. Mating bites could be powerful and lasting if you wanted them to be, but they could be fleeting fun too. If Stiles hadn’t understood that before, Derek needed him to understand that now.
“Stiles, if you want it to, the mark will fade with time. Just because there’s potential here doesn’t mean the timing is right or that you have to give up all those other things in the world you might want away from here that I can’t give you.” He thought of the jobs Stiles had waiting back for him in New York or anywhere else in the world he wanted to go. No amount of desire on Derek’s part would allow him to get in the way of Stiles getting everything he wanted out of life.
Stiles gave a shaky laugh. “My dad said that if I told you I was ready I better mean it—” Stiles dropped his voice an octave, made it gruffer in a parody of the sheriff—“‘That boy has been through too much already, Stiles. Don’t give him more shit’.”
Stiles reached for Derek, hand just above his elbow.
“You always give me shit,” Derek murmured.
“I know.” Stiles smiled then shook his head, expression turning serious again. He moved his hand up, cupped the back of Derek’s neck. “But at least until the eclipse is done, I’m not giving you any shit, okay? I’m going to tell you that everything I want is here with you. You’re stuck with me for as long as you want me.”
Forever, Derek thought without hesitation, but he bit back the word for now. He kissed Stiles, instead, letting the feel of being with his mate wash over him. He kissed Stiles all over his face, lips scraping against light stubble, down his jawline and to the mark on his neck and then back up again to his beautiful mouth.
Stiles kissed him in that same attentive way he had during the heat, and it was even better now, his hand still strong and sure on the back of Derek’s neck, thumb pressing into the same spot as Stiles’ mating bite.
When they pulled away, Derek felt breathless. “Would you mark me?” he asked. “While I’m still human?” It wouldn’t be the same as being bitten by another wolf, but Derek didn’t care.
Stiles blinked at him. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice wavering.
"Yes,” Derek insisted. They didn’t have long now, he could feel the strength of the moon returning, a prickle under his skin. He was sure, so sure.
Stiles leaned in, licking and sucking at Derek’s neck, a soft moan escaping his lips. Derek could feel the blood rising to the surface, a hickey forming under Stiles’ attentive mouth.
“Bite me,” Derek hissed, and Stiles dug his teeth into Derek’s neck. It wasn’t enough to break the skin, but Derek could feel the indents of Stiles’ teeth after he’d pulled back.
Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’re my mate too?” His voice was still shaky, but there was amusement in it.
Derek laughed quietly. “Already was.”
As the eclipse ended and Derek’s power returned, he knew the mark Stiles left had already healed, but if his feelings for Stiles had been enough to cause a phantom heat, he knew they were strong enough that he’d be able to feel the phantom mark on his skin like a brand.
Along with Derek’s power, Stiles’ delicious scent rushed back to him. All the earlier anxiety was gone. In its place was something much sweeter, like apples, peaches.
Tenderness. Affection. Maybe even love.
Down the bank, the pack began to howl. The desire to rejoin them, to run with them, flooded Derek’s heart.
Stiles looked up at the moon, a slow smile spreading on his face. “You know, I’ve never actually seen the full shift. I’ve heard about it, but…if you want to show me?”
Stiles had been away at school when Derek had mastered the full shift, and this was the first full moon Derek had seen him since.
Derek nodded, filled with pride at the thought of showing off to Stiles. Showing himself to Stiles.
The shift rippled over Derek, his wolf longing to come out. Stiles was grinning wildly at him. Derek howled, and it was full of joy. The rest of his pack called back to him, and Stiles let out a whoop, kneeling down so he could throw his arms around Derek’s neck.
The wolf breathed in deep. He knew what the human side of Derek now knew too. He’d found his mate, his pack, and he was home.