For Stiles, it was easier to ignore the messages in his phone than try to muster up the courage to tell his friends that he was not up for a night out. Ever since he and Lydia broke up, their friends had made it a point to have outings with both of them so no one felt left out. Stiles didn’t even feel that sad anymore, he just didn’t want to pretend to be happy for once.
He was idly toying with the idea of turning his phone off when he heard a tap on the window. Before Stiles could sit up, the window opened and in slid Derek Hale looking like he’s bored already.
“Good. You’re alive,” he said.
“What?” he was still half-asleep, half-consumed-by-thoughts. He sat up leaning against the headboard.
“Your dad’s been trying to reach you. You were supposed to have lunch together?”
He grabbed the phone by the night stand. Yes, right under the three hundred messages from the group chat, four missed calls from his dad. Stiles had been so lost in his own thought spiral that he completely forgot about it. He pressed the call button and got ready for the dressing down.
Instead, as soon as his father answered, he heard him say, “thank god you’re okay.”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I fell asleep again,” he lied.
Stiles heard a door close, the volume of his father’s voice dropped lower. “Stiles, I told you we’re investigating a series of murders, why is your phone silent?”
“I’m sorry, Dad, really. Lunchtime totally went by. Why is Derek here?”
“I’m glad you’re okay. Tell Derek I appreciate it.”
“Well, I don’t appreciate it, Dad! I could’ve been busy. What if I had a girl back home?”
“Stiles, you’ve been moping about Lydia for way too long. I’d be glad if you were having fun. Safely.”
“Dad!” Stiles protested. He didn’t want his father to give him any kind of talk again.
“We’ll talk more about this when I get home. Try to get out of bed. I know Scott is having a thing.”
“See you tonight, Dad. I’m not going anywhere. Bye.” He hung up before his dad could protest.
He turned to face Derek who was standing next to his desk, frowning.
“You can go. I’m not going anywhere tonight, it’s fine,” he said, clutching the phone a little too tight. He didn’t want to sound like a pathetic loser in front of Derek. That would be humiliating.
Derek leaned against the desk instead, taking quick stock of what he hadn’t packed for college yet. “Do you have another controller?”
“You wanna stay to play?” asked Stiles, incredulous.
Derek shrugged, his perpetual frown was softer now, almost entertained. “Maybe I just want to see if you can beat my werewolf reflexes.”
“Scott is shit at it. ‘Wolf powers don’t work here.”
Derek shrugged again, arching an eyebrow, as if to say prove it.
“Oh, it’s on.” Derek reached behind him and gave him a bottle of Mountain Dew. Stiles froze, at loss of words for the first time in a long time. Did Derek bring him Mountain Dew? How did he know he’d be here in the first place? And how did he know to get him the blue raspberry flavor?
“You always drink that when you’re at the loft,” he explained, as if it was obvious.
“This is the most words you’ve used in a conversation with me,” said Stiles.
That made the man immediately close up, his expression serious, no longer light and teasing. Stiles found that he missed it. Derek stood straight and climbed out of the window. Before he jumped, Derek said, “tell your father that anytime.”
Then he was gone.
Stiles stared at the window for a long time, something burning in his sternum as Derek left. It stopped eventually, but it left him feeling empty inside.
What the hell was that?
—
Stiles was having the most relaxing spring break back home: no supernatural shenanigans had kept them up at night. Stiles had spent time with Scott, Kira, even Lydia. He thought he was as over it as he was ever going to be, meaning, it didn’t hurt to see her and talk to her. They were friends before, they can do it again.
Derek was markedly absent from these outings for reasons Scott didn’t mention. When Stiles asked the girls, they shared a look and then said they didn’t know. He wasn’t picking up Stiles’ calls either, but he replied to his texts. Derek said he was busy, that he’d try to go the next day, but come next day he said something came up.
So Stiles decided to go to Derek’s loft and find out what was going on.
He was so focused on his way to Derek’s that he didn’t see the semi that ran the red light until it was too late.
Idly, he thought, at least it’s not the driver’s side.
Then the airbag opened. His head hit the headrest at an angle that sent pain all over his skull.
He came to when the door of his jeep was being ripped out of its hinges.
“Stiles?”
Derek?
Right, he was close to his place, he probably heard the car crash. Why was he here though?
“What are you doing here?” his voice came out hoarse and raspy.
“Getting you out before rescue gets here,” he rolled his eyes at him.
“I hit my head pretty bad,” he managed to say. He heard the sirens in the background getting closer and closer.
“Okay. Don’t move. I’ll get someone.”
Stiles couldn’t really respond because Derek was gone in a second, probably calling someone. He felt sleep closing in on him, but he remembered enough from Grey’s Anatomy to know that he needed to stay awake.
He started counting. He barely made it to sixty and there were two paramedics checking him out, asking him questions about his name, the day and year and the president. Stiles could remember those things. He just didn’t remember seeing the truck. “What happened to the other driver?”
“They’re seeing him now, Stiles,” said one of the paramedics.
“Cool, ‘cause we need to exchange contact info,” he said.
The paramedic laughed.
They wheeled him into an ambulance, Stiles going on and on about how this really put a hamper in his spring break plans when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Derek standing with a serious expression.
“Derek!” called Stiles.
As if he had been waiting for permission, Derek sprinted to the side of the gurney.
“Can my boyfriend ride with me?” asked Stiles, making sure to add enough innocence to it to make it believable.
“Sure, but he has to stay out of the way,” said the paramedic next to him.
Once they were on their way to the hospital, Stiles spoke up.
“Why were you avoiding me?”
The paramedics shared a look.
“Stiles,” Derek warned.
“Just tell me what’s going on, I’m not gonna be mad.” Stiles considered saying sweetie, but that would’ve been a bit too much.
“Later,” snarled Derek.
One of the paramedics gave him a dirty look.
“What if there’s not a later, Derek?” he heard how it sounded to the paramedics and he would play it up all the way to the hospital. They must be getting close. “What if I had died back there? What if I don’t—”
“Please, don’t go there,” said Derek, and he sounded… hurt? Did Stiles hear correctly?
The ambulance came to a stop and the paramedics wheeled him out. He heard Derek mutter later, then he was in the ER.
Hours later, after the tests came back clear, he was still told he’d be in observation overnight, but at least they’d let someone visit him.
His dad came in first, who hugged the breath out of him, but he couldn’t stay long, since he was in the middle of an extremely busy shift.
Then, Scott came in and tried to take the pain away, but Stiles insisted he didn’t need it with the pills he’d been given. Stiles would’ve asked him to stay, but right now there was only one person he wanted to see and he was probably gone.
“Can I use your phone to call Derek?” Stiles said, realizing too late that he interrupted Scott mid-sentence.
“You wanna talk to Derek?”
“Obviously.”
“I’ll go get him, then,” he said.
Derek came in with his hand in his pockets, shoulders hunched, only standing taller as he walked to the side of Stiles’ bed.
Stiles’ heart immediately beat faster. Something warm nestled inside his ribcage. It was familiar and strange at the same time, but it felt right. There was something in the posturing that was attractive and Stiles bit his lip to stop himself from spitting a terrible pick up line.
“So,” started Stiles. Derek made no move to say anything, he just stared at him. “I’ll live, in case you were wondering.”
“Good.”
“Good? Is that all?” Derek’s face remained impassive. “Then how about you tell me why you were at the car crash?”
“I felt you, it’s a—”
“A pack thing,” finished Stiles. He knew Scott probably had a general awareness of all of his betas, but he didn’t think it was something all wolves could do. Had Derek taught that to the pack?
“It usually happens when—” Derek paused, his hand hovering over Stiles’. Stiles’ heart was hammering a beat against his ribcage that felt as loud as the speakers in a club. Derek’s hand was right there and maybe Derek wanted him to hold it, but Stiles couldn’t, because suddenly he knew.
He had a crush on Derek.
A real, live crush on that beautiful face, those beautiful hazel eyes, that beautiful mouth that changed everything when he smiled.
If Stiles took his hand and Derek pulled away, he would be destroyed before he even got a chance to daydream about him.
Derek didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t new.
“Do you think humans in a pack can feel the others?” Stiles asked.
“With training, yeah.”
“I’m gonna learn how to do it,” he closed his eyes.
“Stiles?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you mind if I keep watch?”
“Edward Cullen behavior,” he mumbled, very sleepy now.
He fell asleep after that. He faintly heard when a nurse came to kick Derek out. Derek took one of his hands and kissed his knuckles.
Stiles is one hundred percent sure he did not dream that.
—
Things between Derek and Stiles had always been, let’s say, complicated.
What began as a not-quite-rivalry quickly developed into allies who helped each other survive, but they were not friends exactly. Especially with Stiles’ crush always looming in his periphery.
After the day at the hospital, Derek had started to hang out occasionally in the pack meetings, but he still maintained a distance from Stiles.
Which was why Stiles was surprised to see Derek at his door in his small shared apartment near campus, looking like he just fought an alpha and barely survived.
“What are you doing here?” He opened the door to let the man in, throwing a glance around to see if he was followed or if any of his neighbors noticed the bloody 6 ft tall man on his doorstep. As Stiles said it, something inside him settled, an ache he hadn’t noticed until it was absent and he could finally breathe properly again. He took a deep breath and turned to Derek.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Derek said. He stood by the door, looking unsure about what the next step was.
“Sit down, I’ll go get a washcloth. And try not to bleed on the couch, Jesse is a bit of a clean freak.”
Stiles quickly went into the bathroom to grab supplies, taking a short detour to his room to get him a clean t-shirt as well.
Derek was waiting for him in the living room, shirtless, sitting on the very edge of the seat, as if Stiles’ words actually got through to him. That was new. When he was in front of Derek again, he saw the full extent of the damage: three deep gashes that ran from his left shoulder all the way to his abdomen, smaller claw marks in his right shoulder and a bite that was probably not as bad as it looked.
Instead of passing him the wet cloth, Stiles cleaned the area around his right shoulder, taking care not to accidentally hurt the werewolf more than he already was. Once he was done cleaning that wound, he put some gauze and tape over it, knowing that he needed to be quick before his roommate came back.
Stiles was about to reach out to clean Derek’s other wound when the man grabbed his hand, stopping him.
“Are you not going to ask what happened?”
“Oh, I’m dying to know. After you stop bleeding in my living room, that is,” answered Stiles.
Derek let him clean his other wounds in silence, only wincing and closing his eyes when Stiles pulled some of the wraps a little too tight. Once Stiles was done, he handed Derek an old lacrosse jersey of his that fit him loosely enough. Then, without any prompting from Derek, he went to put the kettle on to make them tea.
“You’re staying for tea at least, right?” Derek was about to say something, but Stiles cut him off before he could say it. “Just think of the many times I’ve been there to save your werewolf ass. Tea is the least you could do.”
Derek just looked at him for a moment before saying. “I’m not much of a tea drinker.”
“Coffee then? I’d offer you something stronger, but my precious alcohol is wasted on you.”
“Fine.”
They drank their coffee mostly in silence, as Stiles waited Derek out. He used to be shit at waiting —he still was most of the time— but he could wait Derek out a small eternity if needed.
“There was this Alpha,” he started.
“I gathered that much.”
“He said, in no uncertain terms, he was there to take over Beacon Hills.”
“And you had a fight over it, I get that part,” said Stiles, impatient. “Why did you come here though? Wasn’t Deaton around to patch you up?”
“I haven’t seen him since the Alpha showed up. I just drove. You were closer than Scott is in LA.”
“Okay, now we’re making some progress. Let me text Scott real quick to tell him he’s needed in Beacon Hills stat.”
“Wait,” said Derek, grabbing his hand to stop him, claws out. “I killed him. I killed the Alpha.”
Silence fell in the room. Stiles didn’t make a move. All he said was, “Okay.”
“I don’t know how to do this again, Stiles. My whole pack is either dead or gone to someone else’s.”
“Weren’t you part of Scott’s pack? What happens if there are two Alphas in a pack?”
“You can’t have two Alphas in a pack, Stiles. Not really.”
“Then how come you’re not omega, then?” Derek lowered his head, trying to hide his face. “What? Am I missing something?”
“When I killed him, I felt a pull. I drove where it took me.”
Stiles was not completely following it.
“To you, Stiles. It led me to you.”
“I can see that,” he said, exasperated.
“The pack bond led me to you, Stiles, what are you not getting?”
Oh.
So that meant Stiles was part of Derek’s pack?
“I’m part of your pack? I’m not a wolf! I can’t be part of any pack, not really.”
Stiles was pacing and panicking, because what did it entail? Was he supposed to go out during the full moon to run with Derek? He never had to do it with Scott, but Scott has wolves to run with him.
“So you thought running around with Scott was just a game?” Derek sounded hurt. Stiles hated the feeling immediately.
“What does that make me, Derek? Half-werewolf? Quarterwolf? Instantly bumped up to Emissary without any training whatsoever?”
“You will learn,” said Derek, confidently.
Stiles sat back down on the couch, then put his head on his hands, “oh my god, how am I gonna tell Scott?”
Derek laughed, Stiles looked up at him, but he only got a brief glimpse of his beautiful smile before he frowned. Stiles would give anything to see that smile again. “What?”
“Nothing,” he lied.
“Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”
“It’s more fun to keep you guessing,” said Stiles.
He noticed just how close Derek and him were sitting, barely a feet apart, their bodies leaning into each other like two parentheses. Stiles wanted to be closer still.
The door to the apartment opened loudly.
“Stiles! I thought you had class until 6?” Jesse asked, throwing his backpack on the armchair.
Derek frowned at him, but before he could speak, Stiles said, “my boyfriend came all the way down from Beacon Hills. I could miss one Psych class.”
Taking his cue, Derek waved at Jesse and said, “maybe we should—”
“Yeah, babe, let’s go to my room.”
Derek owed him this: to keep his flimsy cover of a normal life at college.
Stiles called Scott and told him they needed to talk in person as soon as possible. Scott didn’t ask why, maybe he’d felt something on his end.
When he arrived, hours later, Stiles and Derek went to meet him outside, where Scott froze the minute they exited the building. His eyes flashed red as he took them in; he started walking towards them.
They faced each other for a whole minute before Scott spoke, “what happened?”
Derek retold his side of things: the fight, the feeling pulling him South, the foggy drive, the feeling he got when Stiles opened the door. Stiles listened to him intently, trying to pierce together their new bond. He couldn’t feel anything different now, but he recalled the feeling that overwhelmed him when Derek arrived and he wondered if there was more than just an ordinary pack bond.
A man could dream.
Eventually, the story runs to the present and Scott says, “well, you were a good Emissary-in-training.”
“You won’t get rid of me though,” he said, only mildly joking.
“Nah, you won’t get rid of us. So sorry Derek, you’re just gonna have to deal with everyone.”
That night, Scott drives back to LA because he’s stupid and reckless and apparently he didn’t want to impose, whatever that meant.
Derek, on the other hand, didn’t need much convincing to stay at Stiles’. Since they had already told Jesse he was his boyfriend, Derek should sleep in his room, right? God, why did he have to always use that excuse?
“I can sleep on the floor,” suggested Derek.
“You’re in no condition to sleep on the floor. And unlike you, I don’t bite.”
Derek smiled. “You could, if you wanted to.”
“I’m okay like this. Thanks for the offer though.”
When Derek laid down next to him, Stiles’ mind short-circuited. He was in bed with the man he liked and he couldn’t do anything because, because—
Stiles forgot what the original reasoning was, but he couldn’t bear the idea of losing Derek’s company and if that meant that his crush had to go unmentioned, then so be it.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Derek.
“Pack logistics,” he replied.
“What does that even mean?”
“How much of Beacon Hills is your territory? How much of it is Scott’s? What happens to our territory now in terms of defense? Should we recruit?”
Stiles kept asking questions and Derek answered them until they were both yawning with exhaustion.
“Sleep now, Stiles,” said Derek, nudging Stiles’ shoulder with his head.
“But—”
“Please, Stiles, tomorrow,” he begs.
Stiles stays awake for a long time feeling Derek’s breathing against his shoulder, more distracting than any videogame.
—
Stiles woke up in a cold sweat.
Everything was alright in dreamland and suddenly, he was pulled from Morpheus’ arms and thrown into a nightmare scene.
Except, there was nothing going on in his room, the only sound came from his laptop fan and the rustling of the pages of a book he had been reading before bed.
When he realized nothing was amiss there it dawned on him: the pack bond.
He called Derek but no one answered.
Stiles quickly put on a jacket and shoes, grabbed his baseball bat, and made it to his car. He knew it’d been too good to hope he could go his whole summer vacation without some bullshit going on. When he was in the car, he shot Scott a quick text and then drove following the pull in his sternum that said go go go.
Stiles was headed to a clearing where Derek was fighting two werewolves. By the look of it, they were alone. Stiles floored it the moment he saw an opening, he knew Derek would know where to move.
The guy landed a few feet away, where he stood up and got ready to attack the car.
Unfortunately for him, Derek was onto him in a second, looking like he was ready to rip the man to pieces.
“Touch my mate, and I will kill you,” Derek deadpanned.
Mate?
Did Derek say—?
When did they—?
All the pieces fell into place at once.
Of course.
Derek’s pack was just Stiles because Derek felt something for him.
Immediately, Stiles ran in his mind all their interactions over the past few months and felt stupid for not noticing sooner. Of course they were mates. They already behaved like a couple as far as his friends were concerned. Liam had even teased him about it once.
It made so much sense and it explained so much of Derek’s behavior.
The man looked genuinely terrified of Derek and the woman —who had come with him and was now recovering from an injury on the floor— said, “please. We’ll leave. We didn’t know there were wolves here. Please.”
“We swear,” said the man.
Derek took the man in his hold and gently put his feet back on the ground, then mimicked cleaning up his shoulders of dust and said, “up you go. Far away from here.”
Once they were gone, Derek turned to him. “That was stupid and reckless—”
Stiles, still inside the car, grabbed Derek’s face through the window and brought him close enough to kiss him, but didn’t just yet.
“What you said, about being mates—”
“It’s true.”
“Is it a predestined thing or is it more of a ‘we kept choosing each other now we’re here’ kind of deal?” asked Stiles.
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not,” then, leaning in, he said, “but I do want to kiss you stupid now.”
Their lips crashed against each other: unstoppable force, meet immovable object. Whatever physics had to say about it couldn’t compare to the force of their kiss then. It was hungry and longing and distinctly not enough for either of them judging by the way Derek’s teeth scraped Stiles’ bottom lip.
When they separated, Derek asked, “why did you come here?”
“I felt something.”
“What did you feel?”
“A calling. Did you howl?”
“I did,” he replied, one of his hands holding Stiles’ face close.
“That’s how it works then,” said Stiles. Then he raised an eyebrow at Derek. “Do you wanna explore what other things we can feel through the bond?”
“You’re ridiculous,” but he smiled, dipping his chin low to hide it. Stiles thought it was cute as hell.
There’s a lot to be said and a lot to figure out about their bond, but Stiles couldn’t be more excited to discover it with Derek, in their own little pack of two. Who knew, maybe one day, things would be a lot less complicated.