#sterekdivergent

"Yes, Moony, he's a wolf too." Stiles says, voice laced with amusement.

The child squirms out of Stiles' arms, despite his best efforts to keep her there, and runs towards Derek. He's expecting a collision with his legs, braces for it knowing the unrestrained strength werecubs can possess, but instead the girl jumps and flings herself around his body, limbs latching on tight. She feels almost too warm where her skin rests against his, her scent familiar and brand new at the same time.

Her cheek against his own is soft and surprising, her choice to scent mark someone so new to her throwing him completely. He locks eyes with Stiles, silently asking what's going on, if he's allowed this. All he gets back is an easy smile and a slight nod so he stays quiet. He feels himself marking her in return before he’s even aware that he’s doing it. His scent is pressing into her skin, mixing with her own unique blend, the underlying scent of pack, and an overwhelming flush of Stiles. Derek knows immediately Stiles is her father, that they’re tired by more than just pack, but Derek’s heart falters slightly when he feels that connection to himself as well.

He wants to search for answers. Derek wants to look up, he wants to demand answers from the pack he left behind all those years ago, he wants to know who the hell this little girl is and why she feels like she belongs to him. All that and Derek still can’t force himself to pull away from her. Instead he keeps marking her with his scent, his cheeks rubbing up against her own, her tiny little werecub claws grounding where they dig in slightly at the back of his neck.

The choice is taken from him when the girl pulls away, leaning back into the secure hold of his arms to look Derek square in the face.

“You’re Derek.”

He doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know a single thing about her except that he feels like pack and she feels like him and she smells so comfortingly like Stiles it’s making him realise how much he’s missed just being home. He already doesn’t want to let her go, she already feels like she means too much and she’s a solid, devastating reminder of the family he lost all those years ago.

He settles on simple, on a kind smile and a reassuring touch, something he’d had to relearn after so many years of being sullen and miserable.

“That I am.”

“Daddy’s told me about you. Aunty Cora has too.”

“And what exactly have they told you about me?”

“That you’d be back someday. That you’d come home to love us all and be pack again.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say. His breath catches in his throat and his tongue feels too big for his mouth. His heart is pounding and he knows nearly everyone in the room can hear it, is waiting for a confirmation or a denial, to know whether the panic will result in Derek running away once again.

Before he can even think of a response, Stiles steps forward, breaking the stillness and silence of the moment, “Okay Moonshine, let’s just let Derek breathe for a little while.”

It doesn’t help in the slightest. Now Derek’s just all too aware of how close Stiles has gotten, of how much he’s missed him, and how many questions he just doesn’t have answers to.

“Stiles.” Derek chokes out the word, unsure of what exactly he plans on saying. It doesn’t matter though, he can’t think beyond the fact that he’s home and Stiles is here, accepting and not hating him, despite the undercurrent of tension that’s still floating through the room.

Stiles takes the girl out of his arms without effort, his eyes slipping shut as he hugs her close for a few moments. Derek can smell the mix of Derek&Stiles becoming all that more prominent over the child, almost drowning out the scent of pack and her own individuality. It doesn’t quite mask it though and Derek’s hit again with an overpowering scent of sweet and gentle.

Stiles places her on the ground at his feet and crouches down beside her, kissing her quickly on the very tip of her nose, eliciting the cutest laughter Derek has ever heard, “How about you go for a run with Aunty Cora and Uncle Isaac? I’m sure you could probably talk Uncle Scott into it as well if you try really hard.”

A grin breaks out across the little girl’s face and suddenly she’s off, racing across to the other side of the loft, a scream of “Uncle Scott!” following her as she runs at Scott’s legs. Scott catches her easily, swinging her around in his arms before dropping her back on the ground.

“Come on Moony, I’ll race you.”

+++++

It’s not long before the loft has cleared out, all but Derek and Stiles gone for a run, no doubt in the preserve where they can roam wild and be free. What it leaves behind though is an atmosphere of tension and awkwardness and Derek has no idea where to even start.

“I guess we should probably sit down?” Stiles gestures towards the sofa, the same sofa Derek bought when he first moved in, and moves to sit down. Derek follows for lack of anything better to do, but the moment he sits it’s like a lock breaks and the words start flowing, regardless of whether he planned them or not.

“She’s mine, isn’t she? I mean, I can smell it. And I can smell you. On her. She’s ours, right?” 

Stiles stares at him like he’s never seen him before, not this open, not this unsure, not around Stiles. Stiles has always been the person Derek’s been easiest around, the most he’s ever been able to act like himself, but it’s still new, it’s still different to how it was back then, and the whole experience is incredibly jarring.

“Yeah.” Stiles licks his lips and seems to struggle for a better explanation. They both know there is none though, it all seems pretty simple, “Yeah, she’s ours.”

“You never told me.” It’s not an accusation, more of a question, and Derek hopes Stiles knows he doesn’t blame him for any of this.

“You needed to get away. I didn’t want you to come back before you were ready.”

They’d talked about Derek leaving, back when he was first deciding to go. He knew he needed to, that he needed to get to know himself first, to learn how to live with himself without fear and guilt overriding all other emotions most of the time. The only time he ever allowed himself to just be was with Stiles, he let himself relax around him, but he was still always somewhat on edge. He was always too aware of Stiles’ humanity, of possibly hurting him, turning him, of killing him if he let himself lose control, if a situation turned just the wrong way at the wrong moment. It was terrifying, to care about another person so deeply after so long feeling completely alone.

It was hard to leave Stiles, to leave his pack and have no one but himself after finally beginning to let others in again, but they both knew it was what he needed to do. It felt right though, to finally be home again.

“She was telling you the truth, though, you know that. We always told her you’d be back one day. When you were better.”

“I’m sorry I did this to you, I’m sorry I left you with this, that I wasn’t around to help.”

“Don’t.” Stiles breathes out, quiet and bewildered, “Just don’t. I could have told you at any time. I just wanted you to get better.”

Suddenly Derek’s hit with how easy this is, how easy it always was, and he hates himself a little for taking so long to get his head on straight.

His daughter. He has a daughter.

The memory of their last time together hits him suddenly, the discussions they had, the feelings, the sensations wracking his body like nothing ever had before. He’d explained himself to Stiles, why he was leaving, why he couldn’t stay stuck in Beacon Hills, how he couldn’t continue on the way he was. Stiles understood, smiled and told Derek it was okay without a hint of a murmur in his heartbeat, holding him tight and just asking him to promise to return one day. Of course Derek had agreed, the thought of leaving Stiles at all hurt his heart, but Derek knew it had to be done – he had to find Cora, he had to find himself… He had to learn to be better within himself so he could be better for the pack.

It had been an emotional goodbye and the sex had been like nothing Derek had ever felt before. It was slow and patient, fierce love burning through them both as their eyes locked together and hands clasped tight in one another’s. Derek remembers Stiles whispered words soothing his soul like nothing else ever had, ‘My alpha’ ringing through his ears and swirling around his brain, imprinting in a way that would mean he could never forget.

Derek made a promise that night to return, one that took him six years to deliver on, but he never had any doubt he wouldn’t keep true to his words.

And as it turns out, he’d also made something else that night.

“What’s her name?”

“Ruby.”

“Ruby.” Derek whispers, echoing the word as it becomes familiar on his tongue, his mind still stuck somewhere between awed and shocked.

Stiles smiles at him gently, hands twitching like they want to take hold of Derek’s and suddenly Derek’s never wanted anything more. He keeps himself still, though, unsure if he’s allowed this again, of how much of him Stiles really wants back.

“Yeah, but she prefers Moony over anything else.” At Derek’s confused frown, Stiles continues, “Like from Harry Potter.”

Derek snorts a quiet laugh, “Of course.”

They fall into silence, a million questions dancing around both of their brains, neither unsure of how to start, of what to ask for first. They stay seated together on the sofa, content to be close once again, Derek’s wolf almost preening at Stiles’ proximity and the fact that he’s absorbing the other boy’s scent purely by being so close to him. 

“I can’t believe we ended up here.”

Derek remembers their first time just as well as their last, how they became Derek&Stiles, becoming intertwined and understood in a way that neither had ever felt before. 

The pack bonding time was nothing new, they’d been working at improving their relationships for months, but it was Jackson who originally suggested they should move it out of the loft. A camping trip into the woods, possibly a slightly insane suggestion for regular people, but a pack of werewolves could surely hold their own, and despite it being Jackson’s suggestion, off they went into the woods for a weekend – willingly cut off from the rest of the world.

Derek remembers Stiles had been sick, he’d been fighting off the flu for a few days by that point, and Lydia had suggested they change their plans, wait a week or so for Stiles to get better. Stiles had adamantly refused, of course, not allowing their plans to be ruined by him, by some stupid illness that the majority of them would never suffer from. And so off they went, deep into the woods, trekking through the forest from memory until they found a clearing Scott deemed appropriate for their two-night stay.

Stiles had seemed okay at the beginning, covered in layers upon layers of clothing and curled up in a blanket as he sat by the fire, staying as warm as humanly possible. Lydia had made him a hot chocolate, Scott had made sure he’d eaten enough food, and the group sat around together, trading stories and making each other laugh, Derek watching on, proud of his pack and almost feeling at home.

It wasn’t long until Stiles was falling asleep where he sat, his head bobbing up and down as he struggled to stay awake, his laughter delayed as his brain fought to keep up with the conversation. Derek had been keeping a close eye on him, worried for his most vulnerable pack member, almost tempted to say something when suddenly Lydia was up and demanding Stiles go to bed, all but dragging him into his designated tent.

Isaac was supposed to share with Stiles – Allison and Scott and Lydia and Jackson paired off together while Derek was given a tent to himself – and Derek will never forget the look of pure fear that laced Isaac’s face when he rushed into Derek’s tent a few hours later. Derek hadn’t been able to sleep, he’d been too worried about Stiles and on too high alert in case anything came meandering through the woods and happened to come across them. He hadn’t been expecting Isaac to be the one who bombarded him.

“Derek. Derek, it’s Stiles,” Isaac panted, panicked and desperate and looking too much like the kid he’d been when Derek had first found him, “He won’t- He can’t warm up. He just keeps shivering and shaking and he’s just getting worse.”

Derek didn’t even speak; he was up and out of his tent before Isaac had even finished speaking. The sight that met him shouldn’t have been shocking, he knew Stiles wasn’t well, but Derek wasn’t prepared for the sweat soaked skin, the cracking trembles of Stiles’ teeth as his jaw chattered, the wheezing that shook Stiles’ too-thin frame every time he tried to take a breath.

“Go.” Derek spared a second to glance at Isaac, nodding back out towards the rest of the camp, “I’ll stay with him. Get some sleep.”

Isaac hesitated for a few moments before retreating from the tent, leaving Derek alone with a suffering Stiles.

“Hey Sourwolf.” Stiles’ voice was weak and shaking but a smile graced his lips despite the pain and discomfort.

Derek didn’t say anything in return, instead he slipped into the sleeping bag beside Stiles, pulling the younger man closer, trying to warm him with his own super-human body heat. Derek rested a hand against the prickling cold of Stiles’ chest and pulled the pain from his body, the lines of black a shocking contrast to the pale of Stiles’ skin.

“You need to sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Can’t… Can’t pull too much.” Stiles’ teeth chattered as he spoke around another rasping breath.

“You let me worry about that.”

Eventually Stiles’ body had warmed and the wracking shivers subsided. Stiles had rolled over and curled in close to Derek’s chest, legs wrapping around Derek’s as Stiles held him as close as he was able. Derek had just let him, he had no qualms about Stiles using him as he needed, of seeking comfort and warmth in his proximity, so he laid awake beside him, keeping watch over him, letting Stiles’ scent and steady heartbeat keep him calm.

The next morning when Derek awoke Stiles was still wrapped around him, but instead of sleeping peacefully, the younger man was grinning widely, face so close it was threatening to destroy Derek’s carefully constructed self-control.

“Hey.” Stiles whispered, still warm and his breathing still even, seemingly a hundred times better than he’d been the night before.

“Morning.” Derek wasn’t sure why they were whispering but he was hesitant to break the spell.

Stiles snuggled even closer as he spoke again, “Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to.”

“You were in pain. I couldn’t just leave you.”

“Well I feel better now.”

I don’t need you now.

Derek knows that’s not what Stiles said but it’s what he heard regardless, and so he started to untangle himself from Stiles’ limbs so he could slip away easily.

“Hey, where are you going?” Stiles grabbed at him, pulling Derek close enough, not allowing any warmth to escape from where they were curled together under the sleeping bag.

Derek felt too hot, his skin burning in the best way where he rest against Stiles, his heart beat increasing ever so slightly every few minutes. He knew being in such close proximity to Stiles was dangerous, that he’d only be able to control himself for so long, especially given the way Stiles kept inching closer and closer.

“Stay with me.”

“You need to eat.” It wasn’t what Derek had meant to say, in all honesty the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind despite its truth, he’d just needed to get away from Stiles, away from the tempting proximity that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to resist for much longer.

“Not just yet.” Stiles whispered against Derek’s chest, so close Derek could feel the ghost of Stiles’ lips as he spoke. It was intoxicating, being so close to the younger man, and Derek was sure it was the remnants Stiles’ illness that had him acting like this. Surely he wouldn’t be so close if he was in his right mind.

They laid silent for a while, each content wrapped around the other, breathing in the scent and comfort of having someone so close. Derek could hear the muted sounds of the others rising around them, one-by-one making their way out of bed and out into the sunlight. He could hear Isaac explaining to someone – Scott and Lydia he thought – what had happened the night before, how much worse Stiles had gotten and how Derek was looking after him. Derek knew they should join them, they should get out of bed so the pack could see for themselves that Stiles truly was okay, but he was reluctant to move until Stiles suggested as such.

Just as the thought had occurred to him, he had felt the light press of soft lips against his skin. Derek froze, not entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it, when Stiles pressed his lips against him again, a little firmer so there was no doubt left in Derek’s mind at all. Stiles was kissing his chest.

“Stiles.”

“Shh. Just let me.”

“You haven’t been well. Are you sure-?”

“I’ve wanted this for a lot longer than I’ve been sick, Sourwolf.”

The thought wracked Derek’s mind, there was no way Stiles was saying what Derek thought he was saying, surely he wasn’t admitting to wanting this, not in the same way Derek had wanted it for years. Was he?

The kisses had moved slowly, ever so painfully, temptingly slow, up his chest until soft lips were pressing against the column of his throat, making their way up and across his cheek until Stiles’ mouth was hovering mere inches from Derek’s. When their lips finally met it was soft and slow, almost like they were both afraid of making the wrong move, their kiss delicate and warm and almost perfect.

... to be continued.

“What are you doing here? This is private property.”

Stiles startles at the sudden voice, snapping his attention off the ground to look at the stranger who seemed to appear from nowhere. He recognizes him immediately even though he was much younger when he left Beacon Hills: Derek Hale, one of the three family members that survived the fire that killed everyone else.

Before he can apologize for trespassing or explain that they just need to find Scott’s inhaler and then they’ll leave, feminine laughter echoes through the forest. Laura Hale appears from between two trees and moves to stand at her brother’s side, a wide smile pulling her lips up.

“Don’t be so sour, little brother,” she says though her eyes don’t stray from where they’re locked on Scott. Something in her gaze makes Stiles uncomfortable; it’s almost like she sees Scott as prey. He steps closer to his best friend, ready to step in the way if something happens. But Laura doesn’t step any closer. Instead she nudges her hip against her brother’s and says, “Besides, if you used your senses you would know that they have more business here than it appears.”

Stiles watches in fascination as Derek’s nostrils flair, and then the older man makes a noise like a growl. “It got somebody,” he snarls.

Laura shrugs. “We knew it was a possibility when we smelled the blood.” Her smile becomes more friendly. “Well, hello there boys. My name is Laura and this is my brother Derek. We were thinking about getting some dinner. Would you care to join us?”

Scott frowns. He seems unaffected by how weird the situation is, but the whole thing feels wrong to Stiles. Dangerous almost. The dead body in the woods, the sudden appearance of the Hales in the exact location that said body, and their strange behavior. Stiles doesn’t like it at all. But Scott doesn’t seem to notice. “Um, Stiles and I were just looking for my inhaler. I, uh, dropped it last night when-.”

Derek’s hand twitches and then the inhaler smacks into Scott’s chest. He picks it up, his eyebrows furrowing. “Thanks?”

Stiles takes a step back, pulling Scott with him. “Thanks for finding it. We should really be heading back though. My dad, you know the sheriff, is expecting us back in time for dinner and we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Laura laughs. “You know, Stiles, you weren’t off earlier when you said that Scott has an affliction. But lycanthropy is more than a monthly problem.” When her eyes turn red, Stiles freezes. He was joking before; werewolves aren’t real. But when her face continues to shift, fangs appearing in her mouth and claws replacing her fingernails, he can’t really explain it away.

Her face returns to normal, her smile still in place. “Now, what would you say about lunch?

----------

It takes Stiles only a few hours to get over the shock that werewolves are real. It takes Scott a lot longer. Laura is understanding though. After Scott storms out on them, she just shrugs at Stiles, says, “He’ll come around,” and then answers whatever questions the human has. Derek sits silently by her side the whole time, not really contributing to the conversation. Stiles’ attention keeps catching on him though, because he looks like someone with a lot of attitude but instead his shoulders droop and his eyes stay down.

The longer that he spends with the siblings, the more he learns about werewolves yes, but he also learns more about Derek. And he wants to learn more. He starts picking at him and asking him questions, just to make sure he feels included too. Every time Stiles teases him, Laura gives him a knowing look. But he can’t help it; Derek always snarks back and his eyes light up and-. Well, let’s just say that Stiles has stopped paying so much attention to Lydia.

It doesn’t help that Laura pairs them up whenever she gets the chance.

When Derek gets shot, Stiles’ whole world narrows. He drives him around town, buying Laura and Scott time to find the right strand of wolfsbane to save him. He’s ready to cut off the werewolf’s arm if it will save his life, but then Laura shows up with a bullet that Scott stole from Allison’s aunt, and Derek is saved. Stiles has nightmares about him withering on the ground for a week following the incident.

When Derek gets taken, Stiles is ready to storm the Argent house to get him back, especially when Laura (pale and shaken) tells him the story of a young boy ensnared by a witch with bad intentions who lost almost everything and feels guilty every day for surviving the fire. After they finally get him back, both Laura and Stiles curl around Derek in bed (despite his halfhearted protests), and Stiles thinks that he understands what being pack means.

And after crazy uncle Peter (who killed an alpha to get the spark) is killed and Kate is gone and everyone is sitting around the Hale house remains, not sure where to go from here, Stiles goes to Derek and holds his hand, ignoring the way that the werewolf’s hands shake. Laura joins them after making a truce with Chris, dragging Scott along with her into the hug. They huddle together and Laura promises that they’re going to make Beacon Hills a home again.

As the pack grows (“Really Laura, did you have to pick Jackson?”) and comes together, Derek opens up to Stiles more. The pair start spending more time together at the new loft, putting together a beastiary and going through the books that were left in the Hale vault. When Derek goes on patrols, Stiles goes with him and they always stop for milkshakes before parting.

Really Stiles shouldn’t be surprised when Laura climbs though his bedroom window one night with a closed off expression, but he is.

“What’s wrong,” he asks her as soon as her feet hit the carpet. She watches him without answering, her eyes narrowed and calculating. “Laura?”

“You’re pack, Stiles. You’ve been pack since that day in the woods. But Derek is the only family that I have left. And even though I’m his alpha, I put being his sister first.”

He blinks at her. “I-. Okay?”

She nods. “So you understand that I have to threaten you, right? Because if you hurt him, pack or not, even Scott will have a hard time sniffing out your body.”

Stiles’ mouth falls open. He watches her for a long moment, trying to determine if she’s being serious or not. Finally, he says, “Is this your way of telling me that you approve of me?”

Her expression melts into a warm smile. “Oh sweetie, I’ve approved of you this whole time. But I also think that, as smart as you are, you can be dumb as bricks. Threatening you seemed like the best way to get you to make a move.”

“Hey! It’s not like Derek’s dropped any hints about wanting something to happen between us! I’m just taking this at his pace!”

Laura pats his back. “Like I said, dumb as bricks. Didn’t I tell you last week that you should look up werewolf courting habits?” He flushes, remembering what exactly he found when he typed that into the search bar. Laura wrinkles her nose. “You know what, nevermind. Just go see him. Ask him out. Kiss his face, I don’t care. He’s moping around the loft because he thinks that you’re not interested, and he’ll never make a move because he doesn’t want to be like Kate. So you have to be the one to step up. But don’t hurt him. I was serious about the threat.”

He doesn’t argue more, just grabs his jacket and his keys and hits the road. The loft is conveniently empty except for Derek (Stiles will thank Laura later for getting the betas (especially Erica) out of the house).

Derek perks up when Stiles walks in. “Hey! I was just about to make dinner. Anything specific sound good? I’m not sure where everyone else went, but that’s okay. Wait, are you even staying?”

Stiles waves off the question. “Derek, Laura just dropped by my house and threatened me.”

The werewolf flinches and his cheeks heat. Stiles marvels at how far he’s come since that day in the woods, how expressive he is now. “I’m sorry. I told her not to say anything.”

“I’m glad she did. Because I was waiting for you to make a move, and she helped me realize that you were leaving everything up to me. And I’ve made my decision: go on a date with me. Right now. We can go have dinner and get ice cream and I’ll date you so hard and you can meet my dad officially and we can have family dinners with him and Laura and it will be great” he pauses. “Um, so yeah. Dinner?”

Derek looks shocked for a few seconds, and then he tips his head back with laughter. He doesn’t argue, instead he takes Stiles’ offered hand and lets the human lead him out of the loft.

“Remind me to thank my meddling sister later,” he says as they climb into the jeep.

It also smells like werewolf, exactly like the one from last night. The son of a bitch is already biting teenagers. Children. This kid can't stay out here much longer, it's a miracle he hasn't been attacked as it is.

“He's been here all night,” the boy says, tears streaming down his face. “He's so cold, he must have been freezing.” Derek remembers Paige's skin nearly searing hot against his, how much pain she'd been in. He wishes he could say it had been quick, but...

“We have to call somebody, we need to get out of here.”

“Nononono, I can't leave Scott, I can't,” the boy starts sobbing, dragging the body closer and away from Derek, panic written all over his face. “I can't leave him again. Oh God, this is all my fault.”

“Okay. I'll call someone and we'll wait here with him,” Derek tries, and he nods, still clutching Scott tightly to him. “Hey, look at me,” Derek asks, softer. Big brown eyes look up at him for the first time, red and teary. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not.”

Derek takes his jacket off, drapes it around his shoulders, and pulls out his phone to call 911, keeping watch in case the alpha comes back. The kid barely takes notice.

When the police arrive and the sheriff throws himself out of the cruiser and towards them, Derek braces himself for the fall and the handcuffs.

What he doesn't expect is for him to run past Derek, to the boys by the tree, and fall to his knees.

“Stiles, Stiles, what happened?”

“I lied, I lied. Dad, I'm so sorry,” Stiles wails and still refuses to let go of Scott. The sheriff tries taking Scott's pulse, but from the look of his face, he knows he's not going to find one. Derek feels like vomiting or, even worse, crying. He did the exact same things, just hours ago.

“Sir?” Says a young woman stepping out of the second car and pulling Derek out of thoughts he'd rather not get caught up in. “Could I take a statement from you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he agrees, and takes a last glance at Stiles and his father's failed attempts at getting him to let go.

It takes two days. Two damn days before he feels more than hears someone at the edge of the Hale property and just knows it's the kid again.

“You really shouldn't be here,” Derek tries, but it has no force behind it, not when Stiles is slumped together on the porch right where Laura used to sit when they were younger. He sits down next to him, close but not close enough to touch, like last time.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” Stiles says and lays the leather jacket across his lap. Derek nods. “They say it was a wolf.” He shakes his head. “A fucking wolf.”

As much as Derek feels for the kid, he doesn't have time for this, doesn't have time to waste when there's a new alpha running around biting people, leaving pieces of Laura around the woods they used to play in as kids.

“I-”

“There are no wolves in California, did you know that? I don't know what it was that killed Scott, but it wasn't a wolf,” Stiles says and jumps down from the porch, makes his way to the blue Jeep parked by Laura's Camaro. He hesitates when he opens the door, looking at Derek for the first time. Opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it and climbs in, backing out like he's been driving since he was born, and is gone as quickly as he showed up.

Derek's barely back from getting food when the door swings open and a handful of hunters walk out of his house, Chris Argent in the middle.

“Two dead, Derek. Both on Hale property, one of which I heard you were part of finding.”

Two, Derek corrects him mentally, putting his keys into his pockets, balancing the pizza carton and the soda easily while carrying his bag of clothes with the same arm. They all know what he is, there’s no need to pretend he’s not strong enough.

“I'm not your problem,” he sighs and walks past them, making his way up the stairs. They all smell of fear apart from Chris. Apparently he didn't find Derek enough of a threat to bring more experienced hunters, which is a relief. That means he knows better than thinking Derek’s really the alpha.

“Where is your sister?”

Of course. Derek stops, glaring at him over his shoulder.

“If she's out killing people we-”

“Which half of her?” Derek snarls, and Chris looks genuinely shocked. One of the hunters stinks more of shame than fear, unlike the remaining two that still look like they're about to piss their pants.

“What?”

“I said which half of her? The one at the coroner's or the one left out in the woods for me to find?”

Lowering his shotgun, Chris signals to the others to stand down.

“Then what are you doing here? Waiting for the alpha to come kill you, too?” He looks around the hallway, like he's afraid it'll come down on them all.

“Maybe,” he admits, and turns around the corner to his old room, where Laura had put a new mattress and a sleeping bag on his old iron bed frame and crawls in, almost hoping the goddamn alpha will come and finish his job while Derek is sleeping. Derek finds that he really, really doesn't care either way.

He wakes up to the sound of tentative steps in the hall and before he knows it, he's jumped down the stairs to snarl the intruder in the face, pushing him up against the wall by his grandmother's old bureau.

“Oh shit!” Stiles swears as his back hits the wood and Derek's fangs are gone in an instant, hoping Stiles didn't see. Judging from his heartbeat, he saw everything. Fuck.

His heartbeat just keeps rising and his breath is coming in shorter and shorter pants and-

“Oh my God, was it you?” He looks absolutely horrified and Derek takes in the shirt and tie under his hands, the smell of salt and flower arrangements and terror and backs quick as hell.

“It wasn't me, I swear.” Derek gives him space, lets him breathe.

“Why the fuck should I believe you?” Stiles wheezes and rubs his chest where Derek grabbed him. “Scott was killed by something with teeth and claws and fur and you have all three, Jesus Christ.”

“I came back to find my sister.” Derek retorts, trying his best not to let the wolf through, despite the sorrow vibrating through his bones. He wants to intimidate, run Stiles off, be alone, but he knows he can't. “We’re both werewolves.”

“No fucking shit!” He glares, seemingly more annoyed than surprised. Huh. “Where would she have g-” Stiles stops. “Oh. That was her? Oh, fuck. Derek, I am so sorry.”

So he knows exactly who Derek is, then. It’s better the kid knows what he’s dealing with.

“There's an alpha out there, bigger and stronger than me. He killed Laura to become what he is and I can't beat him alone. I think he bit your friend to try and build a pack to get stronger, but sometimes the bite is rejected and the person dies.”

“Shit.” Stiles takes a moment to calm down, looking everywhere but Derek, then draws a deep breath and keeps speaking. “Look, if you're right, my dad is out hunting an alpha werewolf thinking it's a mountain lion. Scott's mom can't look me in the eye.” His voice catches and he wipes his cheeks, looking more angry with himself than sad. Anger is good, anger is something Derek knows how to handle.

Anger is something he knows how to shape and use to his advantage. Theirs.

“I lost my mom, I lost my best friend. My dad is all I have left.”

“I don't know what to do,” Derek admits and slumps down on the stairs. “I don't know how to fix this.”

“Is there anywhere you can hide? I mean, you...” Stiles trails off, looking around. “You're not staying here, are you?”

“Where else am I going to stay?”

“Fucking hell,” Stiles begins and flops down onto the stairs next to him.

The click is small, probably not even audible to Stiles, but Derek hears it.

“What was that?” He leans down, pushes Stiles' leg out of the way.

“No way,” Stiles breathes as Derek's claws come out, pulling away the wood and revealing a opening in the staircase. “First werewolves and now secret compartments.” He hops down a step, pulling out a wooden box from the hollow step.

He's only seen the box once or twice, but it's well imprinted in his memory. He thought the Hale bestiary was gone.

“What is it?”

Derek flips the lid open.

“...a computer.” It's a brand new MacBook, too. Not something Laura would buy, who always swore over Derek's old Mac and praised Bill Gates. It powers up without problem.

“What the hell.”

“It's locked.”

Stiles grins, and it's not a happy smile. It's grief and anger, razor sharp and focused.

“I know someone who can fix that. We're gonna get this motherfucker, you hear me? We're gonna get him and we're gonna hack him into fucking pieces if that's what it takes.”

“Derek, you’re spacing out.” Stiles nudges his side. “You okay?”

Derek expected a quip about him being alpha, but Stiles looks at him with knit brows and smells like the kind of worry and affection Derek didn’t think he’d ever get to experience again, not for him.

“I’m not sure,” he admits truthfully. “Not yet.”

“You need to build a pack, right? Find betas?”

“I guess. I can’t-” he cuts off, shaking his head. “Not right now.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Stiles nods. “For now though, you’re staying at my house.”

“Really?” Derek frowns.

“Are you kidding?" He leans back against the front of the Jeep, closer to Derek than before. "Dad knows what you’ve been through, knows you didn’t kill Laura. He’s been asking about you, you know. Looked like he’d go get you yourself when I told him you were staying at the house. Probably will if you won’t move in with us.”

“I can afford a place to stay.”

“Yeah, but both you and I know you’ll squat to keep people off your trail.” He chuckles to himself. “We have a guest room. You’ll be safer in the sheriff’s house than anywhere else in this county.”

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Good."

Derek looks out over Beacon Hills. They’re both tired, worn down from too little sleep and too much fighting for their lives. But Kate Argent is locked up indefinitely and Peter’s ashes are in a small ornate jar in the family mausoleum, and Derek has the promise of a real bed under a roof without holes in it, in the company of people who care about his well-being. Their losses aside, it could have ended far worse. Far, far worse.

“So if I’d ask for the bite, would you do it?” Stiles blindsides him with. But then on the other hand, he would have asked Stiles himself, in due time.

“Yeah,” Derek admits.

“Would that make us pack?” And oh how the hopefulness in Stiles' scent makes something warm rush through his veins. His instincts are stronger now, more insistent.

“Yeah.”

“And if I don’t ask for it?” At this, Derek turns to look at him fully. He hadn't realised how close Stiles was standing. It feels right, safe somehow, whatever's between them.

“Still pack, if you want to.”