#sw24moon

The man came back to himself a bit before he replied, "Yes, of course. I should let you rest. You said one fifty?" 

Stiles nodded and added a tired slow blink as he yawned out, "Tips are always appreciated."

The man looked down at his Versace wallet and pulled out two crisp one hundred dollar bills. "Thank you so much The Magnificent Mieczyslaw." 

Stiles inwardly cringed as the man butchered the name. "Mitch is just fine." 

The man smiled and once again wrestled Stiles' hand into something more akin to someone fighting a snake to the death rather than a hand shake. "Thank you. The Magnificent Mitch. I just needed her to tell me she was okay." The man looked over his shoulder twice and each time Stiles waved vigorously while yawning. 

Finally Stiles let out a sigh after hearing the bell to his shop ring. He reached over to grab his tea from the side table to move it on to the one in front of him. As he took a sip he grimaced at the cold temperature. The man had blathered on endlessly about his ninety-four year old grandmother. Stiles decided to put his cards back in order then go make a fresh cup. He shuffled them mindlessly when two cards fell before him. He picked them up ready to shove them in the pack with the rest when he noticed they were both major arcana. 

The Lovers card was absolutely beautiful. It was drawn in a dreamlike summer haze of a scene. A calm peaceful forest with two sapling trees grew intertwined in front of a calm lake, and in the lake a lover gently held his beloved up letting her float looking at the clouds above. His bright red shirt and her electric blue eyes pulled focus from the other softer elements, but the two running wolf shaped clouds she was staring out could still be discerned if you stared long enough. 

Stiles' eyes barely widened, but the shock still pulled the tender smile from his face as he stared into the steely red gaze of The Devil card. It had gnarled twisted horns and its mouth was open in a scream of anger as the teeth and fangs jutted this way and that.  The card seemed to have a sense of motion from the way its saliva trailed midair all the way back to where its head was thrown back maw open wide. Its throat and jaw was tensed with such a strength Stiles' rubbed his own and he couldn't tell if it was subconsciously because he winced in sympathetic pain, or if he was trying to protect his own skin. The claws on this nightmare seemed more powerful than sharp, they didn't come to a cartoonish point. They did however, remind him of when he'd heard someone say that a sharp knife will cut through skin like butter, but a dull one will tear and gouge out the flesh ripping the sinew out of place instead of snipping. Streets were ablaze behind this behemoth and charred bodies laid all around. 

Stiles jolted out of the world of the card as he felt a sinking in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He regained himself and breathed in and out to center himself before calling out, "Would you like for me to pull you some cards? See what your fate has for you?" 

There was a silent pause. 

Stiles sighed and muttered under his breath, "Other than skulking around." He increased his volume so the stranger could hear, "And not using my front door, which is quite rude you know." Stiles heard the curtain that separated the waiting area from the back rustle open. 

"We did use the front door. And I wasn't skulking." 

Stiles flung his gaze back up carelessly to where the stranger was entering and his jaw promptly dropped the retort he had prepared rolling out of both his mind and mouth. Standing in front of him was the most gorgeous man Stiles had ever seen. He was sharply dressed in a double breasted black peacoat and tan slacks, but his shoes matched his coat's shiny black buttons. His beard was very well taken care of and short enough it had to be a bitch to maintain. His hair was neatly groomed into a close fade on the sides while the top was a bit longer. Stiles got the sense it was just on that borderline where it was long enough a couple strands would delicately flop down and the man's strong looking fingers would have to comb through it to get it back into place. Stiles wanted to volunteer to help next time it happened, or at the very least feel those fingers himself. His mind flailed for something to say as the man entered his tent. "Actually you can come in my back door." 

The stranger's face scrunched up into some unpleasant emotion that Stiles couldn't figure out as he was busy processing what had come out of his mouth. "Wow I'm glad you try and hit on your clients before they reveal how broken and vulnerable they are and don't just wait until after you take their money." 

"Oh. God. That was out loud. I said that out loud with my mouth hole." Stiles was mortified. 

Stiles was just about to cover his face in shame when a man he did recognize came in right behind the stranger. "Now boys, please at least let me introduce you both before you jump each other. Stiles, this is my nephew Derek. Derek, this charmer is Stiles." 

Peter was often in need of his services and at least a third of the reason he could even afford to get the shop. He didn't need to be offending one of his clients with the deepest pockets. Peter took his family's money and used it to open a casino and happened to hit it big. He also had the most fortunate habit of getting in the sort of trouble Stiles' skills knew how to solve.  "Peter, I told you if you ever need an appointment you can call. I hope you didn't wait long. I would've cleared the day for you." Stiles tried to recollect his composure and professionalism. 

Peter swanned in and plopped gracefully down in a chair like he always did, but this time he chose the one more off to the side instead of directly in front of Stiles before he replied, "Nonsense. Besides, I wanted Derek to see what you can do." 

The stranger, Derek, scoffed, "Right. It was so important for me to see that poor sucker get scammed worse than people taking their pictures with the characters on the strip." 

It was Stiles' turn to scoff. "I helped him." 

Derek raised an eyebrow, "By scamming him using his dead grandmother? That's pretty low if you ask me. If you'd ever lost anyone you'd know what it's like to want to give anything you have just to hear from them one last time." Derek turned towards Peter before speaking again, "This guy? You brought me to this hack for help?" 

Derek went to walk out of the tent but Stiles interrupted his gait with an irritated tone, "I did help him." 

Derek turned around and crossed his arms right in front of the opening. "How do you figure? By taking his money? Fooling him?" 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes dumbass. Look, that man didn't need me to tell him about how he just needs to move on and not be so desperate. He needed to believe in magic for a moment, to hear from his grandmother. He certainly didn't need the money, but he did need to feel like she was safe and passed on okay. He needed that so he could feel okay. Believe, don't believe it doesn't matter. What matters is that he can sleep at night." 

Derek had softened his posture some, but his arms stayed resolutely crossed. "Can you? Knowing you lie and take their money?" 

This was the easiest question he answered all the time. "Yes. Because if I have the choice between lying to someone about someone who has passed or a decision they had to make to ease their pain a little, or telling them the ugly truth that only hurts I'm going to make them feel better. Besides, only the people that want to feel better come to me." 

Stiles looked at Peter's shit eating grin. Stiles squinted at Peter. There was something in the way Peter was looking at Derek that made Stiles feel like he was missing something. Stiles turned his eyes back to Derek and looked him up and down this time with what Scott and his clients called his 'other gaze', but it was really just him looking for clues. Derek tapped his finger against his bicep while he stared down Stiles' intent searching. 

Stiles finally felt like he grasped what Peter was smirking about. "And where do you work?" 

It was the first time Stiles felt like he caught Derek on the off foot. His eyes went steely and his jaw clenched, it made the muscle in his neck clench. Stiles wanted to lick it. Derek spat out, "I hardly see how that matters." 

Stiles grinned. "Oh what do we have here, hmmm?" Stiles tapped his own cheek, he enjoyed making Derek squirm immensely. "A partner or just a spoiled rich kid living off of family money would make you complicit enough, but no it's deeper than that. Not a bartender, you'd get hit on too much and murder someone." Derek narrowed his eyes, but Peter was gleaming with glee. "You don't seem like the behind the scenes number crunching type, and with a face like that it'd be a crime. No you're up close and dirty." Even with him standing across the room and Peter still there Stiles liked the effect he could barely tell he was having on Derek. "Oh no, please tell me-" Stiles didn't even try to stifle his laugh. "You're trying to lecture me about morals and taking advantage of people when they're down and you're a fucking dealer at your family's casino?" 

Derek's face turned sour and Stiles let out a belly laugh. Peter even chuckled slightly. Derek uncrossed his arms and kept his clenched fists by his sides as he stalked closer. He leaned over the table and felt the heat from the candle streaming up to his chin. "I don't use people's dead families to get a buck." 

Stiles sobered at that cutting remark. "No. You use their alive ones." Stiles interrupted Derek's attempt at a rebuttal, "Oh come on, how many 'just one more hand' men walk up to your table leaving behind little girls asking for ponies and wives just begging to not take the money that puts food on the table? How many elderly women are just looking for someone to talk to and something to do and instead gamble away their grandkids college or trusts? I won't pretend like either of us don't take money from vulnerable people, but can we both agree that they're willing to give it. And in a lot of cases they need to give it, even if it only helps temporarily." Stiles tilted his head and raised his eyebrows looking for some form of agreement from the other man. 

Derek merely squinted his eyes and leaned back upright. 

Stiles, ever the bigger person, would accept that. Also he literally couldn't afford to lose Peter as a client. "Now how can I be of service?" He pointedly looked away from Derek and to Peter. 

Peter shrugged and motioned back to Derek. "It's his problem, his story. As much as I love talking with you Stiles." Peter put a hand over his heart. 

That made Stiles smile and roll his eyes considering the first time Peter and him had talked it went much worse than this. Stiles had stabbed him. Stiles looked back at Derek.

A moment of silence later Stiles grabbed for his cards. "How about I give you a free reading to break the ice." 

Derek huffed and crossed his arms again. 

Stiles groaned out, "Oh come on tall, dark, and broody! If Peter brought you here it doesn't matter how much of a hack you think I am, I can help. Sit down and let me read you, then we can move on to giving you the help you so desperately need." 

Derek reluctantly flung the chair back and slammed down into it while making a gesture that Stiles chose to interpret as, 'Oh please help me! Take all the time you need. You're so gracious.' instead of it's more probable meaning of, 'Let's get this over with.'

Stiles began shuffling the cards and took a deep breath to focus and Derek rolled his eyes. 

Stiles huffed out, "Dude, come on. This isn't going to help anyone if you can't even get over the way I breathe." 

Derek started to unbutton his coat. "I just don't think someone holding the key to my future would say dude like a teenager playing Fortnite." 

Stiles got a lot of flack for not being an eighty year old Romani woman so he let it go while doing a couple regular and then reverse shuffles. He slid out the cards in front of Derek in one swift move. 

"I know that trick too." If Derek could look more unimpressed it would surely be record breaking. 

Stiles' head fell to the table and then he whipped it back up to glare at Peter. "God, why did you even bring him here he's such an asshole!" 

Stiles muttered mostly to himself, "That's not even my trick yet." When he turned back to Derek he looked a bit shocked at Stiles' outburst. Almost as if he'd never been called an asshole before, but Stiles knew without a shadow of a doubt that wasn't true. 

"Pick three." Stiles crossed his arms as Derek draped his coat over the back of his chair. 

"Do I have to think about it?" Derek still looked like he'd rather be stepping in dog poop right about now. 

"Nothing so strenuous. Wouldn't want to wrinkle those eyebrows anymore than they already are. Just choose. The cards will call to you." 

Another eyeroll and Derek snatched out three random cards. 

He was about to turn them over when Stiles interjected, "Oh wait, no don't turn them over. That's for me to do." 

Derek stared flatly before setting the card back down.  

"This is just your basic past, present, future spread to get you started." Stiles flipped over the first card. "I'm sure pop culture hasn't failed you so much that you don't know we start with your past." Stiles looked at the card and grimaced. There was a man pierced nine times with swords pinning him down to the ground and another blade jutting up through his heart. The sword blade side pointing to the sky through the body was the only one that had a curved shaft, much like a scimitar. Ten different swords at all angles each causing the anguished look on his face. The battlefield beneath him was more blood than grass, however from the top of the hill his body rested on past all the blazing bodies you could see a vibrant sunrise off in the distance. The man's long limp hand was still gripping the sword stabbed into his heart as if trying to undo the damage done. 

"So do I have to read my own tarot, or are you going to get to it sometime today?" Derek snarked. 

Stiles blew air through his nose at him and started to speak, "Ten of swords. This is a card that shows not just pain, but utter devastation. I'm sorry for all that you've gone through. I can only ima-" 

"You've met Peter before. The family fire was all over the newspapers, only one search away. If you want to use my dead family to trick me you're going to have to try harder." His tone was sharp and cold even as he tried for flippant and his eyes shot icicles directly at him. Derek twitched like he might leave based on Stiles' response. 

Stiles looked to Peter almost as if he was asking permission. Peter nodded. "Do it Stiles." 

Derek hated being looked at with pity, but at least for once he didn't think it was because of his dead family. Stiles almost looked like he was pitying him for what he was about to say. 

"Swords in general mean pain, loss, suffering. The ten in particular means hitting bottom, destruction, failure, feeling stabbed in the back. It can mean betrayal by those closest to you. In your past you were betrayed and it caused the worst day of your life. Your downfall came from your heart and the very one you trusted to safeguard all that was precious to you drove it to ruin instead." Stiles paused to look up at Derek. 

If his earlier demeanor had been chilly icicles now his gaze turned to thawed spring pools. He wasn't on guard anymore, but it was just as dangerous. The vast changing depth of the emotion showed in Derek's eyes made Stiles want to dive in till he drowned. He had never had a reading feel like this before. Something about Derek's eyes felt like he was being read right back, every tell every twitch being examined. Just as easily as the warmth had shown itself it was gone. 

Stiles continued, "But a lot of the swords cards portray loss and defeat. The ten of swords is more specific. It can mean new horizons, it can mean a fresh hope, and the end of a cycle. Ten specifically is the darkest hour before dawn has come. This card tells me you're ready to move on, never forget, but to move forward and truly honor those you've lost by living the way they would want you to." 

Derek had a sharp retort that he wanted to fling back at Stiles but it died on his tongue. No one knew about Kate, except Peter, and he wouldn't be calmly reading a magazine to the side if Stiles had just blurted out that he told him. Maybe a year ago or hell even a few months ago he would've bitten Stiles' head off and stormed out, but he'd been calmer since he moved back to Beacon Hills. The job and being close to Peter and Cora had helped. He knew Laura was just a phone call away and he'd always be grateful for his time with her in New York afterwards, but Beacon Hills was his home. He knew that deep down in his bones even if he didn't quite feel at home just yet. 

"Read the next card." Derek demanded.

Stiles was already flipping it over. There was a group of young saplings in a field. It looked as if a great storm had passed through, branches were strewn about the ground and even some of the trees uprooted.  "Your present. The page of wands, but it was drawn in reverse. This can represent strangers thrust into our lives. Often with the pages cards it has to do with some sort of mentorship or student, learning or growth in some capacity. Drawing it in reverse means something has gone wrong with this apprenticeship. Sometimes a reversed page means foolhardiness, recklessness, or even impulsivity. You're dealing with a situation that is causing you much strife and worry. The trees you've planted have been uprooted or thrashed in some way and you fear it is your fault. This card seeks to tell you it isn't your fault, but still your responsibility. You planted the seeds and tended to them, but you cannot control the storms that come, and even more difficult to accept, you cannot weather them for your pupils." Derek's face was an unreadable wall that made even Stiles question if he was way off. "Do you have anyone you're mentoring right now, or someone who has aligned with your path only to stray." 

Derek replied with no emotion. "You could say that." 

His indifference pissed Stiles off. He was really trying here and this dude couldn't care less. He was going to have to have a talk with Peter about bringing in hot men that were determined to look at him like the dirt under his shoe. Stiles trudged on, "Okay, final card. The moon. Huh, well that sucks." 

Derek leaned in and asked quickly, "What? Why does that suck?" 

A little part of him felt the victory in that, but he shoved it down knowing Derek would leave if Stiles showed that he thought he had won. 

"It sucks because it's an elusive card. It's hard to get an answer out of a moon card. The future is still fluctuating for you." Stiles picked up the card to study it closer. The most prominent thing in the card was of course the moon, but there was a smaller moon reflected in a river. The flow of the river bisected the card on one side there was a family camping next to a roaring campfire and on the other a solitary wolf with red eyes. There was a harsh breeze blowing through the woods on the side of the wolf, but a raven was gently gliding in the canopy above the joyful family. This card confused him, and that rarely happened when he did an actual reading. 

Stiles attempted to pull it all together. "There are a lot of female moon goddesses, this card can hint at women's health, and cycles. All in all this can be a very feminine card, maybe a mysterious or obscured from you woman is trying to warn you or lie to you. I don't know. This card also represents cycles, what we begin we are doomed to repeat, but also that good and evil, dark and light never truly go away they just have phases. There are dark sides to the moon, but also a brightness that we must remember isn't always the time to grasp for just yet." 

Derek's arms crossed once again. "A woman that is either trying to help me or lie to me? So you're just seeing a woman in my future, you don't know jack shit about what she's actually there to do?" 

Stiles huffed. "Look, it's difficult sometimes." He studied all three cards this time looking to unlock the final one. "It's a major arcana so it's important. Look, see? The ten of swords is an elemental card of air, but the battlefield was covered in fire. The page of wands is an elemental card of fire, but the trees were bashed by wind. That could hint towards the feedback loop of your past and present, your inability to let go. Then the moon card is water based, in this card there remains the elements of wind, moving the trees and fire in the campsite, but water takes up a majority of the space. Water is cleansing, healing, restorative. There is the destruction and pain of the fire present as well as the change and motion of wind, but for your future it's important to stay mailable and looking to where the river takes you, not where it's been. There's two sides to this card one holding elements of your past card and one holding present. This could imply that sooner rather than later you're going to have to make a choice between the two. The lone wolf poses a danger to the family and the family poses a danger to the lone wolf. One must triumph over the other, but the moon does not tell me which choice you make. It only tells me that you and you alone must choose." 

Derek soaked all of the confusing information in. "So I assume the family around the fire represents my past, and the lone wolf my present?" 

Stiles considered it before answering. "Not necessarily, it could mean the opposite. Remember your past card was air element like the wind above the lone wolf, and then your present was fire element. Also there's a raven in the corner above the family. Raven's represent many things across cultures. Absolute power in Nordic traditions due to their allegiance with Odin, they became a very prominent harbinger of death and murder in the victorian era, and in many cultures represent occult and the knowledge it holds." 

"So which is the bird in this case?" Derek asked. 

Stiles looked very somber for a moment before replying in a serious tone. "I've already given you the answer." Stiles dropped the mystic act and cocked a brow at him. "What part of your future is fucking elusive bro and I don't know didn't register with you." 

Derek's mouth gaped in shock. He banged the table and thrust out an open palm towards Stiles. "This is literally your job!" He looked towards Peter. "You're paying him to talk like this to you?!" 

Peter chuckled. "No, right now I'm paying him to talk like this to you."

Derek pulled both of his hands towards his face to cover them with a harsh slap. The moon card had fluttered over onto it's backside with the frenetic movement. 

Stiles quirked his lips at the card and squinted his eyes. He flipped it back over gently.

It was like a completely different card. The moon still hung prominent, but instead of a bright blue river it was stained red. Equally the wolf's previously crimson eyes had turned blue and instead of the pensive look the wolf's maw was lifted in what looked like a baleful howl. The wind was still in the trees. The family was nowhere in sight around the campfire which had turned to just embers. A crossbow bolt held the raven against a great oak tree as its blood seeped down the trunk. The blood trail lead to the river. Stiles didn't know if it was just harder to see the silver against the shiny blue water that was there before, but he hadn't seen the sword at the river bed before. A long curved blade rested at the bottom of the blood stained water taking all of the focus the moon had held before. 

Derek put his palms on the table to push himself up. His chair made an awful noise as it was pushed back. "I'm done with this. You had me for a second, but you lost me." 

Peter started to protest, but before he could get anything out Stiles' hand whipped out and grabbed one of Derek's wrists where it was pulling away from the table. Stiles spoke hoarsely. "Derek. Look at the card." 

Derek's eyes moved in-between Stiles' eyes and where he gripped his wrist. When he saw that he wasn't taking his hand off he huffed and contemplated prying off his fingers. For such a scrawny dude he had quite the grip. Derek bit the bullet and just looked down. He frowned at the changed card. 

Stiles removed his hand to move his past and future cards closer together. He pointed out the heart sword and then the one at the bottom of the river, the same sword. "Derek she's back." 

That seemed to rattle Derek, because the surprise when he looked back up to Stiles was plainly written on his face. Stiles' eyes had glossed over with a milky white moving haze. "She's coming and she will kill them. I sent you the bird. Don't be a featherbrain." 

If surprise was on his face before, now Derek's face showed utter shock. "How did you know that?!" 

Stiles' eyes slowly went from milkshake back to whiskey and with one final blink he was back in control with the moment. "Your mother. She used to call you that sometimes because when you were five you got really angry and called her a feather brain instead of bird brain. It was one of her favorite memories of you." Stiles smiled softly. "She was beautiful." 

Derek looked distrustful even still. "How did you-"

"Do that? Know that? I didn't. When you're as sensitive as I am to divination magic something as simple as telling someone's fortune can bring to life spirits around them that haven't passed on full or are pulled back."

Derek's face showed sorrow. "My mother hasn't passed on fully?" 

There was that pity written all over Stiles' face again. "You think you're the only one that pays the price for the pain you can't let go of? Mercy isn't earned Derek, otherwise your mother would be at rest, it's given. I can tell from not only your past card, but in everything you present to the world your grief defines you. It limits you. It confines you. It is the only thing that holds you here. It is your only anchor in an unsure world, one that holds you back rather than holds you down. The cards tell you you are doomed to repeat the cycle of grief and despair if you cannot let it go." 

Derek looked gutted hearing he'd been the cause of his mother's wakeful sleep. 

"It's not painful." Stiles lied. 

Derek looked at him fully disbelieving. 

Stiles sighed knowing he shouldn't have tried to lie to a werewolf. "Not physically. But if she can sense how lost her son has been without her it can be harmful. I've given her a sort of temporary rest for now." Stiles left out the part about how Peter had been using Talia's spirit for various side projects so he was familiar with putting her on ice. He got the sense this made Derek uncomfortable and he didn't know what to do with the various revelations he'd had. "Now that we've got all of that pesky disbelief out of the way let's get to the meat and potatoes. Why are you here?" 

Derek once again slumped into the chair, but this time with much less irritation and more acceptance. "Two of my pack- err friends are missing." 

Stiles rolled his eyes at the half cocked cover up. "You can say pack I know you're a werewolf. Also dude you just saw my eyes go into twenty seven year old shitzu mode, I think we're passed the me not knowing about the supernatural point." 

"Do you have to be such a smartass? They're not pack." 

"If you want a monotone no nonsense fortune get chinese food or I think the bowling alley might still have a Zoltar machine." Stiles saw the barest hint of a smile after that one and he couldn't help the way his stomach jumped. Stiles continued while trying to repress his glee, "How long ago did they go missing? What do you want to know? Where they are? Who took them? Are they alive?" 

"Two weeks. We got into a fight so I thought they were just cooling off." Derek looked guilty. "I should've known." 

Stiles reached out where Derek had his hand on the table. "I don't even always know, and it's literally my job." 

Derek pulled his hand back. "Yes. To your earlier question. I want to know all of them." 

Stiles shook his head. "You get one." 

Derek waved his hand dismissively. "Money is no object. I need to find them. They're my responsibility." 

Stiles looked regretful. "Amazing I am, all powerful? Sadly no. You get one, not I'm giving you one." 

Derek nodded understanding and then fell silent. He looked to Peter after a moment who seemingly understood his nonverbal request. 

"I'd ask if they were alive. No need looking for a dead racehorse." 

Derek gave Peter a less than thrilled look. While Stiles scoffed and replied, "Peter! That's so rude. Stop pretending to be heartless otherwise one of these days we'll believe you." He turned to Derek. "One question. Take your time." 

The gentle noises of his shop filled the silence as Derek looked deep in thought. Stiles patiently waited. Derek finally spoke, "I want to know where. Where are they, how do I get to them?" 

Stiles shook his head. "Where they are might not necessarily be how you get to them. That's two questions." 

Derek's fists balled and he caught the barest hint of fangs in his snarl. "How is that two! How will I get to them if I don't know where they are?!"

Stiles spent most of his day to day with the supernatural. He was used to supernatural beings asking him for help, used to being around them in desperate times. Although he had magic, it was divination based. More often than he'd like he was at the mercy of raging upset people with the ability to kill him only equipped with answers they came for but still didn't want to hear. Stiles recognized the wild look in Derek's eyes. The desperation, despair, and rage were there, but also an overwhelming guilt. Normally that cocktail had his eyes flashing white hours before so he knew to call Scott to help, but this time he felt something strange. His magic didn't warn him against, it almost thrummed him towards. 

In these situations Stiles had lost count of the times visions had saved his life. However, this flash of his eyes thrust him backwards instead of forward. 

He was in his father's backyard, but not how it is, how it was. Stiles took a step, but stopped to look down. He was barefoot. The warm soft summer grass tickled and pillowed his feet. It was almost dreamlike even though Stiles knew that wasn't how this worked, this was real. He heard a sharp shriek and looked back up towards the yard. 

A little brown haired boy screamed in joy as he ran towards something. His mother. 

Her bright beautiful smile was stretched wide with pure joy. She held her arms wide open from where she was sat on the delicate fluffy grass. It brought tears to his eyes. She was so beautiful. This moment was beautiful, however he knew what happened next. Not because of his abilities, but because he had lived it. 

He heard a growl and even as he tried to turn he only saw a flash of grey. He couldn't see it now, he hadn't seen it the first time. 

Stiles had long since killed the urge to try and call out or change things in his visions, but tears did sting his eyes at the ruined memory. It always hurt to see how much she had loved him before. Once again Stiles' childlike shriek sliced the air, but this time pain filled. The dog had crossed the yard faster than his mother could get up. His jaws sank into Stiles' chubby kid like calf and a sharp stinging had both sets of Stiles' now tear filled eyes looking down at their respective legs. His leg had the marks, blood, and pain but the dog was only attached to his younger self. 

Hearing his mother scream for his father he looked to where she now had them separated and the dog bit at her ankles. Fat tears ran from Stiles' eyes before he buried his pain stricken face into his mother's neck. 

Stiles knew what happened next. His father came barreling out, the owner ran up, his mother yelled, and his father calmed everyone down. He didn't need to see anything else, frankly he didn't remember anything else other than going to the hospital and crying. 

Yet he lingered. 

He saw his father collect information from the man with his hand on Claudia's back. He tuned out of their conversation to look back at her. She wore a look he'd seen many times, but never on his mother. She was terrified. Not of the now calmed dog, or what had just happened. He searched her face, but only came up with fear. 

His mother had always been an avid animal lover, but after this moment she had changed. Something about it had scarred her. He was never allowed to get a dog, not even allowed to bring it up. Why had this moment scared her so much? 

Realization struck him like a ton of bricks as his body exploded in pain. He felt pulled and thrashed as he was assaulted from all angles by phantom fangs. He shouted in pain as the blood ran from the dozens of bite marks menacing his body. He looked at his brutalized limbs and then back up. 

Gone was the scene in front of him. Only pitch black and grass remained along with his mother empty handed. She was staring right at him. She looked at all the blood but this time there was no yell or movement towards him. She had a blank face, she only tilted her head. 

Stiles had figured out why she had been so scared. That moment was the first time she hasn't divined something bad before it had happened to him. It was the first time her magic failed her. 

Stiles looked back to his wounds then to his apathetic mother. 

"Someone has to care Stiles. Tread lightly you know not what the devil will bring to your door if you invite him in." 

Stiles pushed down the frustration at how vague his vision had been as he was thrust back to the current moment. Not a second had passed, Derek was still as irritated as he has been. "I need to know where they are!"

The memory he had just experienced softened him in a way he never was with clients, much less new ones that hated him. He gently placed a hand on Derek's fist. 

"You feel responsible. We can't claim others blame for a harm that if within our power we would've prevented. Blame is a terrible mistress. The longer you blame yourself the more she gets away with. It makes you rash and impulsive. Your friends are not just lost or gone, they are guarded against you. An unsteady hand cannot unlock even with the right key." 

Derek looked taken aback and yet a shutter of calm rattled through his physicality. He took a breath. "I changed my mind. How do I get to them?"

Stiles once again shuffled the deck, but this time arranged five cards with a measured grace. He put the first four in a square formation and then filled the middle with the last card. They looked like the dots on the five face of a die spread out in front of Derek. Stiles flipped the first card in the top left corner of the square from Derek's point of view. 

The magician. Stiles frowned at the card. His tarot deck was magic in more ways than one. Mostly they were just a focus for his divination magic, but they changed to suit the person and what he was divining for them. Sometimes the pictures even moved, or like it had before, changed images mid reading. This had never happened before though. Normally when he pulled the magician card for someone else it looked either like a legendary witch or like his mystic persona. This was an image of him in his kitchen looking down into a mug of tea. The scene was very intimate and domestic. There were swirls of his magic that cleaned his kitchen and he was just in his Batman PJ bottoms. His hair was sleep ruffled. There would be no mistake. 

"It's me?" Stiles sounded puzzled. 

"Well yeah I assume you painted the deck. A bit pretentious to paint yourself. What does it mean?" Derek asked impatiently. 

"It means me." Stiles pushed out even though he still sounded so unsure. "Not just magic or magic user, this card means me."

Peter piped up, "Well that makes sense. We came here, you're the first step on his journey. Yada yada." 

Stiles shook his head filled with unease. "No this means me. Like me, me. Something I do or tell you, not the reading. The reading speaks for itself, and this is saying my name." 

Stiles moved to flip the next card but Derek put his hand over his. "Whoa whoa, what does it mean though? Do the thing like you did with the others." 

Stiles shook both his head and Derek's hand off of his own. "No. I don't know yet." Stiles felt an unease fill his stomach yet he flipped the next card. 

There was a little boy triumphantly holding two identical sticks up in the air in this card. His proud toothy smile was crowned by bright blonde curls and a cozy knit scarf sat snug around his neck. Behind him laid a crossroads. One long winding path lead to a home and the other back to the woods. 

Derek grabbed at the card hurriedly before showing Peter. "Look familiar?" An edge of worry was in his tone. "This looks like my friend Issac. What does that mean?"

Stiles shrugged. "Two of wands definitely pertains to your question, it's a card of where do I go next. Sometimes the deck draws on what is familiar to you, but it could be a warning. Since we asked such a pointed question I would caution just disregarding it wholly. Maybe bring him with to find your friends." 

Derek looked apprehensive. "I haven't talked to Issac in years. He's in France now." 

Stiles continued, "Maybe it's nothing. The message in this card could be for you. You stand at a crossroad between home and familiar and returning to the woods, the more wild side. Either way this card often has to do with the sadness and loss of having to give something up to pursue a goal or vision. It has to do with dominion over people and the power to control things, but in the same vein an indecision and hesitation." 

Stiles fingers floated over the middle card and went right for the bottom left. They danced for a moment there. "The first two cards were about preparation. What you did do to find them. This, this is how you find them. Where your journey leads." Stiles flipped the card. 

The card was a frenetic animated mess of roots and weaving waving branches. Leaves were fluttering and scattering haphazardly. It was just an ordinary windy forest except for eight thick trunks intricately carved with runic symbols. 

"Eight of wands, haste makes waste, but delay is in poor taste. Timing is everything. This card shows that you need to hurry, but poor planning is the fool's folly. Once you find your confidence to strike there can be no delay, but a fight with mind, body and spirit in tune is necessary as well. This card also can mean being smitten with love due to early depictions of the eight wands looking like cupid's flying arrows. Somehow I doubt that's happening here." Stiles looked up to Derek's face and he was still looking at the cards deep in thought. 

"Oh I don't know, we've got wolf and witch how far stretched is a baby with aim in this moment. After all, unlikely places." Peter teased. 

Stiles flipped the last corner card. 

Similarly to the last card Stiles spotted the runes right away this time and noted they were divining runes on both cards. This time they were carved into branches stuck into the ground like a palisade. All eight of them had the runes, but so did the walking stick the man leaned on. The branches cut off the man from his warring past, and even though there was more carnage ahead of him this was usually a hopeful card. He was bandaged and bleeding, but there was a glint of determination burning in his eyes. Eyes that looked straight at Stiles. 

He had pulled the card in reverse. 

Stiles sucked in a breath and tried to think. 

"Just say it." Derek cut in. 

"Yet another wand card. Wands are cards of action, fire, and decision. It's an urging card. You must do, experience, embody. You've also pulled a lot of cards related to journeys and hard decisions. This one though is usually a very positive card. In reverse it means triumph comes at a great cost if you insist on doing it before you're ready or alone. No warrior alone wins a war and no pain is lessened by feeling it in solitude. This card warns of losing this fight. Of losing what could be precious to you. Of the future you could lose." 

"These aren't helping me figure out where they are." 

Stiles shook his head. "You chose how to get to them." 

Derek huffed in annoyance. "Show me the last one."

Stiles flipped the last card. 

A clearing in the woods created space for the only thing of note in the card. A woman in a cloak with kind whiskey eyes and chestnut hair sat on the ground with an outstretched hand resting on a wolf skull. Small bluebell flowers grew from the eye sockets. 

Once again the overly personal nature of his card's portrayal caused him to pause. Stiles found his words, "This is the death card. Do not judge it. It doesn't represent death itself, it represents the transition to a new phase of life. It's a hard road with one final battle before... Something. I feel a culmination. An answer to the question you've spent a lifetime seeking. How do I get there is your question, but the cards wish to tell you a different answer. The cards say this road leads to pain and loss, but there are two sides of it. Two paths to take. Do you dwell and go back to the pain or do you forge ahead and choose a new beginning? Your choices and actions matter. You alone can choose the future or the past, but your choices have consequences for you and those around you." 

"How is this the way I get to them?" Derek asked.

Stiles sighed. "Unfortunately the cards are not call and answer. They're more ask and the mystical random dude you came to will maybe slightly point you the right way in the dark." 

Derek's annoyance spiked as his patience waned. 

"Hey look dude I gave you the way it's up to you to find it. That's what I got for you take it or leave it man." Stiles set the deck to the side but left the spread. 

Derek stared at all of the cards intensely. "What if I don't figure out what they mean?" 

Peter piped up, "You already know what they mean." 

Stiles pointed a finger over to Peter. "Ding ding. Bingo. Someone's been paying attention on his visits. You win a prize tall, dark, and creepy uncle."

"Is it more time with you, because I already pay your rate for what I want. Well, what I can get from this shop." Peter winked at him. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Your prize is don't get coffee tomorrow morning." 

Peter squinted his eyes. "Noted." 

Stiles turned back to Derek. "Follow your gut. Listen to the cards. Oh also for the love of Weiner dogs, have a plan. But definitely act! Don't wait too long. Oh and unless you..." Stiles trailed off after he realized he wasn't helping. 

Derek stabbed a finger into the cards. "These mean fuck all!" 

"Focus. This isn't where they are. You didn't ask that. This is how you'll get there, the journey. Look at the cards, really look. Not for what you see, but what they could be telling you. We have multiple senses, but our most powerful is our inner sense. What pulls you, what draws your eye." 

"The woods. They seem familiar." 

Stiles nodded. "Good. Familiar how? Have you been there before? Do they feel like home?"

Derek tilted his head. "Like I've been there before." He tapped on the card with the curly haired boy. "Okay say Issac has something to do with this, why is he a kid though?" 

"Did you meet him as a young boy?" Stiles asked. 

Derek shook his head. "I met him about five years ago when he was sixteen. His dad was... Not the best. He needed a safe place and I could help him." 

Stiles studied him as he spoke. "That's not the only reason. I can tell you're a good person, but I can also tell there was something about this boy. Just now you looked sad for him, but not in a sympathetic way. You looked genuinely empathetic. I won't ask what or who, but I just ask that you consider this with an open mind. Maybe he represents something childlike in you. A time you had been lead astray from your path, taken advantage of. A time you needed protection." Stiles could tell from the steely jaw and hard eyes he had made a correct assessment. "Don't linger on those moments, but unfortunately I think something about that situation will point you in the right direction."

Derek gave a curt nod and cleared his throat. "Can I take a picture of these?"

"Of course." 

Peter and Derek both stood up. "We've taken enough of your magnificent time." Peter mocked a bow. 

"Always a pleasure Mr. Hale." Stiles bowed his head back. 

"Um, thanks." Derek stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. "Oh, how do I pay you?" 

"Your second born and a year's subscription to divination doodads magazine." Stiles said.

"Funny." Derek said with a deadpan tone. 

"I know I am, it's my best quality. Dude you just pay me like anyone else credit, debit, cash, I even take Paypal." 

"Debit is fine." Derek took out his wallet as Stiles stepped behind the counter. He punched a few things and Derek swiped his card. Before putting it back he hesitated before speaking,  "You really don't feel bad about this? Charging people to help them?" 

Stiles shrugged. "I gotta eat. Do you feel bad asking poor suckers betting their mortgage payment, black or red?" 

"Yes." Derek confessed. 

"Then of the two of us the one out of balance with their life isn't me. Would you like your receipt?" 

A laugh shocked him as it made it's way out. Derek agreed. "Maybe you're right. No thanks."

"I hope you find them." Stiles said earnestly. 

"Don't you already know?" Derek asked walking to the door. 

"Not how it works. But I do have a feeling you will." Derek seemed the determined type to Stiles. 

"Do I have to pay extra for feelings?" Derek's hand rested on the doorknob, but he waited for Stiles' reply. 

"Nah, I'll give those to you on the house." Stiles smirked at him. 

Derek heard the bell chime and wondered if Stiles had enchanted it. Things long dormant in him fluttered to the surface as he left. 

He would find his friends. Maybe afterwards he could come back to the shop to thank Stiles for his help. Maybe. 

***

Stiles juggled some of the grocery bags to the other hand to knock. It was a long day, a taxing one with the Hale's visit. He was glad it was over. It had been strange having such a personal vision in the middle of a reading. It had thrown off the rest of his day till he decided to close up early and hit the grocery store. Seeing his mom's face filled with such joy had been like a balm on a wound long closed. It didn't heal anything, but it helped the scar stretch. He missed her so much he wished he could revisit that moment when he wanted to, but it was a vision not a mercy. 

The door finally opened and the dagger struck his heart like it always did. A woman with warm whiskey eyes and chestnut hair opened the door surprised. "Stiles, what are you doing here?" 

Stiles took a deep breath in for when his throat inevitability caught. "Hey Ms. Gajos." 

She smiled. "I told you, you can call me Claudia." 

Stiles forced a smile and pushed on. "I really can't, you know that." 

She took some of the bags from him. "Ever the respectful young man. The sheriff sure raised you right. And I told you you don't have to keep bringing me groceries. You and your father have been like mother hens since I fell doing the gutters. It wasn't even that bad and it was months ago." Claudia gestured wildly as she spoke. 

Stiles turned away from her and placed them on the counter. "My mother did a really good job too." Stiles' eyes went glossy but he willed down his emotions. 

He turned back after a moment and she looked lost in thought. "Right of course I'm sure." She looked around confused. "Were we having dinner? You brought over stuff for meatloaf? Are we having meatloaf?" 

Stiles pulled himself together. "No Ms. Gajos. I should go. I'm sorry." Stiles felt the familiar spiral of pain, indulgence, and then finally guilt. 

She looked so upset. "No no, you can stay. I just can't remember. I can't remember something?" She looked at him with lost pleading eyes. "Are we supposed to eat together? Just let me remember what I-what I... Stiles I'm forgetting." 

Stiles started to panic. He grabbed her glasses. "Here. Calm down Ms. Gajos. You're just forgetting your glasses." He held them out hoping he hadn't sent his mom into a spiral. 

Her face got wiped of concern and panic and she smiled. "You're such a sweet boy. You better head home. How silly of me and I'm not even sixty yet. Forgetting my glasses what an old lady thing. I thought I'd be all old and wrinkly and covered in baby powder by that time you know." She snorted. 

"No you're not old. Everybody forgets little things every now and again." He reasoned. 

She turned and cupped his cheek and smiled. "It's good I have a little mischief maker like you around to help me remember." 

"Yeah." His voice croaked. "Bye." He turned and walked to the door without looking back. 

"Drive safe. That jeep is a death trap!" 

Stiles only waved behind. 

He made it to the jeep and threw it into reverse as the tears fell. Seeing her was always hard, but today he'd pushed too much. He wished he could stop visiting, it only upset her. But how do you greive someone who's still there? Neither of them could let her go. The town and doctors thought it was just a bad case of amnesia, but his dad and him both knew. They knew this was a curse. A nasty one, one that Stiles had been trying to figure out for over a decade. 

The curse had made her forget, but the real curse was that they remembered. Knowing didn't make it easier, in fact he so often wished he was the one that forgot. But that wouldn't piece their family together. 

He couldn't help that right now. He could pour over tomes like he did every night, but right now his mind pulled to Derek. That was a unique reading. He didn't feel as in control as he normally did. He wasn't guiding Derek though the cards, the cards guided both of them. Thinking about the strange gruff man brought a smile to his face. He had liked him a lot more than he expected. Derek was as unique as his tarot cards were. Something about him was magnetic and repelling in equal measures. Although he was pretty sure he was rude on purpose. 

Taking another slow breath out he reached for another, pushing aside the lid and peering in. His brows furrowed when the smell of ash didn't hit his nose, but instead, stale, faint Jasmine and bergamot. His mind swept through memories of walks in the woods, gentle lectures, and coffee dates. Laura's perfume.

He plucked the small purple bottle. This box wasn't from their house. It was things Laura had left in their apartment in New York. This was the box Derek had packed after she died. He pulled out a framed picture of the two of them. A coffee date two days before she left for Beacon Hills.

He pulled a book on flowers. She had gotten into flowers after the fire, picking up a hobby his mother had loved. She was the best florist he knew. She could make even the ugliest flowers fit into a beautiful arrangement. Laying the book next to the perfume on the table, he continued to rifle.

A small jewelry box that held a simple silver necklace. A flower charm dangled from it. A recipe book she bought when she wanted to learn to cook. And a familiar purple box, gilded in silver stars and moons.

It had been a gift for her birthday. Another hobby she had taken up. Derek had never teased her about her many hobbies. He knew they were something to fill the emptiness she was feeling. He knew because he had felt it too. He had attempted to fill his own void, but he often found himself numb and distant.

He brushed his fingers along the small box before plucking it out. He opened it, making his stomach roll.

"So the three-card spread has many variations but I really like past, present, and future. Watch." Laura had laid the cards out in an arch. "Pick three." He did as told plucking three from the deck. They were black with gold filigree.

Derek rolled his eyes but said nothing as she stumbled through her reading.

"Okay, so you pulled..." She paused glancing up at him. "The three of swords upright." Her eyes saddened. "Your past is filled with suffering and grief. Your heart feels broken."

Derek narrowed his eyes. They were dangerously close to topics he didn't like to discuss.

"The second card is your present. And you pulled—" She let out a small sigh. "Five of cups upright... You feel a great loss, you're drowning in self-pity and grief."

Derek's jaw clenched. He didn't want to play this game anymore.

"The last one is your future." Laura's tone tried to sound hopeful. She flipped his third card and froze. Her fingers partially concealed a cloaked figure holding a lantern. "The Hermit reversed," She whispered.

"Let me guess it's just as bleak as the others?" Derek sneered.

"You face isolation and loneliness, you may feel aimless like you're lost."

"This is stupid. It's all fake." Derek swiped at the cards scattering them to the floor of the kitchen.

"Derek," Laura huffed, scrambling to gather them up. "I borrowed these."

Derek had felt bad for how he reacted and gifted her with her own deck. She didn't ask to do another reading for him though, and he never offered.

"Alright, Laura," he said, opening the box. He splayed the purple cards across the table and stared at them. The stars and moons shimmered in the sunlight that peeked through the window.

He slowly pulled three cards from the deck and laid them face down in front of him. It couldn't be all bad. Right? Maybe his luck had changed. It was a decade ago that he had last pulled cards. He was a vastly different person now.

He flipped the first one to see a figure draped in a purple robe, holding a scythe in one hand. Leafless trees framed him. The card faced away from him.

"Death reversed," he whispered as he compared it to the guidebook. "Fear of change, stagnation, decay." He frowned at the words. His stomach twisted, this was already not going well. But it was his past card. Perhaps his present card would be better.

His fingers brushed over the silky exterior. He took a deep breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. He flipped the card. A moon peered up at him. In front of it were six swords held aloft, in front of the moon. Beneath them looked to be a vast ocean of purples and pinks. This one faced him.

He flipped through the book to find the six of swords. His stomach flitted as he read the words, transition, leaving behind, moving on. That didn't seem so bad. But what did it mean? He wished Laura were here to tell him. What he wouldn't give for her to be here.

"Future," he breathed reaching for the final card. He was surrounded by people who cared for him. He wasn't alone or lost. He was right where he wanted to be. He wasn't missing anything. This could rip it all away though. Show him a disruption he wasn't willing to accept.

He considered briefly not flipping the card and just packing them away but a tug at his chest froze him in place. He could almost hear Laura's words. 'You can't be scared of your future, Derek, that's how you get stuck in the past.'

He hurriedly flipped the card. Two people faced each other, each one holding a cup in their hand. They leaned into each other like lovers.

Derek blinked at the upright card and flipped to find the right page. Unity, partnership, connection.

Relief rushed out of him. That didn't sound bad at all.

The sound of voices outside had him quickly shoving the cards and book back into their box. That would be Cora and Stiles back with the last load of boxes from his old loft.

He managed to get the box closed just as they entered, each one carrying boxes.

"Just set them in the living room," Derek said, trying to act nonchalant. He didn't know why he was acting like he'd just been caught reading porn. It was a silly card read.

"Oof, you started on the hard ones first. How's it going?" Cora asked, glancing at the ash-filled boxes behind him.

He turned to the boxes on his dining table and shrugged. "Honestly, it's pretty bleak. I don't know why we kept these all this time."

"Are you planning on keeping them?" Stiles asked, peering at the one open box of Laura's behind Derek.

"Not most of them. Maybe this one but the rest are..." he shook his head.

Cora lifted one of the lids and her expression went hollow. "You kept this?" she whispered. She reached in and pulled out an alphabet block. He could barely make out the letter L through the scorched wood.

Stiles sucked in a breath.

"Laura was... I didn't have the heart to argue with her." Derek shrugged.

"You shouldn't keep these." Cora put the block back and stepped away from the box like she could catch something from it.

"Yeah, I think I'll keep the box of Laura's things from the apartment in New York but the rest..." How was he supposed to throw them away though? It felt...wrong. Like he was forgetting them.

"Why don't I take these out to the jeep, you guys can start unpacking the other boxes." Stiles stepped past Derek and Cora and gathered two of the boxes into his arms.

Derek's chest warmed. He was glad Stiles was there. He was often like a soothing balm on a fresh wound when it came to his past. He never pressured Derek or made him feel less than. In fact, he was always so supportive.

"Did you go through those while we were gone?" Cora asked, meeting Derek's eyes.

"A few of them."

"I'm sorry. You should have waited for me."

"I honestly forgot what was in them. I knew it wouldn't be good but... You have to understand. We were in a low place. Keeping this was the only way we knew how to cope."

Cora rounded the table and placed a hand on Derek's arm. "You don't have to explain."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Derek bowed his head in shame.

"You said you're gonna keep Laura's box?" Cora turned to the perfume bottle and raised it to her nose.

"Yeah, she uh, she picked up a lot of hobbies while in New York." Derek gestured to the cards and books.

"Cooking, like dad always did." She smiled at the recipe book. "Flowers. Mom was always so good." She brushed her fingers along the cover. She paused as she got to the deck of cards. "She got into tarot?"

"Yeah, I bought her those." Derek nodded. "No clue where she got the inspiration to start."

"Me," Cora whispered.

Derek frowned at her. "I had a friend at the time, Savannah, she got a deck for her birthday. I told Laura I wanted a deck for my birthday. She listened to me rant for two days about how it works and the different pulls."

Derek blinked. "She wasn't just filling the hole with hobbies. She was filling it with all of your hobbies."

Cora opened the deck as Stiles returned. "Is that a tarot deck?" He asked, peering at the cards as he gathered the last of the boxes.

"Yeah," Cora laid out the cards.

"You never told me Laura was a fortune teller," Stiles nudged Derek as he walked by.

"I never got my deck," Cora spread the cards out and placing her hand over them, swirled them around the table. She continued to mix them up.

"What are you doing?"

"It's how you shuffle them."

"Pull a card," Cora urged.

"What? Why? Don't you have to have like a special spread and such?" Derek pretended to not know how it worked. He didn't know why. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

"You can do a single card pull. It's often good for clarity. Or if you have a question. It's been a long time since I've messed with tarot honestly."

Derek stared at the cards. He didn't have a question. And despite his most recent pull not being so bad, he was still afraid of them. Like they alone could disrupt his life.

"My mom had a deck when I was young," Stiles said, returning once again. The boxes were all out of the house.

It was almost like a weight was lifted off Derek's shoulders.

"I'm trying to get Derek to pull one."

"It's fake," he grumbled.

"You pull one," Stiles urged her.

Cora plucked a card. "The Star upright." She held up a card with a woman looking up into a night sky, a star gleamed down at her from a distance.

"I have no clue what that means," Stiles shrugged.

Derek pointed to the book. "Look in there."

Stiles flipped through pages and then tilted his head. "Wait, it's just some words."

Cora snatched the book from his grasp. "Well, duh, it's interpretive. So the star upright means hope, faith, and rejuvenation."

"Wait, but I thought..." Stiles frowned down at the cards before gathering them up into a pile. "Hold on, let me try— oops," Stiles reached for the card that he dropped.

"What is it?" Cora asked wide-eyed. "When you accidentally flip a card, that means the universe is trying to tell you something."

Stiles laid the card on the table.

Derek's stomach lurched. The two of cups card lay upright.

"Two of cups," Cora hummed, flipping through the book. "Unity, partnership, and connection."

"What on earth could the universe be trying to tell me with that card? I'm not even dating anyone."

Derek's heart sped in his chest like it could escape the situation. Surely that wasn't what his card was referring to.

"Maybe you're gonna meet someone soon."

"In Beacon Hills?" Stiles snorted. His eyes cut to Derek briefly.

"I dunno, I'm not a professional tarot reader," Cora shrugged, gathering the cards back up.

"There's one downtown by the station."

"Think she'd teach me?" Cora laughed.

Derek stared at Stiles, his mind reeling. Did that mean something? Surely not. It was chance. There were only seventy-eight cards. The chances of pulling the same card were... less than two percent if he was doing the math right. Shit. That wasn't a high percent. Surely that had to mean something.

"Well, I should get going. Derek, if you need help unpacking all these I can come back by tomorrow."

Derek blinked trying to process the words Stiles had just spoken. "Uh, I uh, sure."

"Okay, I'll see you around noon then?" He gave Derek's forearm a gentle squeeze as he walked by.

Derek nodded, unable to say anything.

"Thanks for your help, see you." Cora held out a fist and Stiles bumped it with his.

Derek loved how easily Stiles fit in. Like he was meant to be here, part of the family. It felt natural having him around.

Once Stiles was gone, Cora turned to him and crossed her arms.

"What?"

"How much longer are you gonna pretend that you're not in love with him?"

Derek stiffened. "He's family, nothing more."

"He could be literal family if you got your head out of your ass."

Derek shook his head. "Stiles deserves better."

Cora scoffed. She poked him in the chest. "That's a pathetic excuse and you know it."

Derek scrubbed a hand down his face. He stared down at the box of tarot cards. He had spent the last two years convincing himself that Stiles deserved to find someone outside of the supernatural. Someone normal. But when he pulled his future card...

"I need to run out for a bit, you want to order in tonight?" Derek asked, grabbing his keys from the counter.

"Uh, Sure. Chinese or Pizza?"

"Chinese," Derek answered sliding on his leather jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," He answered vaguely, he took the steps from his new house two at a time. This was stupid and he didn't know why he was doing it but he was determined to get answers.

-

"Are you really doing this?" Derek asked himself staring at the sign in front of him. The 'Matron of Ravens' it read. The shop was small, its glass front was decorated with raven symbology. The words 'for fate seekers' were plastered at the bottom in elegant scroll. A simple porcelain mask hung from the corner. Through the glass, he saw shelves of tarot cards, crystals, and other trinkets.

"You seem hesitant dear," A voice pulled Derek's attention to the door where a woman in a long black dress stood. Her thick hair was pulled into a black side braid that draped to her waist.

"Yeah, I don't really know why I'm here." Derek glanced over his shoulder at the car. He should just get back in and go home. Pretend none of it had happened.

"Yes, you do. You're just afraid of the answer." She smiled. "You can't be scared of your future. That's how you stay stuck in the past."

Derek's head whipped back to face her, his eyes wide.

"Come inside." She walked in, not waiting for him to answer.

Derek followed despite the pit in his stomach. He didn't even believe in fate. And she was right, he was afraid of the answer. He wasn't going to do anything about it.

The inside of the shop smelled like lavender and sage. It wasn't overbearing to his senses though.

"Sit." The woman gestured to a table with two chairs that sat behind an open draped room.

Derek sat and let out a slow breath. He felt foolish. His heart hammered and his stomach rolled.

"My name is Maven Dusk," She said, sitting across from him, the curtains now drawn giving them privacy. The space was so small Derek almost wondered if this was meant to be a closet.

"Derek Hale." He glanced around. The walls were draped in tarot iconography and ravens.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Maven asked, clasping her hands together on the table.

"Aren't you supposed to know the answer to that?" Derek asked, focusing back on her.

Her lips quirked into a smile. "I'm not a mind reader, Derek. I'm a tarot reader."

He dropped his chin to his chest and let out a breath. "I'm sorry, I just..." he scrubbed a hand down his face.

"You're troubled by something. What is it?"

"My sister. She had this deck." He glanced around expecting to see one lying around but there was nothing on the table but a black tablecloth. "I don't know... I don't believe in this stuff, no offense."

"You must if you're here."

"I didn't. But I pulled this card and I don't know what it means. I mean, I read her book but... it's just the keywords or whatever."

"Is your sister versed in the way of reading tarot?" Maven asked, tilting her head slightly.

Derek's shoulders dropped. "She was learning...but she's..." he trailed off.

"Ah, I see. You feel like she may be trying to tell you something?"

Derek met Maven's eyes. "I did a three-card spread. It's the only one I know. Past, present, future. And it didn't mean much to me, but not ten minutes later someone pulled a card and it was the same card I pulled for my future. The deck was shuffled. The chances of that are... I mean how often does that happen?"

Maven leaned back and hummed. "You want to know if this person is important to your future?"

"I can't imagine a world in which he's not," Derek muttered. "I want to know what the card means."

"Well, why don't we see if it shows itself to you again?" She pulled out a deck from seemingly nowhere. Had they been in her pocket?

She spread the cards out in an arch.

Derek's stomach vaulted. "Wait."

She paused, looking up at him. "Is something wrong?"

He shifted in his seat. He didn't want another pull.

"You claim to not believe in them yet you fear the cards. Why?"

Derek frowned down at the black cards. Gold lines draped across them, converging to a porcelain mask in the middle.

"I had a bad reading once and I just..."

"The cards don't control your future. You can change it at any time. That's the beauty of it. Go on."

Derek took in a slow breath and let it out as he reached out. His hands shook as he plucked three cards from the lineup.

"First," She nodded to the first card Derek pulled.

He hesitated before closing his eyes and flipping. The artwork depicted a man riding a chariot, being pulled by two horses. It was reversed.

Derek sucked in a breath as he waited.

"The Chariot," Maven hummed. "You lacked control and direction in your past. You held onto aggression. Perhaps you were controlled by an obsession or goal."

Derek let out the breath. That was true. But he was in a better place now. He carefully flipped the next one. An arch of leaves held up by four posts, in the distance were two people in celebration. The card faced him.

"Ah, the four of wands. This card is often associated with community. This card shows celebration as well as a harmonious, happy, and relaxed environment. You are currently in a happy place. Your life has balance and stability."

Derek nodded. Once again true. He stared at the final card. Part of him hoped it was a different card. Part of him hoped it wasn't.

"You fear your future. Why?"

"Because I'm right where I want to be."

"Is that why you came to see me? Because you're right where you want to be?"

"I'm afraid of it getting messed up. I've worked hard to get where I am. I can't—" he shook his head. "I won't lose that."

Maven smiled warmly. "Are you at risk of losing that?"

"I don't think so."

"Then why not be excited for the future? Eager for what more you may accomplish." She gestured to the card, urging him to flip it.

His throat shriveled like leaves on a hot day. He could do this. It wasn't a big deal. He flipped the card over quickly. A hand held a cup that overflowed into a lake below it.

"Ace of cups." She smiled. He wanted to take that as a good sign, but he couldn't push away the anxiety. "I see why you're afraid now."

Derek straightened in his seat.

"The keywords here are love, new feelings, and intuition."

His stomach rocked.

"You have feelings for someone, don't you?"

"What does the card mean?" Derek pressed, ignoring her question.

"Well, it suggests the awakening of new feelings. Or perhaps a new stage of intimacy with someone. This card signals there is an opportunity for you to grow emotionally should you accept. You only have to learn to trust your gut and avoid over-analyzing situations."

Derek scrubbed a hand down his face.

Maven frowned, watching him. "You seem displeased. Many would be thrilled to receive this card."

"I can't—"

"Tell me what future card you pulled earlier." She urged, tucking his picked cards back into the deck.

"Two of cups," Derek said softly.

"A card known for unity and connection." She nodded. "That card encourages the beginnings of partnerships of any kind, and the harmony that arises when two people come together to work in unity. It also suggests a relationship that is mutually beneficial, one where the partners encourage one another."

Derek's throat stuck.

"You fear this. Why?" Maven tilted her head at him.

"He deserves better."

"Perhaps you are his better."

Derek blinked at her. No. She just didn't know the whole story. "He was messing with the deck. He dropped a card and it flipped over facing him. It was the two of cups."

"So you think that he is who you will end up with?"

"I don't know... how else do you explain it?"

Maven gave him a sympathetic look, it made him feel small and judged. He hated it. He shrunk back into his seat. What was he a thirteen-year-old girl?

"It's all up to interpretation. Do you love him?"

Derek swallowed, his throat still like glue. "Yes."

"And how does he feel about you?"

Derek opened his mouth and snapped it shut. Did Stiles feel something for him? He never questioned it. Stiles had never hinted at it or acted differently. He never smelled different either. A new fear gripped his chest. "I don't know."

"Perhaps he thinks you deserve better."

Derek frowned. The idea that there could be better than Stiles was a ridiculous notion.

Maven plucked a card from the middle of the deck and slid it forward. "Perhaps you should stop overthinking it and just make the leap."

"I don't want to lose him. If he doesn't want me then—"

Maven sighed, sliding the card back into the deck. "I cannot tell you want to do. I can only tell you what the cards say."

"Thank you. I feel better knowing what they mean." He wished he had more clarity with that knowledge, unfortunately, though he was only more unsure.

-

Derek sat at the kitchen island, staring at the tarot cards in front of him. They were splayed out like Maven had done. He could only stare though. He didn't know what he was waiting for. The cards weren't going to jump into his hand. His sister wasn't going to appear and claim to be trying to sway him from the other side.

"Knock knock," Stiles' voice called from the front door. Derek whipped around to see Stiles stepping inside. He jumped to his feet.

"Stiles, you're—" Derek glanced at the clock on the stove. Noon. "Right on time," he sighed. How long had he been staring at those cards?

"Yeah?" Stiles frowned. "Are you playing with those cards again? You did not strike me as the tarot type."

"Yeah, I'm not." Derek rubbed at the back of his neck.

"So what's with these? You decide to become one of those whimsical ladies on the front of tarot monthly?"

Derek snorted a laugh. "No, I was just... thinking I guess."

"Let's see what the universe has to say." Stiles reached over and plucked a card from the spread.

"This is the same card I pulled yesterday," Stiles hummed showing the two of cups.

Derek stared at it.

"What does this card mean again?" Stiles reached for the book but Derek snatched the card from his hand.

"Whoa, hey, what—"

"Pull again," Derek demanded.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"Pull again."

"Okay." Stiles grabbed another card from the deck. He held up the Ace of cups this time.

Derek snatched it from his hand. "Pull again."

"Derek, what's going on?" Stiles tilted his head, eyes scanning his face.

"Just—" Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, before slumping back into his seat. He let the cards fall away.

"What's wrong? Talk to me?" Stiles placed a hand on Derek's shoulder and it was like everything melted away. Stiles was always a comfort for him.

"I keep pulling these cards and..."

"I didn't think you believed in this."

"I don't."

"So why are you letting it bother you?"

"I don't know. I did a pull for myself and then I went to that tarot place downtown and paid for a pull there. These two cards were my future card and I'm just... trying to understand."

"They're just cards. Maybe you're putting so much stock in them because they were Laura's."

Derek sighed. "Maybe."

"Or maybe the cards are telling you that I'm your future," Stiles laughed.

Derek's shoulders slumped.

"I'm kidding."

"I think you're right."

Stiles blinked at him.

Derek's heart slammed against his chest wall as he searched for any scent changes. Nothing.

"I'm confused."

"Do you know what these cards mean?"

Stiles shook his head. "I mean, I don't know this one," he grabbed the Ace of cups. "I think the other one was something about connection."

Derek stared into Stiles' eyes. They danced worriedly in the bit of sunlight that filtered through the kitchen window above the sink.

"You left Beacon Hills. For years. Why'd you come back?"

Stiles' brows shot up. "What?"

"You could have settled down anywhere, but you chose to come back here. Scott moved to L.A. Lydia is traveling the world. Why'd you come back?"

Stiles shifted. "My dad's here and..." He shrugged, his eyes dropping to the card in his hand. "so are you."

Derek cupped Stiles' chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "You deserve better."

Stiles blinked again, his brows furrowing. "If you're afraid of me leaving, I'm not going anywhere, Derek. This place is my home. You are my home." His eyes flitted down to Derek's mouth for just a moment.

Hope rocketed through him. Don't overthink it. Take the leap. He could do that.

Derek surged forward, catching Stiles' lips on his. It was less of a kiss and more of a declaration. A promise. A leap. He pulled back just enough to whisper into Stiles' mouth. "I want to be your better."

"I have no clue what that means, but yes," Stiles dove back in, reconnecting their lips.

That was definitely coming from downstairs. Throwing back the covers, his bare feet hit the cool wood floors.

He silently slipped on the jogging outfit he'd laid out on the top of a box labeled 'Stiles' PJs' the night before.

It was probably raccoons getting in the trash. The non-existent trash. Because they'd not even filled a single trash bag because they'd only been sleeping here for three days. He took in a breath and let it out slowly. He was being paranoid. Not everything was scary and dramatic. He had removed himself from that life. Chose not to go down that path. He chose a normal life. A quiet life. With Stiles.

Derek reached the bottom of the steps and froze. A shadow passed across the back door. Too large to be a raccoon.

Maybe it was a bear. Their property backed up to woods. It wasn't impossible. Despite his mind trying desperately to rationalize it, Derek couldn't push the fear away. What if it was hunters? What if they caught wind of him?

With a gentle click, he unlocked the back door. His heart hammering in his chest. Every muscle in his body froze as a cool breeze wafted over him, carrying with it the scent of a wolf. All apprehension melted from Derek's mind. This was no raccoon or bear, this was a threat. In his home. In his and Stiles' home.

Instinct flooded his veins. Fangs extended into his bottom lip. His fingernails lengthened into sharp claws. He would not let his old life threaten Stiles. They were happy and nothing was going to jeopardize that.

He followed the scent around the side of the house, where a figure was yanking on a closed window.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. The intruder paused, turning to face him.

Derek lunged.

A tangle of teeth and claws. This werewolf was no alpha, but he was strong. But Derek was stronger. He hooked an arm around the man's front. A sharp pain tore across Derek's forearm forcing him to release the intruder. The wolf took advantage of his freedom and bolted across the backyard. Derek gave chase. Close on his heels, he followed him to the dilapidated building at the back of their yard. With another lunge, Derek plowed into the man's back, sending them both rolling through the floor of fallen leaves.

The werewolf jumped to his feet and leapt at him. Derek grabbed an old nearby shovel that was propped against the paint-peeled wall of the shed. He swung, slamming the rusted spade into the side of the wolf's head.

A soft ping rang out into the early morning. The wolf's body hit the ground with a soft thump along with the shovel head, which was now no longer attached to the handle still in Derek's hand.

He panted, his breath fogging in short bursts. The wolf lay unmoving. His head cocked at an odd angle. The threat was gone. But now he had a body to deal with. The wound on his arm was already healing, but his blood had started to dry on his skin. He lifted the handle of the broken shovel. He couldn't bury the body with that.

Letting out a cloudy sigh, he tossed the broken handle aside. The sun peered through the treeline as it rose from its slumber. Birds greeted it in song. He had an hour or two max before Stiles would be awake.

He dragged the body around the back of the shed, out of sight. He'd have to make a run to town and get a new shovel. Following his footsteps back the way he came, a trail of his blood painted the fallen leaves. It lead to the side of the house, where a spattering of red decorated the side. He'd grab a rake too. He wiped at the blood and groaned when it smeared across the off-white, wood planks. And some paint.

Derek scanned for any other sounds or movement before heading inside to grab his keys. He paused in the kitchen. He'd wanted to finally have a real meal with Stiles. One that didn't involve cold cuts and drinks from a can. He was going to make Stiles breakfast. He'd have to settle on coffee. It was the first thing to get unpacked. He snatched a pack of sticky notes from a box labeled 'office' that hadn't made it into the other room yet.

He stared at the pad of paper. He felt bad lying to Stiles. But it was for his safety. Knowing about this world was dangerous. He scribbled a short note and turned the coffee maker on.

He turned on the sink and scrubbed away the dirt and blood from his arm. He made a list in his head of things he would need. A shovel, a rake, paint, a paintbrush, a sponge, a bucket. And peroxide. It was good for getting blood out.

He listened for any movement from upstairs. Nothing. He glanced back at the gurgling coffee maker where the note was stuck. He buried the guilt before heading out.

-

Derek pushed his cart full of supplies to the checkout. He scanned each item, mentally checking them off. Shovel, rake, paint, paintbrush—

"Derek!"

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting his husband's. His heart skipped. "Stiles...hey, what are you doing here?" he stepped around the cart, hoping to hide the basket of supplies to avoid any questions.

"Oh you know wanted to fill up the house, get some groceries for my husband. Even though he did leave me in an empty bed. There's a monster in our house that eats peanut butter-like breathing."

Derek's heart dropped. "A monster in our..." he shook his head. "Oh right." He gave a nervous laugh. Paranoid much? He thought to himself. There was no monster, Stiles was just being funny. "Sorry about that. I just wanted to get an early start. I made sure the coffee was ready though."

He stepped forward, pressing a kiss to Stiles' full lips.

"Yeah, thank you, that was really nice honey bun," Stiles said, holding his hands up in a finger guns motion.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly. They caught on a large glass candle. He plucked it from the pile of groceries in Stiles' cart. He sneered at the name. 'Sweet vanilla chai kisses'. "Really?" he shook his head, setting it back down.

"Hey, say what you want, white girls got nothing on my fall game. I got the healthy cardboard cereal you pretend to enjoy as a compromise." Stiles winked.

An affectionate smile tugged at Derek's lips. "You take such good care of me." He brushed a thumb gently along Stiles' chin. It was true, and Derek was thankful for Stiles every day.

"I'm great at this marriage thing. Hey, what are you doing here?" He glanced around Derek and into his cart. "Did you sign us up for a HGTV show I don't know about? A rake and paint? What happened to you by the way? I thought I was the one with godlike grace and agility."

Derek slid a hand into the cart, pushing the large sponge to cover the peroxide bottle, that one would be harder to explain. "I was just trying to fix up that old building for you, I know you were excited about it. And the yard could use some TLC." Derek shoved the guilt aside once again. He hated lying to Stiles, but how would he tell him he had a dead werewolf in the backyard?

Stiles moved forward, bumping the cart gently into Derek's hip. "Look at you, not so bad at this yourself, handsome. I will fight you for the Husband of the Year title, though. I was thinking of making butternut squash soup and salad for lunch, how does that sound?"

"A home-cooked meal? You win automatically. I'm headed out actually, so I'll see you at home?" Derek wanted to get rid of the body before Stiles got there.

"Okay, yeah. Before you head out, you need me to get anything for you from the store?" Stiles teased with a laugh.

Derek's eyes softened. He was so smitten. Stiles could ask him to murder everyone in the store and Derek wouldn't hesitate. "Maybe a less poisonous candle? Or are you gunning for my life insurance already?" he smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Be safe."

"You have unscented ones. And I don't need money nearly as much as I need someone to make me coffee in the morning," Stiles called over his shoulder as he turned to continue his shopping.

Derek pushed his own cart toward the counter to check out. "Oh, maybe some of that creamer with the picture of the dog dressed as a pumpkin. You know the one." Of course Stiles knew the one. Stiles knew everything about him. A nauseating tug at his stomach reminded him that he didn't know everything.

-

Hoisting the rake over one shoulder and the shovel over the other, Derek made his way toward the back of the building. He hoped the body hadn't magically disappeared in the time it took to fetch a proper shovel. He didn't know if someone would come looking for him. He didn't know anything about this guy. Why was he trying to break in? What was he after? Who sent him? These would have been good questions to ask, but Derek's mind was on one track that morning. Eliminate the threat. Now the threat was eliminated but he had no clue if more would be coming.

Stepping around the building, the body was still where he'd left it. He patted the body down, searching for some clue as to who this man was and what he wanted. There was nothing. With a grunt, Derek grabbed the ankles and drug him into the woods. The last thing he needed was a dead body buried directly on his property. His father-in-law was the sheriff after all.

It took far longer than Derek thought it would to dig the hole. He chucked the body into it and wiped at the gathering sweat on his brow. Despite the crisp autumn air, he was now drenched.

He shoveled the dirt over the body as the soft hum of Stiles' voice reached his ears. He smiled to himself. He must be cooking. His stomach rumbled in anticipation of lunch. He hadn't eaten yet. But he still had work to do. There was blood staining the side of the house. He'd need to clean that before Stiles noticed.

Swiping underbrush over the freshly turned ground, Derek listened to Stiles' humming. He followed the sound back toward the house and gathered the other supplies.

The sponge sloshed peroxide and water onto the side of the house. It only managed to smear the stain further. He would need direct peroxide. He poured it onto the sponge and scrubbed. Most of the blood wiped away but the once off-white paint was still tinted pink.

Painting over the stain was easy enough and didn't take nearly as long as burying a body. The last thing he needed to do was rake up the blood-soaked leaves.

He drug the rake over the ground, catching something black in the teeth. It was a wallet. He opened it to see his earlier attacker's face. 'Ansel Williams'. Well, now he had a name. Though not much else. Glancing up he saw Stiles in the window. He quickly dropped the wallet and drug a pile of leaves over it. He gave an awkward wave. Stiles waved back with a smile. Derek glanced down at the bloody leaves at his feet. He should throw the wallet away, but what if someone came looking for him? What if Sheriff Stilinski came by?

Derek ran a hand through his hair. He was being paranoid again. The Sheriff would have no reason to come here looking for Ansel. Raking the wallet into his pile of leaves he decided to just bury the wallet in the woods near the body. Nobody shy of a lucky coyote would find it there. He finished raking the leaves and hiding the wallet just in time to hear a voice from the house. Not a voice he recognized. Listening closely, his stomach dropped.

"You must be Stiles."

"Hi, and who are you? Do you know my husband? Do I know you?"

Derek dropped the paint can he was putting away and sprinted toward the house.

"No, not yet. But I'm hoping to be good friends with you," The man's voice said. Was that an underlying threat?

He shoved open the back door a little too hard. It knocked into a pile of unpacked boxes before slamming shut.

"You and your husband. Of course. I just wanted to meet the new neighbors."

Derek came up behind Stiles just as he responded. "Oh, do you live nearby?"

A lupine scent hit his nose, making his hackles rise.

Stepping in front of Stiles, Derek narrowed his eyes. "This is private property, what do you want?"

The man's dark brown eyes went wide. His nostrils flared. "Uh, sorry, I was just..." he took a couple steps back, his foot faltering on the top step. "It was nice meeting you."

Stiles thrust a hand out in greeting. "Oh, don't go. No, I'm sorry. This caveman with no manners is my husband." Stiles shot him a sharp glare. "Please don't mind him. We'd love to have your company. I just finished making lunch."

Derek snapped his head toward Stiles. He didn't know who this person was. He was inviting a threat in to eat with them. "I'm sure he can't stay." It was lousy as far as excuses went, but he didn't know how else to get rid of him without Stiles fussing at him for his lack of manners.

The man shook his head. "Oh, no, I—"

Stiles grabbed Derek's arm, giving it a hard squeeze. "I insist." Derek knew what that meant. He was gonna get fussed at for his lack of manners anyway.

An awkward silence hung in the air. How did he get rid of this man without telling Stiles that he was dangerous?

"Come in. What was your name?" Stiles stepped back to allow the threat inside. He made a shooing motion at Derek. Clenching his jaw, he obliged. His eyes watched the man's every move. If he was stupid enough to pull something, Derek would be ready.

"Ansel Williams," He answered, eyeing the pair carefully as he stepped inside.

Derek froze. His heart jolted. Shit. This man was looking for the dead wolf in the back.

"But you can call me Andy. I can see that your husband recognizes the name. It's very unique I know. It's odd that you don't th—"

"My name's Derek, nice to see you again." he stuck a hand out, pulling Andy's attention from Stiles. He gave a hard squeeze. "Stiles made soup. I hope you're hungry."

Andy gave him a curious look and smiled. "Famished." He followed Stiles with a newfound confidence.

-

The tension at the table was palpable as Stiles grabbed the plate of rolls and handed them to Andy. "So what kind of special assets does your company acquire?" he asked.

Andy took another roll, dipping it in the remains of his soup. "Well, it depends. Though we really go after the more coveted and unique people."

"Oh, so you're a headhunter?" Stiles sounded interested. It wasn't his fault he didn't know about the threat this man posed, but Derek hated how friendly he was.

Andy swallowed his bite of bread and smirked. "Something like that."

Derek continued to glare. He'd been glaring at this man through all of lunch. Everything out of this man's mouth was a lie. Other than the part about going after coveted and unique people. That was true. But what was it about Derek that was so coveted or unique? Nothing that he knew of. Unless it was because of his bloodline. The name Hale was well known, but to warrant a multi-attack? It didn't make sense.

"What do you guys do?" Andy asked, gesturing between the pair with his half-eaten roll.

"Well, I'm an online web designer so I work from home," Stiles answered.

Derek didn't respond. Why did he want to know what they did?

"And my wonderful husband is a basketball coach at the high school. The kids absolutely love him. He's so good with them. So much better than he is with adults sometimes." Stiles gave him a pointed look, patting his hand sternly. Derek could hear the reprimands that would come later.

"How very domestic." Andy smirked. His eyes were on Derek. He was taunting him. Derek wanted to rip this guy's throat out. But first, he wanted him out of his damn house and away from Stiles.

"It's a very rewarding job," he grumbled, hoping his response would appease Stiles enough.

"He's really very good. He took the kids to state last year. Honey, you should go show him the photo in the garage and your trophies. I have to go get dessert ready anyway." Stiles pushed away from the table. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Derek's temple. "Be nice and make friends," he muttered.

Derek gave a forced smile as Stiles squeezed his shoulder firmly. "Dessert will be just five minutes."

Derek waited for Stiles to leave the dining room before narrowing his eyes and gesturing toward the garage door. "Follow me."

Andy silently did as he was told. Despite his confident posture, he smelled nervous. Good.

Derek shoved Andy through the garage door almost sending him into a pile of unpacked boxes labeled basketball trophies. With a hushed whisper, he demanded, "What do you want?"

Andy whirled, squaring up with a false sense of confidence. "I want to know where Ansel is."

"Not here."

"But he was."

Derek took a menacing step forward. "What. Do. You. Want?"

Andy gave a smug smirk. "Ya know, that husband of yours sure is something."

Derek's arm snapped out and grabbed him by the throat, claws extending into his flesh, making Andy wince. His eyes flared red.

All color drained from Andy's face. "You're an alpha."

Derek's brows furrowed. He didn't know he was an alpha? Then what did he want?

The moment of hesitation was enough for Andy to throw his elbow into the crook of Derek's arm, making his grip falter just enough for him to yank away.

He slammed his hand into the garage door opener.

Derek lunged but Andy was already rolling under the opening door.

"Damn it," he swore. He started after him, but the door to the house opened, halting him in place.

Stiles stood in the doorway, a confused look on his face. "The pie is ready. Where'd Andy go?" He craned his neck as if to spot their guest. "You didn't murder him did you?" he joked.

Derek walked over to him, stepping in his line of sight. He huffed a laugh. "He had to go, wife called," he lied, hoping Stiles believed him.

As he got closer he saw a smudge of red on his lower lip. He reached out, swiping his thumb across it. He licked at the sticky substance and hummed, "Mmm, cherry?"

"Yeah... It is..." Stiles answered, but his tone was hesitant, like he was trying to put the pieces of something together. Something he would never be able to piece together because he was missing vital parts of the puzzle. Once again a twist of guilt wrenched Derek's stomach, churning his lunch.

He reached past Stiles, sending the large garage door rattling back down and forcing Stiles to step back into the house. Giving a sweet smile he gestured inside,"Shall we?"

-

The pile of boxes in the living room was less scary when he needed them as a distraction to avoid the questions from his husband. Stiles was obviously upset about Derek's behavior at lunch, but he didn't have a good answer. What could he say? The man was a werewolf come to kill him? He didn't even know if that was true. Andy had been less than willing to explain what he wanted.

He yanked open a box, digging through cords and surge protectors. How was he supposed to enjoy watching a movie when a threat was looming in the distance? Surely Andy would be back. He hadn't gotten what he wanted. Had he? What if what he wanted was information? Stiles had been more than willing to tell him all about them.

Pushing the box away, he yanked open another one, tearing it in his frustration. He plucked the DVDs, setting them neatly in the new entertainment center he and Stiles had picked out last week. It gave him pause. It was new. The house was new. How had they found him here? They'd barely lived there three days.

Derek replayed the brief conversation he had with Andy in the garage. He had been surprised when he saw Derek's eyes. He hadn't expected him to be an alpha. But that wasn't new. He'd been an alpha for years. Well before he met Stiles.

He could hear the hostile clank of dishes in the sink. It rang through his ears like an alarm. He was in trouble. He needed a lie. One that Stiles would believe.

Derek was knelt in front of the entertainment center, dvd's in either hand when Stiles stormed into the living room. "We're going to talk about how lunch went, and how you know Andy. Also, don't try to make me think it isn't a big deal. You don't normally act like that. And don't you dare try and tell me it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you Derek Hale-Stilinski and that lunch was not you and you shutting me out and not talking to me definitely isn't you..." Stiles sucked in a breath and waited a moment before gesturing to Derek. "Okay, I'm done now you can speak."

Derek sighed, setting the DVD's in his hands on the entertainment center. He pushed to his feet. Lying to Stiles when he was already suspicious wouldn't help matters. So maybe he could just be vague. "I had an unpleasant run-in with his brother." Not technically a lie.

Squinting at Derek, with his hands on his hips, Stiles asked, "How unpleasant? Do I need to go over there with the rest of the pie laced with laxatives, or poison?"

Derek couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. He huffed a laugh, wrapping his arms around Stiles' waist to pull him in. "No, I was being an ass. I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry. I promise to behave in the future."

Stiles melted into him and sighed in relief. "I like when you misbehave. I don't like when I feel far from you. Next time just slam the door in his face and tell me why we don't like them now." He nuzzled into Derek's chest.

Closing his eyes in a wince, Derek pushed away the guilt. How easy it was for Stiles to take him at his word. It made his chest clench. "Deal," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I found the DVDs. Pick one while I shower."

-

Derek was tucked under Stiles' arm, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly along his knee. Captain America played on the TV across from them. It was one of Derek's favorite places to be. Curled up with Stiles. He only wished he could fully relax. Despite his comfortable state, his mind was anywhere but the scene on the screen in front of him. His ears were perked like a dog waiting on an intruder. Is that what he was reducing himself to? Stiles' guard dog? That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a quiet life with his husband.

A gentle clunk made his heart leap. Was that upstairs? It couldn't have been the movie. This scene was too calm. Another softer thud had him sitting up suddenly. Stiles gave him a sleepy, confused look.

"We should make popcorn. I think the box with the popcorn maker got put upstairs. I'll grab it. You don't have to pause it." He said giving Stiles' knee a gentle squeeze before standing.

"I was just about to fall asleep, that's perfect. Popcorn will keep me awake. Do you want help?" Stiles offered, though Derek knew it was an empty offer, he always made the popcorn. Stiles got too comfortable and hated moving once the movie was going. Sure enough, he tucked himself further under the sherpa blanket as Derek rounded the couch. His keen hearing honed in on the obvious shuffling upstairs.

"No, I've got it. Keep the couch warm for me," he called over from the bottom of the stairs. Derek's patience for today was waning. He was going to rip apart whoever was stupid enough to break into his house. He hoped it was Andy.

The steps whined under his bare feet as he stalked to the top. His nostrils flared, searching for a foreign scent. He paused when a shadow crossed the floor of his bedroom. His claws extended. He expected the familiar smell of Andy to reach his nose, but it was someone new. Another wolf. A low growl escaped his throat. He was tired of people trying to break into his house. What did they want?

Derek stepped into the room to see a man by his, once locked, bedroom window. He stood tall, with dark hair, and olive skin. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"Took you long enough," The man said. His husky tone was almost bored as he leaned against the wall. He looked too comfortable.

"Let me guess, friend of Ansel?" Derek growled back.

"You know, I was disappointed when he didn't return. He was a good one. I'm guessing he's dead?"

"He wouldn't have been if he hadn't tried to break into my house." Derek glanced at the broken lock of the window.

"Right, about that. It was nothing personal, just business." The man smirked.

Derek's fangs dropped. "Nothing personal?" he scoffed. "What do you want?" he was going to get his answers before he killed this one, and he wasn't letting him get away.

"Well, not you." The man waved a disinterested hand as he pushed off the wall.

Derek's eyes narrowed.

"Surely you didn't think you were of interest? Frankly, I didn't even know he was married, much less to a werewolf."

Derek's blood ran cold. They were after Stiles. Before he could even register what he was doing, he had crossed the room. His eyes bled red as he closed the distance between them.

A brief expression of fear flitted across the man's face before his own eyes flared a dark crimson. So this was the alpha. Derek would be damned if he let anyone hurt Stiles.

Derek's claws dug into soft flesh. The lamp on their dresser shattered into pieces as the alpha's face smashed into it. Derek held his head against the top of the dresser, blood seeping onto the dark wood.

"If you even so much as think about hurting him—" Derek's words were cut off by a pair of claws raking across his gut. He stumbled back. Before he could regain himself, he was being tackled. He and the alpha tumbled into a pile of boxes, crushing them under their weight. Hastily folded clothes and blankets spilled out around them. Derek rolled to his feet and sank his claws into the man's ribcage, who snarled in pain. He was about to go in for a blow to the throat when he heard a cry of anguish from downstairs. Stiles.

Panic spiked through him. No. No. No. No. He should have known this was a distraction. Why else would they break in upstairs? He spun away from the alpha, his only goal now, to get to Stiles. A heavy thump had Derek scrambling down the steps in record timing. He almost didn't want to see what was waiting for him. Stiles' dead body? He couldn't bear it. He hopped the banister, not bothering with the last few steps. He needed to get to him. He landed in the foyer that opened to the living room, his claws and fangs still out on full display.

He barely got three steps forward before Stiles was skidding to a halt in front of him, his eyes wide.

"You're a werewolf?!" he exclaimed.

Relief and dread washed over Derek. Relief because Stiles was alive. Dread because Stiles now saw a side of him that he'd never wanted him to see.

A thud and snarl behind him had him spinning on his heels. There was still a threat. The alpha. He had to protect Stiles. Before he could strike, though, the small table that housed their one and only plant tipped. The vines of the Pothos Lydia had gifted them, whipped out and curled around the alpha's arms and legs. They climbed him, winding around his throat like a choke collar on a Doberman.

Blood poured from his ears and eyes as the vines punctured them. He let out a pained cry. It was choked off by green spilling from his open mouth. His face stretched like an Edvard Munch painting.

Derek took a stumbled step back as if he were afraid the vines would come for him next. The alpha dropped to his knees and crumpled to the floor. The green of the plant drained, leaving darkened vines and shriveled leaves draped over the now-dead alpha.

Derek's claws and fangs retracted as he spun back to Stiles, whose eyes faded from a vibrant glowing green. His hand was outstretched like Darth Vader. He lowered it, a panicked look on his face.

Derek blinked at his husband. His magical husband. "You have Magic?!" how had he not known? Before he could press further, his eyes fell to the spreading stain on Stiles' shredded blue shirt. The sharp smell of copper hit his nose. His stomach sank.

"You're hurt." He reached out, desperate to see how bad the injury was. But the look on Stiles' face made him unsure. God how he hated being unsure with Stiles. Was he afraid of him? Disgusted by him? He paused his outstretched hand.

Stiles looked down at himself as if inspecting the wound. "I'll be fine, really. It's actually helpful that you're a werewolf," he gave a weak laugh. His expression remained unsure, his eyes almost timid. "Can I touch you?"

Derek's heart cracked. Stiles never hesitated to reach out. Were things really so different now? Did this change how he felt about him? Fear crushed him. He wasn't ready to lose Stiles.

"Please," he whispered desperately. He needed to feel his husband.

Stiles gave a small smile, his eyes filling with tears. Despite the permission, he still acted as though he were afraid of Derek, slowly extending his hands and gently clasping his forearms.

"This shouldn't hurt at all. I'm just borrowing your ability to heal."

Derek didn't care if it killed him so long as Stiles was okay. Relief wafted from Stiles as golden light climbed through Derek's arms and to Stiles'.

"Take what you need." His eyes glanced passed Stiles toward the living room, where Stiles had been coming from before. What had happened? Someone had hurt Stiles. The scent of Ozone painted the air.

Stiles' grip on his arms loosened. Derek pushed past him, his eyes scanning for the other threat. "Who hurt you?" There was no evidence that anything had happened at all. Did they run away? Were they hiding? Waiting to pounce again?

He followed the scent into the living room. Stiles blew past him and yanked the blanket from the couch to cover a body. But it was too late. Derek saw the body lying three or four feet from the kitchen door. There was no way to tell who this figure was by the way the body was shriveled and fried. It resembled the plant that lay dead in their foyer. But the smell in the air gave away his identity. Andy.

Derek gaped at the blanket. He knew what magic could do, but this was beyond anything he'd ever seen. "You did this?" he asked, almost not believing that his sweet, adorable, spastic, husband was capable of such power.

"I-I um, yeah," Stiles answered sheepishly. "He came up behind me and I-I just reacted." He chewed on his bottom lip. "I had to get to you."

Pride swelled in Derek. His eyes didn't leave the blanket-covered body. "Oh. Wow," he breathed. Stiles was incredible. He'd always known it but this... this was unbelievable.

"I'm sorry." Stiles' quiet tone made Derek whirl around to where Stiles had retreated toward the door. His arms crossed over his chest in an anxious, protective manner.

"No, don't apologize. I just... all day I've been trying to keep you safe but... you never needed me." It was a painful realization just as much as it was a proud one.

A tear slipped from Stiles' eyes. "I always need you."

The sight of tears erased any reservation Derek had about touching Stiles. He crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug. Relief flooded him when Stiles didn't shy away, but instead nuzzled into him. He didn't think he could handle if he was afraid of him. It felt so good to hold him.

"I think we have a lot to talk about," he said.

"Just give me a moment. I just need to hold you to know you're okay. I thought—" The words caught in his throat. "I thought they'd kill you because of me."

Had Stiles known them? He pet the top of his head, hoping to comfort him. "Who were they?"

Stiles shrugged into the hug. "I don't know. From what Andy said it seemed like they wanted me for my magic."

"How long have you..." Derek pulled back to meet Stiles' eyes. Surely this wasn't a new thing. He was too powerful for it to be new.

"Been a glowy, magical, young, hot, Gandalf?" he teased. "Technically since birth, but I didn't get any of the cool magic till after my mom died."

"So the whole time." Derek nodded and huffed a laugh.

"How long have you been... craving Scooby snacks?"

Derek gave an affectionate eye roll. "Also since birth."

"So the whole time," Stiles laughed.

How much stress and guilt could have been avoided if they'd just been honest from the beginning?

"Damn, I missed an opportunity to give you a squeaky toy as a wedding gift." Stiles teased again. "So you're an alpha? Where's your pack?" he asked.

Derek's eyes softened. He pinched Stiles' chin gently between his thumb and index finger. "Right here."

Stiles reached up, swiping a thumb at the corner of Derek's mouth. "I doubt this would taste like cherry." There was a smear of blood. He wiped it on his already-stained shirt.

Derek smiled and surged forward. Their lips crashed together. Not ten minutes ago, he feared he'd never get to experience this feeling again.

When they pulled back, they pressed their foreheads together. Derek breathed in Stiles' scent. It was a comforting one. One that now that he knew, was layered with a certain arcane spice. How had he not noticed before? Perhaps, it was true what they said, ignorance was bliss.

The space between them doubled as Stiles pulled back. His eyes searched Derek's. "But no really, where's your pack? You can't be an alpha with just one puny human that didn't even know you were a werewolf."

Derek tried not to wince. He had wondered when Stiles would press about his werewolf status. It was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to. "My alpha status wasn't planned. Wrong place, wrong time. I never wanted this." He gestured to the dead body under the blanket. They would not be putting that back on the couch. Too bad, it was a nice blanket.

"How long have you been an alpha?" Stiles' tone shifted from curious to mocking. "Since birth?"

Derek huffed a laugh. "Five or so years. I haven't really kept up with it. I never took a pack." He'd considered it briefly. But the idea of not being part of his mother's pack had been too hard. He'd rejected the idea completely. It felt too much like a betrayal. A desperate attempt to save a young girl had turned into a police investigation and red eyes in the mirror.

Stiles' brows pinched into a sympathetic frown. He placed a hand on Derek's chest, like he was trying to guard his heart. "Derek that- that's awful. Being an alpha without a pack is a terrible way to live. You have nothing to draw from, nothing to hold you down. It would be like if I didn't have my magic. Pack is a part of being a werewolf as much as magic is a part of who I am."

Derek sighed. He had never imagined having this conversation with Stiles. He had hoped to never have to. But it seemed like this was the trajectory of his life. His mother had warned him that he couldn't escape it. He had thought he proved her wrong.

"Becoming an alpha was... the worst thing that could happen to me. It took me from my family. They were my pack. I never wanted another one. But a pack can't have two alphas. It disrupts the balance." He stared into Stiles' honey-colored eyes. "Then I met you. And I knew I'd never need anyone else."

"You're all I need too, but Derek I don't want you to deny a part of who you are to be with me."

Derek would deny any part of him if it let him be with Stiles. But he knew well enough not to say as much. Instead, he asked. "What about you? Where's your coven? Am I gonna find a broomstick in one of these boxes?" he gave a teasing smirk.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "Do you think I'm a witch?!" he stepped back like Derek had struck him.

"Well, I don't know what you are." He gestured to the covered body again. "You're something."

"If you ever call me a witch again, I'm buying you a doghouse for out back. I'm a druid."

Those words struck Derek like a knife to the heart. A druid? No. He couldn't be. The room shifted around him. Or maybe it was just his entire life. His balance faltered, forcing him to take a stumbled step back. "Do-do you have an alpha?" Surely not. He would have smelled him. Unless he used his magic to hide him. The thought of smelling another alpha on Stiles was almost enough to make his wolf surface.

"Why would I? I already have one lug trying to tell me what to do." Stiles' tone was still light, teasing. But Derek's stomach was in knots as he listened for a lie. An emissary protected their alpha with their life. Stiles would be fully in his right to keep it from Derek. But he hoped he wouldn't. He hoped there was more respect and trust between them.

"You're an emissary though." His eyes continued to search Stiles' expression for any clue. If he had an alpha that would be almost as bad as finding out he had another husband.

Stiles squinted at him. A tell tale sign that he was being an idiot. "I'm a druid... I didn't specifically say I was an emissary. Derek, do you think all druids are emissaries? Because that's racist. I'm offended." He sneered in mock offense.

Derek blinked. "All the druids I've ever met are emissaries." Maybe Stiles didn't have an alpha after all. "Only alphas really deal with them. Why aren't you an emissary?" he tried to keep the hopefulness out of his tone.

"Because it's rare for a druid not born into or raised alongside a pack to become an emissary. To be an emissary is to be trusted with the pack's lives at the highest level, most of the time equal to an alpha. It's a huge responsibility, but an even bigger trust is needed. My mom left her pack back in Poland when she came here. I know it was something that she missed and always wanted for me, but I knew it would be too difficult to find."

The worry and fear drained from Derek. There was no one else. He almost felt guilty for being relieved. Poor Stiles had never known the love and safety of a pack. The alpha in him wanted to give that to Stiles more than anything. A sinking feeling dug into the pit of his stomach. "I hope I didn't keep you from finding that. You're incredibly strong. You'd make an amazing emissary."

"I gave all of that up when I met you. I had an opportunity out in New York. I almost left with a friend I had helped. He's a dryad and they had just lost their druid emissary. I realized what I had with you made me happier than that ever would. Sometimes I do miss it. Magic will always be a part of me." Stiles glanced down at his left hand and blue swirls of magic twisted between his fingers like a magician rolling a coin. "But Derek, don't think for one second that I'm missing out on what's meant for me."

"That's why he wanted you." Derek looked over at the dead alpha still in their hall. "You know, if you-if you wanted to be an emissary..." he trailed off. It was a scary thing to even consider, but he'd do anything for Stiles, even embracing this life. He stepped in, closing some of the distance between them, and threaded their fingers together. It was like sticking his hand into a frozen lake. Ice cold to the point it was almost painful. Almost. The blue swirled around their hands for just a moment before dispersing.

Stiles laughed. "Oh man, two seconds ago you thought all druids were emissaries. Absolutely not." Stiles squeezed his fingers.

Derek tried not to wince. It was hard not to take that rejection hard. But he understood. It wasn't something you did on a whim.

"I won't say yes to that until you fully know what it means. If you get sick of me you can't just divorce an emissary. Parting from an emissary is like ripping half of your soul away."

Derek fought to not scoff at Stiles' words. "I'd never get sick of you. Parting from you would already be like having half of my soul ripped away."

"Well, it's good you're stuck with me then." Stiles let go of Derek's right hand and threaded their left hands together before leaning in and pressing a kiss to where their wedding rings touched. "We can work towards it, but I have a feeling your emissary didn't tell you as much as they told your alp- Oh my god, Derek! Oh my god!" Stiles slapped at Derek's chest like he just realized something major. "Your mom is an alpha isn't she?!"

Derek was still reeling from his emotional whiplash of being rejected, before being told they'd work towards it to now being assaulted with questions about his mom. "Yes?" he frowned.

"Oh my god! At Christmas? At Christmas, they were all wolves?! How did I not know? This is insane! Your mom makes such a good green bean casserole and she's an alpha!"

Derek couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in him. God, Stiles was so endearing. "You'll have lots to talk about next year."

"Next year? I'm getting brunch with her next week. I'm not waiting for Christmas. This is huge!"

Panic briefly gripped Derek as it always did whenever Stiles interacted with his family. But it didn't have time to settle. There was nothing to fear any longer. No huge, life-altering secret to scare Stiles off. It was out in the open now. Stiles could have brunch with his mother every day— wait. "You're having brunch with my mom?" why had he not been invited? Why didn't he even know about it?

"Yes, yes, they have bottomless mimosas downtown. We're going to go once a month. Not the point. Holy shit I can't believe it! Wait, when Cora broke her leg in South America and your mom went to get her was that werewolf shenanigans, or did she really fall down a mountain hiking? Oh my god, I have got to call your mother! Actually, do you think she's still up? We could go visit."

Derek put his hands on Stiles' shoulders. He loved that he was so eager to talk to his mother. It had always warmed his heart how much they loved him and how much he seemed to love them. But right now wasn't the time. "Stiles, we have two bodies we need to deal with. Let's surprise visit my mother tomorrow, yeah?" he couldn't help the fond look in his eyes as he met Stiles'.

"Oh, yeah, totally. What do you think we should do with them?" Stiles' eyes darted between the two dead wolves.

Derek glanced over his shoulder toward the back door. "I actually have a spot already."

"What for bodies?" Stiles snorted, like the notion was an absurd one. Never mind the fact that they had two dead bodies to contend with.

"Well, I had to do something with the one from this morning."

Stiles' smile dropped and his arms flung out before settling on his hips. "What do you mean the one from this morning?!"

"Remember the brother I mentioned?" He nodded toward Andy's body.

"You killed him!?"

Derek's brows rose. The shock on his face was just as much insulting as it was endearing. He stepped forward, sliding his arms through Stiles', and pulled him in so they were chest to chest. He had no idea the lengths Derek would go to to protect him. There was no one more important to him. He met Stiles' eyes. They danced like ice in a glass of whiskey. He smiled, "Isn't it obvious? I'd kill anyone for you."

~~~

(Domestic Bliss)

By @lifebeginsbyleaving

Stiles rolled over with a grumpy sigh. Without opening his eyes to the early morning light he reached over to feel an empty space and frowned. His head lifted topped with violent sleep tousled hair as he squinted trying to find his husband. "Derek?" Stiles yanked his foot back up from the cold wood floors and then slid into Derek's slippers. Stiles might've complained one too many times about how cold the floors were until Derek rolled his eyes and looked in boxes till he found his own slippers. He didn't know if he'd ever get sick of Derek's face with that cute fond look even as he tried to be upset with him.

He yawned gently and looked around the still bare room. There was nothing except their furniture and boxes waiting to be unpacked. In the three days previous they hadn't gotten to the bedroom much yet, but he still smiled when he walked past the box labelled Stiles' PJs. It was filled with all of Derek's old t-shirts and basketball shorts. He had filled the box and labelled it as Derek's, but Derek came over and crossed it out and rewrote it while teasing about how they were no longer his own as Stiles wore them more than he did now. Stiles felt a lightness in his chest as he reflected on how much of a dream moving into their new house had been. They were still in the idyllic honeymoon phase where every night was the best one yet. The happiest day of his life had happened, they went on their honeymoon, and now just a couple months later he was moving into his dream home with a man better than his wildest imagination. His life was perfect. He had his dad, their wonderful home, and Derek.

Stiles reached for his toothbrush right next to Derek's and there was that overwhelming sense of love and happiness again. No matter how much they bickered or even fought, being with Derek was like the moment you figure out that everything will actually be okay in the end. It was that sigh at the end of a hard day and the first smile after being so sad you think you can't breathe. Derek meant safety, love, and home and Stiles finally understood what his parents had. He always appreciated that they were amazing together and that's what made losing her so hard. It was such a privilege to find someone that you didn't have to tolerate living with, someone that instead you had to survive living in the moments without them.

He rinsed his mouth out and spit into the white sink. Looking up at the mirror he tried to tame his hair while calling out again, "What do you want for breakfast?"

His brow furrowed as he received no response. He made his way down the creaky steps with soft padding slippered feet. He called out to the house as he entered the empty kitchen, "Oh husband mine? It's rude to not give me morning snuggles and kisses." Stiles pulled some coffee grounds out of an otherwise barren cabinet. He saw a note on the coffee machine and plucked it off with a quick snatch.

"'Morning sweetheart, went for an early run. Hope you slept well. Coffee should be hot (just like you) See you shortly. -D' Hmm. I'd rather have a sleepy husband, but I will take coffee." Stiles rubbed over the corner of the note where there was a dirty brown finger print on the paper. He must've had to clean up some coffee grounds. Stiles smiled down at his husband's rushed sloppy writing.

He used the last two slices of bread to make toast and decided he'd run to the store quick so they could have a proper lunch. He was getting sick of quick sandwiches, they needed some real food in the house. He could probably get back right after Derek showered and as he was making a protein shake if he hurried.

He grabbed the notes Derek had left on the counter and scrawled a quick note back to him for when he got back from his run.

Stiles balanced a piece of toast on top of his mug of coffee and stuffed the one he was eating in his mouth so he could open his bedroom door to get ready.

*** Stiles always somehow got the cart with the psychotic wheel and it was driving him crazy. He'd already bumped into two other carts because his possessed one took turns like they were an option instead of the only unoccupied path in a crowded aisle. He tried kicking the wheel to no avail and then sighed in defeat. He almost grabbed a box of cocoa pebbles, but instead grabbed Derek's middle aged woman cereal. He urged the wire monster towards the peanut butter while thinking wistfully of his abandoned chocolatey goodness.

He had tried to stick to the list, but he had gotten carried away with all of the things he thought they could fill the pantry with. He had gotten two cans of condensed milk despite not having a recipe for it. It was just something always in the back of the cabinet growing up. Somehow placing them in the basket had made those little flutters in his chest tickle again as if they somehow made their house a home with their uselessness. He had also gotten a couple autumn themed candles. Derek would hate them. Stiles smiled even at the thought of Derek sneering at a sweet vanilla chai kisses candle.

Stiles looked up from his overflowing cart to look directly at Derek. "Derek!" His grin completely took over his face.

"Stiles...hey, what are you doing here?" Derek sounded confused and his whole body froze. Stiles hardly ever spooked Derek or caught him off guard like that, but he supposed it was probably pretty strange for them both to be there.

"Oh you know, I wanted to fill up the house. Get some groceries for my husband, even though he did leave me in an empty bed. There's a monster in our house that eats peanut butter like breathing." Stiles deadpanned.

"A monster in our... oh right," Derek chuckled sheepishly.  "Sorry about that, I just wanted to get an early start. I made sure the coffee was ready though." Derek came around his cart and stood in front of Stiles to give him a quick kiss.

"Yeah thank you, that was really nice honey bun." Stiles shot out finger guns as he called him the overly sweet name.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly and then reached for the candle Stiles knew he would dislike the most. "Really?" He practically sneered at the name before putting it back into the cart.

"Hey say what you want, white girls got nothing on my fall game. I got the healthy cardboard cereal you pretend to enjoy as a compromise." Stiles sent him a saucy wink.

Derek's smile was small, but Stiles knew he loved the little things that showed how much they appreciated each other the most. "You take such good care of me." Derek praised and reached out to brush an appreciative thumb across Stiles' chin.

"I'm great at this marriage thing." Stiles mused. He finally looked away from his handsome husband's face to take in the state of his muddy joggers. "Hey, what are you doing here?" He peered around Derek's wide chest into his cart. "Did you sign us up for a HGTV show I don't know about? A rake and paint? What happened to you by the way? I thought I was the one with godlike grace and agility?" Stiles snarked self deprecatingly.

Derek turned his back to move some of the supplies around to show Stiles. "I was just trying to fix up that old building for you. I know you were excited about it, and the yard could use some tlc."

Stiles moved his cart to gently bump Derek's hip. "Look at you, not so bad at this yourself handsome. I will fight you for the husband of the year title though. I was thinking of making butternut squash soup and salad for lunch, how does that sound?" Stiles looked down at his cart to see if he forgot any ingredients.

"A home cooked meal? You win automatically. I'm headed out actually, so I'll see you at home?" Derek said briskly.

"Okay yeah. Before you head out you need me to get anything for you from the store?" Stiles joked.

"Maybe a less poisonous candle? Or are you gunning for my life insurance already?" Derek smirked before pressing a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Be safe." He added.

"You have unscented ones. And I don't need the money nearly as much as I need someone to make me coffee in the morning." Stiles confessed over his shoulder as he walked away from him.

Derek headed to the counter to check out. "Oh, maybe some of that creamer with the picture of the dog dressed as a pumpkin? You know the one." He called back.

Stiles looked in his cart at the cat curled up in the pumpkin on the creamer bottle already in his cart. Damn did he love his husband.

***

The plastic bag rustled as Stiles pulled out the thyme and garlic. He was somewhat glad Derek was out in the yard raking the leaves still. He adored spending time with his husband, but Derek and him both had verydifferent ideas of what a kitchen should look like while cooking. Derek cleaned dishes as he used them. Stiles was happy if the oven wasn't on fire. He still had grocery bags that needed to be unpacked, all of the soup ingredients were piled near the paper towels, and he had a half chopped onion near the pot he'd need to use for the soup. He arranged the daisies he had picked up for Derek in a green vase with meticulous care. He knew how much Derek liked plants in the house and secretly loved the romantic gesture of receiving flowers. He smiled at the finished bouquet and then returned to the onion while humming "I'll make a man out of you."

Stiles continued unpacking groceries and prepping the vegetables while working his way through the Mulan soundtrack. It drove him crazy while cooking if he had a song stuck in his head.

Stiles brought the squash to his cutting board and pushed aside the bowl . He moved to the sink to wash off the bits of onion skin that clung to his fingertips and looked out the window. He saw Derek frenetically raking leaves. Just the sight of him made Stiles pause while the warm water cascaded down his hands to rapidly circle the drain. He must've felt the eyes on him because he looked up almost immediately and gave him a subtle wave. Stiles' lips pulled into a grin and he waved back.

Stiles turned back to the squash with that warm feeling still inside of him. He placed the wobbly vegetable on its side and attempted to chop it in half. His still damp hands slipped and in a split second the knife sliced through the air and was flung straight towards his bare foot.

Stiles' eyes widened and in a fraction of a moment he flung his hand towards the knife too late to catch it, but with a flash of his eyes the knife halted midair. He quickly gripped it before letting the glow leave his eyes. The same eyes that then frantically searched to see if Derek had somehow appeared in the kitchen to see him or was peering inside the kitchen through the window. After verifying Derek was still in the yard he let out a relieved sigh.

Two years ago Stiles had pictured his future life completely different. He was about to give up on small town life and forget about ever being able to settle down before he met Derek. Having magic was never easy on him. People brought him all sorts of issues to solve like he had all the answers. It made dating and keeping people close really difficult. He never knew what to say to people. 'Oh, sorry I had to leave our date early. Someone I've never met before needed my help killing kelpies that were drowning people!' Some how he thought that wouldn't be the best second date opener. He kept being dragged into mystical hijinks as he was the only druid anywhere near their town. It was almost as if he had a magical beacon on himself saying I'm magical and I will help you.

It all became too much. His dad was the only one close to him that knew who he really was, what he could do. It was tiring always lying to people. Then, one day he had helped a dryad from New York. He was so grateful to Stiles he had invited him to move to the city. Stiles had told him how lonely the small town supernatural life was. How it felt like you were always lying and there was no way out, no one to share it with. He had even tried to stay out of the supernatural world, but it kept dragging him back in. The man then told him how different the city was. There were entire communities he could join and Stiles finally had hope. As loathe as he was to leave his dad, he had decided to go.

The month before he would've left he met Derek. Suddenly it wasn't about what drug him back to the life, it was about what kept him in the one he wanted. So many times he had wanted to tell Derek, wanted to not be lying. He knew it was better this way, he would give up anything for Derek and their perfect life. He wanted to be normal for Derek. He gave up magic and turned away anyone who asked him for help. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to Derek because of him. He had his regular life now, and it was perfect. Derek was perfect. He was gorgeous and dorky, even if sometimes he could be a bit boring with his need to be obsessively domestic. Stiles loved it. He loved his boring normal life. He didn't care what he gave up for it or how much he had to lie about himself.

Stiles hadn't realized how long he'd been lost in thought. He looked down to the now soup filled pot he had made on autopilot. He would have to call Derek in soon now that lunch was ready, but he needed a few moments to collect himself. Derek always knew when he was feeling deeply, but he didn't want to sour the day.

He was about to go out the back door when he heard a knock at the front. Stiles hurried to the door, maybe it was his dad popping in.

It was a man with a charming smile and a smooth voice, "You must be Stiles."

Stiles was caught off guard. "Hi, and who are you? Do you know my husband? Do I know you?"

The man chuckled, "No, not yet. But I'm hoping to be good friends with you."

Stiles heard the back door crash open and slam shut. The harsh sound was on Derek's honey do list to fix.

"You and your husband. Of course. I just wanted to meet the new neighbors." Right on cue as he spoke Stiles heard Derek's heavy shoes clunking towards them.

There was something about this man's eyes Stiles didn't quite trust, but he wanted to be inviting. "Oh, do you live nearby?"

Derek shouldered in front of him pushing open the door even further. "This is private property, what do you want?"

Stiles' jaw was dropped about as wide as the man's shocked eyes. The man stammered out, "Uh, sorry, I was just..." He took a quick step back while his eyes never left Derek. "It was nice meeting you."

Stiles thrust a hand out after him, as he beckoned him back. "Oh don't go! No, I'm sorry. This caveman with no manners is my husband." Stiles shot Derek a withering glare. "Please don't mind him. We'd love your company. I just finished making lunch."

Derek snapped his head to look at Stiles and rudely replied, "I'm sure he can't stay."

The man started to decline, "Oh, no, I-"

Stiles gripped Derek's arm and dug his fingertips in. "I insist!"

The man and Derek stood in some sort of awkward stalemate. Stiles could not believe his husband. Derek was never like this he was so friendly and charming whenever they met new people normally. Sure he'd trash talk them and let him know later if he didn't really like them, but this is the first time Stiles had ever seen him so hostile and rude.

Stiles pointedly said, "Come in. What was your name?" Derek didn't budge till Stiles started to shoo him back into the house.

Stiles had no idea what had gotten into Derek his jaw was clenched, but he backed up.

"Ansel Williams." Ansel looked at them with a strangely intense gaze. "But you can call me Andy. I can see that your husband recognizes the name. It's very unique. It's odd that you don't th-"

Stiles looked at Derek completely lost. It made sense why Derek was acting hostile if he didn't get along with Ansel, but Stiles didn't know why then Ansel was acting like he wanted to be friends. He felt like he was missing something.

He just was about to say maybe they should have lunch some other time wanting to trust his husband when Derek interrupted the man. "My name is Derek, nice to see you again," Derek stuck out his hand which Ansel took hesitantly. "Stiles made soup. I hope you're hungry."

"Famished." The man regained some of his earlier confidence as he followed them into the dining area.

***

Stiles passed around the freshly baked rolls again hoping to cut the tension that had accumulated over the meal. "So what kind of special assets does your company acquire?"

Andy replied with his mouth full, "Well it depends though we really go after the more coveted and unique people."

"Oh, so you're a headhunter?" Stiles said interested, hoping to steer the conversation in a direction that wouldn't have his husband glaring and quiet.

"Something like that." The man smirked and Stiles wondered if he was being modest about what he actually did. "What do you guys do?" Andy asked while gesturing between them holding a half eaten roll.

"Well, I'm an online web designer so I work from home." Stiles looked at a completely silent Derek, who seemed like he was sitting on tacks, before turning back. "And my wonderful husband is a basketball coach at the high school. The kids absolutely love him. He's so good with them. So much better than he is with adults sometimes." Stiles gushed proudly. 

He gave Derek a pointed look and gave his hand a few rough pats hoping to coax him into the conversation. Stiles didn't want their very first introduction to the neighborhood to be so stilted.

"How very domestic." Andy commented.

"It's a very rewarding job." Derek pushed out without an ounce of the pride and happiness Stiles knew his job brought him.

"He's really very good. He took the kids to state last year. Honey you should go show him the photo in the garage and your trophies! I have to go get dessert ready anyway." Stiles stood up to go to the kitchen. Before he left he pressed a kiss to Derek's temple and whispered into his ear, "Be nice and make friends." Stiles dug his fingers into Derek's shoulder firmly to try and convey how rude Derek was being.

He smiled at Andy and said,  "Dessert will be just five minutes."

When he looked back at Derek he wore the same smile he gave Stiles whenever asked to take out the trash. It was begrudging and appeasing, but also he could never help the tiniest bit of adoration from sneaking in there whenever he smiled at Stiles. No matter how snarky.

Stiles pulled the pie he had warmed up out of the oven and placed the ice cream on the counter to thaw a bit.

As Stiles sliced the pie he thought about how rude Derek had been. It was so out of character for him. Sure Derek could be a bit gruff, but that was downright hostile at moments. Stiles was glad Andy hadn't stormed out or that he didn't take offense at any point. Stiles wanted this move to go well. He wanted to be settled and get along with the neighbors. He wanted the dream life for Derek and him. He didn't know how a grumpy Derek would fit in with his image of summer block barbeques and borrowing cups of sugar. Sure Stiles knew neither of them were the overly friendly or social type, but he just wanted them to have the white picket life. Stiles cleaned up the plates where the viscous cherry red pie filling had smeared while he thought deeply.

Maybe Derek didn't want that. Maybe he wanted it to be just the two of them, which Stiles certainly wouldn't object to. He was just so confused because up to this point Derek had been so kind to any friends Stiles introduced to him and meeting new people he always flashed his pearly bunny smile that melted him every time. Stiles licked the pie server clean before tossing it in the sink. He scooped the hard ice cream with great effort while sticking out his tongue in concentration so he didn't fling it across the kitchen.

Stiles wanted to immediately ask how they knew each other, but Derek had acted so coldly he figured it was not a good time. If they had bonded in the garage Stiles would mention it over dessert. The whole thing was so puzzling to Stiles.

The three forks clinked against the plates as he placed them. Just as he was about to bring the plates to the table he heard the garage door opening. That was strange. Stiles made his way to the garage to investigate the noise forgetting the pie for a moment.

He opened the garage door to see Derek standing under the big rolling door. He turned to Stiles and began to close the distance.

Stiles spoke as he moved, "The pie is ready. Where'd Andy go?" Stiles started to lean around Derek to look out the garage door. "You didn't murder him did you?" Stiles joked.

Derek let out a small laugh. "He had to go, wife called."

Derek swiped a thumb across Stiles' lower lip and licked it off. "Mmm, cherry?"

"Yeah. It is." Stiles replied with a question hidden in his tone. Stiles squinted at Derek puzzled, but for the moment willing to let it go.

Derek crowded into Stiles' space close enough he could smell his aftershave and forced him to take a step back as he reached past Stiles to close the garage door. "Shall we?" Derek straightened up and gestured to the door grandly with a sweet as pie smile.

Fuck the neighborhood, as long as he had that smile in his house he didn't care how many people Derek chased off.

***

Stiles let the plates clatter loudly after he scrubbed the water away much harsher than needed. If he kept it up the china nor their kitchen towels would survive their first year. He didn't like how evasive Derek had been while they ate pie. Stiles had always loved how honest they were in their relationship together.

Well, except for the one thing he'd always kept. In marrying Derek he made a lifelong commitment to leaving the supernatural world behind. It burned at something deep inside of him. This space and what seemed like secrets between them, they ignited all of his worry and fear. He left his past behind to find a future with his husband, but why did it seem like Derek was hiding in their present? When he thought about it Derek had been strange all day.

Usually he would wake him up before going for a run to let him know and give him a kiss. Usually, Derek wasn't as cold and rushed as he was when Stiles bumped into him at the store. Usually, he preferred to get into Stiles' way in the kitchen because of how much he loved to see Stiles move around the house. Usually, he asked Stiles to keep him company while they did yard work. Usually, he'd be right next to him putting away lunch or doing the dishes. Usually, Derek didn't make it seem like he had things to hide from Stiles.

Stiles pulled himself out of his pity party as he dried a spoon. His husband loved him. This could just be a misunderstanding or a bad day. He could've just been cranky at Andy for interrupting their lunch. Maybe they had history. The thought of maybe they were already growing apart popped just as fast as it appeared. It was laughable to the point Stiles couldn't even believe it had come from his own admittedly over active brain. They were so madly in love with each other it was frankly disgusting. Was he irritated with Derek? Absolutely. However, they were not the type of relationship to let one bad day ruin even the rest of their week. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles was definitely not the type of husband to let this go though. 

Stiles stormed into the unpacked living room. He stopped right where Derek was kneeling in front of the TV to unpack a ripped box of DVDs. "We're going to talk about how lunch went, and how you know Andy. Also, don't try to make me think it isn't a big deal. You don't normally act like that. And don't you dare try and tell me it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you Derek Hale- Stilinski and that lunch was not you and you shutting me out and not talking to me definitely isn't you...." Stiles drug a breath in desperately while waiting a second for Derek to reply. "Okay I'm done now you can speak." Stiles rested his hands that had been gesturing wildly onto his hips.

Derek sighed like he knew what was coming and put the DVDs on the shelf before facing Stiles. "I had an unpleasant run in with his brother."

Stiles squinted at Derek's genuine face. "How unpleasant? Do I need to go over there with the rest of the pie laced with laxatives, or poison?"

Derek huffed a laugh and then wrapped a coaxing arm around his waist. "No, I was being an ass, I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry. I promise to behave in the future."

Stiles melted into him and sighed in relief. "I like when you misbehave. I don't like when I feel far from you. Next time just slam the door in his face and tell me why we don't like him now." Stiles snuggled into his chest.

"Deal." Derek sweetly kissed the top of his head. "I found the DVDs. Pick one while I shower."

*** Stiles was fighting to keep his eyes awake. No matter how much he loved seeing Bucky Barnes in uniform, the feeling of Derek's warmth radiating into his side where he was gently leaning on him was like no other. If that wasn't enough Derek was slowly dragging his thumb along his knee lulling him deeper. Stiles was so content he could live on this edge between his dreams and the dream forever.

Derek jolted and pulled him out of his fulfilled state. Stiles cocked his head to the side in question.

Derek replied, "We should make popcorn. I think the box with the popcorn maker got put upstairs. I'll grab it. You don't have to pause it." Derek stood and a cool rush of air met his side.

"I was just about to fall asleep, that's perfect. Popcorn will keep me awake. Do you want help?" Stiles offered noncommittally as he tucked himself into the blanket.

"No, I've got it. Keep the couch warm for me." Derek spoke already at the base of the stairs.

Stiles yawned, but he sat up to try and stay awake. He absentmindedly checked his phone for a couple moments before he heard the front door jingle.

That was odd. He hadn't heard Derek come down, nor did he know why he'd need to go outside. Stiles pulled the blanket off himself and stood up with a curious gaze towards the dark hallway. As he moved closer he slowly adjusted to the light and right as he wound around the corner a shape suddenly moved towards him out of the darkness. Stiles stumbled backwards in shock back into the living room. As the shape followed him the light spilled from the TV and lamp to illuminate his face and Stiles stopped in the middle of the room out of confusion.

"Andy?" Stiles asked.

"Stiles, hey sorry it's so late. I wa-" Andy wore a charming smile that Stiles didn't fall for one bit this time.

"The front door was locked. Why are you in my home?" Stiles demanded. He hoped Derek stayed upstairs long enough for him to deal with this. Whatever this was. Stiles crossed his arms and continued on, "Is this about your brother? If so, I doubt an argument is worth breaking into the sheriff's sons' home."

Andy took small leisurely steps closer. "This has nothing to do with Ansel. He was just an unfortunate loss along the way thanks to your dear husband."

Stiles tried to figure out what that meant while looking around the room for weapons. His options were limited to whipping DVDs at him like a knock off Gambit or running to the kitchen for knives. "What do you want with my husband?"

Andy laughed. "We don't want him. He is just in our way. You're quite special Stiles."

Stiles had heard enough. He looked to where the door was left ajar like Andy planned on it getting used again soon. Almost as if someone else would be coming in soon. He didn't know what was going on he just knew he had to deal with this fast especially if there were more coming.

"We just want to talk. We just want you to come with u-"

Stiles cut him off with a sudden uppercut and then immediately dashed for the kitchen. The punch hadn't had quite the effect he hoped because Andy was hot on his heels enraged. Stiles heard his steps too close. He wouldn't make it to the knife block.

Stiles went full speed into the stack of boxes on the other side of the kitchen and kicked out a leg behind himself blindly hoping to keep just enough distance between them. Thankfully he found what he was looking for as Andy gripped his calf tightly trying to wrench it to the side so he could grab Stiles. Stiles spun around and violently smashed the heavy wok into the side of Andy's skull. He used the second of dazed confusion to push against Andy's chest.

Stiles' eyes widened as Andy grew claws and fangs in front of him. The man before him growled as his eyes flashed blue.

"Oh fuck." Stiles swore.

"We just need you to come with us you little bastard. If you come easy we won't hurt your husband, but you're coming either way."

Stiles saw red at that threat, but he pushed it down. There was that "we" again. Stiles felt his stomach drop as he realized his mistake. The door was open so Andy could take him back through it, but if someone was going to follow they would've already. They didn't need to come in through the door because they were already inside.

It didn't take that long to get a popcorn maker.

With that realization Stiles heard a crash of glass shattering upstairs.

Stiles felt everything at once rage, despair, hopelessness, and finally determination. He held up his palms as they flashed with a blinding painful light. It was as if he had lit up their kitchen with a flash bang that could harness the sun itself.

As Andy groaned in pain and clutched at his face disoriented, Stiles pushed past him to sprint upstairs.

He must've been too loud because despite being temporarily blinded, Andy was able to grab onto his torso and sink his claws in before he had even made it through the living room. Stiles shouted in pain from the digits that dug deep into his flesh.

He needed to get to Derek. Andy was in his way.

Stiles gripped both of the werewolf's wrists and attempted something he knew would drop him instantly. Lightning crackled around Stiles' white knuckles that were now covered in his own blood from where they gripped Andy's splattered arms. Stiles could feel the man shaking behind him, but if anything it just drove his claws in deeper. Werewolves had a high tolerance for electrocution. However, it did make them susceptible to other forms of magic. Stiles' eyes started to glow pure white as all of the moisture from the man started to pull out of his eyes, his ears, and finally his mouth. First it was just little trickling strands and then pouring streams that mixed with the electricity as the moisture started to explode out of his skin like a wrung out sponge.

With a heavy thunk the dried out crisp husk of a man fell to the floor.

Stiles started towards the stairs again, but for the second time in less than a minute was dumbstruck with the fangs and claws in front of him. "You're a werewolf!?" Stiles shouted the question at his newlywed husband with wide eyes as he nearly ran into him.

Derek looked relieved, well as much as Stiles could tell through the sideburns his husband never had before.

The floor where Derek had just dropped down groaned in protest as another heavy snarling body thumped down right behind him.

Stiles saw the man's red eyes trained on his husband and reacted instinctively as Derek whipped around to face the threat.

Stiles' hand raised to their cherished house plant sitting on the table up against the stairs while a vibrant green glow emanated from his fingertips and eyes. The pothos had been with them since their first apartment. Lydia gave it to them as a housewarming present. Derek would be upset with how much care he had put into keeping it alive, but he couldn't think about that right now.

The thin vines whipped out and grew in both number and size. In the blink of an eye they wrapped around the alpha's arms and legs just as he was about to swipe his claws at Derek. The green ropes held him taut as even more sprouted thorns and wound around his neck. The alpha began to scream as the thorned vines pushed into his eyes and ears causing blood to gush out. His scream was choked off as vines burst out of his mouth. He fell lifeless to his knees and then finally slumped to the ground as the vines atrophied and turned brown.

Stiles breathed in and out to calm himself from the carnage that had happened in their previously peaceful house in but a few moments.

He lowered his hand slowly and the glow left his eyes, eyes that now met Derek's after they left the now non-existent threat.

He took in his husband's shocked face and didn't even know how to start the conversation, hell the multiple conversations, they now had to have. Like what was he supposed to say, 'Hey honey, why yes I've always been able to do this. Dear, how long have you been a werewolf? Love of my life, would you like to burn the bodies or should I start to look up pig farms?' Stiles felt a pit well in his stomach, for once he did not want to talk to his husband. He didn't want to ruin what they had. Maybe he could wipe Derek's memory. He was spiraling he knew, but he couldn't give up their perfect life. He never wanted to bring Derek into the supernatural life, but here they were.

"You have magic?!" Derek exclaimed.

Derek's eyes fell to Stiles' blood soaked torso. "You're hurt." Derek slowly reached out then paused, almost like he was expecting Stiles to lash out with a dandelion from the yard.

Stiles looked down at his stomach almost noticing the wounds finally through the shock of what had all happened. "I'll be fine really." Stiles looked at Derek's paused hand on his way to reach out. "It's actually helpful that you're a werewolf." Stiles chuckled weakly. "Can I touch you?" Stiles sounded so very unsure about it even he was surprised that he was talking to his husband. The one person that never made Stiles feel unsure.

Derek let out a desperate whispered,  "Please."

Stiles' eyes started to water at the tender feelings and warring worries welling inside of him. He wouldn't have known what to do if Derek turned him away. He smiled as he reached out to grab Derek's arm. "This shouldn't hurt at all, I'm just borrowing your ability to heal." Stiles hesitantly gripped Derek's forearms and focused. Golden glowing veins spidered from Derek's arms to Stiles' waiting palms. His wounds gently glowed the same golden color as they closed.

"Take what you need." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Derek's head swiveling back and forth.

After his flesh had finished fusing back together Stiles released his arm somewhat regretfully, he liked the contact.

"Who hurt you?" Derek spoke with purpose as he pushed past Stiles toward the living room.

Stiles felt his body flush with panic again. He rushed past Derek and pulled the blanket from the couch with a gust of magic to quickly cover the Kentucky fried crispy man, but he was too late.

Derek was stock still looking at the blanket.  "You did this?" He asked quietly.

A million explanations and excuses flooded through Stiles, but nothing more powerful than the shame. Would Derek think of him differently? He hadn't just killed this man, he had given him an agonizing death. Stiles didn't think about the consequences, he didn't think about the man's pain, and he certainly didn't think about mercy. All he thought about was the fastest way to get to Derek no matter how brutal.

"I-I um, yeah. He came up behind me and I- I just reacted." Stiles' voice was small and he started chewing his lip. Maybe he could wipe his memory of the last half hour. No popcorn, they just finished the movie.  "I had to get to you." Stiles didn't like how pleading his voice sounded to his own ears and he definitely didn't know what he was asking of Derek. Please don't look at the body. Please don't be freaked out by how much I love you. Please don't be concerned with the lengths I'd go to for you. Please. Please just don't think I'm a monster.

And if he was really honest and let the most pitiful of them all have a voice, please don't love me any less for the dark things I'd do just to keep you safe.

"Oh." Derek sounded absent minded in a way he had hardly ever heard him.

His eyes were still on the blanket covered body.

"Wow." Derek spoke pushing out each letter of such a simple word in a way that made Stiles taste bile on his tongue. There were many ways in which Stiles wanted to amaze his husband, this was not one of them.

Stiles took several steps back towards the door creating space between them in case Derek didn't know how to tell him he didn't want him near anymore. "I'm sorry." Stiles held his arms against his torso knowing the warmth he'd leeched while holding onto Derek was still on his palms, and yet he felt only a chill up his spine.

Derek finally snapped back to the moment and turned to face him. "No, don't apologize. I just... all day I've been trying to keep you safe but... you never needed me." Derek sounded impressed.

The tears finally fell from Stiles' eyes. "I always need you." He confessed.

Derek stalked over and pulled him into a hug. Stiles buried himself into Derek's chest and let out a breath of relief.

"I think we have a lot to talk about." Derek said.

"Just give me a moment. I just need to hold you to know you're okay. I thought-" Stiles' words caught in his throat. "I thought they'd kill you because of me." Stiles still felt the guilt pulsing inside, but the waves lessened as he felt the warm body against him.

Derek gently carded his hands through his husband's hair to soothe him.  "Who were they?"

Stiles shrugged while wrapped in Derek's arms. "I don't know. From what Andy said it seemed like they wanted me for my magic."

"How long have you..." Derek unwrapped their limbs to look into Stiles' eyes.

"Been a glowy magical young hot Gandalf? Technically since birth, but I didn't get any of the cool magic till after my mom died."

"So the whole time" Derek nodded with a huffed laugh.

"How long have you been... Craving Scooby snacks?" He cursed internally hoping this wasn't a sore subject for Derek.

Stiles loved the soft affection that leaked out of Derek whenever he tried to roll his eyes at his snark. Derek replied, "Also since birth."

"So the whole time." Stiles laughed. "Damn I missed an opportunity to give you a squeaky toy as a wedding gift. So you're an alpha? Where's your pack?" Stiles asked.

Derek gently pinched Stiles' chin and looked lovingly into his eyes. "Right here."

Stiles looked at Derek's fond smile ready to kiss it when he noticed a smear of blood just to the left of his mouth. He swiped it with a thumb. "I doubt this would taste like cherry." He wiped it off on his ruined shirt.

Derek's lips fully upturned into a grin before he crashed their lips together. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

Stiles pulled his head back to speak to him. "But no really, where's your pack? You can't be an alpha with just one puny human that didn't even know you were a werewolf." 

"My alpha status wasn't planned. Wrong place, wrong time. I never wanted this." Derek gestured to the crispy dead body with an air of begrudging acceptance.

"How long have you been an alpha?" Stiles' tone turned mocking, "Since birth?"

Derek laughed. "Five or so years. I haven't really kept up with it. I never took a pack."

Stiles felt his stomach drop. There had been alphas that went insane without a pack in a matter of months. While Stiles would never experience it the thought made him shudder. To be so very alone only wanting someone to connect you to your life and your purpose had to have been torture. Actually, now that he thought about it maybe their experiences weren't all that different. Having power was nothing without someone to protect. Stiles rested his hand on Derek's chest above his heart. "Derek that's- that's awful. Being an alpha without a pack is a terrible way to live. You have nothing to draw from, nothing to hold you down. It would be like if I didn't have my magic. Pack is a part of being a werewolf as much as magic is a part of who I am."

Derek sighed, "Becoming an alpha was... the worst thing that could've happened to me. It took me from my family. They were my pack. I never wanted another one. But a pack can't have two alphas. It disrupts the balance." Derek spoke with such sadness.

"Then I met you. And I knew I'd never need anyone else." Derek had that look, the one that told Stiles he was genuinely happy and it made his heart flutter at the sweet words.

"You're all I need too, but Derek I don't want you to deny a part of who you are to be with me." Stiles hated that for the entire time he knew him, Derek had to hide from him. He didn't want that to be the future.

"What about you? Where's your coven?" A teasing smirk lit up Derek's face. "Am I gonna find a broomstick in one of these boxes?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open in a baldly offended look. "Do you think I'm a witch?!" Stiles pulled back from their embrace mildly upset. Druids and witches were very different things.

"Well, I don't know what you are." Derek once again gestured to Mr. McCrispy. "You're something."

Stiles had already decided to forgive him and only hold it against him occasionally. "If you ever call me a witch again I'm buying you a doghouse for out back. I'm a druid."

Derek’s expression dropped as he pulled from Stiles taking a stumbled step back. "Do-do you have an alpha?" Derek asked fear and horror blatant in his voice.

"Why would I? I already have one lug trying to tell me what to do." Stiles joked confused.

"You're an emissary though." Derek intently stared into his eyes and at his face like he was expecting a lie.

Stiles squinted at him. He had no idea what confused Derek so much. "I'm a druid... I didn't specifically say I was an emissary. Derek do you think all druids are emissaries? Because that's racist. I'm offended." This time his offended face was an act.

"All the druids I've ever met are emissaries. Only alphas really deal with them. Why aren't you an emissary?" Derek asked.

"Because it's rare for a druid not born into or raised alongside a pack to become an emissary. To be an emissary is to be trusted with the pack's lives at the highest level, most of the time equal to an alpha. It's a huge responsibility, but an even bigger trust is needed. My mom left her pack back in Poland when she came here. I know it was something that she missed and always wanted for me, but I knew it would be too difficult to find." Stiles got a bit sad anytime his mother was mentioned, but nothing made that hollow spot in his heart echo like remembering her last days when she barely remembered their names. If he was honest a bit of that echo was his magic calling out to him.

"I hope I didn't keep you from finding that. You're incredibly strong. You'd make an amazing emissary." Derek looked guilty.

"I gave all of that up when I met you. I had an opportunity out in New York. I almost left with a friend I had helped out. He's a dryad and they had just lost their druid emissary. I realized what I had with you made me happier than that ever would. Sometimes I do miss it, magic will always be a part of me-" Stiles looks down as little blue wisps whirled around his waving fingers. "But Derek, don't think for one second that I'm missing out on what's meant for me." Stiles looked at his husband and he knew every word he spoke was absolutely honest. The love he felt for Derek was like nothing else in the world to him.

"That's why he wanted you." Derek looked at the dead alpha in the hall. "You know, if you- if you wanted to be an emissary..." Derek threaded their fingers together and little blue strings began to swirl around both of their fingers.

Derek seemed nervous and it made Stiles wonder if it was from what he said or the magic still moving between them. He wondered if the chill was getting to Derek's bones yet, a normal human would've had to let go by now.

Stiles let the magic go once again and laughed. "Oh man, two seconds ago you thought all druids were emissaries. Absolutely not." Stiles squeezed his fingers hoping their warmth had returned. To his pleasure his husband's hands were as warm as they always were. How he had never realized Derek's ability to instantly warm a cold bed was supernatural Stiles would never know. "I won't say yes to that until you fully know what it means. If you get sick of me you can't just divorce an emissary. Parting from an emissary is like ripping half of your soul away."

Stiles felt that fading echo in his chest again. This time instead of thinking of the end he thought about the beginning, when the pain was loudest.

He thought about how he had gripped his bed sheets when his parents sat him down to tell him his mom was sick. Then he thought about a little bit later when she told him what he was, what they were. Memories started to resonate inside of his head. How scared she had looked when talking about her pack. How he had always wondered what they had done, done to her, and worst of all forced her to do to make her so very scared. He remembered their happy days and their sad days. He remembered overhearing her telling his dad she felt like they were being ripped from him, that her very soul was torn in two. He would never do that to Derek. He could never. She had fought off her own magic rebelling against leaving the pack as long as she could, but eventually it killed every part of her life in her that she loved. She had left her pack even though she knew what it would mean.

Just the thought of Derek leaving him and then losing himself because of it churned his stomach. He willed away the echo and banished the pain. He would always keep the memories though.

"I'd never get sick of you. Parting from you would already be like having half of my soul ripped away." Derek confessed.

"Well it's good you're stuck with me then." Stiles let go of Derek's right hand to thread their left hands together to kiss their wedding rings. "We can work towards it, but I have a feeling your emissary didn't tell you as much as they told your alp- Oh my god Derek! Oh my god!" Stiles spastically slapped Derek's chest. "Your mom is an alpha isn't she?!"

Derek looked startled. "Yes?"

"Oh my god! At Christmas? At Christmas they were all wolves?! How did I not know? This is insane! Your mom makes such a good green bean casserole and she's an alpha!"

Derek laughed. "You'll have lots to talk about next year."

"Next year? I'm getting brunch with her next week. I'm not waiting for Christmas. This is huge!"

"You're having brunch with my mom?" Derek looked offended at not being invited.

"Yes yes, they have bottomless mimosas downtown, we're going to go once a month. Not the point. Holy shit, I can't believe it! Wait, when Cora broke her leg in South America and your mom went to get her, was that werewolf shenanigans or did she really fall down a mountain hiking? Oh my god, I have got to call your mother! Actually, do you think she's still up? We could go visit."

Derek put his hands on his shoulders to ground him. "Stiles, we have two bodies we need to deal with. Let's surprise visit my mother tomorrow, yeah?" Derek spoke with a fond look.

"Oh yeah, totally. What do you think we should do with them?" Stiles looked between the bodies.

Derek looked over his shoulder towards the backdoor. "I actually have a spot already."

"What for bodies?"  Stiles snorted.

"Well, I had to do something with the one from this morning." Derek replied seriously.

Stiles smile dropped and he flung out his arms only to rest them on his hips."What do you mean the one from this morning?!" Stiles couldn't believe this.

"Remember the brother I mentioned?" Derek nodded to Andy's body.

"You killed him?!" Stiles was replaying the day and all the moments he thought his husband had acted strange. Suddenly, Derek hadn't acted strange enough with that new context.

Derek slid his arms through Stiles' while he pulled him in. "Isn't it obvious? I'd kill anyone for you."

His heart shouldn't have melted at that. Stiles was blown away with the love he felt for his husband and how their relationship changed so much and yet not at all over the course of one day. They were going to be okay. They were still going to fall asleep in each other's arms. They were still going to watch movies on the couch. They were still going to always figure things out together. They would now hide bodies together. They would now talk about the supernatural. They would now have very different Christmases. They were still going to be okay, even if they would need to start buying a suspicious amount of bleach.

His brow furrowed as he received no response. He made his way down the creaky steps with soft padding slippered feet. He called out to the house as he entered the empty kitchen, "Oh husband mine? It's rude to not give me morning snuggles and kisses." Stiles pulled some coffee grounds out of an otherwise barren cabinet. He saw a note on the coffee machine and plucked it off with a quick snatch.

"'Morning sweetheart, went for an early run. Hope you slept well. Coffee should be hot (just like you) See you shortly. -D' Hmm. I'd rather have a sleepy husband, but I will take coffee." Stiles rubbed over the corner of the note where there was a dirty brown finger print on the paper. He must've had to clean up some coffee grounds. Stiles smiled down at his husband's rushed sloppy writing.

He used the last two slices of bread to make toast and decided he'd run to the store quick so they could have a proper lunch. He was getting sick of quick sandwiches, they needed some real food in the house. He could probably get back right after Derek showered and as he was making a protein shake if he hurried.

He grabbed the notes Derek had left on the counter and scrawled a quick note back to him for when he got back from his run.

Stiles balanced a piece of toast on top of his mug of coffee and stuffed the one he was eating in his mouth so he could open his bedroom door to get ready.

*** Stiles always somehow got the cart with the psychotic wheel and it was driving him crazy. He'd already bumped into two other carts because his possessed one took turns like they were an option instead of the only unoccupied path in a crowded aisle. He tried kicking the wheel to no avail and then sighed in defeat. He almost grabbed a box of cocoa pebbles, but instead grabbed Derek's middle aged woman cereal. He urged the wire monster towards the peanut butter while thinking wistfully of his abandoned chocolatey goodness.

He had tried to stick to the list, but he had gotten carried away with all of the things he thought they could fill the pantry with. He had gotten two cans of condensed milk despite not having a recipe for it. It was just something always in the back of the cabinet growing up. Somehow placing them in the basket had made those little flutters in his chest tickle again as if they somehow made their house a home with their uselessness. He had also gotten a couple autumn themed candles. Derek would hate them. Stiles smiled even at the thought of Derek sneering at a sweet vanilla chai kisses candle.

Stiles looked up from his overflowing cart to look directly at Derek. "Derek!" His grin completely took over his face.

"Stiles...hey, what are you doing here?" Derek sounded confused and his whole body froze. Stiles hardly ever spooked Derek or caught him off guard like that, but he supposed it was probably pretty strange for them both to be there.

"Oh you know, I wanted to fill up the house. Get some groceries for my husband, even though he did leave me in an empty bed. There's a monster in our house that eats peanut butter like breathing." Stiles deadpanned.

"A monster in our... oh right," Derek chuckled sheepishly.  "Sorry about that, I just wanted to get an early start. I made sure the coffee was ready though." Derek came around his cart and stood in front of Stiles to give him a quick kiss.

"Yeah thank you, that was really nice honey bun." Stiles shot out finger guns as he called him the overly sweet name.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly and then reached for the candle Stiles knew he would dislike the most. "Really?" He practically sneered at the name before putting it back into the cart.

"Hey say what you want, white girls got nothing on my fall game. I got the healthy cardboard cereal you pretend to enjoy as a compromise." Stiles sent him a saucy wink.

Derek's smile was small, but Stiles knew he loved the little things that showed how much they appreciated each other the most. "You take such good care of me." Derek praised and reached out to brush an appreciative thumb across Stiles' chin.

"I'm great at this marriage thing." Stiles mused. He finally looked away from his handsome husband's face to take in the state of his muddy joggers. "Hey, what are you doing here?" He peered around Derek's wide chest into his cart. "Did you sign us up for a HGTV show I don't know about? A rake and paint? What happened to you by the way? I thought I was the one with godlike grace and agility?" Stiles snarked self deprecatingly.

Derek turned his back to move some of the supplies around to show Stiles. "I was just trying to fix up that old building for you. I know you were excited about it, and the yard could use some tlc."

Stiles moved his cart to gently bump Derek's hip. "Look at you, not so bad at this yourself handsome. I will fight you for the husband of the year title though. I was thinking of making butternut squash soup and salad for lunch, how does that sound?" Stiles looked down at his cart to see if he forgot any ingredients.

"A home cooked meal? You win automatically. I'm headed out actually, so I'll see you at home?" Derek said briskly.

"Okay yeah. Before you head out you need me to get anything for you from the store?" Stiles joked.

"Maybe a less poisonous candle? Or are you gunning for my life insurance already?" Derek smirked before pressing a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Be safe." He added.

"You have unscented ones. And I don't need the money nearly as much as I need someone to make me coffee in the morning." Stiles confessed over his shoulder as he walked away from him.

Derek headed to the counter to check out. "Oh, maybe some of that creamer with the picture of the dog dressed as a pumpkin? You know the one." He called back.

Stiles looked in his cart at the cat curled up in the pumpkin on the creamer bottle already in his cart. Damn did he love his husband.

***

The plastic bag rustled as Stiles pulled out the thyme and garlic. He was somewhat glad Derek was out in the yard raking the leaves still. He adored spending time with his husband, but Derek and him both had verydifferent ideas of what a kitchen should look like while cooking. Derek cleaned dishes as he used them. Stiles was happy if the oven wasn't on fire. He still had grocery bags that needed to be unpacked, all of the soup ingredients were piled near the paper towels, and he had a half chopped onion near the pot he'd need to use for the soup. He arranged the daisies he had picked up for Derek in a green vase with meticulous care. He knew how much Derek liked plants in the house and secretly loved the romantic gesture of receiving flowers. He smiled at the finished bouquet and then returned to the onion while humming "I'll make a man out of you."

Stiles continued unpacking groceries and prepping the vegetables while working his way through the Mulan soundtrack. It drove him crazy while cooking if he had a song stuck in his head.

Stiles brought the squash to his cutting board and pushed aside the bowl . He moved to the sink to wash off the bits of onion skin that clung to his fingertips and looked out the window. He saw Derek frenetically raking leaves. Just the sight of him made Stiles pause while the warm water cascaded down his hands to rapidly circle the drain. He must've felt the eyes on him because he looked up almost immediately and gave him a subtle wave. Stiles' lips pulled into a grin and he waved back.

Stiles turned back to the squash with that warm feeling still inside of him. He placed the wobbly vegetable on its side and attempted to chop it in half. His still damp hands slipped and in a split second the knife sliced through the air and was flung straight towards his bare foot.

Stiles' eyes widened and in a fraction of a moment he flung his hand towards the knife too late to catch it, but with a flash of his eyes the knife halted midair. He quickly gripped it before letting the glow leave his eyes. The same eyes that then frantically searched to see if Derek had somehow appeared in the kitchen to see him or was peering inside the kitchen through the window. After verifying Derek was still in the yard he let out a relieved sigh.

Two years ago Stiles had pictured his future life completely different. He was about to give up on small town life and forget about ever being able to settle down before he met Derek. Having magic was never easy on him. People brought him all sorts of issues to solve like he had all the answers. It made dating and keeping people close really difficult. He never knew what to say to people. 'Oh, sorry I had to leave our date early. Someone I've never met before needed my help killing kelpies that were drowning people!' Some how he thought that wouldn't be the best second date opener. He kept being dragged into mystical hijinks as he was the only druid anywhere near their town. It was almost as if he had a magical beacon on himself saying I'm magical and I will help you.

It all became too much. His dad was the only one close to him that knew who he really was, what he could do. It was tiring always lying to people. Then, one day he had helped a dryad from New York. He was so grateful to Stiles he had invited him to move to the city. Stiles had told him how lonely the small town supernatural life was. How it felt like you were always lying and there was no way out, no one to share it with. He had even tried to stay out of the supernatural world, but it kept dragging him back in. The man then told him how different the city was. There were entire communities he could join and Stiles finally had hope. As loathe as he was to leave his dad, he had decided to go.

The month before he would've left he met Derek. Suddenly it wasn't about what drug him back to the life, it was about what kept him in the one he wanted. So many times he had wanted to tell Derek, wanted to not be lying. He knew it was better this way, he would give up anything for Derek and their perfect life. He wanted to be normal for Derek. He gave up magic and turned away anyone who asked him for help. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to Derek because of him. He had his regular life now, and it was perfect. Derek was perfect. He was gorgeous and dorky, even if sometimes he could be a bit boring with his need to be obsessively domestic. Stiles loved it. He loved his boring normal life. He didn't care what he gave up for it or how much he had to lie about himself.

Stiles hadn't realized how long he'd been lost in thought. He looked down to the now soup filled pot he had made on autopilot. He would have to call Derek in soon now that lunch was ready, but he needed a few moments to collect himself. Derek always knew when he was feeling deeply, but he didn't want to sour the day.

He was about to go out the back door when he heard a knock at the front. Stiles hurried to the door, maybe it was his dad popping in.

It was a man with a charming smile and a smooth voice, "You must be Stiles."

Stiles was caught off guard. "Hi, and who are you? Do you know my husband? Do I know you?"

The man chuckled, "No, not yet. But I'm hoping to be good friends with you."

Stiles heard the back door crash open and slam shut. The harsh sound was on Derek's honey do list to fix.

"You and your husband. Of course. I just wanted to meet the new neighbors." Right on cue as he spoke Stiles heard Derek's heavy shoes clunking towards them.

There was something about this man's eyes Stiles didn't quite trust, but he wanted to be inviting. "Oh, do you live nearby?"

Derek shouldered in front of him pushing open the door even further. "This is private property, what do you want?"

Stiles' jaw was dropped about as wide as the man's shocked eyes. The man stammered out, "Uh, sorry, I was just..." He took a quick step back while his eyes never left Derek. "It was nice meeting you."

Stiles thrust a hand out after him, as he beckoned him back. "Oh don't go! No, I'm sorry. This caveman with no manners is my husband." Stiles shot Derek a withering glare. "Please don't mind him. We'd love your company. I just finished making lunch."

Derek snapped his head to look at Stiles and rudely replied, "I'm sure he can't stay."

The man started to decline, "Oh, no, I-"

Stiles gripped Derek's arm and dug his fingertips in. "I insist!"

The man and Derek stood in some sort of awkward stalemate. Stiles could not believe his husband. Derek was never like this he was so friendly and charming whenever they met new people normally. Sure he'd trash talk them and let him know later if he didn't really like them, but this is the first time Stiles had ever seen him so hostile and rude.

Stiles pointedly said, "Come in. What was your name?" Derek didn't budge till Stiles started to shoo him back into the house.

Stiles had no idea what had gotten into Derek his jaw was clenched, but he backed up.

"Ansel Williams." Ansel looked at them with a strangely intense gaze. "But you can call me Andy. I can see that your husband recognizes the name. It's very unique. It's odd that you don't th-"

Stiles looked at Derek completely lost. It made sense why Derek was acting hostile if he didn't get along with Ansel, but Stiles didn't know why then Ansel was acting like he wanted to be friends. He felt like he was missing something.

He just was about to say maybe they should have lunch some other time wanting to trust his husband when Derek interrupted the man. "My name is Derek, nice to see you again," Derek stuck out his hand which Ansel took hesitantly. "Stiles made soup. I hope you're hungry."

"Famished." The man regained some of his earlier confidence as he followed them into the dining area.

***

Stiles passed around the freshly baked rolls again hoping to cut the tension that had accumulated over the meal. "So what kind of special assets does your company acquire?"

Andy replied with his mouth full, "Well it depends though we really go after the more coveted and unique people."

"Oh, so you're a headhunter?" Stiles said interested, hoping to steer the conversation in a direction that wouldn't have his husband glaring and quiet.

"Something like that." The man smirked and Stiles wondered if he was being modest about what he actually did. "What do you guys do?" Andy asked while gesturing between them holding a half eaten roll.

"Well, I'm an online web designer so I work from home." Stiles looked at a completely silent Derek, who seemed like he was sitting on tacks, before turning back. "And my wonderful husband is a basketball coach at the high school. The kids absolutely love him. He's so good with them. So much better than he is with adults sometimes." Stiles gushed proudly. 

He gave Derek a pointed look and gave his hand a few rough pats hoping to coax him into the conversation. Stiles didn't want their very first introduction to the neighborhood to be so stilted.

"How very domestic." Andy commented.

"It's a very rewarding job." Derek pushed out without an ounce of the pride and happiness Stiles knew his job brought him.

"He's really very good. He took the kids to state last year. Honey you should go show him the photo in the garage and your trophies! I have to go get dessert ready anyway." Stiles stood up to go to the kitchen. Before he left he pressed a kiss to Derek's temple and whispered into his ear, "Be nice and make friends." Stiles dug his fingers into Derek's shoulder firmly to try and convey how rude Derek was being.

He smiled at Andy and said,  "Dessert will be just five minutes."

When he looked back at Derek he wore the same smile he gave Stiles whenever asked to take out the trash. It was begrudging and appeasing, but also he could never help the tiniest bit of adoration from sneaking in there whenever he smiled at Stiles. No matter how snarky.

Stiles pulled the pie he had warmed up out of the oven and placed the ice cream on the counter to thaw a bit.

As Stiles sliced the pie he thought about how rude Derek had been. It was so out of character for him. Sure Derek could be a bit gruff, but that was downright hostile at moments. Stiles was glad Andy hadn't stormed out or that he didn't take offense at any point. Stiles wanted this move to go well. He wanted to be settled and get along with the neighbors. He wanted the dream life for Derek and him. He didn't know how a grumpy Derek would fit in with his image of summer block barbeques and borrowing cups of sugar. Sure Stiles knew neither of them were the overly friendly or social type, but he just wanted them to have the white picket life. Stiles cleaned up the plates where the viscous cherry red pie filling had smeared while he thought deeply.

Maybe Derek didn't want that. Maybe he wanted it to be just the two of them, which Stiles certainly wouldn't object to. He was just so confused because up to this point Derek had been so kind to any friends Stiles introduced to him and meeting new people he always flashed his pearly bunny smile that melted him every time. Stiles licked the pie server clean before tossing it in the sink. He scooped the hard ice cream with great effort while sticking out his tongue in concentration so he didn't fling it across the kitchen.

Stiles wanted to immediately ask how they knew each other, but Derek had acted so coldly he figured it was not a good time. If they had bonded in the garage Stiles would mention it over dessert. The whole thing was so puzzling to Stiles.

The three forks clinked against the plates as he placed them. Just as he was about to bring the plates to the table he heard the garage door opening. That was strange. Stiles made his way to the garage to investigate the noise forgetting the pie for a moment.

He opened the garage door to see Derek standing under the big rolling door. He turned to Stiles and began to close the distance.

Stiles spoke as he moved, "The pie is ready. Where'd Andy go?" Stiles started to lean around Derek to look out the garage door. "You didn't murder him did you?" Stiles joked.

Derek let out a small laugh. "He had to go, wife called."

Derek swiped a thumb across Stiles' lower lip and licked it off. "Mmm, cherry?"

"Yeah. It is." Stiles replied with a question hidden in his tone. Stiles squinted at Derek puzzled, but for the moment willing to let it go.

Derek crowded into Stiles' space close enough he could smell his aftershave and forced him to take a step back as he reached past Stiles to close the garage door. "Shall we?" Derek straightened up and gestured to the door grandly with a sweet as pie smile.

Fuck the neighborhood, as long as he had that smile in his house he didn't care how many people Derek chased off.

***

Stiles let the plates clatter loudly after he scrubbed the water away much harsher than needed. If he kept it up the china nor their kitchen towels would survive their first year. He didn't like how evasive Derek had been while they ate pie. Stiles had always loved how honest they were in their relationship together.

Well, except for the one thing he'd always kept. In marrying Derek he made a lifelong commitment to leaving the supernatural world behind. It burned at something deep inside of him. This space and what seemed like secrets between them, they ignited all of his worry and fear. He left his past behind to find a future with his husband, but why did it seem like Derek was hiding in their present? When he thought about it Derek had been strange all day.

Usually he would wake him up before going for a run to let him know and give him a kiss. Usually, Derek wasn't as cold and rushed as he was when Stiles bumped into him at the store. Usually, he preferred to get into Stiles' way in the kitchen because of how much he loved to see Stiles move around the house. Usually, he asked Stiles to keep him company while they did yard work. Usually, he'd be right next to him putting away lunch or doing the dishes. Usually, Derek didn't make it seem like he had things to hide from Stiles.

Stiles pulled himself out of his pity party as he dried a spoon. His husband loved him. This could just be a misunderstanding or a bad day. He could've just been cranky at Andy for interrupting their lunch. Maybe they had history. The thought of maybe they were already growing apart popped just as fast as it appeared. It was laughable to the point Stiles couldn't even believe it had come from his own admittedly over active brain. They were so madly in love with each other it was frankly disgusting. Was he irritated with Derek? Absolutely. However, they were not the type of relationship to let one bad day ruin even the rest of their week. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles was definitely not the type of husband to let this go though. 

Stiles stormed into the unpacked living room. He stopped right where Derek was kneeling in front of the TV to unpack a ripped box of DVDs. "We're going to talk about how lunch went, and how you know Andy. Also, don't try to make me think it isn't a big deal. You don't normally act like that. And don't you dare try and tell me it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you Derek Hale- Stilinski and that lunch was not you and you shutting me out and not talking to me definitely isn't you...." Stiles drug a breath in desperately while waiting a second for Derek to reply. "Okay I'm done now you can speak." Stiles rested his hands that had been gesturing wildly onto his hips.

Derek sighed like he knew what was coming and put the DVDs on the shelf before facing Stiles. "I had an unpleasant run in with his brother."

Stiles squinted at Derek's genuine face. "How unpleasant? Do I need to go over there with the rest of the pie laced with laxatives, or poison?"

Derek huffed a laugh and then wrapped a coaxing arm around his waist. "No, I was being an ass, I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry. I promise to behave in the future."

Stiles melted into him and sighed in relief. "I like when you misbehave. I don't like when I feel far from you. Next time just slam the door in his face and tell me why we don't like him now." Stiles snuggled into his chest.

"Deal." Derek sweetly kissed the top of his head. "I found the DVDs. Pick one while I shower."

*** Stiles was fighting to keep his eyes awake. No matter how much he loved seeing Bucky Barnes in uniform, the feeling of Derek's warmth radiating into his side where he was gently leaning on him was like no other. If that wasn't enough Derek was slowly dragging his thumb along his knee lulling him deeper. Stiles was so content he could live on this edge between his dreams and the dream forever.

Derek jolted and pulled him out of his fulfilled state. Stiles cocked his head to the side in question.

Derek replied, "We should make popcorn. I think the box with the popcorn maker got put upstairs. I'll grab it. You don't have to pause it." Derek stood and a cool rush of air met his side.

"I was just about to fall asleep, that's perfect. Popcorn will keep me awake. Do you want help?" Stiles offered noncommittally as he tucked himself into the blanket.

"No, I've got it. Keep the couch warm for me." Derek spoke already at the base of the stairs.

Stiles yawned, but he sat up to try and stay awake. He absentmindedly checked his phone for a couple moments before he heard the front door jingle.

That was odd. He hadn't heard Derek come down, nor did he know why he'd need to go outside. Stiles pulled the blanket off himself and stood up with a curious gaze towards the dark hallway. As he moved closer he slowly adjusted to the light and right as he wound around the corner a shape suddenly moved towards him out of the darkness. Stiles stumbled backwards in shock back into the living room. As the shape followed him the light spilled from the TV and lamp to illuminate his face and Stiles stopped in the middle of the room out of confusion.

"Andy?" Stiles asked.

"Stiles, hey sorry it's so late. I wa-" Andy wore a charming smile that Stiles didn't fall for one bit this time.

"The front door was locked. Why are you in my home?" Stiles demanded. He hoped Derek stayed upstairs long enough for him to deal with this. Whatever this was. Stiles crossed his arms and continued on, "Is this about your brother? If so, I doubt an argument is worth breaking into the sheriff's sons' home."

Andy took small leisurely steps closer. "This has nothing to do with Ansel. He was just an unfortunate loss along the way thanks to your dear husband."

Stiles tried to figure out what that meant while looking around the room for weapons. His options were limited to whipping DVDs at him like a knock off Gambit or running to the kitchen for knives. "What do you want with my husband?"

Andy laughed. "We don't want him. He is just in our way. You're quite special Stiles."

Stiles had heard enough. He looked to where the door was left ajar like Andy planned on it getting used again soon. Almost as if someone else would be coming in soon. He didn't know what was going on he just knew he had to deal with this fast especially if there were more coming.

"We just want to talk. We just want you to come with u-"

Stiles cut him off with a sudden uppercut and then immediately dashed for the kitchen. The punch hadn't had quite the effect he hoped because Andy was hot on his heels enraged. Stiles heard his steps too close. He wouldn't make it to the knife block.

Stiles went full speed into the stack of boxes on the other side of the kitchen and kicked out a leg behind himself blindly hoping to keep just enough distance between them. Thankfully he found what he was looking for as Andy gripped his calf tightly trying to wrench it to the side so he could grab Stiles. Stiles spun around and violently smashed the heavy wok into the side of Andy's skull. He used the second of dazed confusion to push against Andy's chest.

Stiles' eyes widened as Andy grew claws and fangs in front of him. The man before him growled as his eyes flashed blue.

"Oh fuck." Stiles swore.

"We just need you to come with us you little bastard. If you come easy we won't hurt your husband, but you're coming either way."

Stiles saw red at that threat, but he pushed it down. There was that "we" again. Stiles felt his stomach drop as he realized his mistake. The door was open so Andy could take him back through it, but if someone was going to follow they would've already. They didn't need to come in through the door because they were already inside.

It didn't take that long to get a popcorn maker.

With that realization Stiles heard a crash of glass shattering upstairs.

Stiles felt everything at once rage, despair, hopelessness, and finally determination. He held up his palms as they flashed with a blinding painful light. It was as if he had lit up their kitchen with a flash bang that could harness the sun itself.

As Andy groaned in pain and clutched at his face disoriented, Stiles pushed past him to sprint upstairs.

He must've been too loud because despite being temporarily blinded, Andy was able to grab onto his torso and sink his claws in before he had even made it through the living room. Stiles shouted in pain from the digits that dug deep into his flesh.

He needed to get to Derek. Andy was in his way.

Stiles gripped both of the werewolf's wrists and attempted something he knew would drop him instantly. Lightning crackled around Stiles' white knuckles that were now covered in his own blood from where they gripped Andy's splattered arms. Stiles could feel the man shaking behind him, but if anything it just drove his claws in deeper. Werewolves had a high tolerance for electrocution. However, it did make them susceptible to other forms of magic. Stiles' eyes started to glow pure white as all of the moisture from the man started to pull out of his eyes, his ears, and finally his mouth. First it was just little trickling strands and then pouring streams that mixed with the electricity as the moisture started to explode out of his skin like a wrung out sponge.

With a heavy thunk the dried out crisp husk of a man fell to the floor.

Stiles started towards the stairs again, but for the second time in less than a minute was dumbstruck with the fangs and claws in front of him. "You're a werewolf!?" Stiles shouted the question at his newlywed husband with wide eyes as he nearly ran into him.

Derek looked relieved, well as much as Stiles could tell through the sideburns his husband never had before.

The floor where Derek had just dropped down groaned in protest as another heavy snarling body thumped down right behind him.

Stiles saw the man's red eyes trained on his husband and reacted instinctively as Derek whipped around to face the threat.

Stiles' hand raised to their cherished house plant sitting on the table up against the stairs while a vibrant green glow emanated from his fingertips and eyes. The pothos had been with them since their first apartment. Lydia gave it to them as a housewarming present. Derek would be upset with how much care he had put into keeping it alive, but he couldn't think about that right now.

The thin vines whipped out and grew in both number and size. In the blink of an eye they wrapped around the alpha's arms and legs just as he was about to swipe his claws at Derek. The green ropes held him taut as even more sprouted thorns and wound around his neck. The alpha began to scream as the thorned vines pushed into his eyes and ears causing blood to gush out. His scream was choked off as vines burst out of his mouth. He fell lifeless to his knees and then finally slumped to the ground as the vines atrophied and turned brown.

Stiles breathed in and out to calm himself from the carnage that had happened in their previously peaceful house in but a few moments.

He lowered his hand slowly and the glow left his eyes, eyes that now met Derek's after they left the now non-existent threat.

He took in his husband's shocked face and didn't even know how to start the conversation, hell the multiple conversations, they now had to have. Like what was he supposed to say, 'Hey honey, why yes I've always been able to do this. Dear, how long have you been a werewolf? Love of my life, would you like to burn the bodies or should I start to look up pig farms?' Stiles felt a pit well in his stomach, for once he did not want to talk to his husband. He didn't want to ruin what they had. Maybe he could wipe Derek's memory. He was spiraling he knew, but he couldn't give up their perfect life. He never wanted to bring Derek into the supernatural life, but here they were.

"You have magic?!" Derek exclaimed.

Derek's eyes fell to Stiles' blood soaked torso. "You're hurt." Derek slowly reached out then paused, almost like he was expecting Stiles to lash out with a dandelion from the yard.

Stiles looked down at his stomach almost noticing the wounds finally through the shock of what had all happened. "I'll be fine really." Stiles looked at Derek's paused hand on his way to reach out. "It's actually helpful that you're a werewolf." Stiles chuckled weakly. "Can I touch you?" Stiles sounded so very unsure about it even he was surprised that he was talking to his husband. The one person that never made Stiles feel unsure.

Derek let out a desperate whispered,  "Please."

Stiles' eyes started to water at the tender feelings and warring worries welling inside of him. He wouldn't have known what to do if Derek turned him away. He smiled as he reached out to grab Derek's arm. "This shouldn't hurt at all, I'm just borrowing your ability to heal." Stiles hesitantly gripped Derek's forearms and focused. Golden glowing veins spidered from Derek's arms to Stiles' waiting palms. His wounds gently glowed the same golden color as they closed.

"Take what you need." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Derek's head swiveling back and forth.

After his flesh had finished fusing back together Stiles released his arm somewhat regretfully, he liked the contact.

"Who hurt you?" Derek spoke with purpose as he pushed past Stiles toward the living room.

Stiles felt his body flush with panic again. He rushed past Derek and pulled the blanket from the couch with a gust of magic to quickly cover the Kentucky fried crispy man, but he was too late.

Derek was stock still looking at the blanket.  "You did this?" He asked quietly.

A million explanations and excuses flooded through Stiles, but nothing more powerful than the shame. Would Derek think of him differently? He hadn't just killed this man, he had given him an agonizing death. Stiles didn't think about the consequences, he didn't think about the man's pain, and he certainly didn't think about mercy. All he thought about was the fastest way to get to Derek no matter how brutal.

"I-I um, yeah. He came up behind me and I- I just reacted." Stiles' voice was small and he started chewing his lip. Maybe he could wipe his memory of the last half hour. No popcorn, they just finished the movie.  "I had to get to you." Stiles didn't like how pleading his voice sounded to his own ears and he definitely didn't know what he was asking of Derek. Please don't look at the body. Please don't be freaked out by how much I love you. Please don't be concerned with the lengths I'd go to for you. Please. Please just don't think I'm a monster.

And if he was really honest and let the most pitiful of them all have a voice, please don't love me any less for the dark things I'd do just to keep you safe.

"Oh." Derek sounded absent minded in a way he had hardly ever heard him.

His eyes were still on the blanket covered body.

"Wow." Derek spoke pushing out each letter of such a simple word in a way that made Stiles taste bile on his tongue. There were many ways in which Stiles wanted to amaze his husband, this was not one of them.

Stiles took several steps back towards the door creating space between them in case Derek didn't know how to tell him he didn't want him near anymore. "I'm sorry." Stiles held his arms against his torso knowing the warmth he'd leeched while holding onto Derek was still on his palms, and yet he felt only a chill up his spine.

Derek finally snapped back to the moment and turned to face him. "No, don't apologize. I just... all day I've been trying to keep you safe but... you never needed me." Derek sounded impressed.

The tears finally fell from Stiles' eyes. "I always need you." He confessed.

Derek stalked over and pulled him into a hug. Stiles buried himself into Derek's chest and let out a breath of relief.

"I think we have a lot to talk about." Derek said.

"Just give me a moment. I just need to hold you to know you're okay. I thought-" Stiles' words caught in his throat. "I thought they'd kill you because of me." Stiles still felt the guilt pulsing inside, but the waves lessened as he felt the warm body against him.

Derek gently carded his hands through his husband's hair to soothe him.  "Who were they?"

Stiles shrugged while wrapped in Derek's arms. "I don't know. From what Andy said it seemed like they wanted me for my magic."

"How long have you..." Derek unwrapped their limbs to look into Stiles' eyes.

"Been a glowy magical young hot Gandalf? Technically since birth, but I didn't get any of the cool magic till after my mom died."

"So the whole time" Derek nodded with a huffed laugh.

"How long have you been... Craving Scooby snacks?" He cursed internally hoping this wasn't a sore subject for Derek.

Stiles loved the soft affection that leaked out of Derek whenever he tried to roll his eyes at his snark. Derek replied, "Also since birth."

"So the whole time." Stiles laughed. "Damn I missed an opportunity to give you a squeaky toy as a wedding gift. So you're an alpha? Where's your pack?" Stiles asked.

Derek gently pinched Stiles' chin and looked lovingly into his eyes. "Right here."

Stiles looked at Derek's fond smile ready to kiss it when he noticed a smear of blood just to the left of his mouth. He swiped it with a thumb. "I doubt this would taste like cherry." He wiped it off on his ruined shirt.

Derek's lips fully upturned into a grin before he crashed their lips together. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

Stiles pulled his head back to speak to him. "But no really, where's your pack? You can't be an alpha with just one puny human that didn't even know you were a werewolf." 

"My alpha status wasn't planned. Wrong place, wrong time. I never wanted this." Derek gestured to the crispy dead body with an air of begrudging acceptance.

"How long have you been an alpha?" Stiles' tone turned mocking, "Since birth?"

Derek laughed. "Five or so years. I haven't really kept up with it. I never took a pack."

Stiles felt his stomach drop. There had been alphas that went insane without a pack in a matter of months. While Stiles would never experience it the thought made him shudder. To be so very alone only wanting someone to connect you to your life and your purpose had to have been torture. Actually, now that he thought about it maybe their experiences weren't all that different. Having power was nothing without someone to protect. Stiles rested his hand on Derek's chest above his heart. "Derek that's- that's awful. Being an alpha without a pack is a terrible way to live. You have nothing to draw from, nothing to hold you down. It would be like if I didn't have my magic. Pack is a part of being a werewolf as much as magic is a part of who I am."

Derek sighed, "Becoming an alpha was... the worst thing that could've happened to me. It took me from my family. They were my pack. I never wanted another one. But a pack can't have two alphas. It disrupts the balance." Derek spoke with such sadness.

"Then I met you. And I knew I'd never need anyone else." Derek had that look, the one that told Stiles he was genuinely happy and it made his heart flutter at the sweet words.

"You're all I need too, but Derek I don't want you to deny a part of who you are to be with me." Stiles hated that for the entire time he knew him, Derek had to hide from him. He didn't want that to be the future.

"What about you? Where's your coven?" A teasing smirk lit up Derek's face. "Am I gonna find a broomstick in one of these boxes?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open in a baldly offended look. "Do you think I'm a witch?!" Stiles pulled back from their embrace mildly upset. Druids and witches were very different things.

"Well, I don't know what you are." Derek once again gestured to Mr. McCrispy. "You're something."

Stiles had already decided to forgive him and only hold it against him occasionally. "If you ever call me a witch again I'm buying you a doghouse for out back. I'm a druid."

Derek’s expression dropped as he pulled from Stiles taking a stumbled step back. "Do-do you have an alpha?" Derek asked fear and horror blatant in his voice.

"Why would I? I already have one lug trying to tell me what to do." Stiles joked confused.

"You're an emissary though." Derek intently stared into his eyes and at his face like he was expecting a lie.

Stiles squinted at him. He had no idea what confused Derek so much. "I'm a druid... I didn't specifically say I was an emissary. Derek do you think all druids are emissaries? Because that's racist. I'm offended." This time his offended face was an act.

"All the druids I've ever met are emissaries. Only alphas really deal with them. Why aren't you an emissary?" Derek asked.

"Because it's rare for a druid not born into or raised alongside a pack to become an emissary. To be an emissary is to be trusted with the pack's lives at the highest level, most of the time equal to an alpha. It's a huge responsibility, but an even bigger trust is needed. My mom left her pack back in Poland when she came here. I know it was something that she missed and always wanted for me, but I knew it would be too difficult to find." Stiles got a bit sad anytime his mother was mentioned, but nothing made that hollow spot in his heart echo like remembering her last days when she barely remembered their names. If he was honest a bit of that echo was his magic calling out to him.

"I hope I didn't keep you from finding that. You're incredibly strong. You'd make an amazing emissary." Derek looked guilty.

"I gave all of that up when I met you. I had an opportunity out in New York. I almost left with a friend I had helped out. He's a dryad and they had just lost their druid emissary. I realized what I had with you made me happier than that ever would. Sometimes I do miss it, magic will always be a part of me-" Stiles looks down as little blue wisps whirled around his waving fingers. "But Derek, don't think for one second that I'm missing out on what's meant for me." Stiles looked at his husband and he knew every word he spoke was absolutely honest. The love he felt for Derek was like nothing else in the world to him.

"That's why he wanted you." Derek looked at the dead alpha in the hall. "You know, if you- if you wanted to be an emissary..." Derek threaded their fingers together and little blue strings began to swirl around both of their fingers.

Derek seemed nervous and it made Stiles wonder if it was from what he said or the magic still moving between them. He wondered if the chill was getting to Derek's bones yet, a normal human would've had to let go by now.

Stiles let the magic go once again and laughed. "Oh man, two seconds ago you thought all druids were emissaries. Absolutely not." Stiles squeezed his fingers hoping their warmth had returned. To his pleasure his husband's hands were as warm as they always were. How he had never realized Derek's ability to instantly warm a cold bed was supernatural Stiles would never know. "I won't say yes to that until you fully know what it means. If you get sick of me you can't just divorce an emissary. Parting from an emissary is like ripping half of your soul away."

Stiles felt that fading echo in his chest again. This time instead of thinking of the end he thought about the beginning, when the pain was loudest.

He thought about how he had gripped his bed sheets when his parents sat him down to tell him his mom was sick. Then he thought about a little bit later when she told him what he was, what they were. Memories started to resonate inside of his head. How scared she had looked when talking about her pack. How he had always wondered what they had done, done to her, and worst of all forced her to do to make her so very scared. He remembered their happy days and their sad days. He remembered overhearing her telling his dad she felt like they were being ripped from him, that her very soul was torn in two. He would never do that to Derek. He could never. She had fought off her own magic rebelling against leaving the pack as long as she could, but eventually it killed every part of her life in her that she loved. She had left her pack even though she knew what it would mean.

Just the thought of Derek leaving him and then losing himself because of it churned his stomach. He willed away the echo and banished the pain. He would always keep the memories though.

"I'd never get sick of you. Parting from you would already be like having half of my soul ripped away." Derek confessed.

"Well it's good you're stuck with me then." Stiles let go of Derek's right hand to thread their left hands together to kiss their wedding rings. "We can work towards it, but I have a feeling your emissary didn't tell you as much as they told your alp- Oh my god Derek! Oh my god!" Stiles spastically slapped Derek's chest. "Your mom is an alpha isn't she?!"

Derek looked startled. "Yes?"

"Oh my god! At Christmas? At Christmas they were all wolves?! How did I not know? This is insane! Your mom makes such a good green bean casserole and she's an alpha!"

Derek laughed. "You'll have lots to talk about next year."

"Next year? I'm getting brunch with her next week. I'm not waiting for Christmas. This is huge!"

"You're having brunch with my mom?" Derek looked offended at not being invited.

"Yes yes, they have bottomless mimosas downtown, we're going to go once a month. Not the point. Holy shit, I can't believe it! Wait, when Cora broke her leg in South America and your mom went to get her, was that werewolf shenanigans or did she really fall down a mountain hiking? Oh my god, I have got to call your mother! Actually, do you think she's still up? We could go visit."

Derek put his hands on his shoulders to ground him. "Stiles, we have two bodies we need to deal with. Let's surprise visit my mother tomorrow, yeah?" Derek spoke with a fond look.

"Oh yeah, totally. What do you think we should do with them?" Stiles looked between the bodies.

Derek looked over his shoulder towards the backdoor. "I actually have a spot already."

"What for bodies?"  Stiles snorted.

"Well, I had to do something with the one from this morning." Derek replied seriously.

Stiles smile dropped and he flung out his arms only to rest them on his hips."What do you mean the one from this morning?!" Stiles couldn't believe this.

"Remember the brother I mentioned?" Derek nodded to Andy's body.

"You killed him?!" Stiles was replaying the day and all the moments he thought his husband had acted strange. Suddenly, Derek hadn't acted strange enough with that new context.

Derek slid his arms through Stiles' while he pulled him in. "Isn't it obvious? I'd kill anyone for you."

His heart shouldn't have melted at that. Stiles was blown away with the love he felt for his husband and how their relationship changed so much and yet not at all over the course of one day. They were going to be okay. They were still going to fall asleep in each other's arms. They were still going to watch movies on the couch. They were still going to always figure things out together. They would now hide bodies together. They would now talk about the supernatural. They would now have very different Christmases. They were still going to be okay, even if they would need to start buying a suspicious amount of bleach.

After all, what was a bit of occasional murder in the shadow of domestic bliss? 

~~~

Love Is Murder

A distant thump snapped Derek's eyes open. The darkness of sleep faded into a muted gray room, the bare walls came into focus. The sun was still hiding behind the horizon. What time was it? Had he dreamt the sound? Another thump had him sitting up, his eyes scanning the mostly empty room. There was nothing but the dresser and a pile of still unpacked boxes stacked by the closet door. Had the sound come from downstairs? No. He was being paranoid. They'd barely owned the house for a week, nobody was out to get him. Yet.

Derek's eyes fell to the still-sleeping figure beside him. Soft snores escaped Stiles' full lips, his hair tousled by his pillow. He was beautiful, even like this.

Thump

That was definitely coming from downstairs. Throwing back the covers, his bare feet hit the cool wood floors.

He silently slipped on the jogging outfit he'd laid out on the top of a box labeled 'Stiles' PJs' the night before.

It was probably raccoons getting in the trash. The non-existent trash. Because they'd not even filled a single trash bag because they'd only been sleeping here for three days. He took in a breath and let it out slowly. He was being paranoid. Not everything was scary and dramatic. He had removed himself from that life. Chose not to go down that path. He chose a normal life. A quiet life. With Stiles.

Derek reached the bottom of the steps and froze. A shadow passed across the back door. Too large to be a raccoon.

Maybe it was a bear. Their property backed up to woods. It wasn't impossible. Despite his mind trying desperately to rationalize it, Derek couldn't push the fear away. What if it was hunters? What if they caught wind of him?

With a gentle click, he unlocked the back door. His heart hammering in his chest. Every muscle in his body froze as a cool breeze wafted over him, carrying with it the scent of a wolf. All apprehension melted from Derek's mind. This was no raccoon or bear, this was a threat. In his home. In his and Stiles' home.

Instinct flooded his veins. Fangs extended into his bottom lip. His fingernails lengthened into sharp claws. He would not let his old life threaten Stiles. They were happy and nothing was going to jeopardize that.

He followed the scent around the side of the house, where a figure was yanking on a closed window.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. The intruder paused, turning to face him.

Derek lunged.

A tangle of teeth and claws. This werewolf was no alpha, but he was strong. But Derek was stronger. He hooked an arm around the man's front. A sharp pain tore across Derek's forearm forcing him to release the intruder. The wolf took advantage of his freedom and bolted across the backyard. Derek gave chase. Close on his heels, he followed him to the dilapidated building at the back of their yard. With another lunge, Derek plowed into the man's back, sending them both rolling through the floor of fallen leaves.

The werewolf jumped to his feet and leapt at him. Derek grabbed an old nearby shovel that was propped against the paint-peeled wall of the shed. He swung, slamming the rusted spade into the side of the wolf's head.

A soft ping rang out into the early morning. The wolf's body hit the ground with a soft thump along with the shovel head, which was now no longer attached to the handle still in Derek's hand.

He panted, his breath fogging in short bursts. The wolf lay unmoving. His head cocked at an odd angle. The threat was gone. But now he had a body to deal with. The wound on his arm was already healing, but his blood had started to dry on his skin. He lifted the handle of the broken shovel. He couldn't bury the body with that.

Letting out a cloudy sigh, he tossed the broken handle aside. The sun peered through the treeline as it rose from its slumber. Birds greeted it in song. He had an hour or two max before Stiles would be awake.

He dragged the body around the back of the shed, out of sight. He'd have to make a run to town and get a new shovel. Following his footsteps back the way he came, a trail of his blood painted the fallen leaves. It lead to the side of the house, where a spattering of red decorated the side. He'd grab a rake too. He wiped at the blood and groaned when it smeared across the off-white, wood planks. And some paint.

Derek scanned for any other sounds or movement before heading inside to grab his keys. He paused in the kitchen. He'd wanted to finally have a real meal with Stiles. One that didn't involve cold cuts and drinks from a can. He was going to make Stiles breakfast. He'd have to settle on coffee. It was the first thing to get unpacked. He snatched a pack of sticky notes from a box labeled 'office' that hadn't made it into the other room yet.

He stared at the pad of paper. He felt bad lying to Stiles. But it was for his safety. Knowing about this world was dangerous. He scribbled a short note and turned the coffee maker on.

He turned on the sink and scrubbed away the dirt and blood from his arm. He made a list in his head of things he would need. A shovel, a rake, paint, a paintbrush, a sponge, a bucket. And peroxide. It was good for getting blood out.

He listened for any movement from upstairs. Nothing. He glanced back at the gurgling coffee maker where the note was stuck. He buried the guilt before heading out.

-

Derek pushed his cart full of supplies to the checkout. He scanned each item, mentally checking them off. Shovel, rake, paint, paintbrush—

"Derek!"

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting his husband's. His heart skipped. "Stiles...hey, what are you doing here?" he stepped around the cart, hoping to hide the basket of supplies to avoid any questions.

"Oh you know wanted to fill up the house, get some groceries for my husband. Even though he did leave me in an empty bed. There's a monster in our house that eats peanut butter-like breathing."

Derek's heart dropped. "A monster in our..." he shook his head. "Oh right." He gave a nervous laugh. Paranoid much? He thought to himself. There was no monster, Stiles was just being funny. "Sorry about that. I just wanted to get an early start. I made sure the coffee was ready though."

He stepped forward, pressing a kiss to Stiles' full lips.

"Yeah, thank you, that was really nice honey bun," Stiles said, holding his hands up in a finger guns motion.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly. They caught on a large glass candle. He plucked it from the pile of groceries in Stiles' cart. He sneered at the name. 'Sweet vanilla chai kisses'. "Really?" he shook his head, setting it back down.

"Hey, say what you want, white girls got nothing on my fall game. I got the healthy cardboard cereal you pretend to enjoy as a compromise." Stiles winked.

An affectionate smile tugged at Derek's lips. "You take such good care of me." He brushed a thumb gently along Stiles' chin. It was true, and Derek was thankful for Stiles every day.

"I'm great at this marriage thing. Hey, what are you doing here?" He glanced around Derek and into his cart. "Did you sign us up for a HGTV show I don't know about? A rake and paint? What happened to you by the way? I thought I was the one with godlike grace and agility."

Derek slid a hand into the cart, pushing the large sponge to cover the peroxide bottle, that one would be harder to explain. "I was just trying to fix up that old building for you, I know you were excited about it. And the yard could use some TLC." Derek shoved the guilt aside once again. He hated lying to Stiles, but how would he tell him he had a dead werewolf in the backyard?

Stiles moved forward, bumping the cart gently into Derek's hip. "Look at you, not so bad at this yourself, handsome. I will fight you for the Husband of the Year title, though. I was thinking of making butternut squash soup and salad for lunch, how does that sound?"

"A home-cooked meal? You win automatically. I'm headed out actually, so I'll see you at home?" Derek wanted to get rid of the body before Stiles got there.

"Okay, yeah. Before you head out, you need me to get anything for you from the store?" Stiles teased with a laugh.

Derek's eyes softened. He was so smitten. Stiles could ask him to murder everyone in the store and Derek wouldn't hesitate. "Maybe a less poisonous candle? Or are you gunning for my life insurance already?" he smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Be safe."

"You have unscented ones. And I don't need money nearly as much as I need someone to make me coffee in the morning," Stiles called over his shoulder as he turned to continue his shopping.

Derek pushed his own cart toward the counter to check out. "Oh, maybe some of that creamer with the picture of the dog dressed as a pumpkin. You know the one." Of course Stiles knew the one. Stiles knew everything about him. A nauseating tug at his stomach reminded him that he didn't know everything.

-

Hoisting the rake over one shoulder and the shovel over the other, Derek made his way toward the back of the building. He hoped the body hadn't magically disappeared in the time it took to fetch a proper shovel. He didn't know if someone would come looking for him. He didn't know anything about this guy. Why was he trying to break in? What was he after? Who sent him? These would have been good questions to ask, but Derek's mind was on one track that morning. Eliminate the threat. Now the threat was eliminated but he had no clue if more would be coming.

Stepping around the building, the body was still where he'd left it. He patted the body down, searching for some clue as to who this man was and what he wanted. There was nothing. With a grunt, Derek grabbed the ankles and drug him into the woods. The last thing he needed was a dead body buried directly on his property. His father-in-law was the sheriff after all.

It took far longer than Derek thought it would to dig the hole. He chucked the body into it and wiped at the gathering sweat on his brow. Despite the crisp autumn air, he was now drenched.

He shoveled the dirt over the body as the soft hum of Stiles' voice reached his ears. He smiled to himself. He must be cooking. His stomach rumbled in anticipation of lunch. He hadn't eaten yet. But he still had work to do. There was blood staining the side of the house. He'd need to clean that before Stiles noticed.

Swiping underbrush over the freshly turned ground, Derek listened to Stiles' humming. He followed the sound back toward the house and gathered the other supplies.

The sponge sloshed peroxide and water onto the side of the house. It only managed to smear the stain further. He would need direct peroxide. He poured it onto the sponge and scrubbed. Most of the blood wiped away but the once off-white paint was still tinted pink.

Painting over the stain was easy enough and didn't take nearly as long as burying a body. The last thing he needed to do was rake up the blood-soaked leaves.

He drug the rake over the ground, catching something black in the teeth. It was a wallet. He opened it to see his earlier attacker's face. 'Ansel Williams'. Well, now he had a name. Though not much else. Glancing up he saw Stiles in the window. He quickly dropped the wallet and drug a pile of leaves over it. He gave an awkward wave. Stiles waved back with a smile. Derek glanced down at the bloody leaves at his feet. He should throw the wallet away, but what if someone came looking for him? What if Sheriff Stilinski came by?

Derek ran a hand through his hair. He was being paranoid again. The Sheriff would have no reason to come here looking for Ansel. Raking the wallet into his pile of leaves he decided to just bury the wallet in the woods near the body. Nobody shy of a lucky coyote would find it there. He finished raking the leaves and hiding the wallet just in time to hear a voice from the house. Not a voice he recognized. Listening closely, his stomach dropped.

"You must be Stiles."

"Hi, and who are you? Do you know my husband? Do I know you?"

Derek dropped the paint can he was putting away and sprinted toward the house.

"No, not yet. But I'm hoping to be good friends with you," The man's voice said. Was that an underlying threat?

He shoved open the back door a little too hard. It knocked into a pile of unpacked boxes before slamming shut.

"You and your husband. Of course. I just wanted to meet the new neighbors."

Derek came up behind Stiles just as he responded. "Oh, do you live nearby?"

A lupine scent hit his nose, making his hackles rise.

Stepping in front of Stiles, Derek narrowed his eyes. "This is private property, what do you want?"

The man's dark brown eyes went wide. His nostrils flared. "Uh, sorry, I was just..." he took a couple steps back, his foot faltering on the top step. "It was nice meeting you."

Stiles thrust a hand out in greeting. "Oh, don't go. No, I'm sorry. This caveman with no manners is my husband." Stiles shot him a sharp glare. "Please don't mind him. We'd love to have your company. I just finished making lunch."

Derek snapped his head toward Stiles. He didn't know who this person was. He was inviting a threat in to eat with them. "I'm sure he can't stay." It was lousy as far as excuses went, but he didn't know how else to get rid of him without Stiles fussing at him for his lack of manners.

The man shook his head. "Oh, no, I—"

Stiles grabbed Derek's arm, giving it a hard squeeze. "I insist." Derek knew what that meant. He was gonna get fussed at for his lack of manners anyway.

An awkward silence hung in the air. How did he get rid of this man without telling Stiles that he was dangerous?

"Come in. What was your name?" Stiles stepped back to allow the threat inside. He made a shooing motion at Derek. Clenching his jaw, he obliged. His eyes watched the man's every move. If he was stupid enough to pull something, Derek would be ready.

"Ansel Williams," He answered, eyeing the pair carefully as he stepped inside.

Derek froze. His heart jolted. Shit. This man was looking for the dead wolf in the back.

"But you can call me Andy. I can see that your husband recognizes the name. It's very unique I know. It's odd that you don't th—"

"My name's Derek, nice to see you again." he stuck a hand out, pulling Andy's attention from Stiles. He gave a hard squeeze. "Stiles made soup. I hope you're hungry."

Andy gave him a curious look and smiled. "Famished." He followed Stiles with a newfound confidence.

-

The tension at the table was palpable as Stiles grabbed the plate of rolls and handed them to Andy. "So what kind of special assets does your company acquire?" he asked.

Andy took another roll, dipping it in the remains of his soup. "Well, it depends. Though we really go after the more coveted and unique people."

"Oh, so you're a headhunter?" Stiles sounded interested. It wasn't his fault he didn't know about the threat this man posed, but Derek hated how friendly he was.

Andy swallowed his bite of bread and smirked. "Something like that."

Derek continued to glare. He'd been glaring at this man through all of lunch. Everything out of this man's mouth was a lie. Other than the part about going after coveted and unique people. That was true. But what was it about Derek that was so coveted or unique? Nothing that he knew of. Unless it was because of his bloodline. The name Hale was well known, but to warrant a multi-attack? It didn't make sense.

"What do you guys do?" Andy asked, gesturing between the pair with his half-eaten roll.

"Well, I'm an online web designer so I work from home," Stiles answered.

Derek didn't respond. Why did he want to know what they did?

"And my wonderful husband is a basketball coach at the high school. The kids absolutely love him. He's so good with them. So much better than he is with adults sometimes." Stiles gave him a pointed look, patting his hand sternly. Derek could hear the reprimands that would come later.

"How very domestic." Andy smirked. His eyes were on Derek. He was taunting him. Derek wanted to rip this guy's throat out. But first, he wanted him out of his damn house and away from Stiles.

"It's a very rewarding job," he grumbled, hoping his response would appease Stiles enough.

"He's really very good. He took the kids to state last year. Honey, you should go show him the photo in the garage and your trophies. I have to go get dessert ready anyway." Stiles pushed away from the table. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Derek's temple. "Be nice and make friends," he muttered.

Derek gave a forced smile as Stiles squeezed his shoulder firmly. "Dessert will be just five minutes."

Derek waited for Stiles to leave the dining room before narrowing his eyes and gesturing toward the garage door. "Follow me."

Andy silently did as he was told. Despite his confident posture, he smelled nervous. Good.

Derek shoved Andy through the garage door almost sending him into a pile of unpacked boxes labeled basketball trophies. With a hushed whisper, he demanded, "What do you want?"

Andy whirled, squaring up with a false sense of confidence. "I want to know where Ansel is."

"Not here."

"But he was."

Derek took a menacing step forward. "What. Do. You. Want?"

Andy gave a smug smirk. "Ya know, that husband of yours sure is something."

Derek's arm snapped out and grabbed him by the throat, claws extending into his flesh, making Andy wince. His eyes flared red.

All color drained from Andy's face. "You're an alpha."

Derek's brows furrowed. He didn't know he was an alpha? Then what did he want?

The moment of hesitation was enough for Andy to throw his elbow into the crook of Derek's arm, making his grip falter just enough for him to yank away.

He slammed his hand into the garage door opener.

Derek lunged but Andy was already rolling under the opening door.

"Damn it," he swore. He started after him, but the door to the house opened, halting him in place.

Stiles stood in the doorway, a confused look on his face. "The pie is ready. Where'd Andy go?" He craned his neck as if to spot their guest. "You didn't murder him did you?" he joked.

Derek walked over to him, stepping in his line of sight. He huffed a laugh. "He had to go, wife called," he lied, hoping Stiles believed him.

As he got closer he saw a smudge of red on his lower lip. He reached out, swiping his thumb across it. He licked at the sticky substance and hummed, "Mmm, cherry?"

"Yeah... It is..." Stiles answered, but his tone was hesitant, like he was trying to put the pieces of something together. Something he would never be able to piece together because he was missing vital parts of the puzzle. Once again a twist of guilt wrenched Derek's stomach, churning his lunch.

He reached past Stiles, sending the large garage door rattling back down and forcing Stiles to step back into the house. Giving a sweet smile he gestured inside,"Shall we?"

-

The pile of boxes in the living room was less scary when he needed them as a distraction to avoid the questions from his husband. Stiles was obviously upset about Derek's behavior at lunch, but he didn't have a good answer. What could he say? The man was a werewolf come to kill him? He didn't even know if that was true. Andy had been less than willing to explain what he wanted.

He yanked open a box, digging through cords and surge protectors. How was he supposed to enjoy watching a movie when a threat was looming in the distance? Surely Andy would be back. He hadn't gotten what he wanted. Had he? What if what he wanted was information? Stiles had been more than willing to tell him all about them.

Pushing the box away, he yanked open another one, tearing it in his frustration. He plucked the DVDs, setting them neatly in the new entertainment center he and Stiles had picked out last week. It gave him pause. It was new. The house was new. How had they found him here? They'd barely lived there three days.

Derek replayed the brief conversation he had with Andy in the garage. He had been surprised when he saw Derek's eyes. He hadn't expected him to be an alpha. But that wasn't new. He'd been an alpha for years. Well before he met Stiles.

He could hear the hostile clank of dishes in the sink. It rang through his ears like an alarm. He was in trouble. He needed a lie. One that Stiles would believe.

Derek was knelt in front of the entertainment center, dvd's in either hand when Stiles stormed into the living room. "We're going to talk about how lunch went, and how you know Andy. Also, don't try to make me think it isn't a big deal. You don't normally act like that. And don't you dare try and tell me it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you Derek Hale-Stilinski and that lunch was not you and you shutting me out and not talking to me definitely isn't you..." Stiles sucked in a breath and waited a moment before gesturing to Derek. "Okay, I'm done now you can speak."

Derek sighed, setting the DVD's in his hands on the entertainment center. He pushed to his feet. Lying to Stiles when he was already suspicious wouldn't help matters. So maybe he could just be vague. "I had an unpleasant run-in with his brother." Not technically a lie.

Squinting at Derek, with his hands on his hips, Stiles asked, "How unpleasant? Do I need to go over there with the rest of the pie laced with laxatives, or poison?"

Derek couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. He huffed a laugh, wrapping his arms around Stiles' waist to pull him in. "No, I was being an ass. I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry. I promise to behave in the future."

Stiles melted into him and sighed in relief. "I like when you misbehave. I don't like when I feel far from you. Next time just slam the door in his face and tell me why we don't like them now." He nuzzled into Derek's chest.

Closing his eyes in a wince, Derek pushed away the guilt. How easy it was for Stiles to take him at his word. It made his chest clench. "Deal," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I found the DVDs. Pick one while I shower."

-

Derek was tucked under Stiles' arm, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly along his knee. Captain America played on the TV across from them. It was one of Derek's favorite places to be. Curled up with Stiles. He only wished he could fully relax. Despite his comfortable state, his mind was anywhere but the scene on the screen in front of him. His ears were perked like a dog waiting on an intruder. Is that what he was reducing himself to? Stiles' guard dog? That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a quiet life with his husband.

A gentle clunk made his heart leap. Was that upstairs? It couldn't have been the movie. This scene was too calm. Another softer thud had him sitting up suddenly. Stiles gave him a sleepy, confused look.

"We should make popcorn. I think the box with the popcorn maker got put upstairs. I'll grab it. You don't have to pause it." He said giving Stiles' knee a gentle squeeze before standing.

"I was just about to fall asleep, that's perfect. Popcorn will keep me awake. Do you want help?" Stiles offered, though Derek knew it was an empty offer, he always made the popcorn. Stiles got too comfortable and hated moving once the movie was going. Sure enough, he tucked himself further under the sherpa blanket as Derek rounded the couch. His keen hearing honed in on the obvious shuffling upstairs.

"No, I've got it. Keep the couch warm for me," he called over from the bottom of the stairs. Derek's patience for today was waning. He was going to rip apart whoever was stupid enough to break into his house. He hoped it was Andy.

The steps whined under his bare feet as he stalked to the top. His nostrils flared, searching for a foreign scent. He paused when a shadow crossed the floor of his bedroom. His claws extended. He expected the familiar smell of Andy to reach his nose, but it was someone new. Another wolf. A low growl escaped his throat. He was tired of people trying to break into his house. What did they want?

Derek stepped into the room to see a man by his, once locked, bedroom window. He stood tall, with dark hair, and olive skin. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"Took you long enough," The man said. His husky tone was almost bored as he leaned against the wall. He looked too comfortable.

"Let me guess, friend of Ansel?" Derek growled back.

"You know, I was disappointed when he didn't return. He was a good one. I'm guessing he's dead?"

"He wouldn't have been if he hadn't tried to break into my house." Derek glanced at the broken lock of the window.

"Right, about that. It was nothing personal, just business." The man smirked.

Derek's fangs dropped. "Nothing personal?" he scoffed. "What do you want?" he was going to get his answers before he killed this one, and he wasn't letting him get away.

"Well, not you." The man waved a disinterested hand as he pushed off the wall.

Derek's eyes narrowed.

"Surely you didn't think you were of interest? Frankly, I didn't even know he was married, much less to a werewolf."

Derek's blood ran cold. They were after Stiles. Before he could even register what he was doing, he had crossed the room. His eyes bled red as he closed the distance between them.

A brief expression of fear flitted across the man's face before his own eyes flared a dark crimson. So this was the alpha. Derek would be damned if he let anyone hurt Stiles.

Derek's claws dug into soft flesh. The lamp on their dresser shattered into pieces as the alpha's face smashed into it. Derek held his head against the top of the dresser, blood seeping onto the dark wood.

"If you even so much as think about hurting him—" Derek's words were cut off by a pair of claws raking across his gut. He stumbled back. Before he could regain himself, he was being tackled. He and the alpha tumbled into a pile of boxes, crushing them under their weight. Hastily folded clothes and blankets spilled out around them. Derek rolled to his feet and sank his claws into the man's ribcage, who snarled in pain. He was about to go in for a blow to the throat when he heard a cry of anguish from downstairs. Stiles.

Panic spiked through him. No. No. No. No. He should have known this was a distraction. Why else would they break in upstairs? He spun away from the alpha, his only goal now, to get to Stiles. A heavy thump had Derek scrambling down the steps in record timing. He almost didn't want to see what was waiting for him. Stiles' dead body? He couldn't bear it. He hopped the banister, not bothering with the last few steps. He needed to get to him. He landed in the foyer that opened to the living room, his claws and fangs still out on full display.

He barely got three steps forward before Stiles was skidding to a halt in front of him, his eyes wide.

"You're a werewolf?!" he exclaimed.

Relief and dread washed over Derek. Relief because Stiles was alive. Dread because Stiles now saw a side of him that he'd never wanted him to see.

A thud and snarl behind him had him spinning on his heels. There was still a threat. The alpha. He had to protect Stiles. Before he could strike, though, the small table that housed their one and only plant tipped. The vines of the Pothos Lydia had gifted them, whipped out and curled around the alpha's arms and legs. They climbed him, winding around his throat like a choke collar on a Doberman.

Blood poured from his ears and eyes as the vines punctured them. He let out a pained cry. It was choked off by green spilling from his open mouth. His face stretched like an Edvard Munch painting.

Derek took a stumbled step back as if he were afraid the vines would come for him next. The alpha dropped to his knees and crumpled to the floor. The green of the plant drained, leaving darkened vines and shriveled leaves draped over the now-dead alpha.

Derek's claws and fangs retracted as he spun back to Stiles, whose eyes faded from a vibrant glowing green. His hand was outstretched like Darth Vader. He lowered it, a panicked look on his face.

Derek blinked at his husband. His magical husband. "You have Magic?!" how had he not known? Before he could press further, his eyes fell to the spreading stain on Stiles' shredded blue shirt. The sharp smell of copper hit his nose. His stomach sank.

"You're hurt." He reached out, desperate to see how bad the injury was. But the look on Stiles' face made him unsure. God how he hated being unsure with Stiles. Was he afraid of him? Disgusted by him? He paused his outstretched hand.

Stiles looked down at himself as if inspecting the wound. "I'll be fine, really. It's actually helpful that you're a werewolf," he gave a weak laugh. His expression remained unsure, his eyes almost timid. "Can I touch you?"

Derek's heart cracked. Stiles never hesitated to reach out. Were things really so different now? Did this change how he felt about him? Fear crushed him. He wasn't ready to lose Stiles.

"Please," he whispered desperately. He needed to feel his husband.

Stiles gave a small smile, his eyes filling with tears. Despite the permission, he still acted as though he were afraid of Derek, slowly extending his hands and gently clasping his forearms.

"This shouldn't hurt at all. I'm just borrowing your ability to heal."

Derek didn't care if it killed him so long as Stiles was okay. Relief wafted from Stiles as golden light climbed through Derek's arms and to Stiles'.

"Take what you need." His eyes glanced passed Stiles toward the living room, where Stiles had been coming from before. What had happened? Someone had hurt Stiles. The scent of Ozone painted the air.

Stiles' grip on his arms loosened. Derek pushed past him, his eyes scanning for the other threat. "Who hurt you?" There was no evidence that anything had happened at all. Did they run away? Were they hiding? Waiting to pounce again?

He followed the scent into the living room. Stiles blew past him and yanked the blanket from the couch to cover a body. But it was too late. Derek saw the body lying three or four feet from the kitchen door. There was no way to tell who this figure was by the way the body was shriveled and fried. It resembled the plant that lay dead in their foyer. But the smell in the air gave away his identity. Andy.

Derek gaped at the blanket. He knew what magic could do, but this was beyond anything he'd ever seen. "You did this?" he asked, almost not believing that his sweet, adorable, spastic, husband was capable of such power.

"I-I um, yeah," Stiles answered sheepishly. "He came up behind me and I-I just reacted." He chewed on his bottom lip. "I had to get to you."

Pride swelled in Derek. His eyes didn't leave the blanket-covered body. "Oh. Wow," he breathed. Stiles was incredible. He'd always known it but this... this was unbelievable.

"I'm sorry." Stiles' quiet tone made Derek whirl around to where Stiles had retreated toward the door. His arms crossed over his chest in an anxious, protective manner.

"No, don't apologize. I just... all day I've been trying to keep you safe but... you never needed me." It was a painful realization just as much as it was a proud one.

A tear slipped from Stiles' eyes. "I always need you."

The sight of tears erased any reservation Derek had about touching Stiles. He crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug. Relief flooded him when Stiles didn't shy away, but instead nuzzled into him. He didn't think he could handle if he was afraid of him. It felt so good to hold him.

"I think we have a lot to talk about," he said.

"Just give me a moment. I just need to hold you to know you're okay. I thought—" The words caught in his throat. "I thought they'd kill you because of me."

Had Stiles known them? He pet the top of his head, hoping to comfort him. "Who were they?"

Stiles shrugged into the hug. "I don't know. From what Andy said it seemed like they wanted me for my magic."

"How long have you..." Derek pulled back to meet Stiles' eyes. Surely this wasn't a new thing. He was too powerful for it to be new.

"Been a glowy, magical, young, hot, Gandalf?" he teased. "Technically since birth, but I didn't get any of the cool magic till after my mom died."

"So the whole time." Derek nodded and huffed a laugh.

"How long have you been... craving Scooby snacks?"

Derek gave an affectionate eye roll. "Also since birth."

"So the whole time," Stiles laughed.

How much stress and guilt could have been avoided if they'd just been honest from the beginning?

"Damn, I missed an opportunity to give you a squeaky toy as a wedding gift." Stiles teased again. "So you're an alpha? Where's your pack?" he asked.

Derek's eyes softened. He pinched Stiles' chin gently between his thumb and index finger. "Right here."

Stiles reached up, swiping a thumb at the corner of Derek's mouth. "I doubt this would taste like cherry." There was a smear of blood. He wiped it on his already-stained shirt.

Derek smiled and surged forward. Their lips crashed together. Not ten minutes ago, he feared he'd never get to experience this feeling again.

When they pulled back, they pressed their foreheads together. Derek breathed in Stiles' scent. It was a comforting one. One that now that he knew, was layered with a certain arcane spice. How had he not noticed before? Perhaps, it was true what they said, ignorance was bliss.

The space between them doubled as Stiles pulled back. His eyes searched Derek's. "But no really, where's your pack? You can't be an alpha with just one puny human that didn't even know you were a werewolf."

Derek tried not to wince. He had wondered when Stiles would press about his werewolf status. It was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to. "My alpha status wasn't planned. Wrong place, wrong time. I never wanted this." He gestured to the dead body under the blanket. They would not be putting that back on the couch. Too bad, it was a nice blanket.

"How long have you been an alpha?" Stiles' tone shifted from curious to mocking. "Since birth?"

Derek huffed a laugh. "Five or so years. I haven't really kept up with it. I never took a pack." He'd considered it briefly. But the idea of not being part of his mother's pack had been too hard. He'd rejected the idea completely. It felt too much like a betrayal. A desperate attempt to save a young girl had turned into a police investigation and red eyes in the mirror.

Stiles' brows pinched into a sympathetic frown. He placed a hand on Derek's chest, like he was trying to guard his heart. "Derek that- that's awful. Being an alpha without a pack is a terrible way to live. You have nothing to draw from, nothing to hold you down. It would be like if I didn't have my magic. Pack is a part of being a werewolf as much as magic is a part of who I am."

Derek sighed. He had never imagined having this conversation with Stiles. He had hoped to never have to. But it seemed like this was the trajectory of his life. His mother had warned him that he couldn't escape it. He had thought he proved her wrong.

"Becoming an alpha was... the worst thing that could happen to me. It took me from my family. They were my pack. I never wanted another one. But a pack can't have two alphas. It disrupts the balance." He stared into Stiles' honey-colored eyes. "Then I met you. And I knew I'd never need anyone else."

"You're all I need too, but Derek I don't want you to deny a part of who you are to be with me."

Derek would deny any part of him if it let him be with Stiles. But he knew well enough not to say as much. Instead, he asked. "What about you? Where's your coven? Am I gonna find a broomstick in one of these boxes?" he gave a teasing smirk.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "Do you think I'm a witch?!" he stepped back like Derek had struck him.

"Well, I don't know what you are." He gestured to the covered body again. "You're something."

"If you ever call me a witch again, I'm buying you a doghouse for out back. I'm a druid."

Those words struck Derek like a knife to the heart. A druid? No. He couldn't be. The room shifted around him. Or maybe it was just his entire life. His balance faltered, forcing him to take a stumbled step back. "Do-do you have an alpha?" Surely not. He would have smelled him. Unless he used his magic to hide him. The thought of smelling another alpha on Stiles was almost enough to make his wolf surface.

"Why would I? I already have one lug trying to tell me what to do." Stiles' tone was still light, teasing. But Derek's stomach was in knots as he listened for a lie. An emissary protected their alpha with their life. Stiles would be fully in his right to keep it from Derek. But he hoped he wouldn't. He hoped there was more respect and trust between them.

"You're an emissary though." His eyes continued to search Stiles' expression for any clue. If he had an alpha that would be almost as bad as finding out he had another husband.

Stiles squinted at him. A tell tale sign that he was being an idiot. "I'm a druid... I didn't specifically say I was an emissary. Derek, do you think all druids are emissaries? Because that's racist. I'm offended." He sneered in mock offense.

Derek blinked. "All the druids I've ever met are emissaries." Maybe Stiles didn't have an alpha after all. "Only alphas really deal with them. Why aren't you an emissary?" he tried to keep the hopefulness out of his tone.

"Because it's rare for a druid not born into or raised alongside a pack to become an emissary. To be an emissary is to be trusted with the pack's lives at the highest level, most of the time equal to an alpha. It's a huge responsibility, but an even bigger trust is needed. My mom left her pack back in Poland when she came here. I know it was something that she missed and always wanted for me, but I knew it would be too difficult to find."

The worry and fear drained from Derek. There was no one else. He almost felt guilty for being relieved. Poor Stiles had never known the love and safety of a pack. The alpha in him wanted to give that to Stiles more than anything. A sinking feeling dug into the pit of his stomach. "I hope I didn't keep you from finding that. You're incredibly strong. You'd make an amazing emissary."

"I gave all of that up when I met you. I had an opportunity out in New York. I almost left with a friend I had helped. He's a dryad and they had just lost their druid emissary. I realized what I had with you made me happier than that ever would. Sometimes I do miss it. Magic will always be a part of me." Stiles glanced down at his left hand and blue swirls of magic twisted between his fingers like a magician rolling a coin. "But Derek, don't think for one second that I'm missing out on what's meant for me."

"That's why he wanted you." Derek looked over at the dead alpha still in their hall. "You know, if you-if you wanted to be an emissary..." he trailed off. It was a scary thing to even consider, but he'd do anything for Stiles, even embracing this life. He stepped in, closing some of the distance between them, and threaded their fingers together. It was like sticking his hand into a frozen lake. Ice cold to the point it was almost painful. Almost. The blue swirled around their hands for just a moment before dispersing.

Stiles laughed. "Oh man, two seconds ago you thought all druids were emissaries. Absolutely not." Stiles squeezed his fingers.

Derek tried not to wince. It was hard not to take that rejection hard. But he understood. It wasn't something you did on a whim.

"I won't say yes to that until you fully know what it means. If you get sick of me you can't just divorce an emissary. Parting from an emissary is like ripping half of your soul away."

Derek fought to not scoff at Stiles' words. "I'd never get sick of you. Parting from you would already be like having half of my soul ripped away."

"Well, it's good you're stuck with me then." Stiles let go of Derek's right hand and threaded their left hands together before leaning in and pressing a kiss to where their wedding rings touched. "We can work towards it, but I have a feeling your emissary didn't tell you as much as they told your alp- Oh my god, Derek! Oh my god!" Stiles slapped at Derek's chest like he just realized something major. "Your mom is an alpha isn't she?!"

Derek was still reeling from his emotional whiplash of being rejected, before being told they'd work towards it to now being assaulted with questions about his mom. "Yes?" he frowned.

"Oh my god! At Christmas? At Christmas, they were all wolves?! How did I not know? This is insane! Your mom makes such a good green bean casserole and she's an alpha!"

Derek couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in him. God, Stiles was so endearing. "You'll have lots to talk about next year."

"Next year? I'm getting brunch with her next week. I'm not waiting for Christmas. This is huge!"

Panic briefly gripped Derek as it always did whenever Stiles interacted with his family. But it didn't have time to settle. There was nothing to fear any longer. No huge, life-altering secret to scare Stiles off. It was out in the open now. Stiles could have brunch with his mother every day— wait. "You're having brunch with my mom?" why had he not been invited? Why didn't he even know about it?

"Yes, yes, they have bottomless mimosas downtown. We're going to go once a month. Not the point. Holy shit I can't believe it! Wait, when Cora broke her leg in South America and your mom went to get her was that werewolf shenanigans, or did she really fall down a mountain hiking? Oh my god, I have got to call your mother! Actually, do you think she's still up? We could go visit."

Derek put his hands on Stiles' shoulders. He loved that he was so eager to talk to his mother. It had always warmed his heart how much they loved him and how much he seemed to love them. But right now wasn't the time. "Stiles, we have two bodies we need to deal with. Let's surprise visit my mother tomorrow, yeah?" he couldn't help the fond look in his eyes as he met Stiles'.

"Oh, yeah, totally. What do you think we should do with them?" Stiles' eyes darted between the two dead wolves.

Derek glanced over his shoulder toward the back door. "I actually have a spot already."

"What for bodies?" Stiles snorted, like the notion was an absurd one. Never mind the fact that they had two dead bodies to contend with.

"Well, I had to do something with the one from this morning."

Stiles' smile dropped and his arms flung out before settling on his hips. "What do you mean the one from this morning?!"

"Remember the brother I mentioned?" He nodded toward Andy's body.

"You killed him!?"