Teen Wolf MicroBang

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a single red hoodie.

If this was one of those crappy movies Lydia’s force-fed him, Jackson’s pretty sure he’d be pacing anxiously right now, trying to find the right words. He’d also be doing this because it’s the right thing, or possibly because Lydia asked him.

Well fuck that.

Okay, so he is looking to find the right words, but not for some sappy reason – basically, here? The “right” words means whatever keeps him from being grounded from here to eternity.

However, Jackson’s not pacing, he’s not anxious and he sure as hell isn’t thinking about doing what’s right. He might be thinking a little about pleasing Lydia – she’s deserved it, what with everything he’s put her through – but when push comes to shove that’s not what this is about either.

It comes down to one thing: right now Jackson owes Stilinski, and that’s not how things work. Jackson Whittemore refuses to owe Stilinski anything. It’s beneath him, and Jackson sure as hell isn’t going to let it stay that way. Owing Stilinski never works out for anyone – the kid’s spastic and constantly joking, sure, but he’s also vicious as fuck and Jackson just knows that if he leaves this for Stilinski to call in it won’t end well.

Better to pay up, as it were, without prompting and be on equal footing (or as equal as someone like him could be with Stilinski, Jackson thinks, sneering internally). Plus, as much as he hates admitting it, for now Jackson needs a pack, which means Derek Hale. And that, in turn, means McCall, and Stilinski. Stilinski, who can’t legally be near Jackson.

Jackson’s not stupid – he knows what the result will be if Hale has to make a choice between McCall and Jackson. (Just as he knows that McCall will insist on Stilinski’s presence over Jackson’s if he is made to choose.) And since Jackson refuses to lose, he’ll just have to make sure there’s no reason for that to happen.

All of which means making his dad get rid of the restraining order against Stilinski. It’ll take some fancy footwork, but well. Jackson excels at fancy footwork.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The talk goes about as well as could be expected, though not nearly as well as Jackson had hoped, meaning he gets a pretty bad tongue lashing and a semi-grounding, but he also gets what he needs. The restraining order is dropped.

Stopping his dad from looking too deep into the whole mess – because while Jackson doesn’t really care that much about his parents finding out about werewolves, he does care about them knowing he killed people – isn’t nearly as hard as he’d feared. He simply tells his dad that the idiot duo thought he was working with Matt on the murders – true, and true – but chose to take the law into their own hands because they didn’t trust Jackson’s dad not to bury it instead of making sure it was investigated.

That effectively shuts his dad up, as they both know that Jackson’s been getting away with more than he probably should because of this very fear before. (Jackson’s pretty sure he won’t again though, but. It’s worth it to not leave Stilinski with the upper hand.)

As he curls up in the couch next to a pleased Lydia later that night, a movie playing on the screen and a text from Hale (Training tomorrow at 10. Be on time.) on his phone Jackson feels pleased with himself.

He’s got the power he wanted, he’s got the girl, and he’s gotten a better relationship with his parents. Danny’s coming over the next evening so Jackson can work on repairing their friendship. He’s even managed to talk Lydia into watching something other than “The Notebook”.

He’s got the whole summer in front of him, long shiny days full of promise. And once junior year starts up in the fall, Jackson will be on top again, just like he’s supposed to be.

Part 1

He knew it wasn’t wise to leave the house on the full moon. His mother was very adamant about that before she died. Said that it wasn’t safe for anyone to go out there at such a time, but especially for them. He knew there were things out there in forest. Everyone knew really about the things that went bump in the night. Though no one chose to comment on that. But with his dad working more and more, and his curiosity own curiosity wearing thin.

It was fr this reason he found himself on the eve of his 12th birthday unlatching the backdoor to his home and stepping out into the moonlit night. With his heart beating fast in his chest he entered into the woods behind his home and what he found there would alter him for the rest of his life.

Part 2

There was light streaming through his curtains and birds chirping outside announcing the beginning of the day. But that wasn’t what woke him up. Blinking slowly he tried to catch the last remnants of the dream he was having. It was the same one he’d been having for the past 6 years. It was the night he first met the Hales.

He had been so much younger then, filled with a courage he had not yet known he possessed. He was already deep into the forest when he met him. All glowing eyes, sharp teeth and claws. A boy, for he was not yet a man, not much older than he. He had looked at Stiles in such a way that made him feel as though maybe he was scared of him. Though the boy was the one in possession of such monstrous qualities.

The sight was just as he had read in his mother’s well hidden books. A creature not completely man nor beast. Something he found he did not fear but was in awe of instead.

That first meeting when both their eyes were transfixed on nothing but each other trying to gauge whether the other was a threat. Laughable really, to Stiles now, since he has gotten to know the Hales and all they were. But at the time it was understandable.

It was soon after that that someone far more fierce came into the clearing the two of them were standing in. A woman so beautiful and so imposing entered. The look in her eyes filled Stiles with fear but not the kind that made him wish to run and hide. But a kind that he would never forget the feeling of. He was in the presence of someone far greater and stronger than he. A predator so much more than anything he had encountered before. And in the moment she saw, she did a most unexpected thing. She looked at him, then the other boy and then back to him. Her expression changed to something he still cannot name and smiled at him.

Stiles smiled at the memory his dream brought with it. At the time he never thought he’d get to know them. A family much like anyone elses but so much more than they seemed to be.

Part 3

Today was the full moon. Much like it had been so many years ago. But this time he wasn’t going to leave the safely of his home. As he never did again after that first encounter. By he did leave the doors of his home unlocked and his windows open You never knew who might need to climb through. The farthest he would go was the porch swing in his backyard. He would be safe there.

As the moon rose he sat on his swing to wait as he did many times before. Slowly as the night grew darker and more and more creatures roamed about, he finally heard it. Somewhere in the distance a sound resonated through the forest instilling fear into many who listened for it, though he no longer felt it. A howl deep and beautiful went through his bones and he smiled at the sensation. The wolves were on the hunt.

A time later when he was swinging to himself and looking into the forest, he finally caught sight of him. A figure emerge from the shadows, large, muscular and imposing. With eyes glowing blue, armed with teeth and claws. Much as he had on more than one occasions prior. Though he and Stiles no longer looked at each other warily but with affection.

Stiles sighed, smiled with a wry grin and said “Hey Derek, wanna join me and this beautiful night?” the man just huffed, rolled his eyes and stepped forward to join him on the swing.

Pleased with himself Stiles smiled and laid his head on the other man’s shoulders thinking to himself how lucky it was his curiosity got the better of him all those years ago.

"You’re doing it wrong! Give that to me, you get the next step." Cora ordered, taking over mixing the batter before any more of it spilled out of the bowl and onto the floor.

Isaac just stepped back, knowing not to try and take his task back if he wanted any of the end result. “How can I do the next step when this one isn’t even done?”

With a look of annoyance shot over at him, Cora turned back to the bowl to try and save anything. In her opinion, it was too thick but according to someone, it was supposed to be like that. She swore that there were still clumps of flour in there still but they could have easily been raspberry bits.

Normally, either of the two werewolves would’ve been escorted out of the kitchen as soon as she stepped foot in it but since no one was there in the loft at that moment to stop them, muffins sounded like a great idea. If they happened to blow up the kitchen in the meantime… blame Derek for not watching them.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Isaac called over the sound of the mixer after he turned around to see the other pouring more milk into the batter. Taking the milk from her, he placed it on the counter behind him and took a look at the mixture that was now three quarters liquid.

"It was too thick! It wouldn’t turn properly in the thing," Cora tried to explain, waving her hand to the ‘thing’ that was now making milk spill over the bowl in little amounts.

Moving her over to stop the machine, Isaac pressed a button that he assumed cut the power only to have it speed up and, literally, fling batter over the two of them.

They both had a string of curses as well as petty insults thrown at each other coming out of their mouths as one fumbled around to turn the machine off without getting more batter thrown at them while the other had to find something to clean this up with without being hit by the batter that missed the other. It was a big ordeal just to do two simple tasks until someone- Isaac- managed to knock the left over flour off the counter and have it fall directly on Cora.

The girl went still for a second before lifting her hand to wipe some of the white powder out of her face and hair before looking of at Isaac with an eyebrow raised. Standing up before shaking out her hair, Cora grabbed the milk container and poured the contents of it all over Isaac. It only served to get more flour thrown at her and an egg or three thrown back at him.

For the next ten minutes, batter, milk, flour and anything they could get their hands on were thrown around, most of it landing on the walls and floor. When everything ran dry, Cora had been covered completely by flour and their batter, as well as other ingredients- she was pretty sure there were a couple raspberries down her shirt to- while the other werewolf had mostly milk seeping through his clothes and eggs in his hair. The two of them just stared at each other with amusement.

There’s a boy crying in the woods. Derek doesn’t know why he approaches him, but he does. He hasn’t had contact with humans in six years, not since the fire that killed his whole pack. The boy startles when he notices Derek and he stares. Wide, amber eyes, filled with tears. The boy reaches out a shaking hand and Derek pushes his muzzle against it, letting the boy know he won’t hurt him.

“Such a huge dog,” the boy says.

He’s not really a boy, a teenager, soon a man. Derek’s eyes flutter shut as the boy – man – scratches behind his ears.

“Good boy,” the teen mumbles. “What’s your name, huh? Are you lost? Where’s your owner?”

The boy is no longer crying and Derek feels uncomfortable with him asking about owners, as if Derek’s a regular dog. He’s a wolf, for crying out loud. He backs away from the teen and then runs back into the woods, the human too slow to catch up to him.

*

The second time Derek sees the boy, he’s not crying. He’s walking, a stick in his hand which he hits against tree trunks and bushes.

“Stupid, fucking…” he hears the boy mutter under his breath.

Derek follows him for almost a mile before it becomes clear to him that the boy is lost. They’re getting close to the old, burnt-down Hale house and Derek doesn’t want the boy to see it, so he approaches.

“Hey there,” the boy says after his first moment of surprise. “Are you lost too?”

Derek huffs at him and goes to walk to their right. When the boy doesn’t follow he huffs and turns to glare at the boy. The boy laughs and follows him then. The fact that Derek supposedly is a dog doesn’t stop the boy from talking to him. He tells Derek about his friend Scott who ditched him for a girl and his father, whose cholesterol the boy is worried about.

They reach the road and the boy laughs brightly – a sound Derek wouldn’t mind hearing again. His phone rings then, probably having had no reception in the woods.

“Stiles!” Derek can hear the man at the other end say.

“Dad, calm down, I just was out in the woods, I’m on my way back home now. Don’t worry. No, I wasn’t alone, I-”

Stiles turns around but Derek has already sneaked off into the bushes where the human won’t be able to see him. Stiles sighs and starts to trudge down the road towards the town.

Derek follows him the whole way. Hidden, of course.

*

The third time he sees Stiles, he’s once again crying. It’s in the Hale house and even if Derek’s walks quite often leads him to the Hale grounds, he’s never been inside. But now there’s crying in there and he recognizes Stiles’ voice cursing. He takes a deep breath of fresh air before going in through the broken, half-burned door. Stiles is in what used to be the living room. Derek stares at him, his leg has gone through the wooden floors, Derek can see blood under his knee.

“Shit,” Stiles swears and then sees Derek. “Hey, buddy, you don’t happen to have your owner around here, do you?”

Derek whines and creeps up to the boy, careful not to fall through the floor as well. He tries to scratch at the wood around the boy’s leg but to no avail. Stiles lies down on his back, hope obviously lost.

Derek doesn’t know how it happens, he hasn’t been human since his pack died, but suddenly he feels his paws change into hands and feet, his muzzle turns into a small, human nose, and his fangs recedes into blunt teeth.

“What the-?” Stiles swears as Derek groans from the transformation. “Derek… Hale?”

Derek doesn’t answer but breaks away the planks that holds Stiles’ leg hostage. Stiles talks to him, asks him questions. Derek doesn’t answer, too afraid to use his voice, to scare the boy away, though the boy doesn’t seem frightened at all. He picks Stiles up then and carries him all the way into town, glad it’s night and that no one sees a naked man carrying another, bleeding man. He leaves Stiles outside the hospital and changes back into a wolf.

“Wait!” Stiles calls after him and for some reason he stops. “Can I see you again?”

Derek makes a motion with his head that can be considered a nod.

*

The next time he sees Stiles, Stiles has brought him clothes, sweatpants and a t-shirt with the Sheriff’s department’s logo. Stiles turns away when Derek changes into human and puts on the clothes. He doesn’t know why he does it, he just knows that he doesn’t want the boy to cry, doesn’t want the boy to get hurt, doesn’t want the boy to be alone. Stiles smiles at him then, takes his hand and leads him to his home without ever letting go of his hand.

Isaac is going on his fifth consecutive hour in the public library, and the quiet of the building is starting to go from comforting to maddening. He drops his head, it makes a loud, dull noise against the wood in the otherwise silent library and it takes all he has not to cry or break something when he hears someone shush him from a few tables down. He stays like that, breathing and trying to convince himself that disappointing Derek by walking out without any new information would be significantly worse than risking actual death by boredom, when he notices a familiar gait and scent nearing.

He expects Danny to pass by, in fact he’s positive that he will. He’s positive Danny doesn’t even know who he is, but instead the footsteps stop directly across from him, at the other side of the table and just as Isaac looks up Danny drops a large, plain-looking book on the table. He’s looking at Isaac sort of expectant and maybe a little annoyed but still friendlier than he expected.

“I-” Isaac chokes out, confused “Can I help you with something?” He makes an effort to sound a little more cool and composed but he’s pretty sure his hair is a fucking mess from having been tugging on it frustrated for hours now, and he’s having a little trouble shaking the dazed look on his face so it might be a lost cause, overall.

“This is what you were looking for, isn’t it?”

“What?” Isaac asks, because what? Danny rolls his eyes and pulls back a chair before dropping himself into it with a long-suffering sigh. Isaac’s brain struggles to catch up with exactly what is going on.

“Information on settiano? Italian fae, they make you want things and control your subconscious? Pretty sure that’s what you guys have been looking for. Please tell me you’ve at least figured that much out.” Isaac feels his jaw literally stop but he’s definitely at a loss for a better response. Danny grins and it’s a little mocking but the edge to it isn’t cruel like Isaac expects from most people, it’s almost…flirty? But he’s pretty sure that has to be wishful thinking because he knows who and what he is and what people think of him. Danny’s a good guy, but he’s learned to expect the worst of people.

“You have figured that out, haven’t you?”

“Um, yeah.” Isaac manages, before clearing his throat and sitting up a little straighter. He pulls his hand through his curls anxiously and catches it when Danny’s eyes track the movement. He has to remind himself to focus, there are definitely bigger matters here than the potential of being flirted with. Like how the hell Danny knows that there’s a settiano in town, led alone that they exist.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the help, but how exactly did you know I was looking for this? Or, y’know, that this exists.” Danny raises a sardonic brow and scoffs.

“I know you’ve got Stilinski and Lydia running around doing all of your research, and it’s not like either of them are something to scoff at, but I’m feeling a little insulted right now. My intelligence has been seriously overlooked. I was busted for being a threat to national security before I even hit puberty and you all assumed I wouldn’t notice my best friend running around at night turning into a giant lizard?”

“I guess we were a little preoccupied.” Isaac says, voice considerably more grounded than he’s feeling about the situation. Danny grins again and this time it definitely makes something in his stomach flip.

“Guess so.” Isaac grins back and he gets so distracted thinking about how surreal this situation is and carefully not thinking about how he’s going to explain this to Derek that he almost doesn’t realise that it’s been about thirty seconds since either of them spoke and he’s still staring at Danny.

“Thanks. He says quickly “For the book.”

“No problem.” Danny shrugs. “But there is one thing I’d like in return.” For a split second when Danny’s eyes ghost over Isaac’s lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own Isaac is pretty sure he might experience a minor heart attack before Danny speaks again, leaning forward in his chair and giving him a broad smile accompanied by a light kick to his sneaker under the table.

Beacon Hills’ lush green slowly faded into the steel of the city, Los Angeles rushing by as they traveled farther down the coast. The blue of Stiles’ jeep stood out against the monotonous highway, the road never ending ahead of them.

“Will we ever get there?” Malia piped up from the backseat, leaning forward to peek her head in between Stiles and Lydia.

“Less than an hour, Mal,” Stiles replied, hazel eyes flicking down to his GPS as Malia groaned.

“It’s a six hour trip; what did you expect?” Mason said as she flopped back into her seat. He rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the slowly dying phone in his hands.  

“For it to go by quickly! Or quicker than this, at least.”

“You survived the trip to Mexico just fine.”

“That was different, Lydia!”

“How?”

“Guys!” Stiles exclaimed from the driver’s seat, the vein in his neck beginning to pop out. “Half an hour. We can survive half an hour.”

Malia huffed, fingering the fraying edge of her shorts as she stared out the window. The time passed slowly, excitement building as they approached Anaheim.

“About time!” Malia exclaimed as Stiles parked right near the front door of the hotel, just a spot away from Kira. “Felt like we’d never get here.”

“I’m guessing you had a fun trip?” Scott asked as he stepped onto the pavement, coming around to help Liam and Brett take their bags out of the trunk. Mason scoffed, earning a scowl from Malia.

“Let’s just get inside, okay? We can drop our bags off and then head out,” Lydia said, grabbing her duffels and leading the pack into the hotel.

They checked in, splitting off into the rooms they had booked.

“Can we get a move on here, please?” Stiles yelled, bursting into the girls’ room. “I haven’t been here since I was five, and I’d like to actually see the park today, you know.”

“Disneyland isn’t going anywhere anytime soon,” Lydia chided, walking past him to slide a few more items into her small backpack.

“How much stuff do you need? It’s a few hours, not an entire week!”

“One minute, okay?” Kira said, slinging her cross-body bag over her shoulder. Stiles groaned, walking out to join the boys down in the lobby.

“Just buy the tickets now,” he told them, waving his hand towards the counter near the receptionist’s desk. “We’ll be here forever if we wait for them.”

Scott and Stiles headed over to the counter, wallets at the ready.

“Hey, Mase?” Liam ventured, looking over from where he was leaning on the wall. “How long do you think the line for Splash Mountain will be?”

“At least an hour, dude, maybe two,” Mason replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Depends on what time we get there.”

“We’ll never have time to do everything, will we?” Liam asked dryly, resting his head on Brett’s shoulder.

“Not likely, babe,” Brett began. “But no one ever does.”

The squeak of sneakers on tile interrupted them, the girls finally emerging from their room.

“You got the tickets?” Kira asked, coming up to the group lounging by the door.

“They’ll be done in a bit,” Brett said, nodding his head towards where Scott and Stiles stood, the wall behind the counter covered in Disney decals, from princesses to superheroes and everything in between.

“So, who’s going to take one for the team and go on the Star Wars ride with Stiles?”

***

Disneyland was everything the pack had expected and more. As soon as they walked under the bridge and stepped into the park, it was like everything that had happened back home washed away. An almost tangible happiness surrounded them on all sides, the sheer joy of everyone in the park affecting them within seconds.

Immediately, Scott dragged everyone to the huge gift shop on Main Street, demanding that everyone get an ear hat to wear. The girls picked out matching Minnie ears, the headbands covered in sequins and glittering in the bright California sun. Stiles somehow managed to find Yoda-themed Mickey ears and put the hat on instantly, not even taking it off to pay. The other boys went with the classic characters, each getting a different one.

“So, what do we do first?” Malia asked, staring wide-eyed at Sleeping Beauty’s castle, taking in the magic of the park.

“Tomorrowland!” Liam exclaimed, pulling Brett along after him. The group laughed, running after the two to get in line for the Buzz Lightyear ride.

The day passed by in a whirlwind of rides and games and expensive, overly greasy food. They worked their way through the park, the time spent on rides making up for the hours spent waiting in lines. “It’s A Small World” was a favorite, the few minutes of pure air conditioning providing relief from the Southern California heat.

After an hour-long wait, Liam finally got to go on Splash Mountain, the entire pack getting drenched in seconds. Stiles brought everyone to a full stop at the Jedi Training Academy show, lighting up like a kid in a candy store as soon as the music blasted out of the speakers and the first Stormtrooper appeared. One by one, though, the pack slipped away for food and other rides, leaving Stiles and Kira to Darth Vader.

By the end of the night, everyone was exhausted, humans and werewolves alike. They had hit all of the most loved rides in the park, even stopping to take pictures with Mickey and Minnie along the way. Disneyland’s nighttime attractions were getting closer, and so began the rush to get to a good spot to see the shows.

“Stiles Stilinski, I am not leaving this park without seeing the fireworks!” Malia yelled, getting pushed around by the crowd as they walked back from the showing of Fantasmic.

“They start in two minutes; we’re not going to make it,” he countered, trying his best to tug her along.    

“I’m with Malia, here,” Mason chimed in from the back of the pack.

“Look, there’s space right up there!” Liam pointed over to a small open area between a few trees as they left Adventureland. They would be in center of Main Street, basically, but it was a spot nonetheless.

“C’mon!” Scott called, bursting through the throngs of parkgoers to carve out a space for the pack.

As everyone gathered together, the music began. Suddenly, the sky was bright with color, shining down onto the crowd below. Blue, white, green, red, purple, pink…a full rainbow. In true Disney fashion, there were even Mickey Mouse-shaped fireworks. The pack stared into the sky, the brilliant display reflected in their eyes.

Brett’s arms were wrapped around Liam’s shoulders, his chin resting on the top of the smaller boy’s head. Scott pressed a kiss to Kira’s temple, bringing her tightly into his embrace. Lydia’s fingers were intertwined with Stiles’, the two shuffling closer with each and every firework sequence. Malia and Mason stood off to the side, too busy marveling at the explosions in the sky to care about the others, each content in their own right.

Everyone was okay. Everyone was happy. For a moment, the past didn’t exist.

After the 17th time that Scott and Allison broke up, Scott wanted to get high, but of course Mr. Hufflepuff Pants was too scared to do it alone, so Stiles being the best friend a wolf could need agreed to get high with him.  Getting the drugs wasn’t actually as hard as he thought it might be, and within three days of Scott saying he wanted to do it, they had all they needed—well after stealing a little wolfsbane from Derek,not that Stiles would ever be willing to admit that.

After getting the pot, they hid in Stiles’s room, and Scott started to get nervous.

“I don’t know, man,” Scott said biting his nails.  “I just think— I mean—  Do you even know what you’re doing with the wolfsbane?”  Stiles groaned a little, rolling his eyes with his whole body.

“Are you serious right now?” He asked as he measured some of the mixture into the paper.  “Don’t you trust me?”  Scott balked.

“Of course I trust you,” he said.  “I just don’t—  I just don’t know about that…”  He pointed at the joint that Stiles had just rolled as he handed over to Scott as he started rolling his own.

“Trust me.  It’s fine.  You’ll be fine…”  He pulled out a lighter, and Stiles realized just how stupid this could be if they got caught, his dad being the Sheriff and all, but then Scott took it from his hand and took the first hit.  They were silent as they smoked their joints, too nervous to talk, but after a while, Stiles began to feel his joints loosening up.  Everything was getting lighter and farther away.  Scott’s eyes glazed over and he flopped on his back.

“This,” he said.  “This is good…”  Stiles nodded in agreement, scared to look up at Scott who looked hot with a joint in his mouth.

Time went by.

Eventually, Scott sat up.

“Do you smell that?” He asked.  Stiles scrunched his eyebrows together.

“Smell what?” Stiles replied.

“I don’t know…”  He got up and went down stairs where they found Stiles’s dad fixing dinner for himself.  A steak dinner.  Stiles felt his stomach fold a little.  It was his dad’s birthday and he’d forgotten.  He, Stiles, was the worst son on the face of the planet.  Scott entered the kitchen, unaware of the Sheriff leaving to get something from the other room as he sat down at the kitchen table where a $30 choice piece of meat sat.  Before Stiles could tell him no, Scott had picked up the meat and taken a large bite out of it.  Meat juice dribbled down his chin and Stiles lost his train of thought.  All he wanted was to lick the pinkish fluid and so he got up and did as Scott took his second bite.  The other boy smiled as Stiles sucked on his chin a little.  He swallowed the meat and pulled Stiles onto the table with a little growl just in time for the Sheriff to come back in.  He watched in horror as Scott started to rut into Stiles as he sat on the partially eaten steak.  Without a word, he turned and left the room, slammed the front door, and drove to the nearest Burger Time where he was going to get the biggest, fattest burger he could find.

Stiles looked up when he heard the door slam shut, and once again he was filled with guilt.

“Dude, get off!” Stiles grunted and shoved Scott off of him.

“What, did I hurt you?” Scott asked.  Stiles shook his head and got up.

“We just ate and then proceeded to make out on my dad’s birthday dinner.”  Stiles felt faint.

Scott split, too scared to be caught by the Sheriff high, and Stiles spent the next hour rushing around the house trying to find his dad’s old boombox, but he couldn’t find it.  It had apparently ceased to exist.  Somewhere in the midst of Stiles’s frantic searching, the Sheriff had returned with three orders of curly fries, and a triple cheeseburger, extra cheese, extra fried onions, and extra barbecue sauce.

Just as the Sheriff finished up his meal and fourth beer, Stiles gave up and found his phone and a portable speaker.  He went into the kitchen and set them on the floor.

“Dad, I just wanted to say…  I’m sorry for eating your dinner and then making out on it.  I hope you understand where this is coming from…”  He turned and started the song he’d queued on YouTube.  The Sheriff groaned as soon as he recognized the first notes, and as Stiles sang along, loudly and off key. “It must have been cold there in my shadow… To never have sunlight on my face…”

“What did I do to deserve this?” The Sheriff groaned as Stiles kept singing, eyes closed.

“Did you ever know that you’re my hero.  And everything that I would like to be?”  A door opened, and Stiles figured it was just Scott so he kept going.  “I could fly higher than an eagle.  You are the wind beneath my wings…”

“I don’t think you could get much higher,” Derek said.  Stiles opened his eyes to see Derek holding Scott by the ear.  “The next time you to chuckle heads think it’s a good idea to get high, maybe you don’t steal from your alpha who canfucking smell your scent!” His eyes glowed red and Stiles dropped to his knees, eyes down.  The Sheriff just groaned.

“I do not need this right now…” The Sheriff said with a sigh and Stiles felt sick.

“You’re not going to arrest us, are you?” He asked.  The Sheriff sighed.

“Maybe I should… What even were you thinking?”  Stiles bit his lip.

“It was my idea, sir,” Scott offered.  “I— I told him I wanted to get high…  He was just doing what I asked him to…”  Derek and the Sheriff shared a look as Derek shoved Scott to the floor.

“Both of you are grounded.  One week.  You two better kiss each other goodbye, because except for school, you’re not going to see each other for the next one-hundred and sixty-eight hours…” Derek said and the Sheriff began to laugh a little.

Derek took one look at the ID and rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. He looked up at the guy –kid– who had handed it to him. He grinned at Derek, amusement lighting his eyes. Confidence settled into the way he tilted his chin, showing off a smooth length of neck, and jutted one side of his narrow hips. Derek snapped his gaze up from those hips to the kid’s card. John Smith. Really? He must be drunk already, then, Derek thought, to think that an attempt this weak would get him past Derek at the door to Beacon Hill’s best nightclub.

Derek took another look at the card and put his whole head into the eyeroll this time. “Did you actually cut out a picture and paste it on here?” he asked, picking at the lamination with a fingernail.

“What?” the kid squawked. “No!”

He totally had. “How old are you? Sixteen?” Derek asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Sixteen?” He had the gall to look offended, with his obviously fake license in Derek’s hand.

“Get out,” Derek ordered. The kid flailed, but with one last look at unimpressed raise of Derek’s eyebrows (and a lingering up-down that made Derek blush), the kid got.

—

Derek rolled his shoulders, huffing out a breath that fogged up the air in front of him. The line was filled with shivering patrons desperate enough to get into Cora’s that they were willing to brave the freezing temperatures with bare legs and thin shirts. Derek was about to tell Boyd to draw up the most hypothermic looking of the bunch to let in when he saw a familiar face peer out of the crowd at him. He quickly dodged back in line, but Derek was already striding toward him.

“Hey, hey! I’m of age!” the kid protested when Derek pulled him out of line. He flailed in Derek’s grip. “Check my ID!”

“Is it as bad as your fake last time?” Derek asked as he transported him towards the parking lot.

The guy smiled up at him, and Derek blinked.  “You remember me,” he said, pleased. “That was weeks ago!”

Yes, okay, so Derek remembered him. It wasn’t like Derek <i>thought</i> about him all the time, or had managed to remember the exact placement of the moles that swept along his jawline. It wasn’t like that long stretch of neck and the bruises he could suck onto it featured in (most of) his fantasies. He didn’t think about the movement of those hips, or how they’d feel in his hands, under his – no, he didn’t. He didn’t because this kid’s ID might have said 21, but it had been the worst forgery Derek had seen in the months he’d been helping out at his sister’s new club and Derek wasn’t that kind of guy who did underage.

“I’m not a kid,” he said, twisting a little in Derek’s grip, “honest. Just look –”

“John, or whoever you actually are,” Derek started. The kid winced at the name. “I remembered you because you tried to get into my sister’s club with a fake. Her club that could easily lose its license if underaged kids are caught drinking inside. Understand? Now go home.” Derek didn’t watch his ass as he walked into the parking lot, pulling a cellphone from those tight pockets … Seriously, Hale?!

“Don’t let me see you here again!” he called for good measure.

—

“The streetname is Wolfsbane,” Cora said, downing a second shot. “According to the cops, it’s the newest phase in the club scene, and its put fifteen people in the hospital; seven of them after a night clubbing here.” She filled the shot again, generously.

“Fuck,” Derek said.

“Fuck indeed,” Cora replied, raising her shotglass in a bitter toast and tipping back to swallow it in one go.

“They can’t think you’ve got a part in this,” he argued.

Cora shrugged. “Does it matter?” she asked. “It’s happening, people are getting hurt, and we’re not stopping it. More than half of the people overdosing got that shit here.” Her face scrunched and she bit her lip hard, determined not to cry. “If we can’t find the dealer,” she said after a minute, her voice wavering, “they’re going to shut us down.” She looked up at him, smiled bitterly, and poured another shot.

—

Derek winced as he walked from Cora’s office, the thumping bass instantly reverberating through his ribcage, the music aggravating his tension headache. He was nearly vibrating with frustration, which was not the way to start a shift at the doors – nothing was more likely to cause a situation that the bouncers already being on edge. Instead, Derek planned to let Boyd know to call him if he was needed, and then sit in his car in the parking lot and calm down. He scanned the dancefloor quickly on his way out and froze. He was not in the mood for this, not tonight. He stalked down, dancers moving out of his way until he reached John, dancing with his back against another guy, the guy’s hands low and curled on his hips. Derek could guess his expression; the dancing partner took one look at his face and disappeared into the crowded dance floor, leaving John stumbling. He looked around the dancefloor, mouth open in surprise before he caught sight of Derek and his mouth snapped shut.

“Listen –” he started, but Derek simply grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him forward. John stumbled forward, grabbing Derek’s wrist to steady himself.

“You can’t do this shit,” Derek said, over the music, leaning close to be heard by him. The kid’s eyes were wide, mouth open in surprise and Derek should have been too done to notice the way his pink lips parted, dammit. “Do you –”

The kid’s gaze had been flicking around this room, avoiding Derek’s, when it suddenly set upon something behind him. Derek felt his body still under his hands as his shoulders settled back and his back straightened. Despite himself, Derek twisted to look at what had caught the kid’s attention. Against the half-wall separating a lounge area from the rest of the club leaned a smirking blond, his chest thrust out, one arm draped along the polished wood of the barrier he leaned against. The lights flashed across him and the two girls in skin-tight jeans standing with him, but even so, Derek could see him pass a second baggie of purple powder and take their money with a smarmy grin. “Fuck,” Derek snapped. “Stay here,” he ordered the kid over his shoulder as he stalked toward the group. This was the little shit putting all the work Cora had put into this place at risk, who had put seven people in the hospital and was grinning about it. The girls scurried out of his way when he grabbed the guy by the collar and pulled him off the wall. The dealer immediately went for a swing, which Derek dodged, pulling him around by the collar, and pushing him against the barrier. Something hit him across the side of the head and splintered, knocking him to the side. He blinked something out of his eyes as pain throbbed in his head. He hadn’t noticed that the dealer had a partner, obviously. He had hit him with a thankfully fragile barstool, and now brandished the fractured leg. The blond leapt the barrier and made a run towards the bathrooms. Patrons on the top level scurried out of his way, one girl shrieking as she was knocking to the ground in his rush to flee. Derek stepped back to avoid another swing of the fractured leg brandished at him, but his attacker didn’t get a chance to hit him. John appeared from the side, grabbing his arm twisting back, to the side, forcing him to drop the weapon. Using his weight, John pushed him into the wall, winding him so he could grab hold of his other wrist, pulling them together behind his back.

He grabbed a pair of handcuffs from a belt concealed under his shirt and fastened them expertly.

“You OK?” he asked Derek, who just stood and stared at him.

“What the fuck?” he asked, and the kid just laughed at him, pulling the dealer up.

“No kidding!” he shouted back. “I told you I wasn’t a kid!”

—

His badge ID – obviously not a fake – gave his name as Officer Stilinski. His partner was a tiny redhead Derek wouldn’t mess with, after seeing her take down the fleeing blond dealer with brutal efficiency. With both of the dealers, and the two girls they’d sold to, put away in cruisers waiting outside, Cora had thanked the officers and sent them on their way. As they climbed inside, Stilinski looked over the car roof and caught Derek’s eye, smiling wryly.

The next week, Derek looked up from checking IDs to see them both standing there in line.

“We’re not here on business,” Officer Martin – “Lydia, please” – said when Derek approached them. He pulled them, and their group of friends from line, ushering them all to the doors.

“You don’t have to wait in the cold,” he said over their good-natured protests on line-cutting. “The two of you saved Cora’s club.”

“We would have caught them sooner,” Lydia said primly, “had my partner not managed to get blocked at the door every single time.”

Derek blushed, but refused to acknowledge it. Shrugging, he said, “That ID was godawful.”

“I don’t know why we trusted Greenburg to make the fakes,” Stilinski replied innocently. The rest of the group groaned.

“You didn’t have to use a fake,” Lydia said, deadpan.

“How many chances for undercover work are there in Beacon Hills?” Stilinski retorted. “I wanted to do it right. Damn Greenburg.”

As they milled in the entrance, Stilinski sidled closer to Derek.  “Told you I wasn’t sixteen,” he said.

“Shut up,” Derek shook his head.

Stilinski laughed, tilting his head back, giving Derek another good look at that long, biteable, of age neck. “So do my amazing heroics means you’ll start letting me in the club?” he asked, grinning cheekily.

Derek returned the smile. “If you’re here, as a returning hero, no less, I guess you’ll have to let me buy you a drink.”

“I’d like that,” he said, biting his lip. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“Stiles Stilinski?” Derek asked. “That has to be fake.”

“No –”

“Let me see your ID again.”

“Come on –” Stiles complained, still laughing, twisting away as Derek tried to catch the hand holding his ID.

“What’s your phone number? I’ve obviously got to call and confirm.”

“Oh, bouncer thinks he’s got game, huh?” Stiles let him grab his wrist and stepped closer. “Come in for that drink and the number’s yours.”

Four-year-old Emma McCall-Stilinski pouted her lip as she sat in her spot in her room with her pink tea set perfectly done and her dollies and stuffed animals were tucked behind little chairs that were barely big enough to fit a Barbie doll.

"Emma," an adult Stiles warned.

But the little girl shook her head defiantly. “No, don’t wanna.”

"Emma, it’s time for a bath and then bed time."

"Ten more minutes."

Stiles smirked. He remembered when he was her age and asked for ten more minutes so he could play with his Batman action figures. Ten minutes usually evolved into twenty and then up to an extra hour and the next morning, he’s in a cranky mood. Emma was an amazing combination of both of her fathers. She was a sweet, innocent little angel like Scott was at her age, and yet she always seemed to have this devious glint in her eyes that was just so Stiles. Even if she wasn’t biologically his, she definitely seemed to take after him more often than Scott.

"I gave you ten more minutes already," Stiles said matter-of-factly. "Time for your bath and then bedtime."

The little brat groaned overdramatically. She was definitely a Stilinski. “But daddy …”

"If you hurry up, then papa will read you a bedtime story."

Emma’s face lit up. Papa told the best stories, full of magic and adventure and werewolves. She was too young to know that werewolves were real and Scott and Stiles weren’t even sure if she would be a born werewolf or not since Scott was a turned werewolf.

The girl jumped up and raced her daddy to the bathroom where she got all cleaned up in record time before pulling her pajamas on and waiting for Papa to come in with his big book of bedtime stories.

"Scott," Stiles called out from his spot on Emma’s bed, her little head tucked under his arm. "Hurry up, she’s ready."

"I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying," Scott replied as he walked in. He was holding a wide book with a brown leather cover. It was a special book that Lydia had made especially for Emma, having given it to her on her third birthday. Unbeknownst to Emma, Lydia had placed a special enchantment on it, so that as many fables and fairy tales as possible could fit in the few pages it had. Scott was extremely grateful for it, although Stiles was annoyed that they were exposing "too much supernatural stuff" in front of Emma. But even now at thirty-one, he still couldn’t say no to Lydia Martin.

"So, what do you want to read first?" Scott suggested as he squeezed himself into bed with his daughter and husband. "How about Little Red Riding Hood?"

"No, we read that already."

"Little Mermaid."

"I want a ‘big girl’ story."

Scott curled his lip in thought. “Hm, ‘big girl’, huh?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, have you been behaving like a big girl?”

"Yes!" Emma scrunched her face up. She looked exactly like Scott did when his mom told him that Stiles couldn’t come over for a sleep over that night when they "accidentally" set the garage on fire.

"Really? So, you weren’t the one who ate all of the cookies that I had just bought today?" He eyed with a knowing smile on his face.

But Emma shook her head, no. “That was daddy.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped and Scott guffawed. “There’s no loyalty in this house!” Stiles glowered at his young daughter. “We agreed to never snitch on each other.”

"Stop teaching our daughter to lie, babe," Scott smirked. "Okay, Emma, I’ll read you a ‘big girl’ story."

His daughter waved her hands in the air. “Yay!”

Scott chuckled as he brushed a strand of curly black hair out of her face and opened the book. “I think I know exactly the kind of story you want to hear.”

"Scott …" Stiles said warningly. "We agreed."

The stories that Scott usually told were sometimes in the point of view of the residents of Beacon Hills. While close to none of those stories were what really went on in their little town—because as Gandalf once said, “All good stories deserve a little embellishment”, even though Scott had no idea who that was because Stiles was the fandom geek between the two—there were some truths to them. Like who ended up with who in those stories …

"Can’t hurt. Maybe I can tell her about the time you and Jackson had a thing." That devious grin he had. Stiles was almost proud. Almost.

The scandalized look on his face practically had Scott in tears. “You swore you’d never speak of such things.” That pure mischief etched all over his face. No wonder Stiles was in love with him. “Well, how about the time you and Derek were a thing.”

But Scott wasn’t fazed. “Or you and Derek.” He looked so incredibly smug.

Stiles’ jaw dropped as he let out the most over-the-top gasp that would put soap opera actors to shame. “I can explain! I had too much vodka and I felt that day and for once, Derek didn’t look like a hobo. And it was only a handjob.”

"Hello," Scott scolded, jerking his head at their daughter who was staring curiously at her fathers.

He smiled down at her. “I’ll tell you what, Emma, I’ll read you a few stories and then it’s bedtime.”

"Yay!" Emma cooed as she snuggled herself in deep with her fathers.

"Okay," Scott began as he turned a few of the pages. "Let’s see what we can cook-up. Oh, you’ll love this one." He winked at Stiles knowingly, who did nothing but scowl. "It’s got magic and werewolves and everything." Emma was completely under his spell, engrossed in his every word.