Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

After trying for two hours to shift back to his completely human form, he had given up and everyone had gone back to their respective homes. It was with much relief that Stiles woke up the next day 100% pale and nerdy-looking sans giant fox ears. He really needed to get complete control over his change. He couldn’t exactly go to sleep every time he wanted to reset his status from enhanced werecreature-with-big-ears to au-naturale human.

Despite this little bump in the road, Stiles had managed to wheedle his dad into letting him go back to school that day. Since his change wasn’t hugely controlled by the moon or anger, Stiles wanted to see how he would fare among more people. The rest of the Pack had promised to stay by his side, so it wasn’t like it was a big risk.

By lunch break, he was cursing his excellent persuasion skills.

The shift into his fox form had obviously brought all his senses screaming to life. His hearing was amazing, but at least he had better control over that now, able to tune into one thing and filter out most everything else. But his nose was in overdrive, and he had to try hard not to flinch away from anyone wearing perfume or cologne. The combination of alcohol, jasmine, roses, sandalwood, musk, ocean salt, and the myriad other things in artificial scents drove him crazy. He could hardly focus in class since his eyes and instinct latched onto every single movement in his periphery. His brain refused to stay on one track, jumping from the board, to the ticking in the lights, the smell of teenage musk, the crinkle of paper under his own hand, Greenberg’s constant pen clicking…he was starting to feel fizzled out by the time he stumbled into the cafeteria.

“How do you guys do this?” moaned Stiles, pillowing his head on the table. It was bad when he didn’t even feel hungry, just stretched thin and scattered.

Scott scratched his head. “I wasn’t distracted by all those things. I mainly had problems when I was just…angry.”

Isaac shrugged. “It was the same with me.”

“Urgh, I don’t feel angry. I just want to…chase all the things. Or hide from all the things. I don’t even know. I feel so twitchy,” Stiles whined, clawing at the table weakly with his still human fingers.

Erica commented between bites of her chicken, “I felt horny when I first changed. Maybe you just need to jerk off.”

Scott choked on his apple juice and through some miracle, managed not to spray Jackson with his mouthful. He swallowed between spluttering, red-faced with shock. Jackson gave him an evil glare, warning him silently of certain death if Scott didn’t keep his drink in his mouth.

“No one wants to hear about your lonely masturbation, Erica,” said Lydia. Just like how Scott and Jackson couldn’t seem to help their subconscious struggle for dominance over the other, it was the same with Lydia and Erica. Except maybe less subconscious and with more evil purpose.

“Bitch, everyone wants to hear about it,” said Erica with a slow, red-lipped smile that spoke of dirty, dirty bedroom things.

Stiles sighed without even lifting his head. “Hello, guys, for once, this is actually about me, not any of you. And I already did, Erica, thanks for the advice.”

Jackson growled, “We really don’t want to hear about you and what you get up to alone, limp dick.”

“Stop fantasizing about my dick,” said Stiles with half-hearted annoyance.

Jackson was about to reach over and try to rip his throat out when Scott leaned in and hugged Stiles from the side.

“Woah, dude.” But Stiles didn’t get much further than this short protest before Scott had him completely wrapped up. Then Scott pulled him in so that his face rested between Scott’s neck and shoulder.

“Breathe in slowly,” said Scott, more a rumble in Stiles’ ears.

He did and he suddenly felt his nose latching on to the familiar scent of boy sweat, grass, dogs and cats, wild and urban at the same time. It was Pack.

By the time he pulled back, his mind was a lot quieter, and he suddenly felt like he was processing his surroundings again, instead of just being battered from all sides by everything. He didn’t even care that they drew a few stares with the sudden hug, which probably lasted more than fifteen minutes considering how people were leaving the cafeteria. Wow, time flew when he was being cuddled.

“Scott, I never thought I would say this, but you’re a genius,” breathed out Stiles in quiet relief. “How did you know to do that?”

“Derek told me that close contact might help. It always makes me feel better when I use your bed in your house while we’re studying because everything smelt familiar. So I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try it.”

Allison looked like she was half a second from hugging Scott, with the way she was dimpling at him and stroking his shoulder. Stiles totally knew how she felt. His usually clueless friend was growing brains. He felt moved and proud at the same time.

“Thanks, man. It totally worked,” said Stiles, giving Scott a fist bump.

Boyd got up from the table, laying a hand on Stiles’ shoulder as he walked by. “Alright, guys. Time to go before we’re late.”

It was like Scott’s hug opened the dam to constant physical affection, and Stiles let the Pack sooth away his tension all day with spontaneous hugs, fist bumps, manly back pats and casual shoulder nudges.

Later in the afternoon, he heard a familiar heartbeat in the car park. His mind slowed to a complete calm, falling into the easy rhythm of learning that he had always loved. The comforting, steady rhythm stayed there for an hour, before moving slowly away again. Stiles felt almost completely normal for the rest of his day at school.

Banging in through his front door, Stiles made a beeline to the kitchen and the Holy Grail that was his fridge. He dropped his bag on the floor and started digging around for the ingredients to a delicious sandwich. In a matter of minutes, he was trying to extract ham, cheese, avocado, butter and a cucumber from the fridge without dropping anything. He was just straightening up with his armful of food items when he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. The faintest scraping sound scratched across his ears — rubber soles against floorboards — and he whirled around.

All the food went flying as he was pinned against the fridge, his hands coming up in reflex to push away his attacker. He bared his teeth and claws sank into broad shoulders before he recognized the scent and stupidly handsome face.

“What the fuck, Derek?” demanded Stiles.

Derek didn’t flinch despite Stiles’ sharp claws sunk into his skin and flesh. “You need to use your senses better.”

Stiles glared, pulling his hands free and making a disgusted face at the blood under his claws. He wiped it on Derek’s T-shirt. “You attacked me just to test my hearing? I just fucking turned less than a week ago. Cut me some slack.”

“And to test your control over your fox-side. Your ears are out again,” pointed out Derek, making a face at the bloodstains on his T-shirt. He didn’t even look at the small claw wounds on his shoulders as they were already healing up. He also didn’t back off from his position well within Stiles’ comfort zone.

Stiles said, “My fox side came out, because I heard something creeping around behind me. It’s defense. You can’t growl at me for not hearing your creeping, and then growl at me for hearing your creeping and reacting.”

Derek leaned closer, heavy brows coming together in an angry frown. “The problem is that you aren’t paying attention to what you’re hearing, even though your hearing is ten times better than a werewolf’s. What’s going to happen when some idiot sneaks up on you in school as a prank? Or someone comes to pat you on the back a little too fast? You’re going to turn into a fox in the middle of school?”

Derek…had a point. But his method of execution left a lot to be desired. It was too much like Scott’s early werewolf days all over again, where Derek seemed to think that growling and intimidation made for a great teacher. At least he wasn’t tossing teenagers around now, expecting them to magically gain werewolf skills. But it still pissed Stiles off that every time he entertained tentative, good thoughts about Derek, this type of shit happened all over again.

“I’m trying, okay? I just found out that I turn into a fox last night, and it’s the first day back at school today. You couldn’t give me one freaking day to settle down first before scaring me so badly that I just lost my perfectly good meal all over the floor? I know regular meals are optional to you, but think about the rest of us lowly, non-Alphas in your Pack. We need sustenance,” snapped Stiles.

Alright, so half his anger was also due to hunger. He was starving and now there was wasted food on the kitchen floor. It wasn’t like the Stilinski family stocked a lot of food in the house, so there wasn’t much left to make a sandwich.

Derek growled and pinned him harder against the fridge. “I think about my Pack. This is me thinking about how to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a funny way of showing it!”

Stiles tried to shove back to no avail. They might be the same height, but Derek was much broader and densely built. He pinned Stiles across the shoulders with ease, and it was only then that Stiles realized how close they were standing together. His knees and thighs were pressed in place by Derek’s, and he could feel Derek’s breath against his face. He couldn’t help it; his eyes flickered down to Derek’s lips at the thought. They were parted, as if ready to start snarling again. When he wrenched his eyes back up to Derek’s eyes, the clear hazel color was tinged red near dilating pupils. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming to the same rhythm’s as Derek’s, imagined he could feel Derek’s pulse through his chest and not just in his ears.

Then the sound of a familiar car pulling up onto his driveway jerked the two of them out of the intense stare. Derek pulled away and Stiles straightened up from the fridge.

“Your fox side retreated,” said Derek quietly.

Stiles touched his ears and realized they were round, human ears again. He wondered when that happened, and how he could trigger a similar change in the future.

“Stiles, you in there?” his dad called from outside.

Stiles brushed past Derek as he headed for the front door. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Nope,” said Derek, because he was an asshole.

Stiles growled as he stormed out of the house. The low, wordless threat emerging from his throat surprised him enough that he stumbled down the front steps and blinked blearily in the late afternoon light at his dad.

“What’s up,” he said to his dad, trying to cover his embarrassment. His anger was fast fading, now that he was away from Derek. Something about the guy never failed to rev him up, sparking strong emotion with the least amount of effort.

His dad opened the back door of his patrol car. “We’re getting rid of some old books from the station’s private library. I thought you would like first pick before we started a book sale. It’s mostly about criminology, so that should appeal to a budding criminal like you.”

“Haha, dad,” said Stiles, eyeing the giant box teetering off the backseat with greed.

“Take it in then,” said his dad, already heading for the door.

“Thanks for the helping hand,” called out Stiles. “Why did you bring it home? I could have dropped in at the station.”

His dad was inside the house already so Stiles sighed and pulled the box out. Damn, it was heavy! He staggered under the weight and wobbled a bit before he got a good grip on the wide box. Then he stumbled into the house, trying not to trip over anything as he could barely see over the box. He finally lowered the box slowly onto the living room floor. He stretched out his arms over his head and raised his eyebrows at his dad.

“That’s a lot of books,” he said.

His dad smiled. “You don’t know half of it. It took three big burly men to carry that out to my car, and they barely made it. Congratulations, you’ve got enhanced strength out of the deal after all.”

Derek chose this moment to come in from the kitchen. “Less than an average werewolf, more than a regular human.”

Stiles gaped at his dad. “That was a test? Were there even books in there, or did you just fill it with rocks?”

His dad said, “You don’t think my men would find it strange that I’m asking them to carry rocks around in a box? Of course there are books in there. I just didn’t pack them all into smaller boxes.”

“What is this, Test Stiles Day?” grumbled Stiles, but not letting this discovery get in the way of his curiosity as he knelt down to open the box.

“Something else happened?”

Derek explained, “Yeah, I tested his ability to withstand surprise without shifting.”

His dad said wryly, “I can guess that it didn’t go well. Stiles hardly withstood surprise well even before he was bitten.”

“He’ll do better with more training.”

“I guess I should start sneaking up on him too.”

“I don’t think I like the two of you ganging up on me,” said Stiles as he sifted through the first few hardcover books. No wonder the box had been so heavy. He really should have realized that he wouldn’t have been able to carry a box that large filled with books on his own if he didn’t have supernatural strength now. Did werecreature powers reduce IQ points? That would so explain Scott and Derek’s lack of strategizing skills.

His dad squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll appreciate it when you aren’t locked up as a science experiment by the age of twenty-one.”

“What happens after twenty-one?” asked Stiles, squinting up at his dad.

“You’re on your own, kiddo,” he said with a grin. “Can’t coddle you forever, you know.”

“I’m feeling the parental love,” said Stiles as he started removing books from the box to read their cover jackets.

His dad nudged him in the side with a knee. “Hey, don’t make a mess in the living room. You’ll take ages to decide, so take the box up to your room and do it there. Consider it exercise.”

Sighing, Stiles packed the books back into the box and hefted it up. He smiled at how cool it was to be stronger than normal now and headed for the stairs.

“You get to pick ten,” said his dad.

Stiles called over his shoulder, “Come on, dad, ten? That’s nothing—”

His dad continued over him, “And when you’re done, head up to the attic and get the old study desk down here, would you?”

“The desk you put up in the attic with aims to restore it eventually?” asked Stiles halfway up the stairs. “The desk that has been accumulating dust for years?”

“The very same. I think it’s beyond saving now, and I’ve been meaning to throw it away. Now that I have a conveniently superpowered son to carry it down…”

Stiles yelled down, “This is abuse of my supernatural abilities! I didn’t sign up to be a werefennec-fox slave!”

“Save the dramatics for someone who didn’t raise you from a baby,” called up his dad. “And stop yelling. We’re not barbarians here.”

Grumbling to himself, Stiles went to his room with his box of books. He put it down and sat down on his bed to start going through their blurbs. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. Might as well wait for dinner at this rate. He would pick out twenty books and hope he could persuade his dad to let him keep that many instead of just ten. The station could probably do with more petty cash from selling the books, and Stiles’ bookshelves were creakingly full, but twenty books weren’t that many, right?

“I didn’t realize that cleaning service was part of an Alpha’s role.” Stiles blinked as he realized that he was listening in on his dad’s voice downstairs. He was better at controlling himself at school, but around his dad and Derek, it was just too easy to zoom in on their conversations and heartbeat without conscious thought.

Derek’s voice came in loud and clear. “I was the one to surprise him. He’s forgotten about all this anyway.”

Oops. That must be the ingredients for his sandwich scattered around the kitchen floor. He stood up to head downstairs, because while it was Derek’s fault, Stiles’ dad probably wouldn’t see it that way. He could hear Derek moving around the kitchen, probably picking up the mess.

“You’re doing alright with Stiles,” his dad said, causing Stiles to freeze. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for him.”

“He’s Pack,” said Derek, simple and straightforward, like that explained everything.

“Yes, and he’s my son. So as his father, I’m obligated to acknowledge the effort you’re putting in to help keep him safe,” his dad said.

Derek answered, “It’s the least I could do.”

His dad said with obvious amusement, “Alright, I won’t dissuade you from thinking that way if it benefits Stiles.”

Ever the practical one, his dad. Stiles felt rather pleased to hear the bonding moment between his dad and Derek.

After a short moment of silence, Derek said, “He won’t be able to pick just ten books.”

Stiles pouted at no one in particular in his room. He didn’t think Derek would realize that.

“I know,” said his dad, which caused Stiles’ jaw to drop.

“Then why did you say ten?” asked Derek, echoing Stiles’ thoughts.

His dad chuckled. “Because he’ll come up with the most outrageous reasons to choose twenty instead. It always makes for good entertainment when there isn’t anything good on TV.”

Derek actually chuckled at this.

Stiles was outraged. Betrayed by his own kin! Just for that, Stiles was going to choose thirty books to keep, before letting himself be bargained down to twenty. But only twenty and no less; just for what they said! His dad was going to have to work for this. He headed back to the box of books and started going through them with renewed vigor. Derek could clean up the mess on his own.

Twenty minutes later, Stiles said to his empty room, “I can hear your not-so-quiet footsteps, Derek.”

Derek stepped up to his doorway from around the corner, dropping the deliberately quiet approach. “Good. You’re learning.”

“I’ve always been a fast learner,” Stiles said as he grinned up at Derek.

They stared at each other awhile longer than necessary. Then Stiles’ dad was calling up and asking about the old study desk, and Stiles had to go do some heavy lifting. Derek didn’t offer to help, only called out suggestions like an irritating backseat furniture-mover.

By the time the weekend rolled around, Stiles was feeling less like a constantly hungry, bundle of overwhelming energy stuffed into a small human body and more like just a small human in a small human body. And he should never ever say that out loud, because it made no sense.

“You’re so adorable, I don’t know if I can handle it,” said Allison, flopping down on the ground to hug Stiles.

His control in his human form was getting steadily better what with all the surprise attacks being sprung on him by Derek and the Pack, but now Derek wanted him to work on controlling his changes and his abilities in his other forms. It wasn’t easy, since it had taken him an hour just to shift into his complete fox form.

“Hey!” Scott looked betrayed, but Allison was too busy patting Stiles behind his ears to notice. Laying his head on Allison’s thigh for more scratches, Stiles shot Scott a smug look.

Boyd shook his head. “That’s just wrong. Where’s your dignity?”

Stiles flicked an ear at Boyd, which earned a giggle from Allison and more pats. Lydia, who had tried so hard to look unmoved by his new form, knelt down and started patting his back.

“He’s like a dog-size fox, and yet, still so ridiculously cute,” said Lydia, sounding almost offended even as she dug her fingers into his thick scruff. He shivered and rumbled with pleasure. “Is he purring again?”

They all fell silent for a moment, listening to the low, constant vibration.

Isaac laughed, rolling off the couch onto the floor. He laid his head on Stiles’ back to hear the rumble from up-close. “Stiles, you’re completely shameless. It’s like a warm, furry engine here.”

“Lydia, stop patting Stiles. That’s just disgusting,” said Jackson, sounding immeasurably annoyed.

She merely shot him a contrary look and curled an arm around Isaac and Stiles.

“Aw, you’re still the resident pretty boy, even if the girls like Stiles better right now,” said Erica with faux sincerity.

Stiles made a chuffing sound in amusement, appreciative as always of Erica’s sass when it was directed at someone else. He stretched out on his side under Lydia’s and Isaac’s weight, wondering if he should abandon his dignity altogether to beg for a belly rub. He wasn’t sure if he would like it, but it would be nice to find out.

His vision blacked out suddenly when something big landed on him, startling the other two off him. He yipped and twisted off Allison’s lap, scrambling around whatever it was that was twisted around him, covering his face. Oh my god, he was caught, trapped, someone had trapped him, what were they going to do, no—

Oh wait. It smelled like Derek, woodsy and earthy with a touch of spice, the tang of hot metal. That calmed him down. Not the smell, of course, no, not that, Derek didn’t calm him down. But if it smelled like Derek, then it wasn’t dangerous. And likely, it was Derek that had launched it on him. He shoved his head around until his snout and eyes were out from beneath the fabric. When he could see again, he realized it was a towel. He growled in displeasure at Derek who was standing behind the couch with his arms crossed. He was wearing his infamous bitch face.

“Change back.”

Derek was allergic to fun and all things nice. Huffing, Stiles curled up in the towel instead, burying his face under it again.

“Stiles,” growled Derek. “It took you an hour just to turn into the fox. You need more practice gaining control over your shifts.”

Argh… All week, it was all about suppressing the fox in him so that he wouldn’t inadvertently change at school. Now, it was all about shifting. Why did Derek have to ruin everything? Stiles whined and pawed at the towel instead, rubbing his back against Allison’s legs in hopes of more pats.

Derek snapped, “Everyone out.”

He had put a little Alpha in his voice, and everyone was scrambling to their feet. Stiles started belly crawling out of the towel towards the door, but Derek started growling low in his throat, a threatening sound that shouldn’t be coming out of a still-human throat. Stiles stilled and flattened his ears back against his head, even though they weren’t visible with the towel over him.

“You’re going to be okay, Stiles?” asked Scott, who never did learn to properly fear Derek.

Stiles huffed and gave a short bark. It wasn’t like Scott could really understand him in this form, but the lack of distress was obvious. Scott left him to Derek’s less than gentle mercy.

Derek lifted the towel off his head and threw it over his lower body instead.

“Now. Shift,” said Derek, eyes glowing red.

Stiles whined.

It took another hour and a lot of growling from Derek and meditation from Stiles — God, he hated meditation — for him to shift back into a human. He stood there awkwardly with a towel around his waist and sulked in the cold. Derek no longer lived in his creepy, burnt house, but he still used it for training. The property seriously lacked the proper insulation against the brisk autumn air.

“Urgh, why is this so hard?” said Stiles, tucking the towel into place. He really wanted to put on some clothes since he wasn’t exactly comfortable being naked around Derek McMuscles, but it would be a waste of time when Derek wanted him to shift into his fox form again.

Derek crossed his arms, looking impatient. “Your shift isn’t as motivated by anger or high emotion. Most werewolves find it easier to shift after the first change, but you haven’t found the right trigger yet.”

Stiles mused aloud, “I think it was easier during the full moon. The moment I was startled, I shifted into a full fox form. The pack patted me, and I shifted back into my in-between state. This time, no amount of pack cuddles triggered a return to my human form.”

“You feel the full moon’s pull to some extent, just not as much as the rest of us. It’s no surprise, since you’re a shifter made by a werewolf bite,” pointed out Derek.

“Huh,” Stiles pondered. “You’re not actually bad at this werewolf mentoring thing, you know? A little patience and less pushy domineering, and you could totally make a great wolfcoach.”

Derek growled low in his throat in response.

Stiles’s heart tripped at the sound, but he shook his head. “Nope, sorry, you do that too often, and now I’m used to it. No trembling, sweating, knee-weakening fear from me.”

Those red eyes flashed at him. “You never did respond properly to fear.”

It was somewhat true. He babbled and flailed, but there was a big part of him that always pushed back and waved a red flag in the face of terror. When confronted with werewolves, crazed witches and aggressive hunters, he couldn’t suppress his inner asshole reaction, even when that had resulted in less than stellar responses. Thanks, Gerard and that psycho omega wolf that had clawed him up.

“Maybe it’s cause you’re not that scary,” said Stiles, exemplifying his problem when faced with intimidating night creatures.

Derek’s mouth curved into a grin. What should be a normal, friendly smile just looked toothy and fuck, very menacing on Derek, predatory even. “Stiles, I think we should go for a run.”

Stiles blinked rapidly. “A— A run? Okay, let me just, uh, let me get my clothes and—”

“Right now,” said Derek, his eyes gleaming with preternatural bloodlust. “Think about the fox while we go. I’ll give you a ten second head start.”

Despite his words, he was prowling forward towards Stiles, his shoulders slinking in a way that said that his wolf was seconds from pouring out of his skin. Stiles skittered backwards, edging towards the front door. “I, I don’t know if I’m all for naked running, just so you know, I don’t think it’s a good idea, it’s flu season, and I really don’t want to weaken my immune system to catch anything you know how that is or maybe you don’t know, oh my God, stop walking at me—”

Derek didn’t stop prowling forward. Were his, oh yes, they were, his canines were definitely elongating. He did a familiar crack of his neck that signaled his imminent change, before saying around his fangs, “One.”

Stiles turned tail and fled the house. He hit the treeline less than a second later, realizing that he had put on a burst of supernatural speed. Which was great, because he definitely needed it. Fuck, he just realized that he had dropped his towel and probably mooned Derek on the way out of the house. He imagined his pasty ass running away was like a bullseye target and whimpered at the thought of the stupid sight he must have made.

His ears picked up the quiet but distinct sound of four paws bounding on the ground, a quiet growl closing in behind him. Stiles’ heartbeat tripled, and he threw himself up a slope, pushing himself off a formation of rocks. Adrenaline surged through him, and his blood was pounding in his ears as his body twisted and roiled in mid-air, limbs shifting as the world expanded around him. He hit the ground on four paws, running at full speed.

Stiles widened the gap between them with the shift. Unlike his first full moon, he wasn’t just filled with blank, animalistic instinct to run away. Now, he could actually feel the wind against his fur, every grain of sand against his sensitive paws, and the animals in the woods fleeing the two predators. He didn’t feel just like prey, he felt like a hunter as well. A predator playing with another predator, and it was amazing.

He dashed between brush, squeezing into places with thicker undergrowth to slow Derek’s advance. He twisted and dodged through the woods, trying to widen the gap between Derek and himself. While Derek was more experienced, Stiles was faster and nimble on his feet. A rabbit rushed away from the bush, and he felt a spike in his blood, instincts suddenly revving up with thoughts of chasechasechase. He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the way his head swung in the rabbit’s direction, body angled a little off track.

It was enough of a distraction for Derek to pounce at him. Stiles twisted to the side, missed being caught by giant paws, and bounced right off the ground several feet into the air. Derek’s second swipe missed him again, and he launched himself off a tree, and over Derek in full-wolf form. Now he was leaping in the direction from which they just came, Derek right at his heels. Derek tried to jump on him, but he twisted and circled, leapt and dodged like he was a freaking acrobat. It was insane how his body could move and bend, how quickly he went with hardly any thought.

He was running helter-skelter, not really using his wiles anymore, just listening to his thrumming blood and excitement of the chase. Derek snapped at his tail, and he bounded to the side. But the feint didn’t work, and maybe he was delighting too much in the jump, enjoying the weightless moment in the air, because Derek slammed into him from the side. They crashed to the grassy ground, tumbling and rolling. Stiles screamed, high-pitched and loud in surprise, and wriggled and rolled under the heavy bulk pinning him down. But Derek had a hold on him, and he wasn’t letting go.

Stiles was on his back, with Derek’s massive jaw closed around his throat. Instinctively, Stiles was trying to tuck his head down, but Derek let out a loud, warning growl. Well. End game. Stiles gulped in deep breaths of air, trying to clear his fox instincts to make room for some human thought. Derek was waiting for him, waiting for an acknowledgment.

Slowly, Stiles relaxed and tipped his head back in submission. Derek rumbled in contentment, easing up to lick his neck and lower jaw instead. Stiles twisted his face and allowed himself to be licked a little more around his jaw and ears. Derek mouthed his ear, earning a warning yip from Stiles. He glared up at Derek and received a laughing chuff in return. He closed his eyes as Derek nosed him, licked him again. His hearing was already attuned to Derek’s heartbeat, and he felt his own slowing to match that steady rhythm. He wondered how it would be like if he could pat Derek like how he was being groomed, run fingers through thick dark fur. It would be nice…

From one heartbeat to another, he found his body shifting, growing, paws changing into fingers that pressed up against a warm body.

Stiles opened his eyes. His world had narrowed down to just Derek, Derek who had shifted with him and was all human now. Their faces were pressed close together, Derek’s nose nudging against his cheek before he pulled back. His hands curved around Derek’s bare biceps, squeezing and enjoying the warm hard muscle under his grip.

Bare biceps.

Derek was naked above him. He was equally naked beneath Derek.

“I caught you,” said Derek, looking unacceptably attractive and smug with that stupid smirk on his face.

“I’m new to this, okay?” said Stiles grumpily. “Try again next week, and we’ll see how that turns out.”

“That means we’ll have to practise. I’ll have to chase you more,” said Derek, nose flaring as he took in a deep breath.

“I can set aside time for that,” said Stiles in his steadiest voice possible, but he couldn’t control the way his heart skipped a beat. He could hear his anchor, Derek’s heartbeat, speeding up as well, lighting a fire in his own pulse.

“My wolf likes chasing you,” murmured Derek in a distracted tone.

“Please, your wolf isn’t a separate entity,” said Stiles, staring at Derek’s pale, hazel eyes framed with ridiculously long, dark lashes.

Derek gave him a toothy grin. “We like catching you even more.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open, and Derek’s eyes followed the movement avidly. Before Stiles could come up with something senseless to say, Derek was leaning down and kissing him. There was a moment when Derek froze, like he just realized what he was doing, but Stiles was a genius okay, and this was Derek. He moved his lips, pressing up while digging his hands into those arms caging him in. Then they were both moving, opening their mouths to slick, curious kisses. Derek curled his hands around the back of Stiles’ head, turning him for better, deeper angles. Stiles moaned and arched his back, and fuck, they were both naked. Very naked. He was rubbing off against Derek’s muscular thigh, and he would feel embarrassed except for the heavy weight of Derek’s cock that was getting hard against his hip.

Derek broke off to pant against his ear. “Stiles.”

It was his turn to be brave. Derek, who always played it safe when it came to his personal feelings, had made the first move, and it was time for Stiles to step up, even though it was so hard, hah, hard. He started talking, “I know I’m younger and inexperienced, but I have been thinking about you for awhile, like this, and not just like this, but in other, other context, and— Derek, I feel safe around you, even when you drive me nuts and growl at me.”

He probably would have said more except Derek turned his head and kissed him again, a short, gentling kiss. He murmured against Stiles’ mouth, “So all those sourwolf jokes, that’s how you were showing your affection?”

Stiles laughed, which wasn’t sexy at all, with how his whole body shook, and his mouth was wide open so close to Derek’s face. But those amazing eyes, looking like they were a deeper green now, were crinkled at the edges, laughing with him, and Stiles curled his hand in that wild, dark hair. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Good,” said Derek, a little senselessly, kissing Stiles again.

It was quick and completely without finesse, but he didn’t care, and Derek didn’t seem to either with the way he was groaning low in his throat. They rutted against each other with abandon, hands too busy clutching at hair, faces, shoulders, arms, to even reach down to stroke their rubbing cocks. Stiles parted his legs, letting Derek fall further between them, and they were moving together in blood burning pleasure. They kissed again and again, Derek tilting Stiles’ head back and to the side for a better angle, to lick in deeper and harder. It was too much all at once, the taste and feel, tongue rubbing against tongue, stubble scratching against his cheek and the sinuous movement between his thighs. Stiles gasped into Derek’s mouth and came between them.

The smell of come was musty and sharp, and it seemed to drive Derek into a frenzy. His thrusts lost their even rhythm and his kisses were sloppy now, but Stiles took them all, still shaking from his own climax as he tried to match Derek kiss for desperate kiss. Then Derek was arching and growling and coming in seemingly endless spurts.

“Fuck,” gasped Stiles as he broke away for air, panting into the night.

Derek rumbled in agreement as he rubbed his face against Stiles’ cheek. His face was going to be rubbed raw with stubble burn, but the close contact and repetitive motion was too enjoyable to stop. Stiles combed his fingers through Derek’s thick hair, scratching at the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. He shifted and enjoyed the feel of wet, softening cock against his own. It was almost more intimate than the frottage they had just indulged in. He sighed in contentment.

Derek said into his neck, voice muffled. “You’re purring. Like a lap cat.”

Stiles blinked and listened to the continuous low murmur that sounded like an engine had taken up residence in his lungs. Derek stroked a hand down his side as if to press closer to the sound, but the touch was too light and Stiles squirmed as his ticklish spots were grazed.

“Don’t move like that,” said Derek, shifting his face out of the crook of Stiles’ neck.

“Like what?” asked Stiles, still squirming and fidgeting.

Derek’s eyes flashed red. “Like I should be pinning you down to stop you from running away.”

Ah, it was his prey drive kicking in again. Stiles stared up at him, stilling for a moment. Derek relaxed as he realized he had gotten his point through, which was just enough for Stiles to squirm onto his front and push out from under Derek’s heavy weight.

“Let’s see if you can catch this lap cat!” Stiles shouted as he flitted away, bounding over some bushes and darting around trees. He heard a loud growl behind him as Derek gave chase.

Stiles laughed as he ran like the wind in weaving paths through the forest, ran like a fox playing with a wolf.

Stiles was lying on the couch, ignoring the huge eyes Scott was making at him from the other end. He plopped his feet onto Scott’s lap.

Isaac stood over the couch and crossed his arms. “You’re taking up too much space, Stiles.”

“Turn into a fox. We could do with a feet-warmer,” suggested Erica from where she was curled up against Boyd on the armchair.

Stiles groaned as he sat up so that Isaac could sit down too. “You just want to use me for my soft, wonderful fur.”

Isaac sat down so Stiles promptly leaned back against him, letting Isaac take most of his weight. Scott was still making huge, horrified eyes at him, which Stiles wouldn’t be able to ignore for much longer. At the moment, he was too busy eavesdropping on Derek’s phone call, just like every other werewolf in the room barring Scott. Half the pack was hanging out at Derek’s apartment when Stiles’ dad had called, and Derek had gone to answer his phone that he had left in his bedroom.

“—a heart attack at age seventeen. Do you know of any unusual reasons that might be behind this?” asked Stiles’ dad, his stressor on ‘unusual’ meant he was referring to the supernatural.

Derek said, “It’s nothing I have heard before. I can ask Deaton and look into some of our books.”

It went without saying that Stiles’ could pull out his research skills as well.

His dad said, “Thanks. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s rare, but it could be congenital. I’ll wait to hear more from the autopsy and family medical history. How’s Stiles going with his progress?”

Back to business as usual. And now, Stiles couldn’t ignore Scott’s worried expression anymore.

“You and Derek?” whispered Scott, a totally pointless endeavor in a room full of werewolves with enhanced hearing.

“Yep,” said Stiles, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously.

“Really??” Scott squeezed Stiles’ bare feet in shock. “But…when did this start?”

Stiles made a face. “It just happened, alright? I haven’t been hiding this from you or anything. You’re my bro, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It was Sunday, the day after Stiles’ first frolic in the woods with Derek. And first frolic in Derek’s old creepy house after an invigorating chase. And first frolic in Derek’s car after some light-hearted banter. Derek had banned the use of the word ‘frolic’ but Stiles was getting quite attached to it.

Scott looked a little mollified, while Erica spoke up a little mournfully, “I lost a hundred bucks because of this.”

“So did I,” said Boyd, a little miffed.

“And I’m rich,” said Isaac with shameless glee.

Stiles gaped at them. “What. What are you— Did you guys bet on our sex lives??”

“Not cool,” said Scott, and Stiles was about to thank him for the support when he continued, “You didn’t invite me in on the pool! I thought we were buddies, Isaac.”

Isaac shrugged, causing Stiles to wobble against him. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret from Stiles.”

Scott paused, and then sighed. “True.”

That deserved a grin and a wink from Stiles before he went back to interrogating the others. “So you guys bet on Derek and me? I didn’t even know we were…well. That there was something.”

“That’s cause you’re oblivious,” said Isaac.

“I didn’t bet on the two of you. I bet that Derek had sworn to celibacy or had ED,” interjected Erica. “It was the only way he can look the way he does and not be hooking up with anyone all this while.”

ED? Stiles blinked before some corner of his brain helpfully supplied the phrase ‘erectile dysfunction’. Oh, no, Derek definitely didn’t have that. Stiles had physical evidence that he definitely didn’t have that. Mmm, and boy, was that some physical evidence…

“Stop making that pervy face,” moaned Scott, but Stiles ignored him altogether to contemplate the fact that Derek hadn’t been with anyone in recent years according to Erica. And she would know, because not only did she have werewolf senses, but she was also incredibly nosy. Stiles had always thought that Derek must have been leaving a string of very satisfied one night stands around Beacon Hills. He didn’t know what to think about this new tidbit of information.

“I bet that Stiles would jump Derek a couple years down the line,” said Boyd.

Stiles stared at him. “Thanks for the vote in confidence, dude, but are you crazy? I’m not that brave. Or insane.”

Boyd held his gaze. “Please, you put yourself completely out there with Lydia, even when she had a reputation for destroying unworthy boys chasing after her.”

Okay. That was true. Sometimes Stiles did lack self-preservation when it came to matters of the heart. Maybe in a few years, if he had been more aware of the potential between him and Derek, he would have done something. But being turned in a werefoxthing had certainly sped up the process. Which reminded him—

“Hey, what should I call myself?” asked Stiles, abruptly changing the subject.

A big, warm hand clasped around the back of his neck, before sliding away. Derek asked as he walked around the couch, “Having an identity crisis?”

“Hardy har har,” said Stiles. “I mean, you guys are werewolves. I’m a werefennec-fox which is a ridiculous mouthful. I was wondering what I should call myself, or if I could just call myself a werewolf.”

Isaac got up, saying something about getting food from the kitchen. Stiles flailed a little as his back support disappeared, only to have another solid body slide into place on the couch. He turned his head a little to grin at Derek, who looked resigned instead of excited to be used as furniture. Rude.

Scott was giving him a befuddled puppy look. “But you don’t turn into a wolf. How can you be called a werewolf?”

“Well, that depends on how you define ‘werewolf’. Technically, if I’m in a werewolf pack, and I’m a shapeshifter—”

Scott groaned. “No, no, no, not your definition of things in Stiles’ world again.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that one accepted definition of lying is to recline your body horizontally. And technically, being given less detentions could be defined as improved behavior,” Stiles protested, remembering all the times he had ‘defined’ words to his dad and Scott when he had been caught out in a lie.

“Stiles, you’re not a werewolf,” interrupted Erica. “That would be really stretching the meaning of the word.”

“Do you need to call yourself anything anyway? Who are you talking to about your werefennec-foxness?” asked Scott.

“I just like to know. In my head, I keep thinking werecreature or werething, which can’t go on,” said Stiles. “I need a proper assignation, at least for record-keeping.”

Derek nudged him with an elbow in the back. “How about ‘special snowflake’?”

Stiles tipped his head back to glare. “Wolf got jokes today.”

“Fox has too many questions every day,” Derek said in a deadpan tone.

“What’s wrong with just werefox? Keep it simple,” suggested Boyd.

Stiles thought about it and sighed. There really was no better suggestion. “Doesn’t quite have a ring to it as werewolf, but I suppose that would be acceptable.”

Derek murmured under his breath, barely an exhalation just loud enough for Stiles’ enhanced hearing, “You’re Stiles. That’s all you need for a definition.”

The uncharacteristically soft words almost brought a flush to Stiles’ cheeks. Almost. Letting himself go boneless, Stiles slumped entirely against Derek’s side with a laugh. He heard a huff of irritation, but Derek curved his body to better brace Stiles. Scott rolled his eyes at them, and Stiles grinned in return.

Stiles the werefox in a pack of werewolves. He was redefining everything again, but it sounded like it would be a good one this time.