Chapter Text
“So wait.” Stiles says, trying to re-tape the bandage on his chest. “You are saying that if I smelled more like a wolf, this,” He gestured to the gauze on his chest that was covering some shallow cuts, “Wouldn’t have happened?”
Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “No. I’m saying if you smelled like an Alpha, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“But they would have known I wasn’t a werewolf.” Stiles said, frowning.
Derek sighed his long suffering sigh because his life was horrible and filled with teenagers.
“A human marked by an alpha guarantees that the alpha will come after whoever threatened the human.” Derek said.
“Oh. So it’s like you would be the invisible Kevin Costner to my Whitney Houston? Would you sing the song with me, Derek?”
Derek looked confused for a moment before rolling his eyes and heading to the window. “Fine. Get your guts torn out next time. This is the last time I listen to Scott about being nice.”
Stiles huffed out a laugh and sat down on his bed. “I’m sorry, hey! I’m sorry. I’ll remember that humor is offensive to you. Come on. Sit down. Tell me what I need to do.”
Derek hesitated at the window, tapping his fingers against the sill. “It’s not what you need to do. It’s what you need to get an alpha to do.”
“So you. What do I need to get you to do?” Stiles prompted him, as though he were a teacher, pulling an answer out of an unbelievably obstinate student.
“Scent mark.” Derek sighed and stood up straight. “I need to scent mark you.”
Stiles coughed. “What does- That sounds- Um?”
“You just need to be in close physical contact with an alpha.” Derek said and sat down next to him.
“Like this? Like how we are, right now?” Stiles asked, gesturing between the two of them.
Derek looked down at his legs next to Stiles. There was a good six inches between them. “Uh. No.”
“Closer?”
Derek nodded.
“How close?”
Derek looked out the window and considered jumping out of it anyway.
“Like… Allison and Scott close?” Stiles guessed.
Derek sighed.
“Dude. Ok. Look. You are an amazing looking guy and don’t get me wrong, we would have amazing children with my humor and intelligence and your bad ass good looks but I just turned eighteen, man. I can’t be having anyone’s wolf babies.” Stiles said. Derek listened to his heart speed up.
“You can’t have my cubs, you idiot.” Derek muttered.
“Oh.” Stiles said.
There was silence for a full minute.
“So. Listen. I’m going to get out of these jeans and then I’m gonna wash this blood off. I’m gonna try not to be awkward because I think I’m pickin up on what you’re puttin down here but I can’t guarantee I won’t be awkward because, you know, Stiles Stilinski here, awkward pro. So yeah. Just. Uh. No shoes on the bed? And there are some sweat pants in the bottom drawer over there if you want to- uh.” Stiles stood suddenly. “Yeah.”
He left the room in a weird haze of arousal and panic and Derek sighed.
Again.
He shrugged off his jacket and put it on the chair. He unlaced his boots and put them next to the chair and then found some sweat pants and pulled them on. He took his shirt off, since he had a white tank top underneath. Stiles shut the shower off in the room across the hall and Derek heard him getting dressed. He didn’t see Stiles get clothes before he rushed out so he had to assume he had some in the shower already.
Derek climbed on the bed and chose the spot closest to the window and sighed. He wondered how this had become his life.
Stiles opened the door and glanced at Derek on the bed. Derek had one arm over his eyes and the other tucked under his head. Stiles didn’t say anything but shuffled into his bed next to Derek. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and looked over at Derek for a long moment.
Derek raised the arm off his eyes and looked over. “What?” He asked.
“Scott’s the only guy I’ve slept with and I know what he’s like. He kicks. He snores. He throws all the blankets on the floor. What are you like?”
“I’m a cuddler.” Derek said, his eyes wide.
“Really?” Stiles asked. He loved cuddling.
“No.” Derek said. “Now go to sleep.”
Stiles huffed but did as he was told after much tossing and turning. Finally, Derek reached over and laced his fingers through Stiles. He pulled some of the pain from the cuts on his chest away and said softly, “Sleep, Stiles.”
He did.
***
Stiles wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, but he could have sworn that Derek was spooning him in the middle of the night.
He was ok with it; dream or not.
***
The next morning, Derek was gone but his jacket wasn’t. There was a bright green sticky note with the instructions:
Wear this until I can come back.
You snore.
“Yeah? Well you got wolf drool all over my pillow. Ass.” Stiles said.
He wore the jacket to school anyway.
Scott laughed at him. “It’s like the cheerleader wearing the quarterback’s letterman jacket.”
“I hate you.”
***
Derek didn’t come back for three days. When he did, Stiles was wearing headphones and doing homework. He wasn’t aware that Derek was in his room until he turned around to see Derek lounging on his bed, in the same sweats he had worn last time, reading Stiles’ copy of World War Z.
“Jesus!” Stiles said.
Derek didn’t even look up. He just slowly turned the page. Stiles glared at him but his paper was due tomorrow. He stood and went to the kitchen and grabbed a chocolate milk from the fridge. He hesitated and grabbed one for Derek.
“How’s the paper?” His dad said as he turned off the tv.
“The French Revolution was… violent.” Stiles concluded. He shrugged. “It’s ok. How’s the game?”
“They lost.” His dad rolled his eyes and they headed up the stairs. As his dad passed the room he said, “Don’t stay up too late.”
“Gotcha.” Stiles said.
He opened the door and Derek was exactly as he left him. He walked over and handed him a chocolate milk. Derek looked at it and back up to Stiles. Stiles waited for the snarky comment but all Derek said was a soft, “Thank you.”
Stiles shrugged and returned to his paper.
Two hours later, Derek said, “Your dad said not to stay up too late.”
“Yeah, just let me- Did you just remind me I have a bed time?” Stile said and turned to Derek. Derek just shrugged and turned another page.
“Unbelievable.” Stiles muttered. He saved his paper, dropped the drive into his back pack and went to brush his teeth. When he came back in the room, the lights were off and Derek started to say, “Watch your-”
And Stiles tripped over his backpack and headbutted Derek’s knee, his forehead hitting Derek’s knee with a hollow thunk.
“Backpack.” Derek said.
Then he snorted.
Stiles climbed up on his side of the bed, holding his forehead and saw Derek’s hands clapped over his mouth and his shoulders were shaking with laughter.
“Laugh it up, you ass.” Stiles muttered.
Derek snorted again. Stiles made it to his side of the bed and flopped down. Derek snorted and laughed and the whole bed was shaking with the effort of him not trying to laugh out loud.
“I hate you.” Stiles muttered. Derek reached over with one hand and took away the pain but he was still laughing. Stiles huffed and rolled away from him. Eventually, they slept.
***
Stiles wasn’t dreaming. Derek was curled around him, his hand under his shirt and on bare skin.
Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck.
Stiles would have to think this through.
But in the morning.
***
The visits started as a weekly thing, but gradually increased to twice a week. Then three times a week. Derek would leave something of his on Stiles’ desk for him to wear. Usually a hoodie or the leather jacket but when a pack came sniffing around, Derek left a stack of shirts.
A. Stack.
Scott laughed at him. “Sometimes I freak out because I think Derek is here at the school but then it’s just you.”
Erica leaned forward and sniffed delicately. “I can’t even tell Stiles from Derek anymore.”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “I think that’s the point.”
Boyd shook his head. “No. I’ve read up on this. Scent marking a human is pretty typical, for a pack like ours-”
Stiles gestures to Boyd.
“But I haven’t read up on a case like, uh, Derek.”
Stiles got up from the lunch table and left.
***
Later that week, Derek is reading Blood Meridian.
“Isn’t that supposed to be a horrifying book?” Stiles asked, watching Derek’s eyebrows knit delicately together in concern.
Derek nodded, turning the page. “It is. Did you finish your chemistry?”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Wanna watch a movie?”
“No, I want to read.” Derek said softly. He patted Stiles’ spot next to him and Stiles clambered over him. Derek had only done this once before and Stiles hadn’t wanted to ask him to do it again, because God, such a miracle could possibly only exist once in this universe.
Stiles curled up next to Derek and it wasn’t even awkward when their legs got all tangled up under the blankets. Derek began to read out loud from the book.
“The truth about the world, he said, is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its strangeness it would appear to you for what it is, a hat trick in a medicine show, a fevered dream, a trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent, an itinerant carnival, a migratory tentshow whose ultimate destination after many a pitch in many a mudded field is unspeakable and calamitous beyond reckoning.”
“Jesus.” Stiles said softly.
“Right?” Derek said. Then he continued, “The universe is no narrow thing and the order within it is not constrained by any latitude in its conception to repeat what exists in one part in any other part. Even in this world more things exist without our knowledge than with it...”
Even after Derek was asleep, the words rang in Stiles’ head and he looked up at the ceiling, Derek’s heavy arm across his stomach.
“’sa matter?” Derek slurred from his pillow.
“Things exist.”
“Uh huh.”
“Whether we acknowledge it or not.”
“...yeah.”
“You exist. I don’t understand you. And you aren’t this asshole in leather. Ok, yeah you are, but you are other things too. That part existed with or without my knowledge.”
Derek opened one impossibly colored eye.
“I don’t want any middle of the night confessions, Stiles. Tell me when we are awake.”
Stiles shoved at Derek until Derek flipped over on his side and Stiles could curl into his heat.
Because December is a cold month, ok?
***
They got sloppy. That’s the only reason it happened.
“Ok. Yes. Bale was an excellent Batman. You aren’t getting an argument there, but he was not better than Keaton.” Derek insisted. He was already in bed, ankles crossed, staring at Stiles like he couldn't believe someone would claim such a thing.
"Who are you and why are you in my bed spouting off such blasphemy?" Stiles asked, horrified.
"Keaton was the original!"
Stiles launched himself at Derek who barely let out a grunt when Stiles crashed into him. He jerked the pillow out from underneath Derek's head and started beating him over the head with it. "Bale! Was! The! Best!" Stiles said.
"Keaton was better!" Derek proclaimed, his arms up to fend off the blows, and he was laughing.
Stiles did that. Stiles made him laugh.
"Say it!" Stiles said.
"No!"
And the door crashed opened. His father stood there, gun drawn, looking ready to kill something.
The whole world paused as he took in Stiles in jersey shorts, Derek sprawled underneath him in a tank top and shorts and he blinked.
Before Stiles could account for what had happened, he was standing, pillow still in hand and Derek was-
He was just gone.
The Sheriff made it to the window in time to shout at Derek, "Wait till I catch you, Hale! He's too young for you and your- whatever!"
The Sheriff turned and made for the door before Stiles could stop him. "Dad where are you going?"
"I'm getting Parrish and we are hunting him down and then I'm going to shoot him." The Sheriff seethed.
"Why?" Stiles asked. "I mean- dad. Did you not see us? You think I could have taken down an Alpha with a pillow?" He asked, holding it out to him for evidence.
"You mean- you and Hale- but- Lydia?" The Sheriff stuttered.
"What?" Stiles asked.
"Red hair. Lydia."
"Strawberry blonde and no." Stiles said gently. "I'm eighteen, dad."
"I know that! But that doesn't mean- I mean- He didn't make you-?"
"No dad, geez." Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "We hang out. Watch movies. He sleeps better here. And it's sort of like- it's a manner of protection." Stiles said. His dad flushed. "Not that- we aren't! No! Not that kind of protection! I just-"
"He was attacked by a pack a few months ago, Sheriff." Derek said, doing that weird sneaky thing.
John shot him.
Stiles screamed.
"Jesus." Derek muttered, looking down at his arm.
"Why did you shoot him!" Stiles said. He slapped Derek's hands away as he dug at the wound. "Don't do that!"
"I have to get the bullet out!" Derek snapped back.
"Why did you get attacked!" The Sheriff yelled.
"Stop yelling!" Stiles yelled and pulled Derek's hand away again. He pulled him into the bathroom where there was tweezers and handled the disgusting job of digging a bullet out of Derek's arm and wiping the blood off. Derek was pale and panting at the end of it. Stiles thought he was going to faint.
"You ok?" Derek asked, putting a hand to Stiles' neck. The Sheriff tracked his movement.
"Yeah, honey." Stiles said. "I'm fine."
The hole in Derek's arm was already gone by the time they turned to face the Sheriff. He pointed at them. "What?" He asked.
Stiles took a deep breath and Derek explained.
By the time Derek was done, the look of judgement was gone and he just looked tired.
"I'm gonna go into the station. Derek can stay, since he's been here for months now, anyway." He pointed a finger at Derek. "Dinner. Friday. At seven. Be there and dressed."
Derek nodded.
They waited until the door shut before stumbling back into Stiles' room. Stiles curled into Derek and Derek huffed out a sigh.
"You ok?" Stiles asked.
"Yeah, pumpkin butt." Derek smirked.
"Don't start with me. I'll embarrass you so hard."
"Ok, dumpling."
***
On Friday, Derek showed up in a nice shirt, jeans with no holes and his good leather jacket that Stiles was determined to steal. Stiles was in the kitchen and the Sheriff let him in. "He's in the kitchen." John said, nodding to the back. "I'm sure you know where that is."
Derek scurried to Stiles' side and and Stiles glanced at him. "Are you scared?"
"Your dad shot me. It leaves an impression."
"All right honey." Stile said rolling his eyes.
"What are you making, puddin' face?" Derek asked, determined not to be the one embarrassed tonight.
"Chicken and garlic potatoes. Puppy toes, set the table, would you?"
That one gave Derek pause. "Sure thing, Bambi eyes."
Stiles glared at him.
"How was work, berry butt?" Stiles asked, mashing the potatoes fiercely.
Derek almost laughed at that one. Almost. But the deepening feeling of domesticity was making it hard to concentrate. "Isaac is still sick. I don't think all of the wolfsbane is out of his system. Erica is failing chem and Lydia is trying to help her. Chris and I worked on some new arrowheads and Scott is failing trig pretty spectacularly."
"Is he off first line if he doesn't get the grade up?" Stiles asked, checking the oven.
"Him and Erica are already off hunts until they bring them up."
"Burn. It would help if Allison wasn't in Scott's trig class, I think."
"He doesn't even need it. I don't tell him that because it would give him an excuse to fail and I already promised Mrs. McCall that I would do everything I could to help him." Stiles tossed him a loaf of french bread and he caught it one hand. He went to the counter and began slicing it neatly. "Erica is improving though. So there's silver lining."
"You help them with their grades?" John asked from the door. Derek jerked and almost cut himself. John smirked. "The gun's locked up, son. Relax."
Derek blinked and looked down at the loaf of bread. "I try to help. I hired a tutor from the local community college to help Scott."
"And I noticed someone else's grades are doing better." John said.
"Uh, when I'm here, Stiles can talk through the problems, gets done faster and goes to sleep earlier."
John hummed but didn't say anything else.
Dinner was surprisingly painless once John and Derek found out they had sports in common. Derek helped Stiles put the dishes away after they were washed and walked him to the door.
"Derek, you aren't staying?" John called out.
Derek looked at Stiles.
Stiles shrugged. "We could start True Detective."
"If that's all right with you, sir!" Derek called back.
John snorted.
Derek and Stiles turned back to the stairs and the new show waiting for them.