Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cover art by mari-mcsly
****
The thing was, Stiles really liked Massachusetts. He liked the buzz and the craziness of living in a city. He liked that he could have complete anonymity while he wandered from neighborhood to neighborhood; he liked that, for the most part, people were friendly... if a bit nosy. He’d also discovered a hitherto unknown addiction to fried chicken and waffles for breakfast, which was why he had been out and about on a busy Saturday morning. The restaurant was owned by a little old Southern lady, who just happened to be the Alpha in the greater Mass area. Her name was Ethel, and Stiles would be willing to swear that she had the hand of Jesus when it came to waffles and fried chicken. When Stiles had first been introduced to the pack, there had been a rival territory dispute. He’d seen her rip out the throat of three younger, burlier wolves, then calmly sit down for pecan pie and sweet tea.

The neighborhood he lived in Somerville was pretty nice. He could afford it, and it kind of reminded him a little bit of Beacon Hills with the perfectly spaced trees and super friendly neighbors. Of course, the area pack knew about him but let Stiles keep to himself, which he appreciated. Stiles hadn’t tried to hide what he was. That would have been suicidal, especially when his heat came around. Stiles never really was one to look a gift horse in the mouth (or, in this case, a gift wolf), so he was content enough to roll with it.

His life was weird. It was kind of a thing.

Still, it was a pretty sweet place to live.

Until it wasn’t.


***
If it had just been him, Stiles could probably have ignored it. If there was anything he’d learned from... well. From everything that had happened, it was that he was a hell of a lot stronger than he thought he was.

He’d just been walking, pushing the stroller. Zoe seemed to enjoy the day just as much as her dad, pointing out birds and trees with a solemn little jut of her jaw that never failed to make Stiles’ heart hurt a little.

“Tweet! Tweet, daddy!”

Stiles obligingly tweeted at the bird, feeling the same helpless clench of love that he always did when she smiled up at him, clapping delightedly. Stiles was so busy grinning down at his daughter that he tripped over his own feet when the lace of his Converse came undone. He snorted, and Zoe laughed again when her stroller did an unexpected wheelie while Stiles used it to catch his balance. It was nice to see her laugh. She was just getting over a bit of extremely nasty flu, and it was the first time that either of them had gotten outside in several days.

The bird flew off. Zoe waved bye-bye (this was a skill she’d just picked up and practiced at everything from saying goodbye to her babysitter to saying goodbye to the contents of the potty chair when Stiles dumped it), her attention caught by the doll in her stroller. Stiles stopped at a crosswalk with a small crowd of people, waiting for the Saturday shopping traffic. He had just bent over to quickly tie his shoe when it happened.

The shove to the upper part of his back sent him sprawling. Stiles had already been off-balance, and when he landed on the asphalt, he scraped his hands and knees.

He also barely was able to move in time to avoid the oncoming car.

Stiles threw himself to the left, and to his shock, the car actually swerved towards him, almost coming up onto the sidewalk. He heard the scream of a lady in the crowd, but Stiles was still seeing stars from slamming the back of his head against the pavement. He heard his own high-pitched whine, heard the squeal of the tires as the driver whipped the car back into traffic, speeding off down the busy street.

The wheel had come close enough to Stiles that it had run over the long, white string of his shoelace.

Stiles blinked, his bloody hand pressing into his chest as he had tried to get his breath back. Between one heartbeat and the next, he swung his terrified gaze back to the curb. In one heartbeat to the next, he had jumped up, ignoring the way his ankle twinged. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d twisted it.

“Zoe!” His scream caused the onlookers to look around, confused. But the bright pink stroller with his tiny daughter was missing.

The thing about Omegas was that they were pretty much the lowest of the low when it came to werewolf hierarchy. Werewolves were strong, proud creatures. They tended to despise weakness, and the idea that an Omega could literally be a slave to his or her body usually caused the rest of the pack to look down upon them. Nowadays, they even had hormone suppressants for when Omegas went into heat. They were pretty much pack law unless the Alpha was looking to breed.

Stiles wasn’t a very strong Omega. As the child of an Omega-human bond, Stiles was what he jokingly referred to as ‘Omega lite.’ He was faster than a human, and his healing rate was much quicker, but still not like that of a full-blooded werewolf. He didn’t change during the full moon. In his twenty-one years of life, Stiles had only the eyes and the teeth manifest on him once, and that had been under some really fucking stressful circumstances. Mostly, he had thought that he was fully human until...

But Stiles didn’t like to think about that.

Seeing the empty spot where his daughter’s stroller had sat had him whining in fear. Stiles had limped over the few steps, still looking around for her. He had spied the stroller pushed back against some shrubbery, half-hidden by the leaves of an overhanging tree. Stiles had sprinted over, feeling his eyes bleed to the bright green never found in nature, his adrenaline turning to terror when he had seen that the stroller was empty. Stiles had staggered, feeling like his whole world had dimmed.

“Bye-Bye!”

Stiles's head had snapped around so quickly that he popped vertebrae in his neck, only to see Zoe holding hands with a teenage girl who looked completely baffled when Stiles snatched up his daughter, burying his nose in her hair and clutching her to him. He hadn’t even realized that he was whispering her name over and over, almost crying until the girl said, “Mister? You need to watch your kid better. I saw her about to pet Mr. Henderson’s dog, and he bites!”

Stiles was completely freaked out; being pushed into the street, seeing Zoe gone, then finding her again had pretty much killed any chance of him being coherent. He just remembered nodding, then sinking down to the sidewalk, still clutching Zoe to his chest.

But he hadn’t known real fear until he made it back to the stroller. Pinned to the back of Zoe’s doll was a note. There was no handwriting. It looked like someone had just printed off onto a sheet of paper, but it was no less menacing for all that it looked completely benign, neatly pinned to the back of the doll:

NEXT TIME

IT WILL BE HER

IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME

WHAT I WANT

***

Stiles had always been grateful for what his dad gave him. Even when mom had died, and all the trauma that went along with losing a parent when you were so young had been so raw, money had never been something that they’d really had to worry about.

Until Stiles had caused his dad to lose his job, that is.

Then... well. Money was tight. His dad had done his best. His dad had always done his best. But things were strained. Mr. Stilinski had managed to get a job working as a private investigator, but the jobs in the small town of Beacon Hills hadn't exactly kept them rolling in it. It had just been luck that Mr. Stilinski had paid for the house with his wife’s life insurance money, or they would have had to move. Stiles had, of course, gotten a job, but...

Scholarships had become more of a necessity than ever. By Stiles’ Junior year, he had narrowed it down to two schools. Stanford was an amazing school. It was close; he had like five different things that he could study... it was amazing. Allison and Lydia had already been accepted. It was close enough to come home on weekends. He’d even gotten a partial scholarship, so everything about it seemed perfect. The other school Stiles had applied to was more of a whim. He didn’t really think he’d get in, but he’d seen Good Will Hunting so many times that he couldn’t stop himself from applying to MIT.

During the end of his senior year, everything had changed. Everything.

When Stiles finally left for college, he never dreamed that something would happen that would make it so he never, ever wanted to go back to Beacon Hills again.

And he hadn’t. Until Derek Hale showed up at his door.

***
“Dad?”

“Stiles?! Stiles heard a thump, a not-so muffled curse, and then all of a sudden, his dad’s voice was a lot clearer. “Where are you? Are you okay? What’s happened?”

Stiles had to shut his eyes, relief making the terror still keeping his heartbeat thudding in his chest slowly. His dad had never let him down. His dad was the only person who had never let him down, and even though it had been almost two years since he’d heard the sound of his voice, it brought him right back to being young and feeling safe when his dad was around.

After what had happened earlier, he wasn’t able to let Zoe go completely. She was asleep, wrapped in her pink blanket, and Stiles had curled around her, his hand on her chest. Her breathing was slow and deep as she dreamed, and it made Stiles feel grounded, less panicked with every heartbeat of his little girl.

Stiles didn’t remember how he got home. It literally seemed like within one eyeblink and the next, he and Zoe were in the small house, behind three different locked doors. Stiles recognized the way his chest felt too small like the oxygen wasn’t good enough. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years and was only able to talk himself down by the fact that Zoe needed him. He couldn’t fall apart and leave her helpless.

“Oh, shit... dad.” Stiles gulped, pressing the phone to his forehead for a second as he fought to keep himself from completely losing it.

He heard his dad take a deep breath. “Stiles Stilinski. You will not even think about hanging up on me. Let me hear you breathe, Stiles. One.”

It was a familiar technique they’d used when Stiles’ panic attacks had been so sudden that Stiles would just collapse. Even in middle school, he’d had permission to call his dad whenever one would strike so that his dad could talk him down. Stiles tried to force his lungs to take a breath.

“Good. Let me hear another. Two.”

Another breath, this one a little less shaky.

“Even better. One more. Three.”

On ‘three,’ Stiles forced himself to hiss out the bad air and breathe deeply, taking in a calming breath. There were a few beats of silence, then his dad’s voice came across the phone, the shakiness only slightly apparent.

“Okay?”

“I.” Stiles tried to focus his thoughts, but absolutely, honestly didn’t know where to begin. “Dad, it’s so fucked up... they almost hurt....” He stopped. No. He couldn’t tell his dad this way. “Me. Someone...” Stiles winced at his dad’s sharp breath.

“Are you okay? Are you safe now? Stiles, talk to me. Take another breath, son. Talk to me.”

It was like he’d never left.

Stiles hadn’t let himself miss his dad what he’d done, well. It had been the only way. By the time he’d really started to want to go back, he’d had Zoe, and that had been impossible anyway. But Stiles hadn’t realized how much he missed being called ‘son’ until he teared up, then he was crying, sucking in great, gasping sobs. He tried to muffle it, not wanting to wake Zoe, but it was hard. From very far away, he could hear his dad talking, sounding equal parts scared to death and about two seconds away from crying himself.

“D-d-d” Stiles sniffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve. Stiles meant to say,’“Dad, I missed you,’ but blurted, “Dad, I want to come home,” instead.

His dad sucked in a long, shuddering breath. Cleared his throat. “I think you’d better tell me what kind of trouble you’re in, son. Then we’ll see what we can do to get you out of it.”

Stiles turned onto his back, still wiping his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. Shit. This was going to be tricky. Stiles had done what he’d been forced to do. He didn’t really regret it because he and Zoe had each other, but this could really, really have the potential to fuck up the very careful life he’d built for himself and his little girl.

“Are you comfortable? This might take a while.”

His dad’s snort was loud, and it made Stiles smile. He heard his dad cover the mouthpiece, heard the muffled sound of him talking to someone else, then the clearer, “Yeah, no shit. Let’s start with the ‘someone wants to hurt you’ part and go from there.”

How could he do this without giving everything away? Stiles took his hand off of Zoe, rubbing his hand over his short hair.

“Uh. Well, My ... job... is kind of hard to explain. I guess that... I have made some people really pissed off. Or a person. I don’t really know. And they... well. I didn’t realize that everything was connected until today. Today they went after someone... very special. Someone that I--” his voice broke again. It was Stiles’ turn to clear his throat. “--love. God, dad, I love her so much, and they want to hurt her!”

“Her?” His dad sounded shocked. “Her who?”

“Her name is Zoe.” Stiles knew he was smiling as he looked down at his sleeping girl. She was a restless sleeper, and she’d kicked off the little pink blanket and had balled herself up so that her butt was sticking straight up in the air. Her mouth was open just a little, and the little whisper of a snore was just as calming as her heartbeat. “She’s amazing, dad. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

There was a strange silence. Stiles winced, imagining what his dad must be thinking. Still, ‘hey, dad! I had a kid with that guy you hate!’ was more of a conversation Stiles owed his dad in person. Fuck, he still couldn’t hear Papa Don’t Preach without cringing.

“So, okay. Where are you, Stiles?”

“I’m in Massachusetts. Somerville, actually.”

There was the muffled sound of talking again; then his voice was back. “Look, Stiles. Have you told ... whoever? Your Alpha?”

There was a muffled crash on the other side of the phone. “Dad?”

“Sorry- I... dropped something. Continue.”

“No. I haven’t told anyone but you. Dad, it could be the Alpha for all I know.” The fact that his dad even had thought to ask sent Stiles’ heart thudding in his chest again. “You always told me that once was an incident. Twice was a coincidence. Three...”

“... is a pattern.”

“Yeah, well, we left ‘pattern’ behind a long time ago.”

“Stiles, son. You know I’m not... judging you. But does this trouble have to do with those envelopes that I’ve gotten over the last few years?”

And, fuck. That right there was where shit was going to bite him in the ass. The thing was, Stiles had come a long way from the broke, scared kid that had left Beacon Hills. It seemed crazy to him that people liked to play the little game that he invented so much that they were willing to pay him to do so, but facts were facts. Stiles wasn’t exactly a contender on Forbes, but he did very well for himself. Extremely well for himself.

And someone wanted to kill him because of it.

Fuck, he would give away all of his money if it meant that he and Zoe would be safe. And the fact of the matter was, as much as he loved his little house and the life that he’d built here, he would give it up in a second if it meant he could go home and everything just be the way it used to be.

But how to explain that he had someone trying to kill him when his dad didn’t even know his son was wealthy?

“Yeah.” Stiles had started sending money to his dad, always a money order (from different states because Stiles wasn’t stupid), always in a plain envelope. He sent it on his mom’s birthday, on his dad’s birthday, on Stiles’ birthday, and on Zoe’s birthday. He always included a short note of a heavily edited version of what was going on in his life. Stiles always wrote to his dad, making sure to mention that he loved him. He sent him a picture (never with Zoe) so that his dad knew he was okay. It had been lucky that their four birthdays had fallen roughly three months apart so that the money was regular. Stiles had made sure it was like clockwork.

But now...? Sending your dad, the former cop, unmarked amounts of money throughout the past two years after pulling up stakes and running might have been a poorly executed idea. Possibly.

Shit.

His dad made a harumphing sound, low in the back of his throat, that Stiles recognized from every single time he’d been caught telling a lie and winced, feeling sixteen again.

“So, let’s just cover the highlights here. You’ve been threatened. You were hurt?”

Stiles nodded, then realized that his dad couldn’t see him nod, and spoke up. “Yeah. It was just a few scratches, but someone pushed me out in front of a car. Before that... just some notes. Some stuff is missing. Pranks, that sort of thing. Look, is...” He huffed out a breath. “Is it okay if I come back? I don’t have to... stay there. I can get a hotel room or something.” Stiles couldn’t help how small his voice was.

“Son.” There was a pause while his dad cleared his throat. “I ... don’t know why you left. God knows I’ve asked myself enough times. But you are always. Always. Welcome here. But if you don’t know what’s going on... you shouldn’t leave. Give me your address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Stiles felt like an idiot at the way his own throat tightened. “Dad...”

“No, Stiles. Just... don’t disappear again, okay? I’ll be there soon. We can talk then. Promise that you’re not going to run again. Promise.”

“Okay.” It was a whisper, but it was all Stiles could manage. “I promise.” Guilt swarmed him, and Stiles felt his eyes tear up again. He opened his mouth to tell his dad that he loved him, but the click of the phone call ended stole his chance. Jesus. His dad. His dad was coming. He’d help Stiles fix this. If anyone could, it would be him. For the first time since that morning, Stiles felt relaxed enough to sleep. Things weren’t perfect... but they were better.

And, really...? Given everything that happened? That was all Stiles could really hope for.



***
The pounding on his door sent Stiles jackknifing up out of bed. He vaguely remembered waking when Zoe did, feeding her lunch, and the two of them going back to sleep. It was dark now, though. Stiles had the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing whether it was morning or night, or which day it was. He yawned, his heart beating in his chest like a small, trapped thing. The power must have gone off because the red numbers on his clock just flashed 12:00 over and over.

Zoe must have really been tired from being sick because she usually didn’t sleep the entire night through, especially after taking a nap as she’d done. Stiles yawned again and stretched, wincing guiltily when Zoe shifted on the bed, a tiny frown between her eyebrows as the pounding on the door came again.

Stiles jumped up off his bed and jogged to his front door. It must be his dad! Shit, it had only been about -he checked his phone- six hours since his dad had promised to come. Stiles hadn’t expected him so soon, but he couldn’t help the huge grin that split his face as he flipped on the kitchen light on his way to the front door. He was so happy at the thought of seeing his dad that he jerked the door open without even looking through the knothole.

He should have, of course.

Stiles felt it like he’d been punched. He met Derek’s angry green gaze with his own horrified one. Two years. Two fucking years that he’d managed to ... well, not forget. Nothing could make him ever forget. But he’d stayed away.

He’d stayed away!

“No...” Stiles’ choked whisper made Derek flinch. No. No fucking way. This couldn’t be happening.

Stiles slammed the door shut right in Derek’s face. He slammed it so loudly that it shook in its frame.


TBC!

Chapter Text

Chapter 2



Stiles felt his chest contract. Maybe it was his heart; he wasn’t sure. He had one fleeting thought that thank god... thank god, Zoe was still asleep. Him slamming the door hadn’t woken her because if she was actually awake, she’d be making her displeasure known. Loudly. With great prejudice.

There was a thump against the door that made Stiles jump. He could clearly hear Derek through the wood. “Stiles. Let me in.”

Stiles’ gaze fell on a stuffed teddy bear, and his eyes widened, the panic closing around his throat and chest like a vice. No, oh no, oh no. This couldn’t be happening. He’d done everything. He’d done everything that he was supposed to do. But yet... there he was, larger than life. Derek Hale standing at his door. Stiles heard this pathetic sounding choked-off sound and stopped, realizing it was him. Stiles bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and sucked in a breath.

The anger was slowly obliterating the panic, and that was such a welcome relief that it made Stiles weak-kneed. He made himself square his shoulders. Took a deep breath. Another. And one more before stepping forward and opening the door.

Stiles refused to look at Derek’s stupid face. When he spoke, it was to the soft bit of skin under his adam’s apple. Stiles had a flash memory of licking the sweat off of Derek with humiliating clarity, of pulling that same soft bit of skin into his mouth and biting. Derek had one hand up as though he was getting ready to knock again, but Stiles’ throwing open the door had caused him to pause- mid pound.

Derek started to shift forward, and Stiles held up one hand. “I do not want you here.” He spoke softly, his throat still thick from swinging from emotion to emotion, a tinge of anger still clear. “I want you to leave.”

“No.”

The one word made Stiles hunch in on himself for a split-second before the anger flared, sharp and bright. “You need to leave. I can’t have you here.”

Derek took a half-step forward. Stiles refused to let himself take a step back, although he knew he wasn’t all the way successful at hiding the sharp stab of fear that flooded through him at Derek’s aggression. He started to shut the door, but Derek’s foot stopped the door slamming in his face for the second time.

“I am not leaving until you explain yourself. That can either be here on your doorstep or in your living room.” Derek’s voice was implacable. “Your father sent me.”

Hurt flared so brightly for a moment that Stiles couldn’t help the way he jerked his gaze to Derek’s before staring resolutely back at his throat. “My father sent you,” he repeated, numb.

“We gonna do this out here on your stoop, Stiles?”

Stiles's mouth tightened. No. No, they weren’t. His neighbors were really sweet but so fucking nosey that it sometimes caused Stiles actual pain.

“You have ten minutes; then you go, okay?”

Derek actually snorted. “Then, what. You call the police?”

Stiles was so furious that the words fell out of his mouth in an angry hiss as he jerked his gaze up to Derek’s. “No. I’ll call my pack. You have ten minutes. Then you get the fuck out, okay?” Stiles didn’t miss the flare of red in Derek’s eyes but was angry enough that he didn’t care. How dare he. How. Fucking. Dare. he even come here? Stiles would have felt guilty for claiming a pack that he didn’t have, but he was too pissed. He waited for Derek’s terse nod, then stood back, moving so that no part of his body accidentally touched Derek’s. Stiles made himself move to his kitchen, digging in his fridge for some water, taking his time so that he could try to get his stupid emotions under control.

“Not gonna offer me any?” Derek didn’t even spare a gaze for the rest of the living room, zeroing in on Stiles like the predator he was.

Normally, Stiles liked his little house’s setup. The living room was pretty good-sized, with an open kitchen and breakfast nook. He only had two bedrooms but didn’t really need all that much. Although he could afford it, he didn’t really see the point in buying a bunch of shit he didn’t need. Several play boxes in the back part of his living room were jam-packed with Zoe’s toys, but other than the teddy bear, nothing overtly screamed that Stiles had a toddler here. Derek was the only thing that was off in the familiar space, standing near the couch with his hands by his sides, staring at Stiles almost without blinking. He looked exactly the same. Same leather jacket, same jeans, same boots. The t-shirt was stretched over muscles that Stiles could have done very well without noticing, but it wasn’t like that was anything new.

“No. Now explain. Why did my dad call you of all people? My dad hates you.” Stiles poured the filtered water into the glass, wanting to press the cool surface against his aching head.

“He didn’t just call me, Stiles. He hired me. A ... lot of things have changed since you left. Derek ran his hand through his hair. “You’re kind of out of the loop.”

“Yeah? Well, whose fault is that?”

Derek actually flinched again, his hand falling from his hair and back to his side. Stiles welcomed the mean little spurt of satisfaction he felt at seeing it. Anger was good. If Stiles could just keep the anger, he’d be fine. He could get through this now and fall apart later.

“Look, Stiles. I understand...”

The glass slipped through Stiles’ hand, shattering against the floor like a bomb. “ You understand? Fuck you, Derek! You don’t understand anything.” Stiles heard his voice raising, knew that he had to get his shit together, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The words had been locked up too long. The anger was too sharp, too close to the surface. “You made shit really clear after you did... after you let them...” his voice strangled; Stiles couldn’t even talk about it, humiliation and shame stealing his words. “My dad hired you? So what. I’ve done without him for this long, and I’ve sure as fuck done without you for this long, and I can figure this out myself. You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you here. Get out. Get the fuck out of here.”

Stiles took a step, hissing as he cut his toe on a piece of the broken glass.

Derek opened his mouth to retort, brow wrinkling in as his anger sparked. Stiles watched it happen. He watched the shock filter over Derek’s face, watched the blood drain out of his cheeks as he stared not at Stiles but behind him at something a little to Stiles’ left.

Someone.

Stiles froze, his eyes drifting shut, all the anger draining out of him at once. His heart actually skipped a beat before pounding madly in his chest. He thought for a second that it might be visible under his t-shirt.

“Daddy?”

Zoe’s pink princess nightgown hung slightly off her shoulder, cockeyed from the way she’d been sleeping. Her brown hair was mussed, curly tendrils escaping from the braid Stiles had put her hair in before they’d gone outside. She had her stuffed rabbit by one ear and was rubbing her eyes sleepily.

Stiles ignored the way his heart was pounding in his chest, turning and jumping a little gracelessly over the glass in the kitchen, moving so that Zoe couldn’t possibly cut herself.

“Haven't go pee, daddy.”

“Let’s go to the bathroom then, hon.” It was weirdly surreal as Stiles reached out for Zoe, swinging her up into his arms as he turned his back on Derek. They hadn’t been super successful yet with the potty-training, so Stiles made sure to kiss her cheek, praising her for coming and telling him as they walked back to the bathroom.

Stiles wasn’t entirely comfortable just leaving Derek in his living room like that, but the routine of getting Zoe ready, of drawing her a bath and putting her toys and bubbles in the three inches of the lukewarm water, washing her with her Elmo bath scrub puppet, then getting her re-dressed in clean clothes calmed him down. Kind of. Stiles wasn’t going to freak out in front of his daughter, so necessity made him force himself to relax. They’d pretty much fucked up their sleeping schedule. It was about ten at night, and they’d both slept way too long during the day for tomorrow to be very comfortable. When they came back out into the living room, Derek was holding the dustpan, looking a little lost, like he didn’t quite know what he was doing.

“I cleaned up the glass.”

“Thank you.” Stiles nodded, turning around. “Zoe, what would you like for dinner?”

Zoe looked up at Derek curiously. “Who’s that?”

Stiles had to bite his tongue on a bark of truly, pathetically inappropriate laughter. Oh Jesus, fuck, this wasn’t going to end well.

“This is someone that Daddy used to know.”

“Oh. Do you like hot dogs?” Zoe tilted her head, smiling a little shyly. “Daddy makes them with ma’roni and cheese.”

Derek blinked. Stiles took the dustpan from his hand and turned so that Zoe could brush by them to her booster seat at the table. She climbed up and seated herself, staring up expectantly at Stiles.

Stiles threw away the broken glass, washed his hands, and then set about warming up something for his daughter to eat. It wasn’t particularly fancy, but her palate wasn’t exactly refined, so microwaved hot dogs and leftover mac and cheese would be fine. Stiles got her juice in the sippy cup, stepping around where Derek still stood in the entryway of the kitchen, still completely stunned. He was staring at Zoe in a way that Stiles did not like. At all. He wasn’t Omega enough to have hackles, but he still wanted to bite and snarl at the other wolf in the kitchen's small space.

“You have a daughter.” Derek’s voice was low, gravely like he’d been gargling glass.

“Well spotted, genius. You must be one hell of a private investigator.” Stiles’ mutter was not very under his breath, but he wasn’t feeling particularly up to sparing Derek’s delicate sensibilities, either.

Stiles got the food cut up the hot dogs, arranged it on Zoe’s Dora plate, and left her to it. He turned, brushed by Derek, and walked into his living room, flopping down on his couch.

This was so fucked up. Stiles was shaking from anger, from proximity to Derek. He was so fucking furious that Derek was still here that it was throwing him off. As soon as he’d seen Derek at the door, Stiles had known that there was no way to keep Derek from knowing that Zoe existed.

Derek followed him, then gingerly sat down in the love seat across from him. He stared at Stiles for a minute, but Stiles just ignored him, feeling drained. The best way to deal with Derek was just to let him say whatever bullshit story he had and get it over with. The sooner he did that, the sooner Derek could just fuck off right back to Beacon Hills.

“She’s beautiful, Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyes popped open in shock. That was so, so not what he’d expected Derek to say. He watched Derek watching Zoe as she used the little bit of ketchup on her plate to draw on the table, then jerked his eyes away, pissed at himself. When he spoke, it was with the low, furious cadence of someone trying to give a bunch of information to someone they really, really didn’t want to talk to.

“Whoever is after me sent me a note. They pushed me into traffic. When I got up, Zoe’s stroller wasn’t on the curb.” Stiles heard the shaky terror in his voice. He didn’t think that he would ever forget the feeling of staggering to his feet and not seeing Zoe’s stroller where it was supposed to be. “They had... touched her, Derek. Took Zoe out of the stroller and pinned a note to her doll. They said that they would hurt her if I didn’t give them what they want.” Stiles knew his voice sounded just as broken as he felt. All at once, he was too tired... just way too tired to deal with all of this alone. He shut his eyes again. Derek was quiet for a few minutes. Stiles could feel the weight of Derek’s gaze on him. “The problem is that I don’t know. I don’t know what they want.”

He knew Derek could tell if he was lying. Stiles absolutely had never spoken a balder truth in his life. Stiles couldn’t begin to think of anything he owned, anything he had that anyone would want. He was doing okay with money. But he was hardly the wealthiest person around. But to threaten Zoe? What could Stiles have that would be worth that?

“Your dad has been looking for you for two years, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded. He knew. Ironically, he’d been paying a private investigator a small fortune to give him a head’s up on his dad’s activities.

“Where’s her mo--”

“Daddy! Yum! I’m done.”

Stiles had pushed up off the couch and was moving before he realized, on autopilot.

He got Zoe cleaned up then wiped down the table. She walked right over to her corner, gleefully dumping out the three buckets of mega blocks so that they were scattered out in her play-corner. Zoe wasn’t very good with them. Her buildings tended to be enormous towers of the same block over and over, but every time she knocked them down, she’d laugh like crazy, these huge little girl belly laughs that never ceased to make him smile.

Now, he just looked at her, feeling the pinprick of tears in the back of his throat. How was he going to do this? How could he keep her safe if he didn’t know who was coming after him? “I wouldn’t have asked my dad for help if I thought you would be here. Please say whatever he told you, then get out, Derek. I’m exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with--” Stiles flailed his hands around, frustrated.

He watched Zoe play for a few more minutes.

“I’m not going to ‘get out,’ Stiles, so get used to that right now. Your dad was in a fucking panic when you called. I’ve never seen him so ecstatic then so absolutely terrified at once.”

“Yeah? You see my dad a lot?”

Derek’s smile turned nasty. Cold. There was the Derek Hale that Stiles remembered. “Yeah. When he hired me. As your bodyguard. I don’t work for you- I work for him. So you can sit over there and pout all you want, Stiles, but I’m not going anywhere until you’re safely back in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles blinked for a second. He opened his mouth to respond, trying to find the words. Before he could, Derek continued, his lips twisted into a superior smirk that made Stiles want to launch his cocked fist at his stupid perfect jaw. He jerked his gaze away, staring at Zoe, who was still playing, using her mega blocks as a bridge for a little car that Ethel had given her for her first birthday. Zoe still played with it all the time.

“You know that we couldn’t find any trace of you after your Christmas break? Nothing. Poof. Your dad went fucking crazy. Nobody, no phone calls, nothing. Not until that email.”

Stiles held up a hand as though he could stop Derek’s hateful words. When he spoke, his voice was shaking with the effort of keeping his cool in front of his daughter. “After what you did to me... you do not get to throw my past in my face like you have any fucking idea of what was going on.” Stiles jerked his head up, refusing to be cowed by the memories in his head. “This is it, Derek. The last time you get to ask questions. I disappeared once. Do you think that I can’t do it again?” Stiles flinched back when Derek leaned forward angrily.

Stiles watched the surprise, the shock on Derek’s face as Derek realized that Stiles was afraid of him. It was hard to hate yourself for something so fucking stupid, but Stiles couldn’t help it. He didn’t want Derek to know that he still remembered the pain of--.

“I’m sleepy, daddy. Can I have my story?” Stiles jerked at Zoe’s sweet voice, his body still thrumming with tension.

“Of course you can. Let’s make your blocks nice and neat, okay?” Stiles scrubbed his hand over his face, then tried a smile for his girl.

Zoe nodded yawning. Stiles glanced at the clock. It was only about eleven, so she’d still sleep for a good few hours. Stiles bent over to pick up blocks, Zoe helping at first but more distracted by Derek’s presence than keeping her space clean.

Like father, like daughter.

“You made my daddy sad.”

Stiles tripped over his foot, barking his shins on the play box of toys as he whipped around, mouth falling open. Zoe was the tiniest Amazon, standing with her fists on her hips as she looked up at Derek with a frown on her face.

“I-- uh.” Derek was blinking down at her looking like someone had just smacked him on the back of the head.

“That’s not very nice.” Her little cupid's bow mouth turned down at the corners. “I don’t know if I like you. Do you like Princess Tiana?” Clearly, this was a test. Princess Tiana was her favorite princess because Zoe loved frogs too.

Derek blinked. “Uh... Yes?”

Zoe beamed at him. Seeing her so close to Derek made him panic a little. He tried to be nonchalant as he walked over to pick her up but wasn’t sure how well he pulled it off. Thank god werewolf scenting didn’t work like a forensics lab. It wasn’t like they could just sniff out DNA. Ethel had told him rather witheringly that werewolves aren't bloodhounds. So, it wasn’t like Derek could just know about Zoe. But still... seeing her so close to him made Stiles sick with nerves. And jealousy. And guilt- which just pissed him off.

Stiles felt better after he took a few steps back. “Daddy’s not sad, honey. Just a little sleepy.” Oh god, he was so tired. “Why don’t you try to potty one more time before bed, then go pick out your story.”

Zoe got the slightly sly look on her face of a born Stilinski. “If your friend tucks me in, then I can have two stories.”

“Not a chance.” It took an effort to keep his voice free of the fear that spiked through him at the thought of Derek in Zoe’s room. “Go on now.” He popped her tush, and Zoe squealed, running off to the back of the house with a giggle.

Stiles watched her go, realizing that he was still holding blocks in his hand. He quickly put them away, then took a deep breath.

“I’ll go with you, although I think you’re kind of a shitty bodyguard given the fact my two-year-old daughter just twisted you around her finger like a piece of spaghetti. If I go though- I ... I don’t want to see them. Just my dad.” Derek was nodding before Stiles finished. Which was nice of him, but Stiles was adamant. It hadn’t just been Derek that had gutted him. He had no interest in seeing his former friends either. “I’ll have some things that I need to take care of here before we go. There are linens in the closet if you want. Food in the fridge. You can have the couch.” There was no point in sending Derek out tonight. Stiles was too exhausted, the fury from earlier bleeding over to numbness. Derek would just do something creepy like sleep on his stoop or something anyway.

“Okay.”

Stiles just nodded and turned, walking back to give Zoe her story, tuck her back in, and then fell into bed. He didn’t remember his head hitting the pillow before he slept.

****
Stiles huffed out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

This meeting was necessary but had such a potential for fucked-up-ness that the statistics were pretty staggering. Derek had, of course, refused to let him go say goodbye to Ethel and her pack alone, so here they were, parked in front of the unassuming house, set back from the street. He got out and stalled a little more with getting Zoe out of her car seat. Derek stood quietly, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

It hadn’t taken as long as Stiles thought it would to pack clothes for him and Zoe. Derek already had plane tickets, but they didn’t have to be at the airport for another two hours.

Which, in theory, would be just enough time to wrap things up with the local pack, have a few cookies (Ethel served them on Herringbone china with tiny little watercress sandwiches.), and make their plane.

Except for Derek.

When Stiles had called to ask permission to bring in a strange wolf, Harper, Ethel’s second in command, had seemed... weird about it. Jumpy, like Stiles, had disappointed her by asking. It wasn’t overt, but it was enough that it made Stiles a little twitchy.

They walked up to the door and stood there a second. Stiles had to start twice before he actually got the words out. “So, you’ll follow my lead, right? I don’t need you being all... you... I’m just stopping in to say goodbye. They’re gonna want to say goodbye to Zoe.” He hated that he actually sounded placating.

Derek just grunted and stood a little closer to Stiles.

Stiles rolled his eyes and took a pointed step back, then pointedly knocked. It was a young wolf that opened the door, one that he knew, but not one whose name he could remember.

“John! Hey man. Harper was just talking about you. Come in, come in. Hi Zoe!” The wolf pretty much ignored Derek, which suited Stiles just fine. He stepped aside, and the three of them walked inside, the young wolf shutting the door behind him. “Miz Ethel’s out in the back of the house. You know where. You and your.. uh. Friend can come on. Want me to take Zoe?”

Before the young wolf could, there was a flash of movement, and Stiles was being hugged by five feet, nothing of a redheaded werewolf.

Zoe squealed, and her “Harper!” made Stiles smile. Harper grinned at Zoe then leaned over to give her a kiss on the nose. Zoe was already scrambling to get out of Stiles's arms. Harper just laughed and set Zoe down, grabbing her hand. Stiles saw her gaze flick over briefly towards Derek before her hand came behind Stiles’ neck, and she pulled him to her, brushing her lips over his. Stiles broke away with a tired grin, resting his forehead against Harper’s.

“Word is you’re leaving us.” Harper pulled away and ruffled Stiles’ hair. He’d let it grow out a little, and there was just enough there for it to stick out in about twelve different directions once as she pulled away. Stiles laughed as he tried to smooth it back down.

“Yeah. For a bit. Have some stuff to take care of.”

“Daddy! I want cookies, daddy.”

Zoe pulled on Stiles’ hand, and Harper gave him a grin before she disappeared with Zoe in tow, promises of cookies and milk echoing in the hallway as they disappeared.

John?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well, you said it yourself. No trace of Stiles Stilinski after Christmas break. What, did you think I was just living in a cave somewhere?”

Derek had an expression on his face that Stiles didn’t recognize, but he wasn’t dumb enough to let it distract him. “Ethel will see us in the back. Best not to keep her waiting.” Stiles turned and continued down the hallway. Derek was walking so closely behind him that Stiles could feel the blast of heat from his body, and he tried not to shiver at the sense-memory of moving against him, sweat-slick and desperate.

Stiles swallowed hard.

This was so, so unbelievably fucked up.

The doors to the den (the actual den, and Stiles still smirked inwardly whenever of Ethel’s pack said it with a straight face) opened, and Stiles stepped through, walking over to Ethel and bending down. Even Stiles heard the low, dark sound Derek made when Stiles leaned up to give her the expected kiss on her cheek.

“John! Have a seat. Your guest too.” It wasn’t exactly a request. Ethel had been an Alpha for longer than Derek had even been alive, but it didn't exactly surprise Stiles when Derek just crossed his arms over his chest, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“He’s not my guest. Kind of a pain in the ass bodyguard that my dad hired.” Stiles winced when his knee popped as he stood, taking a few steps to the chair near the fire. The den was unlike any room Stiles had ever been in before. His dad would have called it a parlor or a sitting room or something equally old-fashioned, but it suited Ethel pretty well. There were pictures lined up on the wall, pictures of her pack, just like practically every other grandmother in existence. Books were stacked everywhere. Large bay windows let in a lot of light. Stiles could see that it looked out on the street where he’d parked and wondered if she’d been able to tell how nervous Stiles was coming here.

“Bodyguard?” Ethel’s voice was so cold that Stiles had to keep himself from wincing.

“Um, yes. There was.. some trouble. I’m just going home for a while, is all.”

Ethel’s eyes flashed red in her kindly, wrinkled face. It was a look that never failed to freak Stiles the fuck out. She leaned over and touched Stiles’ knee. She had to know what Derek was. Granted, the only reason she knew that Stiles was an Omega was that he had practically given birth on her doorstep, but that wasn’t because of her abilities. Stiles had been told repeatedly that he didn’t smell like a pack. He didn’t even smell like a wolf, which was fine. Stiles didn’t generally think of himself as a wolf. He certainly didn’t flaunt the Omega status; Ethel had a good handle on her pack, but Stiles had seen what other full-blooded Omegas went through, and fuck no. No thanks.

“We are not your pack, but you and your cub are very important to my daughter. To us. Why didn’t you bring your... ‘trouble’... to the pack, instead of some.” She paused. Took a calm sip of her tea that still managed to be menacing. “Interloper.”

And, yes, okay, Stiles had been lying about having a pack before but having his bullshit called in front of Derek kind of sucked ass. “Ah... well. I can handle it. Mostly. Derek is a friend of my father’s and...”

“Derek? This is Derek?”

Stiles blinked. He didn’t recall ever mentioning Derek to anyone before. He tried his best not to even think of Derek, let alone talking to anyone. He grabbed a tea cake, nervously shoving it in his face before he said something stupid. He just nodded, trying not to spray crumbs when he forced a smile.

“You know, when John first came to us, we thought he was one of the most independent Omegas we had ever seen. He did not take direction very well at all, but if he had, well. My Harper would be dead.”

Stiles felt the blood drain from his face. Derek’s gaze was like a brand on the back of his neck. Even Stiles could hear the grinding of his molars. They must be as loud as gunshots to the other werewolves in the room.

“John is not an Omega.” Derek's voice that soft, carefully blank tone that meant he was absolutely fucking furious.

Ethel laughed. “Oh, you young pup. Of course, he is. How do you think Zoe got here, hmm? Oh, well, perhaps he hasn’t told you that story. You two...” she trailed off. Stiles knew it was deliberate. No one as powerful as that gets to be that powerful without learning how to use words like fists. What he didn’t know was why she had decided to ruin his goddamn life. “You two must really not be that close.” Stiles recognized the stink-eye when he saw it. Apparently, Derek did too.

“We’re leaving.” Derek’s voice was almost a growl. Stiles felt the curl of his hand against his bicep.

Stiles glared, shaking him off. “No. We’re not. If you want to go, then please don’t let me stop you. I am going to say goodbye to my friends.”

Ethel smiled. “See what I mean? Independent. But we do so love him for it. Now, I believe you have overstayed your welcome, Mr. Bodyguard.” Stiles was facing Ethel and didn’t see anything untoward, but he had the sense of several other bodies in a small space all at once. Derek threw Stiles a furious glare but let himself be escorted back to the car. Stiles was quiet as they watched him stalk to the car. He slammed the rental's door so hard; Stiles was surprised he didn’t break the damn thing.

“You do realize that I’m going to be stuck with him on a small plane for an indeterminable length of time, right?”

Ethel smiled and drank her tea. “You might not be pack, John, but we take care of our own. I have protected you as though you were one of my own.” She raised a finger when Stiles opened his mouth. “You arrived here rather suddenly if you remember correctly. And dear boy, you might think that no one had any questions when the young ‘John Bane’ appeared on our doorstep, but I assure you that was not the case. Had you not...” she trailed off. “When that hunter shot at my Harper, and you saved her, you earned your solitude. I just ensured that you received it, my boy.”

Stiles sighed shakily. Impulsively he leaned up and kissed her cheek again. “I know. You’ve been awesome. But... but why did.” Stiles didn’t know how to phrase it. It was like she had known exactly what buttons to push, what exactly to say to Derek to get the most information across without giving away things that she couldn’t possibly know. “Why did you tell him... What. What I am?”

“Hmm. You must not remember. Understandable, I suppose. When you were in labor, the midwife was almost panicked. She did not know that you weren’t our pack, and your body was so tired, so exhausted from trying so hard to bring Zoe into the world. You called for your father several times. For someone named Scott once. And for Derek. You cried for him. You had some of the younger pups almost howling with your grief.”

Stiles blinked hard several times. He hadn’t known.

“It just seemed fitting.” She shrugged unconcernedly. “You are lucky, though. His protectiveness was almost tangible. Had he not felt so obviously... concerned with your well-being, I would have done what I swore to do when we heard you cry for him.” She took another sip of her tea, smiling when Zoe and Harper banged through the door. “I would have ripped out his throat.”

Zoe threw herself around Stiles’ leg, and Harper sprawled in the chair beside him. “You okay?”

“Uh. Yes. Yeah, I’m fine.” Stiles wasn’t sure exactly what to feel. “But I do have to go. We have a plane to catch.”

Harper frowned. “You know if you need me, I’ll be there, right?”

Stiles grinned. He did. Harper was probably his best friend. “Yeah. But it will be okay. Just some weirdo freaked me out a little. It will be good to see my dad again, though.”

Harper looked like she wanted to say something else but kept quiet. Instead, she hugged Stiles and walked him and Zoe to the door. “You’re sure, John?” She opened the door then turned to him.

Stiles smiled. “Yeah. He’s just kind of a sourwolf. I’ll be fine.”

She bit her lip then got the same devilish grin on her face. Stiles didn’t even have time to react before she was kissing him again, her hands reaching down to grab his ass. She pulled away quickly, with a laugh only to bounce up to whisper in his ear. “He really doesn’t like me kissing you.”

Stiles knew he was blushing. “Yeah? Well, it’s kind of weird for me. You sure Jenna’s not going to rip off my balls?”

Harper snorted. “She’s possessive too.” Her grin turned wicked. “It does have its perks, you know. It’s going to drive him crazy, smelling me on you.” She looked down at Zoe and made a little face. “Er. The kid might put a kink in the plans, but damn, John. If he’s here, then he’s gotta feel something for you.”

Stiles shook his head. “Nah. I can promise you he doesn’t feel anything for me but disgust.” Stiles was certain on that score. Derek had made that very clear. “This ... possessive thing that he’s doing is just because he’s working for my dad.” They hugged one more time, and Stiles grabbed Zoe’s hand, walking down the long sidewalk to the street where Derek was sitting in the rental car.

Stiles buckled her into her seat, then came around to the passenger-side to slide into the car. He and Zoe waved, but Zoe was already yawning as they backed up. She’d always been pretty good about sleeping in a car. After being sick last week, and the crazy sleep schedule from last night, she was pretty out of it. Normally she let it be known from the top of her tiny little lungs how displeased she was to be leaving Harper. Instead, she yawned again and got that glassy-eyed look that meant she was fighting sleep with everything she had.

Derek, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with rage. He stared directly ahead, his hands gripping the wheel hard enough that he left little grooves in the plastic.

Stiles licked his lips. “Uh. Sorry about that. Ethel can be... something else.” He kept his voice low, knowing Zoe was on the edge of sleep. “She means well, though. She’s been keeping the pack together for.. ah. Awhile.”

“You said that you were part of her pack.”

Yep. Definitely pissed.

Stiles shrugged. “Well. I just didn’t want to deal with your...” he waved his hand around. “Stuff. You know, your whole I-am-Alpha-hear-me-roar thing. It gets old.” There was a small voice inside of his head telling him to shut up. “I think you’re just pissed that you didn’t figure out that I wasn’t completely human. That’s discrimination, you know.”

Derek made a low sound. Stiles tried to tell himself that it didn’t make his mouth dry. He wasn’t exactly sure when he decided to start poking the angry beast with the stick, but. It felt good. Petty, sure. But it felt good to get a bit of revenge for what Derek had done to him.

“My parents never let Omegas in the pack. For a good reason, I guess. Laura used to tell me about what they were. How much trouble they cause. In heat, what. Six? Seven times a year? What did you do, jump the dick of the first guy you met at school until he knocked you up?”

Stiles felt his smile turn nasty. “Maybe I did. I guess I never got around to thanking you. I mean, yeah, when I left Beacon Hills, I was pretty” Broken. Heart-sore. “Upset. But you really did me a favor. No one wants to be a virgin when they go to college.” Stiles shrugged, all at once finding it absolutely ridiculous that they could be having this conversation in furious whispers- both being careful not to wake the sleeping toddler in the backseat.

Stiles didn’t even know where all this was coming from. He was lucky that there were so many other emotions crammed into the car that Derek couldn’t call him on his bullshit. Hearing what Derek really thought of him shouldn’t have hurt so much. But it did. Oh, God. It did. “I guess it worked out for me, though. I mean, I got Zoe out of it. Her father isn’t...” Oh, hell no, Stilinski. Don’t even go there.

“Her father isn’t here,” Derek growled, the plastic of the steering wheel giving an alarming groan.

“Nope. He sure isn’t. He wasn’t there when she was born. He wasn’t there when she got her first tooth or when she said her first word. She doesn’t miss him, and neither do I.” Lies. Jesus, when had he turned into such a damn liar? “But what I’m having trouble with getting here, Derek, is... why do you even care?”

Derek didn’t say anything, ignoring the question as though Stiles hadn’t spoken.

It was a long, long ride to the airport.


TBC

Chapter Text

The camera’s lens zoomed in on the abandoned house. He switched the view from the child’s bedroom, painstakingly painted and decaled into a bright, friendly place. He’d watched as Stiles had tried to figure out how to wallpaper the bottom half of the room, how difficult it had been for him to manage the sticky paper and the glue, how hard it had been for Stiles to get the seams even. Everyone knew that wallpapering was really a two-person job. He’d smiled when Stiles had realized that one panel had gone up upside down, then leaned forward, feeling his hard cock press against the unforgiving edge of the desk as he reached forward to touch the monitor, wishing that he could taste Stiles’ frustrated tears.

Now the room was pretty. When Zoe was theirs, he would be sure to let Stiles recreate it.

Stiles had spared nothing for Zoe’s comfort. The toddler bed was silver, with a princess canopy that the two of them would play peek-a-boo through. Her clothes were neatly organized by season in an old-fashioned wardrobe. On a table next to Zoe’s bed sat a light mobile and an iPod dock that had different classical and children’s songs programmed in it. He had always loved the fact that Stiles was just as likely to have the Beatles’ You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away playing after Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet’s Overture, followed by Elmo’s version of Five Little Ducks. The carpet was a soft-looking lavender. He had never been able to touch it, but it did look soft. He’d spent hours watching the tiny Zoe playing, seen the games of horsey where Stiles galloped her around the house. He had only put one camera in the room. He would often zoom in on her, watching her sleep. It made him feel closer to Stiles to watch his child. Like a father would.

Stiles didn’t have a lot of clutter in his room. He only had a full-sized bed. Didn’t bother with expensive sheets or designer bedclothes. There was a large headboard covered with books, papers, and journals. Stiles was forever getting an idea for something and jotting it down on paper. A small desk in the corner had held Stiles’ laptop. Stiles’ room had three different cameras. One was situated so that he could always see the emotions on Stiles’ face when he walked into his room. The other was a wide-angle camera, allowing him to see everything from the window to the closet. The third camera was situated so that he had a close-up view of Stiles’ bed. Stiles had left his phone charger on the pillow. He’d been nervous, almost twitching as he packed his belongings to go back to Beacon Hills.

And oh, how he’d hated. Absolutely fucking hated seeing Derek Hale in Stiles’ space. He’d been so furious that he’d broken one of the computers, sending it flying when the cameras in the living room had caught the way Derek watched Stiles run around his house, eyes sick with worry whenever Stiles looked away. Saw how the alpha had had to check himself from helping Stiles, how he had clearly tried to keep his distance, giving Stiles what space he could.

He was the only one allowed to watch. One day he’d be allowed to touch.

It wouldn’t be long now. It wouldn’t be long before Stiles was back where he belonged.

***

Stiles’ knees popped when he stood, hefting Zoe up into his arms with a grunt.

“Do you---“

“Go fuck yourself.” Stiles had hissed at Derek’s half-assed attempt to help Stiles with Zoe, his backpack, and Zoe’s backpack. Derek had just glared like he had any reason or right to be pissed.

“Aren’t bodyguards supposed to be unobtrusive or something? You stick out like a sore thumb.” It had been worse having Derek standing behind him in line. Stiles could actually feel the weight of Derek’s stare on the back of his neck, and even though Stiles told himself that he was ridiculous, the tiniest thread of guilt was starting to breach his defenses. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Stiles had always had the absolute worst luck when it came to Derek Hale, and frankly, he didn’t see that changing in the near future.

Zoe was a sleepy weight in his arms. She was heavy, but it was comforting to have her breathing softly against his cheek. Stiles marked her, rubbing his cheek over and over against the top of her sweet-smelling head, nerves making his stomach roll. The airline made them buy an extra seat for her. Stiles didn’t really mind. He was pretty sure he’d made his point when he’d upgraded his and Zoe’s seats to first class with a few quick clicks on his tablet, leaving Derek to languish in coach. And if his point was that he was a dick, well, fine. Stiles could be a dick about this. Besides, Derek’s face when he’d realized what Stiles had done had been worth the extra two thousand bucks.

Stiles knew that he should probably wake Zoe up, but she was so tired. He got her settled in the seat next to his, next to the window with her blanket and an airline pillow. She had given him a really foul look when he buckled her in but had fallen right back to sleep.

He had waited until they were in the air before asking the flight attendant to speak with her supervisor. “Sorry, but I’m having an issue with another passenger, and I just wanted to make sure that he wasn’t allowed to move up here.”

Stiles touched the bruise on his face from when he’d faceplanted into the concrete. Jesus, was that only yesterday morning? It seemed like it was ages ago. “I just... if you don’t mind… my daughter…” Stiles kind of felt bad for manipulating him, but technically nothing was a lie. The attendant’s face hardened as Stiles described Derek.

“No problem, sir. We’ll be sure to let you and your daughter disembark first. Did you need anything else?”

Stiles smiled wanly and shook his head. “No. I think I’m just going to take a nap. It’s been a rough few days.”

Again, not a lie.

****

Stiles felt like a zombie. It seemed ridiculous now. How excited he’d been, how proud of his scholarship. Two weeks ago, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison had all driven down to Orientation. They’d had plans to get an apartment together. The apartment had been huge. Each of them had their own bedroom, and the living room had a couch that folded out into a bed, so when the pack visited (as everyone had known would happen, of course), there would be plenty of room. Now though, Stiles had managed to get a bed in the freshman dorms. He’d listened to the RA’s spiel and unpacked his stuff without speaking to anyone. Stiles had thought he’d seen Lydia’s red hair once, but he’d managed to lose himself in the crowd of excited students and nervous parents so that he wouldn’t have to speak to her.

His roommate was on the baseball team, and both he and Stiles avoided each other fairly well. Stiles liked to lose himself in the huge library and only showed up to sleep. His roommate had a buddy with a place, so he didn’t sleep there very much.

It hadn’t taken much to break into the campus computers to make absolutely certain that he had no classes with Allison or Lydia. Stiles had even managed to set a flag on both of them should either of them attempt to change their schedule. Stiles had put a lot of thought into the route from his dorm to his classes. There was one trouble spot where both he and Lydia had a class in the same building, but Stiles was just very, very careful so that there were no incidents. Not like Lydia had ever taken more than a bare notice of him, but Allison... Still, they were best friends, and Stiles was all about protecting himself.

It had been harder than he thought to concentrate. Classes seemed endless. Stiles had picked up some kind of bug or something. It sucked. He’d hoarked up more food than he managed to keep down. So much for the freshman fifteen. If anything, Stiles was losing weight at an alarming rate.

The first and second months passed, with Stiles barely communicating with anyone. He avoided his dad’s calls until he couldn’t anymore, then had lied so convincingly that he had hated himself. Yes, classes were challenging. No, his roommate wasn’t a nightmare. Yes, Lydia and Allison were fine. No, he didn’t need any money.

He didn’t tell his dad that he spent a lot of time hiding in the library or sleeping in his dorm. Of how many classes he’d skipped.

He definitely didn’t mention that he had run into Allison by accident in the quad how she had stared at him like she’d seen a ghost, guilt and worry fighting for dominance on her pretty, deceitful face. She had only taken one step forward, the broken, “Stiles?” falling from her lips before Stiles was whirling, literally sprinting away from the quad as though the hounds of hell were after him. He’d found himself in Palo Alto, somewhere near the water before he’d been able to slow down, bending over and sucking in oxygen.

There’d been tears on his face.

It took almost an hour to get his breathing under control. The panic attack had been a bad one, but Stiles had been careful to hide in a copse of trees off the main road, and no one had bothered him.

Stiles didn’t go home for Thanksgiving break.

He did, however, find out that he was pregnant.

And that, of course, fucked up everything.

****

Being shot really fucking hurt. Stiles hadn’t really been looking forward to any of the pack’s I-told-you-so’s, but he hadn’t really expected this.

Erica and Isaac had looked at him like he was an idiot, which okay. It had been pretty stupid to go there alone, but his plan had worked, hadn’t it? Stiles was an excellent distraction. No one could withstand the full Stilinski Experience. It was like the Stilinski Babble, but in like, Technicolor and hi-def. Basically, Stiles was awesome, and he didn’t really think it was all that fair that he continually be left out of stuff. His ideas might be a tad bit dangerous, and okay, maybe a little crazy on the initial outset, but… nine times out of ten… well, okay, maybe more like seven times out of ten, they totally worked.

This had been the tenth time, though.

Stiles hadn’t really had a chance to regret the fact that he’d been caught making out with the guy. He really, really hadn’t expected the shame he’d felt or the way his skin had crawled when his ‘date’ had curled his hand around Stiles’ hip like it had any reason to be there. It had been all part of the plan. It was just that Derek and Scott had busted in on the plan before he could see it through to its awesome fruition.

He hadn’t expected the guy- some asshole Derek was waving his dick at over territory or something- to actually shoot him, though. One second, Stiles had seen the blankness on Derek’s face as he’d pulled away from the kiss. Hell, Scott had looked more horrified than Derek, which okay. That hadn’t been cool. Stiles might not have gone all out and proud, but he’d never thought Scott would have a problem with the gay thing, but Scott had looked like he really fucked something up. Like Stiles had crossed a line or something. He’d gone to the dance with Danny of all people. The next second, his ‘date’ was calmly reaching into his clothes to pull out a gun, growling about how the wolfsbane and silver-laced bullets would ensure that Stiles would say goodbye to his friends.

Stiles had grabbed for it.

Unsuccessfully, as it turned out. Yeah. That hadn’t been part of the plan. Neither had the two bullets that he’d managed to take, one to his chest and one to his thigh as he wrestled to keep the gun away from Derek and Scott.

Fortunately, he’d blacked out for the rest of it. Stiles had woken up to his father’s grey face and a pack that tiptoed around him like they weren’t quite what to do with him.

Not exactly how he’d planned spending the first two months after graduation- that was for sure.

While he’d been busy recuperating, Stiles had seen Scott a few times. Erica and Isaac a few times. He had hardly seen Boyd or Derek at all, which okay. Stiles got it. Derek was still pissed that Stiles hadn’t waited in his room like a good little boy. Boyd was pretty much loyal to whatever Derek wanted, so Stiles hadn’t really been planning on playing gin rummy with either of them for a while.

It hadn’t been until the end of July that Derek had thawed. Slowly he had started to talk to Stiles again. To include him in pack business. To ask him to research again.

Their first kiss had surprised Stiles so much that he’d almost fallen down the stairs.

His leg still wasn’t terrific. The bullet had done some muscle damage, and it gave him an odd twinge now and then. Stiles had been complaining of this with great prejudice when Derek had stopped on Stiles’ stairs, then had turned and tilted Stiles’ mouth up for a kiss. Stiles had felt his leg give out on him. He would have fallen down the rest of the stairs if Derek hadn’t grabbed his shirt.

Stiles’ mind had completely short-circuited.

When he had accepted the ‘date’ (it would forever be in quotes in Stiles’ mind, he had felt extremely creepy when the guy had turned and planted one on him, his skin had crawled. Stiles had kissed back, but it hadn’t been easy to keep his mouth occupied when his brain was shrieking ew! Ew! The worst first kiss ever! at him.) He’d done it so Derek and the pack could sneak into his house and get the proof of what they needed… well. Something. Stiles hadn’t really been listening. But they’d needed the dude to be long gone from his house.

His second kiss? Holy freaking God. Stiles hadn’t ever heard himself make that tiny, needy sound before. Derek had just pressed his lips to Stiles’; there had only been the barest hint of a tongue at the closed seam of his mouth, but it was like fireworks had gone off in his head.

Derek had pulled away, and Stiles couldn’t help the way he licked his lips, still stunned into silence.

“I’m glad that your leg is better. I don’t like it when you get hurt, Stiles.”

Stiles had just blinked. He wondered if he could lean in again for another kiss, but the sound of his dad opening the front door had caused Derek to scurry up the stairs and out Stiles’ window like some sort of fugitive.

A kiss was shocking enough. Dating Derek Hale? Yeah. Stiles remembered a very vivid conversation with a baffled Scott about totems and whether he’d been incepted because shit like this didn’t happen to him. The crush he’d more or less pushed away, starved so that it would shrivel up and die, was blooming again, and Stiles didn’t know quite how to stop it.

Movies. Making out in his car. Hikes in the woods. Shopping for his share of the stuff for the apartment. Making out in his room. Derek was moving at a glacial speed even though Stiles helpfully reminded him that he would be leaving in just a few weeks for college.

Derek had just gotten a strained sort of smile on his face, would kiss Stiles quickly, and tell him that the time wasn’t right yet.

Shame that he had never thought to ask Derek what exactly he was waiting for.

Funny thing that.

***

Stiles couldn’t catch his breath.

“I think I’m nervous.”

Derek scraped his teeth over Stiles’ nipple, and Stiles couldn’t help the way he arched up towards the heat of Derek’s mouth. “Do you want me to stop?” Derek flicked the tip of his tongue at the pebbled nipple, and Stiles whined, screwing his eyes shut at the sensation. Derek pulled at it with his lips, stretching the small, tight bit of skin until Stiles wasn’t sure if it hurt or if it felt good, but his dick was definitely on board.

He was so embarrassed at how wet he was. The jeans he was wearing were soaked almost through, the musky scent of his precome thick in the air. Stiles felt like if he didn’t fucking come soon, then he was going to die. He arched again when Derek moved his mouth down over his ribs, biting a little harder this time as he squirmed. Derek pushed the heel of his hand against Stiles’ cock, and Stiles gasped, coming all over himself with a cry of Derek's name.

“Look at you… Jesus, Stiles.” Derek pressed his face against Stiles’ crotch, sucking at the material until Stiles squirmed, pressing his dick against the clammy, wet fabric, desperate for the heat of Derek’s mouth. Stiles didn’t even think that his cock cared that he’d already come. He was still as hard as before, sensation rolling through his gut as Derek breathed him in.

“No. I don’t want to stop.” Stiles had to laugh at the ridiculousness of everything.

He’d woken up feeling… weird. Humping his mattress. He’d jerked off twice before he got in the shower, and that had helped for a bit. He’d even thought for a few minutes that Scott had slipped him some Viagra or something as a joke… but Scott had been weirdly absent, busy with some task that Derek had given him. They had plans to get together later. Lydia was having a going-away party, and Stiles was really excited for it. Derek had even promised to take him, which was also weird. Usually, they hung out alone. Not that Stiles minded, really. Any time with Derek was awesome. But it would be nice to actually show him off!

The weird- too hyped feeling had lasted with him all day. Stiles had been half hard in his jeans for the two hours he’d fucked around on his Xbox, enjoying not being in high school anymore and not having to be... well, anywhere really.

Then Derek had texted him, asking if he wanted to come over, and Stiles had been horrified at the way he’d just slipped his hand into his jeans, lazily fisting his cock after texting back. Stiles had come right there on his couch and had only avoided his dad finding out by rolling off onto the floor. He wiped his hand on his jeans, then curled his body up to hide the wet patch over his dick until his dad had turned his back, then slunk to his room to shower (again!) and change.

He’d practically jumped Derek when he’d gotten there, and instead of keeping things nice and slow, Derek had been completely into it. He’d lifted Stiles up, kissing him, pressing their bodies together, licking into his mouth, and Stiles was gone, lost in the feel of Derek finally against him, overwhelming him.

That was the second time Derek had asked him if he wanted to stop, though.

“I’m finally here in your bed. We have the whole day. Holy shit, I think I’m still hard. Is that even possible? Can we get these jeans off?”

Something flashed across Derek’s face too quickly for Derek to catch the expression, but with a little wiggle that Stiles was just sure looked as sexy in reality as it did in his head, unbuttoning his sopping wet jeans and kicking them off.

“I guess I’m just.. really, really wet. Uh, sorry. Is that a problem?” Derek was staring down at him with his jaw tight. He almost looked pissed, and Stiles winced, sitting up a little on Derek’s bed, feeling a little disgusted with himself. “Which.. oh. Of course, you are.” Stiles scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling the blush as it spread down his neck, over his chest. “Look, I can just…”

Derek stopped him with his hand on Stiles’ hip. “Turn over.”

Stiles knew he was gaping and bit his lip, awkwardly turning over and looking back over his shoulder, not quite sure where to put legs and arms that seemed all at once way too long.

“I can’t believe you got yourself ready for me.”

Derek’s fingers were hot against his ass, pushing his hips until Stiles stuck his ass up in the air, trying not to compare himself to a bitch in heat as he felt Derek behind him. Stiles’ brow crinkled. Did Derek mean… before? When he’d jerked off so many times? Cuz that really wasn’t helping. Stiles felt like he could go off again, just from feeling the rough material of Derek’s jeans brushing against him. Stiles went hot all over when he realized that Derek wasn’t even naked. Did that mean he wanted him? Like- badly enough that he hadn’t even stripped? He tried to ignore the little voice inside of him that insisted that was a sign of how much Derek couldn’t keep his hands off him, that maybe his … feelings? Maybe they weren’t one-sided.

“You’re so fucking ready, Stiles. Stiles.!”

Stiles shivered at the low growl underlying Derek’s voice and cried out when Derek slid two fingers inside him. It didn’t even hurt, which... okay, that was weird. Stiles had always heard that it did. Maybe he’d come so much that he was just relaxed. The precome had slid down between his asscheeks. Derek must have used enough to make it feel good. Or werewolves had magical lubing fingers, which hello. It was totally possible. Stiles must have missed Derek slicking his fingers up. That pissed him off.

He wanted to remember everything from this night.

Stiles bit his lip when Derek’s fingers slipped even further inside of him, found him ready, and jerked out of his twitching, needy hole with a rough jerk of his fingers. There was the sound of a zipper loud in the room over the panting cries that Stiles couldn’t stop. He kept pushing back when Derek lifted him slightly, sliding his cock into him with one smooth movement.

Both Stiles and Derek cried out, their cries mingling in the early evening air. Stiles grunted when Derek slammed his hips back onto his cock, shifting balls deep with each hard thrust. Stiles just muffled his cries in the pillow, but oh. Oh fucking Jesus, he couldn’t stop making noise, greedy, frantic sounds as he came all over himself again, shuddering when Derek didn’t stop, fucking him through it. Derek’s hand closed over Stiles’ slippery cock. He bit Stiles’ neck, and Stiles saw white when he came again, slumping down onto the mattress.

Stiles felt sticky, slick fluid on his thighs and wondered if Derek had come too, but no. Derek made a dark sound, and Stiles felt the thickness at the base of Derek’s cock as it started to jerk inside of him. The feeling made his brain come back online, and all of a sudden, Stiles realized what he that was. He thurst back onto Derek’s cock as the knot swelled, hot pulses of Derek’s come painting his insides, adding to the mess. As though that was some signal his body had been waiting for, Stiles felt some of the weird, jittery feeling dissipate. Derek slumped over him, breathing heavily into Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing against the mark he’d made.

Stiles sucked in a shaky breath, wiggling under Derek’s heaviness. Derek moved so that they were on their sides, spoon-fashion, still tied together. Stiles gave an experimental squeeze of his ass and grinned when Derek shuddered behind him. Derek just slid his hand over the sweat—well, he hoped it was sweat, but God knew—on Stiles’ chest, over his heart. Pressed lightly against the new, pink skin of the scar from where he’d been shot. He didn’t say anything. Neither did Derek.

And he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. It was just like… well. His dad had once said that he knew he loved Stiles’ mom; by the way, his heart and his gut felt like they’d traded places half the time, how he had never felt more content as when he was with her. “I know this timing isn’t the best, but…”

Derek tensed behind him. Stiles felt it- felt every single muscle in Derek’s body tighten until there was no give to him.

“I’m in love with you.” Stiles wanted to wince at the nervous burble of sound. “Derek… I…”

There was a heartbeat of silence. Two. By the third, Stiles already wished he could take the words back. What was he thinking? What was he thinking? Derek was still tense, holding himself so tightly that the unnaturalness of the pose was starting to freak him out.

“Ha!” The bark of laugher actually had Stiles flinching away from Derek’s chest.

What?

“I told you I could do it. Pay up.”

What? Stiles’ blinked, utterly baffled.

Boyd and Scott stepped into the room. Stiles tried to jerk away, wincing when the knot pulled. He didn’t know what to do, tried to cover himself with a startled squeak.

“That’s nice. Easiest hundred bucks I ever made.” Boyd’s deep voice was too loud. It didn’t make any sense.

“Derek?” The small whisper slipped out before Stiles could stop it. He felt Derek shifting behind his body. Hateful, hurtful embarrassment was crawling over Stiles’ skin. Scott wouldn’t look him in the eyes, but his laugh made Stiles want to puke. “You…. You guys made a … a bet?”

“Fuck yeah, he made a bet. For what it’s worth, I told him there’s no way you’d be so stupid to fall for it. Guess I was wrong, huh?” Erica’s voice made Stiles jerk away from Derek again, wincing as the knot slipped out of his ass. It hurt this time. Pain flared as a punch, and Stiles sucked in a pained whimper, jerking away from where Derek sprawled on the bed, ignoring how his cock lay, wet and sticky out of his jeans. “Oh, Derek” Her voice was a high-pitched falsetto. I woooove youuu.” Erica mocked, and Stiles staggered, his legs not holding him when he slid out of bed. He caught himself against the footboard but couldn’t… he couldn’t.

“That’s enough.” Derek's voice was low. Stiles barely heard him over the sound of Erica and Boyd's snort or of Scott's laugh. He still wouldn't meet Stiles' gaze. Scott tossed Stiles’ jeans at him, and Stiles pulled them on with short, jerky movements. His throat was tight, and he could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. He felt filthy, covered in come from both their bodies. Used. So fucking confused.

“You guys hit it.” Derek stretched, his voice twisted with something Stiles didn’t recognize. No, that’s not true. He did. He remembered it from years ago when Derek hated him. “Maybe I can convince him to go another round. Look at him. He’d go for it. All he’s got is this.”

Stiles couldn’t have said if Scott and the others had left. He wasn’t aware that he was shaking his head ‘no’ until Derek’s cutting grin made him jerk his head away, not looking at Derek. This was. Was this a joke? This didn’t make …

“But. I thought you were supposed to … to take care of your pack?”

Derek’s laugh was like a knife, cutting so deeply that Stiles knew he’d feel the sting every time he let himself remember today.

“You aren’t my pack. Are you kidding me? All you do is fuck things up, then need one of my wolves to come rescue you. When Scott offered me a bet, it was just a joke. He knew you’d go for it. Fifty if I could get you to fuck, a hundred if I could get you to say that you.” Derek’s voice cracked a little. “Loved me. And you did, didn’t you? Fucking gagging for my cock.” Derek cupped himself. To Stiles’ wide eyes, his hand looked huge. Stiles felt his stomach roll again. “Although we didn’t get to that, I guess.” That laugh again.

Stiles thought that it would have been less painful if Derek had just punched him. He didn’t bother looking for the rest of his clothes. He didn’t do anything; whirling and running, tripping twice when his leg started to give out on him. Stiles couldn’t see with the tears in his eyes, but he could hear the pack-- Derek’s real pack—laughing at him when he ran by. Allison tried to stop him, and Stiles almost bowled her over, desperate to get away.

He’d had to pull over to lose it, crying and shaking so much that he almost wrapped his jeep around a tree. Stupid. He was so, so fucking stupid. He didn’t understand why Scott would- or how Derek could... and. And Erica’s voice rang in his head until Stiles pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, sucking in oxygen. He wiped the snot and tears off of his face with the back of his arm, the thought of Derek or someone else finding him spurring him into action. He made it to his house, into a shower, washing his body, trying to feel less like a stupid, stupid kid.

Why. Why had he told Derek that? Why hadn’t he seen? Of course, now it made sense. Derek had started fooling around with him so suddenly. Stiles had thought foolishly that it was because he had been waiting for Stiles to graduate. Now though. Now he knew that it had just been for the bet.

He couldn’t stay here.

He had to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe he could go early for college. Classes started in a few days anyway. He could just… get out. Leave Beacon Hills and just go.

Stiles couldn’t help the whining, broken sound he made when he remembered the sound of Derek’s laugh.

Stiles couldn’t help the sharp bark of his own laughter. He’d wanted to remember this night for forever. Well. It looks like he was gonna get his wish.

He was so fucking stupid.

***

Stiles jerked awake when Zoe reached up a small hand to his face. Her sleepy smile took him out of his memory and back into the present.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi, daddy. My ears hurt.” Zoe stretched her mouth open, working her jaw until her ear popped. She wrinkled up her nose, and Stiles leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“It’s because we’re on a plane. Do you want to see?”

More curious than scared, Zoe cocked her head in a way that was pure Derek. Stiles leaned over and pulled up the window shade.

“Wooo-www! It’s like the Care Bears!”

"Better keep looking. I bet you’ll see one. Are you hungry?”

Zoe couldn’t care less about food when there was the potential for Care Bear spottage. Stiles took in a deep, shaky breath, then asked the flight attendant for a soda.

“How long until we’re due to land?”

“Not too long. We’ll begin our descent in an hour.”

Stiles smiled his thanks. An hour. It seemed completely surreal that he’d be back in California in just under an hour. Stiles hadn’t been there since he’d left school, riding buses and hitching rides across the country after he’d sold his jeep, trying to get as far away from this side of the country as possible.

Zoe’s hand slowly stretched over towards Stiles’. Their fingers entwined. Stiles sucked in a shaky breath, his throat tight. An hour. An hour and he’d be back home.

Then God knew what would happen.

(To be continued! Please don't kill me. I promise this will make sense later.)

Chapter Text

 Stiles didn’t know he was biting his lip until the sharp burst of pain flared brightly. It focused on him. Nerves had made him a complete wreck while he was in the car. Guilt made him want to puke.  Derek had been breathing down his neck the entire time they disembarked and got their luggage like Stiles couldn’t be trusted to get from point A to point B by himself.

The car had been another fight.   Derek had wanted to drive his own vehicle, one that he’d left in airport parking.  Stiles had absolutely refused to try to get a car seat in that fucking death trap of a Camaro (and yeah, so his priorities had changed because he used to practically get hard when he heard the low growl of that engine)  and had rented a car instead.  But the closer and closer he got to Beacon Hills, the more and more his stomach began to twist and curl in on itself.  

It had been a blessing that Derek hadn’t bothered a conversation, instead of ignoring him as completely as Stiles was ignoring Derek, going so far as to fiddle around on his phone. Stiles had smirked really nastily when he saw which game Derek was playing, though.  

Zoe had finally had enough of going through so many time zones and was crying pitifully in the back seat. Still, Stiles was torn between wanting to apologize for Zoe’s whining and wanting to congratulate her for being loud enough; he just knew the sound was like ice picks drilling into Derek’s brain.

Sometimes Stiles wasn’t a very nice person.

Still, turning down the familiar street caused Stiles’ hands to clench tightly on the steering wheel. Zoe had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, so Stiles was sure that his thundering heartbeat was just as easy for Derek to hear.

“He. He will be glad to see you.” There was the whaa whaa whaaa sound of the little character on Derek’s game dying, and Stiles had to widen his eyes at the feeling of surreality.

“Yeah.”  Stiles pulled into his driveway, put the car in park, and sat there for a moment, exhaling on a shuddery breath.  

Stiles got out of the car, and his dad was just there, and oh fuck. He hadn’t cried in a while over what he’d done, but fuck. Damn, it was good to feel his dad’s arms around him again. Instinctively, even while enjoying his dad’s hug so much that Stiles was half afraid that he was going to start bawling right there, he moved so that his body was blocking the SUV’s windows. They were slightly tinted, but. But. Oh, fuck, how was he going to do this?

“Stiles.”

He had to try twice before he could get the words out of his throat. “Dad. Hi.”

“‘Dad, hi’?! Oh my god, I don’t know if I want to hug you or beat the shit out of you.”  But his arms tightened, and Stiles recognized the broken catch in his voice that meant his dad was trying to keep his shit together. The last time he’d heard it, Stiles had woken up in the hospital after being shot.

“Hugs are good.”

He heard the door slam and realized that Derek was standing on the other side of the car door, watching them with face gone completely blank.  Stiles pulled away from his dad and cleared his throat. There wasn’t a good way to unload this on his dad, so it would probably be less painful if he just... did it.

“So. Uh. Dad. Did I tell you about the woman in my life?”  His dad raised an eyebrow, probably trying to reconcile the fact Stiles was with a being with actual lady parts. Which, yeah.. no. Not so much. Stiles took in a deep breath. “Well. The thing is, she’s a little younger than you... oh, Jesus, no. Not that.” Stiles broke off at the horrified look on his dad’s face.  Derek made a small sound behind him, and Stiles saw red.  He turned.  “Derek. You’re so done here. Good bodyguard. Good boy. Now fuck off so I can talk to my dad.”

“You can talk to him with me--”

“No, actually, Derek. Me and Stiles should go inside. You go home. I’ve got it. We can start to pull things together tomorrow. I’ll be in the office around nine.”

“You might be a little later than that, Mark. But yeah. It’s definitely time for me to go.”

“Thanks, Derek.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

Stiles snorted. Yeah. No problem for him.  And what the actual fuck. Derek calling his dad by his first name? That was just fucked up. Stiles didn’t even call his dad by his first name. Stiles just continued to ignore him, giving Derek his back while still blocking his dad’s view of the inside of the car.

He missed the way Derek blurred and loaped off, but his dad’s gaze was firmly on him again and...  “Dad. Uh. I have something to tell you, and it’s going to be a bit of a ... that is to say that you don’t have those heart issues anymore, right? Because maybe you should get those little pills just in--”

"Stiles. Did you get some girl pregnant?”

Stiles opened his mouth and started to laugh. He laughed until he was crying, bracing himself against the car. His dad looked baffled but waited him out.  He guessed that waiting out that particular brand of crazy was something that a father didn’t forget. Stiles slowly got himself under control, wiping the tears away from his eyes and standing up from where he’d slumped against the door.

“Uh. No. Not quite. Dad, this. I.” Stiles opened the car door, stepping aside. “ I want you to meet your granddaughter. Zoe.”

His dad blinked. Looked at Stiles. Looked in at the sleeping Zoe.  He was silent for several minutes.

Stiles finally couldn’t look at him anymore, turning to unbuckle Zoe out of the car, kissing her forehead when she shifted in his grip, her mouth still open as she continued to emit the tiny little snores that never failed to make Stiles smile.

“Jesus, Stiles.”  

Yeah. That about summed it up.

***

The next few hours were ... tense. Stiles’ watched his dad swallow hard, watched the almost hungry way his eyes ran over Zoe’s sleeping form. When she woke up, his dad had just rolled with it, making both Zoe and Stiles a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some carrot sticks.  It was the same lunch he’d made Stiles for most of his childhood.  The realization-  well. No. That wasn’t true. Stiles has known that his choice was going to hurt his dad. He’d known and done it anyway, which was why Stiles had trouble keeping eye contact. They moved to the living room after lunch. Zoe had some dolls with her and played quietly on the carpet.

Stiles’ dad just sat there in the living room while Zoe played and ran around and generally acted like a two-year-old who had been cooped up in tiny spaces for the better part of a day.

Stiles... wasn’t sure what to do.  

“Dad?”  

“She’s yours. This is your baby.”

“Yeah.”

“No. I mean... she’s yours.”

And all at once, Stiles got it.  He winced. “Yeah. It turns out the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. Mom...”  But he trailed off. He watched his dad think.

“We thought that you were going to take after my human side.”

“Yeah. I know. And it looks like I mostly do. I hadn’t even realized I was in... uh. Heat. The rest was kind of a shock too.” Unconsciously he rubbed his stomach. When he saw his dad’s gaze narrowed on him, Stiles made himself stop. He hadn’t felt this twitchy since he was in school and needed ridiculous amounts of medicine to keep his brain focused.

“I hate to sound like a seventeenth-century manor owner- but what about the other father?”

Stiles winced. “Uh. Dad... I know that I owe you a lot of explanations. But that one is going to have to ... I mean...”  It killed him to watch the understanding flicker through the numbness of his dad’s expression like he deserved it.  “Dad, I know I fucked up, okay? I know it. But. It’s just...”

“Hey.”  His dad yanked him into another hug. “Hey, now. None of that. We can figure this out.”  

Stiles’ face was mushed up uncomfortably against his dad’s shoulder; his eyes felt like they were burning. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

His dad made a kind of awkward harumphing sound and pulled away. “So.. here’s what we’re going to do. You’re gonna go up and sleep. You look like you haven’t slept in about a week and a half. I’m going to take this little sweetheart here to the park so that she can burn off some of this energy. After you sleep, and after we eat the lasagna that I made, we are going to talk. And you, Stiles Stanley Stilinski, are going to sit your happy ass down and tell me everything. Every single thing that happened since you hightailed it out of here. Everything.  You got it, kid?”

Stiles nodded. Sleep sounded amazing. Sleep sounded like perfection. “I’ve ... never left her with someone for very long. “ He hadn’t. Not even Harper.

His dad raised an eyebrow. “Kid. If I can raise you without either one of us coming to grievous mental or physical harm, then I think I can handle taking one little girl to the park. Now get your ass upstairs.”

Sleep was pulling at him with long, elegant fingers. He babbled something about making sure to use her pull-ups and to make sure she had a jacket (he only saw his dad roll his eyes once), but his words were slightly slurred. It felt like it took him twenty minutes to pull himself up his stairs and flop onto his old bed.  

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

***
The scratch of nails on the pane of window glass woke him up out of a sound sleep. Stiles blinked into his pillow for a second, confused as to how it could still be light when he’d gone to sleep with it being...oh. Of course.  It had only been about ten when they’d gotten on the plane.  This was like time travel. His phone was showing that he’d only slept for about two hours.

Stiles’ whole body jerked when he realized what he was hearing.  Since he was a sophomore, the scritch of nails at his window meant there was a werewolf dropping in to see him. His whole high school career had seemed like he was hearing that sound and stumbling into action.  Now? It made him absolutely fucking furious.

Stiles jumped up and was stalking over to the window before he quite knew what was going on.

Scott crouched there, looking at Stiles. He looked almost ecstatic. His brown eyes had lit up with happiness; his mouth stretched in a wide, pleased grin. Stiles realized that his fingers were trembling when he slowly slid the window open, but he didn’t move back.

“Get. Out.”

Scott actually had the nerve to look shocked. The smile drained from his face like dirty water down a bathtub.

“You don’t. I. I have nothing to say to you, so get the fuck out of here!” Stiles’ fingers curled into fists.

“But. No... wait. Man, you have to let me... I can explain that...”

Stiles whipped his hands up; the not-so-small, mean part of him thrilled when Scott actually flinched back. He gave Scott’s shoulders a hard push and watched with a nasty smirk when Scott staggered back through the window, shock screwing with his reflexes so that he fell back onto his ass on his dad’s roof.

“No! Fuck that, man. I told Derek I didn’t want to see any of you. No one! Go away, Scott.” He started to slam the window shut but stopped halfway through, ignoring the way Scott looked like Stiles had just punched him. Fuck him. He was the one that pissed on over ten years of friendship. Not Stiles. “How about this. We can make a... bet... if you want. I bet that if I see your lying, stupid face near me or mine again, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later. I’m sure I’ll get pretty good odds, though.” He slammed the window shut so hard the glass shook in its frame, then turned and stomped out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

When he clattered down the stairs, he had to grin, even though he was still so pissed that his hands shook.  His dad had moved the couch, and the coffee table back to the far wall.  God knew where he found it, but he’d spread the giant plastic road city that Stiles had played with when he was a kid out, weighing it down with a stack of magazines on each corner. All of Stiles’ old matchbox cars were lined up on the little roads.  There appeared to be one hell of a traffic jam. Zoe and his dad were driving the cars up and down the magazine mountain, heads almost touching as they made little zooming and crashing sounds.  

“Hey, guys.”

“Daddy!” Zoe jumped up and tackled his shins with her skinny little arms. She was absolutely filthy.  Her hair had sand in it. There was glitter on her left eyelid and the remains of something bright blue around her mouth.

“Hey, baby girl. What have you been doing with grandpa?” He didn’t miss his dad’s pleased chuff at the sound, and while it didn’t exactly make him feel very proud of himself, Stiles was slowly starting to believe that his dad wasn’t going to be hateful about what Stiles had done. The choices he had made.  Actually, that kind of made a living with what he did worse in a way.

“We went to the park and played on the slide and played in the sand, and I had two ice creams!”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Two? Wow. Lucky girl. You look like you could use a bath, though.” He looked over at his dad. “And you look like you need a nap.”

His dad laughed. Even the little crinkles in his eyes looked relaxed. “She’s amazing, Stiles.”  They both looked down at her. Zoe, never one to not love an audience, began to do a little dance. “But, no rest for the wicked. I have to go get a few groceries, check-in with Derek, that sort of thing.”

Stiles didn’t know why he said it, especially with the nervous rage from literally pushing Scott out of his life still running under his skin, but it was out of his mouth. Then he couldn’t take it back. “I could go to the store for you if you want.”

His dad’s gaze cut to his face.  “You’re sure? I was..er. Under the impression that you didn’t really want to see anyone.”

“I don’t. But I can handle it.” He thought. Probably. “I have a few things to get for munchkin butt, too.”

Zoe giggled. “Daddy said ‘butt.’” She covered her mouth with her hands, brown eyes wide with laughter. She gigglesnorted. “Butt.” She whispered it, and Stiles had one of those moments where he couldn’t laugh out loud- which would encourage her, nor could he scold her for repeating what he said.

“Yes, thank you, Zoe. How about you get your.... tush... up to the bathroom. Grandpa will show you where.”

“‘Kay!” She hugged his shins again. Stiles was pretty sure she whispered “butt” under her breath again and had to bite the inside of his cheek, willing to let that one go under the heading of ‘selective parenting.’

“Here, I’ll make you a list.” His dad got up from the living room floor to walk over to the small desk in the corner of the room. “Not too much, really. I just forgot the stuff for the salad.”

“Yeah. No problem, dad.” Stiles licked his lips, a nervous habit that always made him feel kind of like an idiot, but he couldn’t seem to stop doing it either. Stiles waved goodbye, grabbed the keys and the list, and went to the rental car.  He didn’t know why he had expected Beacon Hills to change so much. Just because he’d grown up...

But no. It was the exact same town. Stiles pulled into the grocery store parking lot and did his shopping without really talking to anyone. It just seemed safer not to acknowledge he was here. Stiles thought he saw Chris Argent on his way out of the store, but one of the plastic bags was falling off of his pinkie, and he didn’t care enough to see. So what? He was probably going to see a lot of people that he used to know. Obviously, it didn’t mean anything. He and Zoe would be out of here soon, safe back at home.

Stiles had to set down the milk so that he could unlock the SUV’s door, then do kind of an awkward juggle so that he didn’t drop anything. He was in the process of leaning over to get everything in the car when he heard the footstep behind him.

Stiles didn’t even have time to brace himself before the other man was on top of him, pressing him down onto the backseat. Stiles cried out when his knees barked painfully against the sharp metal.  Hands pressed his wrists into the soft seat, and Stiles jerked away, trying to twist his body out from under the weight pinning him down. He heard the grocery bags slide to the floor.

“Make sure you check your email tonight.  A friend wants to say hello.”

Stiles’ face was pressed into the cloth seats, but he tried screaming anyway, throwing his smaller body around, frantically trying to get the leverage to kick at the man behind him.  He had time for one desperate Thank God thank God thank God Zoe is at home before he felt the press of teeth against the top of his spine.

Stiles did whine then, his flesh crawling as he tried in vain to twist away.

“Don’t forget,” came the whispered voice. “Or something’ll happen to that cute kid of--”

Stiles moaned in terror, causing him to freeze in place like a scared rabbit.

Between one breath and the next, the heavy, sickening weight behind him was gone.  Stiles could only tremble there for a second; reaction set in.  He felt bile in the back of his throat and gagged, rearing back and struggling to get up on shaky knees and arms that absolutely wouldn’t cooperate.  

When Stiles heard the footstep behind him again, he growled, low in his throat, turning and launching himself towards his attacker, grabbing the first weapon that came to hand.

“Whoa! Jesus, fuck. Stiles!”  Derek grabbed his wrist with one hand, stopping Stiles from braining him with the gallon of milk, the other arm sliding around Stiles’ back, trying to keep them both from overbalancing.  “What the hell?”  Stiles blinked, jerking back on instinct. Derek let him go immediately, completely confused.

“Someone... someone...”  Stiles couldn’t talk. It made no sense. No sense that someone had just attacked him. Dimly he felt Derek take the gallon of milk out of his hand. His legs still felt shaky, and he braced himself against the open SUV door, trying not to lose it.

Derek’s voice changed from confused to that special brand of intense fury that only he could pull off. “What. happened.” Their heads were so close together that Stiles could feel the puff of each word against his lips. They were close enough to kiss if Stiles just leaned up...

Stiles felt his empty stomach cramp, and he turned, pushing feebly at Derek’s chest before he staggered, nerves and terror trumping the tenuous control he had on his stomach.  He tried to get sick quietly, but he couldn’t help himself as the spasms overtook him, causing his frame to shake helplessly.

It was Derek that helped him. He got Stiles a handkerchief (and had it been any other moment in his life, Stiles would have totally laughed at the way Derek produced it, like a magician with flowers), but he was too busy wiping his mouth to do much of anything. Ugh. He hated to throw up.  He felt Derek’s fingers brush against the bite mark and jerked away, scrubbing at it with his other hand like he could rub it off.  “He said. He said to check my email. And he. He knows about Zoe.” Stiles blinked up at Derek, helpless with horror.

Either the idea of Stiles being attacked was about to make Derek lose his shit (slightly possible), or Derek had gotten really bad at hiding the few emotions that he had  (much more possible) because Stiles felt himself herded into the SUV almost before he could process what was happening.  “So you probably don’t get paid if I actually get hurt, right?”

“Shut up.” Derek peeled out of the parking lot, heading directly to Stiles’ dad’s house.

“I’m trying not to freak out here, so I’ll ignore them completely lack of manners you--” Stiles flailed his hand at Derek. “But I thought that was the point. I thought I was supposed to be safe here? Just gonna throw that out there. Seriously. Does my dad pay you by, like, the hour? Or the death threat? Because it’s getting really fucking --- old.” Stiles felt his throat tighten up, and he bit his lip, trying to make himself shut up.  It was just better if they didn’t talk.  Jesus. You would think I’d learned this lesson by now.

Derek didn’t respond, but Stiles could see the way the muscle in his cheek twitched. Stiles stared out the window for the short drive, absently rubbing the back of his neck where the nameless asshole had bit him.

Had bit him!

They pulled into the driveway, and Derek practically yanked Stiles out of the car, helping him inside with one hand closed tightly around Stiles’ bicep. “Hey--ow---Derek!”

His dad poked his head out of the kitchen, wearing the bright red ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron that usually made Stiles want to claw off his face, but his sharp gaze zeroed in on Derek’s hand and the way Stiles was practically arching away from him.  “Did you forget the mushrooms?”  Stiles saw Zoe seated at the counter, carefully stirring something in an empty bowl.

“No. They’re in the car.” Stiles jerked his arm out of Derek’s grip and ran up the stairs. He heard his dad’s voice as he stumbled into the bathroom, heard Derek’s low reply, and had to take a second to stare at himself in the mirror, trying not to shake.  His face looked like wax. The mild case of road rash he’d gotten when the car had swerved towards him was bruised, scraped just slightly on the top of his cheekbone. The skin had scabbed over. While he didn’t have a full-blooded Omega's healing ability, he did have enough that it didn’t hurt anymore.  It just looked like hell. Much like his ankle. That hadn’t even twitched after he’d spent the time after calling his dad curled around Zoe. Now though, Stiles could see the dark skin under his eyes. His hair, which was longer than the length he’d kept it during most of his time in high school, was lank and greasy looking. His mouth tasted foul.

Stiles took a deep breath and walked back to his room. Of course, his dad had put his and Zoe’s suitcases there, and Stiles rooted around until he came up with a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. He wanted comfort, and it looked like a hot shower and comfy clothes were going to have to do it.

Stiles thought he heard raised voices, but he was willing enough to ignore it as he walked back to the bathroom with his clothes, helping himself to his dad’s shampoo and soap.

He’d taken thousands of showers here. Hundreds of thousands. More, even. This made him feel like he was home, even more than sleeping in his bed or his dad making his favorite meal. Stiles stripped off and stepped inside, grinning a little stupidly at the tile. It felt good against his sweaty forehead. He turned on the faucet and danced out of the way with a startled yip of sound as the water came out too cold, and everything was just so familiar.

It felt amazing to clean his teeth. It always drove his dad insane that he would leave the toothpaste in the shower after he brushed his teeth, so he made a special point of doing it.  Stiles had the uncomfortable feeling that he couldn’t just hide here in the shower all night. He knew he owed his dad a metric fuckton of explanations. It terrified him. He really was a coward.  Stiles grabbed the shampoo and started washing his hair, tilting his head back into the spray. How was he supposed to justify actions that he had known were stupid at the time? How did he apologize to his dad for not only keeping his only kid away from him for two years but his only grandkid? He hadn’t missed the slightly manic way his dad was cramming in all the time he could with Zoe like he was just waiting for Stiles to leave again.

He took a deep breath and shut off the water, dripping dry for a few minutes before grabbing a towel and getting dressed.  When he finally clattered down the stairs, he could smell the lasagna in the oven.

“What time does Zoe normally go to sleep?”

Stiles checked his phone. “Well, it’s been kind of screwed up. Our sleep schedules, I mean. Normally around seven.”

“Oh. I went ahead and put her down. She was pretty tired.”

Stiles leaned over the salad bowl and stole a tomato.  The juice was sweet in his mouth as he smooshed it with his lips. As a stalling tactic, it pretty much sucked, though. His dad smacked absently at his hand, and Stiles couldn’t keep the smile from his face. Again, something he’d had done a million times before.

“Sorry. I like tomatoes.”

“That’s why I bought the extra.”

There was a beat of silence, then a deep breath. Stiles had been expecting it. He went to the fridge and snagged a soda, then made himself comfortable.

“Okay, so… I don’t know where to start.” Stiles popped the tab then brought it to his mouth to suck down the bubbles before they spilled. “If I start, I don’t know if I can stop, really.”

“Don’t make me hold the lasagna hostage.”

Stiles grinned faintly. “Okay, then. Ask.”

“I… gather that you’re in some kind of trouble from your… job.” His dad didn’t physically put the quotations there, but they were pretty obvious.

“My job? Oh. Er.. no. I don’t think so.” He held up a hand and fumbled for his phone. “Okay, I know that sending you money orders was kind of … awkward. But I wanted to do something for you. And I didn’t need the money.” Stiles winced. “I haven’t done anything illegal for it, dad. Have you ever heard of Hunter Pack?”

His dad opened his mouth. Looked blank. “The app-game-thing? The one that’s like a cross between Angry Birds and Tetris?”

Stiles’ grin turned a little bashful. “I invented it.”

“You invented it.” His dad blinked. His lips twitched until he couldn’t keep the grin back. It made the corner of his eyes crinkle. “You invented a game where you’re supposed to kill off witches? Ghosts? Demons? Werewolves?”

Stiles ducked his head. He took another gulp of his Sprite. “It was… therapeutic. I needed money, and a friend of mine from school helped me get the rights, the advertising, and all that. So.. er. I’m not selling drugs or prostituting myself or anything that you were probably thinking to be able to send you cash every few months.”

His dad shook his head. “Oh, wait a damn minute. Let’s not gloss over that part. Back up. A friend from high school helped you market this game?”

Stiles licked his lips. “Yeah. When I left... I was… uh. Well, shit, this is going to be embarrassing.” He scrubbed his hand over his face again and blew out a breath. “So. To back up a little further, when I left here, it was kind of… bad. Some people that I thought were my friends I knew played kind of a… nasty trick on me.  Added to that, well. I didn’t know that I was in heat? I know, you think I would know something like that. But it was my first one and-“ Jesus, his face was as red as the tomato by now. “And I did something kind of stupid.”

Stiles jerked his gaze up at the absolute rage in his dad’s eyes. “What kind of a nasty trick, Stiles?” Hoo boy. He hadn’t heard that tone in his dad’s voice in awhi- Oh.

“No! Nonono. Not what you’re thinking. Consensual! Completely consensual. Just … stupid.”

His dad’s jaw worked as he stared down at Stiles, his knuckles white from where they rested against the countertop. “Continue,” he bit out, still mad.

“Well- so I started college with Zoe. Jesus, I thought I was dying or something. I was too new to know anyone, so it wasn’t like someone could just be all ‘oh, you’re knocked up! That explains a lot, really.’ So until Thanksgiving- well. I didn’t really do very well. I was... a little upset from what Sc… from what happened here, and it was just easier to avoid people.”

The timer went off, startling both of them.  His dad held up one finger then turned to get the lasagna out of the oven. They were both quiet as he pulled up a bar stool. Stiles had already eaten most of the tomatoes out of the salad, so he started on the lasagna. Jesus, he felt like he could eat the whole thing. He was starving.

When Stiles looked up after stuffing his face, his dad was just staring at him, fondly shaking his head. Stiles blushed, swallowed, and took another drink. “Uh. So. That worked for a while. Until, well. One of my friends from school found me. And she brought reinforcements.”

And hadn’t that been a surprise.  

He’d been so sick that he hadn’t even realized that they were in his room until he heard a gasp of shock.  Stiles had blinked away from the light like a vampire did with the sun but hadn’t missed the twin looks of shock on Lydia and Danny’s faces. Jackson had been lounging by the door with his arms crossed over his chest, his entire posture that of someone who would rather be getting a root canal.

“Jesus Christ, Stilinski.” Danny’s voice had sounded like Stiles had personally done something to hurt him.

Lydia had quickly transformed her face back to the calm mask she usually wore- the Queen of Everything.”Yes, well. You look pathetic. Get up. You can wallow in misery just as easily somewhere else.”

“Go away!” He did sound pathetic. His voice had just been a low croak; his entire body cringing away from them.

“No. I’m afraid I can’t do that. Now you can come with us nicely, or Jackson over there will take matters into his own hands.” Lydia’s voice had lowered to a stage whisper. “I don’t think he likes you very much. He might drop you on your stubborn ass a few times, but I assure you that you will be leaving this….” Lydia had waved her hands around.

“Why are you even here?”

Lydia had blinked. Her blank look wavered as she looked over Stiles’ hunched form. “Well, none of us were included either, were we? Good enough to help out, but not quite good enough to be…” She trailed off, shaking her head. Jackson huffed and walked up to the bed when she snapped her fingers at him impatiently.

Stiles felt too miserable to say much at the way Danny was shoving his dirty clothes into a bag. Stiles didn’t have all that much stuff, but Danny found it all, his lips compressed into a thin line. Jackson did have to help him up. It hadn’t gone well. Even his legs felt like cooked spaghetti.

“Fuck. How much weight have you lost, dude?” Stiles caught a glimpse of the look he and Lydia shared and closed his eyes, ashamed. They looked so mad. He was used to them thinking he fucked up but didn’t want them mad at him. He was much, much too tired to deal with it.

Thirty minutes later, they were in a hotel. Stiles had had a mild panic attack at even the thought of going to Lydia’s apartment, afraid of seeing Allison because Allison meant Scott and Scott meant to pack, and they didn’t want him they hated him he couldn’t see them he---

Surprisingly, it was Jackson who had shushed him, helped him into the shower. Had glared down at him until he ate something. Stiles had fallen asleep, with the three of them having a furious sounding argument in whispers around him, but the bed was soft. The sheets were clean. Someone kept stroking his head, and Stiles realized that Lydia Martin had decided to let him use her as a body pillow for some odd reason.

That’s when he figured he was dreaming, but his stomach had decided to cooperate for once, keeping down the food Jackson had practically force-fed him.

 Stiles fell asleep and slept better than he had in four months.

Since before Derek had broken his heart.

“Stiles?”

Stiles jumped. “Oh. Shit! Sorry.” He scooped up a huge forkful of the casserole and shook his head. “Went off for a second. Where was I?”

“Reinforcements.”

“Oh! Right. Well, You might remember my… slight… fascination with Lydia Martin? Turns out she is really, epically amazing at organization. My other friend Danny helped with finding someone to help me change my name.”

His dad raised his eyebrow. “Oh?”

Stiles held out his hand with a slight grin. “John. John Bane. Nice to meet you.”

His dad’s bark of laughter made Stiles snort his own loud bark of a laugh. They both looked back guiltily where Zoe was still sacked out on the couch.

“Nice. I guess.. oh.. Bruce Gordon was taken? Joker Wayne?”

“Shut up. It worked, didn’t it? I mean, I didn’t even know what to do. Lydia didn’t know about Zoe. They just knew I was… kind of.” Stiles stopped. Sighed. Took a deliberate drink of his Sprite. He didn’t want to freak out his dad anymore.

“Stiles.” His dad reached over. “What did they do? I’m not stupid.” His voice was impossibly gentle. “There had to be a reason that Scott wasn’t able to look me in the eyes anymore. Or why he and his girlfriend broke up… coincidentally right when you left. I don’t know Chris Argent well, but he was buying drinks for half of Beacon Hills that night. He really didn’t like them being together.”

Stiles'  stomach clenched. He stared down at his fork, watching it blur.

“It’s not conditional. You know that, right? If you don’t tell me… well, there’s no repercussions. I would just really like to know.” His dad took a deep breath. “I’d like to know why you left me, Stiles. I know that things were… strained. And I’m not mad that you left. Really.” He touched the back of Stiles’ hand. “Really.” Maybe a little disappointed that you couldn’t trust me, but…” 

The fork blurred so badly that it didn’t look like a fork anymore. He saw parts of it; the flash of the kitchen light on the handle, the piece of oregano that was stuck to one of the tines, but they were indistinct. “They made a bet. Scott and Derek. That they could… get me to. Fuh-. To have sex with Derek. And some other stuff. The pack was even in on it to make sure I was. Uh.” He stopped, his voice giving out on him. “It was… I just had to get out of here.”  Stiles blinked. He was too ashamed to look up at his dad.

His dad was quiet for several minutes. Stiles sniffed and took a shaky drink of his soda. “I uh. I called you. Once.” He couldn’t seem to stop talking in these horribly stilted sentences. “When I found out. That. Found out about Zoe.”

“What?”

“Uh. I wanted to see if you could help me with some info. You know about Mom and being an Omega. You were… uh. You didn’t want to talk to me.” He darted a quick glance up. His dad was standing there with his own eyes wide and wet, his hand over his mouth.

“Jesus fucking Christ… Stiles! I was completely shitfaced. I thought that I had dreamed you calling!” Stiles flinched when his dad jumped up, slamming his fork down. He just stood there with his hands braced against the counter, breathing heavily.

“Dad... I’m. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Stiles whispered.

Between one blink and the next, his dad had his arms wrapped around Stiles, clutching tightly. “C’mere. Oh, no, no. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

Stiles leaned into his dad’s strength for a few more minutes, then pulled away, wiping at his eyes, feeling like a complete idiot for crying so much. Ever since this had happened, he’d been busting out the waterworks every time he turned around. Of course, in all fairness, it had been rather emotional.

“Here. Why don’t you go on upstairs? I’ll reheat your food and bring it up in a few minutes. You can get Zoe settled and then just… relax. How does that sound?”

It sounded amazing. Jesus, he really was exhausted.  Stiles picked up Zoe and tightened his arms around her. Stiles made it to the stairs before his dad stopped him with one well-timed question. If Stiles hadn’t been so completely and utterly wrecked, he might not have answered.

“Son? Is Zoe… is she Derek’s?”

Stiles hugged Zoe to him, staring up at the shadows on the dark stairs. “She’s mine.” He turned to face his dad, who was standing there, face carefully blank. His cop face. Stiles nodded, then shrugged. “I told you- me staying away didn’t really have much to do with you.”

He turned to go back upstairs.

TBC

Chapter Text

Stiles wrinkled his nose, swimming up out of sleep. He blinked up at his ceiling, his brain still fuzzy. Stiles heard the sound again and turned to his daughter. In the low light from the hallway, he could see that Zoe’s little face was scrunched up. The sound was coming from her.

She was growling.  Her feet were twitching as she slept. Stiles had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. That must have been what woke him up, her foot kicking out against his leg. Stiles stretched, wincing at the pins and needles in his arm. He’d fallen asleep wrapped around Zoe, and her weight had caused his arm to go numb. Stiles shook his fingers, sitting up and wiggling his fingers. He reached for his phone to check his texts.  Just Harper, wondering if he’d arrived safely. “Crap,” he muttered. He’d have to call her later.

Stiles’ eyes widened when he saw the email notification on his phone. He almost dropped it when his fingers tightened.  How the fuck had he forgotten? The talk with his dad had put his attacker’s words right out of his mind. “Shit!” He quickly clicked over and saw an email from Stiles Stilinski. Well, he certainly hadn’t emailed himself. His throat went dry. There was nothing there- just a rather large video file. No message. Nothing.

Stiles took a deep breath and clicked for it to load.

He didn’t remember throwing his phone.

Stiles’ scream was so loud that it woke Zoe up out of a sound sleep. It wasn’t until he had grabbed his daughter and flipped off the bed, trying to get his back against the wall --hide hide he had to hide-- that he was able to stop his own screaming, and that was only because Zoe was staring at him crying, terrified because of Stiles’ own terror. Her huge brown eyes were swimming with tears as she tried to burrow into his body, wrapping her skinny legs and arms around Stiles’ torso, pushing her face into his chest.

“Daddddeeeeeeeee!”

“Stiles!”  Derek was just there, crouching in front of Stiles and Zoe, whirling to meet an unseen attacker, wolfed out and snarling. Derek turned again and dropped to his knees, checking Stiles and Zoe for wounds, his clawed hands impossibly gentle as he frantically searched to see what was wrong.

Stiles heard a repeated “no, no, no, no, no, no” echoing in his bedroom. He didn’t realize he was saying it over and over. The words were burning in his throat as he stared blankly over Derek’s shoulder at his phone. His dad slammed open the door to Stiles’ room, sounding like a gunshot. Derek whipped back around, almost blurring as he turned towards the door, towards the imagined threat, blocking Stiles and Zoe with his own form.

As though this was happening to someone else, Stiles saw his dad as he stood there with a gun, pointing it at Derek.  “Get the hell away from my son, Derek.”  His voice was cold. His dad didn’t sound like a man who’d been working with him for over two years.  His dad moved the barrel away immediately when Derek shifted back to fully human, showing Stiles and Zoe curled up together behind him. Zoe’s hysterical crying sounded like a siren in the small space.  “I mean it. Move. Away.”

Stiles couldn’t stop staring dully at his dad. He hardly moved when Derek made a frustrated growl, turning back towards him and shaking him slightly, his hands gentle around Stiles’ biceps. “Stiles. Come on. Take a breath. Tell me what’s wrong. Stiles!”

His dad put the safety back on the gun and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans. He was still wearing the Kiss the Cook apron. “Stiles. Stiles, what? What’s happened?”

Stiles blinked, seeing black starbursts in the edge of his vision. Everything sounded hazy, far-off like he was listening to the words from underwater.  Zoe was patting at his face, whimpering now, her breath hot on his chin. It was that more than anything that made him suck in a very uneasy breath, focusing on Zoe for the first time since he’d panicked. He kissed her forehead, kept kissing the top of her head. His arms turned less clutching and more soothing, trying to calm her down.  He couldn’t speak yet. It was hard to try to focus on Zoe when the blessed blankness taunted him, just out of his reach. It would be so easy for Stiles to pass out, for him to just say ‘fuck it’ and let Derek and his dad deal with everything.  Stiles heard himself whispering “Shhh. Shhhh, baby,” over and over to Zoe in between kisses, and slowly she began to calm down.

Stiles flicked his gaze up once to see both Derek and his dad staring at them with the same impatient worry on their faces.  Any other time it would make him laugh. Derek was still the best liar he knew. So good, too good at keeping what he was really feeling inside. No way was he really that concerned over Stiles. His paycheck, maybe. But not Stiles.

“My phone. He sent me…” his voice cracked, and Stiles buried his head in Zoe’s curls, shaking, fighting the oncoming panic attack. He already felt nauseous, dizzy, as though he wasn’t sitting solidly on the floor with his back to the solid wall.  “There’s a video of.” Stiles gasped for air, biting his lip until it bled. The pain helped him focus. His dad lurched forward, taking Zoe out of his arms, shifting her to one hip in a move that Stiles had done a million times, but one that his dad hadn’t in over twenty years. He bent to pull Stiles to him, hugging him tightly with one arm.  “Of me. And of Zoe. He was in my h—h-house.” Stiles’ voice cracked again, and he buried his face in his. Dad’s solid shoulder, gasping for breath from lungs that felt too tight. Derek moved a little further away, grabbing up Stiles’ phone. The video had paused when he threw it. Dumbly, he could see the front was cracked.

Stiles heard Derek’s muffled curse and winced, knowing what he must be looking at. Stiles could still see it in his head, but he pulled away from his dad’s comforting hug a little to watch Derek watch the video that had scared Stiles so badly.


He was looking at someone’s naked chest. Derek’s eyebrows crinkled as he stared, watching the camera pan down. Stiles’ mouth had fallen open when he’d seen that it was him, naked except for the sheet, twisted around his body as he dreamed. Stiles would recognize his bed anywhere.  Hell, he’d recognize the moles and freckles anywhere.  But Derek? Derek hadn’t seen that particular view before.  Derek’s face changed when the Stiles sleeping in the video turned, murmuring.  Stiles had been a little embarrassed at how far the sheet had slipped, showing the dip of his spine, the top curve of his butt.  The camera panned back up his body, to his face, wet with tears. Whatever Stiles was dreaming about- it was making him cry.  The camera panned back, stretching a wide-angle to show that Stiles was curled up in the center of his bed, alone.

Stiles was too embarrassed to look at Derek’s reaction. Knowing he’d seen him naked and vulnerable?…that was bad. That was terrible. But the next part of the video was even worse.

The close-up camera angle panned over Zoe’s sleeping form.  It was immediately obvious that this was not the same camera fixed the room as it had been in Stiles’ bedroom. Someone was holding it.  Zoe was sleeping with her butt poking straight up again, the white diaper a muted glow in the pale light from her light mobile. When Zoe slept, she took as much space as she could, sprawling out like a cat. Slowly… so slowly that it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, a black-gloved hand slid into the frame. One finger gently brushed one of her curls off her face.

That was when Stiles had started to scream. But the last part had utterly terrified him.

Stiles jerked his gaze up to Derek’s when he heard the unmistakable crack of his phone’s fragile case, but the werewolf’s face was still utterly blank. Stiles couldn’t see his eyes from that angle, but he knew what Derek was seeing. It was burned in his own brain forever.

The camera person turned deliberately towards the small mirror in Zoe’s room. It was obvious that a man stood there, even though he was wearing dark clothing. The broad shoulders and way he carried himself had made Stiles’ skin crawl. There was a ski mask over his face, obliterating the specificity of features.  Even the camera was held deliberately so that it blocked a clear view of his face.

It was even more unsettling to see the glowing, unmistakable red eyes of an Alpha glinting back at them in Zoe’s mirror.

“He was at my house. He touched my baby girl. How do I even…?” Stiles leaned forward to stroke her hair. Zoe was looking around at the three men in the room, her eyes wide and glassy-eyed. Her thumb was firmly planted in her mouth as she sagged against her grandfather’s chest, obviously exhausted. Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose. Both his dad and Derek were looking at him with almost equal expressions of concern on their face. “How do I make this go away? I thought it was some random person, but…” he trailed off and stood up, watching dully as Zoe stared at him from eyes that were still a little wet. Guilt was swimming in his chest. He should never have let her see him react that way. He’d freaked out… like some stupid… some… dumbass and scared her to death. What kind of father did that?

“There’s more on this clip. You didn’t watch after Zoe, did you?”

Stiles shook his head no. Derek’s voice was so tight that Stiles wondered if it hurt to talk. He’d never been psychic, but he could just tell that whatever else was on that file was going to kill him.  Stiles took a deep breath, jutting out his chin. “I’m not weak.” Stiles ignored the way he’d been so terrified when Derek had just appeared in his room. He ignored the way he was still shaking and walked over to the other side of his bed, where Derek was standing. “Let me see Derek.”

“Stiles.”  His dad was speaking in that cautious way he had. It pissed Stiles off. “Why don’t you come to get Zoe.”

Stiles was shaking his head before his dad finished talking. No. She shouldn’t be around him right now. “I don’t want to scare her any more than I have already.”

Derek tugged at his arm. Stiles almost tripped, jerking out of his grip, but he did sit down in the chair that Derek indicated. “Sit. Calm down. Hold your cub, Stiles. You both need each other too....” Stiles stared up at Derek, knowing his mouth was open. Before he could react, Derek had walked the few steps over to where Stiles’ dad was struggling to get to his feet and took Zoe into his arms. She was so tired that she barely twitched, curling up in Stiles’ lap when Derek gently placed her there.

“We need to see the rest of it. Sorry, son, but I need to know what’s going on. Then we’re going to have a little discussion with…” Stiles jerked his panicked gaze to his dad’s calm blue one. He watched as his dad’s face twisted. They had a whole conversation with only their eyes.
He doesn’t know?
No- are you crazy?!
Godamnit, Stiles.
Please, Dad!

Before Stiles watched his dad sigh, shaking his head. “…with each other. I need to know everything that’s been going on. Every time you thought you’ve been in danger. We can’t figure out who this asshole is if we don’t know everything.” He leaned over Stiles and opened his laptop. Stiles shifted with his arm around Zoe (damn Derek. He was right. Just holding her made him slowly relax, the terrifying panic slowly leaching away.) and logged in.

Derek gave him a funny look at his wallpaper background before coming to stand behind his other shoulder, close enough that if Stiles just turned his head, they would be kissing.  Stiles sat rigidly, afraid to so much as twitch.

“What? I like that game.”

“Huhn.” Derek grunted. “Stupid thing. I can’t get past level 34.”

Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek extremely hard so that he wouldn’t start laughing outright.

When he called up his email account and heard his dad’s shocked breath at the beginning of the video, though, the smile drained away from his mouth. He felt himself flushing as they watched. Stiles flinched at his dad’s hand on his shoulder when the Alpha’s eyes burned red again and heard both Derek and his dad’s breath stutter to a shocking stop in their chests when the rest of the video played.

Zoe and Stiles’ dad in the park.  It was beyond jarring to see her dressed as she had been a few hours ago, offering her grandpa her drippy, sticky blue popsicle.  Stiles heard his dad’s grunt as they watched the camera follow Zoe as she ran towards the sandbox, falling back with a small poof of sand. The sound on the camera caught his dad’s laugh as he wiped the melted popsicle on his jeans and went over to help Zoe build a sandcastle.

The video juggled, then the scene changed.

They were asleep in Stiles’ room. The camera panned over to the stupid snowboarder that his dad still hadn’t taken down, then down onto Stiles’ tiny bed.  It was dark, so the bright red light was easy to see. Stiles was confused for a second until he realized just what the tiny pinpoint of light was.


The bright red laser light from the scope of a gun trailed lazily up from Zoe’s forehead to Stiles’ nose, then teasingly on each of his eyes before trailing down over Stiles’ heart.


He could hear Derek’s low growl as the words slowly scrolled across the screen. “I WILL KEEP WHAT IS MINE.”


“Awesome. That doesn’t even.” Stiles frowned at the words. “This is ridiculous. What, did this guy go to stalkers-r-us? It’s like… a badly performed play. ‘I WILL KEEP WHAT IS MINE BUUUWAA HA HA HA.’ All he needs is a mustache to twirl.” He pushed back from the desk and started pacing the small room. Stiles hadn’t ever thought it was small before, but it was getting a little crowded with three people in it. Derek didn’t move from the window, keeping his back blocking it, his arms crossed over his chest.

“He came in through my window, right? Or that laser thingy did. That’s why you’re standing there.” Stiles completely ignored the way his dad’s face shifted through about five different expressions as he stared at Derek. Protective Dad seemed to lose to a Grudging Respect For The Asshole That Knocked Up My Kid. It was kind of impressive, actually.

Stiles grabbed his hair and stood still, trying to think.  It was hard to focus on. That reminded him of his ADHD he’d had when he’d been a teenager. Stiles’ unexpected heat had kicked most of the hyperactivity out of him. Still, occasionally his thoughts went back to pinging around in his head, making it impossible for him to focus. That made Stiles remember that he hadn’t taken his cycle suppressant. Holy fucking shit. No wonder he’d been such an emotional ass.  Fortunately, Stiles wasn’t too worried about skipping one day. He’d been on it long enough that he could go for at least a few days without wanting to climb the walls. After what had happened with Derek, Stiles had made damn sure he wouldn’t find himself in heat again. He had no interest in repeating that experience, thanks.


Stiles forced himself to take a breath. And another. He felt ... claustrophobic. He just wanted to go somewhere with Zoe and ... not be here. Near his dad, who meant well, or near Derek who.  Was doing this for whatever reason.  He could make an excuse, and get out of here, go take his pill, calm the fuck down before he started rocking in another corner. Jesus. No wonder.


“Look. I don’t feel comfortable here. Like seriously, I’m completely skeeved out at the idea of him being able to look in on me at any time. And who is this guy? I mean, I don’t even know any other Alphas!”  Stiles just happened to have turned when he said that, or he would have missed the look on Derek’s face.  Derek looked absolutely wrecked for just a moment. It hit Stiles like a punch to the gut. He didn’t think that he had ever seen that much expression on Derek’s face in his life. Derek whirled, staring out of the window with his fists clenched, growling low in his throat.


This was so, so not his problem. Stiles knew that as a human being, he should probably give a shit about whatever had upset Derek, but the truth was... he just didn’t. He didn’t care.


“Dad? I’m going to move to the study. You still have that turndown bed there, right?”  His dad used to sleep on it most nights when he was too tired to make it to his room after staying up too late working on a case. “There aren’t any windows there.”  Stiles turned and snagged his suitcase. He’d come back for his laptop later. He just needed to get the fuck out of here.


His dad nodded, the frustration bleeding to understanding. He walked over and hugged Stiles and Zoe again, sighing.  “That’s probably a good thing, kiddo.” He kissed Stiles’ temple, and Stiles had to swallow hard, fighting back the stupid tears.  His dad turned back to Derek with the narrow-eyed look Stiles remembered from when his dad was on a rag about getting to the bottom of something. If Derek wasn’t such a complete dick, Stiles might have felt sorry for him.


Stiles walked quickly, putting Zoe on the couch, telling himself that he didn’t care. He didn’t care why Derek was so upset. Stiles could hear the two of them arguing as clearly as if he was still standing right beside them.  He bent into his suitcase and got the small pill case with a relieved sigh. Stiles dry-swallowed the small pill, grimacing a little at the sour taste. Ugh. One day they’d make these things taste less like crap.


“Dammit, Mark. I am NOT going to stop until I know who wants hi--" Derek stopped short, his shout echoing in the room. Stiles winced. Don’t listen. Don’t listen. You don’t care. Don’t be stupid!


“Who? What have you thought of?” His dad sounded furious. As well he should be. Could Derek.. know this... this guy? Stiles snagged the blanket from behind the couch.  It was ancient, nubby, and worn through in spots, but his mother had made it, so they kept it. He covered both he and Zoe up, Stiles on his back on the couch and Zoe on his chest, and stared up at the ceiling.


He stayed awake for a long, long time, his thoughts chasing themselves around in his head. He heard Derek and his dad moving around the house and knew that they were double-checking the house, securing what they could. His dad checked on him once.


Stiles pretended to be asleep.

*****

The knock on his door woke him up. Stiles snapped his mouth shut with a growly snore, wiping the drool off his lip.  His dad had been waking him up with that same knock for over fifteen years, and for a second, Stiles thought he was late for school.   Zoe shifted on his chest with a sleepy mutter. She didn’t sound too pleased.

“Stiles? You have a visitor.”

He had a what? There was a freaky stalker ruining his life, and his dad was telling him he had a visitor? And just what the hell was up with that tone of voice? Stiles sat up with a slight flail of his arms.

“You guys take your time. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on. Derek and I are almost done, then I’ll rustle up breakfast.” His dad stood aside, and to Stiles’ utter and complete shock, Allison stood there.

Jesus Christ, she looked so different.  

The Allison Stiles remembered was super sweet; she had that kind of ridiculously stylish, indie look going on with the long, flowy hair and the scarves and the cute little outfits. God knew Scott had been smitten.

This Allison? She looked lethal.

Her hair was shorn almost to her skull in a pixie haircut that was both flattering and utterly, completely competent-looking. She was more muscular than he remembered. Her arms were shown off in the tank top she wore, the tight jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. Stiles could see a knife strapped to her leg and just knew that there had to be at least two other weapons on her.  

It was horrible. When she smiled, she looked like her aunt Kate.

“Allison?”

Allison stepped around Stiles’ dad, giving him a quick smile.  It didn’t reach her eyes. Stiles blinked, his mouth falling open. He tried to pinch himself, not entirely sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

“Stiles. Long time, no see.”  

Even her tone of voice was unfamiliar, cold.  It occurred to Stiles that this was the Allison without Scott. His dad said they had broken up. This was her without Scott’s influence.  It kind of made him sick. For the first time, he wondered what had made them break up for good. It was funny. He’d always thought that it was Allison who had kept Scott human. He never thought of them needing each other the other way around.

He had a quick jolt of memory- him running away from Allison in the quad, terrified and humiliated at seeing her with such an obviously guilty, piteous look on her face. Stiles’ dad shut the door, and Stiles sat up, gently moving Zoe to the cushion beside him, so there was no room on the couch.  He had no interest in this Allison coming anywhere near him.

“Yeah...?”  His voice was questioning. Hell, his whole body was questioning. Stiles didn’t know why the fuck she was here. “Are you mad about me sending Scott ass over teakettle?” He turned back to Allison. She was staring at Zoe with a look of absolute and total horror on her face.  Stiles’ eyes narrowed.

“You have a baby. You have a baby. Oh my god. Stiles.”  In a blink, she was the Allison he knew, her eyes wide and shocked, the coldness bleeding away. Stiles frowned.  Allison actually staggered, catching herself on the couch, staring down at Zoe, breathing a little heavily in the way people did when they were trying to catch their breath.

He reached out to catch her, but she turned, launching herself at him in a hug. Her arms were strong, tightening around him until he couldn’t breathe. Stiles was completely baffled as she sniffed, her thin frame shaking like a leaf in the wind.  

“Oh, god. Oh god, I can’t do this. You need to sit down. Just.. sit down. Jesus. Jesus, Stiles, you have a baby.”

“Allison...” he trailed off, completely confused. It was like she had done a complete one-eighty.

“No. No, I’m not doing this anymore. You need to know. You need to know so I can see if we can fix it.” She pushed Stiles down onto the couch, turning to pull a chair up beside him. She pushed a shaky breath out of her lungs, frowning. “Okay. I need...” Her gaze met his for almost the first time. “I need to tell you some stuff, and I need you to promise to sit and listen. Can you do that?”

Stiles blinked, the confusion slowly trickling into anger. “You sound like you need a lot of things.”

“Stiles. I know you have no reason to trust me. You have no reason to trust any of us, but please.. please, will you listen? Even if it’s... bad?”

Even if it’s bad.

Stiles frowned, nodding against his better judgment. She was right. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust any of them. But he wanted to... the idea that there could be an explanation for...  Stiles collapsed down on the couch, his legs shaky and weak.  

Zoe was oblivious, burrowing under the blanket and sleeping.  She could sleep through a hurricane if the situation called for it.  Stiles had read that in a baby book somewhere that had told him not to try to tiptoe around her while she slept as an infant, and for the most part, it had been good advice. He sighed. “Okay.”

“Okay. Okay.” Allison’s foot was jiggling, the heel of her boot making a nervous-sounding knocking sound against the floor.

“It was my idea.” Allison looked miserable as she blurted that out. Stiles twitched but kept his stare impassive, looking down at her knee. He didn’t think that he could do this if he had to look at her face. “It was my idea,” she whispered. “You almost died. You had no idea how .... how much... Scott went crazy. He wanted to rip the head off of that guy. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so... so pissed. Then the gunshots, and you wouldn’t get out of the way. I didn’t have a clear shot. Derek and Scott were too far away, do you remember? They’d just gotten there.  And then you were bleeding out.”

Stiles clenched his teeth. His muscles tensed as though preparing for him to get the fuck out of that room.  

“Scott was... he freaked out. But Derek went insane. He actually gutted Erica when she tried to pull him away from you. Just swatted at her like she was a fly.” She twisted her fingers together nervously. “It took them a while to get you to the hospital. It was... there was so much blood, and everyone was panicking. You had to go to emergency surgery, you know.”

“So... let me get this straight. You decided that you guys needed to... protect me? By what. Tearing out my.” Stiles made himself stop in mid-sentence.

“You wouldn’t stop! Stiles, you just ... threw yourself into everything. Getting shot wasn’t even the first time. You kept getting in the middle of the packing business- and don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying that I agree with it, okay? My family raised me to protect myself since before I was wearing a goddamn training bra... but you? You would just go off on these half-cocked ideas and...”  She stopped, sucking in a deep breath. “So yeah. We had to think of something that would push you away from us.”

“And you guys decided that having Derek fuck me was the way to go, huh? What. Did you just put it to a vote? Raise your hand if you agree.  Okay, pack business over- have some cheese-its and a soda, it’s time for movie night!”

“No. I didn’t know what Derek and Scott came up with. I just said that they needed to figure out something before you got killed.” Allison's voice was tight as she fought to keep her voice level.  

Stiles didn’t fucking care. “Oh, that makes it better.”

“Did you know that my family was contacted to kill you?”

Stiles gasped, completely shocked. He jerked his gaze up to Allison’s gaze, but she was staring at Zoe like she’d seen a ghost.  “What?!”

“Yeah. So shove your little hurt feelings back down because you need to listen to me, Stiles.”  it was like a switch. Back was the cold, controlled Allison.  Stiles was beginning to wonder which one was real.  

“So. You’re in the hospital. And my dad comes to me and asks me if I knew you were an Omega.” Her eyes fall on Zoe again and Stiles shifts, moving closer to his daughter.

“Bullshit. I didn’t even know I was an Omega.”

“Yeah. And that’s probably what saved your life.  Not from my family. But the Argents aren’t the only Hunters out there. My dad told me that there’s entire groups, families that stretch back generations whose only purpose is to exterminate Omegas.”

Stiles felt the blood drain from his face. “My... mom?”

“We think so. You’re lucky. You’re so fucking lucky that you didn’t present earlier.   To these people, Stiles, the idea of an Omega- made for breeding, made to bring more monsters into the world- is beyond terrifying to a certain sect of people. You think my family is nuts?” She scoffed. “They’re even called the Exterminators. My dad made sure that they stayed away from you and the Sheriff.  You were safe because of your humanity. And then... here you are, throwing yourself into all this supernatural shit, practically pissing everything away.  We’re trying to keep you under the radar, and you’ve got spotlights on you. When my dad asked me that, a lot more came out. That there had been a job posted--- and accepted.”

“A job.” Stiles’ heart was thudding in his chest so loudly that he was surprised that Allison couldn’t hear it.

“Yeah.” She laughed-the sound painfully unfunny. “You pissed somebody off, Stiles. There were multiple hits out on your dad. On Scott’s mom. But the catch was that... they’d only kill them if you stayed around. If you left, then everyone was safe.”

“What.”

She sat back in the chair. Stiles could barely see her. He remembered how weird everyone had acted right before Derek had...  but Stiles had thought it was because he’d been shot. Not because.... oh Jesus. “You didn’t tell Derek that I was an Omega.”

“We didn’t know for sure that you were. Stiles, if I had told him... he never would have. Uh.”

Never would have slept with him.

He wouldn’t have Zoe.

Stiles took a deep, shaky breath, trying to process it all. There were some gaping holes in her story. Not that Stiles didn’t believe her, because it made a perfect, twisted sort of sense. Allison was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. Shit, her dad practically took his devotion to the Code like he was married to it.

Allison blinked, her face softening. “When Scott told me you were back, he was convinced it meant that we could try again. That he could just wave a magic wand, and you’d be okay with... everything that happened.”

“Yeah, well.” But Stiles didn’t know how to finish that sentence. His mind was whirling. Did that mean that they were in more danger by being here? Last night, it had been pretty apparent that the freak who’d been in his house was an Alpha. Were the two things connected? Stiles Stilinski wasn’t all that interesting. It seemed impossible that there being a ... a... hit put out on his dad and Scott’s mom -- and Jesus, was that fucked up--- then him being stalked could be unrelated. Stiles huffed out a breath, rubbing at the headache that was brewing at his temple. This was.... hell. He didn’t know what this was.

“You know, Scott was kind of shit at being a werewolf. He got the protecting part down pat. But the rest of it? Wasn’t exactly his forte, you know? I mean... I disagree with what they did.” She leaned forward, brushing her hand against his tense arm. “But that stupid fake bet was all Derek’s idea. Scott was just trying to keep you safe. And your parents.” She made a face, like what she was about to say was going to be painful. “Far be it for me to try to excuse him, but Derek...  We’ve had our issues and all, but when you left, everything changed.  He’s really, really good at manipulating people, Stiles. I mean, we were all kids. But it was ... obvious. Even to me that they... regretted it.”

Stiles laughed.  Cuz really? That was fucking hilarious. They ‘regretted it?’ Well, boo fucking hoo for them.  Zoe twitched at the loud bark of his laughter, and Stiles was all at once really, uncomfortably aware that he was stuck in his house with someone who was fine with threatening his family--with threatening him-- out there.

Zoe yawned and blinked open sleepy eyes. Stiles pulled her into his lap, staring blindly down at the small burn hole on the carpet that had been the result of the one and only time he and Scott had tried to smoke.

“So, now what?”

Allison shrugged. “I don’t know. My dad wanted me to make contact with you and your dad. Let you know what had happened.”

“Derek knew about Scott’s mom? And my dad?”

“Of course he did. His parents were... they were really good Alphas. Good enough that Beacon Hills stayed off the radar until my Aunt decided to prove herself. But they died.”

Stiles raised his eyebrow, speaking volumes. Zoe was blinking owlishly at Allison, trying to decide if she was awake enough for conversation.

Allison jerked her gaze from Zoe’s face and back to Stiles’. “Okay. Were murdered. Did you know that Derek took the Alpha so that Scott wouldn’t have to?”

Stiles gave her a weird look. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Allison smiled thinly. “Nothing, Stiles. It’s just something to think about. Look, I have to go. You can call my dad at this number if you need him.” Stiles took the little card, looking down at the phone number. Argent had tried to be funny, drawing a little smiley face behind the last number. That guy was something else. Seriously.

The door to the study burst open, and Derek stood there, looking from Allison to Stiles with a carefully blank look on his face- but his eyes darted back and forth. Zoe, uncaring of the sudden tension in the room, slid off Stiles’ lap to investigate the contents of the room.

“What are you doing here?” Derek did not sound amused. Of course, Derek never sounded amused.

Allison’s smile was a little mean. “Oh? We’re just catching up. You know. I’m surprised you weren’t here before.”

Derek glowered. “Security system. Cameras.”

Allison opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Zoe piped up. “You growl a lot.”

Derek actually made a startled sound, staring down at Zoe in surprise.  Her tiny fists were on her hips again.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  Figures his kid would be the little drama queen.  But her effect on Derek was straight-up hilarious.

“Uh. Sorry?” If Derek had a tail, it would be between his legs.

“Daddy doesn’t like growls. He makes me have a time out. Are you going to have a time out?  I have to pee.”

Even Allison’s lips twitched at that. Stiles stood up and grabbed at his daughter’s hand. “Let’s go then. ‘Bye, Allison. Excuse us, Derek.”

Derek was still looking a little wild-eyed as they left.  Stiles heard them talking in furious whispers as he walked down the hallway. Actually, he was kind of glad that he wasn’t part of that conversation. Stiles wasn’t sure who was more badass at the moment.

Shit. There was so much to think about. Stiles needed... he needed to tell his dad what Allison had told him. And figure out who was after him.

And to figure out what the fuck he was going to do.


TBC!

Chapter Text

Chapter warning: author attempts at science-y reproductive stuff. Don’t laugh too hard. You’re reading a story about angsty pregnant werewolves. Please continue to suspend your disbelief, lol. :D

It was a stupid thing to do.  The thing was, Stiles knew it was stupid while he was doing it.  But did that stop him? No. No, it did not. One smart-ass comment from Derek and Stiles was stomping off like he was still a teenager.  Still, he would probably be hearing about this particular move from both his dad and his ... and Derek in the very near future. Repeatedly.

Assuming he got out of this, of course.

Still, he wasn’t completely helpless.  Stiles could feel that he was tied up. He could feel the hard plastic of a zip tie at his ankles and at his wrists.  The tie at his ankles allowed him to move just slightly. Stiles didn’t know if that was on purpose or not. The one at his wrists cut into the fragile skin there. His fingers were numb, and his elbow hurt from the way he was lying on it. Still, it could be worse.  

He could still be knocked out.

Or he could have taken Zoe with him to the mailbox.

Stiles cringed, biting back the pained sound with effort.  

Part of him just wanted this to be over. Whatever ‘ this ’ was.  A kidnapping?  Yeah. That sounded about right. Stiles didn’t think that he’d been out of it for all that long, but the windows were tinted just enough that he couldn’t tell if it was still evening or not. He didn’t want to move and give away that he was awake, even though his head was throbbing from the way it hung off the leather upholstery, like a dead fish. So, either Derek and his dad were looking for him, or he and the fucker who’d brained him were almost to wherever they were going.

It didn’t take much brainpower to realize that he was being taken to the mysterious Alpha.  He wondered at the curiously numb feeling he was experiencing. Shouldn’t he be scared? Shouldn’t he be terrified? But no, everything was just kind of fuzzy and numb. Calm.

“I know you’re awake, you know.”

Stiles froze.  He knew that voice!  He blinked, rapidly trying to shake the stupid out of his brain, desperately trying to remember what he’d seen when Derek’s car had pulled up to where Stiles was bending over to get the mail. Stiles was pretty sure he’d recognize the growl of that car anywhere.  He hadn’t even thought twice about turning and answering the friendly “Hey! Sorry to bother you but…” that he’d heard, thinking that it had to have been one of Derek’s pack.  Stiles had turned, bending to peek into the Camaro’s window, and the gun had come out of nowhere. He remembered that he’d had just enough time for a startled squeak before his t-shirt was jerked forward, throwing him off balance. The gun hitting his head had sent him swimming into blackness before he could think about screaming for help.

“Come on now, Stiles. I could smell when you woke up. You might as well sit up. We’ll be there in just a little bit.”

Cautiously, Stiles did as asked.  His stomach wasn’t entirely thrilled with him when he moved. Stiles tried to hold back from being sick, but it occurred to him that he didn’t particularly give a shit about this guy or this guy’s - Derek’s? - car, so he let it fly. It wasn’t his fault if a little splashed onto the back of the driver’s arm.

He did feel a little better after, except for the way his eyes wanted to vibrate out of their sockets.

“Oh, ma—an” The driver whined.  “That’s just fuckin’ sick .” He twisted in the driver’s seat, trying to wipe off his arm.

Stiles pushed as best he could with his shoulder to sit up the rest of the way.  “You’re the one who is completely gun happy.” Stiles shrugged.  He stared at the face of the young wolf that had usually been tasked with answering Ethel’s door, sluggish mind slowly working.

“So... Ethel…”

The wolf laughed. “ Ethel?! That old bitch? Are you crazy? You know, Harper always said you were something special. I don’t see it. You seem kind of stupid to me.”

Stiles managed not to roll his eyes, but only because he was afraid they’d fall out of his head if he did. He gently touched his shoulder to his temple, unsurprised when the white t-shirt came away bloody.  “You’ve been in Ethel’s pack for as long as I’ve known you. It’s not that big of a stretch.” He shifted over as far away from the driver as he could, sliding across the leather seat slowly.

“As long as you’ve known me, huh? Really Stiles? Do you think you know me? What’s my name then?”  The young wolf’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror, cold and glaring. “You don’t know my name… after two years. That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about. Oh, you? Sure... you’re okay because you saved Harper. But the rest of us Omegas are like the fucking wallpaper. Unless they want to breed. Then all of a sudden, we’re useful.”

Stiles lost his balance when the guy changed lanes.  “You’re pissed because you weren’t invited to the cool table at lunch? What does that have to do with me? I’m not in competition with you. I don’t even have a heat anymore.” He struggled to sit up again, bracing one shoulder against the car door. The glass of the window felt cool against his overheated face. Stiles forced himself to drag his gaze up to the rearview mirror.

The wolf smirked. “Yeah.  You have no idea how easy it was. He promised me that I’d have everything I wanted. All I had to do was set a few things in motion so you’d come back home. Plant some cameras. Switch out your--- shit !”  Stiles watched as he switched back to the other lane. “But I guess it’s easier to pull shit over on the Beacon Hills Alpha than Ethel since you’re not part of her pack. You’re not part of any pack. Are you?” The wolf’s lips twisted in another smirk.

Stiles stifled the small surge of hurt. He wasn’t Ethel’s pack. By choice. His choice.  The absolute last thing that he wanted was any kind of responsibility for having a pack. He’d tried that once, and it hadn’t exactly worked out, had it? He had Zoe. Zoe had him. That was all he needed. Stiles blinked, trying to focus on what the wolf had said. He had the feeling that he was missing something. Something important. It was kind of hard to focus on. His head was pounding now, his stomach rolling unpleasantly as the driver accelerated, swearing under his breath.

Stiles groaned as the driver turned the wheel again, jerking the car to the other lane. Belatedly it occurred to him that the driver was trying to get away from someone. Stiles’ head knocked lightly against the window then he lost his balance completely as he was thrown forward against the passenger seat. He tried to brace his feet against the floorboard but couldn’t move quickly enough.  Stiles caught a glimpse of the semi’s brake lights only a split second before the driver did. Instinct made him fold himself down onto the floorboard, trying to make himself as small of a target as possible. Stiles heard the wolf scream, felt gravity tilt when the car’s wheels left the ground.  He felt like he was on a tilt-a-whirl; watched as everything shifted. He couldn’t help the way he squeezed his eyes shut.

Stiles had the crazy thought that maybe he was dreaming- that this wasn’t really happening, but with a screech of metal and a hellacious crash, reality slammed back towards him like a punch to the face. Stiles hit his shoulder on something hard and bit off a whimper as his stomach rolled again.  

For a few seconds, all he heard was the frantic thud of his heartbeat echoed by the tinkle of falling glass.  Stiles opened his eyes, wincing when blood dripped into it. He licked his lips, blinking stupidly at the interior of the car. It looked different. Upside down.

“ Stiles! ”

Stiles jolted, looking up at Derek. The car had obviously crashed, and Stiles was just as obviously wedged in the front seat floorboard, twisted up with his feet almost on the seat. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been tossed that far.  Derek leaned forward through the broken windshield, moving so that he could reach out for Stiles.

Stiles just blinked. The fuzziness in his head was sending the small space in the car rolling around like the vehicle was in the process of flipping again. Stiles wasn’t sure what was real or what was just in his head. Derek’s voice was just as indistinct, just as confusing.

He thought he heard Derek’s growl, the one that he used to use when he was worried. Not that Derek would ever admit to being worried, but once upon a time, Stiles used to be pretty good at deciphering Derek’s growls to fit any particular sourwolf emotion. That didn’t make any sense.  Derek didn’t care about him, right?  It was very confusing. But before Stiles could try to figure it out, the blackness rushed up to meet him, and Stiles didn’t really care about much of anything.  

***
Stiles blinked awake, feeling like his eyelids had weights attached to them. He saw a bright light overhead and winced, squeezing his eyes shut again. His nose wrinkled at the strong smell of antiseptic and Clorox. It gave him a sense of place.  Doctor’s office. Not a hospital?

As though from far away, Stiles heard Zoe’s muffled talking, heard Derek’s voice, and his dad’s low response. He must have made some kind of pain sound because between one blink and another, his dad’s face swam up over him, looking down.

“Stiles? Jesus, Stiles.”

“Da-” Stiles coughed, wincing at the dryness of his throat. “Dad?” He tried it again, licking at dry lips. His head throbbed painfully.  “What--?” Stiles reached up to touch his head, grimacing at the feeling of the butterfly bandage holding his skin over his left eye together.

“What happened? Do you mean from when you were pistol-whipped and kidnapped from outside my house? Oh, not too much. I need to paint the house. Kate and Tom broke up. I need to mow the grass. What the actual fuck, Stiles?”

Stiles held up a hand. “Can we do this without the shouting? My head is kind of fucked.”

His dad made a face that looked like a cross between constipation and an aneurysm. It was a look Stiles remembered well.  Stiles had the crazy urge to apologize. “Look. I’m sorry that I stomped off like that, but I still think you’re crazy to ask---”

“Crazy, huh? I still think it’s the best--”

Stiles forced himself to sit up, wincing at the scrunchy sound of the paper on the examination table. It sounded much louder than it was supposed to.  He blinked, catching sight of Derek bending over Zoe. Rage hit him like a punch.  “Get away from her!”

“Stiles--”

Stiles didn’t even hear his dad’s cautious tone. He was too focused on getting Derek away from his daughter.  He ignored the way he had to grip the examination table so that he didn’t end up on his ass and took a lurching step forward, “You have got to be crazy to think I would spend one second with him! You want to be glad he came and got me? Fine. Great. You trust him enough to work on our security system? Again, fine. Whatever. But you want to ask him why the guy who kidnapped me was in Derek’s fucking car ?”  Stiles ignored the way the floor spun as he bent to grab Zoe, pulling her up and onto his hip with a wince. He took two large steps back. “I’m just saying- I only know two Alphas. One is an eighty-year-old woman who collects those stupid fucking teaspoons.  The other? Is right... there !”

“Stiles.”

If Derek had sounded pissed or frustrated, Stiles would have walked out of there. Somehow. Even if he had to bowl over Derek to do it. If he had sounded concerned or shown any fake pity (because there’s no way that Derek would have enough emotion to actually pity anyone, let alone Stiles), Stiles would have tried to kick him in the balls before walking out.

But Derek didn’t do any of that.

His shoulders slumped. He pinched the top of his nose and sighed heavily, looking for all the world like he was completely exhausted.  Derek looked up at Stiles’ dad, then back to Stiles, over his forehead, down his filthy t-shirt, over the little girl held in Stiles’ arms.  If possible, it looked like even more of the fight went out of Derek. It was enough that Stiles tilted his head, widening his gaze.  When his dad came up to lightly touch his back, Stiles jumped. It sent his head throbbing. Reflexively, he squeezed Zoe to him. As before in his bedroom, just holding her and smelling her sweet baby-shampoo scent (although Stiles was pretty sure he detected the odor of chocolate ice cream) made him feel better almost immediately.

“Stiles. Look. You’re right. You have... no reason to trust me. But you can’t stay here. Your dad is right. You have to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

“You keep saying what I have to do, Derek. But you don’t seem to think I can keep up with any explanations. Why don’t you just... “  Fuck off. Stiles bit his lip to keep the words back behind his teeth. Seeing Derek like this was confusing as hell.  “.. just tell me what’s going on?”

“Excuse me?”

The three of them jumped in unison, which Stiles would have thought pretty damn hilarious at just about any other moment in his life.  The doctor stood there, her eyebrow raised as she looked at the three of them caught in their tense tableau.

“Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles opened his mouth before he realized she wasn’t talking to him. He hadn’t been ‘Mr. Stilinski’ in a long time.

“Yes?”

“I need you to sign here and here, please,” she said, thrusting a clipboard towards Stiles’ dad. “And I would like to point out once again that this is very much against medical advice. Here we can monitor your son. The excess levels of norepinephrine in his bloodstream, the testosterone-based luteinizing hormone... you can’t seriously think he would be better off--”

Derek’s growl cut her off mid babble. Stiles heard her words ricocheting around his brain like pebbles in a tin can.

“Wait. I’m... I’m in heat ?” There was an almost painfully awkward moment where Stiles felt both his father and Derek jerk their gazes to him. “That’s... That’s not possible.”  He felt like his knees were turning to jelly. “I’ve. I’ve been very careful.” Not true- his mind supplied. He’d missed one of his suppressants. But that couldn’t have possibly mattered. He’d had over two years of a build-up of immunity to his own body’s fucked-up chemistry. He’d been told that missing one pill worked kind of like a woman and birth control- that he’d be okay as long as he took the double dose as soon as he remembered. “I want the injection then.”

“Stiles--” Shit. His dad had that cautious tone that let Stiles know he was about to hear something that he really, really didn’t want to hear. “You can’t.”

That didn’t make any sense. Of course, he could.

Stiles actually physically jerked away from Derek when he heard Derek’s words. “It’s a reproductive instinct, Stiles, not a reproductive cycle .” Derek’s voice was flat aside from the emphasis he was putting on the differences between werewolves and humans. “You can’t just ... keep it from happening with drugs and hormones.”

Stiles jerked again, as though he’d been slapped. He was beyond humiliation, beyond anger at the idea of his business, his body being discussed like it was nothing in that horrible, unemotional voice of Derek’s. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing since I first presented.”

The doctor, who had been watching the conversation like a spectator at a ping-pong match, gasped. “You’ve been suppressing your heat for-” she checked his chart. “For over two years ?”

“I’m not like full-blooded Omegas. It’s not that difficult.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s just that. The labs on the bloodwork aren’t back yet, but when they are, I can tell you they’ll support the fact that you’ve pumped your body so full of ‘suppressants’ that your own cycle doesn’t know which way is up.  Your boyfriend is right. There’s not much you can do about biological instinct.”  She flipped to a page in the chart, pointing at it as though the almost illegible scrawl proved her point. “The suppressants your father brought with you from your things were not suppressants, but a common... hormone enhancer. Instead of stifling your heat, it has brought it-” she broke off to lick her lips in a way that was purely unconscious as her eyes flicked an unnatural blue, nostrils flaring slightly as though scenting  the air in the small room- “out.” She jerked, shaking herself out of it. Her face flooded with embarrassment, and the doctor forced herself to take two large steps back from Stiles. She flicked her gaze to Derek and back to her chart, flushing.

That.   That was exactly why Stiles had no interest in embracing his mom’s heritage. He didn’t even know this woman, but she’d obviously scented whatever funky scent he was exhibiting (It was really difficult to not compare his heat to someone ringing the dinner bell in an old Western and yelling ‘Come and get it!’) and just reacted, regardless of the fact that his dad and his kid were both in the same room.  Stiles blinked. Wait. His suppressants had been switched out? He blinked again, a numb sort of fury beginning behind his chest. Something that the wolf had said popped into his exhausted brain, but before he could make any sort of connection, he lost his train of thought.

Stiles could see out of the corner of his eye as Derek turned his head slowly towards the doctor. He couldn’t see what was on Derek’s face, but he didn’t really need to. She babbled something about a concussion, and something else about the care of Stiles’ various cuts and bruises, before disappearing from the room as though she’d just remembered another urgent appointment elsewhere.  

“Daddy?”

Stiles had to take a deep breath, physically forcing himself out of his head and back in the moment. The swimmy feeling he’d had while in the car kept threatening to overwhelm him.  “Yes, baby?” Zoe had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, perfectly content to snuggle against Stiles’ chest while everyone around her talked.

“Why do you have an owwie on your head? Do you want me to kiss it better?”

Stiles blinked, already nodding. “That would be a big help, actually. I have an owwie on my head because there was someone who wants daddy to leave you and grandpa and go stay with him for a while.” Stiles winced, remembering the young driver twisted next to him in the seat, halfway through the windshield.  Whatever grand plan he’d had was abruptly ended when he’d wrecked Derek’s car. At the time, his bleeding out had an almost dreamlike quality to it, but now it was almost viscerally real. Stiles felt bile in his throat and forced himself to put down Zoe. He crossed to the small sink and helped himself to some cool, sweet water, purposefully breathing in and out, slowly forcing control over his trembling, exhausted body.

“You know? It just occurred to me that I can’t put this together without all the pieces. Derek- you can’t tell me that some guy I’ve never met before wants me that badly. The kid in your car..? I didn’t even know his name. But he hated me so much for having Zuh- uh. For being an Omega that he was willing to leave Ethel’s pack for a chance with this ... guy.”

“Zoe, come here a minute, honey. I’ll take you to find a snack. I think I have some cookies in the car.”

Zoe’s face lit up, and Stiles was too exhausted to protest either the completely obvious way his dad orchestrated things so he could beat a hasty exit stage left or the way he was finally too numb to feel much at finally having the chance to have it out with Derek.  Before the doctor had interrupted them-- and no fucking way was Stiles actually ready to acknowledge what she’d said, thank you very much-- Derek had seemed on the verge of... Stiles inwardly shrugged, bending his neck and splashing some more of the water over his face, carefully avoiding his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. The butterfly bandage and the circles under his eyes made his skin look almost translucent in the harsh fluorescent lights.

He was just really, really sick of this shit. Stiles turned, watching with dull eyes as Zoe walked out of the room with her hand, clasped firmly in his dad’s. For his part, his dad gave Stiles one quick, unreadable glance before shutting the door softly behind him.  Stiles turned to look at Derek, raising his eyebrow at the way Derek just stood there, staring down at the linoleum.

Stiles took a few steps and sat down in the chair, stretching out with a wince. “Do you realize that it’s only been three days since I called my dad? This is so, so fucked up.”

Derek took a deep breath. Stiles watched him from under his eyelids. Derek shifted his weight, popping his knuckles, then his neck nervously before leaning against the examination table with his arms folded over his chest, facing Stiles.

“You’re right. I’ve not been telling you everything.”

Stiles snorted. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes just in time to save himself endless amounts of pain. Stiles also managed to keep the No shit, Sherlock from coming out of his mouth. Barely. It took some effort.

“Your dad told me that we’re not leaving this room until I told you everything.”

Stiles couldn’t help the bark of laughter. “Really. You’re going to tell me everything, huh?”  It was mean of him, but Stiles didn’t even have it in him to care.  From the angle that he was slouched in the chair, Stiles could see that Derek’s face was all cheekbones and angles, tilted as it was as he stared at the floor.

Derek held up one hand, tiredly. “Damnit, Stiles. I’m not exactly the only person in this room keeping secre--” Derek broke off what he was going to say with a low curse. Stiles felt his heart freeze in his chest as he watched Derek take a calming breath. He felt like his entire body was hit with a live wire. There was no way. No way Derek could possibly be saying what Stiles thought he was saying.

“I used to have a really big pack. The Hale family, I mean. No one ever thought it was dangerous for all of us to live in each other’s pockets because we were so powerful. Until Kate figured out that strategically, it was a really... efficient way of killing several birds with one stone.”

Stiles winced. That had to be just about the saddest, most unfortunate metaphor that he’d ever heard.

“My mom was the Alpha back then. I was the youngest of everyone, so I didn’t really deal with--” Derek broke off, making a gesture like he was waving off a fly. “all the pack stuff. Laura didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but since the pack was pretty damn small by then, it didn’t really matter. So, when I was the Alpha, the actual idea that another pack would want to move in on me. On... my family’s territory... I.”  Derek broke off, looking up at Stiles for the first time.  “I didn’t handle it well.”

Stiles forced himself to sit there and not show any reaction to Derek’s words. He knew that he shouldn’t be feeling any sort of pity for Derek, for the kid who’d gone through a terrible, unimaginable trauma. Stiles had been so hurt, so beyond pissed at Derek for so long that it seemed unfathomable that he could feel anything for Derek that wasn’t hatred.

Only- that was the problem. He’d felt a lot of things for Derek Hale over the years. And if Stiles was honest- very little of those things were anything approaching something as cut and dried as hatred.  “Okay.”  He didn’t know what else to say.  That seemed pretty safe.

Derek pressed his lips together. When he spoke, it was low. “That’s an understatement. That... last time you and. We...”

Stiles sat up as though called to attention. His stomach rolled, the headache pounding behind his eyes. “No. Hell, no. Still not talking about that. Look.” Stiles ignored the beat of panic in his gut. “I appreciate this... opening up thing that you’re doing. I’m sure it’s made you a warmer and fuzzier Alpha. But right now, I have a concussion from some kid- a kid I’ve known for two years, mind you- deciding to chauffeur me to his Alpha’s house via the pistol-whipping school of taxi driving. That crazy doctor just told me that I’m probably going to be going into heat in the next day or so, and oh yeah. There’s some whackjob out to make me his bitch. Do you think we can move this along a little? Maybe stick to the pertinent facts?”

Derek flinched. If Stiles hadn’t been looking right at him, he never would have believed it. On anyone else, Stiles would have said that his words had hurt them.

But that was ridiculous.

Derek’s jaw tightened. “You do know the other Alpha. You dated him.”

Stiles repeated what he’d just heard in his head. Even the second time, it made no sense. “The only person I’ve ever dated was you.” Stiles didn’t recognize the voice he was using. It was like some twisted, dark version of his normal voice, pulled unwillingly from his gut. Whatever the fuck Derek was saying just made no sense.

Derek scoffed. “I’m sure you would remember him considering that he shot you.”

Stiles blinked.

Derek frowned.

Stiles blinked again.

“I didn’t date him. For Christ’s sake, I barely knew the guy!”

Derek huffed out a breath like he was trying to remain calm.

Stiles didn’t know why this one little fact was so important. “Derek. You know when I’m lying. Get your stupid sourwolf head out of your stupid sourwolf ass and listen. I was just distracting him so you and Scott could do-” Stiles waved his hand around. “Not like I know what your plan was because you never bothered to tell me. But as a distraction, it was top form if I do say so myself.”

Derek was staring at him, so pale that his scruff looked almost blue in the fluorescent light of the medical office.

Stiles gave him a ‘ seriously what the fuck ’ look. “What?”

Derek shifted forward like he was about to take a step.  Stiles squared his shoulders, feeling like he was missing half of the script to an important part of a movie.

“But I thought...” Derek trailed off, obviously not even realizing that he was speaking out loud. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Stiles slumped back in the chair. “Okay, so.. this guy. That I kissed like, once, suddenly has a hard-on for me? Like, watching me sleep and stalking my daughter and. Wait. Wait. That guy. Ethel’s wolf said that he put stuff in motion so I’d come home.”

Derek nodded, a little woodenly. His gaze was still looking off somewhere over Stiles’ head, as though he were deep in thought and only partially following the conversation.

Stiles had to quell the urge to snap his fingers to get Derek’s attention. “Derek. Focus here, man. Let’s put aside the incredibly bizarre fact that for whatever reason, that Alpha seems to think I’m going to move in with him after he’s tried to kill my baby and me and live in some kind of twisted domestic bliss. Let’s also put aside the fact that he had me taken right outside my home. He’s powerful; he knows a lot of people. You and my dad seem to think that running away is the best idea, but if you know who this guy is, can’t you just track him down?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? He’s gone underground. That’s why Mark and I think it would be easier to control the situation if we weren’t playing right into his fucking hands. He wants you here- well. We go somewhere else, so he’s off-base. Out of his comfort zone.”

“For how long, Derek? How long am I supposed to just wander around the west coast and hide from this asshole?” Stiles didn’t even realize that he’d gotten to his feet until he swayed, and Derek reached out as though he didn’t even need to think about it, steadying Stiles on his feet. Stiles was so shocked by the jolt of Derek’s skin against his that he just stood there a little stupidly, staring up at him.

“You’re right. As plans go, it’s pretty damn weak. Your dad has some outside help on this, and he’s convinced that they can track him as long as you and Zoe are out of harm’s way. Look. Stiles.” Derek’s hand tightened briefly on Stiles’ elbow before letting go and falling by his side.

“There is nothing that I can say that will excuse what I did to you. Nothing .” Derek’s throat worked. “I just need you to trust me enough to believe that. I will keep you and Zoe safe, Stiles.”



TBC!

One million apologies for the lateness in this chapter. Those of you that follow me on Tumblr and Twitter know I’ve broken my hand.  Typing with two fingers is a bit of a challenge, to say the least! Thank you for your patience.

Chapter Text

Ack! I forgot to thank Silvarbelle for looking at the last chapter for me when my other two cheerleaders weren’t available. I completely forgot to thank her for pointing out a few places where I hadn’t flushed out the plot very well. So if you liked the last chapter, make sure to thank her! (And bb, thanks for letting me randomly tumblr bomb you and ask to look at it!!)

While I’m thanking people, diva0789 is always slammed with work and school but always does a fast turnaround. I promise my comma splices would be even worse without her.  THANK YOU!


And always, jlm121 for 1) dragging me into this fandom, 2) being my best bb, and 3) HOW LONG UNTIL MAY AND TREK COMES OUT  AND WE SEE IT TOGETHER AGAIN!?!? GODDAMN.

Chapter Warnings:  OCs abound. Plotty stuff. And you might need slash-goggles.

CHAPTER 7  --INTERLUDE--

The scream of rage echoed through the hallway. There were several werewolves who winced before shooting furtive looks at each other out of the corner of hastily-lowered eyes at the pain-filled sound. Hearing it wasn’t exactly something that was unique.

“Michael!” The Alpha’s voice roared down the hall.

One of the younger wolves froze before turning and almost running towards the back of the house, the muttered ‘shit’ barely noticeable in the sound of his feet tripping over the rug on the floor, his hip bumping gracelessly against a small end table. The sound of the sighs of relief from the other wolves, all glad that it wasn’t their names he had demanded in the room, was clearly audible.  

Michael knocked perfunctorily against the door before walking inside. The familiar view from the three different sets of monitors never failed to send a shiver of creepy down his spine. Michael had been tasked with staking out the Stilinski residence with cameras before Stiles had come back to California, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t agree with what his Alpha was doing. The cameras in Stiles’ home weren’t showing anything, of course, but the Stilinski ones...

Michael was afraid that he’d see the way Stiles had panicked in his dreams. You couldn’t fake that kind of terror. They hadn’t had sound (that had been Gregory’s job), but it had been easy enough to see the effect the Alpha’s little present had had on everyone.  Michael hadn’t wanted to witness that.  

The complete and utter irony was that this was all his fault. He’d been bored in the Massachusetts pack.  A Beta, but overlooked for Ethel’s own blood. He’d been there the night Stiles had saved Harper’s life. He’d watched Stiles throw himself at the hunter, watched how he’d swung the dropped shotgun like a baseball bat right as the Hunter was ready to send the crossbow through Harper’s heart.  

A chance conversation on a messageboard between him and his twin, and suddenly he wasn’t overlooked, ignored Beta from Ethel’s pack, but courted. When he and Gregory had moved across the country, they had been treated well. The best clothes. The best toys. Gregory had been ecstatic, believing that the Alpha had wanted him for more than his body. He’d believed that he was going to be so much more than just another Omega, licking the floor for scraps tossed to him by a largely apathetic Alpha.

Michael and Harper had taken pictures of an exhausted but triumphant Stiles and baby Zoe after she’d been born, and when he’d shown the Alpha those, well. He’d been very pleased. Sometimes Michael would wake up in the middle of the night, his heart pounding at the remembered look on the Alpha’s face when he’d seen Stiles for the first time. But it couldn’t have been the first time, could it? Not with that cold, hyper-aware recognition on his face. Still, there were wolves literally throwing themselves at Michael’s feet to win his favor. Gregory was on cloud nine, in love with someone who he’d believed wanted him.

Then, of course, it had become time to pay the piper.  Little things, really.  Put a camera here, a microphone there. The almost negligent conversation where the Alpha had expressed a desire to know more about Stiles. Always Stiles. The note in Zoe’s stroller.

That’s when Michael had realized what he was being asked to do. He didn’t much have anything against Stiles. Funny kid. Bigmouth. Kind of a dork. The kid was adorable, though. It was hard not to love the little girl... and Stiles was absolutely sweet with her.  Gregory had seemed a little too keen on driving the car, attempting to mow down who he thought of as his competition. Michael hadn’t much liked the way his twin had changed, becoming darker and more willing to do the dirty deeds his Alpha had insisted needed to be done. And fucking around with that cute little girl? That shit wasn’t cool at all.

Still, being called onto the carpet now filled him with fear. He well remembered the last time he’d been here. He’d flatly refused to fuck around with Stiles’ medicine. Gregory had been furious at him and had jumped at the chance to do his Alpha one last favor, despite the wrongness of it. They hadn’t spoken since then because if Gregory couldn’t see how completely fucked up all this was, then Michael didn’t want to be around him.  When the Alpha had found out that Gregory had had to take up for his sudden onset of ethics, he’d been less than pleased. That brilliant plan had ended in him tied in silver, forced to watch his own blood slowly draining out of his body for hours, only to heal again. And again. And again, as the Alpha sat curled on his seat, face ghostly pale in the light of the reflected computer screens, watching Stiles sleep.

“Gregory is dead.”

Michael blinked, coming out of his thoughts with a jolt.

“Your idiot brother couldn’t handle the simple task of bringing my mate to me.”

“I don’t. I... don’t understand.” Michael’s whisper was like the sound of something already close to death.

There was a growl and another crash of a broken monitor. Reflex allowed Michael to duck the missile as the Alpha threw it at his head, throwing his head back and screaming with rage.  The sound, contained as it was in the small room, sent Michael’s own balls crawling up in his gut with terror.

“Hale followed him! He took him somewhere, and I cannot see where they went! It’s always Hale.” The Alpha screamed again, the sound ending in a low growl of pure fear. If Hell had a sound, it would sound like him. “They aren’t at home. They aren’t anywhere! I don’t even know if they’re in Beacon Hills!” Michael couldn’t help the small backward step he took, back towards the door.

That was a mistake, of course. The Alpha’s red eyes snapped to him, sensing the movement of prey.  The flash of the Alpha’s teeth were oddly white in the darkroom. Michael didn’t even have time to scream before he was on him, pinned and desperately trying to make himself into as small of a target as possible.

Michael’s scream of agony was cut off in a horrible, wet-sounding gurgle as his throat was abruptly torn out.

The werewolves in the other room cringed, trying not to listen to the sound of teeth tearing apart flesh or the muted, thick sound of contented feeding.

******
“Now look. I’ve had just about enough of your shit.” Lydia looked like the world’s smallest general, seated calmly at her kitchen table. She stood and carefully pushed back her chair, then walked around the room, making eye contact with each person that she’d invited, not bothering to hide her enjoyment of watching them squirm under her direct gaze.  Jackson grinned from where he sat on the kitchen counter. He met her gaze with one raised eyebrow, leaning back a little so that his weight was on his arms, legs swinging a little as he waited.

“Look. I tried to---”

“Oh, shut up.”

Scott shut his mouth with a snap, big brown eyes registering his hurt.

Lydia whirled with a swing of her hair and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him like something nasty she’d found on her shoe. “What on earth made you think that Stiles would want to see you?”

“He’s. He’s my best friend.”

“Wrong!” Lydia ignored the amused chuff of air from Jackson’s direction. “He was your best friend, and you ripped his heart out. Good job. And before you bleat at me about it being two years ago, you didn’t see him after you guys fucked him over.”

“But...”

“You know, McCall, I never really thought you were much. It wasn’t your skill that made you co-captain with me, but the fact that you were some fucked up supernatural creature that gave you the reflexes. It let you mimic being an athlete. And I was okay with that.”

Lydia watched as Scott darted a startled look over at Jackson, eyes widening even more. It was probably the first time he’d heard Jackson speak since they’d all graduated.

Jackson pushed up so that he was sitting straight. “But you didn’t see him. I’m sure you were able to sleep at night-  all of you--” his dismissive gaze flicked over Erica and Boyd like they were nothing-- “because you told yourselves that you were doing the right thing.  That you were being all noble or something.”

Lydia didn’t miss the way Danny’s gaze met Jackson’s out of the corner of his eye, his face softening into something almost like pride as Jackson’s words sunk in on the stubborn werewolves around Lydia’s kitchen table.

“Well!” Her voice was brittle with fake kindness. “And that worked out so well for all of you, didn’t it? Allison quit school to out-Argent her wackadoodle grandfather. You two are so dysfunctional that even looking at you causes me physical pain.” It did. Erica and Boyd had probably felt like they were just doing what Derek had ordered them to do, not realizing that sending Stiles away would break all of them.  “And Scott. You’ve got nothing. You still work part-time at the vet’s office, trying to reconcile the fact that your life really hasn’t changed much.” Her voice lowered, the brittleness sounding as saccharine-sweet and artificial as the fake sugar Danny insisted on using in his coffee. “The only thing wrong with that is that you’re not sixteen anymore.”

Scott lowered his head.  “I... I didn’t mean to. I. Just wanted him. To stay safe.”

“Oh yeah? Well, that’s gone splendidly. Allison told me that not only was Stiles, your self-professed best friend, almost run over by a car; he was assaulted in broad fucking daylight--not to mention the way that this psycho has also targeted his daughter.”

Erica’s voice broke a little when she whispered. “Daughter?”

Lydia’s gaze sharpened, turning away from Scott to settle back on the blonde at the table, frozen from where she had nervously been drawing figure-eights on the wood with one fingernail.

“Oh, you missed that? Nice.”  Lydia had the urge to pinch the top of her nose to try to stave off the headache that dealing with stupid people always gave her. “Yes. Our dear Stiles is a proud papa.”

“Found them!”  Danny almost jumped up from behind the laptop- grinning from ear to ear. Lydia walked quickly back over to where Danny sat curled around his laptop, almost vibrating with excitement.  “Look. Whoa, his car is wrecked. I hacked into the security feeds.”

Lydia clucked under her breath.

“What? It’s not my fault they have shitty security. The report says that there were two people in the vehicle, and one was released to his father’s custody. But no mention of Stiles entering any hospital. Hmm. Must be a private clinic.” There were the clackity sounds of Danny typing. “Yeah, nothing yet. It will take me some time to find out where they went. You’re sure they’re okay, though?”

Lydia nodded. “Allison’s text said that Mr. Stilinski was in a safe house with her dad. They’re not going back to his place; that it was compromised.”  Lydia felt the smooth slide of Jackson’s familiar fingers against the back of her neck and relaxed into him for a minute.

“He wouldn’t have gone to a safe house with Argent if Stiles wasn’t okay.”

“Look, it’s fairly obvious that you guys have us here for a reason. Are you going to tell us what you want us to do? I mean...” Lydia and Jackson turned as one person, staring back at the kitchen table.  Boyd so seldom spoke that when he did, people around him couldn’t help but listen. He’d reached over to rest his hand on Erica’s, who had leaned into him with the ease of a move so well-practiced that it was obvious that it was as second-nature as breathing. “..We’d do anything to fix this. We would have done something sooner, but we couldn’t find him.”

“Derek thought he was dead.” Erica’s whisper was loud in the quiet room. “He... he was so... I mean, I didn’t know he could be like that. He was so sorry but didn’t have a way to apologize.”

“Well, boo fucking hoo for Derek Hale. He never was very good at thinking out the repercussions of his little plans. I spent enough weeks in the hospital to attest to that.” She took a deep breath. The thing was, she was just as complicit as the rest of them. She hadn’t done any better for Stiles than his so-called friends. Not until she’d caught a glimpse of him one day across campus, so rail-thin and broken-looking that at first, she hadn’t recognized the sweet, goofy boy that had crushed on her for most of his life.

Lydia shook off her thoughts, tilting her head as she looked from where Danny was typing fiendishly, humming a little under his breath in that way he did when he was completely focused (even knowing how much she needed the information, the tuneless or worse- off-key humming still drove her bugshit)  to where Jackson still stared at the monitor, one hand resting casually on Danny’s strong shoulder, to the way Scott, Erica, and Boyd sat listlessly, looking like dogs who had been kicked one too many times.

“Well. I’m so glad you feel that way. Because we? We’re going to do something to fix this.”


****

Text from an unknown number:
    --So okay, I think I’d be better off if Jenna was kicking my ass.

Harper:
    --John?

Text from an unknown number:

--Yeah. My phone was broken. Had to get a new one. Haven’t switched over my number yet- just use this one.

Harper:
    --okay.  (pause to enter the number into the phone.) how are you? how’s my favorite girl?

    --John?

Stiles:

--Everything is so fucked. I want to come back but can’t. I need to ask you something, and I need you to not freak out when I do. You’ll tell me the truth, right? Please?

Harper:
    --wtf. i’ve never lied to you. WHAT’S WRONG??? i’m going to call you.
    --pick up, John.
    --John!!

Stiles:
    --No. Bad idea. Texting is better. I’m okay. Mostly. Banged up. Zoe is okay too.

Harper:
    --if that motherfucker has hurt you again...
    --i’ll kill him.
    --i will kill him. You better tell me what the fuck is going on. now.

Stiles:

--No. Not Derek. Well, not directly. Promise. He wouldn’t hurt me like that. However, this sudden onset of badassness is kind of attractive. We could totally give the lifemates thing another shot. Make your mom happy.

Harper:

--lol. Jenna would rip off your dick and beat you with it. plus you+lady parts= trolllollololol.

    --now enough bs. talk.
    --well, type.
    --goddamnit, can’t i just call you?

Stiles:

-- No, we’re driving. Zoe and I are in the backseat, before you ask. She’s asleep.

-- Okay, I have to ask. How well did you know... shit I can’t remember his name. The guy that always answered your mom’s door.

Harper:
    --gregory?

Stiles:
    -- yeah him.

Harper:
    --not well really. he left not long after you did, why?

Stiles:
    -- Do you think your mom knew he left? Like did she support it?

Harper:
    -- tell me what the fuck is going on or i give my mom this number

Stiles:
    -You really can be a bitch.

-- Okay. Gregory kidnapped me. He hit me in the head with a gun and stole Derek’s car so I wouldn’t know it was him. I think he’s dead, but no one said for sure.

-- I would say sorry- but really not. He was taking me to a local Alpha. NOT DEREK.

Harper:
    --ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OK?

--what about zoe

---jfc come HOME. we can protect you

-- and you think my mom would condone this?

Stiles:

- No. That’s why I’m so confused. He was crazy, Harp. And the guy he works for is crazy too. I mean, I kissed him once when I was like, seventeen and he’s been looking for me since. I need you to check out my house. There are cameras hidden all over the pla-

--sorry character limit. Place. Put all my and Zoe’s stuff in storage. You can tell your mom and Jenna but no one else okay?

--Having some trust issues.

-- Harper?

Harper:

--sorry, was flipping the fuck out. Jenna said she’d be ready to go in ten minutes. don’t think i’m being indelicate, but why would gregory do this? are there others in my pack that are fucking little cowards? i want to bite something, ngl. gregory had a bro.

--jenna sez no one has heard from him either. but i can’t believe he’d do anything to you. he’s a good guy.

Stiles:
    --But you’ll do that for me?

Harper:
    -- you kno i will. dumbass. so yr with Derek rn? where are you going?

Stiles:
    --Not completely sure. He’s just driving. It’s weird.

Harper:

--weird how? and we’re going to go over to your place in the am after we talk to mom.

Stiles:

--Weird. There’s something else that I haven’t told you. Fuck. I don’t even want to think about it. Texting you makes it real, almost.

Harper:
    --oh jesus. now what.
    --aww, thanks for the pic. she looks sweet when she’s sleeping like that.

Stiles:

--I’m in heat. The Alpha wants... me. He made sure I’d be ready when I got here.

Harper:
    --and instead ur driving around with derek?!

Stiles:
    --fml
    --hard to ignore everything. Feels like electricity under my skin.
    --i don’t want to sleep with him, Harp. I don’t think I can when I don’t trust him.

Harper:
    --u never really told me what he did to you.
    -- on second thought, don’t. have a feeling that if i kill him for real you’d be sad.
    --btw. have very important q to ask you. what's a werewolf's least favorite beer?  

Stiles:

-- What? Did you mom find something out that would help me figure out who this guy is?

Harper:
    --coors... the silver bullet. haha.

Stiles:
    ---asshole.

Harper:
    -Shut up. you love me.

Stiles:
    --Yeah.
    -- Shit. What am I going to do?

Harper:
    --well, zoe is right there, so i’m thinking blowing him is probably a no-go.
    --i’m kidding
    -- Hey why was the werewolf arrested at the beaches shop?
   
Stiles:
    --Oh my god.

Harper:
    -- for chop lifting!! CHOP. LIFTINNG!!!!!

Stiles:

--Seriously. Kill me now.

Harper:

--u can’t hide your love. it burns thru like the firey heat of ten thousand burning suns.

--John?

--ok ill stop with the jokes. talk to me kid.

--jenna sez hi btw.

Stiles:
    --I’m here. Getting sleepy, but Derek won’t let me go to sleep.

Harper:
    --??!!!??!

Stiles:
    --Concussion. Mild, but my head feels like that time we went out for body shots.

Harper:
    --hm. you know you talked about him that night? funny you mention it now.

Stiles:
    --What? Explain.

Harper:

--one of the reasons i never took you out again. it was hard enough getting you to agree to let my mom watch zoe for a few hours. you didn’t give deets, but it wasn’t hard to tell that someone named derek broke your heart.

Stiles:
    --Oh.

Harper:

--i can’t say that i know what you’re going thru. i don’t. sounds fucking terrifying really. but you are pretty obvs fucked up about being in heat. you never wanted to talk about it, and i never pushed.

--okay, i didn’t push. much.

--but just ignoring your body’s cycle like that can’t be good for you. what if something happens to you because of it? what about zoe?

Stiles:

--You’re right. You don’t know a damn thing about it. Look, I have to go anyway. Derek finally pulled over to some hotel.

--You have no idea what it’s like to be a slave to your body, then to hate yourself for it.  Because no, I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. My heart is still stupid at just breathing in his scent. But I fucking want him, Harper.

--So don’t go talking about stuff that you CLEARLY have no idea about when your own house needs cleaning up.

Harper:
  
    --hey, John, come on.
    --don’t be mad
    --i’m sorry

*****
Mark Stilinski sighed, staring moodily at the condensation on his beer. The safe house was really more of a safe apartment, owned by the Argents and rented out to hunters. It never failed to amuse him how the tiny town of Beacon Hills was fairly bursting at the seams with supernatural creatures of just about every shape and size, and enough glory-seeking hunters to take out each and every one of them, yet they didn’t have their own Wal-Mart.

He’d never been particularly fond of Chris Argent.  It was like swallowing bile to accept any help from the stoic, supercilious asshole. He’d never quite been able to forgive the way Chris had  just sat back and let his sister wipe out the Hales. And when they’d killed Laura- well. Proving that the Argents had been behind the fire at the Hale place had felt something like forgiveness for that poor girl’s death, even though he’d never been able to tie up everything to his satisfaction.

He fucking hated it when the evidence didn’t completely support his gut feelings on something.  

“That beer do something to you? You’re glaring at it hard enough.”

Stilinski reached out to grab the bottle, drinking the rest of the alcohol with a twist of his lips.  “No. Just been a .... long day.”

“We’ll find this guy, Mark.” Chris scooted his chair a little closer, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes a little. “I know you must be out of your mind with worry, but ... Allison is really good at what she does. I have some of my best people--”

“That’s just it! There’s stuff to be done, and I’m just sitting here!”

Chris sat back in his chair, blinking. “What can you do? I don’t claim to know your kid very well, but I do know he’d be... it would kill him to know that you’d gotten hurt because of something he’d been caught up in.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Not trying to be ungrateful.” Bullshit. He completely was. Stilinski sighed, resting his pounding head against the cool glass bottle, rolling it a little against his forehead. “Just... feel a bit like an old bull put out to pasture, sitting here with my thumb up my ass while Derek fucking Hale takes my kid and my grandkid off into God knows where because I couldn’t keep them safe.”

“You had no way of knowing that your house was bugged.”

“I should have known!” He slammed down his bottle. He jumped up out of his chair, not caring that he knocked it over as he started pacing around the small living space. It was only about ten steps from the wall to the door, but at this point, he just needed to burn off the energy. Chris let him alone while he paced back and forth like a tiger in a cage.

There was a knock on the door, and Allison slipped in, her face carefully blank as she stepped around him, walking over to her dad.  “It’s done. We found eight different feeds. no sound, but infrared in his bedroom. We also found... something else.”  The pause was off enough that Stilinski stopped, turning towards the two Argents. It was almost eerie how alike they stood. Somehow, he remembered Allison being a lot sweeter than what he saw. Now she was just as hard and cold as the other hunters he’d met.

“What?” His voice was just as harsh in his head as when he spoke. Mark couldn’t help it. He just felt... twitchy. Like something was about to happen, and he was just fucking around here on the sidelines, waiting.

“How sure are you that Derek and Stiles weren’t followed?”

Chris’s eyebrow rose as he looked at his offspring, not speaking but clearly thinking very hard. Mark knew that look. That was the parental what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. He’d invented that look.

“Pretty damn sure. They didn’t even take anything with them. Not even their phones. Not even Zoe’s diaper bag. We weren’t sure if it was bugged or not.  Derek and Stiles are both using drop phones, bought at two different places.” Mark was about 87% sure that Derek was taking the rental car but had no plans on keeping it. He wouldn’t put it past Hale to steal another vehicle to be sure he wasn’t being followed. Funny. Normally he wasn’t all that keen on illegal behavior. But when it came to keeping Stiles safe, he was on board with any goddamn thing Derek wanted to do.

And that was another thing. He would have to be blind not to see how much his son still cared for Derek. It had hit him almost viscerally; overwhelmed by memories of him and Amanda when they’d been young and stupid and so in love that neither of them even realized how they’d lean towards each other unconsciously or follow the other one with their gaze to check where they were when entering a room. Or how one would look up before the other said anything, anticipating a conversation before it started. When Mark had heard Stiles tell him why he’d left, it had been hard to hide the rage that had poured through him, boiling through his veins like fire. Oh yeah. Mark and Derek had had quite a few things to “discuss,” but before they could, that sick fuck had sent Stiles the video of all of them being stalked, and all of the shit had hit the roof.

But when it had been Derek who was able to calm Stiles down? To get him to hold Zoe again? Mark had started to think that maybe this wasn’t as one-sided as his son, so adamantly believed. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted them together, though. Any asshole who would hurt Stiles like that deserved the punch to the face that Mark still planned on delivering. But Derek had worked with him for two years. Mark knew him. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Derek was desperately trying to balance something he’d done in his life with working with Mark, but he’d never, ever guessed that it would have had to do with his son.

But if Stiles wanted him? Well, that was something to worry about another time.

Mark had found out about the first camera after the security company had left.  They’d unearthed two others, and that was just in the living room. It had made his blood run cold. He frowned. It seemed like there should have been a way to trace the footage- or the email.. something to give them some kind of hint of who was doing this.

“Why do you ask?”  He took the few steps necessary, noting absently that Chris had righted his chair.

“It’s just that... well. We think we know who it is. We can’t be sure though. But if you could text Derek and just get us a name...” Allison broke off. “Don’t use your phone, though.”

Mark manfully resisted rolling his eyes at her obvious comment, choking down the ‘yeah, thanks kid’ that he was thinking from coming out of his mouth. “I’ll use another phone. What makes you think that Derek would know who he is?” His glance happened to fall on Chris’, whose lips twitched suspiciously at his daughter’s earnest advice.

Old bulls, indeed. Next, the two of them would be making whippersnapper comments.

“Oh. Just something Stiles said when I talked to him. If I’m right, then it’s the same person that we were contracted to get rid of a few years back.”

Chris frowned. “Which one?”

It was Mark’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Which one? You mean there’s enough that you have to think about... uh. Actually, nevermind. Don’t answer that.”  He was big enough to ignore the identical smirks of amusement on both Chris and Allison’s face.

“The Morel Pack.”

Mark watched as Allison nodded, her face tightening. He felt the stirrings of barely-remembered panic pounding through him. No. No, that couldn’t be right. Not again. Chris had started to turn away, that name apparently enough to send him on his way. Mark’s hand whipped out to grab the other man’s wrist before he quite realized what he was doing. When he spoke, his voice was breathy. He felt dizzy. Sick.

It was to Chris’ credit that he didn’t even seem fazed, his cool gaze flicking down to Mark’s grip on his wrist and back to his face in less than a heartbeat. “Mark.”

“The Morel Pack? That’s who.” He had to stop, sucking in breath, afraid his knees were going to collapse. He didn’t even have it in him to care that he had to look like such a weak prick in front of Chris. “Adrian Morel. Derek told me that it was Adrian Morel that almost killed Stiles.”

That had been bad enough. It had sent Mark into a panic that had kept him up for days straight, using caffeine and his own determination to stay awake to guard his son, terrified out of his mind for his safety.  No one had told him exactly why Stiles had been involved in... whatever it was that had gotten him a shot.  But that had hardly mattered. That wasn’t what had sent Mark back to the numbness offered from the whisky, the oblivion that allowed him to pretend at functioning while his only son slowly recovered from the gunshots that had almost killed him. It took him two tries to be able to speak through the huge blockage that threatened to choke him. “Adrian Morel. It’s  Adrian Morel who wants Stiles?”  

He barely saw the way the two hunters nodded, memories of holding his wife’s head in his lap, feeling her blood cool as it spread around them, overwhelming him for just a moment.  Mark was overly conscious of the feel of Chris’ pulse under his fingers, a calming, steady thud that did nothing to calm or steady him.

When he spoke, Mark could see that they already knew. He said it anyway.

“Morel ... that was the man who murdered my wife.”


****

Zoe was worried about her daddy.  She didn’t like how the place they were sleeping smelled. Even her daddy smelled funny. It made her nose itch. They had waited in this place for a really long time. Parts were okay though. There was a pool and a little playground, and they had been allowed to eat pizza. Daddy hardly ever allowed her pizza, but he’d been too sleepy to say much at what Derek ordered.  Zoe really hoped that she would get to see her Grandpa again, but when she asked, her daddy had looked so sad that she just hugged him.  

The other man, Derek, wasn’t much better.  Her daddy had yelled at him a few times, and Derek had slammed out of the room.  She didn’t like slamming doors. It was like thunder, only worse because it made her heart feel funny. Dora had been on three times before Derek came back with some clothes and a few toys.

Her daddy had made a weird sound in his throat when Derek had pulled the Princess Tiana doll out of the bag. Zoe had shrieked and grabbed it, hugging both Derek and her daddy in her happiness.

“Uh. Was that the right kind? There were ... a lot of dolls. That’s the one she likes, right? The one with the frog?”

Her daddy had sounded that way he sometimes did when she said something that made him want to laugh. “Yeah, Derek. That’s the right one, although the mental image of you in the kids' aisle at Target is probably going to make me laugh for the next hundred years.”

Zoe had been very happy. She had had to leave her other doll at her Grandpa’s house. Daddy said that Grandpa wouldn’t let anything happen to it, but she still wasn’t really thrilled at the idea of not having it with her.

Daddy made a sound in the back of his throat and turned over on his side.  He looked bad. Like that time, Harper had been hungover. Zoe didn’t know exactly what part of her hungover what (grown-ups talked really weird sometimes), but it had made her eyes red and her sweat smell icky, like stinky bread. Her breath had been really yucky.  Daddy didn’t smell like stinky bread, but he felt hot to the touch. Zoe crawled down off of the bed, taking special care to be very quiet. Her Princess Tiana doll trailed behind her as she walked as quietly as she could.

The room she and her daddy slept in opened to another bedroom. Oh boy, had her daddy and Derek yelled about that.  Zoe didn’t see what the big deal about a connecting door was. It was kind of neat, like opening up a gate to the Secret Garden. That was one of her favorite stories that her daddy had ever read her.  

She walked over to the other bed, then around to the other side when she saw Derek sprawled under the covers. She reached up to tug at the hand which had slipped off the mattress. Derek’s bed was too tall for her to get up onto. Plus, Zoe was pretty sure that her daddy wouldn’t much care for her jumping on Derek’s bed. (Although it looked especially soft and jumpable. The pillows especially.)

“Zoe?”

Zoe blinked up at Derek, who stared down at her, frowning.  Harper once told her that she was too smart for her own good. Her daddy had been really mad when Harper had asked him all the questions about who her other daddy was.

“For fuck’s sake! She’s only two!”

“Yeah, well, she’s the smartest ‘two’ that I’ve ever seen, Stiles. It’s obvious that whoever her father is- he’s a very powerful wolf.  Only children from an Alpha are known to develop that quickly. For Christ’s sake, Stiles. She was reading! Reading! Most two-year-olds are still trying to figure out how to talk at her age!”

Usually, when her daddy called her his smart cookie, Zoe would be happy. But this? It had made Zoe very sad. She’d never really thought about the fact that Peter from across the street had a mommy and a daddy, and Toni from Miz Ethel’s house had two daddies.  Zoe had wondered where her mommy was. Or her other daddy. If she had to pick for a mommy, she’d pick Harper. Harper was really nice. She let her come with her to work to play with the other little kids. She never yelled at her, and she made really good cookies. And she didn’t make her take naps.

Zoe hated naps.

She’d never really wanted another daddy, though. Why would she when her daddy was the bestest in the whole world?

“Zoe, is something wrong?” Derek’s voice was all rumbly. It was nice. It made her think of her warm fuzzy blanket at home.

“I think daddy is sick. He doesn’t smell good.” Zoe couldn’t help the way her lip trembled. She didn’t want to cry like a baby, but she really didn’t like it when her daddy was sick. Or sad. Or sickandsad. She sniffed, staring up at Derek as he swung his long legs over the edge of the bed. She felt him freeze as she flung herself at him, hugging his leg.

His hand felt nice against the back of her neck. It made her feel safe. “Let’s go see what’s the matter, okay?”

Zoe couldn’t help the little grin against the warm material of Derek’s sweatpants.  Derek patted the back of her head, and just for a second, she leaned into the touch.

“Let’s get you situated on the chair. You can have pillows and your own blanket, okay? Do you need anything else?”

“Can I have some juice?”

“Sure.”  She followed Derek into the living area. There was a big, comfy chair turned towards the television, and Zoe squealed a little when Derek swung her up and into it, giving her one of his pillows. It smelled like Derek and did a lot to make her not feel so scared.  The blanket smelled like her daddy, and for a few minutes, Zoe curled up in complete bliss, her eyes already feeling heavy.

Derek set some apple juice on the table near her and squatted down so he could look at her face when he talked. “Listen. Your daddy is sick, but he will get better. I need you to be a good girl, though, and try to go back to sleep. Can you do that?”

Zoe nodded sleepily. Her blinks were getting longer and longer. Derek curled two fingers over her temple before sliding them down over her cheek.

“You really are amazing.” Derek coughed a little. “Now, good night, Zoe.”

Zoe smiled a little. She knew that already. Her daddy told her that all the time. “G’night, Derek.” She yawned and curled further into her little nest.  She heard him walking back towards the bedroom.

No, she’d never really thought about having another daddy.

Not until very recently.


TBC!

Thanks to LinnetMelody for catching my typos :D And a huge thank you to aristablightnn, who so kindly pointed out that I used 'Stiles' instead of 'John' in the text convo with Harper. DUH. Sorry!!!

Chapter Text

This chapter has been a long time--- er.  Coming.  Thanks for your patience!
(Ba dum dum psh! I’ll be here all week; don’t forget to tip your waitress!)



The fire was like some colossal beast, devouring Stiles from inside out. His skin didn’t just itch. When he could think coherently, he thought it felt like dipping each body part in a pot of boiling water, with the skin collapsing from the inside out as the steam boiled his flesh alive.  

He had never felt like this in his life.

The first and only time his body had been in heat, it had been more like intense, extreme horniness. Stiles had wanted Derek so much that he couldn’t focus on whether he should or shouldn’t... He craved skin on skin. When he got it, he was lost in sensation; the taste of the sweat on Derek’s skin, the feel of Derek’s fingers kissing bruises into his hips, the slick slide of Derek thrusting into him, sending conscious thought flying off into every single direction at once.  

Stiles didn’t know what day it was. He didn’t remember eating or sleeping. He could only feel the flames of his heat licking from his nerve endings out, igniting his skin in sensation.  He vaguely remembered clinging to a bare remnant of control, asking Derek to take Zoe, ashamed that she might see him like this.  Was that five minutes? Five days ago? God might know. Stiles didn’t have any fucking idea.

When he was able to focus his thoughts, he was terrified at himself. What if Stiles blurted out that Derek was Zoe’s father? What freaked Stiles out, even more was the instinctual trust that he had for Derek. Stiles couldn’t understand how he could trust Derek to keep him and Zoe safe yet still hate him.

Well, dislike him. Stiles couldn’t say for certain that he actually hated Derek anymore. He couldn’t even classify the emotions that that little gem of a thought brought even if he could spare a small part of his brain for rational thought.

The air-conditioning kicked on, and Stiles jerked at the blast of cold air that shot out of the small wall unit. Even that felt too much for his over-sensitized body. He writhed on the bed, almost slipping off of the slippery sheets.  He bit his already swollen lip, letting his hand drift towards his cock, before jerking it away. No. No. He could do this. He wasn’t some fucking animal- slaving to instinct. He could control himself.

Only... he couldn’t.

The trouble was, Stiles knew that if he just gave in and did it, he’d have some relief. He desperately wished that he could just... it would only take...

He couldn’t make himself stop.  Stiles cried out at the hot splash of come on his fingers almost as soon as he closed his cool palm around the heat of his flesh. He felt his nipples harden as hundreds of shivers marched all over his body. Stiles arched, digging his feet into the mattress as he jerked up his hips, shoving two fingers inside of himself with a sharp twist of his wrist.  The wet squelch made his lip curl where his body had made itself ready for penetration, the gland releasing a slick, slippery fluid in preparation. The low groan seemed to vibrate in Stiles’ throat. He tasted blood when he bit his lip again, his eyes rolling back in his head when he started jerking himself off, his cock still flushed purple with need despite his release moments earlier. There was nothing like finesse in the desperate, frantic tightening of his fingers, the movement of his arm.

It didn’t take him very long to come this time either. If he didn’t feel so fucked up, he’d laugh at his pathetic staying power.

Stiles sagged onto the mattress with a pained whimper. The almost electrical current that seemed to be vibrating endlessly just under the surface of his skin dissipated slightly. He could catch his breath. Stiles wiped his sticky, shaking hand on the already filthy sheets. Stiles jumped at the sound of Derek’s ringtone. He sat up with a startled gasp, looking down at himself with a grossed-out twist of his lips. There was dried come all over his stomach, with itchy, flaky patches that pulled at his hair when he tried to scritch them off with his nail.   

“Fucking gross.” He stood up, wincing a little when the muscles in his thighs pulled a little from how widely he’d spread his legs.  He didn’t have a robe, so he wrapped the filthy sheet around his body. When Stiles stood up, he staggered dizzily. He fell against the small bedside table and swore under his breath at his clumsiness. Shit. Stiles almost lost the sheet when he flung out an arm to catch himself. He wrinkled his nose at the slickness on his fingers.  

When he opened the connecting door, Derek was seated in the chair by the bed, calmly reading a magazine.  Stiles didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared or the way Derek’s fingers tightened briefly on the pages of Knitting Weekly, but he appreciated the gesture. The attempt at normalcy.  The ringtone had been too loud for it to have been across the room like that. Derek had to have been really close to the connecting door. Stiles jerked the sheet tighter around himself, flushing when he felt his body react to Derek’s presence. He felt like a tree leaning towards the sun at the way his body craved being near Derek.  

“I’m just...” He broke off, staring at Zoe, who was passed out in a playpen. She hadn’t used her playpen since she was about a year old- having decided that she was fine with climbing out of it monkey-style.

“I just. I didn’t think you’d want her sleeping in the bed.” Derek’s voice was easily a half-octave lower than his normal register. The unspoken  With me seemed loud in the quiet room. “I bought a few things.” Derek turned a page in the magazine, still not looking up at Stiles.

Stiles darted a glance at the way he sat rigidly in the chair, then back to Zoe. “Thank you.” Stiles took a deep breath, winced when he smelled himself, and made his way to the shower.  To be honest, Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what he was thanking Derek for. For taking care of Zoe? For not jumping him? For trying to make this less awkward?

It was heaven to step under the hot, steamy water. Derek had also picked up some real soap, and Stiles pounced on it like a kitten with an aluminum ball, purring just about as loudly when he washed off the dried sweat and come that streaked his body. Jesus fucking Christ, that felt good. When his body had the predictable reaction, Stiles didn’t even waste time feeling guilty before wrapping his fingers around his dick again.

He couldn’t stop picturing Derek behind the door of his bedroom. Had he been listening? Stiles turned so that he was facing the tile behind the faucet, the hot water beating a tattoo on his neck. His breathing quickened as he started fisting himself a little faster, lost in his head. Derek would have pressed his forehead against the door, his werewolf hearing having no trouble picking up the sounds Stiles was making in the bedroom: the wet sound of him fingering himself, the slick sound of his hand on his cock, the low moans that he couldn’t seem to help as they tore from his throat.  Would Derek have been able to smell him? Would Derek have pressed his dick to the hard surface of the door, rubbing as he listened to Stiles come?

Stiles heard the muffled sound he made as his balls tightened again. He screwed his eyes shut, biting into his own forearm as he felt the orgasm begin at the base of his spine. Stiles shifted, so his leg was up on the leg of the tub, pressing his own overheated cheek to the cool tile as he teased himself by rubbing his finger over his slick hole, sending sparks shooting behind his closed eyelids as that pushed him over the knife’s edge of coming.

Stiles almost lost his balance as his knees threatened to collapse. He tilted his head back and got a face full of water, groaning as he shook his head.  What the fuck was that?! Besides stupid. Idiot. Thinking about Derek like that is only going to end badly.   

The thing was, Stiles wasn’t fully sure that this was going to work. He’d heard other unmated Omegas talk of some seriously uncomfortable hours spent locked up in a room somewhere while they fucked themselves to oblivion. Days. Stiles wasn’t sure if he could handle much more of this. He hated not knowing how his body was going to react. Loathed, not being able to control his body’s reactions.

Stiles soaped himself down again, resolutely keeping his touch hard and as unsexy as he could manage, almost painful with his frustration at his own stupid.... instinct. Derek had called it instinct. But that seemed too pat of a copout. The last time he had done this, he hadn’t been able to control himself. Sure, at the time, Stiles had thought that it was just because it was his first time and because he was with Derek, but he should have been able to know what was going on with his own body. He sighed, reaching for the shampoo bottle. The water faucet made a squeak when he turned it off, and Stiles stood there, dripping dry for a few seconds. Now that the water was off, he could hear voices outside.

What the hell?

There was no fucking way he was going back with that nasty sheet wrapped around him, so a towel would have to do. Stiles tied it tightly at his waist, lips tightening when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The towel sat just under his hipbones. He could see the almost perfect imprint of his teeth on his forearm, red and angry looking. There were raccoon circles under his eyes, but he could see that his brown gaze looked almost too aware of everything. Stiles cocked his head to the side, listening when he heard the low murmur of voices. Did Derek have the tv on too loud or something?

He opened the door and walked out into the main area of their room, only to freeze when he saw Isaac and Zoe playing together under Derek’s watchful eye.

Isaac!

Stiles couldn’t help the surprised sound he made as he started to walk forward, only to stop short as Isaac’s scent hit him like a punch to the gut.

His mouth actually watered. His brain might have been shrieking --what the fuck?!-- at him, but his body reacted without Stiles consciously deciding to move forward.  

He hadn’t seen Isaac in a year and a half. Isaac hadn’t been involved in the whole bet. He hadn’t even been at Derek’s house that day. It had been one of the only reasons that Stiles had let him in his house before he left for school. Isaac had gotten there just as Stiles was loading the last load into his jeep. If Isaac had been ten minutes later, they would have missed each other. If Isaac had had a tail, it would have been between his legs. He’d flinched at the look Stiles couldn’t quite hide, then had hugged him with a desperate whine in the back of his throat.  Isaac had told Stiles that it was all some kind of a mistake and he couldn’t leave because it would break all of them and please, please don’t go.

But Stiles had gone. He’d hated the stupid tears that he couldn’t choke back, known that Isaac would taste them or smell them or see them or whatever the fuck werewolves did. But he’d gone. The last glimpse of Isaac through his rear-view mirror had shown him just standing, staring forlornly after Stiles’ taillights with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking lost.

It had been late October when Isaac had met Stiles at school. The stubbornness probably shouldn’t have surprised him, but it had. Isaac had refused to leave until he bought Stiles a meal and had gotten him out of bed and dressed for the day. Stiles hadn’t really been in the mood to talk. He sure as fuck hadn’t been in the mood to reminisce. They’d had Tex-Mex, and Stiles had eaten hugely of everything, feeling human for the first time in forever. Well, until Zoe had made it known that she was not a huge fan of flautas, thank you very much, and had jumped up and down on his gut until he’d gotten sick.

Not that he’d known that at the time, of course. Still, he’d had his suspicions about who had clued Lydia into her sudden and dramatic rescue. Stiles had wondered about him every once in a while and had thought of Isaac with bittersweet fondness.

But that didn’t explain Stiles’ reaction now. His whole body lit up like fireworks in the night sky. Stiles knew that he should be shocked at this, but the rational part of his brain had shut down as he moved forward towards Isaac. Stiles saw the ridiculously curly hair bob a little when Isaac tossed up his head, scenting the air.

“Stiles? Wh--”

Stiles had him crowded against the door, his heart thumping in time with his cock before Isaac could finish speaking. Stiles heard a low growl and felt Derek behind him, and for a second, his whole body quivered at being pressed between the Beta and his Alpha, but no, wait, he wasn’t his Alpha only he could be, and he wanted him, but he wasn’t supposed to want--

“Stiles.”

Stiles felt the scrape of Derek’s teeth at the very top of his spine. It made him freeze for just a moment.  Stiles could smell Isaac though, could almost taste him if he just leaned forward a tiny... little... bit. The easily-ignored voice in the back of his head was pushing red buttons, shrieking at him with a bullhorn now, and Stiles came back to himself with a horrified gasp, throwing himself away from Isaac and into the solid bulk of Derek’s body.

What the actual fuck?!

Derek’s arm came around him to steady him. Stiles felt like it was the only thing anchoring him from falling apart. If Derek let go, he wasn’t completely certain that he wouldn’t just shatter into a million pieces.

“Isaac.”

There wasn’t anything angry in that one word, but Isaac pushed away from them, breathing harshly a few times before purposefully walking over to Zoe who had been, thankfully, completely oblivious to the whole little drama, playing with her Tiana doll and singing softly to herself.  

“Zoe is going with Isaac in a room next to ours. I’m going to get you settled in the bedroom; then I am going to join them. I won’t let anything happen to her, Stiles.”  Stiles let his head drop to Derek’s arm and trembled at the restrained strength there.

“Yeah. I’m good with kids. And we can.. er.. wait to have coffee later. I guess I didn’t realize how close you were to the whole... uh. Yeah, so I’m just. Going to shut up now? I promise this little princess will be fine, Stiles.” Isaac’s lips twisted slightly in an amused grin. “And for the sake of keeping my guts on the inside of my body, I’m going to forget the last two minutes of my life.”

Stiles just nodded, every single cell quivering with the need to not move. To not lean any further back into the solid, comforting heat of Derek’s body. To not rub his ass against Derek’s body like some sort of bitch in heat. The tiny part of his brain that was freaking out winced at his unfortunate comparison, but the rest of him? The rest was trying not to move.

Zoe tried to come over to hug her daddy bye, but Derek intercepted her, scooping her up and making her squeal, leaving Isaac to gather up her bag.  If Stiles hadn’t been so terrified of what he’d do if he moved, he would have felt jealous. As it was, he felt lucky that he had Derek and Isaac to help him. If he’d been alone with Zoe during this...

Jesus, fuck, that didn’t even bear thinking about.

Stiles didn’t know how long Derek, Isaac, and Zoe were gone. It took Derek touching him lightly on the back of the neck for Stiles to jolt, flailing a bit with shock. He didn’t remember sinking down to the floor and curling up. Stiles leaned into Derek again, not caring that the other man’s muscles tensed with dislike before he awkwardly patted Stiles on the shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to the room.”

Stiles blinked bleary eyes only to focus on Derek’s collarbone. He bent forward and licked at it, sucking on the skin for just a second before Derek gasped and pushed him off.  “You smell really, really good, Derek.” Stiles’ didn’t recognize his own voice. He sounded like his throat had given up on real speech and was content to just communicate with this low purr that he didn’t even think he’d made before. “I forgot... I made. Made myself forget.” Stiles was close enough to Derek that he could see the small breakout of goosebumps on his tanned skin from the puff of his words. Stiles curled into Derek, clutching at his shirt. He heard another hitch in Derek’s breathing and smiled.

“Believe me when I say that you really, really don’t want this. Get up. Come on; I’ll help you. Let’s get you in bed.”

Bed? Bed sounded good. Stiles stopped rubbing against where Derek knelt beside him, not even caring at the wet spot the precome left on the denim. He wanted. Oh, he wanted. Derek was supporting more than his fair share of Stiles’ weight when Stiles tripped over his dropped towel. Walking was a waste of time. Why walk when they could be fucking? The lick of heat was burning him up. He was ashes. Stiles was dying, and only Derek could make it go away.  The kiss was clumsy, but Stiles bit at Derek’s lip, pressing his naked body against Derek’s clothed one, his fingers tightening in Derek’s t-shirt.

He cried out when Derek’s hands closed over his hips, pulling them together and kissing back for one perfect heartbeat before ripping his body away from Stiles and practically frog-marching him into the bedroom. Stiles fell on the bed, and Derek backed away, looking like it was torture to take the second step back.

“Stiles. Just... trust me. You really don’t want me here.”

That was stupid. Of course, he did. Stiles flipped over on the bed; the sheets cool against his sweaty skin; he moaned at the feeling of his cheeks sliding together from his own slickness, bending over so Derek could just fuck him. Just slide into him and make this... make him real again. He knew his ass was on display. And why shouldn’t it be?

He heard a groan, a muffled ‘fuck’ from across the room, but Derek was still too ... far...away! Why was Derek staying all the way over there?  Stiles turned so he could see Derek from over his shoulder.  Derek’s eyes were wide. His adam’s apple bobbed twice before turning away, reaching into a brown paper sack. “I. I know.” His voice was much higher than normal. If Stiles hadn’t been so far gone, he would have called it a squeak.  Derek cleared his throat. “I know it’s not the best idea, but you’ll be better off with this instead of me.” Derek tossed the back onto the bed, taking another step back, but slowly.

The toy slid out of the bag, and Stiles pounced on it, licking at his chapped lips as he turned back to face the headboard.  It had a few bumps on the plastic that made Stiles cry out as he slid it inside of him. His face landed on the bed with a muffled cry of Derek’s name. But his balance was off. He couldn’t get the angle he wanted with the way his legs were trembling against the mattress. Stiles turned onto his side, but he could tell that his hand on his cock wasn’t going to be enough. He needed Derek. Stiles made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and moved his legs apart, wiggling the toy back inside of him, trying to rock back at the same time. His whole body shuddered, but he didn’t come. It was starting to hurt now. He could just tell that his skin was practically vibrating, almost too sensitive. Stiles bit his lip, still working the toy inside of him. He heard the sounds he made when it bumped over his prostate...

But it wasn’t enough.

Stiles was only aware that he’d covered his face with his arm when he heard Derek beside him, shushing him, wiping the frustrated tears off of his face. Stiles hadn’t even been aware that he’d been crying.  

Stiles moaned when Derek bent him back over, crying out sharply when Derek gently pushed away Stiles’ hands, pushing at his shoulders, so he was bent over properly. One of Derek’s hands tightened over Stiles’ cock as the toy slid inside of him, deeper and oh. Ohhh.  Stiles moaned, his muscles relaxing as Derek curled around him, finding the perfect angle inside of his body that made him quake with sensation. Stiles reached down to tangle his fingers with Derek’s, moving steadily on his cock. Derek bit his shoulder, and Stiles came, surprising himself. Derek shifted behind him, and Stiles felt one of Derek’s fingers slide down from his cock, bump over his balls, then inside of him next to the toy.

Stiles heard Derek’s “Sorry, sorry” before the finger was removed, then Derek’s hand slid down a little lower to press against his perineum, while the toy hit his prostate at the same time.  

Stiles felt his eyes roll back in his head as he came again. He wasn’t even sure what he was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Derek twisted the toy inside of him, and Stiles jerked again, his limbs not under his own control anymore.

He couldn’t have said how many times Derek made him come.  There wasn’t any way of him keeping track of how well Derek worked over his body. Only with his fingers and the plastic toy, though. Stiles knew he’d begged for Derek to fuck him, to just shove his cock inside of him until his voice was hoarse. But Derek had refused, then had ignored him, although Stiles was sure that a few times he had felt the rough denim of Derek’s jeans as Derek thrust against him, like he couldn’t help it, only to jerk away with a muffled apology.  Derek didn’t even kiss him. Just the one bite on the shoulder, but that too hadn’t been quite what Stiles needed. He wanted his whole body covered in Derek’s scent. In his marks and in bruises from Derek mating with him.

Stiles came to once in the tub, the warm water almost sloshing out over the edge as Derek knelt next to him, carefully tilting back his head so that he could get the shampoo off his hair without getting it in Stiles’ eyes.  Stiles brought his hand up to grip Derek’s wrist, his eyes wide and confused.

“It’s okay, Stiles. I’m just getting you cleaned up. It’s almost over now, just relax for me, okay? I’ve got you.”

And that made absolute perfect sense. Stiles was stubborn, though. He wanted to watch Derek taking care of him because even then, he knew that this was just pretend. That this wasn’t really how his life went. His blinks became longer and longer as he watched Derek wash him, carefully soaping every inch of his body until Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

He was aware of being carried, which was ridiculous because this was a dream. It had to be a dream. Maybe he was flying. But he didn’t think so. His dream smelled like Derek and was warm and keeping him close.  Stiles heard a grumpy, discontented sound when he was set onto something uncomfortable that wasn’t Derek, then the low sound of someone chuckling. The Derek-dream even spoke to him. Something about just a minute and stripping a bed. Whatever.  The Derek-dream was pretty fucking annoying, actually. It made him drink something that tasted disgusting. But it was cold, and oh god, he was so, so thirsty, so he didn’t complain too much. Well, okay, maybe just a little. He hated orange Gatorade. If this was his dream, then his brain should know that, okay? Dream-Derek made a weird sound, and Stiles felt something soft brush against his forehead before he was flying again, this time only to land on something soft and cool.

Dream-Derek was brilliant. Stiles stretched on the bed, burrowing under clean sheets and the bedspread. His body was a little cold now from the air-conditioning and from Derek not being flush against him anymore. He frowned into his pillow. Why wasn’t Derek here? Derek should be here.  But before he could chase the thought down or open his mouth and ask the question, Stiles drifted off to sleep.

****

Stiles woke with a gasp. He could tell that his body was mostly over the insanity; he felt like Stiles again. He could feel his cheeks heating at how stupid he’d acted but also knew that Derek wouldn’t hold it against him.

He bit his lip, wincing a little when he remembered how Derek had done everything to help him through his heat in a way that Stiles wouldn’t hate him for later. It had been more than Stiles had ever expected of him. Stiles waited for the familiar anger and hate to flood him as it had done every single time he’d let himself think of Derek since ...

... since Derek had hurt him to keep him safe.

Shit. That was the long and short of it. Stiles flipped over onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. Scott and Derek had done something really, completely, and utterly stupid to keep Stiles from flinging himself into whatever half-assed plan sparked through his brain at the time.

Now? Now Stiles could admit to how many times he had hurt himself or caused the pack more trouble when he’d gone running hell-bent for leather into some kind of werewolf political bullshit.  Now it was easier to look back and acknowledge that perhaps.... some of his plans hadn’t been quite as brilliant as he’d thought. Now Stiles could see that the younger version of himself had been so busy trying to prove that the fragile little human wasn’t some kind of liability... that he’d become a complete and utter liability. He’d put the pack in danger.

That didn’t mean that Derek, and to some extent Scott, weren’t completely blameless. That it was just okay that Scott could trick him like that. They had been best friends. Scott had known everything there was to know about Stiles, and Stiles had known everything there was to know about Scott- from the time Scott had laughed so hard in Mrs. Kemprett’s class that he’d wet his pants, to the right after his mom’s death how Stiles had been afraid that if he went to bed before his dad, his dad wouldn’t be there when he woke up either. Scott hadn’t ever said anything when Stile had shown up at his house unannounced, too freaked out by his nightmares. Mrs. McCall had even started keeping a sleeping bag and toothbrush ready for him.

It made a sick sort of sense that Scott would manipulate exactly what would make Stiles hurt the most; know exactly what to say to send him running for the hills.  And the fucking pisser of it all was that they’d both been right, hadn’t they? Stiles’ big idea- his perfect plan was to distract the guy while the pack took care of business. The guy that he’d made out with- what. For maybe thirty seconds? Two years ago? A little over two years ago? The fucking crazy bastard had been psychotic enough to fucking stalk him and his baby, to fuck up his suppression meds and herd him back towards Beacon Hills like a wayward calf towards slaughter. Why though. What was so special about him that rated this craziness? Cameras in his house? Some kind of Jason Bourne scope rifle shit on his daughter’s head?

Yeah, it was possible that Stiles hadn’t thought the repercussions all the way through. Hell, at the time, he hadn’t ever dreamed that there would even be repercussions of his actions. He was just the smart one, the awesome Stilinski making more plans that had to be just as brilliant as he was.

Stiles flipped over on the bed, his mind drifting back to Derek and how careful he’d been with him.  That had certainly changed from two years ago. Even when the two of them had been dating- Derek had been... well. Not particularly warm and fuzzy. Derek wasn’t a cuddler. It had been a lot like two guys just hanging out together who happened to kiss. A lot. Derek had (and again, maybe it was the hours and hours of mindless coming that had finally set his head straight, cuz Stiles sure as fuck wouldn’t have thought of this even a few days ago) been like a different person.

Stiles sat up, sliding out of bed. The air was too cold. He bent over and turned down the thermostat, shivering at the coolness of the air. Somehow he thought his body would hurt more after being in heat. Of course, Derek hadn’t really fucked him. So maybe that was why. Last time he had been able to feel that Derek had been there, to remember him with every time Stiles had moved too quickly or stretched too far. At the time, he had hated it. Now though? Now he missed it.

He looked down at himself, laughing a little to see that he was wearing boxers. All at once, he remembered how he’d been so out of control that he’d actually pushed Isaac up against the wall, caught up in the scent and the heat of him. Isaac was Derek’s pack. Derek had called...

Stiles’ eyes widened.

He had told Derek that he didn’t want to see any of the pack. Any of the people who had hurt him, no matter how small their role had been. So Derek? Derek had called Isaac, the one person who had been close enough to Stiles not to cause him any pain. Isaac was the only one who had driven the few hours necessary to come and check up on him while Stiles had been at school.

The thing was, Derek was a shitty Alpha. Or at least he had been. Stiles didn’t know anything about the pack nowadays to really make that judgment. But back then? Derek hadn’t a clue about what he was doing. He’d been with Ethel long enough to know how a pack was supposed to function and what Derek had done? Not healthy. Not good for any of them. Fragile as a house of cards, ready to blow down at the slightest disturbance. The arrogance and the strong-arming- Derk had done a lot with a bunch of quasi-fucked up teenagers. Because they were quasi-fucked up teenagers. But he hadn’t been shown what to do. It wasn’t like he’d taken Alpha lessons from his parents- or if he had, he’d been too young to really understand how to keep people together.  Now he could see that Derek hadn’t had a clue at what he was doing- but was trying to do it anyway.

Stiles ran his hand over his face.  

The closed door looked less like a barrier to keep him out and more like a barrier to keep him safe. Derek had all but told him that he was afraid of how Stiles would react once his heat had worn off. But he had helped him anyway.

Stiles took a step forward and bit his lip. Did he want to do this? Did he really? Did he mean that he forgave Derek?

No.

Hell no. Stiles wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forgive that. Yeah, extenuating circumstances, heart in the right place, blah blah.. but the fact remained that Stiles had trusted Derek. That he’d trusted his Scott, his best friend, to always have his back. But that didn’t change the fact that right now? This minute right here? Stiles wanted. He wanted Derek to take him out of his head and make him feel safe.

Stiles heaved a sigh.  Shit. The fact was- this wasn’t something that he could figure out in one night. There was rather a lot going on at the moment. Disappearing off the grid was... it had been necessary. Talk about bad timing. If he had been anyone else, Stiles would have laughed at himself. Stiles took another few steps towards the closed door, resting just the tips of his fingers against the wood.

Was Derek over there? Was he sleeping or reading? Watching television or... was he with Isaac and Zoe? Stiles shivered, rested his forehead against the cool surface.

He supposed there was only one way to find out.



TBC!

(yes, a bit of a cliffie. But I did warn you. :) )

Chapter Text

Stiles took a deep breath before opening the door. It swung open on silent hinges, and Stiles could clearly see Derek sprawled out on the bed. That was kind of weird. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Derek sprawl before. Lurk, yes. Sprawl... no. Stiles took another hesitant step forward, biting his lips against the smirk that threatened as he stared where Derek clutched one pillow to his chest. He looked like a giant X spread out from one end of the bed to the other.

Stiles had never seen Derek sleep.

It was kind of hilarious. Derek had left the computer on, and the screensaver illuminated the room just enough that Stiles could see that Derek had his mouth open just a tiny bit, breathing heavily enough with what most people would definitely call a snore. Stiles would. In fact, Stiles would just go all out and say he sounded ridiculous with the deep inhalation and the high-pitched, cartoonish squeak of a snuffle that came out of his nose.

Big Bad Wolf, indeed.

Stiles took another step forward, looking unabashedly at Derek’s nearly naked form.  Stiles couldn’t tell if the Alpha was wearing underwear or not, but from what he could see if he was, they must have ridden pretty low during snoozing sprawl. Derek had kicked off the blankets and was saved from complete nudity from the sheet, half of which had tangled around one of his legs, and half had already fallen to the floor.

Stiles had a brief moment of trepidation- why was he doing this? Did he want to do this? Was this a good idea? then quickly answered himself-- because he didn’t want to sleep alone, yes, probably not, but he’d already survived the worst Derek could do, so why not-- before taking a deep breath and kneeling on the corner of the bed. Slowly though, so Derek wouldn’t wake up. Stiles didn’t exactly have a lot of experience at this. Should he just kneel on the carpet and lean over the bed, or should he try to curl up around Derek and just go for it?

Would Derek even want him to?

Stiles wrinkled his nose. Maybe he was thinking too much about this. His head (both of them) told him to just go for it. His heart-- well. He wasn’t currently paying attention to his heart, so it was a moot point. Stiles continued to move slowly, bending so that he could press his cheek against the one hipbone not covered by the sheet. Stiles wasn’t hairy enough to need a shave- although when compared to Derek, very few men were, he supposed. Still, he liked the difference of the textures of his stubble against the soft skin of Derek’s hip. Derek smelled amazing. Stiles thought it had just been his heat that kept Derek’s scent on the back of his tongue, but... no. Stiles breathed deeply. He could smell soap and skin and only realized his mouth was watering when he licked his lips.

Stiles slowly peeled the sheet away, his breath catching.

Other than his own, Stiles really hadn’t seen a lot of dicks soft like this before. In porn, they were always hard, and in the locker room, he hadn’t really spent a lot of time checking his teammates out. Okay. Maybe once or twice. Five times. But the point was... dicks.  Derek’s dick in particular. Stiles couldn’t help the curiosity as he stared, licking his dry lips.

Stiles reached out, then paused, darting his gaze up to Derek’s face.

Derek was staring at him from half-lowered eyelids.

Stiles reared back, jumping a little when Derek’s hand shot out to close around his forearm.

“Are you okay?” Derek’s voice was rough with sleep. “Stiles. What’s...” Stiles watched as concern replaced the sleep-stupid look on Derek’s face. He started to sit up, and Stiles shook his head, just knowing that he was blushing.

How the fuck could he blush after the events of the past two? Three? Whatever days was one of the biggest mysteries of the goddamn universe.

“No. I mean, yes.  I’m fine. I was just...” Oh hell. Forget about it. He could go jerk off in peace.

Derek let go of him at once, as though he just realized that he was still clutching onto Stiles.  To Stiles’ surprise, he lay back down on the bed, stretching just slightly out so that he was mostly in his original position.

“Have at it.”

Which, really, given Stiles’ current position was about the sexual equivalent of ringing the dinner bell.

Stiles reached out one finger to trace the curve of Derek’s cock, starting right under the base and all the way down, using just the smallest, almost not-there touch he could. Stiles bit his lip, touching the springy pubic hair, tugging a little just to be a brat. Derek made a weird sound, kind of a growly, pleased chuff of sound, and Stiles couldn’t help a tiny smirk. Stiles repeated the action, stroking a little harder. He bit his own lip when Derek’s cock twitched again, surprised at the flood of saliva that the sight produced. Stiles had always attributed his reaction to Derek’s body as part of his heat. But he wasn’t in heat now, and Derek still made his mouth water.

He risked a quick glance up at Derek’s face, double-checking that Derek wasn’t doing one of the frowny faces of doom. With his chin resting lightly on Derek’s thigh, Stiles bent over him, breathing a little heavier. He pursed his lips, trying to see if Derek would react with just him breathing on him, and was rewarded with a heavier twitch. Stiles grinned, delighted at himself.

Which was probably stupid. His technique wasn’t going to go down in the annals of blowjob history as anything spectacular.  

Probably. But hey. Stiles had always kind of prided himself on being a quick study.

Stiles shuffled down a bit, balancing himself over Derek’s leg, and slowly guided Derek’s cock to his mouth. He couldn’t help the way he moaned a little at feeling Derek vulnerable and soft inside of him. Stiles moved his lips a little closer to the base, flicking his tongue around as best he could. Derek almost seemed to freeze, and all of a sudden, it was a lot harder to fit Derek’s cock into the wet heat of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles tilted his head a little to meet Derek’s gaze, the weird grey-green sharp and intense as Derek stared back, his eyes wide.

Stiles felt his own dick go semi-hard and shifted slightly on the bed to pull his mouth off of Derek’s cock. Stiles licked his lips again and bent back down, taking more and sucking this time. He wrapped one hand around the base, the other reaching down to trail lightly over Derek’s balls. Stiles didn’t know if he’d like that or not, but given that Derek wasn’t exactly shy-- about anything-- Stiles figured that if he had a problem with it, Derek would let him know.

Derek made a small sound in the back of his throat and shifted slightly, opening his legs a little wider so that Stiles could shuffle into a better position. Stiles had started to lap at the crown when Derek made a shocked sound and jackknifed up, the palms of his hands resting on Stiles’ cheeks, pulling him off of his dick.

Stiles shut his mouth with a small ‘pop,’ feeling awkward.

“Why are you doing this?”  Derek stared down at him. He’d gone from blissed to concern in just a few moments, as though he’d just now thought of something important.

Stiles blinked, his eyebrows furrowing.  He tried to move his head out of Derek’s grip, but Derek just tightened his fingers reflexively. Derek looked upset. His thumbs traced tiny circles over the skin under Stiles’ eyes.

“I mean. I mean, you’re not... it’s not because you think that...” Derek huffed out a frustrated breath.

Somehow that made Stiles feel less like he’d fucked up, less like he was in some weird alternate universe. Derek still couldn’t seem to express himself emotionally.  Nice to know that some things didn’t change.

“You know that you don’t owe me anything, right?”

“Owe--?” It clicked. “Oh.” Derek thought that Stiles was trying to use sex to pay him back for giving a helping hand (so to speak) during Stiles’ heat. Stiles very deliberately removed Derek’s hands from his cheeks, forcing eye contact, ignoring the little spurt of feeling that lept at seeing the almost wrecked look on Derek’s features, before Derek composed his face until his normal aloof stare.  “Derek, I’m here because I want to be here,” Stiles smirked. “But, since we’re on the subject, thank you for your help earlier. You were quite the gentleman. Now lay back down so I can suck your dick, okay? There’s a bit of a learning curve to this.”

Derek leaned back so fast that Stiles bounced a little on the mattress. He hid his smile against Derek’s thigh and leaned back down, feeling much more confident as Derek let him explore. He licked and sucked, teased and stroked. Through it, all Derek would huff out these little breaths that made Stiles even more determined to draw out another moan.

Stiles liked those. They made him feel ... powerful.  Stiles chanced a glance up at Derek’s face, only to see that the other man was frozen in place, watching Stiles suck him with a fierce look on his face like he didn’t want to look away, even for a second.

“You’ve never done this before.”

Stiles shook his head, trailing his tongue back up the shaft, sucking lightly on just the head of Derek’s cock.  The precome was bitter on the back of his tongue. The taste wasn’t probably one of Stiles’ top ten favorites, but it certainly wasn’t the worst thing he’d put in his mouth. And the way Derek’s cock kind of drooled out a little spurt when Stiles felt a particularly sensitive spot was worth it- like some weird kind of positive reinforcement.  

Stiles pulled off of Derek’s dick with another wet sounding pop and tilted his head, looking up at him with nervous butterflies doing aerial maneuvers in his stomach. He blurted out the words before he could stop himself: before it clicked that Derek didn’t sound critical at all. In fact, the words Derek had spoken had been strained-- as though Derek had been incredulous at his luck.

“You were right about me gagging for it.”  Stiles saw the flash of shocked hurt on Derek’s face when the familiar words registered.

“... And you did, didn’t you? Fucking gagging for my cock. Although we didn’t get to that, I guess.”  Stiles winced, trying to ignore the weird feeling of guilt he felt at throwing Derek’s words back in his face after all this time. He bent again, tightening his fingers around the base of Derek’s cock, moving it so that he could go down on him again.

“Stiles, wait.”

Derek shifted, pulling Stiles up his body and then turning so that they were lying on their sides, facing each other.  Stupid. So stupid- why did you have to say that? It doesn’t matter. Not true. It did matter. Stiles had always been crap at lying-- even to himself. Although, it did look like he was making major inroads in existing in a truly spectacular amount of denial. Now, this is gonna just be all sorts of awkward.  Stiles gave a mournful look at Derek’s cock. So much for mutual orgasms.

“Look. I.” But Derek stopped talking, staring at Stiles in the muted light of the room instead. Slowly he traced one finger over Stiles swollen lips, and Stiles couldn’t hide the shiver that broke across his body at the light sensation. “I wasn’t going to put this on you yet. No, that’s not true. I’ve been...” Derek stopped again, moving his finger slowly down Stiles’ chin and over his jawline. “I’ve been a coward. I should have said this the second I saw you back on the East coast, but I.” Derek took a deep breath.

Stiles felt himself tensing, a prelude to moving back out of bed. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear what Derek had to say. Sure, Derek had been somewhat less emotionally constipated lately, but that didn’t mean that Stiles wanted some big Oprah confession.  Derek moved so that their foreheads were touching. Stiles jumped, shocked. Somehow, that seemed more intimate than what they had just been doing.  

Derek cleared his throat, visibly steeling himself. “Stiles. I’m so fucking sorry.” Stiles just blinked at him. “I don’t even know a word that covers how sorry I am. I know you’re just here because I practically made you, and god, I wish that I could go back and change things. But I can’t.” Derek pulled away, shaking his head. “I can’t even decide if you’re really here or if I’m dreaming.”

Stiles blinked, Derek’s words swimming in his head. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Reached up to itch his nose. Stiles took another deep breath.  “So, did you think that telling me this now was more or less likely to make me sleep with you?”  Stiles was glad to feel a small stirring of anger. It was nice to feel something else besides complete and utter confusion.

Derek jerked as he’d just taken a punch. “I.”

“Okay, answer this.” Stiles railroaded over him, not entirely sure which answer would be worse to hear. “The bet? I get that. It was a good way to make me leave. Well. No, not a good way. But it got me out of Beacon Hills.”  Derek had rolled off the bed like a shot. Stiles could see how uncomfortable he was and took a fierce sort of pleasure in it. He sat up on the bed, curling his legs up so that he could wrap his arms around them.  “What I don’t get... what really, really makes me hate you--” There was that flinch again. Stiles ignored the clunch in his gut that Derek’s reaction produced. He didn’t have any interest in examining his own feelings right now. “-- is that... why did you fuck me? You guys could have had the bet, won the bet, whatever without that. But you... you dated me, Derek.”  Stiles frowned down at his knees, hating the way his voice had gone soft at the end. He coughed. “That’s what. I mean, you guys did a helluva job. I never ever would have believed anyone if they had told me you were really that cruel. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I got my feelings all over you.” Stiles looked up at Derek from under his lashes. Derek was standing in the dark, about a foot away from the bed. There was just enough light for Stiles to see that Derek was staring straight down at the floor.

Stiles wasn’t sure what possessed him to get up and walk over to Derek. There was a small lamp near the bed that he turned on, and Derek blinked at him for a second before actually taking a step back. He couldn’t see as well in the dark as Derek and had the feeling that this conversation was one that he didn’t want to miss.  

Stiles was fascinated at the way Derek clenched his fists, the tendons and muscles in his arms twitching at the obvious signs of anger. Was ... why would Derek be angry?  Stiles frowned, taking another step forward. “Why did you fuck me, Derek?” He repeated the question, wanting to see what reactions his words would have on Derek. “I mean, you could obviously resist whatever pheromones my heat produced. So it wasn’t like you had to fuck me.” Figures. His half-human heritage gave him some resistance to the usual werewolf bullshit... but not to all of it.

“Would you stop saying that?” The growl was low. Pissed.

“Saying what? Fuck me? Derek, do you get that you... That it wasn’t like some isolated incident. You dated me. I was completely stupid over you and then...”

The growl broke out, low and causing something in Stiles's gut to flutter.  Stiles was pressed against the wall, bracketed in by Derek’s arms before he could even blink. The faint light from the lamp didn’t make it all the way across the room. It caused Stiles’ head to thunk against the wall once before Stiles reacted- grabbing onto Derek’s wrists, squeezing tightly. Derek stood there with his hands braced against the wall- staring at Stiles with barely controlled--- hurt?

Wait. What the fuck?

“He told me that you were fucking.”

Stiles froze, staring up at Derek from only a few inches. The last time they’d been together, Derek had been taller. It was a weird thing to realize, but it really clicked that Stiles wasn’t the same kid he’d been the last time they’d been this close.  “He. What?”

“Morel told me.” Derek dipped his neck slightly, breathing in Stiles’ scent. The slight, whisper-soft brush of lips under his ear caused Stiles to shudder. “He told me that you got a kick out of going from one of us to the other. An experiment before you went off to college.”

Something dark pooled low in Stiles’ gut. Derek must have sensed it because he leaned in and brushed his lips even more deliberately over Stiles’ neck. Stiles knew what he was doing. He was waiting for Stiles to acknowledge Derek’s claim over him, for Stiles to bare his throat.

Well, he could just fucking wait until there were snow angels in hell.

“You. You thought... what?”  Stiles could barely get the words out through the red haze of fury. “How the. How could? What?!”

“I didn’t! Not until you came over that last time. And you were so fucking wet. Already open. You wanted me so much, Stiles. And every fucking thing he’d ever said hit me. About how he’d tasted you first. How he’d seen what you look like taking his cock.” Derek bit the words out so quickly that watching his mouth in the faint light left Stiles wondering how he wasn’t biting his tongue.

“I think that you may actually be the stupidest motherfucking being on the planet.”

Derek just laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound.  “Yeah. I figured that out about two seconds after you lef--mmph!’

Stiles jerked Derek forward, kissing him so hard that their teeth clicked together, cutting into his gums. Stiles didn’t even hesitate, jerking Derek’s head where he wanted it and aligning their lips so that the kiss was slightly less painful but no less forceful. Stiles kissed him like he was punishing him, only realizing that his nails were buried in Derek’s wrists when he was able to force himself to let go, before pushing Derek away from him with one hard strike of his hands to Derek’s naked chest.

Derek actually staggered, which was rather satisfying. While he was off-balance, Stiles used Derek’s momentum to push him down, falling over him so that Derek landed on the carpet with a grunt, Stiles landing on top of him barely a half a second later.

“You idiot. You would have been able to smell him on me.”  Stiles slapped at Derek’s hands when they came down onto Stiles's shoulders, pulling them up over Derek’s head with a nasty smile. “You did. You.. you put me through that because you were jealous? What the fuck, Derek? You do actually know how to use those wolfy senses that you’re so proud of, right?” Stiles bent to kiss him again and was shocked at the way Derek went completely passive for just an instant before kissing him back, meeting him halfway, arching up against his neck so that he could get at Stiles’ mouth. Stiles let his fingers tangle into Derek’s hair and tugged, wanting to see how far Derek would let him take this.

Derek ripped his lips away, sucking in a deep breath.  “I couldn’t. All I could smell was you. Even when you were calling my name, all I could think was that you’d called his--oh Christ.”

Stiles smirked down at Derek, rolling their hips together again.  He’d never been on top like this before. Having Derek spread out under him was something that Stiles was seriously going to have to reconsider. Derek thrust up against him, and it was Stiles’ turn to make a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Derek broke the grip Stiles had on his wrists, bringing his hands up to cup Stiles’ hips, moving him that slight half-inch necessary so that they lined up perfectly.

He blinked down at Derek, pleasure sparking behind his dark eyes. Stiles heard someone moaning rather high-pitched and desperate and was terribly afraid it was him. Stiles was still wearing his underwear, and the slight friction from the cotton was just on this side of too much.  The heat of their cocks was addictive, and Stiles just wanted more. Derek leaned up to kiss him again, his fingers tightening. When he rolled his hips even harder, Stiles bit his lip to keep in the moan.

Stiles did it again, blurting out what he was thinking before he thought of what he was saying.  

“That’s some fucking irony considering that I’ve never. --- oh. Yeah, right there, nnggh, Derek.”

“You never...?” Derek did something illegal with his hips, and Stiles gasped, close. So fucking close he was going to-- any second one more thrust of his hips and he was

“I’ve never even had sex with anyone else!”

Derek froze underneath him.

Clarity came seconds after Stiles heard what he said, and he tensed, screwing his eyes shut. Like that was going to help. Like he could just wish his words away.

Derek’s hands tightened painfully on Stiles's hips- so tightly that Stiles winced-  before he very, very carefully released his grip.  “You’ve never had sex with anyone else.”  Stiles winced again at the absolute blankness in Derek’s words.

In a sudden flurry of motion, Stiles shifted off of Derek’s lap and stood up. He swallowed hard as Derek mimicked his movements, standing up in front of Stiles. He seemed completely at ease with his body, with the fact that his cock was still hard and wet with precome. Stiles’ own skin felt like it was a size too small. He was overly aware that he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands.

“You were in heat two years ago.” Derek’s voice was so calm that he could have been commenting on the weather.  

“Yes.” Stiles jutted his chin out, refusing to be cowed.  He hadn’t ever intended to tell Derek anything about Zoe, but that didn’t mean that he was going to just crumple like some romance-novel maiden. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You.. you were pregnant.”

“Yes.” Stiles took a step to the left of Derek, carefully keeping out of Derek’s arm-reach. He’d made it another step before he mentally shrugged.  “And just so everything’s perfectly clear, yes. Zoe is...” Stiles literally could not force himself to say the words ‘yours’ when they were so adamantly untrue. Zoe was not, and never would be Derek’s. Zoe was his. He was Zoe’s. They belonged to each other. He took another two steps, stopping at the connecting door. “Zoe is your daughter. Biologically. Congratulations.” Stiles couldn’t help the way his voice wavered a little on the last syllable.

Stiles’ ears might not have been as good as Derek’s, but he had no trouble hearing Derek’s rough whisper.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles turned in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. Derek was still standing there, staring after Stiles with something on his face, some emotion that Stiles had never seen before.

Stiles wanted to laugh, but nothing in his life had ever before seemed less humorous.  “Why would I, Derek? You’re the one that told me to leave.”

The door between them shut with a soft, final-sounding click.


******

Stiles stared down at his phone with a small frown.

The next day hadn’t been as awkward as he had feared. After closing the connecting door, Stiles had gotten dressed with lightning speed. He’d thought that he’d heard Derek just on the other side of the door but had ignored him, straining his ears for the sound of footsteps on the carpet.

Stiles knew that he couldn’t just leave, not without Derek just following him, so his other option had been just lying here in his room and hiding. Stiles had stared up at his ceiling, waiting for the sun to come up, almost vibrating with impatience at the wait. Now that his heat was over, he just wanted Zoe. He didn’t have Isaac’s number, but Stiles didn’t think it would be too difficult to work out where he and Zoe were staying.

Stiles hadn’t questioned the way Isaac had clearly known that he was coming over. The text had just been a room number, but Stiles had known who it was the second his phone had chirped.

Zoe had been ecstatic at seeing her daddy, and Stiles winced when he worked out that he’d left her with Isaac for at least forty hours- and had practically ignored her for the day and a half prior to that.  Zoe had seemed to feel the same and had hardly allowed him out of her sight, going so far as to follow him to the bathroom.

She hadn’t been particularly pleased with the “no honey” or at the way that Stiles had simply closed the door on her and had buried her little face in his shins at his return, hugging him tightly.

Derek had been conspicuously absent.

Stiles frowned down at his phone again, willing it to text him back.  He didn’t exactly know where Derek and Isaac were. When his phone did finally go off, Stiles jumped. Zoe gave him a weird look and frowned up over the edge of her book. Stiles was pretty sure that she wasn’t actually reading all of the words, but watching her lips move as she frowned down at the antics of Mr. Toad and Mole, Stiles couldn’t be entirely sure.

Isaac:
    -- holy shit dude, you could have warned me.

Stiles glared down at the phone. Before he could text back, it chirped again.

Isaac:
    -- But hell, if I’m able to feel sorry for him. He fucked this up pretty much as perfectly as if he had planned it out in advance. Your kid is adorable, by the way.

Stiles:
    -- Is Derek okay?

Fuck. What had made him ask that?

Isaac:
    --Funny. He just asked me the same thing about you. After he decapitates the batshit insane werewolf, you two probably need to sit down and talk.

Stiles stared down at the phone, surprised at the jolt of pure rage that flooded through him at the idea that Derek would even dream of going after Morel without Stiles there.

Stiles:

--Derek, I swear to god if you go after him without me, I will kill you myself.

    --Derek.

--I mean it!

-- What’s the plan, Derek?   No way are you going to leave me out again, man.

Derek:
    --No. Pack meeting. Strategy session. Be back in 20.

That hit him like a punch to the face. Stiles felt his insides actually quiver with something that he’d never admit was panic. Derek here would be awkward enough. But Scott? Seeing Boyd and Erica?

Stiles bit his lip, looking around the small living area of the suite. He’d been pretty much okay with the cabin fever brought on by staying still in one place for so long. He wasn’t an idiot. Stiles knew that it was important that he stay put so that Morel wouldn’t find him and Zoe. But now, he could almost feel the nervous energy sparking under his skin. He stood up and set his phone on the small table near the chair.

“Hey, baby girl. Do you want to go with Daddy on a little trip?”

Zoe looked up at him briefly, then back down to the book with almost comically obvious indecision.

Stiles’ lips twitched. As so often happened with his daughter, he found himself both helplessly amused and struck with a tangible spurt of love.  “You can take your book. Just put it in your backpack. I don’t think we’ll go far. Just to get some food.”

“Can we have the chicken place?” Zoe licked her lips. “I love the chicken place.” She made her point with a few clucking chicken sounds. Stiles rolled his eyes. At this point, he didn’t even know why he bothered being surprised that she had him wrapped around her little finger, especially when he’d been the one to help tie the knots. Zoe slid off the couch and carefully packed her backpack with her book and her Tiana doll.

“Sure, baby.”

Zoe jutted her chin out, staring up at him with her hands on her hips. “I am not a baby, daddy.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. “Of course, you’re not. Come on; I bet you’re hungry.”

Zoe nodded. “Isaac said it was important for growing girls to eat a lot of healthy food.” She wrinkled her nose. “He didn’t eat healthy food that tasted yummy, though, daddy. It tasted like...” she lowered her voice. “Boogers!”

Stiles wisely decided not to inquire exactly how his precious spawn had concluded that particular comparison. He checked his pockets for his wallet and his key card, ignoring his phone when chirped another text.  “Boogers, huh?”

Zoe nodded and slipped her hand in his as they stepped into the hotel’s hallway. Stiles felt rather like he was sneaking out past curfew. He had no doubts that Derek would be less than thrilled at the fact that he’d left the hotel room. He took a step and shivered, almost stumbling at the sensation of electricity running rampant under his skin. Mountain Ash? What the fuck was--- oh. Stiles smirked, then frowned down at the black line of ash. Derek knew that wouldn’t keep Stiles in, so it was clearly meant to keep someone else out.  He frowned stupidly down at it.  How the hell had Derek even gotten it there? If it made his skin feel like it was vibrating off of his bones, what did it do to the Alpha? Stiles’ half-human blood protested crossing the line of protection, but Stiles ignored the slight feeling of foreboding. What was the worst that could happen?  He was just going out for some food.

Stiles tried to ignore the way his heart sped up. Getting food for pack meetings had had less to do with anyone asking Stiles to do anything like that and more with him needing to feel useful. Feeding a roomful of teenagers hadn’t exactly been all that difficult. It was just a small thing, but it helped Stiles feel like the pack had wanted him there while they planned and plotted whatever their next step was.

Stiles had seen the chicken place from the window, and Derek had brought food back from there several times, so he knew it couldn’t be too far. Sure enough, it was just across the street from the hotel. He gripped Zoe’s hand a little more tightly and smiled to himself. It was ridiculous to feel this accomplished from walking across the damn street, but Jesus, was it nice to get out of that room. Those four walls had been closing in at a rather alarmingly accelerated rate.

“There it is, daddy!” Zoe pulled at his hand, and Stiles laughed as he helped her pull open the door to the restaurant. “I miss chicken. When I stayed with Mr. Isaac, he didn’t eat meat at all.”

There was a line of people waiting to order. Stiles grinned down at Zoe, a little confused. “At all?”

Zoe shook her head, looking mournful. “No, daddy. He says that he’s a vegetarian. What’s a vegetarian, daddy? I asked him, but he said that he’s not an animal doctor.”

Stiles knew that he had to look kind of stupid with his mouth open like that, but he honestly didn’t think he had ever heard of something so... so.  Isaac was a vegetarian? A vegetarian werewolf?? Was that even possible? “Uh. Vegetarian, Zoe. Not a veterinarian.”

The lady in front of them snorted a little.

“Oh. I have to pee, daddy.”

Stiles blinked at the abrupt subject change. Of course, she did. Stiles looked at the line of people behind him and sighed. It was his own fault. He knew better than anyone that Zoe mysteriously developed a full bladder at every restaurant they visited. Stiles should have made her go before they left the hotel, but he’d been preoccupied.  “Are you sure you can’t wait, honey?”

“Nuh-huh.” Zoe did a little dance to emphasize her point.

Damn it.  “Okay, then. Let’s go before you have an accident.” Zoe had only recently been able to tell him when she had to go, so this was a rather huge accomplishment for them.

At least the bathrooms were clean. Stiles opened the door to make sure nothing gross was on the seat before he let Zoe in. He heard the outside door open as someone else stepped inside and was briefly glad that this bathroom had more than one stall. Sometimes Zoe took forever to actually go. However, Stiles didn’t think that this would be one of those times. Zoe was doing a lot more than dance around now and looked miserable as Stiles quickly helped her with her jeans.  “By myself, daddy!”

Stiles sighed again. Zoe had definitely come by her stubbornness, honestly. From both sides. “Okay, then. I’ll just be right out here, okay? Let me know if you need some help.”

“No help, daddy! By myself! Myself!” She refused to get up on the toilet until he left, actually making shooing motions with her tiny, little hands.

He held up his own hands in a sign of surrender, shaking his head a little as he pushed the door with his hip to step out of the cubicle and into the restroom.

Stiles didn’t even have time to scream.  

He only had a split-second to see the flash of Morel’s grin, the reflection of the fluorescent lights on the handle of the gun before Morel swung it, hitting him solidly on the temple with the butt of the gun. He thought he stumbled, but he couldn’t be sure.

Blackness swam up and engulfed him before Stiles hit the floor.


TBC!

:D

Wow. I've never had people react like that. Just to be clear, I was warning for there being a cliffhanger, not for anything triggery. Or what I would call triggery. But it was rightly pointed out that what the fuck do I know? So I have since edited the tags. I certainly never meant to offend or hurt anyone.

Chapter Text

Please see the bottom of the page for more notes for possibly triggery specifics on this chapter. Long chapter is Long. There is one more chapter after this and possibly an epilogue. This chapter was kindly looked at by silvarbelle and jlm121, but all mistakes are mine!



Stiles blinked groggily awake to the bang of a door and the muffled panic of Zoe’s scream still hanging in the air. He struggled to his knees, only to fall over on his face as dizziness caused his stomach to clench. He was moving sluggishly towards the door to the restroom despite feeling the dark symptoms of an impending panic attack pulling at the edges of his consciousness. Stiles purposefully ducked his throbbing temple against his shoulder, moaning at the spike of pain it produced but thankful that it sent the dizziness receding. Stiles felt the throb of his heartbeat choking him.

No. Fuck, no, he wasn’t going to do this now. He bit his lip and used the sink to pull himself up to his feet. His stomach wasn’t particularly supportive of the idea, but Stiles made it to the door with another lurching step, only to have it swing open, almost hitting him in the face.

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t seeing things when his dad caught him by steadying his hands-on Stiles’ forearms, keeping him from pitching backward onto the floor again.  

“Jesus Christ. You’d better fucking be okay so that I can choke you with a clear conscience.” Stiles flinched away from the tentative finger his dad used to reach out and prod the head injury. “This is getting to be a habit.”

Stiles couldn’t speak. His mind wasn’t fuzzy. He knew exactly what he’d allowed to happen. Because of his own stupidity, Zoe was missing. This he couldn’t conveniently blame on Derek, or Isaac, or any of his former pack. This was all on him.  

“Stiles?” His dad’s voice was gentle as he looped his arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Come on. Say something.”

Stiles was afraid if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t stop screaming.

He could still see the smirking grin on Morel’s face. Stiles turned into the heat of his dad’s shoulder, feeling weak but burying his face anyway. His dad’s scent- aftershave and peppermint- hit him, and Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep the numbness back, turning away from his dad’s comfort with a jerk.  He saw Isaac walking towards them and flinched again, stopping in mid-step.

“Jesus, Stiles. Derek, Boyd, and Scott have gone after him. We’ll get her back, Stiles. We will.” He reached out towards Stiles's head as though he couldn’t stop himself. “You always did bleed like a freaking stuck pig.”

Stiles just nodded. It was kind of weird that Isaac, of all people, was so concerned about him. Or maybe not, given the events of the past few days. Still, they hadn’t exactly met under the best circumstances. Yet here he was with his body firmly between Stiles and the rest of the people in the small restaurant, clearly sent to protect the two of them from any other threats.

Isaac frowned when they heard sirens. At the sound, Stiles felt his dad’s muscles tense.  Isaac turned and walked quickly towards the back entrance, clearly not wanting to deal with the police. Part of Stiles wanted to dig in his heels- no wait. The police! The police could get her back!-  but Stiles knew that the human law enforcement would only fuck this up more. He wanted to tell his dad not to worry- that the cops would just get in the way, but he knew that his dad still had strong prejudices on that particular subject after almost a lifetime of being told to butt out of the Pack’s business. But he couldn’t.  Stiles didn’t resist when they ran through the small alley, nor did he make a complaint when he saw Isaac’s destination- the black van driven by Allison.

“We can’t get the police involved, Sheriff. Not now.”  Isaac pulled Stiles’ wrist and tossed him into the back of the van without breaking a sweat.

“Not the Sheriff anymore, son. Not for a long time.”  Yeah. His dad didn’t sound happy about the latest turn of events. “Stiles? Come on, Stiles, say something.”

Stiles just blinked, slumped where he’d landed. He heard the doors slam. The van lurched forward as Allison hit the gas, and Stiles didn’t keep himself from tumbling down to the floor. Isaac was there in a second, tilting his head back and examining the cut on the side of his head.

Isaac whistled.  “Yeah, that’s gonna definitely leave a scar. Here, I can clean up the blood at least. Erica! Hand me that kit, okay?” It didn’t occur to him to wonder why there was such a fully-stocked med kit in the back of the van. If the vehicle belonged to the Argents, then well... he was surprised that was the only medical equipment visible. Stiles felt like his limbs were made of jelly as Isaac pushed and prodded him into a sitting position, balanced with his legs crossed criss-cross, applesauce style. Stiles didn’t particularly care, but he also didn’t keep Isaac from cleaning his head wound. Isaac mumbled something not-quite under his breath about stitches and concussions, but Stiles just let him work, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the disgust he knew he’d see in Isaac’s gaze.

Since he’d seen Isaac again, Stiles had assaulted him against a wall and then gone and practically gift-wrapped his daughter and handed her to the psycho that had been stalking him for god knew how long. Of course, Isaac would hate him. Stiles started to feel guilty about that, then winced, jerking back with a serrated sounding gasp of air. Zoe. Zoe. Oh god, oh god, oh, god. His baby  Zoe what was he going to do? What was Morel going to do?

Stiles felt his dad’s warm palms on his arms, rubbing up and down.  “Stiles. Come on. Say something for me, kid.”

Stiles heard them talking about shock and Allison saying something else that jarred; her voice had gotten harder somehow since the last time they’d talked.

There was a screech of tires, and Stiles felt the taste of blood bloom in his mouth as he bit his tongue. Everything tilted as his head started to slam against the metal side of the van, but before it could, Isaac’s arms shot out to help him balance again.

“Jesus, Allison!”

“I’m sorry! There’s something-- I can’t... shit!”  

There was another tremendous boom of sound, and the van swerved again.  Stiles blinked numbly, only now realizing that the sounds he was hearing and the screech of tires were because of something rather large hitting the van. Allison slammed on the brakes, and everyone was thrown forward, Isaac managing to catch both of the Stilinksis, even though his own head knocked painfully on the bar between the seats.

For a moment, the only thing Stiles heard was the ticking of the too-hot engine. Allison sucked in a deep breath and her shaky “Is everyone---” was drowned out by Erica’s screech. “That’s Boyd! And Derek!”

Stiles blinked, pushing himself up from where he sprawled on top of Isaac.  He ignored the way his dad was patting him down again, frowning a little when his phone went off.

Later, Stiles would realize that it was just one of those automatic things that happen to people, a reflex that changed everything. At the time, he’d been too numb to think straight, too desperate to keep the shell of ennui around his fragile emotions- terrified that if he let go for just one instant, he wouldn’t be able to stop the panic clawing at his throat like trapped prey.

Isaac handed Stiles his phone from where it had fallen out of his pocket in the lurch forward caused by Allison’s stop-on-a-dime driving. He certainly didn’t have any idea of what he’d done.  Stiles took the phone, checking the little text message as one did. What he saw made his breath catch in his chest.

Unknown Caller:

--I know something you don’t know.

Stiles felt it then, the dark, pointed jabs of anger deep in his gut. He knew, absolutely knew who was texting him.  Before he could respond, Stiles’ phone buzzed again in his hand.

Unknown Caller:

--Proof. Go see the present I’ve left you. It’s outside.

“He’s outside.”

Isaac and Stiles’ father’s heads whipped towards him so quickly; Stiles was almost sure he heard their vertebrae in their neck pop.  Stiles didn’t recognize his own voice. He hadn’t known his vocal cords could produce a sound that absolutely wrecked.

“Stiles! What? What do you mean?”

Stiles just held up his phone, already starting to clamber over Isaac’s long legs.  Stiles saw his dad’s gaze cut to it, watched his eyes narrow, but didn’t have time to worry about what seeing that was going to do to his father. In this, Stiles had no defense. Morel wanted him to beg, to plead for Zoe? Stiles would bare his throat with gratitude if he knew she would be safe. Morel wanted him? He would go.

This? This way, he was jumping through hoops that were already there and waiting for them? This was nothing. Morel had always been two steps ahead of them. This just seemed like a prequel to the big finale.

Stiles pulled the handle, surprised that the door opened. Whatever had hit the van (and Stiles wasn’t stupid. He had a pretty good idea of what that was)  had dented the layers of steel like a punch through paper mache, but the door still slid open on its track.  He didn’t expect the way his body tilted, his stomach sloshing unpleasantly with nausea as he tried to hop out of the van.  Something was wrong with his sense of balance.

Of course. Concussion. Stiles shook his head sharply, frustrated with his weakness. He ignored the way Allison squawked behind him, ignored the low intensity of his dad’s voice, and forced himself to jog around the back of the van.

Erica was already crouched beside Boyd, cradling his head in her lap. The sight stopped Stiles in his tracks. Even in his most miserable moments, he didn’t ever think that he could forget what they had done to him. To see them together, and Erica obviously worried out of her mind, seemed so... weird. Stiles had spent so long certain that neither of them could possibly have emotions, that seeing proof positive was jarring.

Before he could look at the other bloody, broken lump, Stiles jerked his gaze around, looking for Morel.  He almost had to be here somewhere, right? Watching? It seemed like Morel was always watching. They were stopped in what looked like an abandoned grocery store parking lot. The van blocked the view from the side-street, but Stiles could clearly hear the muted sounds of the traffic as people cruised by, unknowing of the small drama folding out just meters from their cars.  

His phone chirped at him again, and the small sound startled Stiles so much that he almost dropped it.

Unknown Caller:

--I seee you. But you won’t see me. Don’t be such a coward, Stiles. Look at the present I’ve left you. See? He’s even gift-wrapped.

Stiles only noticed that his hands were trembling when he brushed one finger against the back of his hand.  Stiles swallowed hard and forced himself to look.

Derek was just starting to blink awake. Stiles could see that his arms were both broken, bones shifting, and healing in front of his eyes. Derek couldn’t hold back the wince, and Stiles saw that the ropes that tied Derek’s hands and feet were charred. The reek of wolfsbane made it obvious why Derek couldn’t just break the rope and free himself. Road rash bled sluggishly, the grit and gravel from the road looking as though it was bubbling up from the surface of Derek’s skin as the flesh knit flawlessly back together, pushing the imperfections out so that he healed perfectly.

Isaac was cutting open the ropes with a hiss and a flash of a blade. Derek barely noticed; his cool hazel gaze settled directly on Stiles.

Stiles actually jumped when his phone chirped.

Unknown Caller:

--He is no sort of Alpha for you. That pathetic little pup couldn’t even keep his own cub safe. How could he possibly give you what you need?  

His phone beeped again, and Stiles felt his stomach jump up to his throat when he saw that Morel had sent a picture message.  His mouth was a desert. When Stiles nervously swallowed, his throat clicked painfully.

The picture was an extreme close-up of Zoe’s face. Stiles could see how red her eyes were, the eyelids almost translucent from weeping.  The picture had frozen the wet sheen of tears in her big brown eyes. It took him a minute to be able to drag his gaze away from his daughter’s face.  Her cupid’s bow mouth was turned down, and Stiles could still see marks from tear tracks on her cheeks.

The spurt of anger morphed into something so dark that for a second, Stiles wondered if this was what other, full-blooded werewolves felt before they changed. Scott had once said that it was like taking all of the hurt and anger, the fury and hatred inside of him, and balling it up so that he could use it.  That there was a trick to being so angry and so full of rage that you could then turn it into his wolf. Now? Stiles understood what he was talking about. For the first time, Stiles actually felt less than human. Even his heat hadn’t made him feel this... preternatural.

Stiles could feel his own eyes bleed to the ice green of his mother’s and only dimly realized that his hand was clutching his phone tightly enough to crack it. The replacement phone wasn’t very fancy, but it was sturdy enough that the screen didn’t crack from the stress that Stiles put on it. It chirped under his hand, and Stiles wanted to throw it. Adrenaline was causing his heartbeat to pick up. He was having trouble focusing on the rage he felt.  Morel’s message had made it plain that Derek was no match for him.  He’d hurt both Boyd and Derek just to prove a point.  Stiles jerked when he realized that Derek was staring up at him from where he knelt on the floor, his own gaze dark as he darted a quick look from Stiles’ face to Stiles’ phone.

Stiles felt the helpless terror and rage ball into something dark and malignant deep in his gut. Oh, how he wanted them to hurt. Morel? Derek? Both of them?  Stiles wasn’t sure which one he wanted to hurt more.

While most Omegas could change at the full moon, they were too weak to change back and forth as Alphas, and some of the stronger Betas were wont to do. Stiles’ own diluted Omega blood had always kept him from changing.  Even the thought of it had terrified him during that dark time in college while his brain shut off- right before Lydia had swooped down and physically removed his head from his ass.

Now though, he could feel the possibility under his skin. Isaac did a classic spit-take, staring up at Stiles with wide eyes.  Stiles didn’t know if it was the adrenaline focusing his thoughts or the way his pupils had enlarged, but Stiles could see a clearly-defined level of detail. Suddenly, he could see the way Boyd was still struggling to heal, his own abilities not nearly as strong as his Alpha’s.  He could scent the way Erica fairly vibrated with worry as she stared down at Boyd’s broken body, biting her lip. Her heart rate was so high that Stiles could hear each individual thud thundering in his ears.  Allison and his father were practically telegraphing their distress and worry in every single twitching movement that they did. They were so loud! Where was Scott? Shouldn’t he be here?

And Derek.

Stiles’ gaze zeroed in on Derek’s hazel eyes.  He forced himself to take a deep, shaky breath as he stepped away from everyone still crowded around Allison’s van, needing a moment to himself.

He took another step away and another, purposefully releasing his grip on his phone.  It was easy to blame Derek for everything- but the cold, hard truth of the matter was that it had been Stiles who had fucked up...for whatever it was that Morel wanted.

Stiles heard a familiar footstep behind him and counted to five before taking another deep, calming breath.  

“Stiles--”  

Stiles just held up a hand to stall whatever it was that Derek felt he needed to say.  “Save it. Let’s just get her back.”

Derek was silent for so long that Stiles looked down at his phone, idly surprised to see that the ping from before was a video message, then so sick to his stomach that his heart actually skipped a few beats. He felt as though he’d been hit again as the memories of the video Morel had sent made his stomach lurch again. He barely noticed the way Derek was immediately behind him, casually gripping Stiles’ elbow, almost as though he’d been thinking about it unconsciously.

“What?”

Stiles opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out.  He touched the screen with fingers that shook, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. There was a moment while the message loaded, then the video started playing.

Princess Tianna was having a rough day. Her green dress looked ripped and burnt in a  few places. The black hair was matted and scraggly looking. She was absolutely filthy, with her face streaked with red clay and black dirt and only recognizable by the satin sheen of a green dress that Stiles had washed countless times, given that the version that Derek bought was exactly like the one Zoe had left in Massachusetts.

It was obviously calculated. Rationally, Stiles knew that the doll couldn’t have gone through that much trauma in the what. Twenty? Thirty? Minutes that Zoe had been missing.  Rationally, he knew that Morel was a master of the mindfuck, and had been manipulating Stiles (and Derek) for years.

But ‘rationally’ took a hike when he saw the battered doll. All he could see in his head was Zoe, like some twisted metaphor, crying and filthy, marked in the places the doll was. Stiles must have made some sound because the solid, comforting heat of Derek was pressed against him; the low, furious growl almost soothing against the center of Stiles’ back.

“He’s been two steps ahead of me the whole fucking time.”  Derek’s words made Stiles swallow his rage. He couldn’t have said why, really.  It was so confusing; half of him wanted to melt into the comfort that Derek was offering, while the rest of him was so furious that his skin crawled. “He had someone in the hotel the entire time. They didn’t get close until I.” Derek almost seemed to absently reach out to touch the screen of the phone before realizing what he was doing and freezing, his muscles tensing uncomfortably. “Even the Ash that I left was fake. He had someone there to plant it. Unfucking believable, right?”

Stiles blinked.  He hadn’t really thought about the fact that even if Stiles had been able to cross the path of the Ash, Zoe shouldn’t have been able to. At the time, he’d been so focused on food for a pack meeting that he’d willingly left the little sanctuary Derek had provided for them.

They both jumped when a tiny hand curled around Tianna’s leg, patting it almost absently. Stiles made a sound like his internal organs all exploded at the same time, then whirled, almost knocking Derek over, screaming for his dad.

“Dad! Dad! I know where she is! Dad!!”

Stiles ignored the way his dad stared at him, too set on waving his phone in his and Allison’s face to be offended.   The phone chirped at him as a text came through, and Stiles saw the horrified, furious knowledge on both his dad’s and Derek’s faces as they realized exactly who was texting and sending Stiles videos.

Unknown Caller:
    -Come alone.

Stiles wasn’t even aware that he had sucked in a shocked breath, words tumbling from his mouth in his haste to make all of them understand. “It’s the clay. The clay! Mom used to take me out there when you were working, when she was upset that you had a double and weren’t home. Usually, we’d just eat cereal on the couch and watch Johnny Bravo, but fuck. Fuck, he had to have seen her. She would be so... so full of energy. Like it would zip under her skin, like electricity. She tried howling once, but I got so scared that she stopped, and oh my god. He had to have.”  

Stiles sucked in a deep breath, his gaze jumping from Derek’s to Allison’s, to his dad’s. They stared back, identical looks of stupefaction on their faces.  Stiles hissed, furious. Why did everyone around him have to be so stupid?  “The clay! There’s only one place in Beacon Hills where the clay’s like tha--” Stiles broke off at the terrible look on his dad’s face.  Stiles hadn’t seen that look in years, and only when his dad was so drunk that he couldn’t bottle up the loneliness or the bitter anger of losing his wife anymore.  When Stiles spoke, he didn’t have to try to make his voice gentle.

“Dad. We used to go there all the time and play. She’d act all mad that I was covered in clay, but she’d run with me. Chase me, dad. Remember the tub? You’d come home, and I’d be in the bath... and that was after she hosed me down outside. Trust me. I know what that stuff looks like. And it’s here, deliberately here and here on Zoe’s hand.” Stiles clicked off of the text message and back to the video, pausing and holding it up, leaning out of the way as they all tried to crowd around the little phone to see.

Stiles watched all of them, watched their reactions as his head throbbed so painfully that he could feel it in his back teeth.

“She’s at the quarry. The one just outside of Beacon Hills. The one where you found...mom.” Stiles’ dad had not let him see the crime scene photos, but as a teenager, Stiles had found them.  Her body had been streaked with the same clay.  So had his dad’s uniform. The blood and the clay had mixed together enough that Stiles would be very, very surprised if the two weren’t forever linked in his dad’s head.

Since it was outside of Beacon Hills’ jurisdiction, his dad hadn’t been on the case (and obviously, who would have let the spouse of a murdered victim anywhere near the case?), but he’d been kept in the loop by the Staties that had been responsible for.

Oh.

Oh.

When it clicked, the nausea that Stiles had been battling for the past half an hour won. Stiles barely had time to turn away from everyone before he was vomiting, the spasms keeping him bent over and helpless as he fell to his knees.

There was a startled squawk of sound from Derek’s pack, but of all people, it was Allison who held him while Stiles lost control of his body.  When he was done, she wiped his face and helped him back to his feet.

Stiles was enjoying the white static that buzzed in his mind for the blissful seconds before plans started whirling around his brain: ideas and thoughts and possibilities swirling together. The familiarity Stiles had always felt at even hearing Morel’s name had bothered him in the way things did when they were just on the tip of the tongue, ready to click into place.  Only, it had taken thinking about his dad’s hidden, probably-not-legally-obtained casefiles of his dead mother for that click to happen.

Adrian Morel had murdered Stiles’ mom.  He had lured her there- they had later found information on her computer promising twisted retribution to her human husband and son if she didn’t comply- then killed her.

Only his mom? She had fought. There had been such obvious signs of a struggle that the detective in charge had believed that Stiles’ mom had fatally-wounded her attacker.  Sometimes, on her birthday or on Mother’s Day, Stiles had taken a twisted sort of satisfaction that if she had to die, she did it protecting him and his dad. It didn’t really help.... but sometimes? Sometimes that was all he had.

Stiles’ dad had gotten there before the police and the paramedics, with just enough time to say...goodbye. Stiles wasn’t sure. He had never asked, and his dad never offered the information. Stiles only knew that she had died in her dad’s lap because of the statement he’d given to the detective in charge as to why her body had been moved.

Stiles blinked, the sour taste in his mouth and the pounding of his head forcibly dragging him back to the here and now.  

Stiles’ dad and Derek were arguing, both of their tempers clearly blowing past whatever checks and balances they had. Normally, Stiles thought he’d be popping some popcorn and getting comfy to watch his dad tear into Derek, but now?

“We really need to focus on. If Morel has been ... if he wanted my mom and me and Zoe, it’s a pretty safe bet to assume that he’s not going to stop with us until he’s dead.” Stiles wiped his mouth on his plaid, then balled it up and wiped the sweat off of his head, tossing it into the back of the open van. There was little point in pretending he was completely okay- every single person here would see through that in half a second-, but he could fake it long enough for what speed-healing he had to kick in. It would take him a good twelve hours to heal his head. Fortunately for Stiles, he had excellent proof that his head was extremely hard.

“He wants me... to know where Zoe is.  Morel is ready for a confrontation. And... he wants me to come alone.”

Derek actually growled at that. Isaac’s eyes changed, his nose and mouth twisting to the less-controlled werewolf form of his other shape.  Stiles rolled his eyes, wishing not for the first time that he could get away with whacking them on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.  Well, okay without losing his arm in the process.  Stiles sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck and giving them what he hoped was a look that spoke volumes about their bullshit.

“And, since we don’t know who is watching.... that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”  Stiles ignored the way his dad’s knuckles popped when he balled his fists together. Isaac huffed a heated breath. Derek didn’t move- just stared at Stiles like he was waiting for the punchline. “He wants me to come alone? Then that’s what he gets.”

*****

Stiles felt a little ridiculous standing in the middle of the rock quarry, his feet squelching in the rocky mix of clay and mud that had caused this place to be abandoned. Funnily enough, digging away at the supporting rocks of the earth apparently caused sinkholes. Stiles bet that whoever had fucked that particular little fact up had gotten a truly epic amount of shit for it.  Still, as long as people kept away from where they’d been digging and digging, and the huge sinkhole that (fortunately) hadn’t spread past where the rocks still sort of blocked it in, it was safe enough. There was a large, dense patch of woods to the southeast that he and his mom used to play in, but Stiles made sure not to look over there.  

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Stiles bit his lip.  He knew that Derek, his dad, Isaac, hell, even Boyd, Erica, and Allison weren’t exactly thrilled with his plan. But when Scott had texted them, the plan had suddenly gone from a firm ‘fuck, no!’ to a slightly less rigid, ‘fuck, no, are you actually insane, Stiles?!’ and that? That he could work with.

The problem with werewolves being bad guys was that they were impossible to sneak up on. The better eyesight, superior hearing, and frankly freaky sense of smell was all well and good when your side was the only one who had that advantage, but when the other side had the same sort of advantage, things became a little less gloat-worthy.

Still, it was hard not to think of sacrificial lambs and, well, basically the plot of every horror movie that had ever been written ever as he stood there, waiting for something to happen.

Stiles’ phone buzzed again.  He sighed and took it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.  It seemed sick of him to feel amused at Scott’s rather pathetic-sounding text.

Scott:

-dude. I get that we need someone to watch the back, but this is seriously the nastiest stink that ever stank.

Stiles felt his lips twitch into a smirk.  Nope. He definitely didn’t feel bad for Scott. In fact, if there was a way for the maggot-infested rotting carcass that Scott was literally wrapped in to be even more disgusting, Stiles was completely on board with that.

It had been the dumbest of luck, and really if dumb luck wasn’t Scott all over, then Stiles didn’t know what was, that Morel hadn’t known that Scott had followed Derek and Boyd.  But, where Derek and Boyd had gone for the full-on frontal werewolf of rage assault, Scott had clearly used all his years of Call of Duty shooter strategy to track them from the back.  The result? Scott had managed where none of them had. He’d successfully followed Morel’s pack, had seen Zoe in the hands of some of the underlings hole up in the old trailer that had served as the quarry headquarters, and was currently covered in enough stink to hide the scent of ten werewolves, watching the trailer where Stiles’ daughter was being kept.  

Scott had texted where he was and that Morel wasn’t there, then had sat back to wait.  Unfortunately, while Scott could text information, they had decided not to text back, given that the sound of his phone vibrating would be a little harder to hide than the scent of his body.

And as ridiculous as Stiles felt standing here, waiting for something to happen, it was kind of nice to know that Scott had his back again. Even if Stiles still didn’t quite trust him to keep it safe. Standing here and doing nothing was still better than the shocky, withdrawn state he’d been in right after Zoe had been kidnapped. And unfortunately? Stiles knew that that was just on the horizon of his consciousness, that he could go back to that if he gave up his focus for only a second.

The sound of a  truck bumping along the rocky ground caused Stiles to tense. He had to be very careful not to look over to where Scott was hiding.  Morel had wanted him to come alone, and it was absolutely imperative that it look like Stiles was complying.  That, of course, had made both his dad and Derek less than happy, but Stiles kind of snotty remark that ‘he’d done just fine for himself without either one of them for a few years now’ had at least managed to shut them up. Stiles got why his dad was so protective. But Derek? God only knew what was going on in that head of his. Stiles certainly didn’t.

The truck, a huge Hemi-powered SUV, pulled up ten feet from where Stiles was standing.  He tried not to tense as the door opened, but seeing Morel face-to-face after so long was just... weird. His chest gave a funny twitch like it remembered being shot, and Stiles couldn’t help the step back that he took, breathing a little heavier than normal.

“Wow, so you must have a really tiny dick if you're compensating with a truck that big. Rev up the engine so I’ll be really impressed.”  

Stiles could almost feel the facepalm from wherever Derek was hiding.

Morel’s smirk widened into a delighted smile. That creeped Stiles out more than anything.

“I am certain that you will have plenty of time to decide for yourself. Now. Before we continue with tonight’s little drama, why don’t you go ahead and have that little pup come out of hiding? Really, did you think that I wouldn’t scent an Alpha on my own property?” Morel’s voice rose. “Hale! Come now. You and I both know how this is going to end!” Before Stiles could do anything to avoid it, Morel had twisted around him with reflexes that made his own look like that of an old lady. An old, arthritic lady. One of his hands was on Stiles's throat, lightly pressing. The other arm was wrapped firmly around Stiles’ waist, fingers digging into the meat of his left asscheek.  Stiles bent back as best he could, but Morel’s mouth was on his, kissing him hard enough that his split lip bled again.

Stiles’ faint thought of ‘ha, hope you like puke-breath, you sick fuck,’ was startled out of him by the furious burst of motion that was Derek busting out of the small tower of granite stacked and forgotten.

The prick of Morel’s claws on the back of Stiles’ neck caused both of them to freeze. Stiles hated that Morel could probably smell his fear, but he was terribly, horrifically aware of what would happen if Morel tried to mark him as part of his pack.  It wasn’t like you could just wave a magic wand and get rid of Omega blood.  Wolves have been trying for centuries, and Stiles had seen pictures of what was left of the Omega after their blood rejected the Alphas.  

Sometimes he still had nightmares.

“Good dog. That’s so much better. Now come along. We have much to discuss.” Morel’s grip on Stiles’ ass changed as he grabbed Stiles’ wrist instead, his other hand not leaving his neck.  He wasn’t going anywhere.  Derek was a warm blast of heat beside him as they walked towards the small trailer.

It had been killing Stiles not to just break the plan and run for the trailer. The thought of what Morel would do to Zoe was the only thing that kept him from hauling ass. Now though, with each step that brought them closer to the abandoned building, something in Stiles almost purred. He would be calm. He wouldn’t fuck this up, but oh oh oh ohhh how Morel would hurt before this night was over. Stiles faked a stumble into Morel’s body. His skin crawled, but he was willing to believe that Morel would be distracted enough by the brush of Stiles’ body for the way his fingers flew over the keypad of his phone, still hidden in his pocket, to go unnoticed.

Isaac, Stiles’ dad, and strangely enough of all people, Erica had been against the idea of Derek going into this with him at their brief strategy meeting. Stiles hadn’t particularly felt like fighting, so he’d kept his opinion to himself. But now, as Derek walked up the steps just ahead of them, Stiles could sort of see their point.  

Derek was barely holding his shit together. Stiles could tell by his elevated breathing, by the sheen of sweat on his forehead, by the faint tremble of his fingers.  Maybe there was some sort of wolfy-- oh. Of course. The urge to protect the younger members of the pack was as strong as any other instinct. It was one of the reasons that while most packs looked down on Omegas as breeders, their offspring were a precious resource. They were true-born wolves, and as such imperative to the strength of the pack.  Stiles had been fairly certain that Derek is only helping him for Zoe. And that was fine, really. As long as Zoe was safe, nothing else really mattered. But Stiles didn’t know how strong Derek could be against all those centuries of protective instincts.  He bit his lip, following Derek meekly up the few stairs.

Here was the part of the plan that Stiles didn’t like. He could get behind being bait. He understood the strategic need to make Morel think that he was nothing but complacent. But now? Now Stiles had to trust his former pack- and fuck them. Stiles had been pack, despite what their stubborn, human-biased asses had to say- who had done their very best to break him.

The door swung open with hinges that groaned with disuse.  Stiles had only the blurred impression of three thug-looking wolves in the back before there was a muffled shriek.  Stiles only caught a quick glimpse of pink before he was hurling himself away from Morel’s grip and across the room towards his daughter.

Only to be brought up short by the sight of one of the betas in the room grabbing Zoe’s jacket by the pink hood and tugging sharply enough that it kept her from running. His smirk spoke volumes. Zoe turned, launching herself at the calf of the man holding her, tiny teeth tearing into his leg. Stiles gaped at the ferocity his sweet girl displayed, clearly furious at the man who dared keep her from her dad. The man swore and swatted at her, sending her staggering towards the floor, before hauling her up by her hoodie and giving her a little shake.

It was only the thought of scaring his little girl that kept Stiles from killing him right then and there.

“Now, now. Let’s all make ourselves comfortable.  Jeffery, You can let her go. good thing for you that she still has all her baby teeth!” Morel chuckled, sounding inordinately pleased at the almost feral way Zoe attacked the man holding her. “I’m sure she misses her daddy.”  The beta let go of Zoe immediately. Zoe was a little blur as she ran forward, and when Stiles wrapped his arms around her, he thought his heart was simply going to stop. He buried his nose in her shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply as her skinny little arms wrapped just as tightly around him.

“Daddy. I did not like that game. Hide and go seek is supposed to be fun. He is a big stupidhead meanie!” Zoe frowned over at Morel. “I had to watch cartoons the whole time. He said I was too little to read! Daddy? It’s okay, daddy. You don’t have to cry. It was just a game... Daddy?”

“Aww. Aren’t they sweet? What do you think, Mr. Hale?” Morel’s voice brought Stiles back to the fact that they were far, far from being anything close to safe. Stiles felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the thought at how very differently this could have gone.  Zoe seemed under the impression that they had been playing a rather involved game of hide and seek. It made something in Stiles’ gut relax slightly. She looked and acted unharmed.

For the first time, Stiles realized that Morel might have some of the same instinct against Omega-born weres as Derek.  The thought was utterly foreign and made him frown. While he couldn’t be more grateful (and the pessimistic little voice in the back of his mind made it clear that Stiles had no way of knowing if Zoe had been hurt or not) that Morel might not be as completely sadistic as they had all assumed, it was weird as hell to attribute him with any sort of positive acknowledgment.

Stiles turned, moving so that his body was between Zoe’s and Morel’s, but that put her within reach of the three goons in the back of the room. Still, that was better than having her have to look at Morel and whatever sick shit he was planning.

“Ah, no reason to talk. I can see it on your face as plain as day. I wanted you to see them, Derek. See how perfect my little family will be?” Derek only shifted forward the tiniest little bit but froze when he saw the glint of the gun casually pointed at Stiles and Zoe. Stiles shifted so that Zoe couldn’t see anything, panic a hard little ball in his throat. The three goons had no problem subduing Derek. Derek didn’t even fight. He’d seemed to go somewhere completely calm. The only sign of any emotional upheaval was the way his eyes had bled away to a furious, seething red.

Morel walked over to a chair and sat down, putting his feet up onto the ancient, termite-infested desk.  The gun dangled from his wrist, but Stiles had no trouble imagining how quickly Morel could aim and fire it, despite the less-threatening hold. The goons bound Derek’s hands behind his back, pushing him down to his knees. Stiles couldn’t help but notice that the one Zoe had attacked was limping a little. Stiles could smell the wolfsbane-infused rope that Morel had used only hours before and sighed. While he was sure that Derek could kick ass, literally with his hands tied behind his back, this would have been a fuck of a lot less nerve-racking if Derek hadn’t had to.

“The thing is,  Stiles, I’ve been trying to tell you for quite a while that I would make a much more attractive mate than Derek.”

Stiles couldn’t help it. He snorted.

Morel continued, speaking over Stiles's disbelief.  “Look at him. Brought low so willingly. Well, I don’t need to tell you how weak he is. Look at how willing he was to believe my little stories back before you left!”

Stiles winced. “Well, he did see you slobbering all over me.”

Morel laughed. “And look! You’re defending him. Well, this is just perfect.”

“Stiles doesn’t belong to anyone but Zoe.” Derek’s voice was calm on the surface but laced with such rage that Stiles couldn’t help the small shiver down his spine.

“Wrong!  You seem to be utterly confused. I guess brainpower wasn’t really ever your strong suit. What you fail to understand is that Stiles. Is. Mine!” Morel’s roar caused Zoe to whimper and press closer to Stiles’ chest.

“Don’t you understand? I’ve had him. Them. I’ve seen him sleep. I’ve seen him touch himself.  Seen him cry when he remembers your ever so thoughtful parting gift, seen every second of self-doubt when he raised a beautiful creature by himself.  I was there to see Zoe grow up. Not you! Not any of you.” Morel causally brought the gun around, shooting Derek in the shoulder, the pfffft of the silencer completely shocking in the small room.  Stiles cried out, all at once terrified, desperate for Zoe not to hear or understand what was going on.  

“You can’t possibly mean for her to see this,” Stiles blurted before he could think of holding back the words. Stiles would use whatever instinct to protect that Morel had, especially if it got his daughter out of the way of whatever the fuck was going on.

Morel tapped his chin, once with the barrel of the gun, before nodding once at one of the betas. Stiles noticed that it wasn’t the one that Zoe had bitten. “Take her to my car. Wait for us there.”

It took everything Stiles had not to meet Derek’s red gaze. His cell phone was burning a hole in his pocket. “No! I mean...”

“I promise you that she won’t be harmed. Unless you prefer she stay here, with a front-row seat?”

Stiles shook his head, hugging Zoe to him again. It physically hurt him to let her go, but the plan called for her being safe and out of the way.  Stiles might not trust Scott, but he knew that Zoe wouldn’t come to any harm in his care.

“Daddy? I don’t want to go with him.”

“Aw, Zoe. Now you know better than that.” Stiles's stomach swam with disgust as he talked his baby girl into leaving with the stranger. Still, it was better than leaving her in here with him and watching.... whatever it was that Morel was going to do. He knew that he had to stall for time before the rest of Derek’s pack could be in a position to help.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Well, I left some books in my car. Maybe if you ask really nicely, he’ll go and get them for you.”

The stubborn jut of Zoe’s chin was pure Derek Hale.  She turned to look at the beta, who forced a terribly fake smile for Zoe’s sake. He was lucky that Stiles wasn’t in a position to rip out his throat.  Zoe hugged him and kissed his cheek, rubbing her nose against his cheek the same ways that puppies did. Stiles saw Derek shifting slightly so that Zoe couldn’t see that his hands were tied or the still-sluggishly bleeding wound in his shoulder.  Derek seemed completely baffled when Zoe did the same thing to him, giggling a little at the “fur” on his face under her lips when she kissed him.

Stiles thought he had had his heart broken before, but watching Zoe slip her trusting hand into the beta charged with babysitting and walking out of the dingy little trailer with him was the hardest thing he’d ever done.  He had to curl his nails into the palms of his hands to keep from reaching for his cell phone.

Stiles took a deep, shaky breath. “So... can I ask you something? How did you find me? I mean, my dad couldn’t even find me.”

Morel raised an eyebrow, swinging his feet down and patting the surface of the desk, his intentions clear. Stiles wrinkled his nose but figured that it wouldn’t hurt to at least seem like he was on board with Morel’s special version of crazy.

“Funny, you should ask. I really couldn’t have done it without your dear friend, Harper.”

Stiles hadn’t been expecting that. Hurt speared through him like a shot from a gun. He gasped, pausing in mid-step towards Morel.  

“No. Not in the way you think, of course. She didn’t give you up or anything as tedious as all that. Were you aware that she considers herself a bit of a blogger? Funny how a few positive comments can open those anonymous floodgates. A few years ago, she mentions that someone saved her life: someone brave and sweet, a young man who just happened to have been pregnant at the time.  And oh my, how desperately guilty she felt at being responsible for the premature birth! I’m quite sure her mother was behind the post’s deletion, but it was the most fortunate of instances of luck that one of my loyal pack just happened to capture it and send it my way.  Of course, when it was deleted, we knew that it had to be true.”

Stiles pressed his hands into the sharp corners of the desk, keeping it between him and Morel. He couldn’t quite bring himself to perch on the desk like Morel so obviously wanted. Despite himself, he was interested in Morel’s answer.

“Did you know that you are one of only seventeen Omegas left in the entire United States?”

The non-sequitur caused Stiles to gape at Morel’s calm face, nonplussed. Derek made an odd sound to his left. For a moment, Stiles had actually forgotten that they were in the middle of their own drama- carefully staged for Morel’s amusement.  Even the two betas left in the room shifted slightly uncomfortably.

“Oh! Indeed. You see, while you were on your little jaunt--- no. Actually, it was a bit earlier than that that the idea actually occurred to me. With your mother’s death, to tell the truth.

Stiles tensed.

Morel’s smile twisted into a smirk.  “Oh? I see that’s not as much of a surprise as I had hoped. Shame, really, that she didn’t value her family a little more. I even offered to let her and her child stay with me, but would she budge? Do you know that she actually seemed offended at my off--”

Stiles launched himself at Morel.  He didn’t think he had ever tried to hurt someone in his life, and it was worth it for the feel of Morel’s flesh giving under his fingernails. Stiles tried to take a swing, but Morel had his arm twisted up behind his back, pressing him to the surface of the desk with barely a skip in his heartbeat.  

Stiles kicked at him, but Morel held his skinnier frame down with minimal effort. Stiles hissed, watching the deep scratches healing before his eyes. Stiles glared up at the werewolf, noting with some tiny little part of his mind that he had finally managed to piss him off. His phone fell out of his pocket and clattered onto the stained linoleum.

Morel snarled down at Stiles, causing his shoulder to pull painfully as the added weight pushed Stiles’ arm into the unforgiving surface of the desk.  “This is why your kind needs to be exterminated. And you will be, as soon as you’ve bred me enough cubs. You think that because you’re allowed to run with your betters that you’re one of us.  But first, I think you need to remember just who it is that you belong to. You picked me, Stiles. You know that wolves mate for life. I knew what we were as soon as I tasted you for the first time.”

Stiles gaped up at him.  “You’re fucking insane. I kissed you as a distraction so that my pack could take you down.” Stiles shook his head, raising his neck up from where it lolled against the edge of the desk. He caught a glimpse of Derek’s too-pale face but couldn’t concentrate on what that meant. “I knew that Derek and Scott were having trouble with you. Some kind of territory thing. I snuck in there so that your attention would be off of them when they kicked your ass. And seriously, dude - I have to tell you that the being shot thing was sort of a deal-breaker even if I had any interest in your ancient, older-than-my-dad ass.” Incredibly, of all things, this caused Derek to snort a huff of laughter.  Morel looked furious, pushing Stiles away from him and whirling to stand by the window, looking out to the two vehicles parked just outside.  Stiles’ heart stuttered in his chest, remembering the fact that Morel held a weapon and was facing the vehicle where his daughter was being held.

“I have watched every step that Zoe has taken. I’ve seen her first bout of colic. The first time you changed her diaper. The times you cried yourself to sleep when you realized how much you wanted your friends to know... to even care that Stiles Stilinski even existed. The first time she got her hair cut. The first time she ate solid food.  I have watched you for years!” His voice roared so loudly that Stiles winced, pushing himself up from the desk. “You are mine in every single way that could possibly count. You will give me beautiful children, and for that reason alone, I cannot harm you. But him?” Morel turned, his face eerily blank as he stared at Derek. “Him I can hurt with no problem. One-shot and his pack is no more—all of them, the ones that hurt you so deeply, gone. I will hunt them down one by one for each, and every time you cried yourself to sleep over their idiocy. I have something very, very special planned for your former lover, Stiles. Something that will make him regret each time he touched what. Was. MINE!”

Stiles shut his mouth with a small snap. He turned to look at Derek, who was ignoring Stiles completely, staring down at the floor with an almost obsessive glare, as though there would be a test later on the stains marring the linoleum.  

“So, my dear one. You have a choice. All good lessons begin with a choice, right? Those weak little breeders that I killed- they had choices. I offered to give them everything, and yet they could not bear to give up their cubs to me. As though they would raise them with any of the skills needed for a true predator.  Your mother had a choice, and unfortunately for you, she made the wrong one. It hurt me to gut her, knowing that she had the potential to produce such powerful offspring if only she wasn’t...” Morel waved the hand with the gun around like he couldn’t quite think of the words that he wanted to say. “..so enamored of her human spouse. Still. I believe that you will make a far more intelligent choice, Stiles.”

Morel took a step forward. Stiles shifted backward, slightly, keeping his body between Derek and Morel.  It was probably stupid, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying his best to get Derek out of this any more than Stiles could stop his next breath from his lungs.

“Stiles.” Derek’s growl was so full of emotion that it caused Stiles to jump where he stood. He’d never understood why people always said Derek Hale was emotionally barren. Emotionally constipated, maybe. But he felt things.  And right now? He was not happy with Stiles’ pathetic attempts to protect him.

“Stilessss.” Morel’s voice echoed Derek’s warning, mocking him with a drawn-out s at the end, like the hiss of a snake. “So? Here is your choice. You can either come with me and our cub. Willingly. I’ll even... promise not to harm your dear father.  The three of us will begin to rebuild my pack to the strength of my ancestors. Or? You can have a center seat for all the ... inventive things that I have dreamed of doing to your Mr. Hale.”

Stiles blinked, the blood draining from his face.  His lips twitched. For a second, he was terrifyingly afraid that he would burst out laughing. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d had a terribly inappropriate reaction to something.  Morel was almost caressing the gun now, his posture absolutely relaxed, as though he was waiting for Stiles to decide what he wanted for dinner.  

Stiles licked his lips.  He didn’t mean for it to be provocative, but Morel’s gaze focused on him like a laser beam, causing Stiles’ skin to actually crawl with discomfort.  

Stiles forced himself to take one more glance at Derek. Because of this? This was not really a choice at all. If he went with Morel, he and Zoe would be safe. Derek would be safe. “How do I... know that you won’t just shoot him later? Or have one of your goons do it?”

It hurt his heart to hear the low, shocked sound Derek made from behind him.

Morel’s smirk turned smug. “You don’t. It’s a leap of faith.”

Stiles bit his lip,  quickly thinking. Doing this would change the plan... but they’d be safe. He was sure that he could get himself and Zoe away from Morel later. Stiles’ body shifted, ready to take that one step forward before turning to see Derek still staring at the floor. He wanted...He wanted...

He just wanted. His throat was tight. “Derek...” It was barely a breath of air.

Derek looked up for one second, and the force of his gaze caused everything in Stiles to freeze. He could see fury. Terror. Frustration. And something else that Stiles refused to put a name to. Something softer but no less crushing to see. Stiles could feel his cheeks flush with the stupid, stuttering way that his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

The shot rang out with a strange echo as the sound bounced around the quarry.  Stiles didn’t even have time to breathe before Derek moved, his muscles springing into action from the way they’d been bunched together in preparation for his need to move. Stiles cried out when his back hit the filthy floor, the solid weight of Derek crashing into him and taking him to the floor. Derek hit him so hard that they actually skidded a few inches across the floor, causing Stiles’ shirt to ruck up to his armpits.

For a moment, the only sound Stiles could hear was the crash of his and Derek’s hearts, punctuated with the tinkle of falling glass.

“Stiles?? STILES?”

His dad. Stiles stared up at his dad from over Derek’s shoulder, framed almost perfectly in the window of the old trailer, the red-spattered glass neither hiding the frantic desperation on his face nor the shotgun that he still held.

There was the sound of swearing, and Stiles blinked stupidly up at the two betas as they both tried to sprint for the door before blinking again up at Derek’s face.  The look Stiles had seen could have been completely in his head for all that there was evidence of it on Derek’s face.  Derek’s gaze was hooded, his face so blank that Stiles would have cringed away from him had he been able.

There was a shout and the sound of someone’s fist hitting flesh.

“I think you can get off of me now.”

Derek rolled off of Stiles with a quick, jerky movement, completely at odds with his usual grace he usually displayed without even thinking about it.

Stiles only had a glimpse of red blood spatter before he forced himself to look away. He struggled to get to his knees, then used the desk to pull himself up to his feet, still a little dizzy between Morel’s earlier love-tap with the gun and Derek’s more recent tackle.  

He heard his dad’s voice and Boyd’s low reply. When Zoe’s piping voice made its way to Stiles sluggish brain, he practically burst through the door before his baby could see Morel’s grey matter splattered across the desk.  They all met on the porch. It was slightly surreal, actually. Zoe threw herself at Stiles. Derek ignored the both of them, jerking his head at Boyd and Isaac, who both nodded, looking feral as they hauled off Morel’s two betas.

Scott and Allison were having some sort of furiously hissed argument on the fringe of Stiles’ awareness. He felt his dad’s arms come around the two of them, and Stiles let himself relax for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“Daddy, your stinky friend is so cool! Did you know that he can burp the entire ABCs?”  Zoe pulled away from Stiles's clutching hug, waving brightly at a sheepish-looking Scott.

Stiles hiccuped from tears to a giggle. It burst from his throat without his control; then he was laughing so hard that his legs collapsed, utterly unable to hold his weight.  “Yeah? How did you meet him?”

“Oh! Well, he’s faster than Harper.” Clearly, this was a huge concession. “He and the other stupidface meanie had a talk; then your stinky friend told me to come with him. I know that I’m not supposed to go with strangers,” Zoe scuffed her sneaker in the dirt, peeking up at her dad through her eyelashes.  Stiles heard his dad snort. He couldn’t blame him. Stiles had been performing that particular Stilinski move since the early nineties. “..but your friend was with him.” Zoe nodded at Allison.

“Uh. Stiles?” Stiles wiped the tears from his cheeks and turned to Allison, noticing that she was shifting her weight. “I need to... uh.”  Her brown gaze cut down to the large knife she was holding against her leg, carefully keeping it from Zoe’s gaze.

Oh. Oh! Of course. Werewolves could heal even a headshot. Stiles stood aside and let Allison slide through the door to finish cleaning up the mess. Scott bit his lip, looking nervously at Stiles, Zoe, and Stiles’ dad.

The wind changed, and all of them winced at the stench that hit them.  Stiles would never say that his Omega instincts were his best feature, but even he could understand why Zoe was calling  Scott Stiles’ stinky friend.

Between one blink and the next, Derek, Isaac, and Boyd were coming back.  They only had one Beta with them, clearly unconscious and bound with the wolfsbane ropes that had so recently held  Derek captive.  Stiles started to ask where the other asshole was but noticed two things: The first was that the beta that was missing was the one that had swatted at his daughter. At... their daughter.  The second was that Derek still had flecks of blood on his clothes and something that looked suspiciously like little globs of flesh under his nails. They fell onto the ground with a wet plop as Derek quickly retracted his claws into his human form.

The slow smile of satisfaction was hard to contain. Stiles would waste time worrying about the state of their souls or some such nonsense, but he was too busy remembering the way his daughter had staggered when she had been hit to feel much more than glad that Derek had handled it.

Derek’s gaze jumped from Scott’s to Boyd and Erica’s, back to Stiles’ dad’s, and finally down to Stiles before he spoke.

“Okay so, I think we’re done here. Time to go home.”
****

TBC! I think I already said this, but there should be one more chapter and an epilogue. :) THANK YOU for your patience. I don't have an eta on when it will be finished, but it certainly won't be as long of a wait as you just went through. Promise!!!

ETA: GAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. Thanks again to Silvarbelle for looking over this chapter! I forgot to thank her AGAIN!

Chapter Text

Stiles faceplanted onto the couch with a muffled groan. Every single muscle in his body seemed to twinge and throb. The side of his face hurt. His back hurt from where Derek had tackled him.  He had bitten his tongue at some point, and it throbbed like a bitch.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Shoes off the couch. Just because we’re not home doesn’t mean that you get to be a slob.”

Stiles managed what, really? Look out of one eye before rolling it and flopping his sneakers off with one toe, then the other.  They fell on the carpet with a thunk.  He heard his dad twist the top off the beer bottle and the little clink of the top hitting the side table before sighing low like he hadn’t slept in days.

Stiles figured that he probably hadn’t. His dad was kind of a worrier like that.

“Okay, so. I’m guessing that you aren’t quite ready for the emotional upheaval of calmly discussing everything like the two rational adults that we are, so I had Chris bring booze.  And pizza.”

Stiles opened one eye.  His stomach gave an interested rumble. He slowly took stock of his body, trying to decide whether or not he really had the energy to eat right now. He turned his head to see where Zoe still slept in her little nest of sleeping bags and blankets, exhausted by the last few days, and stared for a minute, trying to keep himself from curling up beside her.  Finally, he huffed out an irate breath and heaved himself off the couch to go pull her onto his lap so that he could stroke her slightly damp hair. He wasn’t quite ready to face not having her close. It was like he felt after finding the note in her stroller, only magnified by about three hundred bajillions. Give or take.

The ride back to Beacon Hills, aside from the almost tangible awkwardness, was a complete blur.  Stiles hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that somehow Morel was still watching him at his dad’s house, so when Allison had offered him, his dad, and Zoe the safe “house,” Stiles had agreed. Zoe had fallen asleep pretty quickly.  They hadn’t had a car seat, so Stiles had held her in the center seat with his dad crammed up against him on one side and Isaac on the other.  Zoe had rubbed his face a few times with her tiny pug nose, licking at his throat once with a tiny, satisfied sound that had she been an actual wolf pup, Stiles would have called a yip.  She had babbled on for a while before falling asleep, practically mid-syllable.  Stiles had looked up from where he’d been touching her head, her face, her arms, before just resting his hand on her back to feel her heartbeat to meet Derek’s gaze in the rear-view mirror only once. Stiles had jolted as though he’d been slapped.  The movement was so abrupt that Zoe had made an unhappy sound in her sleep.

But when Stiles looked back up, Derek’s gaze was purposefully on the road.  

To say that they had unfinished business was rather an understatement. Still, when Derek had herded the rest of his pack along after they had dropped Stiles, his dad, and Zoe off at the safehouse, he had driven off with his jaw clenched in a way that Stiles recognized as his ‘everyone fuck off- I’m feeling feelings and don’t know what they mean’ sort of way.  

Not even remembering the way everyone had insisted that Scott and his disgusting stink ride in the back of Boyd’s truck had done anything to alleviate the tense mood.  Between the dead... whatever it had been and the heat of the afternoon, Scott had reminded Stiles a little of Pigpen from the Peanuts cartoons.

Stiles would have done anything to not have to ride all the way home trapped as he was in a car with Derek and his dad and a fuckload of unfinished business. Still, he supposed that he was lucky that Derek wasn’t here. Stiles sighed, pressing his back sharply against the wall.  “I could eat.”

His dad grunted and went into the kitchen.  Soon the pizza smells had Stiles making a face, his stomach not sure if he was hungry or nauseous.  The first burst of greasy cheese and sausage convinced him, and before he knew it, Stiles was chomping away, careful not to drop food onto his sleeping daughter.

“Sooo.” His dad drew out the syllable in a way that still made Stiles cringe.  “You’ve had a busy few days. I’m not going to push.... much. I’m not going to push much. But you will answer...” He trailed off, thinking.  “Three questions for me.”

Stiles blinked, nodding.   “That’s fair.” It came out garbled from the huge bite of food that pooched out his cheeks, chipmunk-style. Really, Stiles felt like he was getting off pretty lightly.  Three questions in the Stilinski handbook of parenting were practically nothing. The first time that Stiles had come home reeking of weed, it had been much worse.  Well, mostly because his dad had filmed his answers to the ten questions, but still. Stiles pulled his gaze back to his dad from where it had crept down to the calm, even breathing of Zoe’s chest without him quite realizing it.

Stiles’ dad tipped back the beer, taking a long sip. For a second, Stiles had a minute of nervousness.  They had kept to the often painful honesty policy after Stiles had gotten himself almost killed for the god-knows-how-manyth time. Usually, the level of his dad’s pissed-offness could be discerned by the number of questions.  Stiles looked down at his lap, knowing that he would answer his dad honestly, no matter how much he might want to disassemble or squirm away from the no-doubt uncomfortable questions his dad needed to ask.

“Okay... so first question.” His dad carefully didn’t meet Stiles’ eyes. “Actually, it’s not so much of a question as a general knowledge statement.”

Stiles moaned a little, licking at the pepperoni grease that dribbled down the back of his hand, only realizing that his dad was waiting for a response when he met Stiles’ gaze squarely, with a tick of a raised eyebrow.

“Ah. The Don’t Bullshit Me Kid Face #25. Been a while.”

His dad snorted. Stiles chanced a small smirk.

“Cute. Okay, so I called that doctor lady that helped you after... Holy fucking shit, Stiles.” Stiles froze, his eyes wide. “Do you realize that you’ve been almost killed numerous times since you came back? Back with that car almost ran you down? At the grocery store? Fucking kidnapped off my own goddamn lawn?! You were in a car wreck, found out that the same fuckhead who killed my wife had been slipping you shit so that he could... God, I don’t think I can even say it. Then you’re hit in the head- which, let’s face it! That’s clearly the best place for you to be hit since you don’t seem to ever fucking think about the danger in which you put yourself and then  willingly go in with a complete and utter psychopath?” His dad bit his lips, forcing himself to stop speaking, eyes flicking guiltily at Zoe before squeezing them shut. The fingers around the beer bottle relaxed from their chokehold, and Stiles watched as his dad blinked away tears, tipping back his head again to drain the bottle.

They were quiet for a few minutes, neither quite meeting the other’s gaze until his dad heaved a huge sigh, clearing his throat again. “Okay, so. Second question.” They both ignored the wobbly way his vocal cords sounded. “Do I need to punch Derek for you?”

Stiles winced. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Uh. No. We didn’t... I.” He coughed. “Er. Derek was actually excellent.” Stiles felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. His dad made a face that looked like Stiles had just broken his brain. “Uh! I mean... nice. He was.. fine! About... me basically jumping him. He even... apologized.”

“Well, that was big of him.”

Stiles shoved a huge bite of pizza in his mouth. His dad visibly steeled himself to meet Stiles’ eyes. He chewed and swallowed so that he could speak. “Um. I’m not... excusing what he did. But they had some good reasons for... wow. I can’t believe I just said that.”  Holy shit. “Did you know that there was a contract out on you? On Scott’s mom? On the pack? And Morel had... He.” The thought still made him feel sick. “He wanted me because of my mom.  To breed me, dad, then kill me off.” The heartsick anger made the words come easier as he remembered Morel’s crazy words. “He’d been killing off Omegas for.. for a while. You should check with Argent about all of that. I’m sure he has a whole avalanche of information on him.”

His dad made a dark sound in the back of his throat, his face tightening.  Stiles put down the rest of his pizza, suddenly full.

“You don’t sound as mad at Derek anymore.”

Stiles flinched. “I am. He... I’ve hated him for a long time. That doesn’t just. It doesn’t just go away. But.” Stiles pinched the top of his nose, shifting a little on the hard floor. “I guess I’ve grown up or something because I’m kind of seeing the other side. And... I... they’re right. You’re right. I did throw myself into danger all the time. So fucking stupid. It’s just dumb luck that I didn’t get killed.”

His dad exhaled a long, shaky breath.  “Okay. So... I guess that brings me to my next question.  What next?”

Stiles was silent for a while.  “I. I’m not sure. I have to go back East to get my stuff if nothing else. I don’t particularly want to live in Beacon Hills, though.”

His dad stood up and made his way to the kitchen. Stiles heard the fridge open and the hiss of a soda can, then the rush of water as his dad rinsed out the beer bottles.  Stiles bit his lip.  He wanted to ask... but. But, he really didn’t have any right to ask anything of his dad, not after abandoning him for so long.  Instead, he closed his eyes, still trailing his hand through Zoe’s curls.

When his dad came back, it was to give Stiles a can of Sprite. It tasted almost too sweet after the garlic of the pizza. Stiles hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he had drained half the can.

“You know... that I’m not exactly tied here. That money that you sent me? I didn’t exactly spend it.  And I can work... anywhere. For that matter, so can you. Say... if you needed some help getting your affairs in order in Massachusetts.” Stiles’ dad coughed. “For instance.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. In a second, he had slid out from under Zoe and had thrown his arms around his dad, hugging him tightly. “That sounds... actually, that sounds pretty amazing.”

*****

Stiles made his way carefully to the overlook, his feet hardly making sound on the well-packed dirt.  He knew he’d be heard anyway, but Stiles tried his best to walk silently.  The lone figure was curled up on the rocks, staring down at the town.  It was only a half-moon, but bright enough that Stiles could see without the mag light that he’d brought, just in case.  Weird that he still remembered exactly where to step, even after two years.

Stiles licked his lips, feeling nervous.  But... really, he was out of time.  Stiles was going back East tomorrow morning, and if he didn’t do this now, then he would never do it.

“Hey, Scott.”

Even without the werewolf spidey sense, Stiles could see that every muscle of Scott’s was tense. Stiles made his way carefully over to the rocks that they’d sat on hundreds of times, on nights just like these.  

“Uh. Hi.”

“So, I guess that I should... thank you. I mean! Not guess. I should thank you.” Stiles saw Scott wince.  “Shit. I didn’t mean for this to be so awkward. But I saw you out here and thought maybe we could... talk.”

Scott turned a little towards Stiles, sitting with his legs crossed.  “Derek said that you didn’t want to see any of us.”

“I didn’t--”

“I’m sorry that I--.”

They spoke at the same time. Stiles sat down beside Scott and watched as he visibly relaxed. Scott gave him a ghost of his old grin, and to his surprise, Stiles found his own lips smiling back.   Stiles turned, staring out over the treetops.  They were quiet for quite a while, just sitting there.  

“Stiles.” Scott’s whisper was soft enough that Stiles could have ignored it if he wanted to. He was pretty shocked to discover that he didn’t, actually, want to.  He turned his head, raising an eyebrow.  

“I know that. I’m. Fuck. I’m really sorry that I... that it was my idea to...”

Stiles reacted before he thought about it.  One second he was listening to Scott hack out his gasping, feeble attempt at an apology, and the next, he was hopping up and down, waving his hand in the air like that was going to do anything to fix his aching knuckles.  

The way Scott gaped up at him in utter shock from the forest floor was pretty damn satisfying, though. So was the way he clutched his jaw... even though Stiles knew that it was probably already healing.

“You... asshole! Are you kidding me? You’re sorry that you used everything you’ve ever known about me to rip out my fucking heart?!” Stiles waved his hand again, then brought it to his mouth, sucking on his first and second knuckles. “And your stupid jaw is really fucking hard, just so you know.”

Scott opened and shut his mouth a few times like he was testing the hinge of his jaw. Stiles stomped over to him and offered his hand, huffing impatiently until Scott warily took it, allowing Stiles to pull his former best friend up to his feet.

“Apology accepted, you fucking hard-headed, uneven jawed asshat.” Stiles jerked him closer, wrapping his arms around Scott’s shoulders in a hug.

Scott made a weird sound against Stiles’ neck, hugging back tightly.  It took him a while, but the muffled “To be fair, you just punched a werewolf in the jaw” made Stiles’ snort in stifled laughter, which made Scott start giggling.  

“Jesus, you sound like the first time Allison let you see her boobs. I thought you’d never stop with the... well. It sure as hell wasn’t manly laughter.”

“Hey, man. I told you that in confidence.” Scott tried a frown, but he was smiling too hard to make it stick. Neither one of them had let go from the hug. Stiles could feel Scott’s heartbeat thundering next to his, just as nervous as they both waited to see whether or not Stiles would forgive him.

“Yeah. Right. Confidence. You posted it on Facebook, man. Not really your top ten for romantic declarations.”

Scott pulled away, and both of them pretended that the other’s eyes weren’t slightly damp.  It took a few minutes, but they both sat down on the rock again, this time much closer, the stiffness out of both of their bodies, talking a mile a minute.  Stiles’ knuckles hurt like a bitch, but he figured that it was worth it, considering.  

“Look. I wanted to thank you. You saved...”

Scott shook his head. “No. I just followed your lead, man. And your kid is completely adorable. You’re gonna have your hands full in a few years.”

Stiles snorted. “Hell, I have my hands full now. Gimmie your phone.”   Stiles watched the pleased surprise bloom on Scott’s open face as he handed it over.  “What’s your unlock code?”  Stiles rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain something when Scott ducked his head, blushing. “Oh, my God. Really?”  He entered A-L-L-I-S-O-N, then sent himself an email from Scott’s phone. “Look, I have some other stuff to do tonight. I should be heading back, you know. Before my dad sends out the search party.”

“Yeah. Want me to walk with you?” Scott lowered his voice. “I am a werewolf, you know. You’re safe with me.”

Stiles only thought about punching him again for a few seconds. Honest. He wasn’t ... quite... ready to give Scott his phone number yet, but an email address was a pretty good first step, he thought.

Apparently, so did Scott by the way he grinned down at his phone, not stopping the entire time that they walked back to where Stiles had parked. It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that they walked in step like they had done a thousand times before, shoulders just barely touching as their feet took the familiar trail back to their cars.

*****
Stiles turned the key, listening to his dad’s ancient truck chuff through the same grinding, painful sounds that it always did.  He licked his lips, gnawing nervously on his sore knuckles as he looked up at the light spilling out of the apartment.

It was weird to him that Derek’s pack didn’t live together. Scott had his own apartment across town. Stiles didn’t know where Derek and Isaac lived, only that they lived together. But Boyd and Erica lived just on the edge of town.  Stiles huffed out his breath and slid out of the car. His phone chirped, and Stiles grinned down at the message.

[photo message received]
Dad:
    --We’re good for the evening.
The picture of his dad and Zoe showed them both draped in something very pink and equally as sparkly. They had matching princess crowns, and his dad looked to be holding a very small teacup as they toasted each other. The camera had caught half of Chris Argent’s face, eyebrow raised and lips twisted into a smirk.

Stiles’ laugh was loud on the quiet street.

Stiles:
    --guess that I don’t need my curfew then.

Dad:
    --Funny, you should mention that. Look in the glovebox.
Stiles raised an eyebrow, leaning over the bench seat to pop open the glovebox. It was old and had stuck for as long as his dad had had the truck, but Stiles gave it a good knock with his fist, and it popped open. Stiles squinted down at the plastic bag, pulling it out and opening it.  There was just enough light from the truck cab to see that his dad had bought condoms, lube, and what looked like some breath mints.

Stiles shut the bag, looking around guiltily as though the gay sex police would jump out of the bushes and cite his dad for excessive use of safe sex. He shoved it back in the glove box, covering the bag with the insurance card for good measure.

Dad:
    -Just saying. Don’t be stupid, o child of mine.

Stiles:
    -Don’t ever text me at this number again. JESUS DAD.

Dad:
    -I have two years of shit to give you. I don’t know why you’re surprised.
Stiles couldn’t help the smile. He put his phone back into his pocket and locked the door, jingling the keys a little as he walked to the door. The lingering embarrassment made him forget his nervousness. The door opened before he could knock.  Stiles couldn’t help the nervous step back that he took.  Boyd looked at him calmly, then stood aside and gestured. Stiles was very careful not to touch him as he squeezed by.

Their apartment was fairly sparse. Everything was almost painfully neat, as though they really didn’t spend too much time there.

“Erica is in the kitchen.”

Stiles blinked, nodding. The kitchen was just off of the living room. Erica was there, frowning down at a coffeemaker like she had never seen one before. Stiles knew that there was no way that Erica didn’t know he was here, but he was content enough to perch on one of the breakfast nook stools and wait for her or Boyd to start the conversation. They had invited him here. Stiles was content to let them run the show.

“So... uh. Is your hand okay?” Erica sounded as nervous as Stiles felt. “I thought Der- uh.” Erica’s cheeks turned bright red. It jarred Stiles, and he stared at her nonplussed. As before with her worried about Boyd’s safety, seeing her acting  well... normal... was  completely out of what he remembered.“We heard that you’d healed up.”

“I did.  Between the doc, my dad hired, and the week of bed rest...” Stiles trailed off, drawing a figure eight on the nook countertop.  The week since he and his dad had talked had been beyond boring, but his dad had been adamant that he not try to fly back East without having a clean bill of health. “This was because I punched Scott in the face.”

Erica bit her cheek, clearly trying to fight a smile.

“Are you planning on hitting on anyone here?”

Stiles turned to Boyd.  “Uh. No. No, I am not.” He forced a small smile. “Well, not planning on it anyway.”

Boyd snorted. Stiles caught the glance Boyd and Erica shared and stood up, leaning forward slightly with his hands on the edge of the counter.  “Look. I don’t want to make this awkward or anything. Or more awkward anyway. But while I was in bed, it occurred to me that... well. That this was long overdue.” Stiles cleared his throat, not missing the way Erica and Boyd shifted so that their hands were touching as they stood across from him, Boyd leaning against the stove and Erica leaning against the fridge.

“Scott was first, and now you two.”

“Are you going to see Derek next?” Erica didn’t meet his gaze, looking instead down at her feet.

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He didn’t. He honestly didn’t know if he wanted to see Derek or not. Derek hadn’t made his way to the safehouse, and Stiles hadn’t made his way to the Hale property. Stiles wasn’t sure if he and Derek were at an impasse or if they were avoiding each other, and Stiles had just missed the memo.

Everything was quiet for a few seconds while Stiles, Erica, and Boyd all listened to the coffee drip into the coffee pot.

Stiles took a shaky breath. All the angry stuff he thought he’d want to say just didn’t seem as important now. He hadn’t expected to forgive Scott, or Erica, or Boyd. And he didn’t think he had quite forgiven them. There was a lot to overlook, after all. “Look. What you guys did. Even though you were acting on Derek’s orders, it was a really, really shitty thing to do.”

They both nodded in unison, careful to keep their faces blank. Stiles could almost see them forcing themselves to not react with any emotion that would bring their wolves out-, leaving Stiles with the advantage. It was something lesser members of Ethel’s pack frequently did to show respect to a member in higher standing. It threw him off, leaving Stiles completely floored. He took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck, shifting his weight back further on the stool. “And it’s not like I’m going to invite you over for pints of Ben and Jerrys to discuss our feelings over everything, but. I sort of get why you did it.” He did. Kind of. Even though he still had dreams of how Erica had sounded as he stood there, and the cold disdain in Boyd’s voice; the disgust in the way that they’d told Stiles about the bet... he did “get” why the two of them had done it. “It just...”

“Sucked.”

Stiles blinked, nodding at Boyd.  “Yeah.”   

“Do you want to stay for coffee?” Erica blurted it out, her wince at her verbal awkwardness, causing some of the tension to bleed out of the kitchen.  Stiles appreciated the tenseness in her voice. He felt the same way.

“Nah. But here.” Stiles bent over and scrawled his email address on the back of a water bill. “Keep in touch, okay? I don’t know how long I’ll be back East, but I wanted to say goodbye before I left. Thank you for helping me get my daughter back.”

“You call us anytime for backup.” Boyd held out his hand, and Stiles was shocked when he saw himself grip and shake it.  He and Erica had never really been close enough to give each other a hug (besides the fact that Stiles was never 100% sure that she wouldn’t bite his face off if he tried), but they did trade smiles.

Stiles gave a little wave and showed himself out of the apartment. It was like with Scott and nothing like with Scott. Terrible and awkward, and mostly sincere, but regardless, Stiles felt much lighter as he jogged back to his dad’s truck.  He’d gone there thinking that he wanted an apology from the two of them... but it occurred to him that well. He didn’t need their apology. It wouldn’t change anything. Stiles knew that the two of them had been ordered to participate in Scott and Derek’s little deception. It was beyond shitty, and it sucked, but.

Maybe it was time to let some of that shit go.

****
Stiles:   
    - Need advice.

Harper:
    -?
    -Am I still picking you up at the airport?

- Wait, what kind of advice? Because I want you to know that I don’t feel up to helping you with any issues involving your dick.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  He stared down at his phone, literally pulled over on the side of the road.  Turning left would take him to the Argent’s safe house.  Turning right would take him towards the Hale property. Stiles bit his lip.

Stiles:
    -I think I’m going to do something really stupid.

Harper:
    -?????

Stiles:

-Nevermind. I think I’ve figured it out.

Stiles turned to the left, ignoring the way his throat and gut seemed to have switched places. It didn’t take him long to get to the safehouse, and it was easy enough to ignore the way his dad raised his eyebrows in surprise at the way Stiles just waved and ran to the back of the small apartment, shutting the door behind him with a small click.  Zoe’s squeal was muffled. Not even his dad’s gravely response made Stiles smile. He flopped down on the bed, staring up blindly at the ceiling. His phone buzzed, and Stiles glanced down at the screen, biting at his lip again.

Dad:
    - You okay, kid?

Was he? Saying goodbye to Scott and the other two wolves had felt... well. He’d felt like he had been in control of the situation, instead of... well. Victimized by it. By them.  But even with all of that, Derek was the main problem. Everything had been so fucked up that he couldn’t decide whether what he was feeling-  what he thought he was feeling-  was real or not.  Was he still angry? Hurt? Turned-on? Grateful? Nervous? Lovesick?

Stiles knew that no matter how much he might want to just get in his dad’s old truck and drive over to Derek’s to see if maybe... maybe he wasn’t completely imagining all of this... he couldn’t. How could he try to start some kind of relationship (assuming that was what Derek actually wanted- which Stiles couldn’t exactly be sure of, given the craziness of the past few weeks) with Derek when he didn’t trust him?

And yeah, it had been over two years ago since he’d left Beacon Hills, but that didn’t mean that Stiles could just... toss all that hurt away. The thing was, he didn’t trust Derek, or Scott, or Erica, or Boyd.  He didn’t think he could completely trust them again.

Stiles sighed and rolled over on his side.

Stiles:
    -Yep. Want me to give her her bath?

Dad:
    - No. I don’t mind. Trying to soak up what I can while I can.

That was another thing.  Stiles might be nervous about moving back to Massachusetts- there was no fucking way he was ever living in his house again- but the fact remained that he had things to tie up. As much as they both might want him to, Stiles’ dad couldn’t just drop everything and move across the country.

So a tentative plan B had his dad wrapping up everything here in California and moving out at the end of the month. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what he and Zoe would do. Somehow, staying with Harper didn’t feel right either.

Oh well. He had some time to think about it.

Stiles rolled over onto his back, listening to Zoe’s high-pitched talking. He grinned a little at the tone. Her ‘but-I-need-just-one-more-story-please!’ tone of voice was as familiar to Stiles as his own.  He had almost fallen asleep when his phone chirped again, causing Stiles to blink down at it rather stupidly.

Lydia?

He hadn’t even seen Lydia since he’d been here, although they’d texted back and forth a few times. It had never been as big of a deal. Danny had set him up with an untraceable identity (Danny swore by it, and Stiles figured they were all too scared of Lydia for it not to be what it said on the tin). Stiles didn’t email very frequently, but he had kept in touch. Mostly with Danny, Lydia and Jackson had no issues putting in their two cents when necessary. Stiles often thought that he couldn’t have managed to stay in hiding without the three of them working together.

He’d never asked just how Danny had managed to get him the fake ID and social security card. Stiles wasn’t entirely certain he really wanted to know. He was fairly sure that they could head their own branch of a criminal ring- or work for the CIA between the three of them. Both were equally feasible.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: What, no sweet goodbyes?

So okay. A little birdie tells me that you’re leaving tomorrow. Are you going back as John or as Stiles? Danny can make that happen for you... just need to know what you have planned. Let us know if you need help packing.

Stiles stared down at his phone. He had literally been so wrapped up in his own drama that he was not spared a thought for who he was going to go back as. He blinked. That was something to think about. On the one hand, there was no need for him to stay in hiding anymore. He had no one to hide from. Morel was... gone. Both his dad and Derek and his pack knew... well.  Stiles winced as he gnawed on his chapped lower lip.  

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: Re: What, no sweet goodbyes?

Actually been a little busy. Did your little birdie tell you that? I am exhausted and ready to go to sleep, but I will email you from the plane. That’s something I need to think about.

There was barely a minute before Stiles got a reply:

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: Re: Re: What, no sweet goodbyes?

Take as long as you need. Sweet dreams, Stiles. Fly safe.

Stiles got up to make his way to the bathroom, idly picking up the toys that Zoe had left strewn all over the place. In the week that he’d been recovering, his dad hadn’t exactly been shy in buying her any and everything that she even glanced at, and Stiles hadn’t been able to find it in his heart to tell him to stop.  It was going to be hard enough driving to the airport tomorrow. Stiles had insisted on doing it himself, with the least amount of fuss possible.

He took a shower and packed up what he could, leaving out what he and Zoe would need for the morning. Stiles didn’t hear anything from his dad’s bedroom, so he walked as quietly as he could back to the bedroom he’d been sleeping in.  Maybe it was stupid, but Stiles thought that Derek might be waiting for him in the bed when he got there. If this were some kind of movie- they would kiss, and makeup and everything would be perfect—happy endings for all.

But real life didn’t work that way.

***

“And you’re sure you have your phone? And it’s charged?”

Stiles frowned down at the rental car.  He’d thought that a small one would be fine... that he and Zoe couldn’t have possibly accumulated so much stuff in the short amount of time that they’d been here.  They were just driving to the airport, after all. Stiles moved one of Zoe’s suitcases and tilted it on his side so that he could fit in a bag full of books that his dad had bought into the tiny hatchback... and still leave enough room to see out of the back.

His dad had offered to drive them to the airport, but Stiles had thought it would be better for everyone if they just said goodbye here. Less trauma for Zoe.  Hell. Less trauma for him.  He’d already gotten goodbye emails from Lydia, Danny, Boyd and Erica, and Scott. Allison had stopped by to give him a hug, which okay that had been a little weird, and bring by maple syrup for the pancakes. Stiles had been too under-caffeinated to decipher the look she had given him after staring significantly at her dad, then at his dad placidly sitting down to breakfast together, but it had made her eyebrows look like they were going to twitch off of her face.  

When he had gotten it,---because oh my god, really, his dad? and Chris Argent?!---he’d almost choked to death on his short stack of pancakes, Allison had just shaken her head, staring at him like he was too stupid to live, then made a hasty exit with her dad on an excuse so thin, Stiles was surprised that Zoe hadn’t picked up on it. Still, he and his dad had managed to avoid the rather large elephant in the room, focusing instead on getting everything packed and ready for Stiles and Zoe to leave.

“Yeah. I have everything.” Stiles frowned down at the car, slamming the hatchback with more force than was probably necessary. “Well. I better do one last walk-through just to be sure.”  The look on his dad’s face said plenty.

And okay, maybe he was stalling a bit.  Stiles just couldn’t believe that Derek wasn’t even... that he...  he blew out a frustrated breath. No. This was stupid. This was better, really. A clean break of all the drama and emotionalism, right?  No worry about Derek deciding to confuse Zoe with his presence. No worry about Derek deciding to confuse Stiles with his presence.  

“You know that Derek quit, right?”

Stiles jumped, whirling around and staring at his dad with his hand over his heart. “What?! Jeez! Where’s Zoe?”

“She’s having a goodbye grandpa snack in the kitchen. I just thought... you should know. That Derek quit working for me.”

“Why would that matter?” Stiles spied a stray sock and got down on his knees, grateful for the excuse to ignore the look on his dad’s face.

“Stiles.”

Stiles winced.

“You know that I hired him to go get you, but what you don’t know is that he was sitting there in the office with me when you called. His face, Stiles. When he heard you on the phone?” His dad cleared his throat. “And you probably know that he refused actually to let me pay him.  He was calling in favors left and right for an old friend of his to fly him across the country so that he could be there so fast—the Damndest thing.

Stiles’ throat hurt. Maybe that was why he sounded so wrecked when he was finally able to speak. “Why. Why are you telling me this, dad?” Stiles watched his dad’s familiar face through eyes that might have been a little blurry.

“Hm. Well, I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes watching you walk around this five-room apartment, looking for everything that you damn well know has been packed up for a good two hours now, just kind of ...hoping.”

Damn investigatively-trained parents. “You sound like you want him to show up.”

His dad shrugged. “I want what you want, kid,”

Stiles forced a grin.  “Yeah.  As soon as I figure out exactly what that is, I’ll be sure to let you know.” His dad laughed, and Stiles took a step forward, hugging him tightly.  “Thanks, dad. For everything.”

His dad’s voice was a little grave when he responded. “Yeah. Now enough stalling. You two have a plane to catch.”  His dad’s hugs smelled awesome, although Stiles couldn’t help but notice that he was using a different aftershave. They hugged each other a little too tightly, and Stiles took a deep, shaky breath so that he wouldn’t start blubbering all over the place. He was surprised that he didn’t have an aneurysm when he recognized the aftershave.  Stiles pulled back, narrowing his eyes up at his dad’s face.  “New aftershave?” he asked, only to bite the inside of his cheek when his dad’s face flooded with color.

“Uh. Er. Yeah. Pretty new.”

Stiles’ lips twitched. “Hmm. I’m going to go out on a leap of deductive faith here and assume that the little “gift” that you supposedly left for me in your glovebox wasn’t originally meant for me, was it?”

It was his dad’s turn to avoid Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his lips at the way his dad cleared his throat, obviously summing up his thoughts for a Big Announcement.  He took a step back and held up his hand.  “No worries, dad. It smells nice. It’s good... aftershave. I mean, I’ve never wanted to try it or anything, but I think that... particular scent is long overdue.”

The metaphor was starting to get a little ridiculous. Somewhere, Stiles just knew that Allison was cackling evilly.

His dad’s face still looked like he’d been storing up fifteen years' worth of blushing for just this moment, but he turned and walked to the kitchen, cleaning up Zoe’s hands and face from the apples she’d been happily munching on.  “Okay, kiddo. Ready to go and see Harper and Miz Ethel?” His voice was still a little tight, but Stiles didn’t call him on it. Plenty of time for that later. It was a long flight, after all.

They’d chosen to play that up rather than focus on the fact that Zoe was leaving her grandpa and all the new people she’d met. Zoe reached out for Stiles’ hand as they walked outside again, his dad standing there a little awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, staring at Zoe with a sad look on his face. Stiles sighed, guilt crawling through his gut.

“None of that now.” His dad grinned. It was only a little forced. Stiles leaned over and buckled Zoe in the car seat, stepping out of the way so that his dad could say goodbye. Stiles jangled the car keys in his hand, taking another look around at the quiet, residential street.  

“Okay?”

“Yep.”  Stiles walked around to the back of the car.

“You have your tickets? ID? Some extra cash for...”

“Yeah, dad. We’re fine. I’ll call you when we land, okay?”

“You better.”

Stiles saluted, then hugged his dad once more. His dad turned to stand on the little stoop- what the apartment complex laughingly referred to as a front porch. He knew his dad only planned on staying here another few days- that his house would be ready and habitable again once the army of Argents got through ‘de-Moreling’ it.  Even the thought made Stiles uncomfortable. Morel had only had access to his dad’s house in Beacon Hills for a few days. He’d had Stiles’ house in Mass for years.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he could even stomach the thought of sleeping in his house again after everything.  

Stiles went around to his side of the car, sliding in and making a slight face at the annoying chiming sound the car made with the open door. Zoe laughed and turned to wave at her grandpa.  Stiles started the car and poked his head out the window.  “Don’t look so bummed! It’s only for a few weeks, right?”

His dad smiled, waving.

Stiles smirked with his head still out of the window. “Time for some more aftershave, I think, dad. You’re looking a little frowny.”

His dad’s wave turned into more of a one-finger salute.

Stiles cracked up, popped his head back into the car, and put it in reverse.  

“Look, Daddy! Look! I can wave with one finger too!”

“Oh, jeez,” Stiles muttered under his breath. “Thanks, dad.”  He watched as his dad turned to go back inside, manfully ignoring the way Zoe sat in the back seat, using one hand to position her other hand, flicking off the stuffed dog his dad had given her. There was probably some irony in that, but Stiles was too tired to pick it out. He had just put the rental car in drive when he saw him. At first, Stiles thought it was just a shadow- a trick of the light-framed perfectly in the small space of the back window.

Derek stood half-hidden behind a tree, staring at Stiles’ rental car... watching them drive away.  He was dressed in the familiar jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket, his jaw just asset as it had been when Derek had driven them to the safehouse. Stiles felt his mouth pop open as he watched Derek raise one hand in a silent wave goodbye, holding the pose as Stiles drove slowly down the street.  

For one second, Stiles thought of stopping the car. He could picture it: He’d jump out of the driver’s seat, and somehow Derek would just be there, and their lips would meet, trembling and uncertain, and...they’d live happily ever after.

Zoe’s bright laugh in the small confines of the car jarred him back to reality. Derek was still standing there, not so much hiding behind the tree as keeping himself out of the way. His hand was still raised.

“Daddy? Are we going home now?”

“Yeah, baby. We sure are.”

With one final glance at Derek, Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath and put his own hand out of the window, acknowledging the goodbye with a wave of his own.

Stiles bit his lip, surprised to find that he was smiling.

Chapter Text

For some reason, it didn’t surprise Stiles that Isaac was waiting at the airport, holding up a sign that said ‘CUTEST GIRL IN THE WORLD (and dad).’  Zoe was a dead weight on his hip, drooling slightly into his chest. He was pretty sure he’d run over the feet of at least twelve people with his suitcase, but he still smiled when he saw Isaac’s bright grin. His brain was so tired that he couldn’t focus. He knew there was something wrong with the fact that Isaac was standing there, but he couldn’t quite put it together.

“Hiya!”

Stiles began to reply but yawned instead, his jaw cracking.  Isaac reached forward to take his suitcase, crumpling up the paper sign and tossing it into the trash can.

“Rough trip?”

“Three-no. Wait. I forgot about Atlanta. Four stopovers.”

Isaac did that thing where he seemed three sizes bigger, forcing the rest of the exhausted travelers to give them a fairly wide berth of space.  Frankly, right now? Stiles thought that was more impressive than the super-healing and turning furry once a month. He shifted Zoe a little and sighed.

“You must have really pissed off the Airport gods.”

Stiles smirked a little, remembering the nasty trick he’d pulled on Derek when they’d flown out to California.  Isaac gave him a weird look but didn’t ask as they went to claim all of Stiles’ baggage and go to the parking lot.  Stiles may or may not have drooled on the window, so tired that it didn’t occur to him that Harper was supposed to be picking him up from the airport until they were through all of the Logan traffic and on I-93.

“Hey... not that I’m complaining or anything, but why isn’t Harper here?”

“Oh. Well, I could tell you....”

Stiles looked over at him, frowning at the fact his sunglasses hid Isaac’s eyes.  He couldn’t tell anything from Isaac’s face.  “Yeah. That would be why I asked.”

“Hm. But then I’d have to kill you. And not even joking, man, Harper’s girl is like ten times scarier than you will ever be. She wanted it to be a surprise... so it’s a surprise.”

Stiles contemplated pouting but was afraid he’d look too much like Zoe if he did. Traffic was a bitch, as it often was, and it took half an hour to get to Stiles’ neighborhood. To say that he was shocked that Isaac didn’t take the right exit was somewhat of an understatement.  But when he pulled up to a completely unfamiliar house, confusion warred with his shock. Curiosity won, though, and when Harper and Jenna jogged down the steps after Isaac turned off the car, he was willing enough to be led around.

The three-way hug (four when Zoe wormed her way towards her Harper, attacking her kneecaps with no mercy) was slightly hysterical. Jenna wasn’t much for hugging, but Harper was all but crying, having to pull away and sniff every few seconds until she got ahold of herself.

“So. Um. Is this your new place?” Stiles hadn’t heard of Harper and Jenna moving, but to be fair, he’d been a little bit out of it lately.

“Nope. It’s yours.” Harper’s grin was as wide as she stared at him.

Stiles gaped at her.

“Come on... you didn’t think that we’d - or that Alpha of yours- would let you go back to the creeperville version of Amityville Horror, did you?”

That Alpha of--? Stiles looked from Harper to Jenna, down to Zoe, and over to Isaac. His eyes narrowed. “You’re here.”

“Yeah...”

“No. I mean, you’re here.” Stiles flashed back to Derek’s absence from his life during the week after Zoe was found. To the way, he’d just sort of stood there, making sure that Stiles saw him as he left. Stiles huffed out a sigh, looking up at the sky. “Hypothetically, how long would it take to negotiate a Beta from another pack to come into a local pack’s territory... across the country?”

Jenna snorted.

“About as long as it takes to fly someone from a rival pack across the country, have them pack up another person’s house and move them into a rental property. Is question time done? ‘Cuz Sherlock is on, and I’m not missing it for your crazy-ass drama. Plus, I made a sausage dip.”

Stiles shook his head, ignoring the matching snorts from Isaac and Harper. Somehow the idea of the two of them working together was just .... terrifying. Utterly terrifying.

His brain and his heart gave a funny sort of hiccup when he thought of Derek out here, helping Isaac pack up his house and move his stuff so that everything would be settled for his and Zoe’s return. Stiles reached down for Zoe’s hand and started towards his new house. “Thanks, Jen. You know how much I love that stuff. It’s like a heart attack and an orgasm in my mouth.” Stiles sighed, his stomach growling a little.  

“Daddy? What’s an orgasm?”

***
The light from the monitor cast a creepy glow over the bed. Stiles sat with his back propped up against the headboard, staring down at the blank email. Stiles took a deep breath, listening to the almost silent sounds of the small rental house.  He read over what he had written, deleted a few words, then frowned and changed ‘definitely’ to ‘definitely.’  He was twenty-one years old, had a small child, had an IQ that was off the charts, had created and designed his own ap, but couldn’t spell ‘definitely.’

Maybe an email wasn’t the best medium for communication. But it was the one that he felt most comfortable with, so that was what he was using.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

June 24th,  2018  14:53

Derek,

Okay so, maybe I’m a little confused. No. That’s not true. I’m definitely confused. You are very confusing. I guess that I should start by saying ‘thank you.’ Well, typing, thank you. I guess my dad or someone told you that I was nervous about coming back here.  It’s a weird feeling. I was pretty happy here before. But now I don’t know. I guess you’ve already heard that my dad was planning on moving across the country with me- but now I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.  It doesn’t feel right here anymore. I expected everything to just go back to normal, but it hasn’t.

Zoe misses you.  Would it be okay if she called you sometime?

Stiles bit his lip again, and read the last paragraph, deleted it, then undid his action and brought it back.  Shit. Shit, this was so. Why was this so hard?

Zoe misses you. Would it be okay if she called you sometime? She’s settled in pretty well. The house is different, but we go to Harper, and Jenna’s a lot.  I think she’s confused by Isaac being here, but she’s doing okay.  I’ve started back with her playgroups. She’s playing with some local werewolf cubs. There are some humans there too- which I have to say is a little weird for everyone involved, but Ethel put her foot down, and that was pretty much that.  Isaac and Harper both take turns going with me just in case. Zoe is fine- the other weres can smell that she’s powerful.  So we’re keeping busy, but she talks about ‘her friend Derek’ a lot.

I don’t know if you want to read this or not. Hell, I’m not even sure that I want to type it, but she’s not the only one that misses you. I was so hurt that you didn’t call me or come to see me, that it didn’t occur to me that I could have just as easily picked up a phone and called you. Anyway. We do need to talk. Or email, if you’re more comfortable.  Hope to talk to you soon.

PS-  Sourwolf? I can’t believe you remember that!

Stiles

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

June 24th,  2018  15:29

Stiles,

You don’t need to thank me, Stiles. I was glad that I could help but sorry that I couldn’t do more for you while you were recovering at Argent’s place. I thought that it would be better to stay out of the way so that I didn’t screw things up any further. What do you mean by not going back to normal? The house is just a rental. We can find another one if you and Zoe if it’s uncomfortable. If you decide you want to live somewhere else, please just let Isaac know.  He will be there for the rest of the month. Zoe is amazing. Beautiful. So fucking smart. She’s so amazing, Stiles. I would say that I can’t believe how great you are with her, but I don’t want to sound like an ass. I can believe it because I got the (forgive the pun) beta version. You took care of all of us. I think we were all surprised at how quickly it all fell apart when you weren’t there to take care of us anymore. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I will follow your lead on this. I’ve been trying not to get in your way. We never got a chance to talk about a lot of things. When should I call Zoe? I haven’t exactly been around a lot of cubs before, but she makes it pretty easy. Honestly, I feel lucky that you’re even letting me be in her life at all.  As for the sourwolf thing- of course, I remember.  I remember everything about you. And as nicknames go, it beats the hell out of fang face.

Derek

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

June 24th,  2018  15:50

Fangface,

You have my number, so call me, maybe? You can call anytime, but I think she’d like to hear your voice before she goes to bed, after I give her her story.  Is 7:30 okay?

Stiles

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

June 24th,  2018  15: 58

I think that you’re just supposed to delete it. If I get that song stuck in my head, then I might have to rip your throat out.  I’ll call tonight.

***
(Three months later....)

“And then Michael told me that only babies cry! I didn’t mean to bite him, but he was a big... a big... stupid meanie head!”

“Language, Zoe.”

Stiles hid his grin behind his hand. Even from across the country and through the tinny speakerphone, Derek’s voice had just the right amount of a disapproving lilt that if Zoe had had a tail, it would have curled in a little at hearing it.

“But!”

“No buts. I know your daddy doesn’t let you use bad language like that. Now take a deep breath and tell me why this... Michael  made you cry.”

Stiles bit his lip, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because.” Zoe’s chin jutted out in her mini-Derek impression. She sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, holding the phone in her lap. The Tiana doll that Derek had bought her never left her bed. She slept with that, and the bunny Stiles’ dad had bought her every night.

“Because...?”  

Zoe growled low in her throat. Sure, it was more Simba than Mufassa, but it still held an edge of frustration that made the fine hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck stand up. “Because! He called my daddy a breeder!”

There were a few beats of silence from the other end of the phone.  Derek cleared his throat.  “And where does this boy live? Do you happen to know his parents’ names?”

Stiles started to open his mouth, but Zoe jumped in with the rest, and for just a second, Stiles couldn’t make himself move. He shut his eyes.

“--and then he called daddy a really bad word, and I bit him. Hard. And I’m not sorry!”

There was another silence on the other end of the phone.

“Derek?” Zoe’s hand crept up to curl one strand of hair around her finger.

“Yes, Zoe?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Stiles grimaced a little, wanting to step out of earshot but figuring that would be really, really cowardly.

“Of course you can.”

“If you’re my dad, then why don’t you live with us?”

Stiles winced at the crash on the other end, mouthing ‘surprise!’ at the phone.

“Uh--” Derek’s voice sounded choked.

“Don’t you love me?”

Okay, this was just painful.  Stiles took a step forward and made grabby hands for the phone. “Of course Derek loves you, Zoe. That’s what daddies do. Now you know it’s past your bedtime. We can call Derek tomorrow.”

Zoe’s grin was pure Stilinski. She kissed the phone, the same way that she did for her grandpa. “Goodnight... dad. I love you.”  Derek made another strangled-sounding sound. She hung up before Stiles could get to her. Her tiny features were completely smug when she handed her dad the phone with a little tick of her eyebrow that clearly said, ‘well? Now that’s set up. It’s your turn.’  Stiles was caught between laughter, tears, and applauding at the manipulative way his daughter was able to completely wrap everyone in her life around her little finger.  

He tucked her in, shut off the light, and made himself wait an extra half an hour until he was sure that Zoe was asleep before calling Derek back.  In the three months that they’d been communicating, they’d gotten in this habit of Derek calling Zoe, then he and Stiles talking for a bit before hanging up. It had started out at a rather stilted once a week, then three times, then almost every night at 7:30 on the dot, Stiles’ cell would ring.

“Hey.”

“You. You...”

“Okay, I just want to say in my defense that I probably could have handled that better. But she was upset. I guess that little toerag asked her why if she was so special, didn’t she have two parents and she was crying so much that I couldn’t help but just tell her because she loves you so much and she didn’t even know that you were her other dad so I just. I just told her even though I know that we haven’t really talked about that at all, and oh my god, okay, I’m shutting up now.”

“Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles flopped down on his bed, staring up at his ceiling, sighing. “Don’t thank me, Derek. I should have done it sooner.”

“No... actually, considering everything, you really didn’t have to do it at all.”

They were quiet at each end of the phone. Usually, they talked about everything that had been happening - Derek’s attempts to change his pack dynamics; Stiles telling him about his new game and the buzz it had created from the production company- but now they were both quiet. There was something that Stiles needed to tell Derek, but this wasn’t the time. He couldn’t exactly say when their silences had gone from awkward to comfortable, but it was nice enough that he didn’t want to screw it up.

“Stiles?”

“Hmm?” Stiles shifted a little on the bed, restless.

“Your heartbeat just spiked. What’s wrong?”

“You can hear?!--- What am I saying. Of course, you can hear that. On a cell phone. From across the country.” Stiles huffed out a breath. “It’s nothing. I didn’t want to ruin your hallmark moment there.”

“You’re hilarious.” Derek waited for a few beats. Stiles could picture him maybe glaring at the phone, wanting to just order Stiles to tell him what was wrong, but forcing himself to be patient. Actually, that probably wasn’t very fair.  According to both Isaac and his dad, Derek had been doing really well lately. He’d been calmer—more in control.

“It doesn’t... matter, really.”

Derek was silent.

Stiles huffed another breath. “It’s just... my heat. Ethel had me see a doctor, and they did some bloodwork to see what was wrong. My cycle was all over the place as.. er.. you may remember.” Stiles coughed, awkwardly.

Derek did a terrible job of trying to sound casual when he asked, “Oh?”

“Yeah. I guess that I did a number on myself with the suppressants. Mixing that with what that dickhead gave me was.. uh.  He thinks that my next few heats will be really intense, then eventually I’ll sort of calm down and be “normal. “ Whatever normal is.” Stiles paused, waiting to see if Derek would say anything.

“Oh? How often do they occur? If uh. If you don’t mind my asking.”

“About once every month and a half. My last one was.. jeez.”

Derek was strangely silent.

“Derek? Did I lose you?”

“No,” he bit out.

Stiles frowned at his phone, then went back over his conversation in his head. He rolled his eyes. “My last heat was... well. Ethel has this room, right? And I had them lock me in until it was over.” Stiles waited a second.  “Just... me.”

The whoosh of breath couldn’t have been more obvious.  “Oh. Okay... that’s uh.”

Stiles shook his head. “I have to thank you. For the idea, I mean. Of flying solo, as it were. It’s not the most comfortable thing- and oh my god, the jokes from Harper are fucking annoying as hell, but. I don’t want anyone right now.”  That was a lie. Stiles frowned, his heart thumping in his chest. He knew that Derek could hear it, and somehow that made it worse. Or better. He wasn’t exactly sure. “Well... that’s not ....entirely....true. Mostly. The person I want isn’t available.”

“The... person?” Derek’s voice was low.  

“You live three thousand miles away from me, Derek. That’s kind of far to er.. come. For a booty call.”

Stiles winced again, wishing that he had grown out of the neverending awkwardness that was his mouth when he just blurted things out.

Derek swallowed so hard that Stiles could hear the click in his throat.  “If you want me.... to help with. To get you through your uh. Thing.”

Stiles licked his lips. “They have vibrators for that. To-” he mimicked Derek- “‘get me thru my..uh. Thing.’ I kind of want more than that, Derek.” He paused for a moment, still not sure what was coming out of his mouth. “But don’t get me wrong. Your dick is very nice.”

Derek snorted.

The silence stretched again between them, filling up the miles. Stiles tried to ignore his stupid heartbeat, tried to ignore the eight hundred other ways he could have told Derek what he wanted. It was so scary, so absolutely fucking terrifying to put himself out there after everything that had happened. Derek had been almost militantly cautious about waiting for Stiles to decide what Stiles wanted. He hadn’t pushed. He hadn’t insisted, or demanded, or done anything else but do his very best to rebuild some of the trust he’d shattered so long ago.

When Derek finally spoke, his voice was so low that Stiles almost didn’t hear it. “I’ve had two relationships in my life, Stiles.  My first was... it was bad. Kate made sure that I knew that it was my fault... that my family was killed. That I was the reason, they were murdered. She would laugh about it.” He trailed off for a few minutes, obviously gathering his thoughts. “What I did to you? That couple of months after you got shot was. I’d never... been like that. It was.. sweet. Laura always said that my heart was too big not to fall in love with someone.  And until then, I thought she was full of shit.  Then Morel happened. Oh yeah... it was easy enough to tell me that I had a ‘reason.’ That I was doing the right thing by getting rid of you in a way that... that would be sure you were safe. That your dad would be okay, and Scott’s mom and everyone would be perfectly a-ok because of my ‘brilliant plan.’  I was stupid and twisted and jealous... so fucking jealous at even the thought that you would.” Derek cut himself off mid-sentence like he couldn’t even think of finishing the thought.

Stiles was gripping the phone so hard that he was surprised that it didn’t crack.

Derek took a deep breath. “So the idea. Even the chance of an idea that somehow you would forgive me enough to even allow me to touch you again... it’s a lot to process. That you might forgive me... when I haven’t forgiven myself... It’s unreal. ”

Stiles was silent.

“Stiles?”  

Stiles took a shaky breath.. aware that his smile was so big that it was actually hurting his jaw.

“Uh. Stiles? You know that I only admit to emotions once every ten years or so, so...”

“Yeah. I’ve seen you with your daughter, buddy. Gonna have to call bullshit on the ten years or so thing.” Stiles knew he sounded ridiculous like his birthday and Christmas had all come at once.

“My daughter. Jesus, Stiles. Unreal doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Derek was quiet for a minute or so. “So.. now what?”

“Hmm. Well, now we go to plan B.”

“Plan... B?”

Stiles nodded, then realized that Derek couldn’t hear him nod and shook his head at his own stupidity. “Yep. I have... actually. I have a couple of calls to make. Do you mind if I let you go?”
Stiles could almost hear the what the fuck emanating from the other end of the phone and winced again. “Er. I know that my timing isn’t the best after our Oprah moment, but I promise that it’s relevant to this conversation.”

“Oh. Well, do you want me to call--”

“Tomorrow? Of course! Zoe would be crushed if you didn’t. Look, I really have to. To go. Oh my god!! Holy shit, I can’t believe this. It’s perfect. It’s actual perfection, and I can’t even believe that. But only if I call like, now. Oh my god, I have to go, Derek. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye!!”

Stiles hung up quickly- ignoring the slightly high-pitched squawk of complaint from Derek’s end of the line. It only took him a few minutes to get ahold of himself. For the first time in forever, Stiles knew exactly what he wanted.

***
Stiles:
    -Hey. How’s the aftershave?

Dad:

-Hilarious. How’s your.. well, I was trying to think of some kind of dog joke, but It wasn’t working for me. What’s up?

Stiles:

-Need your help with something. It’s a surprise. A big surprise. An epic surprise of awesomeness that will shock and stun all who know of it. Which would be you. And me. And possibly your aftershave.

Dad:
    -Oh, dear god.

Stiles:
    -Remember how I told you I was making a new game?

Dad:
    -The kids game?

Stiles:

-Yeah. Well, the company is based about forty-five minutes from Beacon Hills. They... they want to pay to move Zoe and me out there. Um. They offered me a job, dad.

Dad:

-HOLY SHIT.

-AL:SKSDL:KASD

-Yes, I just keysmashed. Don’t judge me.

Stiles:
    -Well, the secret part is...

Dad:

-Trained in investigative methods, remember? I gotcha, kid. You’re... sure about this? Chris and I had things in place to move out there. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something crazy.

Stiles:
    -Yep. Completely sure. Dad... I want this. It will be a good thing. For all of us.

Dad:

-This is Chris. I’m not sure what you just said, but Mark is blubbing and generally jumping around like my daughter when she was asked to prom. I should thank you. You know I’m the one that gets to kiss it all better, right?

-  ;-)

Stiles:
    -oh my fucking god. I’m done.

***
Stiles licked his lips, taking one last glance around the house. Zoe’s toys? Check. Put away in her own playroom. Food? Check. He was too nervous to cook, but he ordered enough Chinese food to feed... well. A wolf. He’d already called and wished Zoe goodnight, cautioning her not to eat all of Grandpa’s ice cream in one night.

They’d been back in California for two months. In all of that time, Derek and Stiles hadn’t been alone. There’d been some hugs and a few kisses that had broken off a little awkwardly when Zoe had caught them, but neither of them had any real desire to move too quickly.  

Stiles had been through one heat. It turned out that one of the things Isaac had been asked to do while he was in Massachusetts was to pick Ethel’s brain on how to contain an Omega in heat.  The result was a room in Stiles’ house that was doubly enforced and sound-proof. That hadn’t been his best week. The doctors had been right about his physiology being more intense after his attempt to stifle it for so long. Zoe had stayed with Derek for the week. Stiles’ dad and Chris had elected to stay with Stiles, although even with the sound-proofing, the two of them had looked a little wild-eyed when Stiles had emerged from the panic room, shaking and blurry-eyed with his need for sleep.

It was something that none of them talked about. A non-week. Poof. It didn’t exist. Stiles shivered. He wasn’t even close to his heat now, though. Now? He just wanted Derek.

Probably he should be more embarrassed by his plan to jump Derek’s body three seconds after he walked in the door- but this ‘slow and easy’ shit was for the birds. Stiles was sick of taking things slowly. Derek had made it clear that them having sex again was Stiles’ decision. Well? He’d made his damn decision about three seconds after he’d heard his daughter ask Derek if he loved her or not.

The doorbell rang, startling Stiles into knocking over the bottle of soda he’d put in the fridge. He cursed, caught it, and stuck it in the back, making a mental note to let it settle before trying to open it.  He took a deep, calming breath and went to answer his door.

“Hi, Derek!”

“Stiles.” Derek stepped inside, cocking his head. “Where’s Zoe?”

“Zoe is with her grandfather.” Stiles took a small step forward, nervously licking his lips. “For the whole weekend.”

“Oh? Well, I brought a few DVDs if you wanted to wa---mmmmmph!”

Stiles liked a lot of things about Derek. He knew that Derek might be kind of emotionally stunted, but for the most part (and those exceptions were huge and glaring and.. usually scary.), he was a nice guy. He made a mean salsa. He could dance the macarena, although Stiles was assured that if he ever showed anyone the video of that- no one would ever find his body. He was absolutely, fiercely loyal to his pack, Stiles and Zoe.  

And when he made up his mind about something, there was no shaking it.

Stiles back hit the door with a muffled thunk, Derek pressing so closely that Stiles could feel the heat of him through his clothes. The DVDs went flying with a muffled clatter. Derek’s mouth was hot on his, and Stiles couldn’t help the shuddering moan that broke through his throat. Derek made a low, dark sound, hitching his hips so that Stiles’ legs could wrap around his hips.

Stiles broke off the kiss for a second, grinning up at Derek. “So, I guess this is us having sex?”

“You guess?” Derek moved his hips, pressing their cocks together tightly enough that Stiles thought the top of his head might actually explode.

“Well.” He sucked in a deep breath when Derek licked at his throat, slowly moving up to nibble the line of his jaw. “You know. No weird hormones convincing you that you wanted to have sex with me. No weird life-or-death situations keeping us from finishing what we started.” Stiles paused. “Well, I should probably put the food in the refrigerator, but--- oh fuck.”  Derek did something to his ear that was probably illegal in at least three states. It made Stiles feel like just rolling over and presenting to move this thing along to its thrilling and messy conclusion.

Derek made that dark sound again, and Stiles tried to get with the program, pulling Derek’s shirt up and off of his chest. He had his hand down Derek’s jeans and was doing his best to map out the inside of Derek’s mouth with his tongue when Derek pulled back, stumbling a little when his jeans pooled around his ankles.

“I put some lube by the end table.”

Derek paused midway through flinging his jeans and underwear off his ankle. Stiles didn’t even know when Derek had lost his shoes.  “Classy.”  Derek heaved him, turning and setting Stiles down gently on the couch. Derek kept trying to get off Stiles’ clothes, but Stiles wasn’t particularly interested in stopping kissing every inch off Derek’s that he could find, so they had to come to some kind of agreement.

Apparently, that was Derek ripping off Stiles’ t-shirt. Stiles was clever enough to make sure he was barefoot, so it wasn’t too hard to wiggle out of his jeans. He turned, reaching over for the bottle of lube that he had purchased (he’d gotten a kick out of throwing it up there with a pair of Hello Kitty little-girl undies because really. The checkout girls’ face.) when Derek stopped him, cupping Stiles’ jaw in his hands.

“Stiles.”

“Hmm?” He turned back, only to freeze at the look on Derek’s face. “Look, I get that tapping this might not be like, the end all and be all of your dreams, but seriously if you stop now...”

“Don’t say that.” Derek sounded pissed.

“Don’t say--”

“Just... don’t. Make light. Of this. Of.. us, together like this.”

Stiles saw the thoughts crash over Derek’s face. What if this is one-sided? What if I’m reading too much into this? What if... He had to arch his back up to do it, but Stiles tried to put all of what he was feeling into their kiss. He pulled away, resting their foreheads together. They both felt the mood shift from something hurried and kind of hilarious to slower and... utterly perfect.

“Sorry. Self-deprecation is kind of a default for me.”

“Yeah, well. I’m the one that taught it to you.”

And that caused Stiles to stare up at Derek, utterly shocked. Derek smiled back down at him, a faint curve on his lips as he traced Stiles’ slightly gaping mouth with one finger. “What?” Derek bent down and kissed him again. Stiles caught his breath. He’d always thought that there were only so many times that someone could say ‘I’m sorry’ without the words being meaningless, yet every so often, Derek would look like... well. Kind of like this.

It wasn’t that long ago that Stiles would have taken petty, almost fiendish joy in every single flinch, or wince, or outward sign that Derek still felt terrible. Stiles supposed that was a sign that he really had forgiven him. Now it made Stiles want to somehow kiss it better like he did when Zoe skinned her knee.

Which was probably kind of fucked up.

Derek made a move as though he was about to push himself up, and Stiles couldn’t help the protesting sound he made. He curled his body around Derek’s, using Derek’s surprise to flip them so that Stiles was on top.

Somehow he did it without breaking either one of their dicks.

Unfortunately, they ended up more on the floor than on the couch.

Stiles bent down to kiss Derek again. “Okay, so. Let’s sum up. You’re in my head so much that I forgot that you’re not actually in my head, so I can understand your confusion.” He bent down, kissing a little deeper, licking into Derek’s mouth until they were both breathing hard. Stiles reached down to slide his hands over Derek’s shoulders, down his arms, picking up Derek’s hands to place them on his hips. Stiles leaned back a little, watching Derek’s gaze darkened as he looked up at Stiles stretched out above him, completely naked.  “One. I love you.” Derek jerked under him, his hands tightening sharply on Stiles’ hips. Derek tried to shove up onto his elbows, but Stiles leaned back against Derek’s knees, reaching down and sliding his thumb over the tip of his cock. Derek’s gaze jerked from Stiles’ face to his dick and back up to his face as he flopped back onto the floor.

Stiles smiled sweetly. “Stay with me here, big guy. Two. I’m pretty sure that you love me.” Stiles reached up and licked the precome off his thumb, watching as Derek’s eyes rolled back in his head before his eyelids drifted shut, only to spring open.

“Yes! Jesus, Stiles... yes.”

“And you...” Stiles trailed off, his voice hitching as he tightened his fist, stroking himself a few times. “...you love...” He let go of his dick, making a face. “Okay, this was a lot sexier in my head, but I can’t actually say ‘you love our daughter’ while touching my cock.”

Derek’s laugh was a burst of sound, shocking him. “Oh my god.. you. I can’t believe that you...”  

Stiles never found out what it was that Derek couldn’t believe. Derek folded himself up, wrapping his arms around Stiles and shifting him so that he could wrap his hand around the both of them, stroking. Stiles twisted again to find the lube, and both of them cursed when he used too much, squirting more over their hands than their cocks. Derek kissed Stiles’ shoulder, biting down a little when Stiles moved up onto his knees. They both brought slippery fingers to Stiles’ ass, moving so that Derek could slide between his cheeks, not in... but sliding back and forth until Stiles had pretty much forgotten what they were talking about.

Stiles balanced himself with one hand on Derek’s shoulder, reaching around to open himself up.

“Stiles... God. I can feel you. I can feel your fingers, fuck.”

“Pretty sure... that’s the... idea here.”

Derek picked Stiles up from the floor and pushed him back onto the couch, batting Stiles’ fingers aside and using his own. Stiles cried out. The stretch was enough that he could feel little sparks under his skin, causing him to shake and shiver as Derek spread him open, scissoring and stretching until his three fingers slid inside of his hole. Stiles rocked back on them, biting at his lip, vaguely realizing that perhaps... maybe... teasing Derek while he told him that he loved him for the first time might not have been his best game plan.  

But if this was revenge, he was totally for it if he didn’t come all over himself.

“Derek, please--oh. ohhh, that’s, come the fuck on. I want you inside of me.” Stiles pushed up on his elbows, moaning when Derek slid his fingers out of his ass, leaving a slick trail of lube on Stiles’ thigh as he settled back down onto the floor. Stiles took a deep breath and scrambled to his feet, falling forward and positioning himself with one slippery hand around Derek’s dick, keeping it steady as he slowly sank down onto him, impaling himself. Stiles didn’t stop, moving until he was fully seated. Derek’s entire face was still, staring up at Stiles, watching as he slowly relaxed, giving an experimental rock of motion.

Stiles heard Derek’s teeth grind as he moved again. Stiles licked at his dry lips and grabbed Derek’s hands again, putting them on his hips and nodding when he was ready.

Derek didn’t waste any time, arching up and pulling Stiles down onto him in one smooth movement. They started slow, barely rocking. Stiles shut his eyes, moaning when his whole body shivered from the thickness of Derek’s cock stretching him open. Derek moved a little faster, and Stiles fell forward, catching himself with the palm of his hands on Derek’s chest.

The angle made him see stars. He shouted, and Derek moved, changing the rhythm of their thrusts until he was arching up, and Stiles's hips snapped forward, rolling back and forth as Derek showed him what would feel best, how to move. Derek’s cock felt hotter each time he slid back inside, the head rubbing against that spot inside of Stiles that made his vision white out.

After that, it didn’t take long. Derek wrapped one hand around him, the other moving from Stiles’ hip to his chest, and over his back, and down over the trembling, sweaty muscles of his ass, over his thigh and back up, like he couldn’t quite believe that he was allowed to touch.  Every way that Stiles moved, Derek was wrapped around him or in him or sliding against him.  He came with a shout of Derek’s name, watching with wide eyes as he spurted up over Derek’s hand. Derek groaned, moving his hand over Stiles’ sensitive cock, until Stiles could only shake, collapsing down onto Derek with a muffled moan. Derek growled something, flipping them over and thrusting back inside. It only took a few movements of his hips before he cried out Stiles’ name, panting on Stiles’ shoulder as he came.

They rested there for a few minutes. Stiles couldn’t help but snort. “Not trying to be funny here- but I’m not saying it again.” He kissed Derek’s jaw, sucking at the bead of sweat. “I might give Erica, Boyd, and Scott a few days berth just to be safe.”

Derek froze, then turned so that they were on their sides, both of them grimacing a little as the uncomfortable carpet brushed against sweaty skin.  “Then, I’ll say it.” He moved so that his ear was on Stiles’ heart, hugging him tightly. “I love you, Stiles.”

Stiles had to bite his lip to keep from saying anything. He wrapped his shaking fingers in Derek’s hair and slid them through the sweaty strands, sighing a little. It took a few minutes for him to be able to talk without his throat tightening up. “You know... I do have a perfectly good bed.”

“I know. I helped you put it together.”

***
“Mr. Hale? It’s time.”

To say that Stiles was uncomfortable was pretty much the understatement of the year. He felt like Zoe and her entire kindergarten class were jumping on his stomach. He was hot, and sweaty, and so fucking pissed off that some doctor somewhere decided that just because he didn’t have a vagina, it was unnecessary for him to have an epidural because what the fuck what kind of blatant sexism was that he hurt and he wanted drugs and--

Derek rubbed his stomach lightly, leaning over to kiss Stiles’ forehead. Even as miserable as he was, Stiles had to grin a little at the utterly terrified look on Derek’s face warring with his obvious need to try to comfort his mate. Derek’s hand shot out, his reflexes quicker than any of the others in the room, wrapping around the white lab coat of the head Obstetrician, causing the smaller man to squeak in shock.  “You. Will. Take. Care of. Them.”  Derek’s growl was not particularly subtle, but then again, Derek wasn’t exactly a subtle guy. He let go and turned back to Stiles.

“Of course! Simple procedure, really. We just need to get your husband ready and--”

The doctor trailed off when he realized that neither of the Messieurs Hale was paying him one bit of attention. Derek’s shaking hands cupped Stiles’ jaw as he kissed his forehead, nose, and eyelids. Stiles had his hands locked around Derek’s wrists and was obviously trying to breathe deeply. They pulled apart, and Stiles gave Derek a little smile.

“I’m an old hand at this, you know. And you... make sure you’re nice to the staff, okay? This will be over before you know it.” Another contraction hit, and Stiles’ face crumpled. The doctor watched as Derek failed miserably at trying not to look like his heart was being ripped out of him. “Well! Time to get this show on the road, I would say.” He gestured to the two nurses as they wheeled Stiles into the sterile area of the small clinic. The doctor took a step to the side, allowing Derek an unobstructed view of his mate.  “Now, you just need to scrub down and change, and you should get there right about the time things get interesting.”  

The doctor stared at Derek, observing the dumbfounded look on his face.  “You mean... I can... I can be with...”

The doctor raised an eyebrow.  “Of course you can.” What kind of third-rate clinic did he think they ran around here? This was the finest Omega ward in the country! The doctor harumphed under his breath and pushed Derek towards the antibacterial soap and the set of scrubs none to gently, ignoring the utterly goofy smile of delight on the younger man’s face.

***
“Shh, honey. Let your daddy sleep. He worked really hard today.”

“But I want to see! Is the baby out? Did it hurt? Is the baby ugly? It’s okay if he’s ugly. I’ll still love him bunches unless he cries. Then you and daddy can take care of him because you’re his parents. I’m just a big sister.”

Stiles cracked open one eye. The feeling of being hit by a truck, only to have the truck back up and run him over again, was familiar even though he hadn’t felt it in a little over five years. Stiles was glad of his faster healing- because seriously. He didn’t know how women did this shit.

“Imma ‘wake. Hi baby girl. Have you met your brother yet?”

Derek swung Zoe up onto the bed. “You be careful, okay. Don’t touch his belly.”  They both watched as Zoe carefully picked her way over to Stiles’ hip, only to burrow under his arm with her head on his chest.

“No. Dad said we should wait until we could all meet him together.”

Stiles jerked his eyes up so that he could meet Derek’s wet gaze. “Oh.”

Derek turned, moving over to the other side of the bed. He kicked off his shoes then carefully curled around Stiles’ body, moving slowly enough that nothing jarred. “Hi.” Stiles stretched a little so that they could kiss.

“Hi.” Stiles grinned. “You ready to meet your son?”

Derek took a deep shuddering breath and nodded, eyes snapping to the door when it opened.  The nurse paused for a second with the blue-wrapped bundle, her face morphing through several levels of ‘aww’ before crossing over to the bed and put the smallest Hale into his father’s arms. Stiles kissed the tiny forehead then immediately moved him into Derek’s arms, turning so that he could peek inside the blanket, checking him over as Derek (who was laying there like a statue-obviously afraid to even breathe too heavily) held his son for the first time.  

Zoe leaned over, looking suspiciously at her baby brother. “He’s kind of... not completely ugly. Kind of.. squishy.” She looked up at her dads, huffing a little when they did that thing at each other with the eyebrows. “I thought you said he’d be beautiful.” Her deeply suspicious gaze looked over her brother once more before settling back into the side of Stiles’ body.

“He is.”  Derek’s strangled voice made Stiles smile sleepily as he settled back down, curling over onto Derek’s chest.  “He’s amazing. You’re amazing. It’s. I can’t...”

“Calm down there, big guy. It hasn’t been ten years yet.”

Stiles kissed Derek’s chest and listened to his heartbeat slow down to a less frantic rate. He was almost asleep again when he felt Derek’s hand cup the back of his head, stroking down over his neck, down onto his back. Trust was a funny thing. It took forever to build and seconds to shatter. Trusting again was even more difficult. Once your heart knew that it could be broken, it took a lot of work to fit the shattered bits back together. Stiles felt Zoe sigh behind him as Derek’s hand slid from his back to her hair, tangling gently in her curls. She seemed perfectly content to lie there, curled up with them on the bed.

It had taken them a long time to get here.

But Stiles couldn’t think of anything that was more worth it.


****

THE END!

WHEW.

Okay... so there's the fluffy porny ending of doooooooom!   By necessity, this is going to be a rather ridiculously long author's note, so feel free to skip if that's not your thing.

The idea for the "bet" in this fic came from Dianann's Dark Chocolate, from the HP fandom.  I thought that by referencing it on the first page, I would be covered for any spoiler type trigger warnings- but I guess I botched that completely. I know that I offended people by not posting specifics on what was going to happen, and I really truly am sorry.

I wanted to write a story where a shitty thing (then several more shitty things) happened to the protagonists, but that neither of them was exactly in the right…  nor were they in the wrong.  I mean, is it ever okay to do something really terrible if you have a really, really, really good reason? Yes? No? Hmmm. I’m still not sure whether I agree with Derek and Scott’s reasoning… or with some of Stiles’ decisions.  About the only thing I was sure about was that I wanted Stiles to grow up before making any rash decisions. Just because he’s a good guy doesn’t mean that he always makes the best decisions… and playing around with that trope was really fun.  On the flipside of that, making Derek grovel was pure joy. :D

Playing around with the ethics of this- of what these fictional characters did and didn't do- and seeing people's reactions to what they did... then seeing people's reactions to the reactions of what they did... wow.  I  still can't believe that people were so completely invested in this story... so much that I received tons and tons of messages on tumblr from people asking about my personal views on some of the terrible things that I put Stiles and Derek and everyone else through on this fic.  I can’t tell you how flattering that is.  I have several comments to go back and respond to, so if I missed you please don’t be offended.  If you’re impatient, then just leave me a msg in my inbox.  I did turn the anon off. 

Diva0789 and Silvarbelle are actual perfection come to life.  They had to put up with a lot of my whining and freaking out over random plot points, and they did it with aplomb and not actually blocking me and running off to join the circus, which is good. Thank you, ladies, for all your help.

So.,.. thanks are in order.  Jlm121 is my best friend. If you guys see her around, give her a thanks. I can’t tell you how many times I randomly texted her and was like OH MY GOD, THIS STORY IS SHIT PLEASE CAN I JUST QUIT and she would calmly and reasonably tell me to calm my tits and move on. I bounced idea after idea off of her. I wanted to write a ‘mpreg lite’ story, and she answered all my questions, being the fic goddess that she is. My one goal was to not have anyone scream  OH MY GOD ASSBABIES??? At anyone else, and god willing- I accomplished that.  I love you and hope you like your little story, bb.

So, a broken hand, computer virus, and 77,000 words later… here we are.  I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  Thank you so much for everything!!!!!