Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Okay, all right, we totally got this. What could go wrong, right? I mean everything is gonna be awesome, who wouldn’t like you? I love you! Think you’re a pretty darn sweet catch. Obviously Boss will too, I mean, you know everything about the woods. Everything! You deserve a medal for that, or a ribbon. Maybe a patch on your boy scout sash. Wait, do boy scouts have sashes? Never mind, doesn’t matter. You get a sash if I have to sew one myself!”

“Stiles.”

“Yep, yeah? What’s up, Derek?”

“Calm down.”

The young man deflated slightly but then perked right back up, his nervous ramble hardly stalling before he was off once more. “What’s the most unlikely fact you know about nature? You should probably have something like that in your back pocket, just in case you need to impress him.”

Derek sighed, fondness coating the breath, and smoothed his hands down the front of his new uniform shirt. He’d spent an hour ironing it and the pants that morning. Stiles had called him obsessive. Stiles had never used an iron in his life and had burned his fingers when he tried to ‘help.’ They’d spent a good twenty minutes running cold water over the burns and then Derek had gone back to ironing.

The motions were soothing, repetitive and familiar. If he closed his eyes he could feel the afternoon sun falling across his back from the tall dining room window. Warmth and life surrounded him in the familiar eggshell blue room and the echo of giggles and thuds of small feet rang out from the floor above. The smell of fresh bread wafted through the house as he worked the iron, diligently (if sullenly) following his mother’s laughing directions.

Could ironing be an act of sacred remembrance? Stiles would probably say yes.

It was the week of Trial by Fire, as Stiles insisted on calling it. The week they had agreed to do all the scary things at once so life could move on. 1) Start his job. 2) Meet the Sheriff. 3) Have Laura and Peter over.

Derek had been spending more and more time human, relearning how to walk on two feet and hold a fork. He hadn’t done either for years. It was slow going, none of it felt comfortable or natural. Except showers. Showers were amazing. As a wolf he’d suffered through the occasional bath; it was a trial for both him and Stiles. But showers? He would happily spend hours in there in human form, standing with his head bent and the warm water sluicing its way down his body.Stiles had taken to joining him part way through. He’d figured out that enticing Derek into bed was one of the few things that might get him to leave the bathroom. What he hadn’t figured out was that Derek didn’t mind because enough time spent in bed meant a second shower would be necessary.

And he liked spending time in bed with Stiles. A lot.

When he was relatively comfortable in clothing and ready (barely) to face the outside world, Stiles had pulled some strings and gotten him a zoom interview with the Parks Services. His forest knowledge had gotten him hired immediately. They had even agreed to pair him with Stiles for the foreseeable future which was more than he could have hoped for.

It was his first day, and while Stiles assured him it wasn’t necessary, he’d wanted to look as put together as possible. One should always make a good impression on a new employer. His dad used to say that. He’d also said ‘knock kneed bees never get any pollen’… Which had never made sense to Derek before Stiles.

“Wow, Derek, I am truly impressed! You take to the woods like a natural,” David Cole said with a friendly clap on the werewolf’s back. Derek hoped his grimace looked like a smile.

“As natural as a wolf,” Stiles added with a grin.

“There aren’t any wolves in California,” he said.

“No shit!” Stiles rolled his eyes.

David Cole laughed. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it! Clearly you don’t need any further direction from me! Do my a favor, Hale, and try and keep this guy in line!”

“Wow, thanks for that, boss.” Stiles grinned, not in the least bit insulted. They both watched the older ranger make his way back to the offices, apparently satisfied they wouldn’t burn the forest down around their ears.

“So,” Stiles asked, latching onto his hand as soon as the man was out of sight. “What do you think?”

Derek frowned. “Everything he says is an exclamation. Does he ever talk normal?”

The young man laughed, swinging their hands back and forth as they walked further into the woods. “No, he’s a very ecstatic guy. But I actually meant about the new gig?”

He glanced at Stiles and then down at the hand that refused to let him go. “As long as you’re here it’s perfect.”

Stiles blushed but his nod was simple satisfaction. “That is exactly the right answer, ten points to Hufflepuff.”

Derek snorted.

“And now for lunch!”

The werewolf allowed himself to be dragged back to the parking lot and into the jeep. Stiles was practically vibrating out of his seat. The giddy excitement rolled off him in waves. Derek shook his head, his lips quirking up.

“What?” Stiles demanded.

Derek shrugged. “You. You’re so happy.”

“Well duh! Because you rocked it! Your first day in the big boy human world and you took it on the chin like a champ!”

“It was just orientation.”

“Don’t you dare diminish your accomplishments, Derek Alexander Marian Jeff Hale!”

Derek wrinkled his nose. “That is definitely not my name.”

Stiles snorted and the jeep veered slightly. “Not the point! You were amazing today, you were amazing yesterday, and you will be amazing tomorrow. Thor has spoken, long live Thor.”

“You’re very confident.”

The pale man winked at him. “I know an ace when I see one. And by ‘ace’ I obviously mean werewolf.”

Derek huffed and shook his head. When they pulled into the grocery store he followed Stiles inside. They were in the freezer aisle, Stiles expounding on the godlike attributes of hot pockets while Derek pretended he didn’t agree, when it happened.

“Hey kiddo!”

Derek froze, eyes wide and stuck on Stiles’ face. Stiles jaw snapped shut and he spun to look over Derek’s shoulder, a grin – brittle and nervous – stretching his mouth just a bit too wide.

“Dad! Hey! Uh, hi! Great to see you!” Amber eyes flicked worriedly to Derek. “Although we didn’t expect to do that until tomorrow, haha! What a world, amiright?”

Jaw clenched and dread filling his gut with molten lead, Derek turned to face the Sheriff. They hadn’t planned for this, for a random run in. He didn’t know what to say, how to act. Would the man demand answers right there next to the vegetarian spring rolls? His fingers twitched, itching to turn to paws and let fur run rampant across his skin.

Noah Stilinski was all that remained of Stiles’ flesh and blood, he was important. Derek needed the older man to like him, for his own sake but especially for Stiles’. There had been toleration when Derek had been a wolf, but it was paired with suspicion and long suffering patience for his son. He didn’t know how the Sheriff’s opinion would change now that he wore his human skin more often. There was no way to know until he tried.

He managed a ground out, “Sheriff,” not entirely certain where the air to do so had come from since his lungs felt glued closed.

The man was eyeing Stiles with fond exasperation. Then he looked at Derek.

“Derek,” the Sheriff said, voice warm. “It’s good to see you looking more yourself, son.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The Sheriff waved a dismissive hand. “Non of that, you can call me Noah. Or Dad.”

“Duuude!” Stiles said in awe.

“Not that,” Noah said sternly. “You may not call me ‘dude.’”

“Dude,” Stiles said again, rolling his eyes. “It’s a term of respect.”

“Uh huh, right. Sure it is, kiddo.” The Sheriff smiled. “I won’t keep you, just happened to see you as I walked by and wanted to say hello. We still on for tomorrow?”

“Heck yes,” Stiles nodded. “Annie’s Diner at noon. Be there or be haunted by supernatural creatures the rest of your life! I have connections now, Dad, I can totally follow through on my threats!”

“Noon it is.” The man tousled his son’s hair, earning a loud squawk, and then gripped Derek’s shoulder in a firm hand. “Don’t let this hooligan talk you into trouble, Derek. See you both tomorrow.”

The glue in his lungs released little by little as the man walked away. Derek swallowed roughly. He hadn’t seemed mad at all. Not even suspicious. Stiles’ face was scrunched up tight, like he was making connections so fast it hurt.

“He said you could call him ‘dad.’”

Derek nodded, nonplussed.

“He didn’t even let Scott call him dad for a year.”

Derek frowned. He’d heard about Scott, the best friend that had married and moved away. Still the best friend, just rarely seen.

“OMGness! He totally knows we’re banging!” Stiles looked like he might pass out, his ears reddening even as his face went deathly pale.

“… And?”

“He knows,” Stiles hissed. “He knows and he didn’t threaten to shoot you! He called you ‘son’! He said you could call him ‘dad’!”

“He did.”

“Holy hell, he likes you!” Stiles paused. “EVEN THOUGH WE’RE BANGING!!!!”

Derek was a little offended at how surprised Stiles sounded. He scowled at the portly woman at the far end of the aisle who had paused to frown at them in distaste. “Do you have to shout that?”

Stiles grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him in a circle, cackling loudly. They were probably going to be asked to leave, but Derek didn’t care. Not when Stiles smiled at him like all his cares were gone and Derek was the ray of sunshine that had chased them away.

“He likes you!” Stiles sing-songed, dragging him from the store, lunch forgotten. “He likes you and I like you and you like you-”

Derek sighed. “Really, Stiles?”

“And everything is gonna be all right!” The young man dropped the hold he had on Derek’s arm so he could do some truly atrocious dance moves in the parking lot. He watched Stiles’ arms wave and butt wiggle in resignation but not regret. He’d signed up for this wholeheartedly and he would do it again in the blink of an eye.

“Deeerrrrek.” He tore his eyes away from the shapely twerking ass to find Stiles grinning at him over his shoulder. “Let’s go home and celebrate that my dad likes you by banging!”

And who was he to argue with a suggestion like that?

The next day they pulled into Annie’s Diner and parked. Stiles got out right away, jumping from foot to foot like an excited toddler. Derek took a moment in the vehicle to just breathe. Even if the day before had not been a fluke the Sheriff would still want an explanation. He would have questions about the fire and Derek’s part in it all. He was about to be dragged through all the details about the worst day of his life and a moment of silence was not enough to prepare, but it was all he had.

Stiles appeared at his window, knuckles tapping lightly. Derek pursed his lips, amusement making his mouth twitch. He cranked the window down, eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“Did you plan on getting out of the car or should I tell my dad I’m dating a giant werechicken?”

He tried to scowl but he was powerless in the face of Stiles’ twinkling eyes. “You’re the one who’s so nervous he can’t sit still.”

“Whatever, come on, Scaredy-wolf!”

He followed Stiles into the diner as nervous as the day he’d followed him out of the preserve. Noah had already arrived and commandeered a booth towards the back. More privacy for invasive questions.

“Hey, pops!” Stiles threw his arms out, utterly carefree.

The Sheriff rose to meet him, a smile on his face as he pulled his son into a hug.

“Son, it’s been a whole twenty-four hours.”

“And it felt like eternity!”

The Sheriff rolled his eyes and then pushed his son out of the way, his gaze landing on Derek who felt his shoulders hunch involuntarily. He wiped a sweaty palm on his uniform pants before holding it out to the older man.

“Sheriff.”

“Derek,” Sheriff Stilinski said, taking the hand in a firm grip. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Noah?”

“Oh, right. Thank you, sir.”

“Noah.” Derek blinked and the Sheriff shrugged. “Maybe Stiles can help you practice later, possibly after a little hanky-panky. To help you relax.”

Stiles squawked next to him, his ears going bright red. “Geeze, Dad, subtle much?!”

“Nope,” the Sheriff grinned before sitting back down. “Hurry up and decide what you want so we can eat.”

Derek slid into the booth silently. Next to him Stiles eyed his dad with suspicion.

“Don’t think being nice is going to get you a double bacon cheese burger.”

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. “Please, son, I already ordered the salmon.”

“Good,” Stiles said, still suspicious.

“With fries.”

“Dad!”

“So, Derek-” He cringed, ready for the interrogation. “-How do you like your new job?”

“I-uh.” He licked his lips and glanced at Stiles. “It’s a good job, and I get paid to be in the woods.”

“I’d say your uniquely qualified for that position,” Noah said with a grin. “Did Stiles ever tell you about that time when he was new and tried to rescue a trapped beaver only to get stuck in the same trap for hours until someone came to find him?”

“Daaad,” Stiles whined. “Really?”

“He’d named the beaver Butthead and decided they were best friends by the time anyone found him.”

Derek felt his mouth twitch because honestly, “Sounds like something Stiles would do.”

And that was how lunch went. They chatted about innocuous things, funny stories and anecdotes. Noah never once brought up the fire, didn’t say a word about his family, just kept the conversation light and flowing. He was a beacon of acceptance and it was so very strange, yet so very familiar. Stiles had been a beacon of acceptance too. A family trait perhaps.

After the meal they walked out to the parking lot together, Stiles racing ahead like a child. The milkshake sugar high had clearly set in. Noah took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Derek’s shoulders and give him a tight squeeze.

“Listen, son, I just want you to know I don’t need an explanation, you’re not on my suspects list.” Derek’s heart stopped beating and then restarted at a gallop. “I know enough. I know you were dealt a shit hand, I know you make my son happy, and I know you’re good for each other. That’s all I care about.” Noah paused and cleared his throat. “I liked your family. Your uncle Rufus was good to Claudia when she was sick in the hospital, she always said he was the best nurse. And your aunt Sofie was an incredibly patient kindergarten teacher, I doubt Stiles would’ve survived that first year without her. What I’m trying to say is that Hales and Stilinskis always seem to find each other. And good always come from it.”

Derek nodded haltingly, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he blinked away the would be tears. He wasn’t going to cry in the parking lot of a diner, he had more pride than that.

But not much more.

“Whoa, hey, Derek, what’s wrong?” Stiles asked as he pulled off to the side of the road. They’d made it maybe two blocks before the tears had overwhelmed the damn of determination.

He sniffed loudly. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Stiles said, practically crawling across the gear shift to wrap him in a hug. “Tell me.”

“I miss them.” He couldn’t see anymore, the world blurry and wet. His chest hurt, air coming in big desperate gulps as he clung to the other man. “I miss them so much.” And Stiles got it, because he was amazing and intuitive and understanding. He crooned softly and held Derek tighter.

“Wanna tell me about them?”

The words were soft, a suggestion not a command. He had mourned as a wolf, or at least he’d thought he had. Yet the grief felt so fresh. The ghosts had been more prevalent in recent days, brushing against him in whispers of memories and emotions.

“Laura,” he stopped and sucked in a wet breath. “Laura was the worst. She’d shift into a wolf and eat my homework.” He could feel Stiles breath, warm against his scalp as he chuckled into his hair. “She’d always buy me burgers after basketball practice and we’d sing Beatles songs all the way home.”

He recounted Cora’s affinity for traditionally male toys, which was why he was always wading through the mountains of barbies in her room looking for his transformers that she had stolen again. How Auntie Sofie would always give him two pieces of candy when she gave everyone else one, because ‘growly boys just need extra love.’ Peter had adored her and he’d always thought it was such a strange match, Peter’s sharp edges with Sofie’s soothing tones, but no one could deny it worked.

He remembered baby Oliver had been so annoyingly particular in who put him to bed and would gurgle and screech until Derek picked him up and let him fall asleep on his chest in a puddle of drool, and that Daisy and Ellen had been so excited for first grade. That they’d finally be able to go to school like the older kids, like Derek. He explained his father’s complicated relationship with bandsaws, and how many fingers he would have lost to the tool if he hadn’t been a werewolf. But the things he built had been beautiful and worth the pain, or so he had said. He detailed his family in moments and actions, outlined them in memories and sighs.

They sat on the side of the road for a long time, Stiles holding him close while he talked and cried. Eventually his tears ran dry and he just rested silently, eyes heavy. Stiles’s agile fingers combed through his hair.

“I’m sorry they’re gone, Derek,” he said softly. “I am so sorry. But you still have Peter and Laura, so that’s something.”

“Do I,” Derek wondered. “I don’t even know if they’re the same people. They might hate me.”

“First of all, you’re not the same person you were before the fire either but you’re still awesome and amazing and the best cuddler in the world.” Derek huffed quietly. “And B) I think we can say, categorically, that they do not hate you. Dude, they sent Satomi to check on you because of how worried they were. They want to know you. Not as well as I know you, obviously, I’m claiming the whole biblical knowing thing for myself although I could be convinced to share a fewcuddles… But not very many.”

Derek buried his smile in Stiles’ shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

“No, I’m Stiles!” Stiles smiled proudly at him and all he could do was shake his head and begin the lengthy process of disentangling their limbs (seriously, how did Stiles manage to pretzel so well?) so they could finish the drive home.

By the time Friday rolled around the walls of the small house were permanently infused with the smell of puttanesca and garlic bread. Derek glared at the dutch oven boiling away on the stove, willing it to be right. To taste right. But he’d never made it before Monday and maybe there was a secret ingredient he had missed because the last five tries tasted wrong. He glared harder.

“Derek, setting the dutch oven – my one nice dish in the entire house – on fire with your eyes is not an acceptable welcome to Peter and Laura.”

Derek growled.

Stiles eyebrow shot up and he popped his fists onto his hips. “Really? Is that so? Okay, Grumpy Gus, here’s the deal. You do not have time to start over, they will be here in twenty minutes. The bread is heavenly – trust me, I’ve eaten my weight in it since Monday. The fancy Italian dish that I can never remember the name of – Pootsesca? Putin? Putîn? – is also good. No, better than good, it’s great. But if you’re gonna lose your mind over it we can always order in.”

“But it’s not right.”

“Derek-”

“Stiles,” he turned from the stove and crossed his arms. Then uncrossed them and pointed down at himself. “I am wearing pants.”

Stiles blinked. “Uh, yes. Thank you?”

“No,” Derek growled again and shook his head. “I am wearing the pants. I get to make the decision.”

He could see the moment the light went on for Stiles. His eyes widened and then his brow furrowed and his lips pursed, but they did little to hide the pleased smile lurking underneath.

“I see.” Stiles said formally. “Well, it is important that we take turns wearing the pants, you know to avoid a power imbalance. And they aren’t on your head so we got that going for us.” The young man walked up and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, continuing in a more serious tone. “Okay, you’re wearing the pants, you get to make all dinner choices and I will abide by them. Have I mentioned how proud I am of you? Or how hot you look in an apron?”

Derek rolled his eyes but accepted the kiss Stiles planted on his mouth.

“All right, babe, get back to that hot stove,” Stiles said and smacked his butt.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Derek said with a glare over his shoulder.

Stiles sighed happily. “Yeah. I know.”

Twenty minutes later Derek’s shoulders climbed to his ears when gravel crunched under car tires in the driveway. Air suddenly seemed in short supply and he set the stack of plates on the table harder than he’d intended. Car doors opened and closed. The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Stiles called from the living room.

It took all his strength to walk from the kitchen to the entryway, his feet leaden. Stiles flung the door open with a cheerful ‘hello!’(clearly overcompensating) and Derek’s breath caught in his throat.

Peter was older, a few more gray hairs, but his eyes were still sharp and assessing. He still held himself with an air of deciding where to strike. Derek had seen that look during late night pillow fights and water gun wars. But the smile he treated Stiles with was wide and warm and much kinder than Derek might have expected.

And Laura- He swallowed thickly. Laura looked like their mother. Tall, wise, beautiful. She wore her mahogany hair long and loose, just like Mom had and she stood with a confidence that Derek envied. She was the Hale alpha, and she carried the title well.

Their eyes turned away from where Stiles was taking coats like a good host and fastened on Derek. Hungry, starved, ready to devour him.

“Derek,” Laura said, her eyes flashing red.

He flinched, eyes flashing blue back instinctively.

Her expression tightened and she looked at Peter.

“Nephew,” the man said. “It’s been far too long.”

“Derek?” Stiles appeared at his side, twining their fingers together and whispering softly, pretending the others couldn’t hear. “You okay?”

No. He wasn’t. Not even a little. Seeing them was like looking at ghosts.

Laura made a sound low in her throat, guttural, and then she was rushing down the hall towards him. Derek pushed Stiles away from the attack, if he was going to die for his mistakes then Stiles could not be collateral. His sister reached him, slammed into him, and wrapped her arms around him so tight it hurt. Then she buried her face in his neck and inhaled deeply, greedily. “I missed you, I missed you so damn much!” The words sliced through his body, wedging themselves deep inside his heart and refused to budge. He whined and clung just as tightly to Laura. To the Hale alpha. To his alpha, because in that moment the bond he had torn to shreds when he’d exiled himself in the woods sprang to life with a vengeance. It flared deep inside and burned away all doubts and fears. She still wanted him, she had accepted him.

“Wow, okay,” Stiles said from somewhere off to the side. “Guess we’re just gonna hug this out.”

Peter snorted. “Bring it in, bring it in.”

“Holy Hale, if I wasn’t half married to Derek I’d fall in love with you for that quote alone!”

“While I am quite a catch, I like to think myself above robbing cradles.”

“Your loss.”

“Peter,” Laura growled into Derek’s hair. “Stop flirting with the kid and get over here!”

“Do pardon her, Stiles,” Peter drawled. “Long lost loved ones and all that.”

Derek felt the beta come up behind him and wind his arms around them both. His presence as certain as the pack bond that flared, less dramatically but no less thoroughly than Laura’s.

“Cool cool,” Stiles said. “I’ll just go set the table. Maybe do some laundry. Paint the fence. Take your time!”

Derek knew the other two were listening to the retreating footsteps like he was. Laura laughed softly.

“He’s adorable.”

Derek brushed his cheek along hers and then sucked in lungfuls of her scent, nodding absently. “He’s amazing.”

“Then I suppose we shall have to keep him,” Peter said with a chuckle, his own cheek brushing against the back of Derek’s neck and shoulders. “Do you think he knows about werewolves?”

“Yeah,” Laura said, pulling back just enough to eye Derek wryly. “Pretty sure that werehorse it out of the barn.”

“I didn’t tell him,” he grumbled. “He just knew.”

“Smart kid,” Peter said approvingly. “Do I smell puttanesca?”

They settled down around the dining table and Derek brought out the food. Then he sat next to Stiles and gripped his hand under the table.

After the first bite Peter paused and looked up at him. “Nephew, this is wonderful. Tastes just like your mother’s.”

“Lots of practice,” Stiles said, cheerfully ignoring the elbow Derek dug into his ribs. “He practiced all week long. I almost had too much garlic bread, which shouldn’t even be possible.”

Laura didn’t say anything, too busy shoveling the food into her mouth as fast as possible.

It was almost too easy, falling back into the family dynamic. Growling at Peter’s cutting but well intentioned remarks to Stiles – who appeared utterly unfazed and gave as good as he got. Laughing at Laura’s unhealthy obsession with trashy TV shows despite knowing that he’d spent many afternoons on the couch watching the same ones with Stiles. Discussions on Talia’s cooking were heated as they argued over what had been good and what had not. Memories relived together. It was incredibly and wonderful and just a small taste of the pack he’d lost. He never wanted it to end.

But it had to.

It was late, nearly midnight when Laura and Peter made their way to the door. They had lives in New York they needed to get back to. Laura ran her own shirt printing business, it was a big hit in the geek community and Stiles had already ordered five Star Wars related products. Peter ran an animal rescue. He claimed it was because he couldn’t stand people most of the time and animals were easier. Derek had to agree.

“So,” Laura said, trying to find the second sleeve of her coat. “Peter and I have been talking about moving back.”

Derek blinked

“My business is half online anyway, it’d be easy to move it. And Peter has said he’d be willing to start a new rescue here and make it his base of operations with the occasional trip back to make sure the humans aren’t burning the other place down out of sheer incompetence.”

“A valid fear,” Peter murmured.

“But,” Derek frowned. “Why now? Why not before?”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Because of you, you big dummy! I mean, yeah, at first it was too many memories and scars, but we started to heal. Then we found you and we stayed away because we didn’t want to spook you.” Her eyes were big and sad. “We did’t want you to disappear again.”

“Satomi has been keeping an eye on the territory for us,” Peter added. “And you for that matter. She has always been an honorable friend.”

“But we don’t want to move back if you aren’t ready,” Laura said hurriedly. “We don’t want to-”

“Yes,” Derek said, cutting her off. “Do it. Please.”

“Well that’s fairly clear cut,” Peter said with a smile.

“Yeah.” Laura looked surprised but happy.

“Sweet!” Stiles grinned. “We love house hunting, we can, like, help you find a place! And my dad can rush permits if you want to build. Perks of being the Sheriff. Although he will give you speeding tickets, even if you’re family, so be warned. He is not an honorable friend.”

“Perfect,” Laura said. “We can’t wait!”

After one long hug that was far too short the two Hales headed out the door and drove away.

Stiles closed the front door and leaned his back against it, grinning at Derek who raised an eyebrow.

“They are moving back to town. They like you. They missed you! They put up with me rambling about apiarists for forty minutes for you.”

Derek pursed his lips, amused. “Your point?”

“Dude! When you wear the pants you wear the pants! You rocked that! Dinner was awesome, you talked like a normal human being – I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so many words at once before – and you have pack again!”

Derek stalked forward, his arms bracketed Stiles in. “I already had a pack. I had you.” He kissed the other man softly.

Stiles patted his chest with a smile. “Yes, and I am fantastic. But having a real alpha and second beta is better. Especially since they are family. Family, Derek!”

“I know.” And he did. He was still overwhelmed by the bonds and the love and the joy, overwhelmed and so very very happy. The best choice he’d ever made was following Stiles out of the woods and back to pack.