#his dad is just like: “ACAB” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy · 1 month ago

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Who's in Love With the Big Bad Wolf

Masterlist | AO3

Sterek

There was something creeping around Beacon Hills, what else was new? At first, they had thought it was random. They had been finding an unusual amount of dead animals recently. There didn’t seem to be a pattern until it was too late. A particularly creepy string of “gifts” clear it up: something was after Stiles. Again.

~14k

This is when they’re adults (Derek is 31 and Stiles is 28 b/c the cannon timeline makes no sense and Derek was supposed to be 19 in season 1 anyway) and Eli is about 8 years old. Stiles quit working for the FBI after the season 6 raid and decide to move back to Beacon Hills. He ended up working as a deputy under his dad and Derek owns the mechanic’s shop. Stiles and Derek became closer, like actual friends, since Stiles had been back. He even helps with Eli.

I also really enjoy this mental image of Stiles as a cop being just so fucking annoying to his coworkers. Like, he’s the “cool cop” that the teenagers half like and half make fun of because he openly talks about supporting ACAB and leans into the jokes like the Cop Cuties song and he’d totally be like Miles’s dad in Into the Spiderverse when he drops him off at school. I just don’t think he ever grew out of being a menace and, honestly, my favorite part about Stiles is that is is so competent and yet such a mess at the same time.

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It started with a dead birds at the diner Stiles frequented for curly fries– he’d seen some of the poor teenage employees having to bag and toss them in the dumpster. Stiles asked about it when he stopped by the dinner.

“Hey, officer Stilinski. How are you doing today,” the girl working the register asked.

“I’m doing good. How are you, Kimmy,” Stiles asked. He was here too often.

“I’m doing good, “ she smiled. “I saw your other half yesterday. He brought Eli in for an after school snack. He’s such a little cutie,” she said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m not dating Derek.”

“If you say so,” Kimmy said. “So, a double bacon burger, no tomato, and a side of curly fries?”

Stiles nodded, pulling out his wallet. He was here far too much. “You know me well,” he said, handing over his card. “Not to kill everyone’s appetite, but have you noticed more dead animals around?”

“No, sorry. I just work the register and waitress,” she said, adding “I can ask Jonah but he’d report it if he thought there was something wrong.”

“That’d be great. Just have him give me a call,” Stiles said, taking his card back and handing Kimmy a business card with his work number on it. “Make sure that gets to Jonah, please.”

“Not a problem,” she said, setting it beside the register. “Your food will be ready in a few minutes.”

There were more dead animals around town, dead birds and rabbits at first. Sure, it was odd to see a dead rabbit in city limits but road kill happens everywhere, so it was quickly forgotten.

Then it was cats. The police department would get calls about half-dead cats around town– the hospital, the schools, one was even found at th station– which was when Stiles took notice. There were just too many to be a coincidence. After taking yet another call about a still-twitching dying cat on the steps Eichen House, and after confirming it hadn’t been the work of one of the residents, Stiles decided something needed to be done.

Stiles pulled up to Derek’s shop in the police cruiser. As he got out of the car, Derek walked over, wiping oil off his hands with a rag.

“You’re not helping my reputation by showing up in uniform,” Derek said in a tone Stiles knew to be his approximation of a joke.

“Being friends with a cop who happens to also be the sheriff’s son is hurting business,” Stiles asked with a smirk, leaning on the hood of his car. “I didn’t know you kept that clientele, Der. I mean, I’m all for ACAB, especially when the Feds come poking around but...”

Derek shook his head, standing in front of Stiles. “You really shouldn’t say that while in uniform,” he said, trying not to smile. “I meant because of my history with the department.”

“Then I’m really not about to help it,” Stiles said. “We need to go talk to Deaton about the pest problem, see if he has any recommendations for getting rid of it.”

Derek sighed, “and you want me to ride with you?”

“Saves on gas. Your mom van is a gas guzzler,” Stiles teased, “and I don’t pay for her gas.”

“Her,” Derek asked incredulously.

“Yup, Miss Piggy,” Stiles said, snickering at his own joke as he tapped on the hood.

Derek sighed, looking at the ground and wondering why the fuck he put up with Stiles. “Let me tell the guys I’m headed out,” he said, turning to walk back to the shop.

“Your husband taking you out for lunch,” one of the shop employees asked Derek as he walked back in.

“Not my husband, I’m not married,” Derek grumbled, walking into the office for his phone.

“Fucking, fine. Your boyfriend, then.”

“Not my boyfriend either,” Derek said. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. If you break something, it better belong to you and not a customer.”

Derek ignored the jeering as he walked back to the police cruiser. Like a bunch of toddlers, arguing with them made it into a game. He opened the passenger door and sat down, waiting for Stiles to drive off.

Derek looked at Stiles, finding him staring. “What?”

“Put your seatbelt on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, waiting. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“You never wear a seatbelt, Stiles.”

Stiles gestured to himself. “I’m wearing it right now. We’re in the cruiser, put it on.”

Derek rolled his eyes but put on his seatbelt.

“Thank you,” Stiles sighed, backing up. “You know, you should really wear it all the time so Eli learns to wear his.”

“Stiles,” Derek sighed.

“What? I’m just saying, I don’t want to have to pull him over when he starts driving because he doesn’t wear one,” Stiles said, putting the car in drive and heading for Deaton’s.

“You’ll probably be pulling him over anyway with how much time he spends with you,” Derek scoffed.

“Even more reason for you to be a good influence,” Stiles shrugged, “plus, I hate to break it to you, you’re his dad. I’m just the babysitter.”

Derek frowned. “You’re not just the babysitter,” he said.

Stiles gave Derek a quick glance, hearing the change in tone. “Then what am I, Der? The not-uncle he stays the night with?”

“I had hoped you say yourself as part of the pack and…” Derek cut himself off.

“And what?”

“Nothing,” Derek mumbled, leaning over to turn up the radio.

🎶Cop cuties, cute n' on duty. Navy blue booties.🎶

“I hate you,” Derek grumbled, leaning back in his seat as Stiles laughed.

Derek and Stiles got out of the car at the animal clinic, making their plans for the evening as Stiles turned off his body cam.

“Well, if you want anything other than spaghetti, we’ll have to stop at the store before going to my place,” Stiles said, opening the door.

“Mine it is, then,” Derek said, walking inside. “Eli’s been on this thing where he won’t eat noodles ever since he saw that deer with worms.”

Stiles grimaced, “I think I might not eat noodles either, now.”

Deaton smiled at Stiles and Derek when they walked in. “I knew I’d be seeing you soon,” he commented, getting their attention.

“We’re actually trying this new thing where we ignore the supernatural happenings in this town. Much easier for us that way,” Stiles said sarcastically, hooking his thumbs in his duty belt.

“Don’t you look like your father,” Deaton said, giving Stiles a smile.

Stiles dropped his arms to his sides, not sure what to do with them that wouldn’t look more like his dad.

“What do you know about the dead animals,” Derek asked, his annoyance with Deaton loud and clear.

“I know less than Deputy Stilinski, here. Possibly less than yourself if your patrol has continued,” Deaton said.

“So you don’t know anything,” Derek asked again.

“I never said that,” Deaton retorted, “but I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

“Just tell us what you do know and we’ll tell you if it fills in any gaps,” Stiles said, settling on shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I can tell you this isn’t simple animal attacks. It’s quiet deliberately leaving these animals on the brink of death.”

“Why,” Derek asked.

“That, I’m not sure of,” Deaton said.

“Fine. What is it using to do it? Teeth? Knife? What?”

“Teeth, certainly, and Canine at that,” Deaton explained.

“Oh, wow. That really clears things up,” Stiles mumbled. “Dog, wolf, coyote? What kind of canine? And I know you know because you’re the one getting called to put them down.”

“It’s very difficult to tell the difference between the bite of a dog and that of a wolf. In fact—”

“Same ratio and number of teeth but wolves have thicker teeth, more developed molars, and longer canines,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “If you don’t want to help, let me look for myself.”

Deaton gave a polite smile, the one that you knew was hiding annoyance. “It seems to be a wolf, thought not a typical specimen.”

“Great. That’s all you had to say,” Stiles said, matching Deaton’s thinly vailed annoyance with his own. “Unless you have anything to add about a possible pattern or motive, we’re going to leave and figure it out.”

“You two have certainly become quite the duo, haven’t you,” Deaton hummed. “I will let you know if there are any more pertinent developments.”

“I don't know what you're trying to insinuate and I don't care, but I still don't like it,” Stiles said. “I have less than 20 minutes left in my break, so we're leaving.”

He grabbed Derek’s arm and started walking away. Derek followed after him, letting Stiles lead him back to the car by his arm.

They made it outside and Stiles rolled his eyes. “Why does he always have to be cryptic and minimally informative at best,” he complained. “I mean, come on! When we were teenagers, I kind of understood him not wanting to tell us everything but now? I’ve been dealing with this shit for over ten years— you’ve delt with it your whole life— but he acts like he can’t trust us.”

“Can I have my arm back,” Derek asked.

“Shit,” Stiles let go, “sorry. He pisses me off, acting all shady.” He rubbed his face. “I need food or I’m gonna stay pissed off.”

“You drive. I’ll call the diner,” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re my favorite right now,” Stiles sighed, unlocking the cruiser.

“Favorite what,” Derek asked, opening the passenger door.

“Well, it can’t be alpha since that would mean picking between you and Scott. Can’t be favorite werewolf or favorite Hale since Eli definitely holds those titles.” Stiles clicked his tongue as he thought. ”I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”

Derek rolled his eyes, trying not to let Stiles catch his smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

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Stiles got off work at five and headed over to Derek’s house. He didn't bother to knock, just walking into the house. He said a quick hello and headed for the bathroom to change out of his uniform. He retuned to the kitchen once he’d changed into his sweats and a comfy t-shirt.

“Hi Stiles,” Eli said, looking up from his homework as Stiles walked in.

“Hey, kid,” Stiles said, walking over to th breakfast bar where Eli was working. “What are you doing now?”

Derek turned to watch the pair interact. It never failed to make Derek feel like he’d made the right choice in staying. They might not have a lot of family left but Eli had so many people that loved him than any ‘village’ ever could.

“Math,” Eli grumbled. “I have a whole page of multiplication and division!”

“You’ll be fine. You’re good at math,” Stiles said, ruffing Eli’s hair.

“But it’s boring and it takes too long,” Eli whined.

Derek sighed. “I have a feeling I’m going to hear all about that tonight,” he mumbled, catching Stiles’s smile at the comment.

“What time is your meeting,” Stiles asked, looking at him.

Sometimes it was hard to think when Stiles looked at him like that. It made this whole arrangement feel a little too domestic for friends. There was something in the way Stiles never had a second thought when it came to caring for Eli that had Derek wondering what things could be. Honestly, it was always had to thing around Stiles. Maybe that’s why Derek acted without thinking around him.

“Can I read my book instead,” Eli asked, looking rather miserable.

“That’s fine,” Derek said and Eli jumped down, running off to the living room. Derek sighed and turned his attention back to Stiles. “I meet with his teacher in an hour and a half,” he said. “There’s a pizza in the oven. The stove timer is on, so don’t burn the house down. Eli has this page of math and he has a book he needs to finish reading. You just need to sign the sheet when he finishes it. I’m going to go change.”

Stiles pulled out his laptop, looking over the reports of dead animals around town. Something just didn’t seem right. He made sure Eli was still reading every few minutes and decided to call Scott just to ramble about what was going on, trying to get the events straight for himself.

“Dude, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Scott said, not seeming to care. “Probably just some stupid teens playing a prank or something,” he said.

Derek walked in in time to hear the tail end of Scott’s comment. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything about it.

“What,” Stiles asked is disbelief, remembering how many times Scott brushed things off before. “Scott, dude, the only person I know who would think leaving dead animals around town is a good prank is Peter, who is insane.”

“Maybe they got a little too into the occult,” Scott suggested, not really paying attention.

“That may be the dumbest theory I’ve heard from him yet,” Derek grumbled before ducking off to parent-teacher conference for Eli.

Stiles decided talking to Scott was no help and started to look into it on his own. He spent the night bouncing between staring at the list of reports and listening to Eli’s comments about the book he was reading.

There didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason behind the reports and things were only getting worse.

Stiles and Derek were getting uneasy as the animals got larger and more frequent. Some opposums were killed. A racoon here and there. Next it was dogs. The station was on high alert for a dangerous predator and so was the pack.

Stiles laid on Derek’s couch, throwing a ball in the air and catching it while Derek cooked dinner. He was trying to go over his list of mental notes about the dead animals: where were they, how long had they been there, how many were dead when found, how many were only half-dead, would some of those dead ones have lived if found sooner, was there a pattern in how many of each were killed? It was too much to keep in his head.

“I’m grabbing paper from your office,” Stiles said, sitting up on the couch.

“Don’t go snooping,” Derek answered and Stiles smirked.

“Well now I want to…” he joked, getting up and making his way to the office.

He grabbed a hunk of the loose notebook paper and the cup of highlighters, pens, and pencils kept specifically for him. By the time Stiles made his way to the kitchen counter with the paper and pens, Derek had already set a cup of tea by his usual spot. Stiles sat down and started to scribble down his mental notes. One page was dedicated to locations of dead animals and Stiles kept adding more he’d seen himself along with the dates.

Derek looked at Stiles list. “Are these all the reports,” he asked, surprise by just how many there were.

“Huh? Oh,” Stiles took the marker out from between his teeth. “Yup. All the reports and the ones I’ve seen.” He turned the page so Derek could read it from the opposite side of the counter. “The red is reports and the yellow is mine.”

“You’ve seen… a lot. How have you found that many,” Derek asked, looking at him curiously.

Stiles shrugged, “I have no clue, dude. I feel like I see them everywhere I go…”

“Really,” Derek asked. Stiles met his eyes, biting the end of the marker. “I never see them, at least I don’t when I’m not with you. Maybe you draw them in,” he joked, picking up the paper to read the locations more closely.

Stiles smiled at Derek. “What can I say? I’m just a magnet for the supernatural.”

“A magnet for trouble, maybe,” Derek scoffed, giving the paper back and turned his attention to the food.

Days would pass where fewer animals were found. Some were worse, some where better but there was always dead animals in odd places. Stiles would add locations to the running list kept in Derek’s office, not that they were able to figure anything out.

Then it escalated.

Stiles had miraculously managed to get a parking spot in front of Eli’s school– a rarity especially on a Friday. The best part of driving the jeep was that it would fit in just about any parking spot he needed it to and that included squeezing between the pompous better-than-thou mom in the cheap Bentley parked like she owned the place and the very apologetic Mr. Jacobs who had to bring the truck with the hay bed to pickup.

Stiles had decided to sit the the hood of the jeep until the bell rang so Eli would see him past the large truck. He was on the phone with Derek as he drove back from the airport with Cora in the passenger seat. She had meant to be there yesterday but her flight got delayed and made her miss the layover. It was a whole shit show and Derek had to pick her up.

“We’ll only be another thirty minutes,” Derek sighed. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“No, it’s totally good. I don’t mind picking him up. Eli’s great! We’ll get a snack, do homework and then go to the park or something,” Stiles said.

“I– fuck… I know you don’t mind but I still feel like shit for not telling you sooner,” Derek grumbled.

“Dude, relax. Get some food, too. I can deal with you being hangry but not you and Cora being hangry,” Stiles said. “Eli and I will be fine for thirty extra minutes. He’ll probably watch Bluey.”

“You say that like you’re not also going to watch Bluey,” Derek teased.

“Hey, Bluey is awesome,” Stiles scoffed. “Drive safe, don’t die, and text me when you’re ten minutes out. We’ll need time to clean up after the total rager of a party we’re throwing.”

Derek stifled a laugh, “thank you Stiles. I feel better that Eli will be with you.”

“No problem, Der,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Der,” Cora snickered and Stiles paled. “Gag me with a spoon. Jesus, when did you two get so cozy?”

“You’ve been gone three years,” Derek argued.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was on speaker,” Stiles asked, going from pale to bright red from embarrassment.

“I’m driving, Stiles. My phone is connected to the car,” Derek said.

“I didn’t know you were in the mom van.”

“The camaro is inconvenient. Cora has a suitcase,” Derek said.

“I would feel less embarrassed by the camaro but, I have to admit, this is comfy and the heated seats are nice,” Cora hummed.

“Thank you,” Derek said exasperatedly.

“Still weird for you to have a mom van,” Stiles said. “Alright, you guys get food and I’ll text you when Eli and I get back to the house.”

“Bye Stiles.”

“Bye, Cora. Bye Derek,” Stiles said and hung up. He checked the time, playing a game on his phone while he waited.

When the bell rang, Stiles tucked his phone in his pocket. Annoyingly, since he was still in uniform, the pocket was smaller than his jeans. He stood up, watching for Eli’s class to head out. He saw Eli’s teacher bringing her class out and spotted Eli talking to one of his friends. Stiles smiled, waiting for Eli to look for him. They weren’t in any kind of a hurry so he let them talk.

Eli and his friend eventually parted when the other kid’s parent showed up. Eli looked around and saw Stiles waiting for him. He ran over and hugged Stiles.

“Stiles, guess what? I got a B on my spelling test,” Eli declared excitedly, letting go of Stiles.

“Holy cow, dude! You must have worked so hard,” Stiles said, holding up a hand to Eli. He gave him a high five and and Stiles smiled. “Alright, here’s the plan,” he said, placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder and guiding him to the passenger side of the jeep, “first, snack and homework. Then, we’ll go to the—”

A scream cut Stiles short. He grabbed Eli, pulling him close and getting to the ground. Stiles looked around, trying to listen to what was happening.

“Get under the jeep,” he whispered, pushing Eli to safety.

Stiles moved to see what was going on but staying as low as possible. Rather than everyone running, they seemed frozen in place. The teachers had moved all the students close to building but not inside. Looking around more Stiles saw it.

A deer that had been mauled by something and was near death was running across the elementary school court yard. Stiles watched as the deer’s skin ripped and it crumpled to the ground, blood and gore leaking into the grass.

“Stiles,” Eli whimpered, pulling his attention.

“Hey buddy,” Stiles said softly, pulling Eli out from under the jeep since there was no visible threat. He wiped tears off of Eli’s face and smiled at him. “It’s okay. Everyone is safe, just a deer running around and scaring people,” Stiles assured him and Eli nodded, calming down. “You did so good, dude. I’m so proud of you,” he smiled, hugging Eli tightly.

Stiles hadn’t wanted to scare him but he also wanted to keep him safe and if he needed a hug now, so be it. Stiles picked Eli up and pulled out his phone, calling his dad.

“I know someone’s probably already called but there’s a deer laying in the grass in front of the elementary school. Deaton can’t help this one, though,” Stiles said.

Sheriff Noah Stilinski sighed. “You’re about the tenth person to call… Why are you at the elementary school?”

“Picking up Eli,” Stiles said. He didn’t need to clarify why. Derek and Eli had become such an important part of his life, there was no need to. He had Eli a lot.

“Did he see anything,” Sheriff asked worriedly.

“Uh, no but I might have scared him a little bit…”

“Poor kid,” Sheriff mumbled. “There’s officers on the way to manage traffick and animal control for the rest. You get Eli home.”

“Will do. Talk to you later, dad,” Stiles said, hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket. He placed his free hand on Eli’s back. “Why don’t we just go home, buddy? I’ll even let you have a little ice cream.”

Stiles hurried Eli into the jeep, pulling out his phone to text Derek as he got in. Something was wrong.

He took Eli back to Derek’s house. Eli didn’t leave Stiles’s side for a second. He was still glued to Stiles when Derek and Cora got back.

Derek scooped Eli up in a hug, holding him close. Stiles took the chance and got up to go pee. He met Derek’s eyes when he stood up.

Derek mouthed ‘thank you’ as he held his kid.

Stiles smiled at him and headed for the bathroom. When he got back, he didn’t see anyone. He wandered into the kitchen for a drink and found Cora.

“Hey, where’s Derek and Eli,” Stiles asked, leaning on the counter.

She hummed, closing one cabinet and opening another. “They’re in Eli’s room. Derek’s trying to distract him with toys and shit.” Cora said, groaning when she couldn’t find whatever she was looking for. “Where the fuck does he keep the peanut butter?”

“Eli’s allergic to peanuts but there’s sunflower butter in the tall cabinet,” Stiles said. He walked over, opening the tall cabinet, moving a few cans and pulling out the jar of sunflower butter.

Cora looked at Stiles suspiciously. “You’re sure familiar with the kitchen,” she commented, taking the jar and setting it on the counter with the bread and jelly she’d already found. “Any particular reason for that?”

“Derek asks me to help out with Eli and I do,” Stiles said, grabbing a packet of fruit snacks and sitting at the counter.

“You must help a lot if you know exactly where the peanut butter is,” Cora suggested, looking down at her sandwich. There was no way these two idiots were just friends. Derek might be stupid but he couldn’t be so stupid to have not made a move in the three years she’d been gone.

He shrugged. “Guess you could say that. Eli likes pb&j after swimming so I figured it out.”

“You take him swimming a lot,” Cora asked, feigning curiosity.

“No so much anymore,” Stiles said, breathing out heavily as he thought. “He used to want to go swimming everyday. Recently, though, he’s been wanting to wander the preserve more but he still likes playing in the pond out there.” He smiled, adding “Der blames that on me but I doubt you guys didn’t do the same as kids. “

Cora hummed. “That nickname, he lets you call him that? You know, I used to call him Der-bear when we were little– he had this whole thing with carebears— but he doesn’t let me use my nickname for him so I’m just�� confused as to why he’s okay with you using one.”

“Der-bear, really,” Stiles asked, huffing a laugh. “The nickname thing is a Derek question.”

“I only ask because you two seem,” Cora thought a moment, “closer than last time I was here.”

“Cora, if you want to ask me if I’m dating your brother then just ask,” Stiles said.

“I wasn’t—”

“I’ve had this conversation with Peter too, only he choose to comment about Derek, Eli, and I making a day trip to the beach and then about how I was the only adult Derek had one-on-one time with outside of work,” Stiles said. “You both seem to like dancing around the subject.”

“I am nothing like Peter. You take that back,” Cora scoffed. “And I was getting there.”

“Then just ask.”

“Fine. Are you dating my brother?”

“No,” Stiles said. “We’re friends and Derek trusts me to take care of Eli because we went through Hell and back.”

“But you have feelings for him,” Cora said and Stiles sighed.

“Even if I do—”

“You do.”

“Even if I do,” Stiles repeated, “it doesn’t matter. Derek and I are friends. I won’t risk losing him and Eli for a fling that could ruin everything. I wouldn’t do that to them.”

Cora nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. Without the discussion to distract her, she realized how weird the sunflower peanut butter tasted. After a few bites, she couldn't finish it and dropped the food back onto the plate. “This tastes awful,” she mumbled.

“Ya, the ‘sunbutter’ kind of tastes like dirt,” Stiles said, making air quotes for the name as he said it.

“I didn’t know Eli was allergic to peanuts. How did I not know,” Cora asked, concern in her voice.

“Oh, it scared the shit out of us,” Stiles huffed. “The first time he had peanuts, he was fine. The next time he had a little bit of a rash but he’d also had dragon fruit for the first time so we didn’t think it was the peanuts butter. But the last time? He broke out it hives and was coughing…” he shook his head. “We drove him to the hospital– Derek was doing his whole internal freak out where he looks fine to everyone else but we know– and they gave him a shot. They watched him until they were sure he was good and then sent us home. Little shit went right to sleep.”

Cora rolled her eyes, “I bet Derek was still freaking out.”

“Oh, ya. Big time,” Stiles said. “I don’t think either of us slept. I didn’t know werewolves could have allergies.”

“Once he starts shifting, it should go away,” Cora explained.

“Derek said that too but I’m not sure he’ll ever let Eli have peanuts again.”

“Derek used to be allergic to dogs before he grew out of it,” Cora said, poking at her sandwich disappointedly.

Stiles watched Cora’s face, looking for any sign of it being a joke. “Derek, who can now fully shift into a wolf, used to be allergic to dogs,” he asked, devolving in to laughter. “That’s fucking awesome.”

“Mom had to make a rule about shifting in the house because of it,” she added.

Once Eli had calmed down and was no longer stuck to Derek or Stiles, they discussed what they should do. Stiles made the suggestion of going to the school and Derek agreed. Cora, after learning what was going on, offered to watch Eli while they went to the school later that evening.

When they got there, the dead deer was gone but the blood was harder to remove. They had tried to wash it away but Derek way still able to follow the smell of blood. Stiles made a joke about Derek sticking his head out the window and got a glare in return. They decided to stay in the jeep until they had to get out since it was getting dark. Stiles drove slowly, letting Derek give directions based on the smell.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Derek mumbled, kicking himself internally.

“You couldn’t have known,” Stiles said. “Besides, it’s not like you could have done anything. He didn’t see anything. He just got scared and that was honestly my fault for over reacting.”

Derek nodded. “Thank you for protecting him.”

“Like I’d let anything hurt him,” Stiles scoffed. “Hell, I was fully ready to take a bullet for him today.” Stiles licked his lips as the thought sunk in. He was completely ready to put himself in front of a shooter, unarmed, to protect Eli.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Ya, I’m good. It’s just the first time in a long time I really thought my life could be on the line, ya know?”

“Stop here,” Derek said and Stiles pulled over.

The lights of the jeep pointed at a wooded area not too far from the school and Stiles groaned.

“Always the fucking trees,” Stiles groaned. “This is a new shirt. And there’s probably ticks.”

Stiles turned off the jeep and they got out. He walked around to the back and Derek stood close by. He opened the jeep and grabbed his bat, handing it to Derek, and pulled out a jacket, his old red one.

“The fact that that still fits you is…” Derek looked over Stiles, how he had packed muscle onto his thin frame, “crazy…”

Stiles closed the back of the jeep and took his bat back from Derek. “The fact that it has no rips or holes is crazy,” he said. Stiles started to to walk towards the trees. Derek grabbed his arm, stopping him. Stiles looked at the hand on his arm and up to Derek’s eyes. “What?”

Derek’s mouth hung open as his brain caught up to his actions. “It’s been a while since the last time we did this, so let me take the lead.”

“Only because near death is my least favorite type of experience,” Stiles agreed.

They started into the trees, arms brushing past each other as they walked. They both noticed how close they were but didn’t move away. Being close was comforting, safe. Derek was also able to keep Stiles from tripping on downed branches and holes, especially as they walked deeper into the woods.

Stiles was about to pop off some snarky comment or another when Derek stopped moving. Knowing what that meant by now, Stiles stopped too. He saw Derek tense up like a dog with its hackles raised and he tightened the grip on his bat.

“What is it, Der,” Stiles whispered, looking around for a sign of movement.

Derek started walking again, holding a hand out for Stiles to wait where he was, not that he listened. As they walked, the smell of blood got stronger and was joined by decay. Stiles grimaced, pulling his jacket up to cover his nose.

“What the fuck,” Stiles muttered, his eyes finding the source of the smell.

In front of them was a dead coyote that had been well snacked on and a flat rock with a bloody blob that the flies had taken too on top. As Derek looked over the dead coyote, Stiles inched closer to the red blob.

“It stinks of a werewolf. An omega, I’d guess,” Derek said, keeping his voice low.

“So we don’t have to worry about a pack,” Stiles asked, his voice muffled by the jacket and his pinched nose.

“No but its violent,” Derek grumbled. “It ripped out this coyote’s heart.”

The rock looked like it had been placed intentionally, almost like a table. The smell got significantly worse as he got closer. Shooing away the flies, the piece of bloody meat was revealed.

“Ah, shit,” Stiles winced. “Well, I found the heart.”

Derek was at Stiles’s side in seconds, a little closer than necessary, to look at what he’d found. They were so close that Stiles could feel his hood brushing against Derek’s shoulder. If he’d noticed, Derek didn’t move away. They’d become rather comfortable in each others personal space.

“Looks cult-ish if you ask me,” Stiles said, leaning his bat against his leg so he had free hands to pull his phone out and snap a picture. He wanted to be able to reference the details later when he did more research into types of rituals. It was the first solid lead they’d gotten so far.

Derek heard something and turned to look around. It was a small noise, like a twig snapping a ways off. It was probably just a rabbit or animal that was supposed to be out there but considering where they were… He felt on edge. They were taking a risk being out here, just the two of them. If the rouge wolf was out here and looking to pick a fight, they were open on all sides. While the dark wouldn’t effect the wolves as much, it put Stiles at a disadvantage. Derek kept looking around, listening as Stiles mumbled about what it might be and what the display could mean.

A flash of blue caught Derek’s attention. He tensed, watching closely. The blue glow settled becoming a clear set of eyes. Eyes that met Derek’s. The blood red of his own eyes showing through. They needed to leave.

He grabbed Stiles’s jacket, looking around intently. “We need to go,” he said, not giving Stiles time to react before pulling him away.

“Shit,” Stiles huffed, stumbling over his own feet. “Wait, Derek, I dropped my bat.”

“Leave it. I’ll get you a new one,” he growled, moving faster.

Derek kept looking behind them, cursing under his breath.

“What’s chasing us,” Stiles huffed, out of breath from half running, half being dragged behind Derek. He kept tripping as he tried to keep up.

At some point, he gave up on Stiles running to keep up. Derek hardly paused, throwing Stiles over his shoulder, and kept moving. They got back to the jeep in what was surely record time, even for them. Derek shoved Stiles in the passenger seat and got in the driver’s seat. He turned on the lights, watching.

“Give me the keys,” Derek said frantically, “now, Stiles!”

Derek watched the treeline carefully, growing more nervous by the second. Stiles dug through his pockets, trying to find them. Not in his jacket. Not in his back pocket. Left… Right… Right!

“Keys,” Stiles shouted, shoving them into Derek’s hand.

He shoved the keys in the ignition and started the jeep. The engine clicked as he turned the key, not starting.

“Come on, Roscoe” Stiles mumbled, looking between he trees and Derek. “Come on. Come on— OH FUCK,” he yelled, watching as a dark shape came running out of the trees.

The engine turned over, starting just in time. Derek threw the jeep in reverse, cursing the clutch as he slowly sped up.

“It’s catching up,” Stiles said, watching the werewolf following them while Derek watched behind them, driving in reverse as fast as he could.

When they got to the first intersection, Derek used the opportunity to whip the jeep around. He turned hard, shifting to neutral to control the spin. He shifted into drive and took off.

Stiles sat in the passenger seat, looking at Derek. “Where the fuck did you learn that,” he asked, not sure if he was terrified or turned on. Maybe a little bit of both…

“I was on the run from the FBI,” Derek said, keeping an eye on the dark road behind them.

Derek had deemed it important that they figure out what was going on tonight and make a game plan. They had been too close to the werewolf and it now had their scents. It knew who they were.

They picked up Eli and made their way to Stiles’s apartment. It wasn’t far from where Derek’s loft had been years before, meaning it wasn’t exactly the most secure area. Nonetheless, Stiles taught Eli to play chess while Derek went out to get stuff for dinner since Stiles’s fridge was near empty– that tended to happen when they ate at Derek’s as much as they had been.

Elli got bored well before Derek got back so Stiles handed over his switch. With Eli sufficiently distracted, Stiles pulled the hanging cork board out, using a map of the town to pinpoint the recent troubles of Beacon Hills. Things just didn’t seem to line up. Stiles looked at the map of where the animals had been left: his dad’s house, the grocery store, the diner, the police station, the elementary school, the pool, the hospital, Deaton’s vet office… The places where the dead animals were appearing didn’t have an obvious pattern.

When Derek got back with groceries, he found Stiles looking between his laptop and the cork board and Eli playing on the switch in the other room.

“Did you figure anything out,” Derek asked, setting the bags on the counter.

Stiles hummed, not really in agreement or disagreement, more in the way of acknowledging he heard but was too preoccupied to answer. Derek rolled his eyes at the response and started cooking, waiting for Stiles to pull his mind out of the research.

Derek was almost done cooking when Stiles seemed to come out of the digital world with a start.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Stiles said, his eyes finding Derek in the kitchen. “I mean, there’s a lot of rituals surrounding the heart, and I mean a lot but nothing that this matches. There was not runes, not pictures, nothing! Plus, a lot of rituals that we would actually need to worry about require a human heart and I’m pretty sure that was the coyote’s heart!”

Derek remembered the smell, well. He waited for the break in words before adding, “it was the coyote’s heart.”

“Great, then what the fuck is going on,” Stiles asked rhetorically.

“Stiles, you can’t say that! That’s a bad word,” Eli said, looking between Derek and Stiles wide eyed. “I’m joking. I know you say bad words. So does dad,” he said, walking over to the table.

Derek looked down at the counter, taking a deep breath, before looking at Stiles. “That’s your fault,” he said as Stiles tried not to laugh. “You think it’s funny? Then you get to deal with that when he’s a teenager.”

Stiles scoffed. “Oh, please. I have heard enough from Cora and Peter to know you were a handful in high school, too.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response other than to say, they are both unreliable narrators,” Derek argued, turning to get Eli’s plate which consisted mac and cheese and hot dogs– seemingly the only thing the kid ate. “Eat your food and then grab your book out of your backpack. You’ve had more than enough video game time.”

“Jeez, dad, you’re so boring,” Stiles mumbled, making Eli smile. “Listen to your dad, Eli. You don’t want to make him mad. Trust me, I know. I used to make him really mad a lot.”

“Used to,” Derek shot back questioningly.

“Yup, because now you willingly come over and cook me dinner,” Stiles said with a grin. “I annoyed you until you l—” He cut his words short, making eye contact with Derek. He seemed amused, though it didn’t look all that different from his normal unamused face. “Alright, Eli. You have to tell us all about your day now,” Stites said, moving to sit at the table with Eli while Derek finished cooking.

Scott finally called back and Stiles started to explain what was going on, having to switch to a video call so Scott could get the “full understanding” with the help of the cork board he had set up in the middle of his apartment.

“Then Derek and I found the dead coyote in the trees by Eli’s school and its heart had been ripped out and displayed on a rock like it was a table! I was trying to look up what might be happening but it didn’t have any of the needed symbols or killing method for a ritual sacrifice,” Stiles explained, seeing Derek walk to the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

“Have you stopped to think that I might be right,” Scott asked. “If it doesn’t seem like a ritual, then it might just be some teenagers who—”

“What about the deer, Scott? That was planned. It wanted us to go looking,” Stiles argued. “So, I did some more research and I kept seeing stuff about how killing and offering food is a pretty normal habit when it comes to mating behaviors in predators and— oh, thanks Der,” Stiles said, stopping his ramble to take the pate of food from Derek.

“Eli’s asleep in your room,” Derek said, casting a quick glare at Scott on the computer screen.

“Shit, am I being too loud? I didn’t wake him up, did I,” Stiles asked with a mouth full of food.

Derek shook his head, looking over Stiles and then the board. “Not yet. You should have just used my office. The house was build with werewolf hearing in mind.”

Stiles nodded, “I know but I didn’t want to make a mess—”

“Swallow before you talk,” Derek grumbled, a mix of disgust and humor in his voice.

Stiles rolled his eyes, swallowing the mouthful of food that would rival Scooby Doo. “Mine, Dad. Don’t ground me,” he joked, meeting Derek’s eyes.

Something in the way Derek looked at him made his stomach feel like it was trying to digest itself. They had become close. Sharing a meal and spending time at each other’s place had become normal. Derek and Eli had become a big part of Stiles’s life

“Uh, guys,” Scott said awkwardly after a long stretch of, what was for him, very uncomfortable silence.

Stiles’s eye snapped to his computer, remembering that Scott was, in fact, still on the phone. He held the plate out to Derek, nearly choking on the food still in his mouth as he tried to start talking again as if nothing had happened.

Derek put Stiles’s plate on the table next to his own. He sat down to eat, his eyes casting up to watch Stiles’s wild gesturing as he explained his theories to Scott. Quick glances at Stiles soon turned into outright staring. Derek shook his head, going back to eating, and if a small smile found it’s way to his lips, then so be it.

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Stiles found himself laying on his couch, wanting nothing more than to crash but his apartment felt too empty and quiet. Derek had taken Eli home to go to bed a few hours ago, leaving everything simultaneously too quiet and too loud at the same time. He liked having them around, it made the apartment feel less lonely.

He was trying to gather the energy to peel himself off the couch for a shower when the doorbell buzzed it’s broken noise.

Stiles sat up in surprise. Who the fuck would be ringing the doorbell at– he looked at the time– one in the god damned morning? Anyone who he’d expect knew the doorbell was crap and both his dad and Derek had a key– for ‘emergencies’ only– and would normally just knock before walking in.

He got up, going to grab his bat and remembering it was gone. He mentally cursed, feeling a bit like a sitting duck without it. He walked closer to the door and looked out the peephole but nobody was there. That didn’t sit well with him. Stiles made sure the door was locked and decided this was worth having a weapon in case shit went sideways.

When he returned to the door with his gun– the one assigned to him as a deputy– he looked through the peephole again and, again, there was nobody. He unlocked the door, opening it slowly. His stomach dropped when the door’s movement made something wooden fall. His bat.

Stiles looked around cautiously before kneeling to grab the bat and closing the door to his apartment quickly. Relocking the door, he set his gun down on the counter and looked over the bat. It was his all right, the wear and tear proved that. He turned it over in his hands, finding a heart carved into it. He looked at it closer, tracing it with his finger. It was roughly carved and had jagged edges, like it had been done with claws instead of a knife. Comparing it with the other damage on the bat only seemed to confirm the unsettling conclusion.

Almost on instinct, he called Derek.

“You’ll never guess what just appeared outside my door,” Stiles said. He was met by silence so he kept talking. “Either I’m a wizard and learned how to summon things without words or our new buddy returned my bat. And, get this, carved a heart into it.”

Stiles heard a heavy breath and sheets ruffling on the other end. “Are you okay,” Derek asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“Fuck, did I wake you up,” Stiles cringed, looking at the time again. “Sorry, Der. I’m fine. It’s all good, just a little odd.”

Derek sighed and the sheets ruffled again. “Do you want to stay here,” he asked and Stiles’s stomach did flips.

“No, I’ll be okay,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair. “Just thought you’d want to know I had a visitor.”

“You should—” Derek yawned— “mountain ash the doors and windows.”

Stiles nodded, grabbing his gun and walking to his bookshelf in search of the little box. “Doing it now. I’ll call you in the morning. You’ll be the first one I tell if I die.”

Derek hummed. “Bye Stiles.”

“Bye Der,” Stiles mumbled, hanging up.

Without Derek on the other end of the phone, Stiles was suddenly hyper aware of how alone he was. Of how dark his apartment was. He opened the box and took a handful of mountain ash and set the box back on the shelf.

Something in the back of his head screamed he was in danger, telling him not to turn around. He could hear how his heart rate picked up and how his breathing matched it. He felt like someone was watching him.

Stiles took a breath and flipped off the safety his gun, biting back the fear.

“Alright, motherfucker. I have mountain ash, a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets, and an itchy trigger finger. I’d suggest not fucking with me, tonight,” Stiles said.

The words wouldn’t due much but it made him feel better, less like he was being watched.

He spun around, making a visual sweep of the room. His apartment was so quiet he could hear his own pulse. Looking around, he remembered just how many windows he had. Any other time, the light would be great but right now it had him cursing under his breath. He kept the safety off as he spread the mountain ash across every entry to the apartment. He also did his bedroom and closet doors for good measure. Before he went to bed, he flicked on all the lights to do one more sweep, including checking under his bed.

He felt a little childish when he laid down but it was good for his sanity.

Stiles woke up to his phone ringing and banging on his front door. He sat up groggily, having only gotten a few hours of sleep. He grabbed his phone and walked to his front door. He opened the door, finding Derek. He tried to walk it and got knocked on his ass by the mountain ash barrier.

“Fuck, sorry,” Stiles mumbled, kicking the ash and helping Derek up. “Are you okay?”

“Are you,” Derek asked, sounding almost out of breath. He grabbed Stiles’s arms as if to make sure he was really there and in one piece. He looked panicked, still in his bed clothes.

“Ya, I’m good,” Stiles mumbled. “I’m fucking exhausted, though. Why’d you wake me up?”

Derek looked at Stiles like he was crazy. “You called me last night saying you had a— visitor,” he whispered the last word, pulling Stiles back into the apartment.

He closed the door behind them, not letting go of Stiles. Derek’s eyes looked Stiles’s over, making sure he wasn’t hurt. Somehow, the fact the Stiles wasn’t wearing a shirt didn’t cross his mind and neither did their proximity. Derek had pulled Stiles closer when they moved inside. There was hardly a foot of distance between them. It would have been so easy to just lean in…

Derek let go of Stiles, chewing his lip as the thoughts stuck around, and started to walk around the apartment, looking at each window.

Stiles felt like he was still dreaming. None of the last few seconds made sense outside of being a dream. By the time he looked up, Derek was walking further into the apartment. “Hey, my bedroom—” Stiles sighed, watching Derek bounce off yet another mountain ash barrier. “Too late.”

Stiles walked over, breaking the ash line so Derek could walk through. He nervously watched as Derek searched for any sign of the other werewolf. He didn’t find anything and walked back over to Stiles.

“All clear,” he asked and Derek nodded, once more in his personal space. “Great. Can I—”

“Where’s the bat,” Derek asked.

Stiles blinked trying to remember. “Uh, by the door, I think. Where it usually is.”

Derek turned and walked off. Stiles, not having anything else to do, followed him. Derek picked up the bat, examining it.

“Like I said, it’s my bat,” Stiles shrugged, crossing his arms. “They carved a heart into it but— AH! You just broke my bat,” Stiles said in disbelief, staring at Derek who had half the bat in each hand. “That was my fucking bat!”

Derek growled, throwing the broken pieces in the trash. “I already told you, I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new bat. I want my bat,” Stiles objected. “I went to hell and back with that thing! It has a burnt chunk from Parish! A ring from the ghost rider’s lasso! Claw marks from– well– everything! I think you even put some marks on it.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’s flailing hands, holding them tightly in his. “Stiles,” he said firmly, standing so close they were practically on top of of each other, “you don’t want it anymore.” His tone reminded Stiles of how he’d explain to Eli something he wanted was dangerous. That same mix of worry and stress and fear he’d end up hurt in Derek’s voice. “You don’t take anything it gives you or it will follow you. Accepting the gifts is accepting it.”

From then on, both Stiles and Derek were on high alert. This wolf had found where Stiles lived, had gotten into the apartment building, and all the way to Stiles’s door. If it had wanted to do something, it could have. If it wanted to get in, it would have. Sure, Stiles wasn’t helpless but he also wasn’t prepared for a random attack. And, personally, Stiles really didn’t feel like having to defend his life in his boxers.

It became a routine. Every night, Stiles would call Derek when he got off work and headed home, talking to him as he checked his apartment and laid down mountain ash. Every morning, Derek would swing by Stiles’s apartment before Stiles would leave for his shift. Every morning he found nothing. There was no sign nor scent of the other wolf. It seemed to be weighing on Derek. Each day he looked more tired than the last.

Derek glared at the large windows in Stiles’s bedroom, one which that let out to the fire escape. “I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“I’m not the biggest fan of it either, Der,” Stiles mumbled, only half awake. “I’m fucking exhausted because all of my dreams– nightmares, really– have been about getting mauled in my sleep. You're back to being your old self, meaning you growl at anything that breathes wrong and—”

“I meant the fire escape,” Derek snapped and Stiles had to remind himself that pissed off Derek was, in fact, not attractive. “Easy access for anyone willing to come looking.”

“So, the shit you used to pull,” Stiles asked, teasingly. Normally Derek would take it in good humor and throw something similar back at him. “You do remember that the fact that my bedroom window at dad's house wouldn’t lock was your fault?”

Derek glared at Stiles, not in the mood for jokes. “If you remember, I fixed it. Just like I fixed your jeep.”

“Why are you so pissed off,” Stiles asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought we were past the whole taking your anger out on innocent parties thing?”

“Shut up,” Derek growled, walking back towards the living room.

Stiles, gritted his teeth, pretending to strangle Derek as he walked away. He followed Derek to the living room

“You’re being a fucking asshole, you know that,” Stiles huffed. Derek turned to glare at him. Not attractive. Nope. Not at all. “I didn’t do anything to deserve you treating me like a clueless teenager all over again. Go be shitty to Peter, he more than deserves it!”

“Peter has been watching Eli,” Derek said. “I come here before he wakes up and I go on patrol after he’s asleep. Someone has to watch him.”

“What about Cora,” Stiles asked.

“She’s already gone. Can’t stand to be in here more than a few days,” Derek grumbled, the hurt of his sister leaving over and over thinly veiled.

“You’ve go to be fucking kidding, right? Of course she can’t stand it here! I’m surprised you can,” Stiles said. “I mean, after every shitty thing this town has thrown at you, why do you stay? What about Eli?”

“Eli is fine,” Derek growled.

“What makes you so sure,” Stiles asked. “I mean, I doubt you ever thought what happened to your family would happen and your pack—”

Derek shoved Stiles against the wall, holding him there. “Stop. Talking.” Stiles could see the anger in Derek’s eyes but he could see the hurt behind it too.

He was trying to meet Derek’s eyes but his lips were distracting. They were so close, he could feel Derek’s breath, pulling Stiles’s eyes lower. This isn’t attractive, he reminded himself. Fuck, he felt like a stupid hormonal teenager again. He was too caught in his own reaction to notice Derek’s very similar one.

“A bit familiar, isn’t this,” Stiles asked in a whisper. There was no need to be louder with how close they were. “Earth to Derek. Are you planning to kiss me or kill me? Shoving me against the wall is giving mixed signals.”

Derek didn’t say anything, rather he furrowed his brow in what was somewhere between constipation and thinking which Stiles knew was reserved for things he refused to talk about. He let go of Stiles, backing up to straighten his jacket. Derek looked out the window, gathering his thoughts, and Stiles waited expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “That’s it,” he asked. “You pull out the old douche-bag act on someone who is supposed to be your friend and all you say is sorry? Not even going to record it? Grab a ukulele and make a sorry-not-sorry type song?”

Derek huffed a laugh and looked at Stiles, “what do you want, a cake?”

“Actually, yes! Apology baked goods would be great,” Stiles said, crossing his arms. “Now, why are you acting all,” he gestured to Derek, “weird? Is it lack of sleep because, seriously Der, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Derek grumbled.

“Dude, call into work for a day. You look exhausted and it’s not like you’re going to fire yourself for it,” Stiles said.

“I said, I’m fine,” Derek repeated. “And don’t call me dude.”

“I don’t believe you,” Stiles said stubbornly. “Go home, take Eli to school, and get some sleep.”

“Stiles—”

“Derek, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said, crossing his arms. “Try me. I have wolfsbane and mountain ash. You’ll get some sleep one way or another.”

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Stiles walked out of the police station, heading to the jeep after a shit load of paper work. He was so tired, his eyes were starting to blur and it was already getting dark. He wanted to kick himself for parking the jeep in the back lot as the cold wind bit at his skin. It was a long cold walk to the jeep.

When his eyes found the jeep he groaned. “Fuck me,” he grumbled, staring at what he was 90% sure was blood on the hood and a bag of something.

How the fuck was this his life? He trudged closer and, upon closer inspection, found the blood streaks formed a heart. The bag sat in the middle of the heart and was soaked in blood. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, feeling like pulling it out. Instead, he pulled out his phone and took a picture, sending it to Derek.

Stiles used a pen to drag the bag off the hood and onto the ground. He grabbed a water bottle out of the jeep and stabbed a hole it the lid. He sprayed the water on the hood, getting most of the blood off. It made him uncomfortable that it came off so easily, it meant it was fresh. He debated if it would be worse to look in the bag or toss it and go on not knowing. Stiles decided to look, the anxiety that it could be– like– his dad’s severed fingers winning over the risk of being seen as ‘accepting’ the gift.

He grabbed the top of the bag, trying to touch it as little as possible. Inside was a pile of wolfsbane flowers, a folded piece of paper, and a ring coated in dirt and dried blood.

Stiles unfolded the paper, reading it. His eyes went wide and he shoved it all back in the bag and threw it in the jeep.

He jumped in and called Derek. He started to drive, impatiently waiting for Derek to answer the phone.

“Stiles? What’s going on,” Derek asked tiredly, his recent habit on twenty hour days wearing on him.

“I found a little gift display in the jeep after I left work,” Stiles told him. “I think out forest friend likes me.”

“What kind of gift,” Derek asked, feeling frozen in place. Stiles could heard the stress in his voice.

“Well, it drew a heart on my hood in what I assume was it’s own blood since it picked me lovely bouquet of wolfsbane flowers. It wrote me an interesting poem— the kind a stalker would leave– and, oh ya, a fucking engagement ring!”

“Come here. It could follow you home,” Derek told him.

“What about Eli,” Stiles asked, driving away from the station lest his new buddy be hanging around still.

“I’ll call Peter,” Derek said without hesitation. He had to be worried if he was willing to ask Peter for help. “It’s less likely to do something in my house.”

Stiles made the turn for Derek’s house. “Ya, okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Derek said. He’d wait for Stiles. He’d wait in more ways than he’d admit.

Stiles didn’t hang up. He didn’t have anything more to say, he just didn’t want to. Derek didn’t hang up either. They just let the silence rest between them as Stiles drove. Stiles didn’t hang up until he was pulling into the driveway.

Derek walked over to the jeep, opening the door for Stiles. He took the bloody bag from Stiles’s hands and stayed close as he got out. He kept a hand on Stiles’s back as they walked to the front door.

Once Stiles was inside, Derek stopped and looked around. They were being watched and it wasn’t happy but neither was he. Derek walked inside, locking the door behind him. If it wanted a fight, it’d be on Derek’s terms.

Stiles was pacing in the living room, his hands visibly shaking. He was freaking out, piecing things together in his head. All the dead animals were found in places he went to. There were dead animals at the grocery store he went to but not the one across town. They were found at the diner but not that chinese place he refused to go to. They were found at Eli’s school, at the police station, all along Stiles’s patrol route, everywhere he went regularly.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, dropping the bag on the coffee table. It was like he hadn’t said anything, like Stiles didn’t hear him. “Stiles,” he said more firmly, walking closer to him. He touched Stiles’s arm and finally got his attention.

He was looking at Derek with wide eyes. Before Derek could say anything, Stiles started to ramble. “It’s me. I’m the pattern. That’s why it was at my apartment and I keep finding the dead animals. It’s after me and I came here. It could have followed me. What if it followed me? What if it tries something? What about Eli? Fuck, Eli’s not safe with me. Not safe with me here. What if it tries to hurt Eli because of me? What if it hurts you? I can’t stay here! I can’t go to my dad’s! I’m putting everyone in danger. I have to leave. Derek, it—”

“Stiles,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles by his arms to hold him in place. “Breathe. It’s not going to come in here. It’d have to be insane and damn near suicidal to challange me in my own home.”

The smell of anxiety and guilt circled Stiles like a hurricane. The smell was bitter, it stung Derek’s nose. He hated when Stiles got worked up like this. He swore Stiles’s chemosignals were stronger than other people’s. Stiles didn’t know the definition of the word subtle and neither did his emotions. He felt things in the extreme or not at all. Derek could never decide if it was the ADHD or if it was just who Stiles was. Maybe it wasn’t either, maybe Derek was just paying too much attention to him. Stiles met Derek’s eyes and the swirl of emotion started to dissipate.

It was leaving dead animals all along Stiles’s path except at Derek’s shop and Derek’s house. It never got close or left ‘gifts’ when he was with Derek. It was everywhere… except where Derek was.

“It’s after me but wonn’t come near you,” Stiles said. “Oh, I bet it’s real pissed off right now…”

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Stiles felt calm for the first time in weeks. It was just him, Eli, and Derek having a movie night like they normally would.

They'd made homemade pizza– aka they made the dough from a packet and added the toppings themselves instead of a frozen one– for dinner and made popcorn afterwards. Eli had picked out a movie and they'd all sat on the couch together like normal. Eli didn't even make it through the first half of the movie before falling asleep, leaning on Stiles.

Stiles played with Eli’s hair as he slept, watching the movie in the brief moment of peace. He wanted to keep these memories forever, the times where everything just felt right. With Eli asleep tucked into his side and Derek quietly laughing at the movie. If it could last forever, he'd happily deal with the popcorn kernels stuck in his teeth. It was moments like that when it all seemed to make sense.

When the movie ended, Derek got up and took their mugs to the kitchen. He came back with fresh tea for Stiles and himself. He started another movie and sat down on the couch again.

“I’ve missed doing this,” Stiles said. “Things have been too…”

“Too much like the past,” Derek offered.

“Ya. Reminiscent but not in a good way,” Stiles decided.

Derek hummed, pulling Eli’s blanket up. “We all needed this. A night where things are back to normal,” he sighed, pushing Eli’s hair off his face.

Eli’s nose scrunched in his sleep and he turned his head into Stiles, curling in closer.

Stiles’s smiled, wrapping an arm around the sleeping kid. “It’s weird to think that this is our normal now. I mean, you’re a dad. I’m a cop. Scott’s in LA doing god knows what. Scott used to be my best friend and now I couldn’t even tell you the street he lives on but I could find your house blindfolded,” he huffed, trying to laugh it off. “It’s crazy to think that, out of everything, you and Eli are the most important things in my life,” he said, the words coming out before he could think them through. “Shit, sorry, That was weird.”

“You and Eli,” Derek said, nodding. “You two are the most important parts of my life.”

Stiles looked at Derek. He felt like his heart was going to explode. “Really? Not Cora or Malia or even Peter?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Stiles, do you realize how much of an impact you’ve made on my life? You’ve helped me raise Eli. When I bought the garage, you watched Eli every day so I could get things sorted out.”

“What else where you going to do,” Stiles asked, brushing it off. “He was, what, one?”

“Eli and I lived in your apartment when construction on this house got delayed and then you helped us move in here.”

“Well, ya. Keeping a three-year-old were-toddler in a hotel would have sucked and you needed help,” Stiles shrugged.

“You call in favors and switch your shifts around whenever I need you to pick Eli up from school or drop him off,” Derek says “You bought him toys and games that stay at your apartment or your dad’d house.”

“My dad loves Eli! He says he gets to have all the fun of having a kid without the hard parts.”

“Eli calls your dad grandpa,” Derek said, not sure how Stiles kelp acting like this was all nothing.

Stiles paused. “Okay, you got me on that one… Why are you bringing this all up?”

“I just…” Derek stared back at Stiles, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to ruin everything but, he wondered, would saying it really ruin anything? “I don’t think you understand how important you are.” Maybe later. Maybe he could say it when things weren’t so… heavy.

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Stiles was staring at his laptop screen when he felt a person behind him. He was in the middle of typing something out, not at a point where he could stop, and gave an acknowledging hum when a hand rested on the back of his chair. They didn’t say anything, waiting for Stiles to stop typing.

“Hey, Der. I didn’t hear you come in,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. He practically jumped out of his skin when he looked up. He did jump out of the chair, staring at what was not Derek and was most definitely the werewolf they’d been attempting to track. “You’re not Derek.”

The werewolf’s smile fell. “Why do you always bring him up,” it growled. “You should forget about him. You don’t need him. You need me.”

“What,” Stiles asked, trying to move towards his bookshelf where his box of mountain ash sat.

The werewolf growled and rushed to grab Stiles. It grabbed him by the neck, shoving him against the bookshelf. Stiles winced, the wooded shelves pushing into his back.

Stiles’s hand reached out, trying for the box of mountain ash just out of reach. The werewolf snatched Stiles’s wrist, slamming it against the wooded bookshelf. Stiles lost his breath at the sharp pain, near certain his wrist was broken.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to keep me out again. I don’t like it when you do that.” Its expression softened into a grin, a calloused finger running along Stiles’s face. “So pretty. My pretty boy,” it cooed. “I finally got you alone without that nuisance. I have you all to myself.”

“What do you want,” Stiles choked up.

The werewolf smiled. “What do I want? I want you, silly. You’re mine and that mut of yours was keeping you from me. Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Nothing can stop love, not even your pet.”

“You mean Derek?”

“Him and his half-breed,” it hummed, their fingers tightening around Stiles’s neck in their anger. “They’ll never love you like I do, nobody ever will and if he’d kept out of it, we would have been together sooner.” Their grip loosened as Stiles started to turn red from the lack of oxygen. “Oh, sorry my love. I don’t mean to be too rough on you. You really shouldn’t anger me, though.”

“What’d you do to them,” Stiles hissed.

“Nothing, yet,” the wolf growled it’s grip around Stiles’s neck tightening, cutting off his air, “but if you keep bringing them up I might. You might as well forget about them now, got it?”

Stiles bit his tongue, nodding, and the grip around his neck loosened.

“Good, because in the morning we’re getting far away from here and them,” the wolf said, sounding pleased. “As for now, well, I think I’ve been very patient with you. I brought you food and gifts. I’m even willing to forgive you for ignoring me. Isn’t that so kind of me?” The wolf licked it’s lips, “you ought to be thankful. You can show me how thankful you are, can’t you?”

“I’d rather eat glass,” Stiles sneered.

“We can arrange that,” the wolf growled, its claws breaking the skin of Stiles’s neck. It let go of Stiles’s wrist, giving his a second of reprieve, before using its full strength to throw his across the room.

“You want to fight, let’s fight, but I promise you’ll regret it,” the wolf said and Stiles scrambled to his feet.

He didn’t have many options. He was down to his left had, his right wrist aching like a son of a bitch and already swelling. The wolf was between Stiles and his room, meaning no chance at the mountain ash or getting his gun. He could try for the kitchen knifes or the front door but the werewolf was faster and stronger than him.

Stiles felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He had his phone. If he could unlock it, he might be able to call someone or—

“Hey siri, call Derek Hale,” Stiles said, watching as the wolf in front of him’s eye went wide.

“Fucking whore! Calling your mutt when I’m right here,” it yelled, charging at Stiles again.

“Stiles?”

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, trying to keep distance. “Derek, it’s here. I need h—” Stiles was cut short by a hand around his throat.

“Bad decision,” the wolf growled, taking Stiles’s phone and crushing it. “Now you’ll get to watch me kill you’re little play thing. How fucking disgusting can you be, using him for safety and running off when you don’t need him. Toying with him and his kid like you have any right to them. All in front of me, too. Just to show off that you have him wrapped around your finger,” the wolf growled, trapping Stiles against the kitchen counter.

“He loves you and you use it. You take and you take and you take like you deserve it. Someone you acts like you doesn't deserve anything. Don’t worry, I know how to deal with spoiled brats like you,” it said with a sick grin. “Why don’t we have some fun while we wait for your big bad wolf to come save you?”

“Eat mistletoe and live, bitch,” Stiles choked out.

He reached behind him and grabbed a glass vial. He shoved it in the wolf’s mouth. In the moment of surprise, it’s grip on Stiles’s neck loosed. Stiles took the opportunity to headbut the wolf, breaking the glass vial full of powdered mistletoe in its mouth.

The wolf coughed, trying to breath and sucked in a mouth full of glass and poison.

Stiles scrambled to his bedroom, grabbing his gun. He heard a loud crash and turned, pointing the gun at the doorway. In the low light from the window, he saw a figure in the doorway. The lights were flicked on, blinding Stiles. Before his sight came back, the gun was out of his hands and he was wrapped in a tight hug.

“GET THE FU—”

“Stiles…”

“Derek?”

He held Stiles tighter. “You’re okay,” Derek whispered.

“I’m mostly okay,” Stiles said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt his pain starting to be leached away. “Oh shit,” he mumbled, loosing his feet but Derek held him up.

“Wait,” Stiles pulled away, “what about—”

“Drowning in his own blood,” Derek said plainly.

“I need be sure,” Stiles said, nerves clear in his voice.

He took his gun, holding it in his left hand and leading the way back to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there the werewolf was, laying on the floor. It had managed to roll onto its side, managing to get some air as the blood dripped from its mouth. Stiles scowled down at the wolf, kicking it onto its back. It coughed as blood filled it’s mouth again, the blood splattering back onto its face and the floor. It gargled on the blood, trying to get air.

It tried to reach for Stiles and Derek pulled him away, growling possessively. Breathing in the mountain ash made it too weak to move much more.

“Can you call Deaton,” Stiles asked. “I’d rather not have this creep here any longer than need be.”

The wolf smiled, coughing up more blood as it tried to laugh. “Told you… just a stupid pet…”

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Derek took Stiles to the emergency room and, sure enough, his wrist was broken. After getting a few splinters pulled out and a cast, they deemed Stiles free to go.

That night, Derek had let Stiles stay at his house. The guest room had already been made and Derek had brought him food. Stiles just laid in the bed, unable to sleep. He was paranoid something was going to happen, that the windows weren’t properly locked of warded. The room was silent, there was no noise from the outside world. While that might be great and all at any other time, it made Stiles feel completely alone. The half drawn blackout curtains made it dark, even in the day.

It felt isolating but Stiles was frozen in place, unable to change it. He didn’t sleep at all that night.

Derek came in at some point in the morning and brought him food.

“Did you sleep at all,” Derek asked, keeping his voice low. Stiles didn’t answer, staring blankly up at Derek.

What if they were right? Did Derek love him? Could he? Could anyone really love him? He was so fucked up after everything that had happened as a teen, was loveable? Did he love Derek? Of course he did. He’d always found Derek attractive and the friendship they’d build in the past years made him love Derek. He wasn’t sure what would be more painful: loving Derek and not being loved back or knowing he’d been hurting Derek with his ignorance.

“You can stay here as long as you need,” Derek told him, setting the plate of food on the nightstand. He started to ask something else but thought better, not wanting to make things worse. “There’s clothes in the dresser, just stuff you’ve left here. The bathroom is— well, you know where it is— but you can use it anytime. Uhm…” Why was he lingering? Derek sighed. “Do you want the door open or closed?”

If Derek did love him, had he been blind to it? How would he have not caught on? They were always together. He’d basically helped raise Eli in the last years and— Oh. Oh…

Stiles looked at Derek. He had said something, asked something? He was waiting for an answer…

“I’ll leave it open and you can close it if you want,” Derek finally said. “I’ll let you have some space now…”

Derek left the room, leaving the door open behind him. Stiles could hear him walk away. He heard him go down the stairs. He heard Eli digging in his Legos in the next room. He heard Eli laugh at a show he was watching. Hearing them, knowing he wasn’t alone, felt like a wave of relief washing over him and Stiles was finally able to sleep.

When he woke up, Stiles saw a tuft of hair at the edge of his bed. His heart was in his throat, too scared to move. He shifted slightly, moving the blankets. It must have startled the person at the edge of the bed as they turned to look at him.

Eli smiled up at Stiles from his spot on the floor. “Hi sleepyhead,” he said with a smile. He made quick work of climbing into the bed and getting comfortable, unplugging his headphones from the tablet so Stiles could hear.

Derek was at the door seconds later, he sighed when he saw both Eli and Stiles safe. “Eli,” he huffed, “I told you to stay to let Stiles sleep.”

“I didn’t wake him up. I waited right there on the floor,” he said firmly, frowning up at his dad. Little Eli was giving his dad the full force of the patented Hale look. Looking between Derek and Eli, the resemblance was clear. Derek had a little copy of himself but that sass was definitely Stiles’s influence. Eli had technically done what he was told and that was close enough.

“Come on, Eli. Let Stiles sleep,” Derek said, returning Eli’s frown.

Stiles saw himself in Eli’s personality. He’d taught him that– even if by accident– because he had helped take care of him. Derek trusted Stiles enough to help take care of Eli, to help raise him. That part of Eli was his doing.

“He’s okay,” Stiles mumbled, tucking a lose strand of hair behind Eli’s ear.

Derek looked surprised, happy maybe, hearing Stiles talk. He hoped it meant the shock was passing. “Okay,” he said. Derek relaxed, kissing the top of Eli’s head and turning to leave. He stopped in the doorway, watching Stiles and Eli.

Eli pressed play on an episode of Miraculous Ladybug. They’d watched it before but Eli liked rewatching them. Stiles wrapped an arm around Eli, keeping him close. Having Eli there, doing something they normally do, felt comfortable.

He was comfortable with Derek and Eli but not with being alone. He didn’t know what that said about him. Maybe he was too dependent on them. Maybe he was just trying to get over being stalked and physically assaulted when he was alone. Whatever it was, having Eli and Derek around felt normal and Stiles could really use normal at the moment.

It took Stiles a while to pull himself out of bed for more than a few minute to use the bathroom. When he did, he wanted to shower.

He opened the dresser drawer and, like Derek said, there were his clothes. They were neatly folded and stacked with care. He pulled some clothes out, looking them over. He hadn’t seen this shirt in weeks. He must have left it here. When was the last time he wore it? Maybe the last time they took Eli hiking? But that a while ago. How long had his clothes been here, neatly folded like this? When did Derek take the time to do all of this?

Stiles bundled up his change of clothes, venturing out of the guest room and into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and set his clothes on the counter. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror reminded him how badly he needed to shower. His hair was greasy and stuck up every which way. The cut on his face had dried blood coating it.

He turned the water on, letting it get warm, and opened the closet. His hand fell to the third shelf were the towels were kept. He paused. Had he really done this enough times to know exactly where the towels were? He used to give Eli baths when he was younger and would go to the pool with him and Derek a lot. Stiles shook himself out of it and took the towel, hanging it by the shower.

He stripped off his clothes, casually throwing them in the laundry hamper. Again, he wondered when that had become a habit. How many times had he just tossed his clothes in with Derek’s and Eli’s?

Stiles adjusted the water temperature and got in, sighing as the water washed over him. The warm water felt good on his skin. He felt himself relax, letting the water run over his shoulders and back. He grabbed a bottle of soap– his soap, the same brand, scent, and everything– and put it on a loofah– his loofah that stayed here. His preferred soap was in the shower along with a loofah that was his. He would often shower here to save time before going out to eat or to a movie with Derek and Eli and, sometimes, his dad. How had he never noticed before?

Stiles finished showering and dried off. He pulled on his clothes and opened the drawer on the far left of the sink. He pulled out a box of new toothbrushes Derek kept around. Stiles thought about how he knew where to find it so quickly as he put toothpaste on. As he brushed his teeth, he mentally listed things and surprised himself by knowing exactly where it would be in the bathroom.

When Stiles ventured downstairs, he found Derek and Eli in the living room, each doing their own thing. Derek was reading a book and Eli was putting together a puzzle– or they were until they noticed Stilles walking into the living room. Derek looked at him, his expression changing just the tiniest bit but Stiles knew it was a smile. Stiles returned the look and sat on the couch. He looked to the side, finding his stress ball sitting on the end table.

This was his spot. He always sat here or laid down on the couch. He knew that there would be a weighted blanket in coffee table cabinet if he wanted it– they kept it around for him. He looked at the shelf of movies, finding the random movies he’d gotten to watch with Eli and Derek, some just for him and Derek. Those movies were there because of him, so many things were there because of him.

Derek went to the kitchen some time after and Eli went back to his room to play with Legos, leaving Stiles in the living room. He stood up and stretched, wandering into the kitchen. He watched as Derek set a cup of tea on the counter, just in front of Stiles’s usual spot. It would be green tea, like usual. It was Derek’s small way of trying to get him to make healthier choices, like their cooking. Derek would add Stiles to their meals to keep him from eating Ramen and frozen burritos for every meal.

Stiles sat at the counter, smiling to himself. Maybe what happened wasn’t all bad; it made him aware of the things he did so easily. It reminded him of where he was and what those around him did. He was seeing all the things he and Eli and Derek did for each other.

It was nice to know a place for him had been carved out here even in the small ways. It was like seeing their relationship from a different perspective. He could see how people thought him and Derek were dating. It made him wonder if Derek ever thought about his as more than a friend, Stiles did.

He thought about what it would be like if him and Derek were a couple. He thought about how everything would change. Thinking about it now, Stiles realized it really wouldn’t change that much about them. They already spent most of their free time together. They already made dinner and went shopping together. They already had movie nights curled up on the couch together. They already went hiking and swimming together. They’d taken day trips to the beach together. They felt safer together. Hell, the only things that would change is that he might stay the night, that he could kiss Derek, and that he didn’t have to keep denying how he felt about it.

“What’s got you thinking so hard,” Derek asked with a smirk, sipping his tea.

Stiles sighed, looking at Derek. “Have you ever thought about us being more than friends,” Stiles asked, deciding it would be easiest to just ask and not dance around the bush. “We spend so much time together and take care of each other. Would it really be that different?”

“I have,” Derek said softly, putting his cup down. “It would be different, though. It would mean we had romantic feelings for each other.”

“Is that different,” Stiles asked, meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Is it,” Derek asked back.

“It would mean you felt the same way I do,” he said, licking his lips. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s not different except for what we call it– call us.” Stiles waited for Derek to say something but he was silent. “Do you want to? Want to be my… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever you want to call it.”

“I’d be happy to be you ‘whatever you want to call it’,” Derek said, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

Stiles smiled to himself. “Don’t be an ass about it,” he joked. “Boyfriend sounds so childish and I think of work when I say partner. I don’t know what to call it.”

Derek rounded the counter and wrapped an arm around Stiles. “We can figure that out later,” he said. “For now, we’re just us.”

“I like us,” Stiles sighed, relaxing into Derek.

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Stiles was laying down on the couch, his feet in Derek’s lap. Stiles was half watching tv and half watching Derek. He was reading, one hand holding his book and the other on Stiles’s ankle. Stiles was really liking the whole “us” thing, especially since it meant he could openly stare at Derek.

“What about significant other,” Stiles suggested.

Derek looked up from his book and at Stiles. “Don’t people normally say that when they’re married?”

“I guess so,” Stiles said. He grabbed his new phone and looked up alternatives to ‘boyfriend’ and couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you my bae,” Stiles teased and Derek cringed. “Oh, or my Boo? My flame? My suitor?”

Derek smirked, “What are you reading,” he asked.

“My companion? Lover? Admirer? Paramour? Sweetheart? My beau?”

Derek sighed, turning off Stiles’s phone. “Why don’t we just stick with significant other,” he asked.

Stiles smiled, “that works for me.”