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andreafmn · 24 days

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I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 22

Word Count: 3.1K Warnings: depictions of violence, mentions of blood

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

A/N: falling back in love with this story 🤭 just need the same motivation for my Criminal Minds fic 🫣

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That was it.

That moment was either kill or be killed.

Realization dawned upon everyone at the same time, the air in the room shifting as everyone understood what needed to be done. Even the Kanima had his own rules to carry out. Whether they wanted to or not, they had to fight Jackson, and someone had to come out of it alive.

Isaac’s grip tightened around (Y/N) as the creature unhanded Allison, its sight set on the other Argent girl. Meanwhile, her father stood between her and the creature in a protective stance. Even without a loaded weapon, he would not let more harm come to his daughter. It was clear Gerard had given Jackson a quiet command and he couldn’t ignore it.

But once free, Allison reared back and elbowed the Kanima in the face, breaking his gaze before he pushed her to the ground and out of the way. His eyes fell back on (Y/N), a murderous glint in his irises. He was tasked to kill the girl, and he wouldn’t stop until he completed his goal.

Suddenly, Stiles’ powder blue Jeep crashed through the wall, colliding straight with the Kanima. “Did I get him?” he asked, his eyes tightly shut.

His question was answered as Jackson jumped onto the car, scaring him and Lydia out of the vehicle. Stiles ran to Scott while Lydia faced the lizard version of her ex-boyfriend. As scared as she was, she knew what she had to do, obviously aware since before she came upon the creature. She dug into her pocket for a key, her head facing away from the Kanima, too afraid of his form to stare and bracing for his potential strike.

“Jackson,” she muttered as she showed him the key, stopping him dead in his tracks.

The creature’s eyes focused on the item. Suddenly, it was the most important thing on his mind. He no longer felt the uncontrollable need to kill; there was only him and his memories. It wasn’t the key, of course not, but what that little gold thing meant.

Right before everyone’s eyes, the scales started to disappear from Jackson’s body, revealing the boy under the murderous lizard. Lydia had always been the answer to their Kanima problem; they just didn’t know.

The boy stumbled back as his body continued to revert, and in the blink of an eye, Derek sprung from the ground toward him, and Peter appeared from his back, and they both dug their claws into Jackson’s stomach and back, respectively. They raised him off the ground, sinking deeper before setting him back down. Blood pooled in his mouth, and his stance faltered as weakness took over him.

Lydia was quick to help him stand, her teary eyes focused only on him. “Do you…,” he tried to speak. “Do you still…?”

“I do,” she whimpered as she nodded. “I do still love you.”

The redhead kept repeating the words as a mantra as Jackson closed his eyes and his body grew limp. They both fell to the ground as the weight took over the girl, but she never let him go. Instead, she cradled his body close to hers, whispering her goodbyes to the boy who had been her first love.

All their friends could do was stand and stare as they watched her lay him gently on the ground, witnessing the last traces of the Kanima disappear from Jackson’s face. They had gone so far and done so much, only for Derek to get what he wanted in the end.

But they were in Beacon Hills. There, sometimes, the dead didn’t stay dead for long.

As they worried about Gerard’s sudden disappearance and Lydia turned her back to Jackson, the sound of nails scraping the concrete echoed through the room. He raised from the ground and revealed the most unexpected of turns. The bite had taken, and Jackson had finally gotten what he wanted. He was finally a werewolf. And, most of all, he was alive.

“Don’t mean to break this beautiful moment here,” (Y/N) muttered. Lydia and Jackson had shared in an intimate embrace as they celebrated his reanimation and her confessions. “Still sort of bleeding out here.”

“Oh my god, (Y/N),” Allison said as realization dawned upon her. “I-I…”

“You can save your guilt for a later time,” the girl groaned. “Right now, I need to stop the bleeding.”

“Here, munchkin.” Henry ripped two strips from the bottom of his t-shirt, using them as a tourniquet for her leg and shoulder. “That should keep you stable until we get home and get you stitched up.”

“(Y/N), I’m…”

“It’s fine, Allison,” (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. “We can talk later. I just… I need to get out of here.”

“Take my car,” Chris interjected. “I’ll go back home with Allison.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, shame eating away at her mind. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

(Y/N) started to limp away with the help of her father and Isaac, ignoring the burning gaze of Derek. She could tell he wanted to reach out, to be the one helping her to the van. But he had burned that bridge with a torch and gasoline. If he ever planned on rebuilding it, he’d have to do it from the ground up.

The girl groaned with every step she took, her limbs aching and pulsing. Isaac helped her into the SUV, clicking her seatbelt for her, careful to avoid her injuries. “I can go with you,” he whispered. “Meet you at the house?”

“You should stay with Derek for now,” she said. “My mom’s gonna probably be at the house and Erica and Boyd have to be there already. I’ll send them over as soon as I can—given they actually went there.”

“But…”

“I’ll be okay, Isaac,” she assured with a weak smile. “I’ll see you later today, okay?”

“She’s in good hands, kid,” Henry said as he sat on the driver’s side of the car. “We’ll let you know when you can sneak back into the house.”

“You, uh, you know about that, sir?”

“Not much happens in my house that I don’t know about,” he chuckled. “And I know Brody is not the one eating the food in my kitchen.”

“Oh, uh, um...”

“It’s okay, Isaac,” Henry smiled. “I don’t mind. There’s always space for anyone that needs it at my house. You can stay over any time—except when my wife is at home. She’s not as generous.”

“Uh, thank you, sir,” Isaac mumbled. “I appreciate it.”

“Guys, this is a beautiful moment,” (Y/N) interrupted, “but still bleeding here.”

“Right,” her father chuckled. “We’ll let you know when you can come over.”

The car ride back home was quiet at first. Henry sped through the streets, rushing to get to his house and take care of his daughter. He knew her condition wasn’t worrisome, but it didn’t stop the concern that flooded his mind as (Y/N) grimaced and groaned from the pain. But he knew all she needed was a bit of conversation to distract her mind.

“So, you and Isaac seem close,” Henry teased. “Is he the boy that had you questioning our family’s beliefs?”

“What? No,” she quickly replied. “Isaac and I are just friends, dad.”

“Does he know that?”

“Dad…”

“I’m just saying, kid,” he chuckled. “He seems to really care about you.”

“And I care about him, but we’re just friends,” (Y/N) assured. “It didn’t really work out with the person I was talking about that day. He, uh, wasn’t who I thought he was.”

Henry turned to look at his daughter. She no longer was the little girl who could barely see above the dashboard when in the front seat, or the preteen who would live with headphones on her ears. (Y/N) was closer to adulthood than she was to her younger years, even if he couldn’t think of her as anything other than his baby girl. She was growing, and with that came many challenges they would have to face together.

“Is it Derek?” the man continued to inquire. “Gerard mentioned something about it tonight.”

(Y/N)’s gaze fell to her leg, fiddling with the soaked fabric. “Yeah,” she sighed defeatedly. “I mean, nothing really happened between us, but it still ended.”

“Derek Hale, huh? He’s been quite the character in our family’s story.”

“Yeah, sure know how to pick ‘em,” the girl chuckled awkwardly. “Didn’t even get to become a problem for the Argents. Over before we even began.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Henry asked. “You don’t have to, of course. But it can help you make sense of everything.”

“I don’t… he just said something that he can’t take back,” she shrugged, sinking into the seat. (Y/N) considered telling her father the entire story. From the dreams to the agreement she had made with Derek, she wanted him to know everything. But if he could keep his secrets, so could she. At least until they all erupted to the surface. “We just don’t work, I guess. No point in really delving into the whole thing.”

“Well, I’m here if you wanna talk about it, kid,” he said as he killed the car’s engine. “Let me help you out.”

Henry rounded the car and took his daughter in his arms, carrying her inside.

The house was quiet and dark, save for a light in the kitchen. There, Rebecca was serving a wine glass for herself. As (Y/N) came into view, the glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the ground, spilling liquid as red as the blood that stained her daughter’s skin.

“What happened?!” she exclaimed as she ran to her daughter. “I thought you were supposed to stay away from this.”

“She wasn’t gonna work with the hunters,” Henry said as he set (Y/N) on a stool by the kitchen island. “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t gonna help her friends.”

“Did they do this to you, (Y/N)?” Rebecca worried. “Did those things hurt you?”

“No, mom,” (Y/N) scoffed. “This is the work of Allison. You know, your niece who was hellbent on getting the local pack to avenge her mother. Yeah, she did this.”

“No… Allison wouldn’t.”

“She did,” Henry confirmed. “Gerard was real proud.”

“Come on, she’s family,” the woman continued to argue. “Allison wouldn’t do that to you.”

“We can stay here and argue about what happened to me,” (Y/N) sighed, “or you can help me with these wounds. Just stop. Please, mom.”

Rebecca hurried to the cupboard under the kitchen sink. She pulled out the first aid kit and quickly set to work on her daughter. First, she cut the leg of her pants, sliding it softly down her leg, careful not to disturb the wound. The girl’s thigh was covered in dried blood, fresh droplets still coming out of the cut. Thankfully, the knife hadn’t gone deep enough to nick any veins, but it had caused enough damage to drench her jeans and her skin with blood.

The woman cleaned the skin surrounding the wound, mindful of her daughter’s jerks and winces as she worked. Once the area was clear she glued the skin back together with a liquid bandage before doing the same with the girl’s shoulder. Finally, she covered both wounds with a waterproof bandage and gave her daughter two ibuprofen pills.

“Why don’t you head up to the shower and go to bed, honey?” Rebecca said as she put the items away. “We can all talk calmly tomorrow. It’s been a long night already.”

“Yeah, are you asking me or telling me?”

“Okay, kid, let’s get you upstairs,” Henry said, stifling a laugh. “There’s gonna be a lot to unpack tomorrow.”

“Alright, I get the hint,” (Y/N) said as she got off the stool, careful to keep her weight mostly off her hurt leg. “Good night, guys.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I think I can manage.” She tested her steps, making sure she could at least make it to her room without help. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Alright,” Henry said before kissing the top of his daughter’s head. “Let me know if anything changes during the night, munchkin. I don’t care how late it is.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” (Y/N) limped toward the staircase, pressing her nails into her palms as pain shot up her leg and through her arm. She knew she should have asked for help, even if it was just to her room. But she had felt useless enough. “Night, guys.”

“Good night, honey,” her parents called out.

The girl mustered all the strength she could to make it all the way to her room. Part of her hoped Erica and Boyd had made it to her house. But as soon as her doorknob turned without any fight, she knew they were not there. All she could do was hope they at least were somewhere safe. Maybe they had gone through their plan of skipping town. Maybe.

Instead of two teen werewolves inside her room, she was met with an expectant Brody. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped off her bed and was by her side, whimpering as he noted the star of her body. He nudged her healthy leg softly, his eyes focused on hers.

“Hey, buddy,” she chuckled painfully. “I’m alright, boy. Just gotta get all this dirt off.”

Brody merely whined in response, clearly worried for his owner.

“I’m okay, bud,” (Y/N) smiled weakly. “We won tonight. Yeah. We won.”

She wasn’t sure if those last words had been to calm her dog or if she had to convince herself. They’d merely won a fight, but she could feel a war coming in. Something no one was ready for.

But she couldn’t worry about the future just yet. Not when the present was still so fresh.

After sending Brody to her bed, (Y/N) hurried to the bathroom. She set her change of clothes on the bathroom sink before ripping the dirty clothes off her body. The fabric had darkened with her blood, making it cling to her as it dried. Both items were unsalvageable, already cut and sulked by her wounds. They were evidence of a fight well fought but they reminded her of all she had done wrong.

(Y/N) set the shower to run hot before she allowed the stream to over her aching body. As the water came close to singe her skin, she allowed the tears to fall from her eyes, one of her hands flying to her mouth to muffle the sobs that escaped her.

Her mind kept replaying the night. She had started off strong with her fight back at the school. Hell, she had felt invincible then. When she had helped Erica and Boyd escape, she was sure the night would be filled with nothing but wins. But all it took was one wrong move and she’d allowed Allison to incapacitate her for the rest of the fight. If Stiles and Lydia had not burst in, she would have just become a burden to her friends. All the training and records she had broken had meant nothing. Not when a simple knife to her leg was enough to take her out of the running.

Then there had been Derek. She couldn’t get the gut-wrenching look of betrayal he sent her out of her mind. As much as he had hurt her, she didn’t want to hurt him. Yet, she knew Scott’s plan inevitably would. Derek was too married to the notion that the only way they could defeat Jackson was by killing him, but in doing so, he’d unravel too many knots that had already been tied.

When she had gone to see Scott after the fight in the sheriff’s station, (Y/N) had been sure she’d be leaving his house on Derek’s side. But there she learned just how much was at stake, and to beat Gerard they had to start playing his game. He had begged her not to tell Derek, knowing the alpha would find a way to get the Argent man exactly what he wanted. Knowing how much they could lose in the process, she had agreed. She didn’t tell anyone.

Much like she had done for her pain since she was a little girl, she kept it all inside. The girl shielded everyone around her from her fears and her sadness, too afraid to let them be consumed by the darkness that hid within her—in her mind and her heart. It was that very darkness that she was afraid would eat away at her when she least expected it. The void that lived in the chest of every Argent, waiting dormant until it was its time to wake.

(Y/N) had seen that darkness in Allison that night, but it had started its consumption many nights before. It had chiseled away at the barriers of her mind, clouding her thoughts with ire and vengeance. That night, it was the darkness that had sunk its knife into (Y/N)’s body for standing in the way. She couldn’t blame her cousin because she knew it all too well. It had visited her in her dreams, and it had been biding its time until it could have a taste of her too.

The water had grown cold by the time it had finally run clear. Ache returned to her muscles as the temperature dropped, and she knew her laments had to stop, too. No good would come from being alone with her thoughts, spiraling down an endless tunnel of dread.

At that moment, there was only one person that her mind drifted to for consolation. Regardless of what he had done and what he had said, she had grown to find comfort in him—his arms, his touch, his lips. And at that moment she needed that solace.

But he had made things clear, and no phone call or message could change his mind.

At least that’s what she thought.

(Y/N) left her bathroom, ready to sink into her cold bed and fall asleep to Brody’s gentle snores. She left the mess of dirty clothes on the floor—a problem for the morning. All she wanted was rest. Just rest.

She hadn’t expected to find Derek in the middle of her room, welcomed by an excited Brody. He was petting the dog and singing him praises when he noticed (Y/N) coming into the room, making him stop dead in his tracks. “(Y/N), I…” he started, unsure of what to say. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but after tonight I just had to see you, make sure you were okay. I can go if that’s what you want. I just…”

(Y/N) didn’t let him finish. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, letting herself come undone in his arms. Words be damned, hurt be damned. All she wanted was that moment. She allowed herself to sob into his chest, melting into his embrace like she had done before, and she cried. She cried until she didn’t remember if she had stopped.

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thebigoblin · 8 months

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On The Dance Floor

tags: Not Scott McCall Friendly, Inspired by a Song, Oneshot, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Getting Together, The Hale Pack 2.0, Fluff, Minor Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall

a/n: found this in my drafts tagged as "complete." figured i'll post this as a lil weekend treat <3 so cleaned it up a bit. i'll post this on ao3 tomorrow ig. also, real enemy is giving fics a fucking title.

now you can also read this fic on ao3.

White, marble tiles are eaten up by his black, formal shoes, his movements a little hurried as he veers off another corner of this event hall, almost braining himself against the wall. He stops just at the right moment, curses his clumsiness, and continues walking down the empty hallway to the dressing room. Everyone else is already in the main hall, sitting on the chairs, and Stiles Stilinski was there only moments before, so he knows they're waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Except, his dad is getting cold-feet, and despite Scott's attempts at being normal around his soon-to-be stepfather, and being a shoulder to lean on, the cold-feet is getting worse. At least, that's what Derek texted him, a short, concise depiction of whatever the hell must be happening in the dressing room.

And he trusts the Alpha, so he's quick in his steps and quicker with his breaths when he does open up the door and finds his dad pacing around the decently-sized room, his suit on, and complemented by a look of absolute panic on his face.

Scott is standing off to the side, like he always seems to be these days, and he's on the opposite side of Derek, far from him, like he always was and always will be. Some people don't change, and Stiles has learned that through experience he would rather not repeat.

"Dad," Stiles says, and that's all it takes for the dam to break. His dad gives a quick glance to Scott, his once-favorite son, and then pulls both Stiles and Derek towards him, his hands a little sweaty with dread. His dad knows being close and talking low wouldn't make a difference, but it's the principle of the thing, and for one split second he wonders what 16 year old him would have thought of this fact, of Derek being his dad's chosen son, and him himself being this close to his dad. And Scott not even being privy to the beauty of this relationship.

"What if she doesn't want me to? I love Melissa, I do, but Claudia- I don't know. I had a dream yesterday, Stiles, and she was just, she was just there! Just sitting on the beach, where I proposed to Melissa, right where Melissa was sitting. Was that, like, one of your supernatural dreams? Derek, you must know something about these sort of things. I don't think she wants me to—"

Derek cuts him off with a firm, "She wants nothing but happiness for you." He gives Stiles a quick look, asking silently if this is okay, because out of the four people in this room he's the only who didn't actually know her when she was alive. Stiles nods, and Derek continues, and his dad hangs onto every word out of Derek's mouth. "Today is a big day for you, and you're nervous, and it's okay, John. That dream was just a way for your subconscious to show up — this isn't the first time you've had this thought, have you?"

"No."

"That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just your nerves."

Stiles smiles softly at his dad. "Mom loves you," he moves forward to bring his dad in for a patented Stilinski hug. His voice is muffled when he insists, "She loved you when she was beside you, and she loves you now that she's watching over you. And she loves Melissa, too. I know she'll be the one smiling the biggest when you say 'I Do,' today."

His dad holds on for a little longer, and Stiles knows he's holding back tears when his dad says, "Okay," with a rough voice. He pulls back, takes a deep breath, pats Stiles on the shoulder twice, the way he always does, and gives a wobbly smile to Derek. He says, "Thanks, son," to both of them before looking at himself in the mirror.

"You look amazing."

"I'm so glad Lydia's mom was able to modify your original suit into this," Stiles adds to Derek's compliment, and Derek nods, repeats the sentiment of his dad looking amazing.

Scott chimes in, too, and his dad gives him a small smile. The relationship with him is strained, and if it was any other day Scott wouldn't even be in Beacon Hills, but it's his mom's wedding day, too. Stiles allows this one day, and if he didn't, he can't really stop Scott from being here. This is his hometown, too. They have their differences, yes, but they also have a past, together and also not, stemming from this same town.

Stiles has no right to where Scott does or does not go.

Derek, on the flip side, with his red eyes and ancestral blood running through his veins, roots sprouting from this town's soil, has no such qualms. Derek and Scott share a past, too, and it defines their present more than anything else could have.

Stiles' dad says he'll be out in just a minute, can they wait outside please, and all three of them step out. Once the door is closed, Derek turns to Scott.

"When are you leaving?"

Scott is instantly angry. He has always hated Derek, no matter the truth. Logic was always Stiles' friend first and Scott's second, and without Stiles, Scott is just a ball of emotions being hit by the bat of daddy and authoritative issues.

Derek has a right to know. It is his prerogative. This is his land, his territory, his packmate's wedding. Scott was banished — run off, really, and now he's back. Derek has a right to know when he'll leave, irrespective of Scott's hesitation to tell him.

But, the years have done Scott good. Instead of yelling, making a scene, he takes a breath in. Stiles wonders what or who his anchor is, and promptly decides it's not something he cares to know. He watches Scott get himself under control, enough that when he speaks his voice is almost emotionless.

All or nothing. That was what Scott was, and still is. He's changed, but not really.

"Mom leaves for her honeymoon tomorrow, and I need to take stuff from home."

Derek raises his right eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

Scott gives a tight smile. "It is if you just learn to stop when you should."

Before Derek can say anything, Stiles is taking the two steps to stand right beside his Alpha, disbelief coloring his face and words as he lets out, "Are you seriously threatening him?"

Scott just looks at him. The look is unreadable. It hurts, this distance between them, when Stiles remembers fantasizing about being not two feet apart on a porch in their late, late years, drinking to the years and cheers they must have had in their shared lives. Derek shakes him out of that thought with a gentle touch to his hand, their arms trapped between their bodies, and he relaxes.

Derek looks at Scott. His eyes turn red, brilliant red, and he orders, "Leave by Wednesday afternoon."

Today is Sunday.

And his dad's wedding day. His dad, who chooses this moment to come out, looking much better, and happier, and assured. He looks at the scene in front of him, the three of them, Scott on one side, alone. Him and Derek, side by side, on the opposite side of Scott.

He claps his hands.

"Who is ready to cry today?"

They all cry.

The ceremony is simple, but beautiful. The whole town is here, the wedding off their Sheriff, and the nurse who is so lovely, so kind. They are an inspiration, they all murmur, Derek tells him; second chances at love are rare, and this is beautiful, and who knew there exists beauty in the depths of tragedy?

His dad cries when he watches Melissa come down the aisle, Ms. Martin on one side and Scott on the other. Her best friend and her son, and for once, Stiles doesn't mind Scott's presence.

Melissa is smiling, eye to eye, her wedding gown fitting her perfectly.

She stands in front of his dad and says, "Oh, John," with such reverence, it's hard to not cry. Stiles has to put his hand in front of his mouth, but it's futile. Derek, the jerk, repeats those words, the ones he is hearing from every corner of the hall, and by the time Stiles has a dad and a stepmom officially, he's crying happy tears.

Lydia hugs him and tells him now it's his turn to find her mom somebody, too, and he agrees, only half-listening to her. He's staring at the big, gigantic grin on his dad's face, a matching one on Melissa.

Everyone congratulates him and the newlyweds, and then it's food and chatter and toasts, and everyone is surprised when Derek gives the first toast instead of Stiles, and Scott is supposedly not giving one at all.

Derek's toast is short, but no less lovely. He calls John a great man, one with utmost patience, and of course Derek would find a way to make a dig at Stiles; he says he has no clue how John and Claudia had strength enough to be patient with Stiles around, and that perhaps it is that tenacity, that will, that has brought about the proceedings of today. Of not giving up, even when the world is stacked against you. Of staying strong, in the face of everything falling apart. Of falling apart but coming back stronger, steadier. Of finding love after all of that. And coming from Derek, of all people, it means a whole lot, and Stiles' dad hugs Derek post-speech tightly.

When they pull apart, Derek says into the mic, but with eyes on Stiles' dad, "She's just as proud of you as Stiles is. As I am."

And then it's his turn to give a toast, and he's not sure how he can outdo Derek; as he stands up in front of the mic, he realizes he doesn't want to.

He gives a few funny anecdotes of his childhood, of how his dad taught him to always have hope, because good people get good things, even if it takes long. And how Melissa was always there, a second mom to him right from the start, and how much he loves her and is glad she's still in his life, despite the years, despite the circumstances. The crowd gets intrigued at that, aware of the distance between Scott and his mom, and Stiles too; all of Beacon Hills knows about the rift, but only a hand few know the cause of it as well. So, for him to mention the distance, to publicly acknowledge it, is a big thing.

He moves right the fuck on, makes jokes and smiles and cries, admits he'll always miss his mom, but that he'd always hoped, deep in his heart, that when the grief becomes tolerable he'd be the one to make the two of them marry each other.

"You got there first," he jokes, "Had the ring all picked out even before I could start trying to convince you to ask her out. Honestly, that might have been the second best decision you've ever made." None of them have to ask what the first was. It's obvious; Stiles knows his mom's wedding ring sits inside his dad's shirt, on a necklace, his own beside it.

Melissa gives a toast, too. She reminisces the first time she met Claudia, how they became friends, and how, at the time, it was impossible to imagine a life without her.

Before her little speech, to everyone this was her and John's day, but it's clear to them now that it's not just that. To the newlyweds it's a promise to Claudia; Melissa's once best friend and his dad's first love. To be happy. To live.

There's more hugs, more cheers, the champagne popping, and a quick, impromptu speech by Scott, who was fuming at being outdone like this by not just Stiles, but also Derek.

His speech is not bad, per se. Angry jerks of his chin, wild eyes and noticeable pauses. It's not bad. It just looks bad in comparison.

Stiles will definitely rot in hell for finding this funny, but at least he won't be the only one. The whole pack is trying not to laugh, and Stiles has to hide his own in the lapels of Derek's suit, who in turn hides his laughter in Stiles' hair.

Stiles feels bad, once or twice. But Scott made his bed and he's lying on it.

And then, after that, there's the first dance. There's the open dance floor and little kids asking Derek sweetly if he'll dance with them. He's their favorite, and it's adorable, and Stiles takes a thousand pictures.

Derek is in a sharp suit, and the juxtaposition of him dancing with young children, in princess dresses and printed suits — one kid had a yellow, minion-print suit, and honestly, that kid, Darren, pulled it off well — all colorful to his black shirt, black blazer, and black pants, is just so...

Good.

Derek's whole face is lit up, the golden glow of the lights all around them putting him in an ethereal spotlight, his eyes soft, mouth curved up, and nose adorably scrunched as he tries to decipher the babbling of a two-year-old.

The mom of the kid comes to get the boy, profusely apologizing, but Derek just smiles and says it's okay. It was no issue, it's okay, no need to apologize at all.

"Right," she says, eyes flicking between Derek and Stiles. "I'll let you get back to your partner then." And it's clear she means him.

Derek doesn't correct her, and neither does he. She leaves, and in this corner of the room, it's just them now. Most kids are tired, now, and most guests have left. It's mostly just the closest friends of Melissa and his dad, and the pack, of course, who are here.

Derek turns to him, his eyes still soft, which somehow get more soft when he looks at Stiles. It takes his breath away, and he lets out a squeaky, "Let's dance?" He's almost 25, the "adult" age according to the internet, and he still acts like a high school kid with a fucking crush.

Derek just makes him feel that way.

Derek, who is going to be 30 in less than a week, the big decade, the big, bad wolf. Derek, who blushes, his cheeks pinkish red behind his stubbled face, and puts out a hand.

Stiles takes the offered hand, his heart dancing inside his ribcage. And onto the stage they go, to the applause of the pack, and his dad's, "Finally!"

Stiles blushes, too. It's just their luck to get on the floor when it's a slow dance song.

Derek wastes no time, like he can't think or he'll explode, and puts his left hand on Stiles' waist, his right on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles puts both his hands around Derek's neck, and the alpha leans into the touch. This, the blatant trust, the welcomeness of it, is what bolsters Stiles.

They move to the slow beat, their eyes on each other's like white on rice, and everything else just doesn't exist. It's just them, and only them. No one else exists, not when they do, this close.

They move closer still, their hips touching, their foreheads against each other's. Noses touching close.

"Hey," he says, and grins when Derek does.

"Hey," Derek says back, so close that Stiles feels in his bones the word shape itself in Derek's mouth.

The music changes, then, and Stiles recognizes this one from the very first beat of it. Of course he does. It's Derek's favorite song ever.

"Did you bribe the DJ to play Apocalypse?"

Derek laughs, a quick, short one, and Stiles watches the movement of it, the beauty of Derek Hale laughing. "What if I did?"

Before Stiles can say anything, the line, "kisses on the forehead of lovers," comes on, and Derek takes a step back, only to kiss Stiles on the forehead.

Stiles' breath stops in his throat. Derek closes the gap between them again, and sways them to the beat. Stiles just follows his lead, his face having stuck itself on an astonished smile, and by the time the song is over he's just hugging Derek, tight, close, forever and ever and ever close.

Derek hums the song right in his ear, and it's perfect, Derek's breath on him, his grip, his eyes on him.

Stiles takes a step back and just looks into Derek's eyes.

"Hey," Derek says softly. They don't need words. Just this, a moment to themselves, where nothing but them exists.

Stiles doesn't even have a clue what song is playing. All he hears is Derek. His unspoken trust and devotion, his soul half of Stiles', Stiles' own soul half of Derek's. Their mingling breaths, because they're still close, just a hair apart from being one.

"Hey," he repeats, and they're both moving forward, Derek's hands on Stiles' waist, his own around Derek's neck, and they kiss.

It's gentle and slow, like time doesn't exist, could never take from them, this moment infinite, their love defying the laws of the universe and stopping time.

Because this is it. This is love, theirs and theirs only, part of its definition somewhere in the noises Stiles is making, part of it in the way Derek is touching him, moving his hands around Stiles' body, up and down, up and down, caressing him close and closer still.

Because isn't that what love is? Finding meaning in another?

After what feels like a lifetime, Derek pulls back. "Your lips, my lips, apocalypse," Derek hums against his lips, and they're so close, one breath two beings close, Stiles feels the movement of Derek's lips against his.

He lets out a small laugh. Derek swallows it down with another kiss, this one urgent, and time stills, again. Nothing exists, but this, and this moment only. Them. Arms around one another, devouring lips, tight grip, closed eyes, and peace.

They pull apart, foreheads resting against each other's, and Stiles opens his eyes to Derek's soft gaze. On him, through him, for him. He smiles, takes Derek's hand in his, dislodging it from its previous position on Stiles' waist, and brings it up to kiss the open palm of this man, who is radiant in this moment, glowing, almost, with happiness.

"Best day ever," Derek says, and he hums only the tune this time, and this time, Stiles sings the lyrics.

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse."

"We did think it would take, like, a severe life or death situation for you two to get your shit together."

The sudden reality of a third person existing, and slowly, the reality of them being in the middle of a public dance floor in front of people has them flinching and moving apart.

"Kind of glad that didn't actually occur," Lydia continues, unperturbed.

"Definitely glad," his dad agrees.

"I do prefer you two getting together on my wedding day instead of my ER room, actually." Melissa adds.

Derek and Stiles both stare at their pack — Lydia, grinning eye to eye, a wine glass in her hand. John and Melissa beside her, their hands clasped, laughing at Derek and Stiles' wide-eyed gaze. Isaac clicking a hundred pictures of them, Erica with her full-red lips and a plate filled with food. Boyd beside his wife, hand on her shoulder, and Jackson leaning against Danny, smirking at the two of them. Cora is looking at them, that Hale look of absolute mischief. Kira and Malia have probably gone home — and nope, here they come, with a...

"Is that a banner?" Derek asks, aghast, and Stiles is right there with him. Because that fucking banner reads STEREK WINS.

"What the fuck?"

Peter comes out from the shadows, and Stiles tries to be happy about the fact that his appearance surprised everyone else present too, not just him and Derek.

"Thanks for making me win the bet. Really appreciate the $5."

"Bet?!"

His dad answers his unasked question. "We all figured you two would get together sometime during our wedding. Maybe during or after. It was just a matter of when." He points to where Malia and Kira are putting the banner up, right beside the one that says, JUST MARRIED!!! "Most of us figured the week following today, but Peter, Lydia, and Kira are the only ones who doubled down on the day being today itself."

"We're going to share our anniversary!" Melissa exclaims, happy.

Derek and Stiles just stare.

Derek turns towards him. He cocks an eyebrow up. Stiles nods with quick movements of his head.

"We, uh, are gonna go," Stiles says to the hall at large. "Have fun with your... bet, I guess. Dad, Melissa, love you guys, the rest of you, fuck off." Everyone laughs.

"We'll talk about anniversary plans later, Melissa," Derek says, and Stiles finger guns at her before realizing how stupid it looks.

Luckily, Derek picks him up, fireman carry style, and swoops him away.

Stiles groans against Derek's back. "Doofuses. Serious doofuses."

"Us or them?"

Stiles thinks. "All of us," he decides. "All of us, Derek. How the fuck were we so stupid to wait so long to get together?" They don't need to really discuss it — the kiss was just a precursor. "And why the fuck do they have to be so... ugh."

"They're still laughing," Derek says, as if that would help. "Doofuses," he agrees.

And then they're in the Jeep, Derek's camaro probably to be taken home by Isaac, and they're alone and when Derek drops him gently on the seat, Stiles lunges up to kiss.

"You make me fucking feral," Derek admits against his lips, and hey, Stiles loves where this is going. "I love you."

The words are nothing, really, but an arbitrary combination of English lexicon. But there is a meaning it — so many touches, so many moments shared between the two of them. Time spent in presence or in thoughts. All of it, leading up to this. These three words that make Stiles giddy.

"I love you too, and we really were doofuses."

"Wanna be doofuses on my bed?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Stiles speeds it out of the parking lot of the event hall, and they do, in fact, act like doofuses on Derek's bed.

They make-out, they throw down their clothes, and they pour out their hearts with every touch, every caress, every moan; they kiss and laugh and confess, touch and worship and love.

They map out each other's bodies and lean in, snuggle, and sleep.

If all apocalypses could be so lovely, it would be great, really.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fics #sheriff stilinski #melissa mccall #the hale pack 2.0 #ahhh spent like 15 mins trying to come up with a title and i give up #it's 3 am rn and i'm going to SLEEP #gotta wake up in like 5ish hours too aanxbsjshjs #bYE #sh.rambles #sh.writesonmain #hopefully y'all enjoy this weekend treat #i wrote this a good few weeks ago and so glad i found it in the piles of wip

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christinesficrecs · 2 years

Note

Because of your blog, I’ve read over 500 Sterek fics since April 😂 I have a problem. But! Do you have any super long fics that are your go-to favorites?

That is awesome!!! ❤️ I don't have the attention span for really long fics so there is only one CRAZY long fic here, the rest are around 100K.

This was meant to be a shorter list but they are ALL so amazing!!

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 434.6K | Explicit

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.”

That was a bad word. Not found.

Have.

Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment.

One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

a mountain to climb by grimm | 126.4K | Explicit | wayback

“Don’t do it,” he mutters. “Don’t do it, please, don’t do it.”

But there it is, a soft pink line appearing right next to the control. Stiles’ legs give out from under him; he sinks to the bathroom floor, hands shaking, his entire body shaking. It’s hard to breathe, his vision blurring around the edges. There’s a knock on the door behind him and then it opens and Scott sits down next to him.

“I’m fucked,” Stiles gasps, tears prickling at his eyes. “I’m fucked!”

Don’t Savage The Messenger by exclamation | 172.3K | Explicit

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange.

Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters’ stories would have him believe.

The Circus at the End of the World by mikkimouse | 91K | Explicit

Three hundred years ago, the world ended not with a bang or a whimper, but with magic.

Since then, magic has been outlawed, and the world has clawed its way back to some kind of stability, with people and shifters alike divided between living within the walled safety of the Havens, or the small, less protected outposts dotting the frontier.

Derek Hale and his sisters, Laura and Cora, are the proprietors of Hale’s Circus of Magic, Monsters, and Mystical Wonders, known colloquially as the Circus at the End of the World. They and their ragtag pack ride the rails between the outposts and the Havens, performing for those who can pay (and some who can’t). Their circus is a small haven in and of itself, a place of safety for those who have nowhere else to go.

It’s a quiet life…until Stiles Stilinski joins the crew.

Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) | 109K | Explicit

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla) | 149.1K | Explicit

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi | 156.7K | Mature

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn’t expect and aren’t sure they approve of….

Pack Wars by miss_aphelion | 158.6K | Mature

Scott liked to call it the Great Pack Divide of 2012.

Derek liked to call Scott an idiot.

(Or the one where Derek kidnaps Stiles to teach Scott a lesson, and ends up learning a few things himself)

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam | 105.1K | Explicit

It’s Stiles’ senior year, and he’s trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he’s being haunted by a hag. Great.

The Hollow Moon by thepsychicclam | 180K | Explicit

It’s the summer after Stiles’ first year of college, and he’s working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he’s okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn’t care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he’s just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica | 124.5K | Explicit

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he’s accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger’s sperm.Awesome.And the father of Stiles’s baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts.Joy.

Golden Boy by trilliath | 127.7K | Explicit

Apparently it still amuses his uncle to buy sex slaves for him, no matter how steadfastly he refuses to use them. Derek ducks into his tent with a resigned sigh, prepared to dress and reassign whatever new beauty Peter has bought him. They do make for loyal servants, so he can’t really complain about Peter’s ‘gifts’. But it is annoying to deal with, to have to spend his evening sorting out a slave instead of being able to go right to bed. It’s just something he has to learn to accept as a byproduct of serving alongside his uncle.

But when he lays eyes on the boy laying amid his furs, he finds his breath catching in his throat. His skin is golden with the candle-light glimmering against the sheen of oil that has been slathered on his bared body. His lips are parted, and they work over inaudible words or sounds. His skin is flushed, nipples peaked and pierced with simple but unexpected golden rings. He’s spectacularly beautiful in the candlelight. The many glowing candles that have been added to his usual lighting cast glittering edges and shadows, imbuing an almost unearthly golden color to his skin.

It’s enough that Derek hesitates.

A Desperate Arrangement by mikkimouse | 115.5K | Explicit

“I’m sorry, I believe there’s something wrong with my hearing,” Stiles said. “Because I could have sworn you just told me you set up a betrothal agreement with the Hales. A betrothal agreement involving me. Me.”

Scott smiled his easygoing smile and nodded, which told Stiles no, he hadn’t misheard a damn thing.

After seven years of lengthy negotiations, the treaty between the Hales and the Argents has fallen apart and the two countries fell into war.

Months later, there’s an uneasy truce, thanks to the intervention of King Scott McCall, but it won’t last. In a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, the Hales sign a treaty with the McCalls to marry Prince Derek to Prince Stiles Stilinski, King Scott’s brother.

In the history of the world, there have been many better ideas.

Home by TheTypewriterGirl | 167.1K | Explicit

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

Stiles’s Story Time by trilliath | 125.8K | Explicit

Where Stiles is a librarian who is in charge of the kids’ reading hour and such. And Derek is 6-year-old Scott’s adoptive dad. And Stiles has his own take on Stories and Scott loves wolves and Derek tries not to admit that he likes the way Stiles’s face looks in those glasses. Or something like that.

Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower | 195.8K | Explicit

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

Chosen by exclamation | 99K | Explicit

By tradition, when the Hale heir comes of age, the alpha can choose one boy to serve as the heir’s slave for a month. When Peter Hale chooses Stiles, Stiles expects to spend a month being used and abused. But it seems Derek Hale doesn’t want a sex slave any more than Stiles wants to be one.

Unfortunately, they’re stuck with each other. They have to make it through the next month without killing each other, and without getting Peter Hale to order Stiles’ death.

Meanwhile, Stiles wants to know why exactly Peter picked him.

The Skies Above Are Blue by Trelkez | 95.2K | Explicit

Derek is a wedding DJ. Stiles just happens to go to a lot of weddings.

Kindred Spirits by Stoney | 104.7K | Explicit

Stiles is the adopted son of the Sheriff, brought to Beacon Hills to hopefully stay for good. A family, a best friend, school, Jackson as Josie Pye (because who else could he be?) and the mystery of a dark haired, green-eyed boy which leads Stiles to discovering a secret within himself.

Versus by secondstar | 94.5K | Explicit

At age nineteen, Stiles Stilinski was the next big thing, according to The Guardian. It was surreal, not being able to turn on Sky Sports without hearing his name mentioned along with the names of players he grew up idolizing. Stiles couldn’t believe that this was his life.

Honourable Mention - 61K

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #novel length #100k

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finding-arcadia · 4 months

Text

The Intuitive Analysis of my Blorbo 😇, Mr. Derek Hale

The reason I latched onto Derek like I did, is because as an Empath, the amazing way he was portrayed by Tyler Hoechlin, his backstory, and how he responded to stimulus around him, really pulled me into him. He made me feel what he was going through. There are some rare performances that can really connect with me, like they were a real tangible person, and his is one of them.

I don't know how much insight I can give into him that I, or other beautiful people in the Fandom, haven't already. But I will give as brief an overview as I can.

The fact that Derek is a werewolf, and born that way, already changes everything from the beginning. His lived experience is already different from the jump. Much like people from two completely different cultures will have different perspectives, manners, ways of speaking, etc. He's already leading with instinct/intuition and hasn't lost touch with that, while others tend to be really connected with it as a child and then become conditioned out of listening to that feeling in your gut or that intuitive hit because as a child that's seen as "silly" or not "real". But being born with that, and born of people who also possess this ability, he's going to have that part of himself nutured instead of minimized.

He's also the middle child, but the only boy, so he's got an interesting dynamic that way. He's likely seen as more "special" or more included than the typical middle child. But being the middle of two girls, he was still likely the scapegoat and teamed up on because of it. It's likely made him more careful and thoughtful with his words and actions. Also, he's probably very connected to his family, maybe more than most humans. Which also points to that animal instinct.

Being the middle child, I feel, might also make him more susceptible to suggestion, but also, oddly enough, he's kind of a good bullshit detector. Unfortunately, he tends to have a big blind spot for bullshit when his heart is involved. This boy is a big ol' marshmallow.

He's sustained so much trauma because he was/is such a beautiful soul who wanted to believe in the power of love. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and everybody saw that, and some people exploited that to their own ends. So much that Derek completely closed himself off when his own pure heart led to his family being killed.

When we first see Derek in Teen Wolf, his sister (the last family he had that was alive/not comatose) had just been killed. He's already completely shrouded himself internally and externally in that pain he still holds in his very soul, and built it up around him like a wall. He's put on his leather jacket and scowl as an armor to keep people out. Even as gorgeous as he is, he didn't look very approachable, so people usually gave him a wide berth. And it's this very armor he's created that actually makes it harder for him to connect with Scott and Stiles, initially.

While Stiles understands the grief personally, it takes him a while to see that in Derek because the man is so incredibly guarded.

But it's impossible to show the needed vulnerability to create the necessary camaraderie because, to Derek, vulnerability means weakness, and leads to death. Though it makes sense that the one person he was able to let the wall down with was Stiles. Despite their initial animosity, Stiles has proven his loyalty, his tenacity, and his understanding. Derek instinctively knows that he can trust Stiles, and he slowly begins to let him in.

A lot of what we see from Derek in the beginning is survival mode, trying to control a situation because he's feeling out of control, which creates more animosity. He becomes the Alpha because someone needs to be, and he's the only one who knows enough between him and Scott. Plus, he isn't going to give his family's spark to a newbie wolf.

Then he's building a pack because that's all he knows. He does everything he's only ever seen other people do. He's running purely on instinct and of course non-wolves are not going to understand that.

Anyway, to cut this short, once he's out of survival mode and he's had time to process what's happened, he becomes a mentor to Scott. That soft marshmallow boy starts to peek out. Then we see him emerge even more once he's more settled, like when dealing with his son, Eli.

All in all, Derek is a major soft wolf who was hardened by his trauma, but he was able to slowly connect with people again. He was able to trust and create a pack and a community with the people in Beacon Hills, and he was able to step more fully into who he truly was, which was proven most profoundly when he had his rebirth and evolved to complete the full wolf shift.

Derek Hale was one of the most fascinating, complex, and engaging characters on Teen Wolf for me. He will always be my Blorbo. ❤️

#derek hale #my sweet angel baby #blorbo #teen wolf #meta #character analysis #intuitive reading

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buckybarnesss · 1 year

Note

I would love to hear your take on how Stiles organized the trip to Mexico and got everyone on board with saving Derek between S3 and S4.

so here's the thing. they show a flashback in the dark moon as to what occurred. i think it's important to remember that derek is kidnapped in the direct aftermath of stiles being processed and allison dying. so needless to say people have things go on.

it's scott that realizes something is amiss. he and stiles have this exchange:

stiles: "okay. so how long has it been?" scott: "weeks. he hasn't gotten back to any of my texts." stiles: "has derek ever returned your texts?" scott: "once. definitely once."

the derek and scott dynamic is unhinged. you know bastard man derek hale leaves scott on read constantly and that one time he answered was probably "k" or some shit.

love how stiles specifically says "your" texts. not any or our but your. derek totally responds to stiles. scott goes on to say it felt different and he went to the loft where he found the alarm still on and everything seemed okay but he found the shell casings left behind by the calaveras.

i actually assume it felt different to scott because by this time scott is an alpha now. while i don't think he and derek and necessarily pack he and derek do have a complicated connection that might've allowed him to sense something was off.

scott explains that he contacted deaton who informed him that the casings belong to the calaveras out of mexico.

he brought lydia to see if she could get anything off the shell casings. she feels like something isn't right and is seemingly sensing derek's state of suspension being unable to truly tell if he's alive or dead.

scott is the one who decides mexico is where they look after stiles asks how they find the calaveras.

what's interesting in this flashback in regards to stiles is that he asks twice if derek's dead. he is anxious mcanxious person. he sounds upset when he asks lydia if derek's dead. he is also the one that insists scott go on ahead with braeden to go find derek and he's the own who recognizes teen derek.

the attachment is real.

i think the plan to get derek was a scott-n-stiles plan. it has all the hallmarks of both their cleverness and also their recklessness. going directly into the calaveras stronghold? insane.

the money is from the events of silverfinger from the japanese mafia that was used by void stiles to set derek and chris argent up for murder. araya says as much.

i don't think it'd take much for them to convince anyone to go. derek's theirs even if they're not best friends he's their local cryptid damn it. kira hung out with derek the pervious season. malia may have been indifferent but came along anyway because she was asked by her new friends. lydia is devoted to scott and stiles by this point and reasonably is concerned about derek because she's a normal person.

scott and derek have a complicated relationship that is layered but under it all all is a firm belief on both sides that they are the only person allowed to annoy, torment and kick each other's asses.

stiles is just unhinged about derek hale. news at 11.

tl;dr the dumbass duo goes to rescue the dumbass that completes them.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #sterek

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casually-eat-my-soul · 4 months

Note

Ok absolutely love your take on some of teen wolf characters/themes/ideas... So do you have any fanfics' recommendations, please ????

Thank you! Stick with me becuase these don’t really have a theme. I really should start bookmarking the fics I like, these are the ones I currently remember:

Honestly, this one is just so cute to me. My favourite scene is when stiles intervenes at the gas station when the agents smash Derek’s car. One shot. Completed

Basically the premise is that stiles goes back in time ( I’ve said it once I’ll say it again I love time travel fics) and immediately forces Derek to be his friend and sleep at his house. chapters 6/?

Creature stiles- not gonna spoil which one, but I absolutely love when creature stiles is done well. I really enjoyed this one

Stiles says fuck you to masculine toxicity, i really like how soft this one is

This is a fun series! Alive hale pack. Kid fic, everyone realizing that stiles is important to Derek.

Canon divergence after season 2, completed

Needed by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions). I quite like this series, Alive Boyd and erica because they deserved to live. Completed

Established sterek. Prince Derek and magical stiles. Stiles is pregnant. Alive hale pack

Stiles is the only one who can read Derek expressions/eyebrows completed 6/6

Also anything from @hedwig221b , I love her work. Can’t go wrong with any of her fics

That’s it for now! I am also open to fic recommendations, seriously anything

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #sterek fandom #sterek fic #fanfiction #sterek fanfic recommendations #sterek fanfiction

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hawkeyetrained · 2 years

Text

You Can Lean On Me

Derek Hale x Fem!reader

Other Characters: Ethan (slightly), Chris Argent (slightly), McCall Pack (mentioned)

Warnings: canon character death, sadness, crying, blood mention, wound mention, sad McCall pack, shock

Summary: When Allison dies fighting the Oni, she relies heavily on Derek.

Word Count: 1010

A/N: If you’d like to be added to the tags, or have a prompt idea, please let me know!

Allison was dead. A horrible fight against the Oni; an arrow to the chest of the creature and a bright yellow light, then she was falling, a sword slipping from her side as Scott caught her. I couldn’t move.

Lydia and I had grown up together as best friends, and once Allison moved in, our duo became a trio. The three of us did almost everything together. We were there for her when Kate was killed, when her mom died, and now I was left watching her die in Scott’s arms.

There was nothing I could do in this fight. Being human and completely untrained left me at a great disadvantage, but with Kira, Allison, and Isaac fighting the Oni while Stiles and Scott went looking for Lydia, I knew I was going to be ok. I was Lydia’s connection to the world out here while she was inside. She could feel almost everything while focusing on me, something we had noticed when the alphas were in town a few months ago.

Isaac was frozen in his place, no longer fighting the now unmoving Oni; they seemed to be just as shocked as us. Kira had kicked one back for the final time when the smallest sliver of sun peaked from beyond the horizon. My hands shook as I watched Allison and Scott talk in hushed voices. Tears ran from my cheeks, mixing with the rain that dripped from my hair and the sky. My clothes were soaked through, and I knew we all needed to get out of the rain, but no one was able to move.

It seemed like hours later when Allison’s hand slipped from Scott’s grip, when he let out a heart-breaking roar, when Chris finally ran through the outer fencing. The rain was still pouring down, now seeming to come harder than before, but I couldn’t move. She was alive and joking with me only hours before, handing me a knife to keep in my pocket incase anything got too close, the silver of the blade had shined brightly in the lights of her room.

Now, that knife felt like it weighed a ton as Chris picked up his daughter and was followed by the pack out towards his car. My feet though, were practically cemented to the ground below me. Scott and Isaac had walked on either side of Chris, almost like they were guarding the Argents’, Lydia was helping Stiles out of the building, and Kira followed slowly behind all of them. My eyes were glued to the place that Scott and Allison had been just moments prior, watching as the dark red of her blood mixed with the rain and washed away.

“Y/N?” A voice called from by the fence my friends had vanished through. “We’re all leaving, let’s go.” It sounded like Ethan, his voice shaking a little as he called out for me, but I still couldn’t move.

“I got her. You head back with the others.” That was Derek’s voice now, telling the twin to follow along with my friends. “Y/N/N?” He was getting closer to me now, his voice gentle as to not startle me. “You’re soaking wet, we should go.” Derek’s hand met my shoulder softly, yet it still caused me to jump away from him. “Hey, you’re ok.” My eyes were wide with panic, looking up at the equally as soaked werewolf in front of me.

“Derek?”

“It’s me.” He nodded. “I got you, you’re safe.” His hair was dripping as it matted down against his forehead.

My breath shook. “Alli-Allison, she’s…” Eyes flashed back to the spot she was just in. “She’s dead. Derek, she’s dead.” My hands were beginning to shake harder and harder, air seemingly not quite reaching my lungs as I breathed in. “Derek.” The last call of his name cracked as sobs escaped my lips.

His arms quickly drew me into his chest, one wrapped around my waist and the other holding my head against him. “I got you. You can lean on me. I got you.” He continued to whisper things in my ear, his hands never leaving me and his arms never faltering in their grip as I cried into his chest. The rain pounded down around us, soaking the pavement, water drops dripping from my hair, my clothes, Derek’s hair, and clothes as he just held me though the storm.

In the coming hours, Derek had managed to get me back to his loft, changed into large, warm, and dry clothes before holding me again while we watched the sun rise from his couch. Chris had come over an hour or so after that, wanting to go over what to say to the cops with me.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Derek defended from the doorway, stopping Chris from coming in. “I don’t think she can handle it quite yet.”

“She has to. They’re already looking for her to ask her a few questions and she needs to match her story with the others.” Reluctantly, Derek had let Chris come to talk to me. We went over the story nearly eight times before he was happy with my answers. “And what do you say if you can’t think of something? If they want details that you can’t give?”

My hand was clutched tightly to Derek’s. “It all happened so fast.” My eyes welled up with tears again as I looked up to the father who just lost his only little girl. “I’m so sorry.” This time my voice was barely a whisper. He only patted my shoulder as he stood to leave, telling Derek he would shut the door behind him. Once the door shut, the tears I had worked so hard to keep at bay while Chris was here flooded down my cheeks, my head dropping to Derek’s shoulder.

“I got you.” He mumbled yet again, shifting to pull me closer to wrap me in his arms tightly. “I’ll always be here for you. You can lean on me for anything, you know that, right?”

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale imagine #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 2 months

Note

Hey, can you fic some recs about Stiles angst with his mother? Like she's alive but has still had dementia and is abusing stiles and Derek helps him cope or something along the lines of that? Or where stiles mother died and the sheriff is drinking and abusing stiles and Derek helps him with the abuse? Please and if you can't, it's okay!

Ooof. Hitting us in the feels.

And The Waltz Goes On by Lunarlux

(1/1 I 1,374 I Not Rated)

Contrary to belief, Stiles’s mother is not dead.

***

Life goes on.

Stiles Stilinski's Unhealthy Obsession with Derek Hale (And how he is totally okay with it) by DaoOfGay

(1/? I 2,903 I Explicit)

"You know there's this guy following you, right?" Asked Boyd, in a whisper that he knew he would hear, looking behind him towards the shadow, where from a normal human's eyesight, the guy following him would be completely hidden.

"Yep." Derek smiled, popping the 'p' in the end.

"Isn't that, like, creepy?" Isaac looked confused by his cheerful answer.

"No, i find it adorable." Derek smiled, ignoring how his pack mate looked at him like he was completely crazy.

bones by els31

(1/1 I 9,524 I Teen)

Stiles developed an eating disorder from his mother when she was going through the stages of Frontotemporal Dementia. After she died, Stiles didn't even realise he was carrying on the bad habit. Years fly by, and Stiles is still doing it, only now, he doesn't even realise that not eating is wrong.

Put You On Replay by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(7/7 I 44,323 I Explicit)

Mr. Hale. Derek Hale.

His gaze suddenly flickering over Stiles.

And whatever Stiles expected, it wasn’t for Derek to look right through him.

But maybe Derek forgetting him was kinder to the alternative. ~*~ Stiles and Derek broke up twelve years ago, but now Stiles' husband works for Derek; maybe it isn't too late to put the past on repeat.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #abuse #hurt/comfort #mama stilinski #eating disorder

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fandom-imagination-ss · 2 years

Text

Imagine: Derek having to convince you that you deserve love

You weren’t particularly fond of it. Emotions. I mean you had them. You can cry on a dime if you watch a sad movie or scene. And oddly enough when you get hugs.. sometimes you tear up.

You weren’t raised to be “emotional” or to Expect a lot. You weren’t neglected or ever wanted anything from your parent.s they just decent enough parents. They made sure you had food in your belly, clothes, and whatever you wanted within reason. But you were different. When you saw your friends being young and Stupid. You just saw warning signs. And you stared clear. And when All your friends got coupled up. And you were Left behind. You are sixteen. Realized. You would always be alone. So you had to make a decision. Cry and Let a status determine who you were. Or Learn to be happy with yourself which was pretty easy. You were always by yourself. Sure you had friends. But you didn’t go out to party and weren’t ever invited out. You. I just.. accepted it.

It was because of Erica you learned to about the werewolves in Beacon Hills and about Derek Hale. You knew about him. From passing. Especially since you saw him from time to time and you always had to stop. He would be a few yards away and you would stop just t Marvel at his beauty for a second before going on your way. Well after Meeting him and watching Erica change completely. With her personality and boldness, you barely recognized Erica. You were changed to. Not by choice. Derek just did it. You survived the bite but you weren’t like Erica. You weren’t bold and dressing differently you felt better but still yourself.

Two females in a pack. And having Derek as the Alpha. It was clear both you and Erica thought Derek was unbelievably attractive. And rationally you didn’t want to do anything about it. Because you were just 17. And he was over the age. And far too Hot. And you were fighting with your contentment. You weren’t the kind of girl who gets the guy. Erica tried everything to get Derek’s attention. Secretly you were enjoying the failed attempts she wasn’t just giving up. She got a thrill each time he refused her. Then During a training session, Erica jumped and Kissed him. You weren’t overly stunned that she tried getting into Stiles’s pants earlier. That week. But Derek tossed her off and Eric’a statement “I have someone else in mind for you.”

That’s when you spoke up, “what do you mean by that? You’re setting us up? Playing matchmaker?”

Derek looked at you. As he spoke, “Don’t worry when you’re older. We will discuss it again.’

“No- No you can tell us Now? You shuffling us around like cattle?”

Derek chuckled as he spoke, ‘No of course Not. But I have hopes.. for who my two betas will be with”

you looked over at Erica and Boyd knowing instantly who he was going to set them up with. “Erica and Boyd... you’re going to push them together..” looking at Derek. who was standing over you after just tossing you to the ground? he was covered in sweat as he crossed his arms. which you just knew meant you were Right. “And. Me and-” Derek stopped you there as he spoke, “I haven’t - you aren’t going to him. this conversation is over!’

and it was. Derek kept his word he didn’t bring it up again, Not after Erica died, Or Boyd..Isasic-you wasn’t sure what happened to him. one second he was with the hunter and the next in Paris? or Egypt you weren’t sure. you’re pretty sure he is alive. either way years passed. Out of Derek’s pack, you were the only one left. Derek tried to push you off to Scott thinking you would be better and safer with him. you loved Scott he was your friend. him Stiles, Lydia, Malia but he wasn’t Derek, and you didn’t want to be in A pack without Derek as your Alpha. Derek didn’t sugarcoat anything. Scott has a can-do butterfly and rainbow outlook on things. saying that he/ the pack will Fix everything and everyone will be safe. the positivity wasn’t what you needed. you wanted the truth about the dangers. Derek was the only one who gave you the truth and true reassurance. Naturally, Derek tried everything in his power to Ride himself of you but you were Stubborn. and refused.

After High school, you went away, and Derek encouraged it. wanting you to experience Life, and Scott promised he would Stay in beacon hill to protect and help the younger wolves. which He did.. until Liam graduated and Scott just figured that the wolves and all the supernatural mischief would Just Stop. you were Slightly furious that Scott Left Beacon Hill, after promising he would stay and be the Alpha and help out whenever a new Big Bad showed up. Derek was there. with Eli but it wasn’t the same. Scott was the Alpha since Derek lost his ranking. it was Scott’s responsibility, not Derek’s. you moved back to help out. plus you got offered a teaching position.

Returning to Beacon Hill Derek was Stunned to smell you, you smelt the same as when you left. he was stunned as you hugged Eli and gave him a long story about your adventures in New Orleans. One of the Downfalls of being the Alpha he could smell the scents off you. it originally was a thing for Alpha to have over their packs to keep them safe. hundreds of years ago. but now it was Creepy.. and Even the other pack members can smell who was close to the others. but Alpaha’s noses are more tuned in and he could smell right now to how long it was lasting. unfortunately, Derek smell your former lovers.. or in your case your Lack of Lovers.. he was Stunned. watching you go around and give your headbutt to Malia. your secret handshake you then pulled her into a Hug. and Derek was Stunned.

Out of All the girls, in the Pack. you were the one that knew was going to be a heartthrob, with your Shinny y/c/h and the depths of your eyes. your dry sense of humor and you’re brilliant brian. you could have easily been the CEO of any company or the Next president of the united states. you were Smart enough and could literally be Anything in the world. but you choose a Teacher. He knew your grand plan was to come back to Beacon hill one day. you loved it here. it was home. and you wanted to be here in case something bad happened to cause you wanted to protect your family. you skillfully and masterfully were able to keep your secret from them.

When you were in High school Derek had the hardest time reminding himself. you were a high schooler and he refused to be a creep. Sure he thought about Everything he wanted to do with you, on you, to you. for you. and that was when you were in High school. Now an adult. and more confident in your words, and your mind was expanded, Everything about you changed but fundamentally you were still the same. Derek secretly cursed all the boys at your university. he figured you would be hounded by boys left and right. he definitely figured you would have a line of boys waiting to Woo you. Malia didn’t notice her nose could only smell your soap and shampoo and the deodorant you were using and the calmness you had.

Shifting over hugging Derek you gave him a big squeeze as he hugged you tightly. they all helped you move into Derek’s Old flat you were renting as Eli said it was going to be a man magnet for sure. which you just laughed.

Malia soon took Eli home while Derek stuck behind as he spoke, “can I ask a personal question?”

you were sitting on the sofa about to stick your hand into a bag of lays chips, “yea absolutely what’s up?’

“Why don’t you have a partner?’

that wasn’t what you were expecting to hear, you expecting to hear “why did you come back, why aren’t you exploring the world” along the lines of the speech he gave you when you graduate to go out and explore the world. but Not why are you single?

“Oh- well. I don’t know- No one is knocking on my Door.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he spoke, ‘bullshit- your beautiful, funny, kind, compassionate, Brilliant. you are the last person i expected to be Single.”

“thank you?” you laughed at that statement as you shook your head, ‘No one- I guess. I don’t know. it’s not like I’m outspoken. I just- prefer my own company.”

Derek saw right thru that Lie. he knew you were lying to yourself when you use to state that you were content with being just by yourself. the truth was you were terrified of loving someone. And that you were afraid No one could love you. so you are never tired. Derek figured. after school when you went to university and the boys saw you. that they would sweep you off your feet. and you would learn you deserve Love. If it weren’t for the fact you were a high schooler when he turned you. Derek would have. he would have made you feel like a goddess on this earth. But again. Derek’s mortal compass refused to hurt you in that way. he promised himself he wouldn’t even entertain the idea of having you, being with you, until you were an adult. then you moved and he thought he would finally be finished with his crush on you. Now sitting there giving faint lies as to why you were still Single. it drove Derek even crazier.

“you deserve the love you know y/n. more than anyone in this town. you are. unbelievable.’

you rolled your eyes you heard your mom give you the same speech hundreds of times. when she would call and bug you about who you were seeing. as if even If you had someone you would Go into details about your love life with your mother! But Derek was different. Derek was Derek. “I do not, it’ just- hasn’t happened. and I’m not going to Wallow in sadness because I’m alone. you’re alone.. and look at you.’

Derek sighed heavily as he spoke “I’m alone by choice because of the only woman who could tempt me. is afraid of love.”

your eyes grew large as you spoke, “Malia? you sick Fucker.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he spoke, “you idiot! Not my cousin!”

your mouth fell open as Derek walked over crouched down in front of you looking up at you. “ive been intoxicated with you. since before I bite you Y/n. I didn’t- i wouldn’t do anything about it.. when you were...” Derek paused as he grabbed your hand, “remember when you figured otu I was hoping for Erica to be with Boyd?” you nodded your head,”yea you wanted me with Isaac.”

he’s grip on your tighten hearing as he shook his head, “No- I never said that. you assumed. I- wanted you. I was hoping. One day. we could be together.” your mouth fell open hearing that as Derek spoke, ‘let me show you how much you deserve Love.”

WOW, was all you could think about the next morning. As you laid on the floor beside your bed. The mattress you brought was completely destroyed along with half your bedding and the sofa derek brought over. You were so thankful for super healing. Since there were moved you never thought were imaginable. Derek was laying beside you. As he was breathless as you tapped his chest softly with the back of your hand.

" Derek this isn't a one time thing right"

Derek shifted wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulled you into a side hug.

" God I hope not"

"Good. But next time.. no claws"

"Deal"

#fandom imagine #imagine #fandom #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #derek hale #derek hale imagine #superman and lois imagine

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takaraphoenix · 2 months

Text

What Keeps Me Going

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, Post-Nogitsune, PTSD, trauma, hurt/comfort, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Isaac/Allison (past)

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Noah Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Derek Hale, Cora Hale

@writersmonth Prompts: dark + bakery

Summary: After the Nogitsune, Peter picks up the pieces. He takes care of his lover, until Chris finds something to keep going on. Stiles. Allison died to save Stiles, they saved Stiles. As long as Stiles was alive, was safe, then Allison didn't die for nothing. Peter, who'd been in love with Stiles for a long time now, approves, so they take care of the boy together.

This Fic on FFNet | This Fic on AO3

What Keeps Me Going

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

For the first two weeks after Allison's death, Chris was pretty much catatonic. He was completely checked out, disassociating from anything. He'd lost his sister, his wife, his father and now his daughter – his entire family had died within the span of just a little over a year. And while he had come to terms with most of those deaths and the fact that the one he'd lost had brought that fate upon themselves, Allison was different. Allison was his daughter. His little girl. Too young to die. Too good to die. She should still be here. How could he keep going without her?

Those first two weeks, Chris had no idea what happened. He'd later learn from Peter that his lover had been taking care of him. Bathing him, feeding him, keeping him hydrated. It made Chris' heart ache that he had caused his lover this much trouble, and that Peter cared enough to go through all of that for him. He'd kissed Peter fiercely for that and it earned him probably the brightest smile he'd ever seen on Peter's face. He wasn't good, far from it, but he was present again.

"Hey, kid," Chris' voice was rough as he walked into the kitchen.

Isaac sat at the table, poking at his cereals like they'd offended him. The kid had been handed around so much in this past year, from his abusive father to Derek, to the McCalls and, apparently, now to Peter and Chris. When Chris first noticed the boy sleeping curled together on Allison's bed, he'd frozen and had just a moment of thinking it was Allison, before recognizing that the shape didn't match. Peter had gently taken him aside and explained. Explained that between Scott and Isaac both not taking it well, things were a little too much for Melissa, explained that Isaac sought Allison's scent, explained that Peter couldn't turn the former Hale Pack beta away. So there was now a broken, hurting blonde werewolf pup living with them.

"Morning," Isaac looked up at him tentatively.

There was a sense of solace between the two of them though. Like Chris, Isaac had lost everyone. His brother, his mother, his father, now his lover. But Isaac was so young. Chris was already breaking and he had years of life experience, but Isaac? He was just a kid. A kid shouldn't have to go through that. So Chris accepted him, even let him continue staying in Allison's room.

"Anything interesting happening in school today?"

Chris was trying. He was trying really hard. Trying to keep going even though he'd lost so much. So far, he was mostly forcing it for Peter's sake. He'd troubled his lover so much, he couldn't keep letting Peter feel the brunt force of it and take care of him. So Chris went through the motions of sleeping, eating, showering, shaving. Forcing it. Isaac was a good kid, Chris thought he deserved better than a man going through the motions, going through the routine of parenting. Chris wished he could be a parent, but being a parent had been taken away from him when Allison had been taken away from him, so how could he possibly ever get back to it properly?

"No," Isaac got a far off look on his face, troubled. "I just hope… Never mind."

"What is it?" Chris frowned at the kid.

He got himself a coffee and sat down opposite Isaac. Moments later and Peter joined them, finished with his shower. The wolf went to get breakfast started in what was a heartachingly domestic routine. Chris couldn't tell if that helped or made things worse.

"I hope Stiles shows up today," Isaac whispered, averting his gaze.

"What… do you mean?" Chris' frown deepened and he felt himself tense.

He also felt Peter's eyes on himself. Careful. Isaac ducked his head a little.

"He hasn't been to school since…" Isaac trailed off, unable to say her name.

But that had been five weeks ago. For the past three weeks, Chris had slowly, gradually come to himself again, had been working on mimicking a semblance of normalcy. His head snapped over to Peter, near instinctively. Because his mate usually held the answers – information was power and Peter loved only few things more than power; coincidentally, Stiles was one of those few things he loved more than power, which meant there was no way Peter didn't have the answer.

"You'll have to use your words, Christopher," Peter said nonchalantly.

But Chris could see the tense line of his shoulders. Peter was fiercely protective of the boy and right now, he couldn't tell what Chris was feeling or thinking. Hell, Chris couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking. If he was being honest, he hadn't even thought about Stiles in these past three weeks. He hadn't thought about anyone outside this apartment in these weeks. He couldn't. For the first week, the only person he thought of was Allison, then, slowly, Peter and Isaac joined.

"Is he…" Chris swallowed hard, swallowed the word 'alright'. "Jesus, just tell me, Peter."

With a sigh did Peter put the spatula down and turn around to face both Chris and Isaac, who now perked up with wide eyes and stared at Peter too. "He hasn't left his bedroom since… since we got him back. The dear sheriff is trying his best, but Stiles has been pretty much non-responsive and non-verbal since. Quite frankly, if Eichen House hadn't been its own whole trauma for Stiles, the sheriff would probably consider checking Stiles into a mental facility at this point."

It hit Chris like lightning, all of a sudden. Stiles needed to be alright. Chris nearly got whiplash from the intensity of that thought and he didn't know what to do with it. So he simply grunted and returned his attention to his coffee. He was well-aware of Peter's obsession with Stiles, Peter had never made a secret of it, had point-blank told Chris that he was also in love with Stiles and that he planned on courting the boy once he turned seventeen – and then the possession had happened. Chris had never minded it, he appreciated the honesty, and if he was being honest, he'd never quite seen Peter stand too much of a chance with Stiles. Not that he ever told Peter that. But sure, in the unlikely event that Stiles returned Peter's feelings, Chris would be willing to share his wolf, because Peter's happiness was all that mattered and if having both Chris and Stiles made him happy, so be it. Still, Chris had never looked at Stiles as more than Peter's infatuation and Allison's friend.

/break\

They were cleaning up the plates from dinner – Chris had eaten half a plate, which was an improvement and his wolf had preened at him proudly – when Chris realized what had bothered him that morning. The realization came as sudden as that feeling had this morning. He'd been halfway to the sink with Isaac's plate in hand when his eyes landed on one of the many pictures on the fridge. It was from their earliest days in Beacon Hills. Stiles, Scott and Allison, all squished together and smiling at the camera. Allison was in the middle, Scott half kissing her cheek while smiling, Stiles' arm around her neck, with that lopsided, impish grin of his. Chris was so startled by the realization, he dropped the plate, letting it shatter on the floor.

"Chris?" Peter sounded alarmed, coming to stand in front of him and gently cupping his face. "Darling? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I need to see Stiles," Chris whispered in a raspy voice.

Peter froze, his eyes more guarded now. "...Why?"

"She died to protect him," Chris' voice cracked a little and he could see Peter tense further. "She died when we were all trying to save him. And we did. We saved him. She… She didn't just die. She wasn't just attacked by something, or fell in a fight. She died to protect someone she loved. And she succeeded, Peter. We succeeded. I need to see Stiles, I need to see that he's still alive and that she didn't die for nothing. That we did what… what she died for."

Tension seeped out of Peter and the wolf took a shaky breath. "Okay. We can do that, darling."

For a moment, Chris wondered what had made Peter tense so much to begin with, but his thoughts and feelings were far too mangled for him to concentrate on it. All he could think about was the startling realization that Allison hadn't just fallen in a fight, he had died for someone and that someone was still alive and Chris needed to… needed to see so for himself.

"Come," Peter spoke gently as he picked up his car keys. "Isaac! We'll be out for a bit!"

Chris paused for only a moment as he stood in the doorway, realizing that for the past three weeks, he hadn't left the apartment once. Peter did all the grocery shopping, brought Isaac to school and picked him up again. Swallowing hard, Chris took another step, crossing the threshold. Once again, he was rewarded for the smallest progress with a blinding smile. Peter slipped his hand into Chris' and pulled him along toward their parking garage. They drove in silence, Chris' mind distracted.

He only focused again when they pulled up in front of the Stilinski home. Taking a deep breath, Chris raised his hand to knock on the door, Peter next to him, holding his hand once again. When the sheriff opened the door, Chris recognized himself in the man. The tiredness, the lines on his face, the disheveled state. He looked a lot like Chris had during his first week of awareness.

"Hale," Noah's voice was flat. "Didn't know you knew how to use a door."

Chris frowned, observing how Peter first tensed and then smiled. "Ah. You… noticed."

Noah snorted, crossed his arms and blocked the doorway, not letting them in. "I'd be a lousy sheriff if I didn't notice the grown man breaking into my underage son's bedroom every night, for weeks."

The frown on Chris' face deepened. He'd sometimes noticed Peter not being there when he woke up at night, but he had attributed it to Peter needing some time to himself too. He used to go on morning runs, when Chris had still been able to be an actual damn help in the house. So Chris had assumed Peter had moved his morning runs to the night. It hadn't crossed his mind that Peter might spend his nights in Stiles' bedroom and Chris didn't know what to make of it.

"If you knew… why did you let me?" Peter's voice was curious, but his eyes were guarded.

A deep, tired sigh escaped the sheriff and in that moment, he seemed to age another decade. "Because he's been having less nightmares when you're over. I tried. I tried my damn hardest to comfort him and to make him feel safe but he doesn't. The first night you sneaked into his room was the first night he actually slept through. I'm not…"

Noah swallowed, looking down at the ground. "I don't get why you do it, or why you make him feel a semblance of safety, but… I'm at my wit's end, Hale. I just want my boy to get better. I'm not going to take something that helps away from him, even if I don't understand it."

Peter nodded, stiffly, but Chris could see the way his chest swelled with pride at being able to provide his chosen mate with comfort. Chris gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"My question is what brings you to my door, though," Noah raised an eyebrow, and then turned to look at Chris. "And what brings you here, Argent."

"I…" Chris swallowed hard. "I think I need to see him."

The sheriff just raised his eyebrows, silently urging him on to give more information. And Chris supposed that was fair. The two didn't know each other and Chris was the partner of the man who had, apparently, been breaking into his son's bedroom for weeks.

"She died to save him and I need to see for myself that we did save him. That she… That she didn't die for nothing," Chris forced himself to continue. "I need to see that he's… safe."

The sheriff's face twisted into understanding, grief and pain. With a short nod did he step aside and allow both Peter and Chris into the house. Chris followed Peter inside.

"I trust you know where his room is, Hale."

Peter gave a nod and led the way upstairs, Chris clinging tightly onto his hand. Without knocking, Peter opened a door and led them into what was so clearly a teenage boy's bedroom, it made Chris huff just a little. Until his eyes landed on the bed. Stiles looked… small. Curled together in the middle of his bed, facing the center of the room. Tense, not relaxed in sleep. He had dark bags beneath his eyes, his skin much paler than Chris remembered, hair messy and greasy, face much thinner than it used to be too. It made Chris' heart ache to realize something horrific.

They hadn't saved Stiles. They'd exorcised the Nogitsune, but they clearly hadn't saved Stiles.

Without thinking on it, Chris walked over to the bed and sat down next to the boy. Resting a tentative, shaky hand on Stiles' cheek, then running it through his hair. He'd been so wrapped up in his own grief, he hadn't spared a thought to anybody else and how they were dealing with things. Because, selfishly, Chris didn't care. That was their grief, theirs to deal with, he had enough to deal with himself. He still didn't care. Not about others. About Isaac, yes, because somehow, Isaac had become a part of his life and though Chris was still struggling with Isaac's place in it, he undoubtedly had a place. But nobody outside of their apartment had mattered, until now.

"You've been coming here? Every night?"

"No," Peter sighed, though he looked tense. "I only started coming by after you… came back to me. I couldn't leave my mate unprotected and vulnerable."

Chris swallowed hard, swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. But you consider him your mate too. It didn't need to be said. He could see the pain on Peter's face, could see that this had not been a choice made lightly, but that he had trusted Stiles to have his father, while Chris had no one.

"What do you do?" Chris asked softly, still caressing Stiles' hair. "When you're here?"

"Usually, I read a book," Peter offered, pointing at Stiles' book-shelf. "Or I continue his work. Our work. We had… before the possession… we'd started working on a unified bestiary."

This time, he motioned at Stiles' laptop on the desk. Chris grunted, frowning a little. Peter shrugged, understanding the unasked question even so.

"I just sit here and watch over him," Peter confirmed. "Nothing more. He doesn't… take too kindly to touch, when he's aware."

Chris realized that Peter was sharply watching the way Chris was running his fingers through Stiles' hair. After a moment, Chris pulled his hand back. A small whine escaped the sleeping boy, startling them both. They paused, looking at him, watching. But Stiles didn't wake, he simply curled together even tighter. It made Chris' heart clench.

"Okay," Chris nodded, determination filling him in a way he hadn't felt in too long.

Peter raised one curious eyebrow, but when Chris left the room, he followed. Noah was standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. Waiting for them. The man looked so tired. He might not have lost his child the same way Chris had, but if Stiles truly hadn't talked or left his room in weeks? He had lost his son in a way too.

"Hold on," Noah grunted before they could reach the door. "Go to the kitchen and take your damn Tupperware with you, Hale."

Peter actually froze at that, eyes widening in surprise. "So you figured that out too, huh."

"I am starting to feel insulted by what you think of my deductive skills."

"I had hoped you'd think the food was from Melissa," Peter offered a charming smile.

Something twisted on the sheriff's face. "Melissa has both her hands full with Scott. She doesn't have time to take care of me. She shouldn't have to, either."

Chris frowned surprised. So Peter hadn't just been taking care of him, Isaac and Stiles? He'd also been taking care of the sheriff? His eyes were intense as they bore into Peter and were ignored.

Noah sighed, soft and in defeat. "Thank you, Hale. For watching out for him. And… me. I still don't know why you do it, but I know we wouldn't… I appreciate it."

There was something calculating in Peter's gaze as he regarded the sheriff. "I love your son."

The other two men in the room froze. Chris hadn't seen that coming, neither had Noah.

"He doesn't know," Peter continued, before he could be interrupted. "It's not like we are having a secret affair. I was planning to tell him and to start courting him after his seventeenth birthday, to work our way up to… more… by the time he'd turn eighteen. And then the… Nogitsune happened. I love your son, whether he knows it or reciprocates it doesn't matter, I'm going to help him as best as I can. And taking care of you, dear sheriff, is a part of that. If Stiles had actually left his room and seen the state of this place that first week I came over, it would break his heart."

The sheriff actually flinched at that and Chris made a mental note to inquire further, later.

"I love him and I will take care of him, as best as I can, and as much as he… or you… allow."

When it looked like the sheriff wasn't going to reply, Chris and Peter headed toward the door. Just before they could close it behind them though, they heard Noah call out softly one last time.

"I hate spinach," Noah muttered. "But I like your salmon. And use the damn door from now on."

Peter looked utterly pleased with himself as they closed the door behind themselves and headed toward the car. Chris waited until they were buckled in and driving away from the house.

"What state," was all Chris asked.

The pleased look made room for a grim one. "There were empty bottles of… various alcoholic beverages all over the house, empty take-out containers, leftovers rotting in them. Clearly, the sheriff had been coping with Stiles' state in the only way he could. Drowning himself in alcohol. And I'm aware Stiles does all the cooking in this household, so I suppose I could be glad that the sheriff was eating anything at all. Still, Stiles wouldn't want his father to live from take-out. So I have been… cooking more, when preparing our meals, and leaving a container in their fridge whenever I came to watch over Stiles."

Chris shook his head, regarding his lover's side-profile. "How. How are you taking care of me, of Isaac, of Stiles and of Sheriff Stilinski. How do you…"

"I know grief, Christopher," Peter kept his eyes on the road. "You're my mate. Of course do I take care of you. Stiles is… Of course do I take care of him. And taking care of him means taking care of his father while he can't do it. The pup, I admit, was a surprise. But the first time I found him breaking into our apartment and curling together on Allison's bed, there was… a stirring."

"I need you to explain what that means."

"He was part of the Hale Pack," Peter whispered. "When there still was a Hale Pack. I felt the stirring of a pack-bond. I've never… cared for Scott's puppy pack. I still don't. I only stick around for you and Stiles, otherwise I would have followed Derek and Cora to London already. This was the first time I felt a pack-bond since they left."

Chris hummed, regarding his lover. Nobody knew loss better than Peter Hale. The loss of his family had been devastating, but Chris knew that the loss of pack had hit him even harder. A wolf needed pack, otherwise they went insane. The way Peter had gone, after his coma, after his pack had died or abandoned him. Only when he became an Alpha and started forming a pack of his own had he very gradually regained some grasp on his mind, but it didn't come back fully until he came back from the dead to join a proper pack – Derek, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Chris knew that Scott and Stiles had been part of the Hale Pack back then too. Pack had helped him recover.

Chris had known he'd kept Peter here, he knew that when Derek and Cora had declared, after Derek had lost his Alpha spark – lost the Hale Alpha Spark – that they'd leave Beacon Hills, leave the bad memories behind, Peter wanted to follow his pack, his only living family. But he had stayed. And Chris thought that, maybe, he would have been ready to leave with Peter, together with Allison, but he hadn't wanted to tear her away from the first real friends she'd ever made, from the boys she loved – she might have been with Isaac and might have loved him, but Chris knew that a part of her had also still loved Scott, had never stopped loving Scott. All of that was something he couldn't take away from his daughter. Now he wished he had. She'd still be alive, she might have resented him for a while but they'd started a new life in London and she would have been fine.

But she wasn't. She was dead. And he needed to live in the now, not in the what-ifs.

"What do you want to do now, darling?" Peter asked softly.

"Help him," Chris frowned. "I don't know how, but… but he needs to live, because she can't."

Peter refrained from commenting and Chris was grateful. He was aware how it sounded, how unfair it was to put this burden on Stiles, but he also couldn't find it in himself to care, right now.

/break\

Over the following three weeks, they started a strange, new routine. They got Noah's number, and his work-schedule. When the sheriff was working, Chris, Peter and Isaac ate at home and the two men only left for the Stilinski house after, leaving Isaac to do his homework and head to bed. Whenever the sheriff was home in the evening though, Chris, Peter and Isaac would eat dinner at the Stilinski house, together with Noah. It was stilted at first, they didn't know each other, they had no connection, this was an unusual situation. That eased, with time.

There was a guest-room at the end of the hall, a dusty place that, according to the sheriff, hadn't been used since his wife passed. Before, her family would regularly visit, especially during her stay in the hospital. Now, it hadn't seen usage in years. Chris and Peter didn't take him up on the offer, the whole point was for them to watch over Stiles, after all. After two weeks though, Isaac took the guest room for the first time. Because they'd talked long, after dinner, and when Chris and Peter headed upstairs to Stiles' room, Isaac had remained at the kitchen table with Noah, doing his homework with the sheriff's help. They'd run so late with it, Noah had insisted the boy stay over too, go to the guest bedroom that had been waiting for usage for two weeks now and sleep there.

At this point, Isaac also stayed the night whenever he was over with them. It seemed to help the kid too. It seemed to help the sheriff too. Chris felt like it was helping all of them, even Peter, because he didn't have to split his time between the two households like he had before, he got to watch over both his mates at the same time. It was good. Strange, but good.

After the first week, Peter bought a sleeping couch for Stiles' room. They rearrange furniture under the near vacant gaze of the boy, putting the couch up right opposite his bed. Chris wasn't a damn wolf, he couldn't spend all sleeping in a seated position, after all. It frightened him that Stiles didn't comment, didn't react. Was that what Peter had dealt with with him, in the beginning?

That day, he kissed Peter, with more fierce passion than he had mustered since Allison's death, trying to convey how sorry he was for what he had put his lover through.

The routine was good. The routine worked. Well. It worked for the sheriff – Noah, the three men started being on a first-name base after two weeks of their new routine – and for Chris and Peter and even Isaac. Only Stiles, the whole damn reason they were there, didn't seem affected.

Or so they all thought, until after roughly three weeks had passed. Peter was laying behind Stiles, holding him close. Stiles had had another nightmare that had left him screaming his lungs out. The only thing that calmed him was tight physical contact. Being restrained, essentially. It eased him back to a fitful sleep. Usually, Peter would then simply stay in Stiles' bed. After all, it was the only time someone was allowed to touch the boy. Even when he stared vacantly ahead during the day, if someone touched him, he'd violently flinch away from it.

Chris woke up, that morning, and rolled over to look at Peter and Stiles, just to find Stiles staring straight at him. It startled Chris. He'd always assumed that Stiles remained asleep until after they left, he'd always lay still, breath evenly, eyes closed.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Chris offered gruffly.

And when had he started adapting Peter's damn nickname for the kid. He didn't expect a reply. They kept talking to Stiles, greeting him, wishing him a good night in the evening, whispering reassurances during his nightmares. Isaac would sometimes sit with him during the day and tell him about school, about how the rest of the pack was doing (never about how they were doing in regards of Allison. Never bringing up her death. They didn't want to make him retreat further).

"Morning."

Chris froze at that single word. The voice was rough and cracked, disused for too long, but it was Stiles' voice alright. Behind Stiles, Peter visibly tensed too, clearly also awake. Ice-blue eyes snapped open and stared at Chris in marvelous surprise.

"Do you…" Chris swallowed hard, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "Do you want some food?"

Stiles shook his head in a jerky motion. He didn't look away from Chris though.

"Do…" Chris didn't want to ask, but he had to. "Do you know how much time has passed?"

Because he remembered coming back to himself, disoriented, feeling like Allison had only just died that day even though it had been two weeks and that realization had been jarring. Something twisted on Stiles' face, something that Chris couldn't identify, and then Stiles looked away.

"Fifty-eight days," Stiles muttered.

Three weeks. And two days. Chris' own face contorted into a pained grimace as he realized that Stiles was acutely aware of the passage of time and had been counting the days since the possession had ended. Fifty-eight days. Chris nodded slowly, taking a breath and smoothing out his face.

"How much… of what's happened since then, are you… aware of, sweetheart?"

No verbal answer but the look in Stiles' eyes changed. Sharpened. Everything, was the unspoken answer. Chris didn't know what to do with that, either. He looked at Peter for guidance, but his wolf looked as lost as he felt, and too overwhelmed by the fact that Stiles was speaking again.

"Do you want me to get your father?"

A quick jerk of his head. No. Not ready for the emotions and the guilt, Chris guessed.

"That's okay," Chris reassured him. "We're just glad you're back with us."

Stiles' face screwed up again, a look of confusion. "Why?"

Chris huffed out a hollow laugh at that. "Because we were worried about you, kid."

The surprise sharpened. Mh. What had Stiles thought they were doing here, then?

"Stiles," Chris made sure to keep his voice very soft. "Why do you think we're here?"

Silence. The question would require too many words, for now. Chris sighed. They accepted the silence and allowed Stiles to just lay there, staring at Chris with too much intensity. At breakfast, they didn't tell the sheriff about this just yet. No need to get his hopes up if this was just a blip.

/break\

Five days later, Chris got his answer. He hadn't expected it. Him and Peter were curled together on the couch, watching Stiles sleep, or so they thought. It was dark in the room, they couldn't even see their boy, so maybe the darkness helped Stiles find his words.

"To make sure I don't hurt anyone."

The words were whispered and small and they broke Chris' heart. Peter behind him whined. Actually whined. A sound the proud wolf would never willingly make.

"Sweetheart," Peter's voice cracked. "Is that why you let me stay here every night? Because… Because you thought I was protecting others from you?"

A stretch of silence and when Chris started to believe they wouldn't get an answer anymore, Stiles spoke again. "Dad's safe when you're here."

"Your father is perfectly safe whether I am here or not-"

"No," the word was sharp, forceful, startling Chris. "What if it comes back. It'd use me to hurt him. He's safe when you're here. You'll stop me."

Peter got off the couch and walked toward the bed, sitting down next to Stiles. Chris followed him, regarding the boy with sad eyes. That… Chris hadn't considered this yet. He'd thought it was grief and PTSD, not that Stiles was afraid of the Nogitsune returning, of him being used to hurt others.

"I'm here to protect you, Stiles," Peter spoke forcefully. "And your father. But not from you."

Stiles frowned up at them, confusion clear in his eyes. It should be a victory to see emotions in those big, brown eyes again, but not this. Not like this. Chris sighed and reached out to run a hand through his hair, just to have the boy flinch away. Right.

/break\

The next day, they told the sheriff, and Isaac, about the fact that Stiles talked. Both were overjoyed by the news. They also, very gently, explained to Noah why Stiles was okay with Chris and Peter being in their room. Chris could see the way the man's heart broke and when Noah headed upstairs, Chris couldn't help but follow. Concerned. He didn't want it to escalate.

"Hey, kiddo," Noah's voice cracked. "Chris and Peter told me you're feeling more talkative now, mh? They… They also told me that… that you think they need to protect me from you?"

There was a pause and Chris could only imagine the wrecked look on Noah's face. "Kiddo, you don't… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the way I should have when we lost your mom, I'm sorry you ever started to think that you need to take care of me. I'm your father, I'm supposed to protect you. I'm trying, I promise I'm trying, I promise I'll do better, but please, please don't… don't retreat again, don't shut me out. I can't lose you too, Mietek."

A small, broken noise came from Stiles at the name and Chris briefly wondered if that was Stiles' actual name, or if it was a private pet-name between father and son. Whatever it was, it must hold significance, because the next moment, there was sobbing. Broken, wrecked sobs from Stiles. Emotions. Letting himself cry, finally, after all these weeks. Chris sagged against the wall in relief.

"It's going to be okay, kiddo," Noah whispered as he finally got to hold his boy close again, for the first time in months. "We're going to get through this, together, okay. We're not alone this time, Stiles. There are… There are people who care about us, who are helping us."

Chris was startled by the warmth he felt in his chest at these words. It started to feel too intrusive to listen in, so he returned back downstairs to the kitchen, where he found Isaac with his head hanging low and a sad smile on his lips. Peter was staring out the window, a far-off look on his face. Right. Werewolf hearing. Approaching his mate, Chris wrapped his arms around Peter's waist and pulled him close against his chest, kissing the back of his neck.

/break\

"Just move in already."

Noah sounded long-suffering as he said these words the next morning at breakfast. It was a Saturday, one of the rare ones where all of them had gotten to sleep in. Isaac stared up from his cereals with a startled expression, eyes flitting between the three adults. Peter stood frozen.

"You lot haven't left my house in over a week," Noah raised his eyebrows. "And even before that, you have come to spend more days here than not, for weeks. It would be significantly easier if you just moved into the house for good. The kid needs a stable home, not a tug 'o war."

He motioned at Isaac at these words, making the blonde blush a little. Chris turned to exchange a startled look with Peter. His wolf was radiating eagerness in a rare manner. Chris was stunned to find his own heart fill with a warm sense of eagerness. The apartment had stopped feeling like home when Allison had died. It had become a shrine. Too many things hadn't been moved since she died – her toothbrush, her papers on the living room table, all things in her room that Isaac didn't need to disturb to sleep in her bed, even her favorite cup still stood upside down at the sink where she had put it to dry off after rinsing it, the day they'd left, the day she had…

"Where do you suppose we are going to stay?" Chris raised his eyebrows.

Noah shrugged and turned away from them. "I still don't know what to make of whatever kind of relationship the two of you have with my son and if we were in… any kind of normal situation… I would disapprove. But this isn't normal. Nothing about it is. I'm aware you sleep in his bed more often than not at this point, because he lets you touch him. So. Buy a bigger bed."

"You…" Peter trailed off and shut up at the sharp look from Noah.

No need to poke him. They knew Noah allowed them to stay, knew he allowed them to comfort Stiles. But between them sleeping on a couch in Stiles' room and buying a bigger bed so they could sleep in the same bed as him? There was a difference there.

"He's talking again, Peter," Noah's voice cracked. "I thought I'd never hear my boy's voice again. I don't understand this, but it's working for him and I just… need him to get better. But you are paying for the bed, we absolutely do not have the money to spare for that."

"Naturally," Peter said smoothly, perking up even more.

Getting to provide for his chosen mate. Chris snorted softly. He remembered all the ridiculous gifts his wolf had left him during their courting phase. A soft smile spread over Chris' lips at that. At Peter being allowed this. And he realized, the smile was not just for Peter's sake.

"What do you say, kid?" Chris asked, turning to Isaac. "You've been moved around with little say for a while now. If you don't want to…"

"I like it here," Isaac blurted out, eyes wide and hopeful as he stared at the sheriff. "I like being here. And I think… I think what I was doing wasn't… wasn't healthy. Living in her room. I was clinging onto… I need to… It's time to move on. I think. Not… Not forget, but…"

"Move on," Noah repeated kindly. "I know what you mean, kid. Feel free to make the guest-room yours, mh? If you want anything moved out of it, just say so."

Isaac perked up at those words and nodded enthusiastically. Well, now they at least knew what they were going to do with their weekend. Chris took a sip from his coffee, feeling oddly okay. Like he was going to be okay. For the first time since her death, Chris had the feeling that things could be okay again. He blinked, startled by that realization, unsure how to feel about it.

/break\

They started out with buying a bed large enough for three. Ridiculously expensive, in Chris' opinion, but nothing was good enough for Peter Hale, at least not when he bought it for his mates. This was the first thing he got to buy for both his mates, so Chris indulged him. Besides, it was a damn comfortable bed. They managed to coax Stiles onto the couch while dismantling his old bed and putting up the new one. While Peter and Chris did that, Isaac sat with Stiles and talked to him.

The rest of the day, and all of Sunday, were spent packing up the Argent apartment. Noah came along to help them too. This was the hard part. The hardest was Allison's room. Chris stared down at the boxes with her name on them, with her things in them, and he didn't know what to do.

"We can put them in the basement," Noah suggested gently. "With Claudia's things."

The reminder of the sheriff's loss made Chris nod jerkily. The basement sounded good. With the very last of the boxes in their hands did they leave the apartment for the last time, heading to the Stilinski house. Heading home. The thought filled Chris' chest with warmth.

Because it was the truth. He had come to think of the Stilinski household as home a while ago. It was warm, it was filled with the people he cared about. He saw Isaac and Noah doing homework at the dining table, Peter and Noah watching some crime show and bickering about who the culprit was, himself and Noah in the man's office, bending over whatever current case Noah was working on, himself and Peter curled together on the couch after a long day. This was home.

The couch went out again, so they had room for another closet, for Chris and Peter's clothes. Stiles just laid on their new bed, watching the two men put away their clothes like they owned the place.

"Why," Stiles asked softly, halfway though.

"Because we care about you, doll," Chris offered after a moment.

And when had he found his own pet-name for Stiles? The boy curled tighter together but didn't comment otherwise. Yet both Peter and Chris were acutely aware of his thoughts. They shared a look and a sigh. It would take some longer to convince Stiles that he was worth being cared for.

/break\

When Peter and Chris woke up in their new bed for the first time, they woke up alone. A cold fear gripped Chris and he stared around wide-eyed. Peter's eyes flashed blue and he inhaled deeply. He relaxed some, which meant Stiles was still in the house, so Chris also relaxed. The two of them went downstairs together. What they found was a surprise.

Stiles stood in the kitchen, wearing just his boxers and one of Chris' shirts – he'd gone to bed wearing a Batman graphic tee, which meant he'd gotten changed on his own – and he was holding a cup in his hand. When Chris entered the kitchen, Stiles thrust it out at him. Coffee.

"Did… Did you make coffee, doll?" Chris asked, looking from the coffee to Stiles.

Stiles nodded sharply and returned to the coffee maker to pour another cup, handing this one to Peter, who smiled delighted at Stiles and thanked him like he'd just been handed the Hope Diamond. Both men sat down at the table together, their eyes not leaving Stiles, even as their hands found each other, linking on top of the kitchen table. Stiles remained by the coffee maker, filling two more cups. He seemed nervous, tense. But he stayed.

"Good morning," Noah yawned and scratched his stomach as he scratched his stomach. "Isaac is still asleep. He claims 'five more minutes' but he did that ten minutes ago alrea-"

He stopped in the middle of the word when his eyes landed on his son. Upright, outside his own bedroom. Holding a coffee cup in his hands and holding it out to his dead with an unreadable expression on his face. It took Noah some moments to process.

"T… Thank you, kiddo," Noah smiled warmly. "Did you make that?"

Again, Stiles nodded, buzzing with nerves. The smile on Noah's lips widened as he took a sip. After a moment, Peter got up and walked over to start breakfast. Stiles stayed standing in the corner, watching Peter. Like he wanted to help, but couldn't bring himself to interact that much yet.

"It's quite alright, sweetheart," Peter assured him gently, also picking up on it. "I got it covered."

With a nod did Stiles go and sit down with his dad and Chris. When Isaac walked into the kitchen, he paused surprised for only a moment before recovering and thankfully enough acting as normal as possible. Chris smiled proudly at Stiles, earning the faintest flush from the boy.

/break\

Chris was sitting at the desk in their room, at his laptop. Working. He'd started consulting the sheriff's office in a more official capacity, after the first couple cases that Noah had asked him to take a look at. The supernatural was still a danger to this town and the sheriff's station not being in the know had cost many of them their lives already.

While Chris worked, Isaac and Stiles were sitting on the bed together. Isaac was talking about the last date Kira and Malia had gone on and how they accidentally ran into an actual ghoul, which had majorly ruined date-night, of course. And while Stiles still wasn't talkative, he would ask the occasional, short question. Showing interest. Interacting. It filled Chris' heart with pride.

"So…" Isaac trailed off, awkwardly, fidgeting.

Chris raised an eyebrow, watching the boy from the corner of his eyes. Stiles tensed and hummed inquisitively. Both of them waiting for what had Isaac nervous.

"Boyd and Erica asked about you," Isaac was still fidgeting with his phone. "I told them you're… you're doing better. Not good, but better. And they… they asked if you would be okay if they came over? They're currently in California and they'd love to swing by, see you."

Now it was Chris' turn to tense. Stiles had only barely started leaving his room last week and he was only talking in short sentences and still avoiding to speak as much as possible. He hadn't seen anyone outside of this household yet, not even Scott, even though the rest of the pack kept asking about him, apparently. Chris could see the way Stiles was holding his breath. Chris could also see Peter just outside, gripping the doorknob hard. Ready to come in and help in case this caused Stiles to have a panic-attack. Even though both Chris and Isaac had gotten pretty good at dealing with those too, Peter's instincts didn't let him leave his mate suffering alone.

"It's okay if you're not ready," Isaac said softly. "I could go and meet them at a diner or something. But I didn't want them to come to Beacon Hills and you not knowing about it, I know you three…"

Had been very close ever since they'd been kidnapped and tortured by Gerard Argent. That part remained unspoken but known by everyone in the room. Chris couldn't help the guilt twisting his cut, his hands shaking slightly. But yes, he'd known from Isaac about the fact that though Boyd and Erica had left Beacon Hills a year ago, before the Alpha Pack had attacked, that the two teens stayed in contact with both Isaac and Stiles, separately.

"They'd like to see you, but they also understand if that's too much for you just yet."

"I want," Stiles' voice broke at how forceful his words were. "I want to see them."

Chris' head snapped over, staring at him in surprise. Isaac beamed at Stiles, nodding.

"Okay, awesome. I'll text them, let them know to come over. They'll be really happy."

Chris couldn't help but smile, pleased. Progress. Their boy was making progress.

/break\

When Boyd and Erica arrived, they first hugged and scent-marked Isaac excessively. Chris hung as far back as he could, still remembering the two teens strung up on electricity in his basement, remembered letting them go and watching them leave town. They looked good. Healthy, happy, grown up. Erica was wearing flannel over a too tight top, leather pants that quite frankly looked uncomfortable, and her hair in shoulder-long curls. Boyd had grown his hair out some though, not overly long but in twists that fell around his chin, a shade of beard on his face.

"I missed you so much," Erica gasped, nipping at Isaac's jaw.

"I see you got more in tune with your wolves since we last met."

Both betas turned to look at Peter at his words, all three of them flashing their eyes. Chris smiled amused. He wondered if Peter felt a bond with them too, the way he had with Isaac. There was a certain tension in the air. He'd ask later. When they were alone.

"Okay," Erica straightened up and took a deep breath. "Where is he? How is he? What do we need to do when we meet him, like, what's a big no-no?"

"He's in the shower right now," Peter replied, noticing that Chris was uncomfortable with this interaction. "He'll be another moment, so why don't you come inside? Something to drink?"

Both teens nodded, though they did look wary. Chris couldn't fault them. They didn't know Peter, they only know of Peter, and there was a damn lot of reputation there. The five of them headed to the kitchen together, Peter getting glasses and sodas out for the teens.

"He doesn't like to be touched," Isaac answered her question after a moment. "He only lets Peter touch him, otherwise, he needs to be to initiate contact. So… don't just jump him? And don't expect him to talk. At all, or a lot. He still only speaks rarely, so don't take it personal."

Boyd and Erica both nodded and listened attentively. Chris appreciated that. He came to stand next to Peter, taking his mate's hand for reassurance. This was a big step for their boy and they were both nervous about it. Peter gently ran his thumb over the backside of Chris' hand.

"We suggest the living room for this," Peter tagged on after a moment. "I am not comfortable letting you into my den, but the living room should suffice."

Neither of the two reacted to that, which meant Isaac had told them about their current living arrangements. Chris wondered what they thought about it. When they went to head into the living room did both Boyd and Erica pause in front of Chris for a long moment.

"Thank you," Boyd spoke softly. "We never… got around to saying that, back then, before we left."

Chris' eyes widened in surprise, but he gave a jerky nod. He hadn't known what to expect. Gratitude wasn't it. Even if he had gotten them out of the basement, ultimately it had been his fault that they ended up in there. If he'd been stronger, against his father, if—Peter squeezed his hand, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. They headed into the living room together. It didn't take much longer for Stiles to come downstairs. He was wearing one of Isaac's shirts and Peter's sweat-pants. He'd taken to wearing their clothes, all four of their clothes. Covering himself in their scent. The two wolves in the house appreciated it immensely.

"Hey, Batman," Erica offered him the broadest grin.

While Isaac, Peter and Chris had sat down on one of the couches – there were now two couches, since the sleeping couch from Stiles' room needed a new home – Erica and Boyd had remained standing. Tense and filled with suspense. They had only been texting and calling with Stiles, ever since they left. Hadn't been able to come back when they all thought Stiles was dying, having been too far away without means of getting back. Stiles' eyes lit up when he looked at them, actually lit up. There were small sparks of emotions at times, but overall, they remained dull.

"Hey, Catwoman," Stiles even mustered a crooked grin. "Hey, big guy."

"Stiles," Boyd smiled at him. "It's good to see you."

For a few moments, the teens just stood there. Until there was a shaking in Stiles' hands. He was pressing his thumbs against the pads of his other fingers, one by one, forcefully, deliberately. Counting his fingers. It was a habit they'd noticed ever since Stiles left his bed. He'd probably been doing it even before, beneath his sheets. Counting his fingers to make sure he was awake, to make sure this was real and not a dream. Still doubting reality. After counting his fingers three times, Stiles took a slow, calming breath and walked over to them with certain steps. And then he threw himself at them, forceful and desperate, clinging onto them both. The betas were startled at first, but quickly wrapped their arms around him too, pulling him closer against them.

"Hey, Batman," Erica's voice was much softer this time. "You're still here."

Stiles laughed, a wet and hiccuping sound. "You're still here."

"I'm sorry, we wanted to be here when…" Boyd wisely trailed off. "But we couldn't."

"No. No, it's okay. It's okay," Stiles' voice dropped. "It's okay. I never expected anyone to drop their lives for me. I… I know why you left. You shouldn't have to come back for me-"

"We came back because we wanted to see you, and Isaac," Erica interrupted him fiercely. "Besides, we got better, in the past year. We… Leaving helped. It really did. We needed it. This place doesn't… scare us the same way it did when we left. We're okay being here."

Stiles nodded and he slowly removed himself from them, shaking. Too much physical contact still overwhelmed him. Honestly, Chris was surprised he'd hugged them to begin with. But then he guessed he wasn't privy to what kind of relationship they had. He hadn't really known Stiles all that much before the possession. Now, he regretted that.

"Tell me," Stiles requested as he sat down. "Everything."

Erica laughed as they sat down. She leaned into Boyd, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Both looking at Stiles before they launched into their tale. True to his request, they did tell him everything, even the parts Chris assumed they'd already told him through texts and phone calls.

Apparently, after leaving Beacon Hills, the teens settled two towns over and got jobs. Erica as a waitress, Boyd helping out at a mechanic who didn't ask questions. They lived in a cheap motel and made money, only staying a few months before continuing, after they could afford a good enough car. Ever since, they'd been on a road trip through the states, essentially. Every town they stayed in for a couple weeks or so, they would first introduce themselves to the local Alpha, ask permission and by staying under their protection, avoided becoming omegas.

Stiles frowned, concerned. "So you still haven't found a permanent pack?"

Erica shrugged, resting her head on Boyd's shoulder. "We're a pack of two. That's all that matters."

"That's not going to last you forever," Peter growled softly, in warning. "Having your mate to anchor you helps, but it only delays the inevitable if you don't find a pack."

"Speaking from experience there," Boyd raised his eyebrows in challenge.

Much to Chris' surprise did Peter not lash out, he rather just huffed out a laugh. "I do have a pack of more than two, but you are… not wrong. There are contingencies for when it becomes pressing."

More than Chris had expected for Peter to reveal. He reached for his mate's hand, giving it a supportive squeeze yet again, his eyes on Peter, soft and concerned. A soft hum from Stiles drew their attention. Big, brown eyes were narrowed, focusing on Peter. It sent a thrill through Chris. That kind of focus, he hadn't seen it on Stiles since the possession, but he remembered it. Remembered the problem solver of the pack zooming in on an issue to solve.

"Tell me," Stiles ordered. "When you do. Tell me."

Peter tilted his head, curious and intrigued. "When it does become pressing?"

"No, when you go and kill an Alpha."

The room froze and tensed, all eyes darting between Peter and Stiles. Isaac made a slightly distressed noise at the prospect of his pack-mate doing something dangerous and potentially deadly. Chris pressed his lips together. He knew of Peter's plan, of course. He didn't know if he approved, but he knew Peter wasn't a part of the McCall Pack and Peter was never going to submit to a foreign Alpha. Killing an Alpha and regaining the status himself was the only thing that Peter would allow to happen. Still, Chris knew he hadn't wanted to tell Stiles, not to worry Stiles. The plan was for Chris and Peter to track down a rogue Alpha, hopefully not too many hours away, go and hunt them down together and then return to Stiles and only tell him once Peter was an Alpha again.

Chris sat tensely, waiting for Peter's reaction, but his wolf simply laughed, loud and genuine.

"I missed that clever mind of yours, sweetheart," Peter's voice was a delighted purr. "Very well. I promise me and Chris will tell you before we leave."

"No," Stiles frowned. "I'm coming."

Again, the people in the room froze. Peter's laughter died and his hand tightened its grip on Chris'.

"Sweetheart, with all due respect, you… haven't left the house in months. You're not going to leave the town, much less to hunt down a feral werewolf," Peter raised an eyebrow.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Peter. "I killed more feral Alphas than you did."

A strangled laugh escaped Peter at the way Stiles just threw his own murder at Peter. "God, I missed you. But that is still beside the point, sweetheart."

He was challenging Stiles to give him one good reason, a smug smirk on Peter's lips, convinced that he had the upper hand here. And he did. Stiles had barely made it to the living room three days ago for the first time, it had only been his room, the bathroom and the kitchen so far. But he wanted to leave town? To hunt down a feral Alpha? Chris agreed with Peter on that one. Not only was Stiles not ready to do this, Chris and Peter were not going to put him in danger.

"I will not lose you," Stiles' voice was more forceful and certain than they'd all heard it in months. "I can not lose you. If you go and just… never come back, if you die, I'm not… going to come back from that. I will come and I will do everything I can to make sure I don't lose you."

Peter choked and nodded, helpless in the face of Stiles' conviction and the implications here. That his life meant so much to Stiles that Stiles was convinced he wouldn't be able to overcome his death. Stiles took a small breath at the nod, relaxing. He sagged down some, running his hands over his face, suddenly looking extremely exhausted. This was more than he'd ever spoken, it was emotional, and social gatherings in general could be very draining.

"I'm tired," Stiles turned to Boyd and Erica with furrowed brows.

Like he wanted to go to bed, but was afraid they'd be gone if he woke up in the morning. The sheriff, who had gotten home about half an hour earlier and headed to the kitchen to heat up leftover dinner and eat in peace, rounded the corner and entered the room.

"We're gonna stay in a motel downtown," Boyd smiled reassuringly. "We're staying a couple days."

"Like hell you are," Noah frowned at the two. "You kids aren't staying in a motel. The couch you're sitting on is pull-out and apparently comfortable enough, ask Peter and Chris. You're staying."

"We wouldn't want to impose, sir," Boyd was quick to argue.

He also got slapped on the chest by his mate when Erica saw the way Stiles' face lit up at the prospect of them staying here. Boyd ducked his head when he noticed, looking at the sheriff with a short, grateful nod. Noah grunted, pleased with that, and returned to the kitchen.

"Gonna rename this house 'Stilinski's Home For Wayward Wolves and Hunters'," Noah muttered.

Chris huffed out a laugh and shook his head fondly. Stiles got up and waved at everyone goodnight, but before heading upstairs, he walked into the kitchen to join his dad. Silence stretched on. Chris had to strain to hear and he was acutely aware of the wolves listening in too.

"I… I will," Stiles spoke softly, aware that his dad had heard their conversation. "I will go with them. Please don't… don't fight me on this…"

"Kiddo, I haven't been able get between whatever this is so far, I'm not going to start now," Noah heaved a tired and exhausted sigh. "I wish I could shield you from any danger, I wish you wouldn't want to go out and hunt down a feral Alpha werewolf, but… but if there is anyone I trust to bring you home to me safely, it's Peter and Chris. And I do understand why you feel like you have to go."

Chris felt warm at that level of trust and he could see the wondrous and proud look on Peter's face.

/break\

That night, when they went to bed, Stiles clung onto Chris' shirt, curled against his chest, while Peter was once again spooning their boy from behind. Sandwiching Stiles in safety. Peter kept staring down at their boy with awe-filled eyes.

"I didn't expect that," Peter whispered once they thought Stiles was asleep. "He…"

"At one point, we will have to talk to him about what this is," Chris replied.

Peter tore his eyes away from Stiles to instead look at Chris, curious. "What is this, then? You've known how I feel about him from the beginning. You were always willing to share me, but… something has changed, hasn't it, Christopher?"

All Chris could do was hum while staring down at Stiles. "I don't know. But I know that I need him. Not the way I thought when this started, when I thought I needed to know he's safe because of Allison, for Allison, because she died to save him. This… This is about him. I need him safe because I need him. I… don't know anything beyond that though."

"That's okay, darling," Peter smiled at him. "That's… already more than I asked for. And I think it's also more than Stiles would have ever asked for."

Stiles made a small, affirmative noise, drawing their attention down to him. He didn't open his eyes though or react otherwise, so he clearly wasn't ready to be a part of this conversation. He just wanted Chris to know that Peter was right. Following an impulse, Chris pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles' head. The boy tensed for a moment, before relaxing fully.

/break\

Boyd and Erica had been staying with them for four days when Chris walked into their bedroom to find Stiles on his computer, on a zoom call with someone. Chris froze when he recognized the boy.

"Jackson," Chris blinked repeatedly. "Hello."

"Hello, Mister Argent," Jackson greeted, waving. "Stiles mentioned you're… living with him? Not judging, since I'm living with the Hales."

Chris pursed his lips at that. After Derek and Cora had moved to London, they'd connected with Jackson and the three had been forming pack-bonds with each other. Peter kept Chris updated on the Hales. Chris knew how much Peter craved to be with them too.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," Chris looked down at Stiles. "I'll just get my book."

Chris' eyes lingered on Stiles and Jackson though, wondering. With his book in hand, he returned back downstairs, where Peter was watching TV with Boyd, Erica and Isaac. Erica and Peter were actually gossiping about the reality TV show they were watching. Something they'd been doing since the couple arrived here, watching trash TV in the evening. Erica and Peter matched each other in bitchy commentary to a degree that scared Chris as much as it made him happy. Because Stiles wasn't the only one who only existed in this house. Chris and Peter had reduced their life to this house too, to watching out for Stiles, Isaac and Noah. For their pack.

"I thought you wanted to go upstairs and read there because we were getting on your nerves, darling," Peter raised an eyebrow at him while stealing popcorn from Boyd.

"Stiles is… having a video call with Jackson Whittemore," Chris replied. "I didn't want to intrude."

"Video call?" Isaac perked up and smiled a little. "Progress."

"Progress?" Erica echoed, one eyebrow raised. "Whittemore? Talking to Whittemore is progress?"

Isaac shrugged and returned his attention to the TV. "After Derek got back to London and told Jackson about what had happened, Jackson reached out to Stiles. And when Stiles… you know, started interacting with people again, he checked his messages. The two have been… trauma-bonding? Over the Nogitsune and the kanima. Killing people because someone else controlled your body. I think this is really helping Stiles, because… we, we're trying, but… we won't actually understand what he's been through? And he now has someone to talk to who does get it. But it's only been texts so far, since he hasn't been very verbal. That he's ready to talk to Jackson, and even be seen like that, it's… it is progress."

Chris sat down next to Isaac and opened his book, while everyone fell quiet. He'd suspected something like this, but he was relieved to hear it. He read for about an hour before Stiles came downstairs to join them, squeezing in between Peter and Erica, much to both their delight. He didn't speak, all talked out after his conversation with Jackson, but he was with them. That mattered.

/break\

Chris smiled amused to himself as he walked downstairs early in the morning about a week later, finding Erica and Boyd still asleep on the couch, curled together in an uncomfortable looking entanglement. Erica was wearing a hoodie she'd stolen from Stiles.

Walking into the kitchen, Chris found Peter making breakfast, and Stiles helping him. He'd been tentative and he only helped, never took over – even though, according to Noah, cooking used to be his passion, he'd pretty much taken over the household after Claudia died (something Noah was still very ashamed of and feeling guilty about), but cooking was something he had come to love.

"Stop that, you heathen," Stiles glared and smacked Peter on the hand with a spatula.

"I'm the heathen? You're the one who put cinnamon in the pancake batter," Peter hissed.

Chris couldn't help it, he started laughing. It startled them both, causing them to jump and turn around to look at him. The look on Peter's face was filled with so much love and awe and it took Chris a moment to realize why. This was… the first time he'd laughed, loud and genuine and out of happiness, since Allison had died. He blinked surprised at that realization too.

"What do I have to do to make you laugh like that again, darling?"

Peter walked over to him, wrapping his arms around Chris' neck to pull him into a kiss. Chris grunted, laying his own arms around Peter's waist to pull his wolf closer, smiling at him.

"You two," Chris whispered roughly. "Bickering. It's… charming."

He turned to look at Stiles. There was an unreadable expression on Stiles' face as he watched them. Guarded. Not giving away what he was thinking or feeling. It started to make Chris feel uneasy to not know where they were standing, but then he couldn't ask Stiles either, since he didn't have an answer yet himself. Mostly because he wasn't ready to face his own feelings yet.

/break\

Boyd, Chris and Noah had outvoted Erica and Peter on the TV for once, because there was a football game on this Saturday and they were not watching that toxic romance competition when there was football. Isaac simply shrugged, not caring either way. It had been close to three weeks now, since Boyd and Erica arrived and they hadn't brought up leaving yet.

When Stiles stalked into the room with purpose and with his laptop under his arm, the game suddenly became less interesting. Stiles came to sit on the living room table, right in front of them all, and opened his laptop to show them. He had maps open, a place two towns over blinking as a marked location. Chris furrowed his brows, looking at the boy expectantly.

"There have been an uptake of 'animal attacks' in Silver Lake," Stiles spoke after a moment. "I've been tracking them. Jackson reached out to Danny for me to make a program that tracks news about weird animal attacks. And yes, I'm sure it's a rogue Alpha and not an omega, because the news articles also warn about people illegally hunting the animals, based on 'red laser dots' spotted in the woods. Which, I am assuming are not precision lasers but rather Alpha eyes."

That were more words in one go than he had said so far and more passion and excitement in his voice than they were used to. Noah frowned deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. The betas exchanged wary looks. Peter was staring at Stiles as though he hung the sun and moon.

"It's a contingency plan. For when something needs to change," Chris argued. "When we can't go on like this anymore. Nothing about Peter's behavior indicates that so far."

Stiles had the audacity to roll his eyes at Chris, which would infuriate him if he wasn't so happy to see a spark of sass return to the teen. "Right, because rogue Alphas just grow on trees and will be readily available when we need to hurry the fuck up, Christopher."

Peter snorted out a delighted laugh at that. Though he too looked reluctant. Peter loved power, he craved being an Alpha ever since he'd lost it. But there were reasons why he hadn't gone on the hunt himself yet. Part of it was the uncertainty of their survival; feral Alphas were dangerous and him and Chris alone could have easily ended with at least one of them dead. The other reason was the fact that Beacon Hills was no longer Hale territory, it was McCall territory. And it was too small a town for two packs, especially two with as loaded a history as Peter and Scott. Which meant he'd have to leave, he'd have to leave Stiles. Chris, after Allison's death, had nothing else to tie him to this damned place and recently, he'd been thinking more and more that maybe leaving would be for the best, starting new, somewhere else. But leaving meant leaving the Stilinskis and Isaac behind.

"Sweetheart…" Peter trailed off and sighed.

"Our pack needs an Alpha," Stiles glared Peter down. "Man up, Hale."

It was the way he said 'our' that had Peter audibly purr, his eyes flashing blue at Stiles. The reaction put a blush on Stiles' cheeks that everyone in the room had the decency to not comment on.

"I'm not so sure about this," Chris frowned. "It's been working so far."

"It's been working so far because you, me and dad are human and… humans factor into packs differently. Isaac still mostly had his ties to the McCall Pack, keeping him from being an omega. And Peter has, quite frankly, just been doing the same that Boyd and Erica have been doing. Staying here and having the bare minimum contact with the local Alpha to keep him from being an omega and putting the brunt force of keeping his sanity onto our mate-bonds, Chris."

It was the way he said our mate-bonds that had everyone in the room freeze, not that Stiles noticed, he simply barreled on. "Mate-bonds aren't supposed to replace pack-bonds. Even less so because we're both human. Besides, this whole situation got more complicated now that there's more wolves, and that Isaac has been… spending less and less time with the McCall Pack too. There's been a gradual shift. And four beta wolves and three humans can't be Alpha-less."

It took him a moment to realize Stiles was counting Boyd and Erica to their pack. The two betas looked as surprised as Chris felt at that. They had been staying here for weeks now, without wanting to leave, have been strengthening their bonds with Isaac and Stiles, but also growing new bonds with Peter, Chris and Noah. And Isaac really had been spending less and less time with the McCall Pack and more time here, particularly since Boyd and Erica arrived. They… had, somehow, become a pack. And An actual pack, not just Peter at the fringe of a pack.

"We're not staying in Beacon Hills," Erica exchanged a look with Boyd before turning to Stiles. "I… you are right, we have been… reviving our pack-bonds with you and Isaac. And we like staying here, in your home, but we can't just stay in this house forever, and I'm absolutely not ready to face this hell-town and see whatever tries to kill us next."

"Erica is right," Boyd took his mate's hand, squeezing it gently. "This… This is the most like a pack that we've felt since we left but… this town is… bad news."

Stiles frowned at them and Chris held his breath. He didn't want their boy to lose anyone else, even if it was 'just' through them leaving town, especially now that Stiles considered them pack. This could be a major set-back for Stiles and Chris found himself reaching out for Peter for support.

"We're not staying in Beacon Hills," Stiles declared, like it was a done deal.

"I'm sorry," Noah grunted and stared at his son.

Tilting his head, Stiles regarded his dad. "This town keeps taking things from us. The reason I haven't left this house yet is because everything in this town reminds me of things I lost. I can't go to school, because all I can think about is how things used to be, when Jackson was still here, Boyd and Erica were still here, when Derek and Cora were still here, when A… when Allison was alive. The thought of ever entering the sheriff station again terrifies me, because I tried to blow it up, I killed so many people on the force, people I've known all my life, and even before that, when Matt attacked the station? People… People keep dying in this damn town."

Stiles paused, breathing labored, thumbs forcefully tapping against his fingers. "I found your application for early retirement a month ago, dad. You're tired too. I think… I think it's time to leave. Before this town kills us all."

Turning his head, Stiles looked at Peter and Chris with breathtakingly soft eyes. "I know I'm the only reason you're both still here. I know Peter wanted to leave when Derek and Cora did. But he couldn't, because of me and Chris, and Chris couldn't because of… of… Allison. And I know Chris has been ready to leave this town for a while now, but now he can't because of me either. And now Boyd and Erica are here and they keep not leaving because of me, even though they don't want to be here and I don't… I don't want to be the reason why the people I love are stuck in this town that's killing everyone. And I don't want to be here anymore either."

"Where do you want to go, kiddo?" Noah asked, sounding both excited and defeated somehow.

Tilting his head to the side, Stiles offered the smallest grin. "Well, there's three other wayward Hale Pack members across the ocean and Jackson says they got some spare-rooms left."

"London," Isaac raised his eyebrows high. "You want us to move to London. All of us?"

He sounded tentative at that last question, nearly small. Stiles reached out for him, resting a hand on Isaac's knee and giving it a gentle squeeze while smiling at him.

"You and me both have been… shifting alliances for a while now," Stiles whispered. "And that isn't about Scott. Or his pack. It's about us, and what we need to heal. And I think… we need this. We need something that makes us happy and feel like living again. Our pack does that. Right?"

Isaac blinked away tears as he nodded in a jerky motion. "This is the first time I feel like part of a family since… since my mom and brother died… I don't… want to lose this."

Chris couldn't help but wrap an arm around Isaac's shoulders, pulling him close. The kid took a shuttering breath and relaxed against him. Weird-ass family, but he was right. That was what they were. Silence stretched on as everyone digested what Stiles had said. Stiles took the time to calm himself down. Speaking a lot still took a toll on him, left him shaky.

"Christopher," Peter spoke evenly as he got up. "Get your gun. We have work to do."

Stiles straightened up and smiled at Peter so blindingly, it took Chris' breath away. And then the boy jumped up to follow, because he'd made them promise to take him along. What did surprise Chris though was the way Isaac, Boyd and Erica also got up.

"What?" Boyd grunted. "If we're going to be a proper pack, you gotta get used to us not letting you run off into danger alone. Pack's supposed to stick together, right?"

"Besides, four wolves seem more effective at hunting down and weakening one Alpha," Erica offered with a wicked grin, flexing her claws and flashing her eyes. "Sounds safer."

"And someone has to keep Stiles safe," Isaac tagged on with a concerned look. "No offense, but-"

"Some offense taken," Stiles glowered at him. "The best way to take out a rogue Alpha is to trap them in mountain ash so they can't escape before you get them."

"That's true," Peter hummed appreciatively. "So we're going to rob the vet first?"

The grin on Stiles' lip was dangerous and strangely thrilling as he lifted one hand and curled his fingers together into a fist. When he opened his fist, there was a gray powder in his hand.

"No, we're good," Stiles actually giggled. "Oh. Oh, I forgot. It tickles."

"It tickles? What tickles? How… How did you…?" Chris stared stunned.

Shrugging, Stiles pushed his hands in his pants. "Magic. I don't have a lot of it, but some. Enough to summon mountain ash at will. But… I… haven't really used my magic since… I forgot that it tickles in my soul to use my magic."

"Aren't you full of surprises, doll," Chris shook his head baffled.

"Bring more wolfsbane bullets," Noah called out with a heavy sigh. "I am not letting you lot drive to Silver Lake to hunt a feral Alpha on your own. Besides, someone has to drive a second car, unless you want to take a clown-car there."

Once Chris and Noah were sufficiently armed, they packed water bottles and some sandwiches – it was a two hour drive and they'd have to get back after too, plus, werewolves tended to be hungry after a kill – and then filed out into the cars. Chris was surprised to see Boyd, Erica and Isaac all get into the Jeep with Noah, like there was no question about it. Stiles and Chris got into Peter's car, sitting in the back together. After a while, Stiles started to lean into Chris.

"I think it's time we talk about this," Peter announced half an hour into the drive. "And now, without curious werewolf ears perked in another room of the house, is as good a time as any."

"Mh," Stiles hummed but didn't speak, waiting.

"You said our mate-bonds," Chris whispered, tightening his arm around Stiles' waist.

"Mh," Stiles tilted his head enough to look at him. "I do have enough magic to feel bonds. Pack-bonds and mate-bonds. That's kind of the main reason why I… made these plans. Because I can feel the thrumming magic of the pack-bonds we all have been forming and I know what'll happen if we don't find an Alpha to balance them out."

"How did I not know that you had magic," Peter shook his head.

"Never advertised it," Stiles shrugged. "But now it's needed, so."

"How… How long have you… felt this mate-bond with Peter?" Chris asked gently.

"Bonds," Stiles corrected with a frown, looking at him pointed. "With you both."

"Oh," Chris' voice broke, unsure what to do with this.

"I don't… know," Stiles sighed. "Honestly, at first I didn't know what it was, since I never felt something like this. I figured it might be the pack-bonds, just… strengthening? But ever since Boyd and Erica joined, I… the difference in the bonds I have with you and Peter, compared to the bonds with all three, Isaac, Erica and Boyd, is too strong to dismiss. When there was just Isaac, I thought it may be because of all you two have been doing for me and that's it. But… they are mate-bonds."

He looked at Peter at that, like he was looking for confirmation. "They are. Though, I'll admit, I am surprised the two of you have one. Again, did not know you had magic."

A lazy grin spread over Stiles' lips. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Zombiewolf."

Peter gave a startled laugh at that, shaking his head. "Damn, I love you, sweetheart."

Both Stiles and Chris stilled at the confession. Stiles buried himself a little more in Chris.

"I love you too," Stiles whispered, before looking at Chris. "Both of you."

"I…" Chris cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I love you too, doll."

"I don't… know if I'd still be here without you," Stiles admitted after a moment, frowning. "I didn't know how to come back from… this. All of it. The possession, losing A… Allison, being the one who killed her… that was just… too much… I… I thought you'd hate me for it, Chris. The first time you came to my room, I… was sure you came to kill me, make sure the Nogitsune can never take me over again, and I… was hoping you would…"

Chris sucked in a breath, hugging Stiles even tighter, but not interrupting. There was no point to argue. Stiles was telling him how he had felt in the past, there was no changing past feelings.

"I didn't understand why you cared," Stiles continued after a moment. "When you first said that you had to keep me safe because Allison died for me, I was kind of relieved, because… because I understood that? You caring by proxy of her having cared for me. A… And it… it helped me start caring again too, b… because I started thinking about the things she would never get to do and how I was… wasting this second chance that she helped give me. It helped me push myself and keep going when I didn't know what else could, before I… started caring again…"

"It was a crutch," Chris supplied with a short nod.

"It was a crutch," Stiles echoed with a small smile. "Thanks for giving me a crutch until I could walk on my own again. Though I would… prefer to not walk on my own."

"Sweetheart, if we get any say in the matter, you will never be alone again," Peter promised.

/break\

Killing the Alpha was easier than anticipated, but then they had two expert shots, four werewolves and a magic-user who could provide an endless supply of mountain ash. The Alpha stood no chance. Chris was not ashamed of the arousal that the betas could smell from him the first time Peter flashed his Alpha red eyes at them with a wicked grin. The way Stiles gripped his hand told him he wasn't alone in that, at least.

The sheriff filed for early retirement. They sold the Stilinski house. Packed up all their belongings. Had the Jeep shipped to London. There were some tearful goodbyes between Stiles, Isaac and the McCall Pack, Stiles and Scott hugged for nearly half an hour, apologizing to each other. It hurt, but Scott understood that it was the right thing for the both of them. And then they were on the next flight to London, leaving this cursed town behind them for good.

"Welcome home," Derek greeted them with a small smile as he opened the door to the Hale Estate in London. "Took you long enough to get here."

He looked at his uncle, both Hales flashing their eyes at each other before Derek bared his throat in submission. Peter made a pleased noise as he officially accepted his nephew into his pack. There was even hugging. More hugging once Cora and Jackson came running downstairs.

"I'm glad you're here, Stilinski," Jackson muttered into Stiles' shoulder, hugging him tight.

"Yeah," Stiles' voice cracked as he clung onto the other boy. "Me too, Jacks."

"So, this is it, then," Cora looked around – looked at Derek, Jackson, Stiles, Peter, Chris, Noah, Erica, Boyd and Isaac. "This is the new Hale Pack?"

There was something like awe in her voice at getting something back that she thought she had lost forever. Peter stepped up to his niece and laid an arm around her, pulling her into a half-hug, with Derek on his other side. The three of them had lost everything and clawed their way back. No. Chris' own eyes wandered. To Isaac, who'd lost his entire family and been abused by his father before the man's death. To Boyd, who'd lost his little sister too young and had run away from home because it hadn't felt like home since her death because it hung over the family like a Damocles sword. To Erica whose medical condition had isolated her for so long and left her parents so overbearingly protective that she had felt suffocated enough to run away. To Noah, who had lost his wife and then lost himself in alcohol for years and nearly had lost his son now. And in the end, his eyes settled on Stiles. He pulled his mate close enough to kiss the top of his head.

"Yeah," Chris whispered. "This is the new Hale Pack. And it's a damn good pack."

/break\

They'd been living in London for about a month when Peter, Chris and Stiles went out to a little bakery around the corner that Peter had discovered in their first week here and was absolutely smitten with. It was Stiles' eighteenth birthday and though the pack was already decorating for the big party, Peter and Chris wanted some time alone with their mate. It was easier for Stiles, leaving the house, here in London. Because there were no memories haunting him here. No, every corner of this city only held the possibility for new memories, happy memories.

Stiles blew out the candle on the birthday cake they'd ordered, grinning at them. Looking genuinely carefree for the first time in too many months. He leaned over to Chris after, and before Chris could wonder what their boy was doing, soft lips pressed against his own. Chris didn't get a chance to react before they retreated though, Stiles moving to lean in and also kiss Peter.

"Happy birthday to me," Stiles grinned cheekily.

Oh. Right. Stiles had just turned eighteen, hadn't he? Chris exchanged a look with Peter, who looked absolutely smitten and delighted. Chris smiled amused. They were on the right track.

~*~ The End ~*~

#Stetopher #Post Nogitsune #Hurt/Comfort #Peter Hale #Chris Argent #Stiles Stilinski #Teen Wolf #Stiles Summer Stories 2024 #Phoe's Fics

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