Chapter Text
The game was a blow out, Beacon Hills crushing the opposing school in a devastating 14 – 0 game, with one of the other teams players walking away with a bruised pride and a twisted ankle after Jackson body checked him into submission for striking Danny in the goal with his Crosse for no reason other than he felt he could. Stiles flinched with the contact, knowing that the blow to Danny’s midsection would have had him down for the count, but the senior was pulled to his feet by Scott and Isaac and back to playing like nothing had happened. Danny didn’t really look it, but apparently he was a lot tougher than Stiles initially gave him credit for. The brunette almost felt bad for the other player as the crowd watched him limp off the field with the aid of his coach and the athletic trainer.
Cora was a riot to watch, her natural grace and athleticism made her cheering all that much more alluring to watch compared to the other airheads on the cheering squad. While he found a chuckle or two bubbling out of him when a junior girl continually made a face plant on the track when trying to do a cartwheel, or the blonde girl on the end who didn’t seem to be able to take a step without tripping over her own feet, he continually found his gaze drawn back to Cora when he wasn’t actively watching the game.
“She’s great, isn’t she?” Startling, Stiles turned his head to stare blankly at Derek, his mind buzzing trying to figure out when the officer had sat down and how he hadn’t notice. Was he that focused on the game?
“Um… well,” he stammered. Heart racing, Stiles starred fearfully up at the older man, contemplating his answer carefully without trying to upset the officer. He didn’t want Derek thinking he was checking out his sister and he also didn’t want Derek to take his lack of interest the wrong way either. Cora was a gorgeous girl, there was no doubt about it—Lydia and Alison were also exquisite in their own right—but he just didn’t find them appealing. He’d kept that secret close to the vest and he’d be damned if he’d allow someone he barely knows to find out a new way to torment him.
He wasn’t proud of it, being gay. His Uncle Mike would always rant and rave about some freak that was wasting his time, calling 911 for helping after being beaten outside a gay bar, and then growl in annoyance, commenting that he was an insect that deserved to be squished; an ant and a boot situation. He’d kept his mouth shut, kept his eyes down and told himself over and over that there was something wrong with him for finding someone of the same sex appealing. Derek was a prime example, gorgeous in every way possible, and there was no way he’d ever tell the older man he found him attractive out of fear of the repercussions.
“Hey, it’s fine. She likes the attention,” his smile was infectious. “I think the whole purpose of those uniforms is go get everyone attention.” His warm hand came up to rub comfortingly at the back of Stiles neck, strong fingers scratching perfectly at his short hairs and massaging into his tense muscles.
Lydia turned from her animated conversation with Alison and flashed the officer a smile that made something deep inside Stiles’ stomach squirm. Even Alison regarded him in kind, nodding her head to him before turning to say something to her father who was asking questions about the game. “Will you be making an appearance tonight at Jackson’s tonight, Derek?”
Leaning forward, the officer narrowed his eyes at the seemingly unaffected girl, her posture remaining unfazed by his hard look and shrugging her should in an so what attitude. “Do I need to be there?” It was a warning if Stiles had ever heard one, but it was weird hearing the officer try to intimidate Lydia who was normally an immovable force of nature.
Lydia merely flipped her long hair over her shoulder, and shrugged. Stiles felt awkward sitting between the two, eyes shifting from one to the other in an attempt to understand what was going on. Derek sat back after a long moment, his eyes calculating and returning to the field in time to see Jackson score. The timer ran down, they were out of time and Beacon Hills won.
Stiles didn’t even need to ask John if he could go to Jacksons party, the man already giving his blessing with a simple wave of his hand as he followed Alison’s parents out to the parking lot, discussing graduation plans the two had for their daughter. Derek gave his neck a gentle squeeze that settled down deep in his muscles, relaxing Stiles’ nerves and said he catch up with them later. Suddenly, Stiles found himself in the back seat of Lydia’s car with Alison tuning the radio to some song he’d never heard and crowing over their victory.
Apparently rival matches were a big thing in Beacon Hills.
They arrived at Jackson’s first and set about getting drinks ready and laying out the snacks Lydia had ordered earlier that afternoon. Still full from his dinner beforehand, the brunette wondered how Lydia was already munching on Doritos and little fried mac n’ cheese balls while setting everything out. Even Alison was taking hearty bites of a piece of pizza Lydia had given her, moaning appreciatively of the explosion of the sweet pineapple pieces topping it.
“People should be arriving any moment,” Lydia said in passing, her eyes tracking over everything they had set out, cataloging every detail in her head. Cups were set up by the refrigerator where they had stored a bunch of cans of pop inside to chill, plates were set out, and Alison was in the living room turning on the stereo, cranking up the volume slightly to the same station the two girls were listening to in the car.
“You going swimming, Alison?” Lydia called out while moving to slide open the French doors that led out to the large deck in the back yard.
Stretching to see outside from his perch at the breakfast bar, Stiles noted instantly the large in ground pool just off the deck and the large hot tub settled in the corner of the massive wooden deck. Not only was Jackson’s house huge, but the property it sat on was far superior that Stiles had initially gauged.
Startled out of his thoughts by the doorbell ringing, Stiles slide from the stool to his feet at Alison’s request for him to answer the door. He didn’t question why they both ran upstairs, giggling and pushing each other, but he was startled by the large mass of students from his school standing outside on the front porch.
“Party!” Someone whooped and held up a 12-pack. Pushing past Stiles they all filed into the foyer, making beelines towards the kitchen for snacks or the living room to turn up the stereo. Some dropped jackets or purses into his arms while he stood there dumbfounded, unsure if he was supposed to ask them to remove their shoes too like they had once stepping inside the house.
A trail of a few more of his classmates filed in, following suit of the others and piling more jackets into Stiles’ already full arms. He grunts under the pressure, suddenly unsure where to put them when a gentle hand comes down on his shoulder, dragging his attention from a girl adding her purse to the pile back towards Alison in a tasteful bikini top and a pair of cutoff shorts that matched. She grabbed an armful of the pile from Stiles and motioned for him to follow her upstairs to a spare bedroom. They laid out everyone’s things on the large bed and made their way back downstairs to find that more students had piled in and that the driveway and street were littered with cars.
The lacrosse team hadn’t arrived yet, but Stiles could easily bet that there were over fifty kids from their school milling about the house and splashing in the pool. It made him wonder if Lydia had bought enough snacks to feed everyone.
“Stiles!” An arm snaked around his shoulders, pulling him against Cora in a tight sideways hug as she led them upstairs.
“Some party,” he smiled shyly. Stiles eyed the Victoria Secrets bag the younger Hale had slung over her opposite shoulder but continued to follow her.
Cora’s responding smile was infectious. “Usually is, Jackson and Lydia throw amazing parties. Come on,” she whispered while pulling Stiles into the upstairs bathroom.
He tripped over his own two feet, toppling into the counter and catching himself before his face met he floor. Cora giggled to herself and set her bag on the counter, digging around in its contents before pulling out a two-piece swimsuit and a pair of athletic shorts with the Beacon Hills mascot embossed on the left leg. She continued to root around until a pair of navy blue swim trunks came out.
“Here,” she pushed the material into his chest. “These are my little cousin’s old ones from way back when, mom thought they’d fit you. They should fit you better than Jackson’s stuff.” Blushing, Stiles glanced down to stare at the large fitting shirt hanging off his body and the too-big jeans Lydia had found from Jackson’s sophomore year in the back of his closet.
“Thank—Cora!” Hiding his face in the material of the swim trunks, his face heating up and probably beat red, he turned and made a bolt for the door. Stopping short when Cora’s hand shot out to snag the back of Jackson’s shirt, he stood perfectly still and didn’t dare glance in the mirror in fear of seeing Cora who had already slipped out of her cheer top, long dark hard spilling over her shoulder and barely covering her sports bra. “I’ll wait outside.”
“It’s fine, Stiles, just get changed.” Her fingers flexed in the shirt before withdrawing and leaving Stiles standing awkwardly there with the shorts clutched to his chest. Behind him he could hear the rustle of her cheer fabric over the thrum of the stereo in the living room, the fabric sounding louder in his ears when it hit the floor. “You going to get changed?”
As long as he kept his eyes down he could survive this, so long as no one else found out. Heart thundering in his chest he slowly started to peel his socks off, wondering if Cora could actually hear his heart beating. Tentatively grasping the hem of his borrowed shirt, Stiles bit his lip and chanced a glance up to see Cora curiously watching him in nothing but her underwear and sports bra. She could clearly see him looking at her in the mirror and didn’t seem to mind, only stepping out of her skirt and slipping her fingers in the waistband of her boy shorts.
“Cora,” his voice sounded weird in his own ears. Why he couldn’t just go change in Jackson’s room was beyond him. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask if he could, he could only stare blankly at his friend standing behind him with a slight frown to her face.
“Yes, Stiles?”
“Okay, just… don’t look.” A pained look crossed Cora’s face before she nodded and continued to get dressed, minding her own business and not once glancing towards Stiles. Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his fingers carefully slipped the baggy jeans off his narrow hips.
He folded Jackson’s jeans neatly and set them on the counter and tucked his ratty boxers underneath, hiding them from Cora’s straying eyes after he’d slipped into the fitted trunks. It felt good to be in something that actually fit, to have the fabric not just hang off his body but to lay perfectly against his skinny frame. He kept Jackson’s shirt on, not daring to remove it and have everyone see all his scars, it was bad enough they could see the tail end of a scar on the back of his right thigh that never healed quite right, but he didn’t have to subject everyone to the mess that was the rest of his body.
“Can you help me?” Turning to look at Cora, he blanched at the bikini top Cora was going to wear. “If you could knot them that would be fantastic.”
Once satisfied that his two ties wouldn’t come undone a knock on the bathroom door, startling the two occupants inside. “Hey, some of us have to pee!” Gathering their things, Stiles followed Cora out and passed an annoyed looking girl who just seemed to glare at them before she darted in and closed the door with a slam.
“I think she had to pee,” Cora laughed. Stiles even felt a small chuckle bubble up from his chest at the girls’ antics. They stored their stuff in Jackson’s closet before making their way down the stairs to see that the lacrosse team had finally made its arrival, Jackson and Scott being carried on the teams shoulders while parading around the house.
Cora rolled her eyes. Grabbing his hand, she led Stiles through the house until the two of them found Allison and Lydia in the kitchen, sipping on something red from the large punch bowl by the refrigerator. Sparing a second glance at the bowl Stiles noted how there appeared to be large clumps of orange, pink and green sherbet from the container he’d seen in the freezer and there was two empty bottles of vodka pushed to the back of the counter, hidden in the dark corner between the backsplash tile and the stainless steel refrigerator. If the dilated pupils in both Lydia’s and Allison’s eyes and the faint blush to their cheeks was anything to go by, he was betting that the missing alcohol made its way into the bowl.
Cora accepted a solo cup from Lydia and swallowed back at least half before choking. She laughed, a little bit of the punch dribbling from the corner of her mouth, making a wet trail down her jaw, sloping down her neck to finally be absorbed into the material of her bikini top. Using her finger to wipe away the remaining punch from her skin, she reached for the other offered cup from Lydia and handed it to Stiles.
“Drink up, Stiles,” Allison crowd. She pumped her hand with her cup in it into the air. “We won!”
“Hell yeah!” Lydia mimicked her actions, thrusting her cup hand in the air clinking their two plastic cups together.
“Come on, Stiles.” Cora smiled, her own cup joining in the cluster.
Biting his lower lip, he peered down into the cup, eyeing the unassuming clump of green sherbet floating at the top. He swirled the liquid inside, the green clump moving in a circle with the motion of his hand, still inconspicuous and frankly tasty looking. It was so unassuming, so innocent looking, that if he hadn’t noticed the signs he probably would have knocked back half the drink like Cora had.
The thought of drinking it made his stomach harden and the sickly sweet smell of the punch made him nauseous. The tell tale tickle burning in the back of his throat put a bad taste in his mouth, making it a very real chance that he may vomit the moment he brings the lip of the cup to his mouth. I can’t drink this. “Yeah,” he smiled carefully.
Raising his glass with a little more enthusiasm in his thrust than he actually had, their four cups made a hallow sound before they each swallowed down a large gulp. The moment the cup came up to his face the pungent stench of the Vodka made his head swim. He knew this smell, had smelled it for as long as he could remember as his Uncle Mike preferred to drink straight from the bottle, and the combination of the Vodka with the fruity smell of the punch and sherbet made him want to vomit all that much more. Glancing around his cup, he took fast notice how the three girls were already laughing, Allison handing off of Cora’s shoulder and Lydia’s face getting redder by the drink. Tucking his cup in the hiding space next to the two empty bottles on the counter, he smiled and followed the three out onto the deck.
~*~*~
Stiles had been sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling over the deep end watching his friends play a hearty game of chicken while nursing a bottle of water between his fingers. It was nearing two in the morning and a good majority of the students had already left for home, or better things at another party once the alcohol had been consumed. Two black trash bags were the remnants of the cans and glass bottles lay tucked behind the trash bins in the garage, the evidence of the underage drinking that the students participated in.
A splash to the edge of the pool drew his attention from the rippling pool water back up to the game. A majority of the players had already been knocked out, the only two teams remaining were Jackson and Lydia—there was no doubt in his mind that when the game started those two would be one of the two remaining teams—and Scott and Allison. It was surprising that Allison was able to stay on Scott’s shoulders; her movements had become less coordinated with every drink she knocked back. Lydia seemed to be holding her liquor well, although she switched to water around eleven o’clock.
Scott and Jackson were growling at each other. There really wasn’t any other word for it. His old neighbor had a Rottweiler that growled they are any time someone so much as looked at his yard. There were even a few instances when a stray cat would venture close enough to the fence to cause the growling to morph into snarling, matching the tones Scott and Jackson were making. Lydia and Allison were too busy laughing and grunting to notice the growl fest happening below them, hands dueling in the air in a desperate attempt to finally end the game, knocking the other team over and into the water.
“So, who is winning?” Startling violently, Stiles jumped when Derek sat down next to him on the side of the pool. The water bottle previously held in his hands now lay at the bottom of he pool. What was even more startling was the warm fleece the officer had loaned him a few weeks ago was now wrapped around his shoulders, warming the teen’s body. “My money is on Jackson and Lydia again.”
“Again?” Stiles asked once he found his voice again. His hands fisted themselves in the warm fabric, warming his chilled fingers with the simple caress of the fabric against his skin. God, he loved this jacket.
Derek hummed in acknowledgement; his eyes alight with laughter as he watched the game. “Last time Scott broke his nose on the edge of the pool. Lydia and Jackson won by default.”
Stiles winced and looked back out to the match. Lydia was clearly waning in strength, her shoves had less power behind them and the way Jackson’s muscles were bulging to just keep his girlfriend up on his shoulders were another clear indicator she was tiring while Allison just looked slightly out of breath. “Who do you think is going to win?” Looking back to Derek, the teen was startled to see the older man looking at him with a certain look in his eyes.
He took a moment to answer, Stiles question rattling around in his head before he opened his mouth and a deadly smile playing on his lips. “Jackson and Lydia, of course.” Derek didn’t look away from Stiles’ face to know that the pair was going to win.
“How do you—“
“Damn it!” Allison screeched loudly as she and Scott fell back in the water. The splash drowned out the rest of her scream, swallowing it whole as the two sputtered to the surface in a flurry. “Scott, we nearly had them this time!” She smacked his shoulder and started swimming towards the ladder.
Scott shook his sopping wet hair back and out of his face. Glaring at Jackson and Lydia who were too busy taking a victory lap around the shallow end of the pool, his hands appeared to be busy under the water, rubbing between his legs. “How did you know?”
“Game before last, Jackson kneed Scott in the groin.” Stiles winced; having no doubt in his mind that Jackson’s dirty trick would leave the teen with a seriously bruised pride and genitalia. Jackson didn’t appear to be someone who would hold back even for a cheap shot such as that. “He’ll be fine, Allison will see to it.”
Stiles wasn’t sure how Allison was going to help Scott with a bruise. Maybe some ice and some anti-inflammatory agents, but other than that Stiles was clueless as to how she was supposed to help. Maybe it was a sex joke? Stiles didn’t understand those any better.
The party died down once everyone climbed out of the pool and realized that all the snacks Lydia had prepared were gone. Stiles retreated to Jackson’s room to change into his own ratty clothes from school the previous day while Cora and Isaac snacked on the last two pieces of pizza. Thanking Jackson for the clothes and Lydia for everything else, he followed the three Hales out to Derek’s sleek black Camaro. Cora and Isaac clambered into the back, yawning and curling into the side of the car to rest their heads.
Stiles sat in the front, hugging his school bag to his chest and feeling wide-awake. Derek smiled and patted his knee. “Enjoy yourself?”
Nodding, Stiles bit his bottom lip suddenly conscious that Derek sole attention was on him rather than pestering his siblings on the events of the party. “It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“I’m not good with large parties.” He wanted to say any kind of human interaction, but Beacon Hills seemed to be different. The students were nicer, save for a few bad eggs, he actually managed to make a few friends, and even met some really nice adults who took a notice in him, caring enough to do more than a simple phone call to children’s services. Stiles watched Derek nod out of the corner of his eye.
“It’s good you went though,” Derek rolled to a stop outside his uncle’s house. “We like seeing you smile. John’s asleep already, but he said to tell you that the back door is unlocked. Good night, Stiles.”
“Good night, Derek, and thank you for the ride.” Moving to take off the incredibly warm fleece, he paused when Derek’s large hand covered his own, halting all efforts of removing the jacket. “Der—“
“Just hang onto it for me for a while, okay?” They starred at each other for a long moment, neither moving away nor drawing closer. “It looks good on you.”
Nodding jerkily, Stiles pulled away and smiled at the officer. “Thanks again Derek.” Walking briskly up the driveway, Stiles paused and smiled over his shoulder to see Derek wave at him for a moment before pulling out and driving down the street. He timidly returned the gesture.
Rounding the back of the house, a sudden chill ran down the teen spine when a growl lifted to his ears from the dark depths of the backyard. Swallowing down the thick lump in his throat, he bolted for the back door and pulled with more force than necessary. The back door flew open, banging loudly against the mudroom wall, and closed with just as much force from the hearty slam Stiles bestowed upon it. Locking the lock and the deadbolt, Stiles slid to the floor and tucked his knees to his chest. Outside he could hear the familiar scrape of large paws against the wood grain of his Uncle John’s hardwood deck and the same growl.
“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,” he repeated quietly. Hands up covering his ears and his eyes screwed shut; Stiles braced himself for the animal to rattle the door in an attempt to get in.
“Stiles?” Startling, jerking back and hitting his head against the door, Stiles starred fearfully up at John. There was no doubt the man and been awakened by the slam of the door against the mudroom wall, his sleep pants and white tee shirt were still sleep creased, hair fluffed up in a cowlick on the side of his head where he rested against the pillow, and his eyes were still a little red. “Hey, kiddo, you okay?”
Tensing, pressing himself into the door and curling away from John as he crouched down next to Stiles, he couldn’t help but allow a small whimper escape from his lips. “I’m sorry!”
“No, hey, it’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.” Pulling the distressed teen so he was cradled against his chest, John wrapped his arms around the boy and just held him against the tremors that wrecked his body. “Shh, buddy, it’s okay.”
Outside the door, the scraping continued and a soft growl could be heard over Stiles’ little broken sobs, drawing Chief Stilinski’s attention from his nephew to what was going on outside his back door. A responding growl rumbled in deep in his chest, warning off the intruder that dared to step to his den. Once he was sure the creature on the other side of the door was gone, John loosened his hold around Stiles shaking form.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped against the grain in his throat.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now, Stiles.”
It took a while to coax Stiles up to his room, and it took even more time to convince the teen that the pinched look on John’s face wasn’t due to being woken up at four in the morning. Torn between wanting to settle his distressed nephew and tear out the backdoor, searching for the creature that dared step to his house, John settled on staying to make sure Stiles didn’t have another panic attack. He was already sucking down large gulps of air, his chest heaving with the effort to supply oxygen to his body. Stiles would wear himself out doing that, he did before last time he had a panic attack in front of his uncle. Then, John wasn’t really sure what to do and even now he still wasn’t sure.
Derek knew how to handle this. Knew how to get Stiles to focus on him rather than the crippling fear that seemed to take hold of his mind. No matter what John did, he knew he wasn’t helping. The gentle pats to the kids back didn’t even gain a reaction and pulling him closer to his body only seemed to make this worse. Running a tired hand through his hair, John settled his other on the back of his nephews neck and tried to focus. They could siphon pain, maybe he could take away some of Stiles fear.
“It’s okay buddy, it’ll be okay.”