Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"So..." Stiles drawled, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked Derek up and down. Narrowing his eyes a tiny bit, he tacked on, "Just gonna take a wild guess and say you're the one who left me that hat on my desk."

Derek just continued blinking up at Stiles, looking uncannily like a deer in the headlights. It was a bit odd, really, seeing the big bad alpha werewolf look like timid prey.

The half finished scarf sat innocuously in his lap, a long strip of starkly contrasting blue and orange in a soft looking coil. His knitting needles were still in his hands, his fingers twitching nervously around them.

There were two bundles of yarn at his feet, resting in a woven basket set underneath his chair. An extra pair of knitting needles was lying in the basket, too, along with an instruction book for beginning knitters.

Derek didn't say a single word as per his usual MO, instead opting for shocked silence as his cheeks flushed with color. Stiles had always wondered if Derek ever blushed, his inquiry confirmed by the embarrassed red at the tips of the alpha's ears.

Fortunately, Stiles had always been more than willing to talk enough for the both of them. Resting his hip against the door jamb, Stiles nodded his chin to indicate the unfinished scarf, noting aloud, “Matches the hat.”

Derek didn't answer, not verbally at least. Instead, he just gave a curt nod of his head and swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“Thought you didn't like blue and orange together,” Stiles commented, cocking a suspicious brow at Derek. Shifting his weight to get more comfortable, he pressed, “Any reason for the change of heart?”

He didn't expect Derek to say anything, anticipating another brusque nod or blank stare. But to his surprise, and Derek's own, the werewolf spoke up, claiming, “You like it.”

It was Stiles’ turn to blink in surprise, his own face heating as his cheeks abruptly went red and blotchy. The sudden blush made him feel a bit itchy, forcing him to fight the urge to scratch his face or squirm like a worm on a hook.

He bit his lip and looked down at his feet, scuffing his toe against the concrete floor of the loft. Still averting his gaze, he softly asked, “Did you learn to knit for me?”

“Yes,” Derek answered so quietly that Stiles could barely hear him. He waited patiently for Derek to continue, flicking his eyes up to meet Derek's again. “You said your mom used to knit. I thought you might like some new things.”

Silence reigned for a moment. Then Stiles broke it by announcing, “You're the best boyfriend ever.”

Without another word, Stiles dropped his bag in the doorway and bounded across the room to plop down on Derek's lap, careful not to disturb the scarf or the yarn. Looping his arms around Derek's neck, he announced, “You need a hat with wolf ears.”

Chapter Text

“Mmm… Something smells good,” Stiles announced as he strolled into the kitchen, running a hand through his messy hair. Their puppy, Mille, galloped after him into the room, skidding to a hasty stop at his feet, nearly colliding with the back of his legs.

Derek looked up from the griddle, a plastic spatula in his right hand. He smiled widely at his fiance, who was yawning, and succinctly explained, “Thought you might like some chocolate chip pancakes to celebrate your day off.”

“You would be right,” Stiles claimed with a beaming grin, his stomach rumbling in anticipation as the smell of chocolate and freshly brewed coffee hit his nose. He took a couple more steps into the kitchen, Mille following him like a lost duckling that had imprinted on him.

She did end up bumping into his leg when he stopped beside the kitchen island, resting his hip against it.Chuckling, he reached down to scratch under the puppy’s chin, bending over to kiss the spot of white on her forehead.

Straightening up, he crossed the room to the pantry, opening it and rifling around for the bag of dog food. Mille danced around his ankles, yipping in excitement when she heard the sound of Stiles scooping up some food.

She followed him over to her food bowl, tail wagging as she skipped around, still barking. As Stiles filled her bowl, he addressed Derek, “Maybe we could take her for a walk later. She could use the exercise.”

He smirked as he wandered over to Derek's side, joking, “And she always gets me plenty of phone numbers.”

“Wow. Really, babe? Using our puppy to pick up cougars in the park?” Derek tsk-ed, shaking his head in disapproval as he pursed his lips. Stiles had to hand it to him, he really did have the disappointed dad look down pat. It would definitely come in handy when they had kids.

“Yup,” Stiles answered cheekily, laying his head on Derek's shoulder and coyly batting his eyelashes. “You don't mind, right?”

Derek set down his spatula on the counter and turned down the heat on the stove. A moment later, he had Stiles in his arms, spinning him around a few times before setting him on and counter.

He braced his palms on the counter on either side of Stiles’ hips, leaning in close to bump their noses together. Pressing his forehead against Stiles’, he murmured, “Guess again. Something like that deserves punishment.”

“Oh my god, please tell me you're gonna spank me,” Stiles blurted, setting his hands on Derek's bare chest, drawing circles with his thumbs. His face was flushed from laughing so hard when Derek spun him around, his pale face blotchy and red.

But Derek just shook his head, a devious smirk curling his lips that were just out of Stiles’ reach. He leaned in close, as though he was going to kiss Stiles, but just before their lips could meet, he declared, “No bacon for you.”

“Aww, come on!”

Chapter Text

“So, what are you doing your essay on?” Stiles asked from his position sprawled out on Derek's bed, lying on his belly as he stared at his computer screen. He had a pillow propped under his chest, keeping his back from aching due to the awkward angle as he typed his own college admission letter.

He had been assigned a topic by his choice of school, a fact he had lamented since the randomly selected topic arrived in his inbox. He always did much better work when he had free reign over what he was writing about.

Coach Finstock might have disagreed. But that didn't matter, Stiles was still very proud of his paper on the history of circumcision.

Besides, he hadn't gone that far off topic with his economics paper. They were supposed to write about Wall Street in general and it is a well-known fact that nearly everyone on Wall Street is a giant dick. It wasn't that far a jump to circumcision.

His penis centered musings were cut short when Derek answered him. Sitting on the floor with his back resting against the bed, Derek had his laptop in his lap as he typed. Without looking up, he simply said, “Hope.”

“Hope?” Stiles repeated incredulously, gawking at Derek who just kept ignoring him. Groaning, he flopped over onto his back and let his head hang off the edge of the bed as he whined, “Dude, you got to pick and that's what you choose. Lame!”

“It's not lame,” Derek insisted, sparing a glance over at Stiles who was still gaping at him. Turning back to his laptop, he explained, “It's inspirational. And optimistic, something you're not familiar with.”

“Your nickname is literally sourwolf, dude,” Stiles reminded him, smiling proudly at having been the first to dub Derek with the name. Once the rest of the pack had heard about it, they used it constantly, even Boyd joining in on the teasing.

“Meanwhile,” Stiles continued, sucking in a deep breath. “I happen to be the sarcastic ray of sunshine that brightens up your life, o’ mighty alpha.”

“Shut up,” Derek answered eloquently, rolling his eyes at Stiles’ obnoxious behavior. He wasn't willing to admit that Stiles was right.

“So…” Stiles droned, trying to sneak a peek at what Derek had already written, “You writing about how hope is what pushes the caterpillar out of the cocoon or something.”

“Chrysalis,” Derek corrected, “And no. I'm writing about small, everyday instances of hope.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Stiles pressed impatiently.

“Like hoping you'll let me kiss you right now even though we're supposed to be writing our papers,” Derek claimed, pushing his computer off his lap and turning to face Stiles. Brushing his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip, he tacked on, “Hoping you'll never get tired of teasing me. Hoping you'll say yes when I ask you to marry me.”

“Oh,” Stiles murmured, going a bit cross-eyed as he tried to look at Derek. “That's a pretty good essay topic.”

Chapter Text

“God damn it, Derek! I’m trying to apologize!” Stiles screeched at the top of his lungs, close to literally ripping his own hair out. His boyfriend, who was dangerously close to being his ex-boyfriend, was downright infuriating.

He hadn’t done a single thing wrong and Derek was still furious with him. Hell, if anyone should be upset, it was Stiles!

All Stiles had done was gone to the party Erica had invited him to, that Derek had adamantly refused to attend. He had practically begged Derek to go the party with him, not wanting to show up alone to a college party like some loser, especially when he had a smoking hot boyfriend he had yet to show off.

Derek had claimed that he didn’t want to go to a party just be Stiles’ arm candy. Realizing he had been an asshole, Stiles had apologized and kissed his boyfriend until he smiled again. But Derek still refused to go to the party.

He had insisted that it would be too loud, his ears too sensitive. He also asserted that most parties reeked off stale booze and cheap weed, of body odor and sex, and he didn’t want to subject his nose to any of it.

Despite Stiles’ constant requests that Derek accompany him to the party, Derek remained obstinate and refused. Eventually, Stiles had just sighed and decided to go alone, figuring he would run into Erica there.

Before he left, he had given Derek a goodbye kiss to show him that he wasn’t upset. See? He was a great boyfriend. So why Derek thought he would ever cheat on him was a mystery.

Stiles hadn’t run into Erica at the party, but he had run into the obnoxiously persistent girl from his chemistry class who did not seem to understand the meaning of the word no. Nor did she seem to understand when Stiles painstakingly explained that he was in a committed relationship with the most wonderful man in the world.

She had cornered him at the party as he was leaving the bathroom, the scent of cheap, too-strong vodka on her breath. Her lips had been shiny with a fresh coat of lip gloss, that had covered Stiles’ when she leaned forward and kissed him.

Apparently, Derek had decided to go to the party, after all. And of course, he walked in right as Little Miss Bad Touch kissed Stiles.

Derek had stormed out with a loud slam of the front door, shaking the entire house. Pushing the girl away from him, Stiles had run after Derek, desperately calling his name.

“She kissed me! ” Stiles growled, jogging to keep up with Derek’s brutal pace. “I was leaving the bathroom and she just kissed me! I didn’t want her to! Derek!”

Speaking of Derek, he froze in his tracks. Whipping around to face Stiles, looking murderous, he demanded in a low growl, “Did she hurt you?”

“No, Derek, I’m fine,” Stiles sighed. “Just don’t leave me.”

“I never could.”

Chapter Text

“You ever think about how fucked up names are?” Stiles asked, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen between him and Derek as they stargazed. He knew it was a non sequitur, but he thought about it a lot and he had a feeling that Derek was the only one who wouldn’t make fun of him for it.

“How so?” Derek wondered aloud, no trace of teasing in his voice, proving Stiles right. Turning his head so his cheek rested on the thick blanket he had laid out in the field, he looked at Stiles expectantly. “Like it’s fucked up that people have names or the names themselves are fucked up?”

“The second one,” Stiles said, tilting his head to meet Derek’s eyes in the low light of their secluded little field beneath the stars. Glancing back up at the multitude of stars overhead, he continued, “We did a project in my linguistics class about names. Their origins, their cultural significance, their meaning…”

“The meaning of names is fucked up?” Derek guessed, rolling over onto his side to better look at Stiles who was staring skyward, obviously lost in his thoughts.

“Some of them are, yeah,” Stiles confirmed, nodding his head. “I mean, your name is fine. Germanic, from the name Dederick, from the name Theodoric, meaning ‘ruler of the people’.”

“So…” Derek drawled, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouths, “Pretty fitting for an alpha, huh?”

Stiles just nodded, clearly not in the mood for joking around. It was strange, seeing Stiles so resolutely serious. Still gazing up at the sky, he announced, “But, like, my mom’s name was Claudia. Feminine form of Claudius. Latin. Meaning ‘lame’. As in disabled. How the hell is that fair?”

“It’s not,” Derek agreed, scooting a little closer to his boyfriend in order to curl his arm around his waist. Snuggling closer, he laid his head on Stiles’ shoulder and very softly asked, “Do you know what your name means?”

“Something along the lines of ‘trick’ and ‘glory’,” Stiles explained succinctly with a tiny shrug, accidentally jostling Derek a bit. Elaborating, he claimed, “Przemysław. From the elements Przemysł, meaning ‘trick’ or ‘strategy’ and Slava meaning ‘glory’.

Derek leaned in to press his lips to Stiles’ cheek, following the pattern of moles on his pale skin that acted like their own constellations. He squeezed Stiles’ hip reassuringly as his boyfriend lamented, “Names are just so fucked up.”

Nodding, Derek tightened his grip on Stiles and lightly rubbed his stubbled cheek against the side of his neck. It earned him a startled laugh, the sound filling him with unbelievable warmth despite the chill in the early spring air.

“I think it’s a very fitting name,” Derek announced, peppering some more kisses over Stiles’ beautiful moles. They were addictive, Derek unable to resist kissing all over them. Stiles loved it just as much and never complained.

“Yeah?” Stiles questioned, turning over onto his side.

“Of course. It’s the name of the man I love.”

Chapter Text

To say that Stiles was nervous would be a gross understatement. If Derek hadn’t been holding his hand, he probably would have run away. He was sorely tempted even as he squeezed Derek’s fingers.

The banner announcing the annual Hale family’s summer barbecue hung proudly over the gate to the Hales’ sprawling back yard. It billowed in the early summer breeze which somehow made it even more foreboding.

Stiles had been to the Hale family barbecue dozens of times, thanks to the fact that his dad was the Sheriff and was always invited and the fact that Talia Hale had been best friends with his mother. But this was different because this time he was going to the barbecue as Derek’s boyfriend.

He was expecting lots of interrogating, from Derek’s mother and his sisters, who made it their mission in life to terrorize their only brother. He also had a feeling he would be receiving plenty of sideways glances and judgemental once-overs. And thanks to Derek’s incorrigible gossip of an uncle, Peter, he would definitely be the topic of family scuttlebutt throughout the barbecue.

Though he would never admit it to Derek, not wanting to ruin his boyfriend’s day, Stiles was beyond terrified. The Hales were the most influential family in the Pacific Northwest, even more so in their little town of Beacon Hills, and someone like him, with his humble roots, might not be accepted so easily into their fold.

It wasn’t that the Hales were elitist or snobby, quite the opposite actually, but he knew how protective Talia Hale could be when it came to her children. When his friend Isaac had started dating Derek’s younger sister, Cora, their mother had actually hired a private investigator to go through Isaac’s personal history before deeming him good enough to date her daughter.

While Isaac had passed with flying colors, Stiles wasn’t so sure he would if Talia hired another private investigator. The mere thought of not passing Talia Hale’s inspection made his palms sweat which immediately alerted Derek to the fact that something was wrong.

“Nervous, babe?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the side of Stiles’ hand to try to calm him down. He slowed his pace, giving them some more time before they reached the back gate and entered the barbecue area where the smell of charcoal and burgers was already filling the air.

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted softly, hanging his head so he didn’t have to see the disappointment on Derek’s face. Refusing to look up, he stared down at his shoes as he continued walking, resigning himself to his face even as he asked, “What if they don’t like me?”

“They already like you,” Derek pointed out, letting go of Stiles’ hand to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He tugged Stiles closer, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder reassuringly. Derek shrugged casually and nonchalantly claimed, “If they don’t? We’ll just elope.”

He set his hand on the handle to the gate and smiled brightly, asking, “You ready?”

Chapter Text

Derek Hale was an avid baseball fan, a huge nerd, the best mechanic on the West coast, and a happily married man as proven by the sparkling silver band on his left ring finger. So, his coworkers at the garage were completely baffled when they caught him flirting with the cute deputy who waltzed in asking questions concerning a case about a stolen car.

Being as attractive a man as he was, Derek was subjected to constantly being hit on by customers. Women were the worst, both young and old, always acting as though they were entitled to make crude comments about Derek’s muscles in his grease stained tank top or gossip about how good his ass looked in his blue coveralls.

While they usually remained persistent when Derek tried to politely turn them down, it was the ring on his finger that stopped them dead in their tracks. It worked especially well when Derek decided to up the ante by detailing just how much he loved his husband.

His coworkers always rolled his eyes when he went down that road, used to Derek waxing poetic about his husband as he worked on engines or replaced tires. And while it was nice to see that their boss was so happy, it was a bit annoying when Derek began telling them about his husband for the umpteenth time.

Which was why, they were so taken aback when Derek shed his staunchly professional disposition when a sheriff’s deputy entered the garage, immediately flirting with the unfamiliar man. They stared, wide-eyed and aghast, as Derek folded his arms over his chest and greeted the deputy, “Well, how can I help you, officer?”

The deputy gave Derek a slow once-over, his lips quirking up at the corner in blatant interest. Setting his elbows on the front counter, the deputy leaned forward as he replied, “As much as I would like to say this is a social call, I need some information on a car that came in here earlier. There have been reports that it’s been stolen.”

“I’ll get the paperwork for you right away, officer,” Derek answered with a sly grin as he winked at the deputy. Winked! His coworkers collectively drew in a sharp gasp, glancing at each in confusion and disbelief.

Derek went to the computer and quickly gathered the information for the deputy, printing it out and attaching the papers with a paperclip. Turning back to the deputy, he handed him the paperwork, still smiling flirtatiously.

Then, managing to shock the garage workers even more, their boss leaned over the counter and pulled the deputy in a deep kiss. It was the most scandalous thing any of them had ever seen, even worse than the time they had heard about the Sheriff’s son getting caught having sex with his boyfriend in public.

But then, they noticed the silver band on the deputy’s left ring finger as he cupped Derek’s cheek. Derek’s coworker’s sigh of relief could be heard for miles.

Chapter Text

Logically, Derek knew that he shouldn't get so worked up over something as relatively innocent as Stiles wearing his clothes but he just couldn't help it.

Maybe it was a werewolf thing, his more primal side reveling in the fact that his boyfriend was eagerly wrapping himself up in his scent. Or maybe it was the sense of possessiveness it instilled in him whenever Stiles borrowed his clothes.

It was proof, to a wolf at least, that Stiles was proud to be be with him. Derek equated it to the way that many people proudly strutted around with hickeys on their necks, mostly because he liked to see Stiles wearing his hickeys too.

Maybe it was a comfort thing, clearly showing off how comfortable Stiles was with him, enough to wear his clothes without a second thought. And it definitely appealed to the provider on Derek.

Then again, maybe it was just because it was sexy as hell. Stiles always looked so damn good in Derek's clothes, whether it was his soft Henleys or threadbare sweatpants.

Stiles could make a potato sack look good if he had a mind to, Derek was sure, so him making one of Derek's t-shirts the sexiest piece of lingerie in the world wasn't a surprise. Though, it still struck Derek every time Derek saw him in his clothes.

As it was, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching as Stiles danced around while cooking breakfast. He was smiling to himself as he silently watched his boyfriend shimmy around barefoot.

Stiles was wearing a pair of Derek's flannel sleep pants that hung low on his hips, the fabric bunching around his ankles. He had thrown on one of Derek's more baggy t-shirts that was so big on him that one of the sleeves had slipped down his shoulder to show off the curve of his collarbone and the hickey Derek had left there.

And while Derek had seen Stiles in various states of undress, had seen him completely naked just a few hours ago, he was more gorgeous, and more arousing, than ever. Especially when he started shaking his ass to whatever tune he was humming.

Pushing off the wall, Derek silently padded across the kitchen to wrap his arms around Stiles’ waist, playfully growling in his ear as he nipped at his neck. Stiles let out a startled laugh as he relaxed into Derek's arm, sagging against his chest while squeaking, “Derek! You're supposed to be sleeping! Kinda defeats the purpose of breakfast in bed if you get out of bed, babe.”

“Breakfast isn't what I want in bed right now,” Derek announced in a mumble, pressing his lips against the hickey on the side of Stiles’ back. Letting a whine bleed into his voice, he almost begged, “C'mon, babe. Let's go back to bed.”

“You have such a clothes sharing kink, you big weirdo.”

Derek didn't deny it. Instead, he just scooped Stiles into up his arms and turned off the stove.

Chapter Text

After spending years of their lives valiantly trying to just make it through the day without getting eviscerated or worse, Derek and Stiles learned just how important it is to live in the moment, to cherish every second.

One of their favorite ways to just focus on the moment was to sit on their front porch in their new home, the renovated Hale House that no longer felt cold with the ghosts of the past. It was full of warmth and light from what the future might hold thanks to their peaceful present.

The entire pack had helped to rebuild the house from the ground up, reconstructing it brick by brick, along with a few others who volunteered to help. Sheriff Stilinski had been the first to volunteer to help with the rebuild, followed by Melissa, Deaton, and even Chris Argent who had been dedicating himself to escaping the shadow of his and his family’s past atrocities.

It had taken a year to finish the house but it was a year well spent as at the end of it the Hale House stood in the middle of the preserve in all its glory. The house was a testament to the perseverance and endurance of the Hale family, a physical place commemorating it.

Derek had decided to extend the previous porch that had existed, explaining that he had spent a summer building it with his father when he was twelve years old. He had turned it into a huge wrap-around porch with an attached gazebo-like structure complete with a porch swing and cushioned chairs.

It had quickly become one of his favorite places in the entire house, others being the grand stone fireplace, the home library, and his and Stiles’ bedroom. He and Stiles liked to spend their mornings sitting in the gazebo, just watching the sun rise through the trees as various songbirds sang an aubade to greet the day.

Stiles would sip his favorite caramel espresso as he sat on the porch swing, the leisurely motion keeping him calm in spite of the caffeine in his drink. Derek, on the other hand, always sipped a cup of jasmine tea, the same kind that his mother used to make him before he left for school.

They were rarely alone when they sat in the gazebo, their cats, Charlie and Smoky, always joining them to sprawl out on the portion of the porch unobstructed by a roof. For hours they would lounge in the sunshine until they decided to meander back inside for some food.

Only occasionally did they actually talk, instead content with just sitting together with their hands joined and their heads on each other’s shoulders. For once, Stiles didn’t need words to fill the silence, the birdsong doing it for him.

Rather than talk, they would luxuriate in each other’s presence, pressing lazy kisses to each other’s cheeks and temples. Besides, they didn’t need to talk when all they needed to say could be said without a word.

Chapter Text

“Dude, what the hell are you watching?” Stiles wondered aloud as he stepped further into the room where Derek was lying on the couch watching TV. As soon as the words left his mouth, Derek scrambled to his feet, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and desperately trying to turn the TV.

But nothing happened. No matter how many times he hit the power button, the children’s cartoon that he was watching remained on screen.

“That’s the DVD remote, big guy,” Stiles informed him as he reached over to grab the TV remote from off the unoccupied couch cushions. He turned it around a few times in his hand, brandishing it with a wide smirk.

On the TV screen, a character laughed, mocking Derek. He hung his head and let out a deep groan before plopping down on the couch.

Slumping against the cushions, he covered his face with his hands, so beyond embarrassed that Stiles showed some mercy and turned the volume on the TV down. He set the remote down on the coffee table along with one of the two sodas he had pilfered from Derek’s refrigerator.

“You should really restock your fridge,” Stiles commented conversationally as he sat down on the couch beside Derek. Opening his own can of soda with a metallic snap, Stiles shifted a little bit closer and announced, “The only thing left is some leftover roast beef and these sodas. Your freezer’s pretty wiped out, too. Isaac spend the night again? That dude and his midnight cravings, am I right?”

That got a smile from Derek, though it was small and barely visible through his fingers. It encouraged Stiles nonetheless.

Laying his head on Derek’s shoulder, Stiles set his soda down in favor of curling an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Snuggling closer, he very softly murmured, “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It's fine,” Derek claimed, dropping his hands into his lap with an exaggerated pout, the situation clearly not fine. “I'm a grown adult, I shouldn't be watching cartoons, anyway.”

“Blasphemy,” Stiles declared, startling Derek who craned his neck to look over at Stiles with a curiously raised brow. Stiles just shrugged and explained, “Me and my dad still watch the Justice League animated show every Saturday. Cartoons are the shit.”

“So you don't think I'm…” Derek trailed off gesturing around aimlessly with a deep frown. Stiles just shook his head and tightened his arm around Derek who still seemed unsure, asking, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Stiles confirmed with a grin up at his boyfriend, giving him a tight squeeze. Groping around on the coffee table, Stiles picked up the remote and turned the volume up.

He shook the remote again, silently bragging that he had used the right one, as he settled in more comfortably against Derek. His boyfriend immediately curled an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

They both turned their attention back to the TV screen to watch whatever wacky situations the characters got into.

Chapter Text

“Psychics are full of shit,” Derek grumbled under his breath for the fifth time since Erica had insisted they visit the fortune teller tent at the annual county fair. Isaac rolled his eyes as Boyd let out a deep sigh and clapped Derek on the shoulder, telling him to lighten up.

But Derek had good reason to be skeptical of psychics. Years ago, before he and Laura had returned to Beacon Hills, they had consulted a psychic in New York.

She was a witch who was related to the emissary of the Brooklyn pack's alpha, a woman who owned a flower shop and spoke in cryptic riddles like another druid Derek knew. She had gone by the name of Madame Rue.

They had gone to her before Laura returned to their hometown, requesting her advice. She had claimed that there would be a bit of heartache yet despite it, Derek would find his mate in Beacon Hills.

She had lauded Derek's mate as powerful and strong, claiming they would make the Hale pack as great as it had once been. But the only hint she had given him concerning the identity of his mate was the letter S.

But she was wrong. Just a few years later Laura was dead and Derek had not seen hide nor hair of his powerful mate.

Once, he had considered the possibility that Scott of all people was his mate. But he had quickly discounted it as Scott was both completely incompetent and beyond intolerable.

The only kind of magnetic attraction associated with mates that he had ever felt had been with Stiles. But Stiles couldn't be his mate. He was human.

Derek was convinced that Madame Rue had been wrong entirely. And he was suddenly looking right at her as she sat at a round table inside the fortune teller tent.

“Madame Rue?” Derek asked incredulously, suddenly feeling the phantom brush of Laura's ponytail on his arm. She had put her hair up when they visited the psychic and spritzed on some rose and wine perfume.

Madame Rue looked exactly the same as she had in her apartment the day she casually predicted Laura's murder. Flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder, she narrowed her eyes at him and inquired, “Have you found your little mate yet?”

At his betas’ confused looks, he succinctly explained, “Met her before we came back to Beacon Hills. Said I'd meet my mate.”

“ ‘They'll be more powerful than you can imagine and will restore the Hale pack to its former glory’,” Madame Rue recited with a self-satisfied grin. She looked at Stiles. “It's him.”

“Can't be,” Derek refuted. “He's just a human.”

He tried to ignore the offended look Stiles threw him. He failed miserably.

“Foolish pup,” Madame Rue tutted. “He is no mere human and you know it. He is a spark and he is your mate—” she looked at Stiles again “—Aren't you, Szczęsny Stanisław Stilinski?”

Stiles groaned as Derek almost howled with joy.

Chapter Text

“Hey, babe,” Stiles greeted as he plopped down in bed beside Derek, laughing a bit when he bounced a few times. He turned his face into his pillow to stifle his laughter, not wanting to interrupt Derek's reading.

But there was a question dancing around on the tip of his tongue that he had been holding back for long enough. Lifting his head, he scooted closer to his boyfriend until he was resting his chin on Derek's shoulder. “Hey, Der. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Derek agreed, carefully marking the page he was on before closing the book and setting it aside on his nightstand. He curled an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, propping himself up against his pillow. “What's up?”

“Don't take this the wrong way, but how would you describe our sex life?” Stiles questioned casually, resting his hand on Derek's chest to run his finger over the smooth skin above his nipple. He chewed his lip as he waited for Derek to answer.

“Great,” Derek answered with a wide, beaming grin, not taking any offense to Stiles’ question. He seemed rather proud of his answer as he stretched out his legs.

Trailing his fingertips over Derek's arm,tracing them over the veins beneath the skin, Stiles inquired, “Okay, but if you had to use a flavor to describe it you wouldn't say it's… I dunno, vanilla?”

Derek shook his head, asking, “Why? Would you?”

“Yes!” Stiles admitted emphatically, throwing his hands up. “Our sex life is painfully vanilla. I'm talking missionary, under the covers with the lights off vanilla, dude! It's so boring.”

“Then what do you want?” Derek risked asking, clenching his jaw and fisting his hand in the blanket covering his lap. He was trying to be understanding without getting offended.

Stiles greatly appreciated his efforts. Running a reassuring hand over Derek's chest, he rushed to explain, “Nothing crazy, I promise.”

Derek was skeptical. He cocked a brow at Stiles, waiting for him to continue.

Sitting up, Stiles did.

“I mean, like maybe we could try new positions or new places,” Stiles suggested, wringing his hands nervously. “Or whatever.”

“Where?” Derek mumbled. At Stiles’ confused look, he elaborated, “Where do you wanna have sex?”

“The Camaro,” Stiles blurted. Refusing to be embarrassed, he climbed into Derek's lap. “I wanna blow you while you're driving. I want you to fuck me in the backseat. I want you to eat me out on the hood.”

“What else?” Derek urged, setting his hands on Stiles’ hips.

Stiles smirked. “I want to surprise you at work, fuck you in the broom closet.”

Leaning closer, he rested his hands on Derek's chest, rocking their hips together. “I wanna ride you while wearing panties.”

“But you wanna know what I really want…?” He drawled in Derek's ear, smirking when Derek shook his head with a sharp intake of breath. He made sure his lips brushed against Derek's neck with every word. “I want you to spank me while I blow you.”

Chapter Text

Stiles loved babies. He always had.

He was an only child, save for the fact that Scott was essentially his brother, but he had always loved being around babies. His mother, when she was still alive and healthy, had run a daycare out of their home and on days when Stiles didn't have school he would help her take care of the other kids.

Despite being an easily excitable, hyper little kid he had been incredibly patient with the younger kids, letting them play with his toys and eat his favorite snacks. He only lost his temper once, when one of the younger kids broke one of his Batman action figures, but he had immediately apologized to both the child and his mother.

When his mother passed away, he was once again the only child in the Stilinski home.

A few years later, he started volunteering at a local daycare in town, his time greatly appreciated. He would spend hours rocking babies to sleep and coloring with toddlers.

He still volunteered at the daycare despite being a full-time student and working a part-time job on top of his pack duties and reserving time for his relationship. Yup, that's right, Stiles Stilinski had a boyfriend.

And his boyfriend wasn't just anyone. No, his boyfriend was Derek freaking Hale.

They had officially gotten together the summer before Stiles started his first semester of college. They had been immersed in dating bliss ever since.

It was a long distance sort of relationship, mostly due to Stiles attending college out of town and having limited time to visit his new beau. But it worked for them, bolstered by constant texts and Skype sessions and long drives to and from Stiles’ campus

They were happy with it, even more so when they actually got to see one another, even if all they did when they saw each other was cuddle on the couch watching Netflix or running errands. Even grocery shopping was an experience to cherish as long as they were together.

“We just need to grab some cereal and peanut butter and we're all set,” Stiles announced, crossing yogurt off of the grocery list Derek had provided him with before they drove to the local supermarket. He turned to look at Derek when he didn't answer, “Okay, babe?”

But Derek was preoccupied, stopped in his tracks in the middle of the aisle, his eyes on an adorably chubby baby in another cart. The woman that Stiles assumed was the baby's mother was squinting at price tags, oblivious to the two men staring at her baby.

Derek raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in a wide grin as he wiggled his fingers at the infant who raised a fist in the air and let out a coo. Stiles was aghast. He never would've pegged Derek as the type to like babies yet there he was making faces at an infant just to get her to smile.

If Stiles had ovaries they would have exploded.

Chapter Text

Stiles had never been very good with jealousy.

Ever since he was a little kid, he had been horrible with dealing with the little green eyed monster. And anyone who knew him was well aware of it.

When he was seven he had gotten into a fight at school when someone else claimed that Scott was their best friend. When he was seventeen he ended up despising Allison for taking up all of Scott’s time.

Now, at twenty one, he was more jealous than he had ever been before. All because of some stupid present.

A few weeks prior, Derek had left town for an important meeting with a couple other alphas in the surrounding area. Stiles had been recruited to housesit the loft, mostly to water the plants that Derek had started growing by the wall of windows.

Inevitably, Stiles had gone snooping, his curiosity getting the better of him. Hoping to win a bet that he and Scott had made about whether or not Derek masturbated or not, Stiles had gone rifling through Derek’s nightstand in search of lube.

In addition to the bottle of lube he did in fact find, proving that he was right and Derek really did jerk off, Stiles had stumbled upon a small white box. It had looked innocuous enough but something had urged him to open so that’s just what he did.

Inside was a pendant, the silver charm an anatomically correct heart with aorta and all. A small note had been included in the box, written in Derek’s neat print, reading, For the one who holds my heart.

A rush of pure anger had washed over Stiles as he chucked the box back into the nightstand and slammed the drawer shut. After making sure he had watered Derek’s stupid plants, he had rushed out of the loft, tossing the spare key over his shoulder.

His jealousy was colored with desperate hopes that whoever did hold Derek’s heart would cherish it forever and never forget how lucky they were. It was also tinged with wariness due to Derek’s horrible history of picking people to date.

Despite wanting the best for Derek, he couldn’t help his jealousy, having been in love with Derek for years and sleeping with him for months. And his jealousy showed.

A few weeks later, after a pack meeting, Derek finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior. Once everyone else had left, Derek growled, “What the hell is your problem, Stiles? You’re acting like a child!”

“I’m jealous, okay?!” Stiles snarled back, not seeing the point in denying it any longer. “I found the necklace! ‘For the one who holds my heart’! So just go hook up with whoever the hell it is and fuck off!”

“Stiles, you don’t understand!” Derek claimed desperately, crossing the room to cup Stiles’ face in his hands the way he had the first time they had slept together. “Stiles, the necklace is for you. You’re the one who has my heart. It’s you.”

Chapter Text

Running a coffee shop slash bakery in the heart of Beacon Hills’ busy shopping center meant that Derek met all sorts of characters.

There was Erica Reyes, a tattoo artist who was fond of red lipstick and shared Derek’s affinity for leather jackets, though hers were much more stylish than his. She was also one of the most badass people he had ever met, his sisters and his mother in the same category.

She liked caramel lattes and apple pie muffins.

There was Boyd who vehemently insisted that he just go by his surname, glowering at anyone who attempted to use his first name. He was a history teacher at the local community college, usually stopping by in the morning before class, even more stoic than Derek.

He took his coffee black, occasionally ordering a dark chocolate chip cookie.

And there was Isaac Lahey, an artist who could only be described as introverted and a bit moody. Derek never saw him without a scarf wrapped around his neck, no matter how hot or humid it was.

He always ordered s’mores flavored drinks, not having any preference for hot or cold, and some chocolate scones.

Then, there was Stiles. Like Boyd, he only went by a name different than his own given one, though he claimed that it was because his first name was unpronounceable.

He came into the shop at all hours of the night with dark bags under his eyes and an air of exhaustion and frustration surrounding him like a dark cloud. Most of the time he took his coffee to but sometimes he stayed.

Those times, he would take a seat at a table for two and linger for a few hours, taking his time sipping his mochas and Americanos. He never seemed to be in a rush like most customers, instead content to just relax in the coffee shop for awhile.

He had a thing for chocolate glazed donuts and cherry pie, always ordering seconds when he was in the mood for food. It was rather gratifying, proving that all of the time and hard work Derek had put into perfecting his recipes.

There was a betting pool among Derek and his sisters about what Stiles’ profession actually was. Cora thought he must be an office worker who worked late while Laura thought he was certain that he was a serial killer.

Derek guessed that Stiles was worked in some sort of IT department due to his obvious affinity for all kinds of gadgets and gizmos. But he never had the nerve to actually ask Stiles what he did, let alone talk to him at all. Until Stiles came in when only Derek was working.

“So… Late night?” Derek asked conversationally as he refilled Stiles’ cup of mocha.

“Yeah, kinda goes with the job,” Stiles explained. At Derek’s curious look, he rucked his shirt up to reveal the gun holstered to his hip. “I’m a detective.”

Derek could not believe he had lost yet another bet.

Chapter Text

Stiles had an amazing cherry pie recipe that he had entered into the annual county fair pie contest for the past few years. Yet every single year, without fail, he came in second place to the same person.

Mr. Wolfe’s blackberry pie had won the contest every time for the past five years, beating out Stiles’ cherry pie and Mrs. Mahealani’s pineapple cream pie. The judges always raved about the streusel topping and perfectly flaky crust, the sweet and tart blackberry filling. And every time it just made Stiles hang his head lower.

But the worst thing was that Mr. Wolfe never even showed up to accept his first place blue ribbon. He just sent in an envelope with his pie, expecting to win every time.

It was infuriating. So this year Stiles decided to scrap his old recipe and come up with a brand new one.

He stuck with the cherries since they had always been his favorite but decided to soak them in bourbon before combining them with brown sugar to make a cherry compote. And rather than doing a lattice pattern with pie crust, he made his own streusel crumble.

There was still a few weeks to go before the pie contest and he decided to use the time to perfect his new recipe. He baked a variety of other pies (peach, apple, blueberry, etc.) in case his new recipe was absolutely terrible and called in someone to taste all of them for him: Derek.

“And this…” Stiles began as he carried yet another plate of pie over to Derek who was sitting at the breakfast island, a hand on his stomach and a smudge of blueberry on his cheek. “Is my whiskey cherry pie.”

“I'm not sure if I can eat any more pie,” Derek claimed, looking at the slice Stiles set down in front of him with a dubious expression on his face. He had already eaten half a dozen slices of ridiculously decadent pie, feeling stuffed despite his werewolf metabolism.

But Stiles pouted at him, jutting his bottom lip out with a theatrical quiver. His voice small and pleading, Stiles urged, “C'mon, it's the last one.”

“Fine,” Derek sighed, straightening up and grabbing his discarded fork. The slice of pie before him did in fact look quite delicious, the scent of bourbon and cinnamon teasing at his nose.

He scooped up a generous amount of pie, loading up his fork with cherries and streusel, and brought it to his lips. He let out a small moan around the mouthful of pie.

“Is it good?” Stiles prompted, clapping his hands together.

Derek swallowed with a loud gulp, explaining, “Yes! Stiles, this is amazing!”

“Good enough to beat Mr. Wolfe's blueberry pie?” Stiles asked, biting his lip expectantly.

But Derek just froze. “Mr. Wolfe?”

“Yeah, he's been beating me for years,” Stiles explained. “Why?”

“Stiles, I'm Mr. Wolfe,” Derek said.

“Oh my god! I can't believe my boyfriend's been the one beating me this whole time!”

Chapter Text

As much as Derek loved his little sister, sometimes he really hated her. Like, now for instance, standing in line for a charity kissing booth.

It was a tradition for the Hales to attend the annual charity festival, every year the whole family making the short trip to the public park in the center of town. Booths and tents and other stands would set up on either side of the bike path that bisected the park, volunteers collecting money for charities and local small businesses.

Despite no longer being a kid, Derek encouraged them to continue the tradition. And most of his family members excitedly agreed.

Cora hadn't wanted to attend, preferring to laze around in her room and text her new boyfriend all day. Their mother had insisted that she tag along with the rest of the family, claiming that Isaac would probably be there anyway since half of the county always showed up.

Now, Cora was exacting her revenge. And Derek could nothing about it without causing a scene.

As they had passed the section of the festival dedicated to games and activities designed to encourage people to donate to the county sheriff's department, Cora had spotted a kissing booth. But that wasn't what caught her attention.

It was who was manning the kissing booth: the Sheriff's son Stiles. Also known as the guy Derek had been harboring a crush on for years .

Cora had downright manhandled Derek into the line, pinching his side and dragging him over to the booth. When Derek realized just why exactly his sister brought him there, he tried to run but she grabbed him and threatened to scream if he didn't go through with it.

And the only thing worse than paying to kiss his crush would be his crush hearing his sister yell, “I can't believe you don't want to give any money to the sheriff's department!”

So he stayed put and hoped that Stiles wouldn't think he was too much of a weirdo. He also tried to formulate a revenge plot of his own to get back at his devious sister.

The line was annoyingly long, making a coil of jealousy curl in Derek's gut. He was the one who used to write poems in the margins of his notebooks about Stiles’ moles, damn it!

Stiles greeted him with a smile when he made it to the front of the line. Before either of them could say anything, Cora slapped down a ten dollar bill and pointed emphatically at Derek before standing off to the side.

Stiles smiled almost shyly before straightening up and cracking his knuckles. Flexing his shoulders, he rolled his neck, looking like a boxer preparing for another round.

He grabbed Derek by the front of his shirt and tugged him into a deep kiss that stole both of their breaths away. Stiles licked into Derek's mouth, shocking Derek so much so he flailed around wildly.

Pulling back, Stiles admitted, “I've wanted to do that for awhile.”

Chapter Text

“Dude, this is total bullshit!” Stiles spat, waving his hand at the TV screen. There was a trailer playing, advertising a new summer blockbuster. “Sharks aren't inherently evil! They just have bad eyesight!”

For the past few minutes, Stiles had been ranting and raving about the movie the trailer was advertising for. Derek hadn't really been paying attention to the TV, halfway through the book in his lap, but he registered that the movie involved people trapped in a shark cage and bloodthirsty great whites.

He had only raised his head and set his book down when Stiles launched into his tirade about the demonization of sharks in the media. He cited Jaws a few times, along with a handful of other unrealistic shark movies including the one featuring an actor who looked almost identical to Boyd.

“Did you know that the author of Jaws said he regretted it when people started killing sharks left and right?” Stiles inquired, turning his head to look at Derek with incredulity written all over his face. “It's such fucking bullshit!”

He whipped his head around to look back at the TV where another commercial had taken the place of the shark movie trailer. “Don't even get me started on shark culling.”

Derek didn't. But Stiles continued his diatribe anyway, “There's approximately seventeen shark attacks a year. But a hundred million sharks are killed every year. And for what?! Soup! Fucking soup!”

He folded his arms over his chest with a huff, settling back against the couch cushions as he glared at the shampoo commercial on the TV screen. Clearly, he was still upset about the shark movie that would be swimming into a theater near him in just a few days.

“Humans are the fucking worst. I don't know how you put up with us,” Stiles grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes. “Sharks are fucking awesome. They're just doing their best.”

Silence fell over them for a moment. Derek broke it by announcing, without preamble, “I love you.”

Stiles’ double take was downright comical as he jumped in his seat and turned his head like an owl to gawk at Derek. His mouth gaping open, Stiles blinked a few times and demanded, “Wait, what?”

“I love you,” Derek repeated, closing his book and setting it off to the side on the coffee table. He slipped off his reading glasses and placed them atop the book.

“Yeah, but why ?” Stiles prompted incredulously, leaning forward expectantly. He chewed his bottom lip as he waited for Derek's response.

“Because you're amazing,” Derek explained succinctly. “Because you're so passionate about everything and anything. Because you jump to the defense of sharks even though you're terrified of them.”

“Oh,” Stiles answered, mulling over Derek's words for a moment. Glancing at his boyfriend through his lashes, Stiles leaned closer and murmured, “Any other reasons you love me?”

Barking out a laugh, Derek pulled Stiles into his arms. “Because you're smart and funny and loyal and give great head.”

Chapter Text

“Alright everyone! Here he is!” David Hale boomed, his voice thunderous, drawing the attention of the rest of the Hale family that was gathered in the backyard. Slinging his arm around his son's shoulders, David tugged him into a one-armed hug and announced, “The man of the hour!”

Almost the entire extended Hale family had accumulated in the backyard of the Hale House, nestled deep within the preserve. It was Derek's twenty eighth birthday and as such it was cause for celebration, his whole family devout fans of parties and other family get togethers.

Despite being more introverted and at times downright socially awkward, Derek truly did adore getting to see his family, especially cousins and nieces and nephews he rarely got to see. So this year, he had taken the liberty of inviting everyone himself, spending hours making phone calls and sending out e-mails.

Everyone he had contacted had shown up, including a handful of family friends such as the Sheriff who worked with Laura at the station, and Melissa McCall who was in his mother’s book club. Then, there were his friends, namely Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, who were practically family themselves considering how often they were over.

And then there was Stiles, of course, who was hands down Derek’s best friend. Though, Boyd was definitely the next in line.

Since they both attended the same college, Stanford, Derek had volunteered to give Stiles a ride to the party, reasoning that it would save on gas if they just took one car. Though never a fan of not being able to drive his old beat up Jeep, Stiles had begrudgingly agreed when Derek cited rising gas prices.

They walked into the backyard together, Derek holding open the wooden gate for him thanks to his mother raising him to have perfect manners. So, naturally, his well intending father took it the wrong way and announced to the entire family, “And this is his boyfriend, Stiles!”

Derek froze in his tracks as Stiles sputtered incredulously. As Stiles gaped at him in pure disbelief, Derek raised a hand to touch his dad’s arm and urgently informed him, “Dad, no. We’re not together. Not like that.”

“What?” David asked, furrowing his brows and frowning down at his son, tilting his head to the side. He glanced over at Stiles, looking thoroughly confused, before turning back to Derek. “But that doesn’t make any sense! For months you’ve been telling all about why you adore him!”

“I told you that in confidence!” Derek squeaked, feeling his cheeks flush red. He too glanced over at Stiles who looked even more baffled than before, his eyes so wide Derek could hardly see the brown in them anymore. Desperate, he whined, “Oh my god, can we talk about this later? Please?”

David nodded and turned to corral the rest of those in attendance to the other side of the yard, leaving Derek and Stiles alone. No longer confused, Stiles smirked over at Derek and asked, “So, months?”

Chapter Text

Mudslides weren't the least bit uncommon in California. But they certainly were in Beacon Hills.

It had been raining for weeks. An angry incessant spring rain that flooded streets and drowned newly budding flowers, that canceled barbecues and shut down schools.

Yet despite the obscene amount of rain that pelted the little town, driving even the toughest of animals scurrying away back into their little caves and crevices, no one would have expected a mudslide. No one, including Stiles Stilinski.

He was driving back into town to spend spring break with his dad after his second semester of college, painfully homesick after months away at Stanford. He was tired and his stomach kept rumbling, reminding him that he had been too stingy at the convenience store he had stopped at halfway through his drive, only buying a soda and a soft pretzel.

It was only raining a little bit by the time he finally returned to Beacon County, a light drizzle that dappled his windshield with raindrops and provided a soothing serenade. His battered old Jeep was the only car on the road for miles, his headlights the only ones illuminating the road in front of him, cutting through the gray mist as he neared his hometown.

He had just passed the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills!’ sign when he heard a guttural rumble coming from the hill that rose over the road. A moment later, his Jeep was T-boned by a stream of mud and muck, making him skid to a halt before he was shoved off the road entirely.

His heart dangerously close to pounding right out of his chest, Stiles put his Jeep in park and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. He breathed deeply a handful of times to stave off the potential panic attack.

A moment later, another set of headlights appeared in the mist, coming from the direction of town. Someone jogged over and took the liberty of opening the driver's side door, demanding, “Are you alright?”

Stiles just nodded, curiously scanning his eyes over the man, noting two important things. One, he was wearing a Beacon Country Sheriff's Department uniform, meaning he worked with Stiles’ dad. And two, he was beyond fucking gorgeous.

“Come on, I'll get you out of here,” the gorgeous deputy offered, holding out his hand to Stiles with a friendly smile. Stiles instantly slipped his hand into the deputy’s, the other man giving his hand a squeeze

But he hesitated when the deputy tried to help him out of the car. Gripping the steering wheel with his other hand, Stiles blurted out, “I can't leave my Jeep. I can't.”

“That's alright,” the deputy assured, Stiles catching the name D. Hale on his nametag when his eyes wandered to his chest. Squeezing Stiles’ hand again, Deputy Derek informed him, “I already called a tow truck and the county will take care of the cost. Now, you wanna come with me to my cruiser?”

“You better have coffee in there, dude.”

Chapter Text

Stiles and Derek got married on the first day of spring. There was a cool breeze in the air but the bright sunlight kept everyone warm as they said their vows and exchanged their rings.

When Stiles and Derek shared their first kiss as a married couple everyone in attendance, mostly the pack and a few choice others, erupted into applause and happy shouts. No one clapped or called as loud as the Sheriff whose cheeks were wet with tears as he watched his only son join hands with the man he loved and announce that he would love him forever.

They honeymooned in the newly renovated Hale House, neither wanting to venture out of town when they could stay in their own home. Those days were filled with romantic dinners and spontaneous slow dances in the kitchen, interspersed with love making so sweet it took both of their breaths away.

Derek had opted not to go back to work after the wedding, at least not in the traditional capacity. He started writing, finding that he loved it, even more so when it meant he could stay home.

On the other hand, Stiles continued his work as a sheriff's deputy, following in his dad's footsteps career wise. He didn't make a fortune doing his job but he loved it and considering Derek's obscene amount of money, they never had to worry about paying the bills.

But as much as he adored his job and truly cared about his work, his favorite part of the day was coming home to his gorgeous husband.

Derek took to being a househusband like a wolf to the woods, basking in it and outshining anyone else who had ever done it before him. Martha Stewart would envy the way he cared for their home.

He organized Stiles’ work desk that was nestled in the corner of their bedroom, separating Stiles’ jumbled up files and alphabetizing them. He just smiled fondly when Stiles whined and complained about Derek disrupting his organized chaos.

He cleaned every day, claiming it cleared his mind whenever he got stuck on a piece he was writing. And every morning he went for a run, usually bringing their dog along with him.

He also liked to bake in nothing but a frilly white apron, his ass on full, glorious display in the kitchen when Stiles got home from work. That led to some wonderful sex on their kitchen counter, the room smelling of cinnamon and vanilla.

But this day was different and Stiles was more eager than usual to get home to his hubby. After clocking out for the day, Stiles practically sped home in his haste to give Derek the good news.

“Honey, I'm home!” Stiles announced as he burst in through their front door, their dog running over to greet him with a lick to his knuckles. He found Derek sitting on the couch reading. Unable to contain his excitement, Stiles informed him, “It went through. We're gonna be dads!”

Chapter Text

Derek had always loved rainy nights. Ever since he was a little pup in his mother's arm, cradled against her breast with a tummy full of milk.

He loved the way the sky darkened with thick clouds, an army of gray drifting overhead, bringing with it a blanket of hushed quiet. He loved the sound of the wind susurrating through the leaves and pine needles of the forest outside.

The pitter patter of rain on the roof and windows, the soft rumble of thunder in the distance, had been the best lullaby in the world, sometimes the only thing that could get him to fall sleep. The luminous moonlight that was only visible a tiny bit through the dark gray clouds had been his nightlight.

In New York the rain had seemed to taunt him, always too loud and too thunderous. For nights on end, the storms had kept him awake in he and Laura's little studio apartment in Brooklyn, the thunder sounding eerily like screams in the night.

Older and wiser now, back in the town that would always be his home, he loved the rain again. He cherished the scent of rain on the wind and the faint static sensation that danced through his hair when a storm was on the horizon.

But now he had someone to spend those cold rainy nights with.

Stiles liked the rain, too. He told Derek once that rain had been his mother's favorite, that she used to make hot chocolate with plenty of marshmallows and sit on the front porch to watch the storms that blew into town.

He had spent hours telling Derek about the times he and his mother had stayed up all night sipping hot chocolate and watching the way the lightning would splinter the sky. Derek had listened intently, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair and pressing kisses to his temple when he got choked up while telling him the story.

Now, they spent cold rainy nights curled up in bed together, their cat, aptly named Stormy, sprawled out on the foot of their bed. Derek spent the time running his eyes over Stiles’ back, the moonlight from the window tinting his skin a pale, misty blue.

“God, you're so beautiful…” He murmured, gazing dreamily at his boyfriend who simply blinked back at him, his eyes wide and dark, almost black in the dark of their bedroom. Derek raised a hand to run the backs of his fingers over Stiles’ cool cheek, tracing patterns over his moles.

“And you're drop dead gorgeous,” Stiles returned with a grin that lit up the whole room, tipping his hide to hide his smile in his pillow. Derek scooted a few inches closer, curling an arm around Stiles’ bare waist, his skin cool.

Stiles sighed contentedly, letting his eyes fall closed as he nestled into his pillow. Derek pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and shut his own eyes. Curled up together, they let the rain lull them to sleep.

Chapter Text

Stiles had never seen so much blood before. And he had seen the mangled remains of dead wendigos and other various supernatural creatures.

Hell, he had watched Peter get his throat ripped out for god's sake! But this, this was so much worse because it was Derek who was bleeding and it was Stiles who had caused it.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” Stiles exclaimed for what was the fifteenth time in the past five minutes because no matter how many times he said it, it just wasn't enough.

As it was now fall and the influx of supernatural creatures that flooded into Beacon County during the warmer months had come to a screeching halt, the pack had decided to spend some quality time doing something other than hunting fairies and tracking sasquatch. Peter had suggested a game of baseball.

They had separated into two teams of five, forgoing the usual teams of nine. Additionally, they had skipped picking teams, instead the pack splitting up as per usual on patrols through the preserve.

One team, captained by Derek to no one's surprise, consisted of the alpha, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Peter. The other team boasted Stiles as team captain due to his extensive knowledge of baseball, along with Scott, Allison, Kira, and Jackson.

Things had been going perfectly fine, the day shaping up to be a great one, until it was Stiles’ turn to bat. Derek was pitching for the other team, throwing a fastball that Stiles almost missed.

But he didn't. He somehow managed to hit the inhumanly fast baseball, his arms aching immediately afterward.

He had been proud and excited for about three seconds. The same amount of time it took for the ball to hit Derek in the face and break his nose.

Stiles had rushed to Derek's side to pull him back up to his feet and practically drag him into the house to get cleaned up while his broken bones healed. He had Derek lean over the bathroom sink as he profusely apologized, trying to refrain from passing out at the sight of so much blood.

“Stiles, it's fine. Everything's fine,” Derek assured him for the umpteenth time in the past five minutes. He managed to force a smile as he mopped more blood off of his face with a damp wash cloth.

But his smile was somewhat less than charming, though, since his teeth were stained a dark reddish brown from the blood.

Stiles felt a little woozy at the sight. A hand on the bathroom door jamb was the only thing that kept him upright.

“Oh my god,” he whined, hanging his head to scrub a hand over his face. Feeling like a complete asshole, he mumbled, “Great, now we can add me to the long list of people who have hurt you!”

“It's just a broken nose, Stiles,” Derek informed him with a smirk. It widened when he added, “Let's just chalk it up to an occupational hazard of dating you.”

Chapter Text

Derek had never been particularly jealous. Even as a little kid.

When he was younger and he saw his mother giving one of his sister's more attention or more hugs and kisses, he would just quietly wait his turn. He always got some cuddles anyway, so he never saw the point in throwing tantrums like his other siblings.

He was always willing to share his toys and his snacks and his picture books with the other kids in school, as long as they were nice. And he had never gone through the ‘mine’ phase that so many other children had.

Even when his mother got him a puppy for his birthday that ended up liking Cora more than him, Derek didn't get upset. He had just shrugged and come to the conclusion that maybe Cora was a better fit for the dog, after all, he was more of a cat person.

All the way up through high school, Derek never had any bouts with jealousy. Not even when his winter formal date cancelled last minute to go with someone else. He had just wished them the best and gone to the dance by himself.

Jealousy had never been one of his vices. That is, until he started dating Stiles.

He wasn't exactly sure if it was jealousy or possessiveness but a fierce wave of fury pulsed through him anytime someone's eyes lingered on Stiles. It was irrational and stupid, he knew, but he still wanted to claw their faces off.

He tried to hide it from Stiles. Tried to hide the way he wanted to growl and grumble when Stiles told him about his lab partner or his new friends that were taking up all his time.

Their relationship was still so new and Derek didn't want to ruin it with a little bit of unfounded jealousy. But this was just too much and Derek doubted he could control himself for much longer.

To celebrate the end of finals, Erica had insisted the whole pack go out for drinks at a local nightclub, despite the fact that more than half of them were too young to drink. Not that alcohol would actually have an effect on most of them.

Nonetheless, they had gone to the club. Which, of course, led to them taking to the dance floor.

Derek had demurred when Stiles asked him to dance, claiming the gyrating and grinding taking place on the dance floor was not dancing at all. Stiles had left to dance by himself.

He didn't stay alone long. Some asshole was plastered against his neck, running his hands all over Stiles’ arms and chest.

Derek tried not to get jealous, knowing he could trust Stiles but he didn't trust the other guy. Which is why he set his drink down and prowled over to his boyfriend, tugging him away from the other guy with a pointed growl.

“I was wondering how long you'd make me wait,” Stiles hummed. “Y'know, green looks good on you.”

Chapter Text

The shrill ring of his cell phone on his nightstand made Stiles lift his head off his pillow and peer over at the screen. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, hoping to clear his blurry vision.

For the past few hours he had been lying in bed watching Netflix, binge watching Luke Cage as heavy rain beat against his bedroom windows. A storm had rolled into town early that morning, bringing incessant rain and rumbling thunder, lightning striking the sky every few minutes.

The rain had only just begun to lighten up but it was too late for him to bother rolling out of bed. He had everything he needed right there: Netflix, a bowl of nonfat popcorn, and a bag of mini Reese's cups.

The only thing he was missing was his boyfriend. Fortunately, the name and number that was flashing on his phone screen belonged to said boyfriend.

Letting out a happy little coo at that fact, Stiles reached over to grab his phone, disconnecting it from its charging cable. Flopping back down in bed, Stiles swiped his thumb over the screen to accept the call, bringing the phone up to his ear to answer, “Hello?”

“Hey,” Derek breathed, sounding adorably flustered, maybe a little bit nervous. Stiles smiled to himself at the sound of Derek's voice over the line, relaxing back into his mattress.

“Hey, babe,” Stiles replied, his smile widening as he uttered the words. Pulling his blanket tighter around himself, he wondered aloud, “What's up?”

“Uh, nothing really, I was just wondering…” Derek began, trailing off before he build finish his thought. He took a moment to clear his throat before finishing, “I was just wondering if you were lonely?”

Stiles smirked to himself when he realized just where Derek was going with his question. Shifting around to get more comfortable, Stiles countered, “Are you hoping I'll say yes, Der? Hoping I'll say I'm lonely and cold from the storm so you can come over and cuddle and warm me up? Keep me company?”

“I…” Derek trailed off again. This time, however, he just cursed, “Fuck. I'm sorry. That's a horrible thing to want your boyfriend to say. I'm an asshole.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles chastised softly, hating the guilt so audible in Derek's voice. Running his hand over his comforter, tracing the plaid pattern with his palm, he explained, “It's not horrible. Especially since I am lonely. And cold. And I miss you.”

“Really? You are? You do?” Derek asked in a rush of breath, suddenly sounding like an eager puppy.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered with a wide grin, glad to hear his boyfriend’s voice devoid of any misplaced guilt. Absentmindedly wiggling his toes, Stiles announced, “So you should probably come over. Like, maybe right now.”

Stiles heard a clatter over the line and a few muttered curses, patiently waiting for Derek's response. It was better than he ever could have hoped for, Derek admitting, “I'm already on my way.”

Chapter Text

“So… Are there any other occupational hazards involved with dating me?” Stiles asked later that night, his cheek pressed into his pillow as he lay sprawled out on his belly in Derek’s big bed. The question had been bouncing around in his head all day after he had helped his boyfriend clean up his bloody, broken nose.

They hadn’t returned to the baseball after Derek’s injury, Stiles still too wracked with guilt at the fact that he had broken his boyfriend’s nose. Instead, while the rest of their pack finished up the game, Stiles and Derek hung out inside watching Netflix, Stiles’ arm thrown around Derek’s waist as they watched Lilo and Stitch.

Once they finished their game, Derek’s team winning even without him there to lead them, the betas streamed into the house. They plopped down to continue watching animated movies with

Stiles and Derek until the early hours of the evening.

Derek ordered pizzas after everybody else left, a meat lover’s for himself and a Philly cheesesteak one for Stiles, feeling a bit too lazy to cook. Stiles had greatly appreciated it, stuffing his face with pizza until they decided to call it a night.

Derek raised his head from his own pillow, looking over at Stiles with an incredulously raised brow. A soft smile curled up the side of his mouth, fondness clear in the way he shook his head at Stiles’ question.

“It’s almost midnight,” Derek pointed out, his grin widening as he looked over at his boyfriend. “And that’s what you wanna talk about?”

“Yup,” Stiles concurred, lifting his head to rest it in his palm, propping his elbow up on his pillow. He beamed over at Derek, gesturing with his free hand for him to begin, tacking on, “C’mon, dude. Don’t make me beg. You know how annoying I can be.”

“Hmph, fine,” Derek agreed with a fond roll of his eyes, rolling over onto his side to better face Stiles. He tapped his fingers against his thigh for a moment before starting, “Well, getting injured in increasingly odd scenarios is definitely one.”

Stiles smacked his arm.

“So, is getting kicked in the middle of the night,” Derek continued, pointing at Stiles’ legs. “You flail around in your sleep. If I didn’t heal so fast, I’d be covered in bruises.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek ignored him and went on, “I’ll probably get fat eating all the food you cook. Even with my metabolism. Why do you make such big portions all the time? You know I don’t have any self control when it comes to pierogies.”

Stiles just shrugged, his cheeks splitting as he tried to hold back laughter at Derek’s vexation. He had to concede that he had been making huge portions lately, mostly because of how used he was to leaving his dad leftovers.

“But the biggest occupational hazard?” Derek wondered aloud, closing the distance between them to wrap his arms around Stiles’ waist. “I keep falling in love with you.”