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When his mother gave him the assignment to train the three new betas for the Hale pack, Derek definitely scowled and demanded to know why Laura didn’t train them. Talia Hale had simply given him an all-knowing smile and that Alpha-knows-best attitude along with the lecture about pack responsibility and since Laura was already doing a fine job mentoring that lovely Erica Reyes, Derek definitely needed to contribute to the Hale werewolf legacy. Apparently there was something too that she said about learning the most when you teach, but Derek wasn’t really paying attention.
He had a plan. If he was the worst teacher ever, the most horrible werewolf mentor possible in the universe, surely they would take the poor betas away from him and let someone else train them. Someone like Laura, who was not all busy training her perfect little protege, since Derek was pretty sure Erica had already learned how to control her shifts and was on her way to becoming a good little addition to the Hale pack. Laura should be training these new brats, instead of sneaking off with Erica to attend concerts and parties.
Derek smirked at the dark and ominous train depot he had found for his training sessions. Perfect.
The three teenagers were sitting quietly in the darkness, among the filtering dust motes and the rusty chains. They were looking at each other warily, and then snapped to nervous attention when Derek burst into the warehouse, jumping theatrically onto the ground and snarling at them.
"Rule one," Derek growls. "Always wear a leather jacket."
The first afternoon is filled with silly commandments that Derek makes up: the leather jacket, for one, because its sheer raw animal hide helps channel your inner wolf energy. He then spends the next few hours teaching the young Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, and Vernon Boyd how to lurk and brood properly.
"Werewolves never smile," Derek says solemnly. "You must always be a foreboding sense of darkness and anger."
The cheerful floppy-haired one actually raises his hand. “But what if we’re happy?”
Derek roars at Scott, flashing his eyes gold, and all three boys flinch back with fear. “How do you expect to strike fear in your enemies with a smile, McCall?” he shouts.
Oh dear God. Isaac is actually taking notes, scribbling down words hastily on a notepad.
Derek has them practice “proper werewolf expressions” for an hour. Boyd is the only successful one to keep a straight face while Scott and Isaac dissolve in to quick giggles after failed attempts to intimidate the other. Derek barely manages to keep a stoic expression because the whole situation is so ridiculous. He’s sure that one of these guys will let the Alpha know that the lessons aren’t quite up to par.
Unfortunately they keep turning up for practice sessions (in matching leather jackets no less), trying their best to earnestly learn all Derek has to teach them.
They don’t question any of it. Not the bunny-chasing (“Be the rabbit. Bounce like the rabbit. Feel the rabbit,” Derek instructed, watching in horror as the boys bounced all over the grassy field), not the theatrical jump lessons, not even the “backflips are essential” day where they did nothing but try to run up the walls and flip, with Derek giving demonstrations every now and then.
No one has asked about how to control their shifts, or about werewolf pack hierarchies, or other supernatural creatures. Derek is a little worried; the full moon is still a few weeks away, surely his mother would have noticed these little delinquents are in no way prepared to control themselves when the night comes? What if they hurt someone, or hurt themselves?
So if Derek actually spends a few afternoons working with Scott, Isaac, and Boyd, slowly testing their control and teaching them patiently how to keep their humanity under the pull of the moon, he doesn’t acknowledge it as really deviating from his plan, not really. And Derek definitely doesn’t feel pride at all when Scott finds a solid anchor for the first time or Isaac doesn’t wolf out accidentally with an adrenaline rush. Nope, Derek is not enjoying being a werewolf mentor at all, not even when Boyd flashes him a shy grin and bumps his fist, eyes brimming with respect.
They pull through their first full moon together with little incident, and Derek suddenly realizes that he hasn’t kept to his plan at all when Laura smiles wickedly at breakfast the next morning.
"Heard your cubs are doing well," Laura coos, pouring the last of Derek’s favorite cereal into her bowl. "Didn’t you turn out to be a great teacher?"
Derek glowers at her.
The next practice session he is determined to have them realize what a terrible teacher he is and comes up with the most ridiculous lesson yet. Surely this will have one of them running to report him and then his duties will be taken away, surely.
They meet out in the grassy field of the Preserve, and Derek levels his eyes at them with mock-seriousness.
"Today I am going to impart on you a great werewolf secret. It is the essence of channeling your power," Derek says slowly, lacing the words with as much grave seriousness as he can.
"The secret to controlling your inner wolf is shirtlessness,” Derek says with sincerity. He rambles on some made-up story about bare skin and wolf powers, and then for emphasis, rips off his own t-shirt and roars impressively.
The woods go silent.
Scott looks at Isaac, who looks at Boyd, who just shrugs and moves to take off his own shirt.
What.
Derek is about to lose it because these teenagers are just following everything he has to say, and they’re all taking off their shirts and waiting patiently for instruction, and Derek can’t take it anymore, when he hears it.
There’s the sound of laughter from the woods. An extra heartbeat in the Preserve, and Derek follows its beat to some nearby shrubbery and pulls another boy out of it.
Derek raises his eye at the newcomer. He looks ridiculous, lanky, wide-eyed and heart pounding away with excitement.
"Omigod, Stiles! What are you doing here?" Scott asks, surprise written all over his face.
Stiles is still laughing, despite Derek holding him by the scruff of his sweatshirt and glaring prominently at him.
"Oh, Scotty, when you told me about your secret werewolf lessons on being a badass, you didn’t tell me about the powers of being topless,” Stiles shrieks, laughter spurting in between his words.
"It’s a real thing," Derek retorts.
"Yeah? What are you gonna do with it? Scare me with your six-pack?"
Derek growls at the boy—Stiles— and then presses him into a nearby tree, eyes gleaming gold and fangs protruding. Most humans would cower right about now, but Stiles instead flicks his (oh, those are a nice honey color) eyes up and down Derek’s bare torso, and then licks his lips slightly, mouth parting open.
"Oh believe me, fear is not the feeling I have right now," Stiles says, smirking at him.
Derek is torn. On one hand, he wanted someone to catch on to the faux lessons he’d be giving to the new betas. On the other, he hadn’t accounted for meeting someone like Stiles.
Derek’s going to have to revise his plan.