Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Scott? Answer your goddamn phone please?"

Stiles was sitting in his Jeep, grappling at his jaw with frustration. This was the fourth time he'd called Scott and still no answer. He looked at his phone, 9%. “Shit,” Stiles hissed quietly. How was he going to get home now?

Leaning his head back against the headrest, Stiles contemplated. Maybe he could call Derek. Derek and Stiles didn’t have the best relationship but they definitely had a connection. Frenemies, maybe, or acquaintances with life-saving benefits. Either way, Derek might be willing help him out of this situation.

Derek answered on the third ring, “What, Stiles?”

“Um, hey buddy ol’ pal. Are you feeling alright, I hope you’re feeling alright. How’s the pac-”

“Why did you call me?”

“Yeah so, my Jeep broke down and I have no clue where I am because, for some reason, this side of town was just like, ‘we don’t need street lights,’ and now I can’t see what the street sign says and-”

“What can you see,” Derek asked, cutting Stiles off again.

“I’m assuming it’s the preserve, probably the other side ‘cause I’m nowhere near your old place.”

“Okay, I’ll see who can come for you; I’m not in town right now.”

“Oh thank you, baby Jesus. Derek, you’re really the best. Thanks so… and my phone is dead. Great.”

It only took ten minutes for Isaac to pull up in that awkward Toyota SUV Derek had bought. Behind him was a tow truck for the shop not too far from Stiles’s house. The blond boy said something to the mechanic before approaching Stiles.

“Alright, so it’s $150 for the tow and an extra $25 because I was at a party.”

Stiles gaped, “$175! Isaac, we both know I don’t have that kind of money.” The Cherub boy just laughed. “I’m joking, I’m joking. Derek said he’d cover it all, but I do want something for the fact that I had to leave that party.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me home, please?”
Isaac watched as the mechanic hooked the Jeep up to the towline and nodded his head towards the SUV.

“Why didn’t you call Scott,” Isaac asked as they drove towards Stiles’s house. Stiles scratched the back of his neck, his anxiety stinking up the car. “I, um, I did call him. He hasn’t been answering me.” Isaac looked confused; Scott ignoring Stiles, that’s impossible. Isaac tried to think of something Stiles had done that would upset Scott, but he came up with blanks. “Do you mind me asking why,” the blond tried. He turned to look at the brunet beside him and was struck by the look of rejection on Stiles’s face.

“I, well we, I told him that…” Stiles tried to even his breathing, slow his heart, calm his nerves. “I,” he started again. “I’m bisexual; I like dudes and girls.” “Okay,” Isaac dragged out, “but what does that have to do with Scott ignoring you.”

“Well, a couple of nights ago…

“What’s up? I left Allison ‘cause you said this was important.” Stiles rolled his eyes. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Scott in while (because of Allison), and now that he was getting that time, his mood was pissy (because of Allison).

“I just wanted to chill, dude. We haven’t had a bros night like this in a while; ya know with Gerard and all that.” Scott sighed, “Yeah, I guess. So you just wanna hang out?” “Well yeah, Scott. It’s been forever. Let’s play some Mario Kart or something.”

The two boys played for a while, joking and getting back into their grove until Scott opened his mouth.

“Dude, why are you always Bowser?”

“Dude, have you seen him. Dude’s hot like burning.”

“But he’s… he.

“Yeah, and? He’s still sexy. There’s this drawing of him as a human, I saw it on twitter, and bro, like burning.”

Scott was shocked. Stiles didn’t like guys, he had the world’s biggest crush on Lydia… a girl. “You’re joking, right? Stiles, he’s a dude, a man. What happened to chicks,” Scott whined. “I still like girls, dude. I’m just saying that it’s no problem to acknowledge that men are mmph.”

“But you can’t like both,” Scott protested.
“Yeah, dude, you definitely can.”

“No, Stiles, you can’t. It’s gross and it’s wrong.”

“Then what are you trying to say? Do you have something against bisexuals?”

“I- I don’t have anything against them, Stiles. I get that they’re just people trying to pick a side but-”

“No one is trying to pick a side, Scott. Being bisexual doesn’t make you confused.”

“It does though. It’s like a phase in life that people go through before they choose to be gay or straight, like college. Or- or it’s just people who wanna be greedy. Like, no one needs to like both genders, bro. It’s not efficient.”

Stiles was fuming. Did Scott really believe this shit? Did Scott just think that Stiles was a confused, greedy whore? Stiles tried to make a plausible argument, but all that came out was a low, hurt “Leave.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Scott. Get out my house.”

“Why are you so upset, dude. I’m just telling the truth.”

“So it’s true that I’m just confused, that ‘Im not fully gay yet. Or am I just a greedy bitch, I just want everybody for myself? Huh, Scott, which one is it,” Stiles shot back.

Everything seemed to click for Scott. Oh. So Stiles… was bisexual. Oh.

“Scott never answered my question. I’ve been trying to call him to settle everything out, but he won’t answer.”

“So you're saying he's ignoring you because you're bisexual?”

“Yep,” Stiles popped the ‘p’.

“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.”

“Tell me about it; it's not even like he's homophobic or has a problem with me liking guys. He's just upset that I like men and women.”

Isaac couldn't believe this. What kind of best friend was Scott; only trash friends abandon each other for little things like this.

After dropping Stiles home, Isaac pulled into Derek's driveway. He had been living with Derek since his father died, and he likes it so much more. In the loft, Derek dropped that “lone wolf” persona and became the type of parental figure Isaac never had. He made sure Isaac ate, felt comfortable, and gave the blond boy almost anything his heart desired. But Derek was still sensible with Isaac; he made sure Isaac stayed out of trouble and respected the people around him. Hopefully, he could do the same with Scott.

“Why are you so upset,” Derek asked as soon as Isaac walked in. The older man could smell the stink of anger and frustration wafting off of the boy. “Scott,” Isaac answered.

“Scott?”

“Yeah, he's ignoring Stiles.” Isaac shrugged off his leather jacket, hanging it in the coat closet by the door, and kicked off his boots.

Derek raised his eyebrow as if asking how that was important to him.

“He's ignoring Stiles because of Stiles’s sexuality. Like, what kind of friend does that?”

Derek was stunned. “Wait, are you saying that Scott didn't notice that Stiles is bi?”

Isaac hummed in agreement, rummaging around in the kitchen.

How could Scott not see that? Stiles spent so much time flirting with everyone and it wasn't hard to notice that he smelt spicy sweet whenever he spoke to someone he was particularly “fond” of. It's easy to see that he wasn't strictly into girls or guys; Scott couldn't be that oblivious. Derek sighed; he didn't really expect much from Scott in the ways of paying attention, not with Allison around.

“What do you think we should do? You spend more time with him than I do, and I feel like we should keep him occupied so he doesn't get too sad,” Isaac suggested, ripping open a pack of pop tarts.

Derek snatched the pop tarts out of Isaac’s hand, pointing to the pan full of stir fry on the stove. “Firstly, eat the food you made me cook. Secondly, I think we should bring Stiles into our pack a bit more.”

Isaac looked shocked. “Bring him into the pack? Why?”

“He's the only reason any of us are alive right now. He's saved all of us time and time again; we don't appreciate him.” Isaac nodded in agreement. “Plus, it seems that we can't trust Scott to appreciate him if he'll let something like sexuality change his relationship with Stiles,” Derek continued.

Chapter Text

Seeing Erica, Boyd, and Isaac at his usual lunch table wasn’t much of a surprise, but Stiles never expected to see Jackson and Lydia sitting there. The brunet wasn’t sure if he should find another table; Derek’s betas were still at the table anyway.

“Are you gonna sit or what,” Jackson practically snarled.

Shaken out of his thought process, Stiles plopped down next to Erica.

“So… what’s up, guys?” Stiles cringed at the crack in his voice.

"Nothing much; what about you," Isaac asked.

Stiles shrugged, waiting for other people to start talking. That didn't happen.

No one spoke for a while, the betas and Stiles just looking back and forth at one another, waiting. It wasn't until Lydia spoke that any conversation moved forward.

“I heard you're bi,” she said plainly. Stiles shrugged, “Yeah, so what?” “Well then, you can't dress like that anymore,” the redhead accosted. “What wrong with the way I dress?” Stiles was offended; he liked his clothes and how they made him feel.

Jackson scoffed and Lydia simply rolled her eyes. “Stiles, honey, everything is wrong with the way you dress. Anyway, I'll be waiting for you after school; we’re going shopping.”

“What, no!”

Stiles was no match for the glare Lydia sent his way.

The shopping trip was just as bad as Stiles anticipated. The pair walked into five different stores, bought seven new pairs of jeans (Stiles believed they were all on the wrong side of skinny), and a shit ton of skin-tight shirts (that have no graphics by the way). In short, Stiles was not happy.

“Are we done?”

Lydia looks at the bags in Stiles’s hands, “Sure, whatever. I’ll be at your house tomorrow to get rid of the bullshit you call your clothes.”

Stiles felt like shit as Lydia rummage through his closet. “This is, literally, all shit,” the redhead hissed. Stiles scrambled to pick up the t-shirts and flannels Lydia was throwing out. He was definitely going to hide his favorites from her. Lydia threw another sweater into the air, “This really needs to go.”

Stiles dropped everything in his hands to catch the worn, red hoodie. The boy gripped the soft material in his hands; the sweater had been his father’s, but his mother was always wearing it before she died. She had given it to Stiles one day when the hospital got too cold for his little body. “To keep you toasty,” she had said.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lydia, I’m not throwing this out. It’s important.”

“It’s an old red hoodie. I get that you’re a human running around with werewolves but, Stiles, you’re no Little Red.”

Stiles’s nostrils flared. First off, that was rude. Secondly, this wasn’t a joke; Lydia should just accept that Stiles wanted to keep the hoodie. But no, Lydia kept pushing.

“Stiles put the sweater down. It’s trash.”

“No, it isn’t. Can’t you just let me keep it? It’s important!”

Lydia reached out, trying to grab the red garment from the boy’s hands. “Give it to me,” the girl seethed. Stiles, like the wolves he spends too much time with, bared his teeth and growled, “No, Lydia! Stop being a little bitch!”

Lydia stepped back instantly. She hadn’t expected Stiles to yell at her over the sweater. Lydia was used to getting what she wanted, especially from guys like Stiles. She was expecting to waltz right into Stiles’s life, change everything, and get what she was aiming for. But Stiles shocked her, as he seemed to be doing a lot recently.

“What’s so special about the damn sweater, Stiles,” the fashionista asked. Lydia watched as Stiles’s expression when dark like he was remembering something sad. It was his mother’s, Lydia thought. Shit.

“I... Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset-”

“No, you just expected me to do whatever you said. Listen, Lydia, I’m not Jackson and I’m definitely not Danny. I’m not a doll for you to dress up and I’m not your new Gay Best Friend. I’m upset because you’re only acknowledging me because of the fact that I like men. I’m also upset that you're changing my style because you don't like it. You’re popular, Lydia, but you’re no Queen.”

Lydia was shocked. No, she was angry. This is not what was supposed to happen; Stiles wasn’t supposed to be over her; Stiles wasn’t supposed to put himself above her. Screwing up her face, Lydia glared at Stiles and walked out of his room.

“Keep the clothes,” she called over her shoulder.

Stiles didn’t keep the clothes. That weekend, he, and (surprisingly) Erica and Isaac, went to the mall to exchange the clothes Lydia bought for clothes Stiles liked. Stiles would say that he was shocked that Erica actually volunteered to come to the mall with him, but with the amount time Derek’s pack has been spending with the human, it made sense.

“I’m sorry about what Lydia did,” Isaac stated. He had been the one that spilled the beans about Stiles’s sexuality. It was obvious that Stiles wasn’t hiding who he was, but Isaac knew that he crossed some sort of line by calling Stiles out.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles reassured. “You didn’t force her into my house, dude.”

That didn’t make Isaac feel any better.

Erica won’t lie, shopping with Stiles is a goddamn blast. Luckily for them, Lydia paid for all the bullshit she bought with cash. You know what that means... CASH REFUNDS!!! Over $350 of pure cash money.

The group of three stayed in Macy’s to grab a handful of John Ashford flannels (“What? They’re my favorite) before moving on to Hot Topic.

“There’s a SALE!” Erica practically sprinted into the small shop, almost diving into the Boku No Hero Academia section. The blonde grabbed three T-shirts (buy one get two 50% off), and a POP! Funko figure of Midoriya.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t I the one who should be grabbing things by the truckload?” Erica shrugged, looking at Isaac for help.

Let’s just say that Stiles lost his battle against the blond boy’s puppy-dog eyes.

The fun and games ended when the trio stumbled into the mall’s cafeteria, the werewolves laden with bags upon bags. Scott was there, arm wrapped around Allison’s shoulders.

Stiles’s scent went sour as soon as he saw the other boy, breaths coming out as pants. Erica and Isaac turned to face the brunet, alerted by the change in Stiles’s heart rate. The two blondes quickly steered the boy away from his former best friends and into a Wendy’s booth.

Erica didn’t know what to do; she had never had a panic attack. She felt useless as she watched stiles silently cry and hyperventilate.

Isaac, on the other hand, was fussing around, telling Stiles to copy his breathing. Isaac remembered what it was like when he first moved in with Derek. The boy was constantly panicked, but Derek helped him through the attacks. Isaac thought about any techniques that would help Stiles recover. He knew that having Derek focus him on an object helped him draw back focus; maybe that would help Stiles.

“Stiles, Stiles! I need you to focus, okay? Look at me.”

The panicked boy looked up at Isaac boy, eyes wet and face pale. “Look around the room and tell me one thing you can hear.” Isaac watched as his friend close his eyes in a struggle to focus, “Uh, um. I can hear the lady calling out for free samples.” Isaac nodded, “Okay, okay; tell me what you can smell.” The blond watched as Stiles’s brows creased probably trying to pick a distinct smell. “The, uh, what is that? Oh! Someone, someone close to us has coffee.” Isaac hummed assuringly. “Last one now,” he started. “Tell me what you see.”

Stiles opened his eyes and looked right up at Isaac. Taking in Isaac’s reassuring look, the brunet took a deep breath. “I see you.”

Isaac smiled; Stiles’s heart rate had slowed to its normal rabbiting pace and the stink of anxiety was replaced with the tangy scent of embarrassment. The blond pulled Stiles into a hug, just like Derek did for him.

After seeing Stiles in a panic, Erica insisted they leave. “No, we were having fun; that’s not gonna stop now.” The blonde opened her mouth to argue but stopped when Isaac flashed his eyes at her. “He wants to stay with us,” the boy said low enough for only Erica to hear. The girl rolled her eyes but didn’t object again.

With that, Erica took it upon herself to get the gang some food.

“What’cha want?”

“Some curly fries would be nice.”

Erica glared at Stiles. There were at least three places in the mall’s cafeteria that sold curly fries. Picking up on Erica’s annoyance, Isaac spoke up. “He likes the fries from Arby’s; the ones that with the Chicken Sandwich meal.” Erica pursed her lips, unhappy with the fact that Isaac knew Stiles better than she did.

Getting on the line at the Arby’s, Erica started plotting on how to get to know Stiles better.

Chapter Text

So… Erica was clueless; she had no clue how to get to know Stiles better. “Maybe you should just go chill with him,” Boyd had offered, but Boyd hadn’t made any move to befriend Stiles so Erica didn’t really think he had a good plan.

That was until Isaac agreed. He seemed to be the only pack member, besides Derek (who randomly decides to stalk the kid), that actually checked in on Stiles consistently. “You should definitely try to hang out with him. I know you both like that show about the brothers who hunt supernatural creatures; maybe you can start there,” the blond suggested.

“Yeah, but I can’t just creep into his house like Derek and start up a conversation about Dean Winchester’s freckles,” Erica countered. She scowled as Isaac sighed dramatically. “I didn’t mean at his house; talk to him at school. We see him every day, Erica.” Erica thought about it. Isaac was right; the pack did see Stiles every day. Since Scott had stopped talking to him, Stiles didn’t really hang out with anyone else sans Isaac (who had clung to Stiles like a lost child, thirsty for a caring touch). School seemed to be the best place to approach Stiles; it wasn’t a place he could be trapped or cornered in.

Erica finally nodded. “I’ll talk to him at school,” the blonde girl declared.

It took Erica two days to build up enough courage to approach Stiles. When she had been human, Erica was practically in love with Stiles. He always helped her with work when she went to the library for extra help, and he never made fun of her when she seized. He was her knight in shining armor and just the thought of approaching him about something personal brought back the butterflies in her stomach. Don’t get her wrong, Erica didn’t feel like that about Stiles anymore, but she felt like she was playing with a live wire, one wrong move and she’d be electrocuted by Stiles’s anger.

“Hey, Stiles.”

“Oh, uh hey, Erica. What’s up.” Stiles was leaned up against the wall by his first-period class, backpack hanging off of one shoulder.

“Nothing much, just wanted to say hi.” Erica watched as Stiles raised an eyebrow at her as if he knew she was up to something.

“Okay, okay. I wanted to know if you saw last night’s episode of Supernatural; Isaac said you loved the show.” Stiles’s scent shifted to a happier note, teeming with excitement. “Of course I saw it. Oh my goodness, did you see the was Dean looked? He’s so hot,” Stiles gushed. “Oh my God, I did. That Jensen Ackles is really something,” Erica squealed.

The conversation quickly shifted from Supernatural to Sherlock to Harry Potter to Marvel. Erica felt proud of herself; she and Stiles had a lot in common and she hoped they can build a real friendship out of that.

Stiles’s relatively good week had come to a head.

“Stiles, come sit with me at the table,” the Sheriff called. Stiles wondered what his father could possibly want. Well, it was his first day off in about a month, so many the Sheriff wanted to just hang out with his son. Or … Or maybe the Sheriff found about Stiles’s sexuality and was going to kick him out.

The brunet took a deep breath and made his way down the stairs. “Yeah, Pops?”

“Come, come sit.”

Stiles did.

“So… how’s work?” “It’s pretty good. Not a lot of new cases, but this is Beacon Hills so I don’t really expect any.” The Sheriff paused, scratching his chin. “So… uh, how has school been, any problems?”

Stiles raised a brow, “No, why would there be?” The Sheriff twiddled with his fingers. “It’s just that I haven’t seen Scott around in a while. Wanted to know if there was any reason behind.” The boy scratched the nape of his neck. “Yeah, about that. Scott and I aren’t really talking so much anymore. He doesn’t agree with something I’m super passionate about, so we’ve kinda fizzled out as friends,” Stiles explained.

The Sheriff nodded twice, not wanting to dig any deeper into something that seemed to be really aggravating his son. “So, have you been talking to anyone else? Mrs. Neal, next door, said something about a blond kid coming over.”

“Uh, yeah; that’s Isaac. He was Mr. Lahey’s son. With his father dying and all, he’s been staying with a friend of his; he comes over for some home-cooked meals every once in a while.”

The Sheriff smiles; he had been worried that Stiles wasn’t going to make friends and it was going to be like elementary school all over again.

“Stiles! Stiiiles!”

Claudia couldn’t find her son. She had come to pick him up from junior lacrosse practice, but the small boy was nowhere to be found. Claudia raked her hands down her face; where could he have gone?

Claudia stopped for a moment, taking her time to look around the elementary school parking lot. Claudia eliminated the chance of him going home; it was a 25-minute walk from the school to their house and on Stiles’s tiny feet, it’d be even longer. Plus, she would have seen him while she was driving.

She also crossed out the playground; Stiles wasn’t very fond of talking to the other children in his grade.

That only left the patch of woods behind the school. Claudia shot off towards the woods, calling out her son’s name. She found him, still in his little lacrosse uniform, duct-taped to a tree. The little boy’s face was tomato red, streaked with tears. “Mama,” he called out when he saw her. “Mom! You gotta get me out.”

Claudia almost started crying herself. Pulling out a pocket knife, the woman cut her son free, pulling him into a hug as quickly as she could.

“I’m so sorry, kochanie. I’m so, so sorry.” Stiles just hugged her and cried some more.

When Claudia told John that story, the man was heartbroken. He didn’t want his son to feel alone again, and knowing that someone is making sure of that after Scott bailed on Stiles made the Sheriff smile.

“Alright, kid. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Stiles smiled at his father, “Yeah, Dad. I’m doing pretty good.”

It’s been a week since the whole impromptu shopping trip with Erica and Isaac, and things are going pretty good. Boyd had actually started to talk to Stiles (they mainly just talked about Erica’s lack of boundaries), and the group had planned to hang out at Derek’s place this Saturday.

Stiles wasn’t too sure about how he felt about being in Derek’s loft. Derek and Stiles didn’t really have the best relationship, and with all the werewolf sniffing and shit, Stiles isn’t too sure if Derek wants Stiles’s scent mixing with his pack’s scent. Erica had said it was fine, but she said a lot of things to see Stiles and Derek argue.

Saturday afternoon Stiles couldn’t help but feel nervous Why, he wasn’t really sure. Stiles had been to Derek’s place before, back when the brooding man had first purchased it. Sure, he hadn’t gone farther than the loft’s depressingly bare first floor, but he’d been there. “This isn’t anything new,” Stiles muttered, trying to reassure himself.

Stiles’s panic party was swiftly interrupted by a text from Isaac.

At Derek’s place. When are you coming?

Just got in my car, OMW

Stiles threw on his prized red hoodie and made his way to his car.

Isaac heard the rumble of Stiles’s Jeep before it pulled up to the curb. The puppy-like blond made his way down the spiral steps, excited to see Stiles.

Isaac didn’t want to say that he was clinging to Stiles, but he was. It had been a while since someone had cared for him the way Stiles did. Sure, Derek was great; the older man was finally falling into his role as Alpha and was doing wonders for Isaac’s self-esteem and mental health. But Stiles, Stiles was different. Stiles easily saw through both Isaac and Erica’s post-bite bravados. Stiles understood Isaac’s trauma and did his best to make sure Isaac never felt pressured in any way. It took a moment to realize, but Stiles had stepped in as somewhat of a mother figure to Isaac: the opposite of Derek but still just as caring.

While Isaac was daydreaming about whatever he was thinking about, Boyd made his way into the (still very bare) kitchen. The teen pulled open the oven and grabbed the trays of pizza. He was placing them on the counter when he heard the door open. The smell of Stiles, all Adderall-tainted spice, filled the loft.

“How-” was all Boyd got out before Stiles waved an obnoxiously full set of keys in his general direction.

“Does Derek -” Isaac started. “Big Man has no idea I have these, but hey, he isn’t the only one,” Stiles replied.

Boyd shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Only Stiles would have a copy of everyone’s keys, the little creep.

“So, where’s Catwoman, Stiles asked, changing the subject.

“On her way.”

“And Mr. Sourwolf himself?”

“At Deaton’s; he’s trying to figure out what to do with Jackson now that he isn’t an evil lizard anymore.”

Stiles nodded a bit dumbly before suggesting they wait for Erica to show up before they start with the pizza and movies

Chapter Text

Derek leaned his head back against the rounded edge of the tub. He took a deep breath, breathing in the sweet smell of citrus rising from the bath water. The man couldn’t be happier that Isaac got him a bunch of Lush bubble bars as a gag gift.

Sadly Derek’s peace of mind was rudely interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone. The wolf stretched forward, grabbing the phone with his dry hand.  Stiles’s names blinked across the screen and Derek rolled his eyes. What could this kid want now?

“What, Stiles?”

Instantly the boy began rambling about nonsense. Derek groaned, urging Stiles to get to the point. Derek heard the words, “my Jeep broke down” and wanted to cry. He didn’t want to leave his bath, he just got in.

“Okay, I’ll see who can come for you; I’m not in town right now,” he lied easily. The call cut off right in the middle of Stiles’s extensive thanks.

Derek did feel bad for lying to Stiles, but he was busy. With the bullshit Scott had pulled with Gerard, Jackson no longer being a murderous lizard, and Boyd and Erica wanting to leave, Derek was just overwhelmed. He needed to relax, so he called Isaac.

When the boy answered the phone, Derek could hear the bass of club music feed through the receiver.

“I need you to get Stiles.”

“What?”

“Get. Stiles.”

“C’mon, Derek. I’m trying to-”

“He’s probably somewhere around Anderson street. Don’t make him wait too long.”

“Aww, you care about your boy,” Isaac teased. Derek just rolled his eyes before repeating the order.

“Fine, fine, but I want stir-fry in exchange. Extra beef.”

When Isaac came home, Derek was still soft and pliant from his bath; he was relaxing in the sparse kitchen, making the Stir Fry Isaac had asked for. The blond wolf, however, smelt like was fuming. Derek, looked up from his book, “Why are you so upset?”

“Scott.”

“Scott,” Derek inquired. The question spurred Isaac into a full rant about Scott’s assholery and his mistreatment of Stiles.

Derek knew he was being a bit hypocritical when as he thought about the whole “mistreating Stiles” thing. Neither he or his pack had been the nicest to Stiles, but maybe Derek could change that. He could bring Stiles into his pack, take care of the boy, get him to notice how much he meant to the wolves.

It didn’t take long for Derek to realize that Isaac had actually listened to him when he suggested befriending Stiles. The dark-haired man originally thought Isaac would laugh his comment off, but when the blond came home smelling like Stiles and contentment, Derek knew Isaac had actually made a move.

“How was your day,” Derek asked as he unpacked a reusable tote full of groceries. Isaac shrugged, “Nothing really happened. Took a test in Chemistry, though.” Derek nodded thoughtfully.

“How do you think you did?” Derek turned to put a jar of organic strawberry jam into the fridge.

“Pretty good, actually; Stiles’s been tutoring me for a couple weeks and I finally think I understand equilibrium and balancing equations,” Isaac said more excitedly, pushing some hair out of his face. “That’s great,” Derek smiled, ruffling Isaac’s curls. He needs a haircut, Derek noted. Isaac just frowned and tried to fix the mess on his head.

Derek watched as his beta splayed some notes out on the countertop. History. Derek knew Isaac struggled with the subject, so he abandoned his groceries in favor of sitting across from the boy. Isaac smiled up at his alpha, happy to be getting the help he needed.

A few days after that, both Isaac and Erica came into the loft smelling of Stiles and a strange muddle of unhappy emotions. Boyd was kind of just with them. Derek simply patted the stool next to him. Isaac bypassed the stool to stand pressed to Derek’s side, needing the comfort, but Erica plopped down onto the seat.

When Erica sat, Derek didn't really know where to go with his questions. With Isaac it was different; the two related on multiple levels about a shit load of issues, but Erica, she was almost nothing like Derek. The wolf mulled about what he could ask, how he could get the conversation started, but Erica took it upon herself to start talking.

“How do I get Stiles to like me,” she asked nervously.

Dere raised a ridiculously thick eyebrow at the girl as if to say “ I still haven’t learned to do that .” Erica just sighed.

“Maybe you should just go chill with him,” Boyd had offered. Erica shrugged, leaning her head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek drifted in and out of the conversation, focused more solely on the book he was reading. That was until he heard his name.

Yeah, but I can’t just creep into his house like Derek and start up a conversation about Dean Winchester’s freckles.” Derek shot a look at Erica but did nothing to refute that he creeped on Stiles. To be honest, Derek did creep on Stiles, like a lot. It started off as making sure the boy and Scott didn’t do anything stupid, but as things got more dangerous (and Stiles became more of an ally than anything), Derek just wanted to be sure that Stiles was safe.

Derek focused back in on his book as his betas hatched out a plan to get Erica and Stiles to become friends. It all brought a smile to the man’s face; he liked that his pack was making an effort to get to know Stiles, something that he should start doing too.

Derek sat in Deaton’s office, Jackson in the seat next to him. Deaton was finishing up with his last patient of the night, a dachshund with an ear infection by the sound of it.

“So… why are we here,” Jackson asked.

Derek sat up straighter, looking at the new werewolf. “We need to make sure the kanima won’t return. I just have a few questions for Deaton, don’t worry about it.” Jackson, being the way he was, didn’t listen and the scent of worry flooded the room. All Derek could do was groan.

It was another 20 minutes before the dachshund and the stubby man that accompanied it left. Deaton casually pulled off his blue rubber gloves before acknowledging the Alpha and beta.

“Derek, Jackson; follow me to the back?”

Derek went in first, Jackson trailing behind him. Time to get some questions answered.

Derek could smell Stiles before he and Jackson even got into the building. As they got closer, Jackson cringed at the sound of Stiles’s voice. “Why is Stilinski here,” the boy asked rudely. Derek glared at the beta and pushed him towards the elevator door without an answer.

If Derek lied, he would say that the intensity of Stiles’s scent mixed with the scent of Derek and Pack didn’t affect him. But, obviously, that would be a lie because Derek’s mouth practically started to water. The scent of it all reminded the wolf of before the fire, when he and his siblings and his cousins would fool around in the living room while his parents cozied up in the kitchen where they could sneak kisses. It smelt like home, and Derek wanted to cry about it.

He didn’t obviously, just pushed Jackson into the loft and made a bee line for his chair. If Stiles just happened to be perched on the arm, that wasn’t anyone’s business.

“So,” Derek started, getting right to business, “Jackson is now a werewolf and has zero chance of becoming a full Kanima again.” The boy in question waved an uninterested hand from behind the couch when the group turned to look at him. “The only thing is that he needs to join a pack to make sure he doesn’t lose control,” the alpha continued. Stiles nodded, and Derek could practically see the boy’s brain digesting the information.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles mumbled.

“Wait!”

Every head in the room snapped to look at Stiles. “What do you mean by full Kanima?”

Derek pursed his lips; he had been hoping no one caught onto that part, but of course Stiles did. Derek scratched at the nape of his neck, trying to find the words to explain but Stiles kept talking. “Does he still have the tail, or is it the venom, or is it both? Oh my holy god above, is it both?”

Derek nodded sheepishly and watched as Stiles proceeded to lose his shit. Jackson rolled his eyes, completely unimpressed with Stiles.

The group (read Stiles) continued to talk about the possibilities that would come with having a werewolf/kanima hybrid in the pack, but only if “Jackass actually wants to be a part of our little rag-tag team, that is.” Jackson scoffed out a laugh but tried to hide it. He claimed that he was going to give the whole pack a test trial, but Derek knew Jackson was going to love being part of the Hale pack, especially of Stiles had something to do with it.

Chapter Text

Jackson pursed his lips as Lydia spoke. “I don’t know why he thinks he can just treat me like that, Jackson. I’m Lydia fucking Martin; people like Stiles don’t treat me like that.”

She still wasn’t over Stiles standing up to her, despite the fact that it had been almost a month ago. In that time, Jackson trained with Derek and his pack (including Stiles). The blond had learned that Stiles actually wasn’t that bad; the boy took care of the pack, made them food, kept them on track with school work. Stiles was what Isaac liked to call the “Pack Mom” and he didn’t deserve any shit from Lydia.

The blond rolled his eyes, fed up with his girlfriend’s nonsense. He wanted nothing more than to tell her to shut the fuck up but didn’t want to jeopardize his relationship for Stiles’s sake.

The next time Jackson saw Stiles, he felt a bit guilty. Lydia was standing in front of the boy, ranting about how rude he was, and how he needed to check himself. Everyone in the hall was looking at them, some people recording it on their phones. This was all his fault; when Lydia was ranting, he did the bored boyfriend thing and simply agreed with everything she said. It wasn’t until he was leaving her house did he realize Lydia planned to confront Stiles at school the next morning.

Jackson felt himself fill up with anger. What shocked him was that he wasn’t angry with Stiles; he was angry with Lydia. How dare she put him on the spot like that, a voice in Jackson’s head demanded. She’s made him vulnerable, we have to protect him.

Going on instinct alone, Jackson stormed up to his girlfriend and pack mate. He grabbed Lydia by the arm, pulling her away from Stiles’s angry, red face. “What the hell are you doing, Lydia,” he hissed. The red-head looked up at her boyfriend, shocked. “Let’s go; there are people recording and we need to talk about this. Now!” Lydia couldn’t do anything but follow her angry boyfriend into the nearest empty classroom.

“What the actual fuck was that, Lydia,” Jackson exploded once the door was closed. “You let your emotions bubble up for a month — a goddamned month — over nothing. All Stiles did was stand up to a self-righteous bully who wanted to use him to look cool. How would you feel if I only dated you to look better?”

“I wouldn’t really care; it is what I’m doing to you, isn’t it?”

Jackson jerked his head back, “Excuse me. You’re doing what now?”

“Dating you to stay popular. I know I’m the shit, but without a lug-nut jock for a boyfriend I’m just the smart rich girl.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Jackson could feel his heart breaking. He had actually loved Lydia, wanted to be with her as long as he could. I guess it wasn’t as long as he expected.

The blond mentally shook his head, he didn’t need this right now. “Fine, you can just be the smart rich girl.”

Jackson stormed out of the room as the first bell rang.

Time for class.

Stiles had never been so close to hitting anyone, much less a woman. Lydia was ranting about when he called her out on her bullshit almost a month ago. He had let the girl talk, wanting to get her out of his face as quickly as possible, but she didn't seem to shut up. That was until Jackson grabbed her and dragged her off. Stiles can’t say he was unaffected by this; he stood there for an extra minute before Boyd came over and snapped him back to reality.

“What was that about?”

“Bullshit high school drama, don’t worry about it.

For the rest of the day, however, Stiles could only think about Jackson. He had seen the boy walk out of an empty classroom looking like he was going to cry. Now Stiles and Jackson weren’t on the level of intimacy like Stiles and the rest of the betas were, so Stiles tried not to pry into what had happened between the lacrosse co-captain and his girlfriend.

Instead, Stiles waited until after school to take a trip to the diner off 5th street. He knew that Jackson loved the steak and potatoes from the small mom&pop shop, and if it would make Jackson just a smidge happier, it wasn’t a waste of money.

On his way back to his car, Stiles’s phone buzzed.

My place after practice.

Stiles frown at Derek’s lack of emojis. That man needs more emotions , Stiles thought as he climbed into his Jeep. The message wasn't in the group chat, so Stiles assumed it was just for him. Why would Derek want to see me alone? Stiles’s teenage brain seemed to have many ideas about that.

The boy ran a hand over his face, trying to calm the blush that had taken over his cheeks.

Is anyone else there?

No.

Was it a date? Stiles bit his lip, trying to contain all the feelings. “Breathe, Stiles, just breathe,” he said to himself.

You see, Stiles had always had a thing for Derek. As he spent more time with the pack, and consequently with Derek, Stiles learned that there’s more to the man than good looks. What shocked Stiles most of all was how sweet Derek was with Isaac. Derek helped Isaac with any and everything, and it all made Stiles’s heart swell.

just give me a sec. Gotta give something to Jacks.

He’d kill you if he knew that’s what you call him.

Stiles walked into the locker room as if he never stopped coming to lacrosse practice. He did his best to avoid Scott and find Jackson at the same time. The latter was sitting on a bench, chatting away with a shirtless Danny.

“Uh… um, hey. I just wanted to give you this. You looked a bit upset today… I hope this, uh… makes it better.” Stiles softly jostled the take-out box in his hand.

Jackson seemed shocked that Stiles knew that he was upset. Stiles had just said that he noticed that Jackson wasn’t as much of an ass as he usually was. Jackson scoffed, “Of course, that’s what you noticed.” Stiles just laughed and handed Jackson the take-out box. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but know that I’m here if you need me. Pack mom and all.” Jackson rolled his eyes, but Stiles could tell that he was happier than he had been all day.

It wasn’t until he was in his car that he got a text from Jackson.

Thanks for the food.

How’d you know it’s my favorite?

I’m pack mom silly :P

Jackson smiled down at his phone, holding the take-out box tighter. Jackson couldn’t lie, he was starting to see Stilinski’s appeal. The teen was attentive, caring, and overall motherly. He practically oozed love and protection, and that made Jackson feel a bit warm inside. Sadly, Jackson’s fuzzy feelings were interrupted by McCall and his nosiness.

“What’s that,” the dark-hair boy asked.

“Food.”

“Obviously, but who got it for you?”

Jackson didn’t know how to answer that. He knew, from hanging out with the pack, that McCall was to be avoided for some reason, but he didn't know what for. It definitely had something to do with Stilinski because if McCall got too close to the pale spaz, the other betas seemed to form a barricade between the two. Maybe he could find out why.

“Stilinski got it for me, why?”

“You’ve been hanging out with Stiles?” Scott sounded disgusted, and honestly, it shocked the hell out of both Jackson and Danny. “Yeah, what’s the problem with that,” Jackson sneered. Scott just screwed up his face, “Do whatever you want, but when it comes down to picking a side, don’t count on him.” Jackson had no idea what that meant; Stiles was extremely loyal and dependable. What the hell did McCall mean?

As Jackson racked his brain for an answer, Danny finished getting dressed and pulled his best friend out of the locker room. Jackson dropped the other boy at his house before making his way to the preserve. He parked his car on the side of the road and pulled out the food Stiles had bought.

A half-hour later, Jackson sat in his Porsche, stomach full of the steak and potatoes Stiles had gotten him. The blond refused to bring it home, where his “mother” would criticize his food choice, and he couldn’t stay on the lacrosse field unless he wanted to be stared at.

The thought of criticism brought Jackson down a darker path. The teen sat back and let his mind wander to Lydia. That evil, conniving bitch. She had been using him all this time; she didn’t even like him. Jackson felt a wave of disgust crash over him as he thought of all the sex they had — was she even a willing participant in that, did she actually want to sleep with him?

The lacrosse co-captain sighed, feeling distraught. He’d talk to Stiles about this later.

“Dahdahdah Dee-rek Hay-yal,” Stiles yelled as he walked into the loft. He knew that Derek hated it when he did stupid stuff like Wrestling entrances, but you can’t lie — it’s funny.

Derek looked up from his book and frowned. “Why?” Stiles just laughed.

“What’cha need, dude?’

“Firstly, don’t call me dude,” Derek said lightly. Stiles waved his hands dismissively before flopping upside down onto the couch, head hanging off of the cushions. “So… what’d ya’ call me for?”

Derek sat up straighter and put down his book. Stiles took this as a queue to correct his posture as well; okay, this was a serious conversation.

“I wanted to talk about your role in the pack.” Stiles nodded, encouraging Derek to continue. The man took a deep breath, and Stiles may or may not have watched his Adam's apple bob at the action.

“You’ve taken on a very important role in my pack, Stiles,” Derek began, leaning forward so that he was as close to Stiles as he could be without switching seats. “You take care of the betas and you give them a sense of family that I know I can’t provide on my own. I… it’s just that my dad, ironically, was the Pack Mom. He took care of us; he made dinner, he packed our lunches in the morning, but he wasn’t just some pack nanny. He was out emotional strength where my mother was our physical strength. My father made sure that each of us felt loved and cared for and — my father did the most for his family and I’m so grateful that you’re doing it for our pack.”

Stiles smiled at Derek’s words. The brunet has grateful that he was even included in Derek’s pack, especially after everything Scott had pulled on the alpha. Stiles was sure to tell Derek that much. “The fact that you see me as a vital part of your pack just puts me on top of the world, man. A little over a month ago, I was wallowing over Scott but you and your pack helped me to realize that I’m over Scott. Here I am with a pack that actually cares about me as a person and, and I think I should be thanking you, Derek.”

“I guess we’ve both gained something from this,” Derek said with a smile. Stiles smiled right back, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Derek couldn’t hide the flush on his cheeks when Stiles smiled at him. God, what was wrong with him; Stiles was still in high school. This had to wait, just like everything Derek’s wanted in life.

Chapter Text

Stiles is standing in the kitchen, pale, dexterous fingers laying the sheet of green marzipan over top the Prinsesstarta. He’s older now, fickle white hairs monopolizing his temples and smile lines evident on his face. As he goes to grab the knife to trim the excess marzipan, strong, hairy arms wrap around his waist. Kisses are peppered onto his nape before his captor moves to plant a kiss on his cheek. Stiles lets out a little laugh as he continues to work on the ever-complicated Prinsesstarta. “What can I do for you, love,” he asks softly. The man pressed to his back just hums as if he’s thinking of what Stiles can help him with. “I was thinking,” the man starts, “that we could skip the cake; run off for a while. The party doesn’t start for another hour.”

Stiles turns in his captor’s arms and looks into those green-hazel eyes. He smirks and presses a kiss to the stubble of Derek’s cheek. “I’d love to, but this party is too important. Erica and Boyd aren’t going to have another 15 th anniversary, Der.” “That’s what you said for their tenth anniversary,” Derek whines. Stiles rolls his eyes but kisses the pout off of Derek’s lips anyway. He’s about to promise Derek all night access after the party when a teenaged girl walks into the kitchen.

She looks like Claudia: long, coiling brown hair, a bubbly aura about her, pouty, pink lips, and that upturned nose. She different, however. She has this body language just screams HALE and eyes are just as striking as Derek’s. “Tata, Uncle Isaac and Uncle Jackson are here.” The news seems to make Derek deflate. “We’re gonna finish this later.”

Stiles shot up out of his bed, feeling strangely uneasy. What the fuck had that been? The boy looked around, trying to find anything that could connect to his dream, but he came up with nothing. What the literal fuck was that? Never in Stiles seventeen years of living did he have a dream about being married to someone. Sure, he fantasized about Lydia but he never dreamt about simply living with her; there had always been a sexual component. This dream, while it definitely hinted to a rampant night of sex, didn’t even flash an inch of skin.

Stiles scratched at the underside of his jaw as he turned to look at his digital alarm clock. It wasn’t too early — the boy would have to wake up in thirteen minutes to get ready for school. Stiles decided he’d just get up now and eat a bigger breakfast since he had some time.

Being surrounded by pack still took some getting used to. Stiles had gone from waiting around for Scott to want to hang out with him to sitting with the most popular kid at school come lunch time. It was a drastic change for Stiles, especially the hanging out with Jackson part. If, four years ago, you had told Stiles that he would be practically best friends with not only Jackson Whittemore but Isaac Lahey as well, Stiles would have flailed out a laugh and never would have spoken to you again. But here he was, eating lunch with Jackson on his left and Isaac pressed to his right. Erica and Boyd sat across from him, Boyd’s arm wrapped around Erica’s shoulders.

Stiles couldn’t believe this was his life now, and it seemed like others couldn’t either. Many of his peers spent whole minutes just staring at Stiles with confusion and disbelief. Even when Stiles caught them staring, they refused to look away. Like now, Heather — one of Stiles’s pre-Scott friends — was making direct, unwavering eye contact with him. She hadn’t talked to him since the almost getting sacrificed fiasco during junior year, so Stiles was a bit unnerved by the stare.

After a while, Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He stood up as quickly as he could, accidentally jostling Isaac and made his way towards Heather’s table.

“What?” Heather looked up at Stiles, face red, but stayed quiet. “Why are you watching me, Heather?”

“Is it true,” she asked instead. Stiles raised an eyebrow; what the hell was she talking about? Stiles asked her just that much and was shocked to find out that he was now the center of a wild rumor. “Everyone’s been saying that you’ve been fucking around with those kids and that’s why Jackson left Lydia for you.”  “Who told you this?” “Greenberg. He said that Scott was fuming about you slutting around with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd. The Lydia/Jackson thing came from one of the girls in my chemistry class.”

Stiles couldn’t believe this. The boy hoped that the rumor hadn’t spread too far, but was proven wrong on his way to the bathroom, by Greenburg of all people. Stikes was bent over the small ceramic sink, trying to wash away his embarrassment when he heard the door swing open. The brunet looked up, shocked to see Greenberg so close to him. The other boy looked angry as he advanced in Stiles, pushing him up into the space between two sinks. “Whoa! Whoa! Greenberg, what are you doing?”

“You think you can just fuck your way to the top? Huh, Stilinski! You think that presenting ass up is gonna make people like you?” Stiles didn’t know what to do; Greenberg had never been aggressive with him. Stiles thought they had bonded over their lack of lacrosse skills but he seemed to be wrong. “Dude, I’m not-” “Shut up, you fucking slut,” Greenberg hissed as he pushed closer to Stiles. Stiles felt obscene amounts of fear flood him as Greenberg pushed his forearm to Stiles’s throat and a thigh between his legs. Stiles tried to squeeze his thighs closed, but Greenberg gave him a quick knee to the balls to stop him. “What, you’re not gonna open up for me; am I not popular enough?” Stiles felt disgusted but racked his brain for a way out of this. Being the leanly muscled kid that he was, Stiles lacked the upper body strength needed to push Greenberg away, but running track (and running from monsters) had helped him build up strength in his legs. So with a jerk, Stiles pulled his knee up with all his might.

Greenberg’s yelp could probably be heard from the hallway. Stiles didn’t care, though. He made a mad dash for the doors, trying to get as far away from Greenberg as possible. Desperate to get somewhere safe, Stiles jumped into his jeep and floored it.

Stiles wasn’t too shocked when he found himself parked outside of Derek’s loft. The boy had come to terms with the fact that Derek made him feel safe. Derek had proved time and time again that Stiles could trust him; Stiles hoped that the sentiment still carried. The boy scoped out the area before coming out of his Jeep, somewhat paranoid.

Chapter Text

As soon as Stiles opened the loft door, he could hear Derek’s voice, “Who are- Stiles?” Stiles, at first, was confused; why wouldn’t Derek be able to smell that it was him. But suddenly, Stiles was washed with the day’s events. The boy swallowed thickly. “Why aren’t you in school,” Derek asked The boy shuffled on his feet but didn’t answer. He had no idea what to say; was he just going to spill everything out the guy? Shit , what was he even doing at Derek’s loft in the first fucking place?

Trying to get a hold of himself, Stiles leaned against the wall by the door, pressing his forehead to the cold surface. He took a deep breath and shuddered softly. “Stiles?” Stiles could hear the worry in Derek’s voice and raised his head.

“What happened?”

The concern in Derek’s eyes was almost overwhelming. He seemed to care so much about Stiles, something Scott almost never did even when they were friends. The teen choked out a sob and pushed himself into Derek’s arm. Derek, unfazed by the physical contact, ushered Stiles to his neatly made bed. He gripped Stiles by the shoulders, forcing him to look into Derek’s eyes, and repeated his question. Stiles took a breath before stubbing over the incident, He watched Derek’s eyes go wide with shock before settling on anger. “I-i don’t even know what I did to him. He kept talking about me slutting it up to get popular but I’m still a virgin. I’ve- I’ve never.” Stiles let out another choked sound before pressing his face back into Derek’s neck. Derek rubbed soothingly at his back, almost rocking him to sleep. Stiles took one last heaving breath, pulling Derek’s leather and forest scent in before his eyes fluttered closed.

Boyd would have to say that Stiles was his favorite member of the pack. The teen seemed to radiate this nurturing but quirky energy that reminded Boyd of both his grandmother and his sister. So it was wasn’t weird that it was Boyd noticed a shift in Stiles’s usually happy scent at lunch that day. What was weird was the shift itself. The group had been sitting at their usual table, naturally encasing Stiles in a protective circle, when it happened. The pale boy looked up and his scent took a sour turn; he was nervous. Without moving his arm from around Erica’s shoulders, Boyd followed Stiles line of vision. He was met with the image of that girl that had found in the woods. The taller boy wasn’t shocked when Stiles shot out of his seat like a bullet to go talk to her.

Stiles had talked about her some after the Darach mess. He explained how they were friends before he met Scott. From what Stiles said, she was sweet and outgoing but respected boundaries and tried her best to be on good terms with everyone. Isaac coined the phrase “the girl version of Danny”  for her. Boyd remembered when Stiles told him about how his friendship with Scott changed his life. In the beginning, Stiles had been so happy that Scott wasn’t being bullied as much because of him that he began to spend all his time protecting the other boy. Sadly, this caused a large chunk of Stiles’s friends to stop hanging out with him. They didn’t Scott was a cool as Stiles thought he was, so they decided that if Stiles was with Scott, they just would hang out with him. Stiles said that was his new lack of friends that made him so dependant on Scott; he needed someone who would pay attention to him when his father was at work, especially with the death of his mother.

Heather, however, still talked to Stiles every now and then. Stiles revealed that they weren’t as close as they once were, but they really never stopped talking. So Boyd was definitely shocked when Stiles went over to hiss at the girl. The teen listened in on his packmate’s conversation, learning about Scott crude rumors. As Stiles rushed off, Boyd went to go follow but was stopped by Erica. “You following him to the bathroom won’t help with that rumor,” she whispered; she had been listening in too.

Soon, the bell rung, announcing the end of the period. The pack grabbed their things, but it was when Boyd saw Isaac holding Stiles’s bag that the teen realized that Stiles hadn’t come back.  He asked the other boy about it and learned that Stiles had gone to Derek’s place. He was safe, but he wouldn’t be coming back to the school to get his stuff, so Derek asked Isaac to bring it on his way home. “Are you staying for the rest of the day, or are you going straight there?” “I’m gonna go, what about you?”

“I’m gonna stay; I have to talk to someone.”

It doesn’t take long for Boyd find Scott in the locker room before practice starts. He’s by himself, the locker next to him vacant of Stiles’s usual clutter, pulling padding over his shoulders. “Yo, McCall!” Scott looked up fast, eyeing Boyd dumbly. “Yeah?” “I heard you were talking shit about Stiles,” Boyd claimed, really getting into Scott’s space. Scott looked around the space, trying to avoid eye contact. Everyone in the locker room had stopped talking, gathering around the two teens. “It’s not talking shit if it’s the truth.”

“The truth,” Jackson yells out from behind Boyd, “You’ve been telling people that Stiles’s is slutting it up for us to hang out with him; all because you're an ignorant fuckface! You never deserved Stiles as a friend, and I’m glad you let him go, ‘cause he didn’t need your toxic bullshit.” It was easy to tell that absolutely no one expected Jackson of all people to stand up for Stiles.

“But he-” “But nothing,” Boyd started again, “Stiles doesn’t deserve this shit from you or anyone. He’s a great friend, you took that for granted, now stop trying to ruin his life.” With that, Boyd went to get ready for practice.

Chapter Text

Boyd called out for Stiles as he and Jackson entered the locker room. Jackson looked at his packmate in confusion, but Boyd just tapped his nose. Now that Jackson was focused on it, he could smell the scent of Stiles too, more precisely, Stiles’s panic. Jackson was surprised to find that the sent was coming from Coach’s office. Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed as he peered into the room. Stiles wasn’t there, just Greenberg and Coach. Jackson listened in to what they were saying.

“I don’t think I can play at practice, Coach. I think I pulled something.”

“Kid, you can’t play point blank. It’s not the injury that’s keeping you off the field,” Coach quipped, pushing Greenberg out of his office. Jackson focused back on Stiles’s scent, which seemed to be coming from the little twerp, and looked towards Boyd. They gave each other a quick nod before cornering Greenberg against some lockers.

“So,” Jackson seethed, “what happened today?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Greenberg said, voice quivering.

“Yes, you do. Now how did you get “injured”?”

Greenberg narrowed his eyes. “It was your slut, Stilinski. Fucker kicked me in my balls. Guess you really have him trained to only take you guys.”

Jackson didn’t get a chance to hurt Greenberg the way he wanted to because Boyd was already there, his thick hand pressed against Greenberg’s throat. Greenberg looks terrified and Jackson almost feels high on the scent of it. Greenberg deserves this.

Jackson’s thoughts are brought back to the important stuff when Boyd begins to talk, more wolf than man.

“Listen to me, you little shit. I want you and every other maggot that’s been hanging off of Scott’s dick to understand one thing, okay? We don’t need to be getting anything from Stiles to want to be his friend. We don’t need him to do our homework, or be our maid, or have sex with us for us to like him. Stiles is a good person and a great friend. Anyone who says otherwise, and I mean anyone, is gonna have some problems. Do you understand?” Greenberg lets out a pathetic whine but nods his head. “Good, now get the fuck out’ta my face and don't ever come near Stiles again.”

Jackson watches Greenberg scurry out of the locker room like the pest that he is before looking back at Boyd. “I can see why Erica finds you sexy.”

The boys don’t go easy on Scott on the field. The tackle him hard, over and over, to the point where Jackson can see him losing control. They tone down there assault a bit after that.

Coach watched from the sidelines. He’s noticed the hostility between McCall and a few other players, but he had yet to step in. He knew it had something to do with Stilinski, but Finstock couldn’t see why McCall was being attacked. The Sheriff's kid did everything for McCall, even joined the team for the boy. But Stilinski wasn’t on the team anymore.

Stiles is just waking up when Isaac struts into the loft. He can see the teen stretching from the open space they called the living room, can see the protective arm Derek has wrapped around Stiles’s waist. The older man is still sleeping, refusing to let his packmate go. Isaac smiles a bit at it as he sets Stiles’s stuff down.

Stiles sends him a little wave and a weak smile, but Isaac takes what he can get. Derek has said that Stiles wasn’t in the best of moods, so the werewolf didn’t expect much.

“How are you,” Isaac asked softly, sitting on the edge of Derek’s bed (a privilege only he – and Stiles – seemed to have).

“I could be better,” Stiles laughed, making Isaac smile.

“Can I?” Isaac gestured to the spot next to Stiles. The human nodded, laying back down and scooting closer to Derek. The older man let out a purr-like growl and tightened his grip around Stiles.

“I can assume something bad happened. He only gets like this when one of us gets hurt.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but can you give a person I can put the blame on?”

“Scott, I guess. It was his rumor that caused this. Sprinkle in a bit of Jealous Lydia, and you get this catastrophe.”  Isaac curled up next to Stiles, letting him play with his blond curls. “Have you heard any of the rumors?”

“Just the big one, about you sleeping with us.”

“Scott started that. Told everyone that I wanted friends so bad that I started sleeping with people to get them close.”

Isaac let out a sad whine. He’d never seen a friendship sour the way Scott and Stiles’s did. Never seen a friend turn their back so easily over nonsense. Well, Stiles’s sexuality wasn’t nonsense, but it sure wasn’t something to leave him over. It’s disgusting really, made Isaac want to scream and kick and fuck Scott up, but he didn’t. Instead, he told Stiles that Scott would learn soon enough. Isaac had a plan.

Isaac’s plan was an old ritual that instantly transferred a person to another pack; it instantly broke any leftover bonds between a person and their old alpha, allowing them to truly join a new pack. The ritual would leave Scott as an Omega, and he would have to leave Hale territory.

It doesn’t take long to set up. With the Peter’s old books and the rest of the Pack’s help,  Derek and Isaac were able to set up the ritual right there in the living room. Erica did the chants, gloved hands sprinkling a circle of wolfsbane around Stiles and Derek.

“Repeat after me,” she told Stiles. “I, Stiles Stilisnki,”

…

“I, Stiles Stilisnki, Give myself to the Hale Pack. I remove myself from all previous ties. I see the Hale Alpha as my own Alpha. And swear to protect this pack with all I have.”

Erica looked at Derek, giving him the signal to proceed. Derek nodded and leaned forward. Stiles exposes his neck in submission and Derek presses is fangs against the hot, fragile skin. When he pulls back, Stiles can feel something inside him crumble before something else snaps into place. Derek’s eyes glow red and Stiles smiles. This is it.

Chapter Text

Melissa notices Stiles’s absence in her son’s life; it sticks out like a sore thumb. She had asked Scott about it when it first became apparent. He said they had gotten into a disagreement, that it was nothing to worry about. So Melissa didn’t worry, not until Stiles didn’t come back. There were no calls or texts from Stiles, Melissa had checked with the phone company, and Scott stopped bringing the boy up in casual conversation.

That is how Melissa ends up taking to the Sheriff. She invites John over via phone call for one of the few days they both have off. He agrees, and Melissa starts to plan. She knows Scott will be with Allison that night, so there will be no distractions.

Melissa answers her front door in jeans and a t-shirt, this is not a date so she refuses to dress up. She invites the Sheriff in and helps him with his coat. He compliments the small array of food she’s set up and Melissa tries hard not to preen. It’s been a while since she’s had someone to cook for.

The make small take as they eat, but Melissa wants to get to the real reason she’s invited John to her home.

“So…” she starts.

“So?”

“I haven’t really seen Stiles around.” Melissa purses her lips. John scratches at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, Stiles said they had some sort of falling out. I was actually going to ask if you knew anything about it.” Melissa shakes her head, so John continues. “I know it’s about something really important. Stiles said Scott disagreed with something he was passionate about. Only problem is that-”

“Stiles is passionate about a lot of things?”

John nods, sipping his water. “I’ve been trying to narrow it down. I’ve only gotten it down to four things though.”

Melissa raises an eyebrow, “Stiles is definitely passionate about representation. He was so upset when this TV show he wanted to watch didn’t even hire actual Mexican actors to play the Mexican characters.”

John nods to that, “I was also thinking about the LGBT stuff Stiles does at school. I know he’s a member of whatever club they have at the high school.”

“Could it be that? I love my Scott, but he doesn’t seem to be up to the times about that stuff.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s got this weird notion that Bisexuals aren’t real? I have no idea where he got it from, but he just,” Melissa sighs heavily, “he’s very black and white about a lot in life. His father was too. He thinks there is only good and evil, right and wrong… gay or straight.”

“But that wouldn't make them stop talking to each other. It would have to be more personal than that.”

“John, you-” Melissa stops herself. She’s seen the way Stiles eyes Derek Hale. Shit, she’s seen the way Stiles eyes the checkout guy at the grocery store, but this is not her secret to tell. “You should talk to Stiles about it, let him explain,” she says instead.

“Alright. He should be home about now, so I’ll,” John does that funky thing where he points to the door with his thumbs and Melissa lets out a chuckle.

“Sure thing, John. Say hi to Stiles for me.”

Stiles isn’t alone when John gets home. From the window, John can see Stiles’s new friends, and Derek Hale of all people, sitting in the living room with the boy. They’re laughing at whatever’s on the TV, Derek’s arm wrapped securely around the Sheriff’s son.

Oh. Oh. That’s what Melissa meant. Scott’s “this or that” issue is personal to Stiles.

John tries to be quiet as he enters the house, but the Whittemore kid still sees him. He gives John a little wave before looking back at the TV. Jackson’s movement gets Stiles’s attention, and the boy looks over to his father.

“Hey, Pops. How was the date with Mel?”

John huffs out a laugh. “It wasn’t a date, son. We were actually talking about you.”

Everyone gets stiff. “What do you mean, dad?’

“We, uh. We talked about you and Scott. Melissa was worried about you. Scott never told her why you guys stopped hanging out.” Stiles moves from under Derek’s arm, properly facing his father. “You know, son, you never told me either.”

“Yes, I-”

“Not the whole thing.”

John watches as his son gears up to tell him the truth, the whole truth, but Derek jumps in. “Werewolves exist. Stiles and Scott can’t agree on what’s acceptable when it comes to protecting the pack.”

John blinks, “What?”

“No, dad, Derek, shut up. I’m Bisexual, Scott doesn’t agree with my “lifestyle” or whatever. That’s the truth.”

“So the werewolf thing is fake?”

“Stiles scratches at the nape of his neck, “Well…”

“Stiles!”

“Okay, okay. Werewolves are real. Don’t freak out.”

John looks at his son in disbelief. He wants an explanation and he wants it now. The boy slaps at Derek’s arm.

“C’mon guys, show him so he doesn't think I’m crazy,” Stiles pleads. He shines his bright doe eyes on Derek and John can see the man melt in his seat. The man’s shoulders slump and he turns to look at John.

John, however, is not met with the bushy-browed, frowning face he has come to know as Derek Hale. No, he is met with shining red eyes and pointed fangs. His eyebrows are gone too.

“What the fuck.”

“Exactly,” Stiles says, laughing. “Exactly.”

Scott feels a sharp ache in his chest as he when he gets home. His mother sees him slump over and looks at him curiously, but Scott brushes her off, telling her that it’s nothing. He texts Lydia about it later that evening, but she doesn’t give him any good answers.

Scott sighs and rubs his chest. The pain has subsided, but he feels like something is missing. He doesn’t know what it is.