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The mating runs take place every year, on the eve of spring. Each time, volunteers old enough for starting a settled relationship sign up for the run in the hopes of finding their perfect partner.
Most of the pairs — and sometimes triads — which were matched during a run have proven to be stable and compatible, not only due to the effort that they put into finding each other in the woods but also due to scent markers that led them together.
Not everyone believed in the power of the mating runs. And some of those who did believe did think that there was something unnatural about the matches, something that defied free will. So a lot of eligible single people simply did not volunteer and some regarded those who did sign up with sneers of superiority.
Then there were those who just found it amusing.
Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski is one of those people. He’s been watching the mating runs ever since he was aware of them happening. At first, finding his perfect mate was the dream, the ideal. But with time and because of circumstances beyond his control, he lost faith in the forces that helped make the matches.
As he grew older, he found that there was no science behind it, that it wasn’t chance. He knows the matches are really special because there is magic making them so. He knows because he is magic.
The spark didn’t manifest until he was sixteen, five years after he lost his Mom to a tragic illness — one that he attributed to magic once he found out he got it from her — and a few years after his father had been elected Sheriff of Beacon Hills. Stiles’s parents were a Match made during a mating run, something Stiles’s father likes to point out whenever Stiles goes on a rant about free will and forced happiness.
“Yeah, and look how that ended up,” Stiles always mutters to himself these days.
He used to say it out loud, but he learned that upsetting his father wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. Not if Stiles wants to keep him out of the whiskey barrels and living a long and healthy life.
That is part of why Stiles is not a fan of the mating runs. Why he doesn’t want to run. Why he doesn’t want to find his mate.
Because what is the point of finding them if they’re just going to die anyway? Or if he dies young? He wouldn’t want to make anyone suffer the way his father did, not if he can prevent it.
For years he kept his distance from the runs and never bothered signing up at all. He watched his best friend find his mates, saw his crush walk out of the forest after a mating run, hand in hand with his worst enemy at the time.
That one was the breaking point for Stiles. Because if someone can find a new mate after they've lost their first one, then is the magic around it as strong as everyone says at all? Does it matter whether one finds their partner during the run or at a completely different time?
For Stiles, the answer was a strong "no". He wasn't going to volunteer for the run, wasn't going to take it seriously. He would stay as far away as possible and ignore everyone who would try and convince him otherwise. He also decided to learn as much as he possibly could about the magic that was involved in the runs and in helping the connections along.
"Ah, so you've finally chosen to get your proper training after all," Deaton, the local druid stated when Stiles walked into his office — at a veterinary hospital, of all places — and asked about the mating runs' magic.
"Not really," Stiles said, shrugging a shoulder. "I just want to know about the mating magic."
"Ah, I see."
Deaton turned to a stack of papers on his desk and remained silent.
"So, can you help me?" Stiles asked after a while when the silence lingered longer than he could handle.
"I could," Deaton said, not looking up. "But it's quite advanced, and without you understanding the core of your own Spark, I don't believe you could grasp the intricacies of anything more complicated."
"I could look it up on the internet," Stiles told him.
"And you'd find misinformation, rumors, and potentially answers that might lead you down a dangerous path," Deaton said. "Though I think the latter would be intriguing rather than a deterrent to you."
"Glad we understand each other," Stiles told him.
"We very much don't," Deaton said, finally pausing what he was working on. "I can help you learn about the mating run magic. I will do so on the condition that you go through the full training to develop your Spark to what I believe can be a full strength of a Mage."
Stiles thought about it. As much as he didn't want to dive into the world of magic, especially with Deaton — he had a habit of not answering questions clearly — it was a better option than trying to find the information alone. The internet was a good place to start, but having someone to parse through what he found and tell him what's true and what's fiction would be nice.
"Fine," Stiles said eventually, to Deaton's obvious satisfaction.
-=-=-=-=-
He's three years into his training when he wanders into the woods where the mating runs take place for the first time. It's on the eve of Christmas and it's really only to escape everyone else. Scott's family is starting to grow, Allison expecting her first child and both Scott and Isaac are in protective fathers-to-be mode that Stiles can't deal with.
His usual hiding place — his own home — is not available because his dad and Melissa are preparing for their wedding. Not that Stiles minds, it's something he's been looking forward to. But it does cut into his alone time which he has gotten used to over the years when his father was raising him alone on a schedule that was far from steady and predictable.
So he ends up in the woods. The Beacon Hills Preserve. The piece of forest that is empty of all civilization and of any houses or even well-maintained trails. The space that only ever gets used one time each year, for the mating run that tends to take over the town every April.
Thinking about the timing of the run as he walks through the growth beneath the tall and slightly menacing-looking trees, Stiles wonders if the month of the run contributed to his dislike of the whole ceremony and event. Because that's his birthday month, and while he didn't see any difference while his mom was still alive, he certainly did after. As a law enforcement officer — even before he was elected Sheriff — Stiles's father was almost always involved in the organization, leaving Stiles to celebrate his birthday weeks after the actual day.
It's that first walk through the Preserve that gives him the idea.
Unlike any of the other years, Stiles keeps track of the preparations for the mating run, notes the deadlines for volunteering and continues his Mage training.
"Seriously?" Scott asks him when Stiles mentions that he might run in the upcoming one.
"I didn't say I was going to put in an effort," Stiles says. "But hey, I might try."
Scott looks at him with suspicion, but then gets pulled away by an Allison-related emergency, much to Stiles's relief. That doesn't last long though, and Scott eventually does get around to asking whether Stiles is planning on interfering with the run and ruining the potential of people who will participate to find their mates.
"I wouldn't," Stiles protests weakly.
Because the moment Scott mentioned it, Stiles's mind immediately jumped to ways that the magic involved could be bent in and out of the shape that it's meant to be. But while Stiles is mischievous, he's not actively interested in ruining anyone's life. Unless they deserve it.
He’s not going to go in and destroy someone else’s dream. But he’s already considering how he can mess with anyone who would be looking for a mate and consider chasing after him. There are things in the books that Deaton has deemed suitable for Stiles to read that discuss the various ways that Mages were able to, in the past, modify their own scent markers and bend the mating magic to do what they wanted. Of course, most of them were doing it to make sure that the person they've chosen without the adjustments and influence on the magic would be the one they ended up with after the run. Stiles's aim is different.
More and more, he finds himself walking into the forest and exploring its nooks and crannies, snooping around all the areas that the run normally covers. It's not a small area, so it takes him several months of visits there before he's almost certain that he's got it all figured out. Then he sets off on a mission to develop a spell that will do what he needs it to.
"Mr. Stilinski, this is not the work I've asked you to do," Deaton says when he finds Stiles at a table filled with jewelry-making tools one day, several months before the next run.
"The potion is over there," Stiles says, waving his hand at a table nearby, never looking up from what he's working on.
"You're making an amulet, I see," Deaton comments when he walks closer to look at what Stiles is doing. "That's quite a smart move. It should enhance your spells."
Stiles nods because that was his aim and reason for choosing to fiddle with silver and gems, trying to mold the silver into the shape he needs.
"I'd suggest adding a dash of this," Deaton says and hands Stiles a vial of clear liquid. "It's a variant of mountain ash and has proven to have various magic-enhancing qualities."
"It's not going to like, make me into a magical lightning rod, is it?" Stiles asks, looking at the vial with suspicion.
"Not quite. That would require a Nemeton."
"I thought you said there was one of those in the Preserve," Stiles tells him, attention now completely off the jewelry piece he's been working on.
"There is. It is, however, dormant."
"Is that... good?"
"At the moment, yes," Deaton says, turning to the potion Stiles has made earlier. "This is rather good," he tells Stiles when he smells the potion.
"But it could do with some improvement?"
"Of course," Deaton says.
Then he walks out and leaves Stiles to his ministrations with the silver that's not behaving the way Stiles would want it to.
Several weeks later, Stiles has managed to finish the earring, molded it the way it needed to be, the topaz surrounded by a silver circle fitting nicely, resting right on his earlobe when he puts it on. He can't see it unless he's looking in the mirror, which he figures is just as well because the way it reflects light would be distracting otherwise.
He wanders into the woods again after that, this time with the earring helping his focus. The first few spells he casts are testing ones — simple things to make the greenery grow, one or two to heal some trees that have been attacked by rot or insects. It's not until he tries to cast one that he needs to practice for the mating run that something starts feeling off. He's not sure whether it's because of the spell or if something has changed in the forest, but the woods feel different.
"Are you sure?" Scott asks when Stiles tells him about the weird feeling of being watched that he had on one of his trips into the Preserve. "Maybe Deaton knows what he's up to and he's following you to make sure you don't hurt someone. Or something. Or yourself."
"I feel the love, Scotty," Stiles grumbles. "But no, it doesn't feel like when he's watching me."
"It's a little unsettling that you know how that feels," Scott says.
"For all that I wouldn't trust him with my life, he returns the sentiment right back," Stiles says, a smirk playing on his lips. "I've come to know how it feels when he's trying to be particularly sneaky about it."
"To be fair, you do go behind his back a lot with the things you do," Scott points out.
"Yeah yeah, whatever."
"But hey, if there's something in the forest and you're sure that it's not Deaton, maybe you should mention it to him?" Scott looks at Stiles, who's already shaking his head. "Just a thought."
"Then I'd have to tell him just how many times I've been there without telling anyone."
Scott gives him a look that's so pointed that Stiles almost considers going to Deaton with his minor concern. But in the end, he decides that it's not a big deal and that it's probably his imagination running a little wilder than usual.
For a few weeks after that, his attention is taken up by winter holidays and everything that surrounded the chaos that usually came with not only Christmas but also New Year celebrations. He doesn't have any chances to sneak out into the forest, but there's an unease that follows him around. Like he should be in the Preserve, should look for something. Or maybe someone. The feeling hits him extra hard on Christmas Day, but he's so tied up with his family and with studies for Deaton that he doesn't get out of the house at all.
The next thing he knows, it's January and the mating run is only two months away. Stiles isn't sure if he knows everything he needs to, debates whether he should put off volunteering for the run for another year. But then Scott mentions off-handedly that no one they know or are close with is running this year. And that's what convinces Stiles that it's the best time to test his theories and the magic he's managed to learn.
Not that he tells anyone that he's going to run until the night before he absolutely has to.
"You're doing what?"
The way that Scott, John, and Melissa all ask at the exact same time is almost eerie. Allison and Isaac are watching from across the room, Allison with a curious frown, Isaac with an amused smile like he knows that Stiles is up to something he shouldn't be up to. Which, to be fair, is Stiles's usual mode anyway, so it's a good guess on Isaac's part.
They're all gathered for dinner the night before the mating run as every year since John will leave before everyone else in the morning to set up at the Preserve, assuming his duties as Sheriff for at least some portion of the run's duration. Because those duties always keep him away from home for at least a few days, depending on how long the run carries on — the record is a full month — Melissa came up with the idea of a family dinner the night before.
Stiles probably could have timed his decision to announce that he's running this year just a little bit better.
"I've decided to give it a try," he says, shrugging like it's not a big deal.
John narrows his eyes at Stiles with suspicion, like he's in half a mind to tell Stiles he can't. Which would be pointless, because Stiles is an adult and he submitted his volunteer paperwork on time.
Fortunately for Stiles, that’s the moment when the oven announces that dinner is ready to be served. He rushes out of the dining room and into the kitchen under the guise of helping out Melissa with the food. It’s avoidance, but he’s not up for questioning and interrogation from his dad, not when John has years of training at it professionally and knows Stiles’s weak spots like the back of his hand.
What he’s not counting on is Melissa.
“Stiles, kiddo,” she starts right as he has his hands full with a tray of steaming chicken casserole and can’t just drop it and run. “Are you sure about this?”
She’s gentle, concerned, and for a second Stiles wonders if this is how his mom would’ve been before his first mating run. To Melissa, he just nods.
“You were so against it,” she continues while they putter around the kitchen and gather all the dishes on the counter. “What made you change your mind?”
It’s not a question that feels as intrusive or accusatory as his dad’s would’ve been, so it catches Stiles off-guard and he blurts the first answer that comes to his mind.
“The magic, actually. I always knew it was involved, obviously, but then I studied so much about it that it made me curious.”
“Ah.”
Melissa doesn’t say anything else. She finishes the salad she’s been making and then grabs the bowl and heads for the dining room. Before she walks through the door, still out of earshot of Scott and John, she turns around and looks at Stiles. Her face is filled with a mix of fondness and worry that Stiles tends to refer to as The Parent Face. It tends to come with a hint of exasperation from both Melissa and John.
“Be careful out there, kid, okay?”
Stiles nods and she walks into the dining room. There are immediate sounds of protest about the salad that Melissa is carrying, which makes Stiles chuckle. He grabs the casserole dish and follows her, laughing at the sigh of relief from both John and Scott when they see that they’ll get more to eat than veggies.
Luckily for him, no one at the table returns to the conversation of the run again. At least not until after, when Scott, Ally, and Isaac have left the house and Melissa heads out to her shift at the hospital. That's when John pulls Stiles into the kitchen under the guise of doing the dishes. At first, that's what they do, but Stiles knows that the peace and quiet won't last for too long. So it's not a surprise when John looks at him with curiosity and concern as they are finishing up putting everything away.
"Are you sure, son?" John's frown doesn't disappear as he faces Stiles, the question quiet and there's worry in his voice.
"I am," Stiles says, realizing that it's the truth.
His reasons may be suspect, but he does want to do this. He spent so much time studying all the magic behind the mate bonds, so much time trying to figure out what it was that pulled those who were more compatible towards each other. And yet he doesn't know why or how it is happening, what specific type of magic is at play. Going into the forest during the mating run seems like the best way to figure it all out, to get the answers he craves.
He's not — not that he's going to tell that to his father, whose eyes are bright with hope — expecting to find someone for himself during the run. If anything, he's planning on actively avoiding anyone who'd show genuine signs of interest in him. Despite having learned some of how the magic works, he's still not willing to risk hurting anyone the way he'd seen people hurt in the past. The same way, he's not willing to throw himself into something that might end up hurting him in the end.
"Just please don't do something stupid in there, okay?" John asks gently, putting his hand on Stiles's shoulder. "I don't know if it's a mate you're looking for, or if it's just knowledge, but please be careful."
"I will, Dad," Stiles says with all the sincerity he can muster.
John sighs, but he doesn't pry anymore. Stiles realizes that his dad has more than just an inkling that Stiles's motives aren't the same as every other volunteer's. Why he doesn't question those motives further and why he lets it go like he doesn't suspect Stiles of having plans that are going to disrupt the run, Stiles doesn't know and he doesn't ask.
After all, he doesn't plan to ruin anyone's chances of finding a mate other than his own. And that doesn't matter since he hasn't wanted that chance in a long time.
John leaves him alone after a short while and Stiles heads out into the garage apartment he's living in while he finishes his training with Deaton. There, he goes through the spells and mini-rituals he'll need to perform in the morning and he looks through the notes he took in preparation for the run one last time.
He doesn't sleep well, the anticipation of the run — even when he's not taking its traditional reasons seriously — makes him wake up way too early after several false starts at falling asleep in the first place. Stiles is glad though because he gets to perform his rituals at dawn, with the sun rising as he chants the words to enhance his focus, to dampen his natural scent, to boost his agility. The last one, in particular, he only added as an afterthought, but he's now — as he trips on the corner of his bed — glad he did.
When he finally gets to the kitchen in the main house, Melissa and John are long gone. Stiles makes himself a sandwich and sips his coffee in peace, but his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and questions as he muses over his plans for the day. Being in his mind this way always brings up thoughts he's not expecting and today is no different. While he's thinking about the forest and recalling the paths he discovered when he was out there to explore, he's struck with the memory of the one time when it felt like he wasn't alone in the woods. The time when his senses were on alert as if he was being followed.
Stiles wonders for a moment if he should've asked Deaton about it, but then his reminder for the run's start goes off. He scrambles to get out of the house and doesn't think about it anymore.
"Mr. Stilinski," Deaton says when Stiles tumbles out of his Jeep at the edge of the Preserve. "You're unexpectedly early."
"It happens," Stiles quips, but he knows it doesn't happen a lot.
Deaton looks at him with a mix of suspicion and amusement. "I was surprised to see your name on the list."
"Well, I figured that since I'm studying the magic of the run," Stiles explains, trying to sound nonchalant, "I might as well experience it in its full glory."
He only gets a hum in response. One that — even after the years working with Deaton — he can't translate into a regular language to determine if it's approval, suspicion, or disappointment. But Stiles isn't relying on anyone's approval of his plan, he knows that he's doing this, that he's walking into that forest and finding out how it all works.
"Perhaps," Deaton says after a while, as the cars with other participants of the run begin pulling up into the clearing they're in, "it will stop scaring you as much as it does once you understand it."
Stiles opens his mouth, then closes it quickly again because they're not alone anymore and he's not up for debating this with an audience present. Instead, he watches as the others gather around Deaton. He spots his dad's cruiser as more cars pull up, but he only nods in John's direction subtly, not wanting to disclose his relationship with him. Some of the people who are here to run do know Stiles, but there are a few outsiders, people who obviously came from other towns in the county, unfamiliar faces whom Stiles never saw before.
The ones who are local seem to be already paired up. Stiles observes everyone and notices the subtle gestures that give it away — the looks, the aborted movements as they try to not overtly touch each other. For them, the run is a confirmation of what they already know. For the others, it's a search. Stiles, knowing that he's about to make this run different than any of the others, is glad that no one from Beacon Hills is on a genuine mission to find their mate. Especially that no one close to him, no one he knows well, is here.
Then Deaton speaks up, recites the guidelines — no violence, no interfering with others, no traps, no magic — and then they're all off, some walking, others jogging past the arch bearing the sign of The Beacon Hills Preserve.
Stiles doesn't rush. He lets everyone else head in while he strolls leisurely up the main path. Only a few dozen steps into the woods, he turns off into what looks like bushes but has a small path behind it. He's at an advantage a little, knowing the woods the way he does. The spells he cast and the rituals he performed aren't there to confuse the scents or to enhance them, but they allow him to move around the forest quieter and to hear and sense the others better.
It doesn't mean he's completely quiet though. No magic has yet been discovered that would entirely counteract his natural clumsiness, especially when confronted with the uneven surface of the forest ground. But he's not as noisy as he tends to be on any other day.
Still feels weird, he thinks as he advances through the trees, heading for what he knows is a thicker part of the woods, one that will give him more cover and a better view once he climbs up.
The thought comes to him when the feeling of being watched returns, like that one time that he mentioned to Scott. He knows that it's none of the other people participating in the run — they've all gone in a different direction — nor is it Deaton of John supervising the run. All those are louder, Stiles knows he would hear their steps and possibly even their breathing the further up the hill he goes. This is different.
He tries to shake that feeling off as he nears the trees he scouted out before, the one he chose as his vantage point. After all, his main aim for this run is to observe. His earring seems to be buzzing with the combination of its own magic, the spells Stiles cast that morning, and the forest's innate power. Once he's up in the tree, settled in on a thick branch, Stiles mutters the final incantation under his breath, the one that allows his mind to reach out through the trees and the growth to the people around the woods.
It's strange to feel the bonds forming. it's like they were already there, but the forest's power flows into them and makes them stronger. Like it's adding strands to a rope that was always there, twisting it and pulling it tighter until it's strong. He feels a jolt every time a pair — and one triad that makes Stiles think of Scott, Isaac, and Allison — touch hands and the bond between them locks into place.
He can feel the pull of strings that the people at each end didn't know about. Then the jolt again when the people meet in the forest for the first time. He can sense the joy, the curiosity, the content in the matches who walked into the forest with their mates, the satisfaction of those who didn't but found someone in there.
Then something happens that he didn't anticipate. The remaining participant of the run — the ones with bonds extending outside of the forest and thus not likely to meet someone today — veer towards where Stiles is sitting like a magnet is pulling them there. But it sends them on a wild chase around the woods, up and down hills, through a stream and into a cave. Al the while, Stiles senses something else in the woods, something that seems like it’s trying to intimidate the runners. Something that gives him the same sense of being watched that he felt before.
The topaz in his earring feels warm, hot to the touch when Stiles reaches up to touch it. Then, just as he's about to climb back down and get out of the forest before something goes wrong, the figures start appearing in the clearing underneath him. One by one, they dash in and then fall at the feet of the tree Stiles is sitting in, all of them seemingly exhausted. Stiles stays quiet in the tree and they don't seem to be paying him any attention. It's like they've run to a finish line and dropped down to rest after crossing it. It makes no sense, it doesn't fit with anything that Stiles knows about the run. Normally, when it's become clear that someone won't find their mate — which is usually hours, sometimes days after the start of the run, though the latter is rare — they simply return to the entrance to the Preserve and leave.
He's still wondering about the magic that made this happen — the people on the ground below his feet now all seem to have fallen asleep — when he hears a crack from the woods, like someone deliberately stepped on a branch to announce their presence. Stiles glances in the direction of the sound and narrows his eyes.
it should be unnerving. It should shock him, maybe enough for him to lose his balance and fall down from the branch he's on.
But when the black wolf strolls into the clearing beneath Stiles, there's only curiosity at first. Then, when he's made sure that he's not imagining things, Stiles feels something else.
He was so focused on the others' connections, so used to ignoring his own, that it feels foreign now. It feels almost unsettling to feel it twist and turn, tighten as new strings make it thicker and stronger. And then he can see it. It's only for a fraction of a moment, but he sees the strings come together and twist into one rope, a red string and a bright blue one both glowing as they twine between the plain ones. He can see it from about an inch away from his wrist and sees it extend towards the wolf on the ground below.
The wolf that's now looking up at Stiles with eyes that seem entirely too knowing to be anything other than human. Then the wolf glances around the clearing at the people sleeping on the ground. When he looks up at Stiles again, he begins to change. It's the eyes first, human ones looking odd against the black fur around them, then the face and ears. As the wolf shifts from four legs to two, Stiles is torn between surprise, curiosity, and wonder.
He doesn't get a chance to move or speak, because just as the wolf's transformation completes, the bushes at the other end of the clearing part and Deaton walks in.
"Mr. Hale," he says quietly, with a surprised but pleased expression. "Welcome back."
The man — naked, Stiles thinks — nods at Deaton, but his eyes turn back to Stiles almost immediately. They're green now, Stiles can see that even from a distance, and they're looking at him with the same curiosity that Stiles feels. There's also expectation, the man's face shadowed with what looks like fear. Why he would be afraid, Stiles doesn't know.
He doesn't jump down from the tree yet, feeling a little unsteady as his mind processes the information that it's observing.
"You didn't tell me there were werewolves in Beacon Hills," he finally blurts in Deaton's direction.
"It wasn't necessary information," Deaton tells him. "Now would you please get down off that tree, Mr. Stilinski?"
Stiles jumps down — almost falls over as he realizes that he misjudged the distance and almost landed on top of someone — and then looks at Deaton with disbelief.
"Okay, how is 'werewolves in Beacon Hills' not necessary information?"
Deaton shrugs his shoulders.
"There were none, at least as far as I was aware," he says, looking at the werewolf.
Hale, Stiles thinks. Still naked, his brain adds, unhelpfully. He knows the name, he remembers the family who used to live in Beacon Hills and whose house burned down in the fire a few years—
Stiles's mind screeches to a halt as the pieces fall together.
"Wait, Derek?"
He stares at the man's — Derek's — face, his mouth open as he tries to process the information. Because now that he figured it out, he can see the resemblance to the guy whose sister used to be in Stiles's year before the fire. The one who played basketball and always seemed too cool for anyone else.
"Stiles."
"Ah, I see you two know each other," Deaton says. "That should make things easier."
"Well, not really," Stiles immediately replies, because while he's familiar with Derek's face and name, that's about all he knows of him.
They were never close, never talked, Stiles wasn't even close with Derek's sister Cora, who was on the list of those who didn't make it out of the Hale house when it burned down. That memory stings even though he didn't know the family, but it was a big deal in town. And afterward, the only survivors of the fire left town. Derek and his older sister Laura, plus their uncle who was badly hurt by the flames.
"What's going to be easier?" Stiles asks when the rest of Deaton's words register in his mind.
Deaton looks pointedly at Derek and then back at Stiles, but doesn't say a word. Stiles stares and then remembers. The bond.
"Oh. Oh no," he says quietly.
Derek, on the other hand, is looking at Stiles like he's trying to figure him out. Which can only be explained by the fact that he was out of town for years, because anyone who has been around knows better than to try. Including Stiles himself.
"I wasn't here to... I mean, I wasn't planning to... I didn't...." Stiles groans as the words aren't coming out right, no matter how much he tries to convey that finding someone wasn't his plan, wasn't something he wanted, wasn't something he was interested in.
"You two can get to know each other first," Deaton says. "I suggest you do it in a place where Mr. Hale can acquire some clothing. Congratulations on mastering the full shift, by the way."
Derek grunts in response and then he turns and starts walking towards the bushes he walked out of. Stiles doesn't wait for an invitation, figuring that he's not going to get one anyway, and he sets off after him.
"Wait," he shouts as he tries to keep up. "What does Deaton mean full shift? Are there other shifts you can do? Have you been a werewolf all your life? Because that explains so much, really, from all those years ago. Is your sister back too? Are you back for good or only for now? Why were you in the forest during the mating run? How long have you been back? And was that you watching me today?"
Derek doesn't stop until he reaches a dirt road and a sleek black Camaro that's parked there. Stiles, now almost completely out of breath, stops and leans against a nearby tree, trying to catch his breath. He does not watch Derek move as he pulls on a Henley and some jeans. He very much does not think about how Derek's not bothering with underwear.
"Yes. We have a Beta shift which is only partial. Born this way. Laura is not here. I don't know. I don't know. A few months. And yes. How did you know I was watching you?" Derek rattles off and it takes Stiles a moment to connect the answers to the questions.
"I could feel it. It's probably the ritual that made my senses more focused," Stiles says, his hand moving up to his talisman earring.
"You're a Mage," Derek says flatly, leaning against the hood of his car.
"Spark. In training."
"I didn't think you were allowed to use magic in there," Derek nods towards the forest. "Not during the run."
Stiles feels the heat rise in his cheeks and he's pretty sure his blush is visible from space.
"Well, not really," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't in there for the traditional reason. It was... an experiment."
"An experiment. During a mating run."
"I wanted to know how the magic works," Stiles says, shrugging.
"Did you find out?"
"Nope. You showed up. I have a feeling that's something that I couldn't have planned for."
Derek looks at him with a blank expression. It unnerves Stiles because he's used to being able to read people. With the obvious exception of Deaton, but even he has times when Stiles can read into the minute changes in his face.
"I wasn't going to...." Derek starts. "I'm not here to find someone," he says, after a beat.
"Funny that, me either," Stiles tells him. "It's not like the bond is a shackle," he adds with a shrug. "You can walk away. I would, but I actually live in town, so I wouldn't go far. I mean, I'm guessing you moved somewhere a lot further away. And regardless of you being here now, I guess you're not staying? I can't blame you, I wouldn't either. If I could leave, I would too."
Derek's face changes from its blankness to what looks like amusement to Stiles. Of course, it could also be anything else, it's not like he has a Derek dictionary.
"I see you still talk as much as you used to," he says, completely throwing Stiles for a loop. "I would've expected you to grow out of it."
"Yeah, Dad hoped I would too," Stiles says, then pauses and narrows his eyes at Derek. "Wait, you remember me?"
"Hard not to. You were always the most noticeable whenever I was picking up Cora after school."
There's a hint of sadness in Derek's voice. Just enough that Stiles wants to kick himself for bringing up the past. For being a reminder of it, though there's not much he can do about that.
"Loud and obnoxious," he says instead. "I've heard that one before."
Derek shrugs.
"So, what now?" Stiles asks him.
"Get in," Derek says after a beat, nodding towards his car. "I'll drive you out."
"You're not going to like, drop me off deeper in the forest or anything?" Stiles asks, but he's already walking around to get in the Camaro. "Because I know this part of the Preserve, but I'd kind of like to get home at some point."
"I know."
"Wait, so how long exactly have you been back in Beacon Hills? And how many times have you followed me in the woods?"
"Enough. You shouldn't walk around here alone."
"Why? Will I be eaten by the big bad wolf?" Stiles asks, grinning.
"Maybe," Derek says.
And there's a definite spark in his eyes and a smile tugging on his lips. And holy shit, Stiles thinks, that's flirting. That's something that Stiles wasn't on the receiving end of a lot. Just enough to recognize it.
I can work with that, he thinks.
Then he startles when Derek chuckles like he heard Stiles's thought.
"Wait, did I say that out loud?" Stiles asks.
He only gets another chuckle in response. At a loss for what else to say — and he's entirely aware of how unusual that is — Stiles sits back and watches Derek as he's driving. He doesn't look the same as he did when Stiles last saw him, which makes sense since that was years ago. Now, Stiles can't help but let his eyes wander over Derek's features, over the sharp angles of his jaw and the long line of his neck. He looks at the way Derek seems relaxed when he's driving — Stiles isn't surprised, the Camaro is a dream machine and absolutely beyond anything Stiles ever got to drive. He does have a soft spot for his own Jeep — it used to be his mom's — but he'd love to get his hands on the Camaro.
"Not happening," Derek says. "And you're talking out loud again."
Stiles cringes and wonders when he started saying things out loud.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles.
"It's fine," Derek tells him, pulling up at the clearing where Stiles parked his car at the start of the run.
"So, this is me," Stiles says, nodding towards his Jeep. "Thanks for the ride."
Derek doesn't respond at first, so Stiles reaches for the handle and starts opening the door.
"Wait," Derek speaks up when Stiles puts his legs out and starts leaning out.
"What?"
Derek takes a breath and suddenly seems unusually hesitant, almost shy in a way that confuses Stiles, since what he's seen of Derek so far gave him no indication that shyness is even in the vicinity of possible emotions for Derek.
"I... since the run... I...."
"Yeah?"
Stiles suddenly feels hopeful, like maybe there's something brewing that he hasn't hoped for. Something he actively avoided but with the mating run and the bond...
"Would you like to grab a coffee?”
"Yes, yeah," Stiles replies almost immediately, maybe even a little too fast, but he doesn't care.
Derek's responding smile is blinding.
-=-=-=-=-
When Stiles finally admits to his dad how he ended up going on the first date with Derek, they had several of them under the belt. In fact, Stiles doesn't tell his dad that he's dating anyone, let alone that it's someone he met during the mating run or that it just so happens to be a werewolf until months into the relationship.
Despite his worries about the reaction to his confession, all he gets is laughter, a pat on the shoulder, and several pointed "I told you so"s not only from his dad but also from Scott.
Stiles doesn't care. He still doesn't have all the answers about the mating run magic, but he has Derek now, and the answers will come one day.