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Derek Hale had always been very aware of his physique. He often went to gym. He limited his intake of unhealthy foods and in return his muscles grew rock solid and toned. The lithe body of his boyfriend shouldn’t be able to hurt him.
He’s a werewolf, for god’s sake.
“Ow-fuck,” punch, “Stiles,” slap, “Stop that.” Stiles balled his hands into fists and hammered them down onto Derek’s bicep, before being distracted by the solid feel of his boyfriend’s arm and changing his hits to admiring squeezes.
“Dammit, Derek. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Stiles’ annoyance fell flat since he hadn’t exactly stopped groping Derek.
“My mom only told me this morning.” Derek groused, swatting Stiles’ hand away before rubbing his abused arm soothingly.
Stiles’ face adopted a look of panic. His whiskey-coloured eyes – one of the features Derek finds most beautiful in Stiles – wide in alarm; mouth twisted into a nervous line.
“Shit shit shit shit shit, Derek,” Stiles heaved, “I’m meeting your fucking family.”
Derek grimaced – not exactly the reaction he had hoped for.
“Stop panicking,” Derek ordered. “They’re going to love you.”
He punctuated the statement with a swift peck to Stiles’ mouth.
Stiles breathed deep breaths.
“Yeah, they’re gonna love me.”
Derek nodded, choosing not to point out that Stiles’ heart beat had tripped over the words.
If pressed, Derek will definitely be the first to admit that his family is crazy. His sisters take meddling in his personal affairs way too seriously, while his father tag-teams his uncle in embarrassing Derek in various creative and horrifying ways. And his mother still acts as though Derek is nine-years old and in need of her assistance for every single thing.
(It sure didn’t help that his whole family were werewolves and that privacy didn’t exist in his family home.)
These were just a few of the many reasons why Derek decided that he would arrive at his home a little early (Stiles having agreed to meet him there) to beg his family to act normal for one night.
The moment Derek stepped into the house he was met with a loud resounding crash sounding from the dining room, followed by his mother’s bellowed: “Laura and Cora Hale! That better not be my vase!”
He hurried into the room where his sisters were tangled up on the floor, sweaty and guilty-looking. Jagged pieces of what was once Derek’s mother’s vase surrounding them; the white porcelain contrasting starkly against the dark wood of the floor.
Laura jumped up, scrabbling to pick up all the pieces.
All three of the Hale children’s heads snapped up at the sound of their mother’s footsteps nearing. Laura threw the others a panicked glance, before shoving the pieces underneath the carpet under the table. She adopted a look of casual innocence as their mother walked into the room, several crystal glasses clutched in her hands.
Derek took in the lay-out of the table and smiled; his mother certainly hadn’t held back. Their best china and silverware adorned his late grandmother’s beautifully embroidered place mats.
“Wow, Mom, this looks great.” Derek said, stepping forward to kiss his mother’s cheek in greeting.
Talia smiled. “Thank you, Honey.” She left the room without a glance at Derek’s sisters. “And no more wrestling!” Talia spoke from the kitchen, her alpha voice bleeding into the command. Laura relaxed and grinned at her brother while Cora just glared at her older sister.
“Why so early, little bro?” Laura asked, leaping into Derek’s space and folding her arms around his waist before hugging the hell out of him. She nuzzled him once, twice, trying to rub her scent onto her pack member.
The reason Derek’s mother had decided that that night in particular would be the night to meet Stiles was because of Laura. Derek’s sister had decided to visit from NYU where she was currently completing her Masters in Behavioural Psychology and - with their family being werewolves and all - it was rather instrumental for the whole family to meet a potential pack member. How tonight fared would be the deciding factor as to whether Derek would be allowed to tell Stiles about werewolves.
“I wanted to talk to everyone before Stiles gets here,” Derek said, raising his eyebrows at the faux-insulted looks on his sisters’ faces.
“What? You think we won’t be nice to the only person that can get that stick out of your ass?” Cora sassed.
Laura snickered, “And replace it with another.”
“Laura! Cora! Stop agitating your brother and get over here to help with dinner!”
Derek followed his sheepish siblings to the kitchen and sent his mother a grateful look for the interruption. The kitchen smelled heavenly. Different flavours coalescing in the air to form a practically edible aroma.
“So, Derek, tell us a bit about your human then.” Talia smiled, cutting potatoes with a preternatural grace.
Derek bowed his head, a slight blush dusting his cheeks as he thought about his boyfriend. He scratched his neck, finding it difficult to condense Stiles into a few words.
“Uhm.” He traced the countertop with his finger, wishing suddenly that he had Stiles’ natural ability of speaking his mind. “He talks incessantly. Like, he babbles about everything and anything he can think of. He has ADHD, so he finds it a bit difficult to stick to just one subject. Uh…honestly he’s quite overwhelming at first and he can be a pain in the ass, but…he’s fiercely loyal and very compassionate – sometimes too much. He uses his hands and arms a lot when talking.” Derek flailed around to demonstrate, before continuing: “He has the most expressive face in the world. It’s so easy to tell how he’s feeling all the time.” Derek smiled at his feet, fondly. “Honestly, he’s the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”
Derek looked up to find that his mother and sisters have stopped cooking and were watching him intently instead – Talia with a huge grin and Laura and Cora giggling away madly.
“You are so whipped.” Laura said.
“Whipped like the family pig.” Cora added. They shared a high-five while Derek scowled. Talia bit her lip to resist chuckling.
“Oh, Derek. I’m so happy for you. My little boy, growing up.” She cradled Derek’s head in her hands and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. Derek moaned and tried to wiggle away, but a short growl from his Alpha stilled him. “Oh, hush. It’s my right as a mother to be a little emotional.” She wiped her hands on her apron and hustled to finish preparing the food. “Tom! Peter! Get you asses down here!”
Derek sometimes felt like he would someday get whiplash from trying to keep up with his mother. One moment she’s acting all soft and motherly and the next her Alpha voice is showing and she’s throwing orders left and right.
Derek didn’t need his werewolf powers to hear his father and uncle make their way downstairs. The two men acted like boys with their tendencies to rough-house and love of being boisterous. Derek’s uncle, Peter, walked into the room first, face triumphant, until he spotted Derek and lifted his mouth into a mischievous smirk.
“Ah, my favourite nephew.” He slapped Derek on the back. “I can’t wait to play tonight.”
Derek scowled and stepped closer to Peter, puffing his chest out and letting his eyes glow in a play of dominance and intimidation. “If you hurt or scare Stiles away, I will end you.”
The whole family tittered – Derek’s father joining with his raucous laugh.
“You hear that, Peter?” Thomas Hale howls. “You better be on you best behaviour tonight!”
Talia’s hand gripped the back of Derek’s neck and the tension bled out from the beta.
She spoke up, “Pack meeting. In the living room. Now.”
The room’s occupants shuffled out of the kitchen under the watchful gaze of their Alpha.
Laura and Cora tussled over the squishy armchair in front of the fireplace (Laura won, being the older sibling and natural successor to Talia’s Alpha powers), while Peter and Tom took over the couch in the centre of the room. Derek didn’t pick a seat, choosing, instead, to stand a few inches behind and to the left of his mother (as befits a beta’s position in a pack) in front of the fireplace in perfect view of everyone.
“I just want to remind everyone that Stiles does not know about werewolves, therefore I ask all of you,” Talia looks at Peter pointedly, “to refrain from using any sort of supernatural power whilst he’s here.” She steps back and sweeps her hand for Derek to step forward.
Derek bowed his head before his mother, before training his gaze on the rest of his family who were sitting suspiciously still in front of him. Derek said, “I am…particularly fond of Stiles,” to a chorus of giggles from his sisters and sharp barks from his father and uncle. Talia just clicked her tongue and the room fell silent. “So, I’ll appreciate it if you guys can make an effort of being nice to him.”
Laura stood up and walked over to give Derek a bone-crushing hug. Derek felt a swell of fondness for his sister. “I promise I won’t show him the baby pictures,” she whispered into his ear. Aaaannndddd there goes that feeling.
The moment Derek broke away from his sister, the doorbell rang out and every wolf in the room froze at the sound of a heart beat jack-rabbiting away outside.
“He’s early,” Peter drawled out, seeming impressed, “And very nervous.”
Derek turned to his Alpha, his eyes taking on that deer-in-the-headlights look. His mother stroked his head, soothingly.
“Go. Laura, Cora and I will finish dinner in the kitchen, your uncle and father will be in the study and when you’re ready to introduce him you know where we are.” Derek pecked his mother’s cheek before moving toward the scent of his mate, feeling his wolf purr contentedly in his chest.
He opened the door only to be met with three bouquets of flowers obscuring Stiles’ face.
“Hello?” Stiles called out amidst the blossoms. “I can’t really see who this is, but would you mind helping me?” He froze. “Unless it’s Mrs Hale, in which case you may take one of these because I bought one for you. The other two are for Laura and Cora. Obviously. I don’t think Derek is a flower person. And I bought whiskey for Mr Hale and…uh…Peter. Why don’t I know Peter’s last name? Is it also Hale? I’ve never asked Derek whether Peter is his mother’s brother or his father’s brother. Anywho, I didn’t bring Derek anything because he gets me and I think I’m prize enough, amiright?” A groan followed the word vomit. “If this is Mrs Hale then I would appreciate it if you can pretend I didn’t just say all of that.”
Derek bit his lip, trying to stifle his laugh. He heard his various family members full-out laughing inside, as well as Cora’s fond: “I like him already.”
Derek grabbed the abundance of flora from Stiles’ arms.
“Oh, it’s you. Thank God.” Stiles said once Derek was in his line of sight. “I am so nervous.”
“Really?” Derek teased. “I never would have guessed.” Stiles used the hand that wasn’t occupied by an extremely expensive whiskey to lightly punch Derek’s arm.
“Shut up and invite me in.” Stiles sniped. Derek stepped back to allow his mate inside the house and was overwhelmed by the feeling of ‘right’ as he picked up on the smell of Stiles’ scent intermingling with his pack’s.
“Come on. My mom’s in the kitchen.” Derek led the way, his arms still occupied by the flowers. Stiles heart beat took up a notch the second he laid his eyes on Talia Hale. He plucked the biggest and brightest bunch of the flowers from Derek’s arms and held it out for Derek’s mother.
“Hey, Mrs Hale. Here are some flowers. I’m not sleeping with your son.” Stiles stepped back the moment Talia had taken the bouquet. Laura hid her giggles underneath fake coughs. “Ugh. I’m normally so much more charming. I promise. I mean…how else did I bag this hottie?” Stiles sidled up next to Derek, mortified. “Oh god. Please just allow me to go drown myself now.”
Talia beamed and stepped closer to Stiles with the intention of pulling him in for a hug. “Consider me sufficiently charmed, Stiles, as long as you call me Talia. And there will be no drowning in my house.” She winked as she pulled back. Stiles seemed to relax, infinitesimally. Derek wondered whether Stiles knew that he was automatically deferring to Talia – it may be more subtle than a wolf but Stiles was definitely radiating submission. (Derek was definitely radiating pride.)
“Then you must be Laura,” Stiles handed her one of the other bunches. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” And Laura – honest to god – blushes. He gives Cora the last bouquet. “My lady’s lips are far more red than coral. Her eyes are exactly like the sun.”
Derek snorted, tugging Stiles closer to him.
“That’s not exactly how that one goes, Stiles.” He whispered into his mate’s ear.
“Oh, hush,” Stiles shushed him, “I was quoting a typical Petrarchan sonnet, not Shakespearean. Don’t try to upstage an English major.”
Derek rolled his eyes, but couldn’t control the fond smile on his lips. By the looks of his sisters’ and mother’s smirks, he thinks they noticed. Derek ducked his head and noticed that Stiles still had a death grip on the bottle of whiskey. He pried the drink from his boyfriend’s fingers and held it up for Cora.
“Take it to Dad and Peter.” He says, shaking the bottle in his grip. Cora rolled her eyes, but acquiesced, grabbing the whiskey from Derek’s hand. She stumbled out of the kitchen before righting herself and walking away with a growl, daring Derek or Laura to laugh at her.
For a werewolf, Cora had always been surprisingly clumsy. (And very sensitive about the fact). She has a tendency of falling over flat surfaces and bumping into sharp corners. It wasn’t unheard of for werewolves to display a human tendency, just rare.
“So, Stiles. How did you and Derek meet?” Laura asks, teeth glinting dangerously in the fluorescent light of the kitchen. Derek was impressed to find that Stiles’ heartbeat remained steady (albeit a little fast, since he hasn’t really calmed down since arriving).
“I don’t-" Derek interrupted, not particularly fond of revisiting his actions when he first met Stiles.
“No, no.” Stiles nudged Derek. “I’m telling them.” He loosened his tie a little, drawing Derek’s eyes to what he was wearing.
Derek sucked in a breath, trying to calm down the rush of heat traveling through him at the sight of Stiles in a three piece suit, with blue pants and a blue vest, matched with a crimson dress shirt. Holy mother of-
“-looked like a lost puppy, scrambling to help me pick up my books.” Everyone, with the exception of Derek who was still admiring his mate, laughed at this. “He was painfully shy.” Stiles continued, glancing up at Derek. “Then later that day, he bumped into me and spilled coffee all over my shirt. And while he was trying to clean me up, he bumped into a waitress with a whole tray of drinks that was sent flying.” Laura gasped for breath, her eye tearing up and her face red with oxygen deprivation, Derek’s mother wasn’t faring any better. “He asked me how he could possibly make it up to me, so I told him to be at my apartment at 7 that night, with a romantic date planned.” Stiles nuzzled his nose into the crook of Derek’s neck and huffed a bit with laughter.
Derek curled his hand around Stiles hip and squeezed him.
Cora entered the room again, took one look at her mother and sister’s red faces and let out a disappointed groan. “I missed something embarrassing, didn’t I?”
“It’s not our fault that you were trying to convince your father to let you have a glass of whiskey.” Derek’s mother teased - an obvious faux stern expression on her face.
“I didn’t.” Cora argued, the blush on her cheeks betraying her words.
“Oh please, we can smell the sip Dad gave you.” Laura countered. Derek tensed, glaring daggers at Laura for letting that slip. Laura caught his eye and immediately looked contrite, obviously having forgotten that Stiles wasn’t aware that they could indeed smell the alcohol on Cora’s breath.
Derek was partly relieved that Laura was that comfortable in front of Stiles, but another part of him was absolutely terrified of how Stiles will react once he realizes that Derek was a werewolf.
“Dinner’s ready. Derek, why don’t you take Stiles to the dining room?” Talia’s voice let no room for argument. Derek, however, felt relieved at the interjection. He put a hand on Stiles’ lower back and steered him out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Stiles stopped in front of a picture that was fixed to the wall next to the living room. A family portrait of every single Hale looking scruffy and covered in mud. In the kitchen behind them, Talia was chastising Laura for her slip-up.
“Oh my god. You were adorable!” Stiles squealed, eyes fixed on the little boy with a bucked-tooth grin in the corner of the picture.
“Were?” Derek growled playfully, nudging Stiles further into the hallway, before turning left and into the dining room.
“Yeah. Your teeth are still adorable, but the rest of you is hot like burning.” The couple startled at the synchronous snorts coming from Derek’s dad and uncle (already seated at the table) whom they hadn’t noticed.
“You hear that, Tom? Hot like burning, he said.”
“I heard, Peter, but most importantly Derek’s teeth are adorable.”
Derek suppressed the growl bubbling up in the back of his throat, surprised when Stiles chuckled next to him.
“Now now,” Stiles started with a teasing tone of voice, much to the surprise of the room’s occupants, “is that the way to treat the guy that bought you whiskey? And what about the fact that I am one of the very few people that can put a grin on this sourwolf’s face?” He pinched Derek’s cheeks with a feral grin, obviously enjoying his boyfriend’s discomfort.
Peter hummed and said, “Sourwolf? What a curious nickname.”
Stiles made to answer with his mouth wide open, but Laura and Cora barged into the room, dishes balanced precariously on their arms, noticeably racing each other. “Let’s sit down.” Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear, steering him to right side of the table and incidentally far away from Peter. Stiles slid into his seat and looked in awe as Laura, Cora and Talia brought in more food than he had seen in his entire life.
“Oh my god. Why did you move out? You could eat like this every day.” Stiles moaned. Derek chortled and lifted Stiles’ plate to start dishing up food – ignoring Stiles’ moans that he had arms and that they were, in fact, capable of doing things.
Talia and Laura took their seats and started to dish as well, while Cora rushed into the kitchen to fetch the mashed potatoes. Derek’s dad was already stuffing pieces of meat into his mouth, much to Stiles’ amusement and Derek’s horror.
“Tom, breathe, swallow.” Talia ordered, rolling her eyes at her husband fondly.
“Yeah,” Stiles added, “you would think you were raised by wolves.”
Cora, who had walked into the room with a bowl clutched in her hand, froze.
As did all the others.
Derek, realizing that it must’ve just been a coincidence that Stiles used such a saying, let out a forced laugh. His family relaxed with hysterical giggles and the moment passed.
“It’s funny ‘cause you guys are werewolves.” Stiles took a bite of a piece of broccoli.
Oh. Derek thought.
Oh.
Then all hell broke loose.
Cora, already pretty clumsy, tripped over a raised lump in the corner of the carpet (the pieces of vase crunching under her feet), sending the bowl of mashed potatoes flying.
Laura, who had been leaning over the table to get at the string beans, jerked and fell face first into the beet salad.
Tom, mouth still bulging with food, started choking, eyes watering.
The mashed potatoes hit the jug of juice in the middle of the table, which in turn dunked into the cranberry sauce and splattered every person at the table.
Only Stiles, Derek thought, could reduce one of the most powerful and well known werewolf packs in North America into spazzes in less than a minute.
The whole table was silent and frozen, staring at Stiles as if waiting for him to say something else completely ridiculous.
“Well,” Peter broke the silence, lifting his knife and fork and cutting into his steak. “I rather like you.” He grinned at Stiles before taking a bite from the meat speared onto his fork.
Stiles just blinked, looking completely speechless.
“How the hell-?” Derek started, closing the front door while keeping his eyes on his boyfriend.
“Sorry, sorry.” Stiles chanted, looking sheepish and apologetic. “I told myself that I would wait until you trust me enough to tell me and then I would tell you that I know.”
“How the hell-?” Derek repeated eyes still wide and mind uncomprehending.
Stiles smiled, “You aren’t really subtle, ya know.” Derek huffed. “And remember Scott?”
Derek cocked his head. “Your friend that goes to school in Chicago?”
“Yeah. He’s kinda an Alpha.”
Derek choked.
Stiles stepped closer and closer until their breaths were intermingling. “Sorry, not sorry.”
Derek breathed in the scent of his mate, unable to keep his wolf from calming down. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Stiles’, the barest touch sending tingles of pleasure through his whole being. He deepened the kiss, almost aggressive with his need to taste Stiles, to consume this amazing person. Stiles let out a breathy moan and Derek slowed down the kiss, leisurely taking his time to relearn Stiles’ mouth – it never ceased to amaze him.
When Derek pulled back, he could see the blue glint of his wolf’s eyes reflecting onto Stiles’.
Derek realized something, “That’s why you like your red hoodie so much.”
His family’s laughs and Stiles’ goofy chortles were like music to the werewolf’s ears.