Chapter Text
The very first thing Derek does when he drives into the tiny town of Slate, tucked somewhere between Beacon Hills and several other states Derek drove through after the dust settled on the latest crisis that pulled him back to that Hellhole, is look for somewhere out of the way he can stay.
Somewhere far enough away from town that the chance of ‘friendly neighbors’ is almost nonexistent. Somewhere where there are fewer chances of innocent lives getting in the way if his rotten luck follows him to Slate. Somewhere where he can slip into his wolf skin and not worry about Hunters shooting holes in his sides…
Somewhere he can finally have a bit of peace.
Turns out that the only place that suits his needs is a house in the middle of the woods, about a good hour away from the rest of the town, on top of a decent sized hill. A quick sniff around, something that he hides from the real estate agent who was already giving him unwanted looks, informs him that there was a family of supernaturals living here at some point. A curt question to the agent tells him they left a good decade ago, and that no one has been interested in the house since, because of it both being a small town and rumors that it was haunted.
Scoffing at that, Derek looks over the building once more, unsure if this is the place he should settle into or not, despite the fact that he really doesn’t have any other options lined up in wait.
It is a rather nice house, though; a large, two story place that will probably feel lonely and empty in the coming months, but also isn’t so small that Derek will feel like he’s caged in or trapped. There are wide, sun facing windows on the upper floors and what looks like what might have been a garden out the back when he had peeked out there during the tour. There is definitely an overgrown rosebush on either side of the entrance way and Derek allows himself to think about using the tricks his mother taught him to prune that back into order, maybe even take his Dad’s teachings to heart and build a deck out to the garden in the back.
The voice in his head, the one that is suspiciously starting to sound more and more like Stiles, whispers that he’d have plenty of room to house a Pack, if he wasn’t such a grumpy old man that would probably hole himself up inside and give credence to the ghost stories floating around.
Derek ignores it.
He still buys the house, though, snapping at the agent when she tries to offer to give him a ‘private showing’ later that night. It makes his inner Stiles sigh, but eventually concede that the woman crossed a line and deserved a bit of fangs.
Pushing away the knowledge that he’s arguing the merits of being nice to people with a voice in his head, Derek begins moving in almost immediately, packing the few things he had stored into boxes and hauling them up the long drive to the house. Whatever he doesn’t have, he buys at the grocery in town, ignoring the whispers of the few people brave enough to wonder why he’s there and what brought him to this town to begin with.
So far, he’s heard; serial killer on the run, newly released from prison, or the black sheep of the family trying to get out from his shenanigan-filled youth to make a fresh start. Derek has to chuckle at that one, even giving the old woman that said it a slight smile. She turns a little red, embarrassed by him hearing her, but other than that she gives him a brief nod and continues on her way.
He doesn’t really let the whispers get to him; he is brand new, and it is only natural to be wary of a stranger when this seems like the kind of town that everyone grew up together in. Derek can’t smell any outright maliciousness, only a bit of annoyance when someone’s partner spends a little too long checking the ‘new guy’ out, so he figures that after a little while, people will probably give him no more attention than he gives them.
All in all, it doesn’t take him that long to move in. A week, given how long it had taken to find the house, buy the house, and get everything together so he won’t have to head into town any time soon.
Which is depressing enough, and makes Derek want to pull down everything that he put together and leave already, but he decides to put his frustration to better use and see if this place has some gym he can abuse.
He drives around for a while and spots a few different places, only one made of brick and looking like it was put together by hand. He walks in and is pleased everyone only gives him a cursory glance before going back to what they were doing. Yes, there had been interest there, but it had been the normal kind that came with someone new entering their space.
After chatting with the receptionist about cost and times the gym was open, Derek sets a tentative date for the following Sunday to go over the rest of the forms and meet the owner of the gym. While the forms were more for the government and the bank, meeting the owner was the real deal breaker on whether Derek could join.
When asked about why that was, the girl had smiled and said, “Alex is fantastic at seeing if someone is coming to exercise or just bother the rest of the patrons. There’s a reason the high roller gyms are practically empty, despite their claims to have ‘everything the strongman needs’ there-”
-this is said with an exaggerated eye-roll, making Derek bite back a grin-
“-while Alex makes sure that everyone here feels comfortable and safe. Whether for exercise or fun, nobody should feel molested while at Barbells and Bench Presses. And that is something you can take to the bank!”
Derek has to laugh at her enthusiasm, not at all bothered by the extra precautions and even considering adding a bit of back-up if this ‘Alex’ ever needed it. As it is, he thanks the receptionist — “Michelle, please!” - for her time and leaves with a smile on his face.
Deciding that he needs a treat for doing so much today — “Actually socializing like a big boy! I’m so proud of you!” — Derek makes his way over to The Beanery, a small coffee shop tucked in between a bookstore and a Mom & Pops store when a faint whimper catches his attention.
It’s both refreshing and upsetting how quickly his body goes into defensive mode, tensing up and pushing back every bit of relaxation and calm that he found, but it still helps keep the pounding of his heart to a minimum as he breathes in the surrounding area.
The scent of coffee and perfumes are strong in the air, but not so strong as to overcome any wolfsbane that might be around… Not getting a hint of any, Derek takes a few steps towards the alleyway bisecting the coffee shop and bookstore, right as another whimper floats out.
Hesitating for a moment, Derek takes another cautionary breath before deciding to make his way into the alley. There had been no scent of metal or wolfsbane, no hints that this could be a trap. It wouldn’t make sense for one to be here, anyway, as this place was far too crowded and-
His thoughts are cut off by a pained yowl and a rattle of something before a small bag falls from behind one of the larger garbage containers sitting in the back, unfolding as it falls and finally revealing the source of the cries.
It’s a dog.
Well, a puppy, really. Some sort of Labrador mix with deep chocolate fur, long gangly limbs, and looking up at Derek with the most pitiful expression that he has ever seen.
“Oh, man…” Derek sighs, reaching down to untangle the pup from the bag around the pup’s legs, large paws eager to help but only making a bigger mess of things. After a quick once over to make sure that there aren’t any serious wounds (and to find out that the little one in his arms is a boy), Derek sighs again as he scratches the puppy behind the ears almost absentmindedly.
“This doesn’t mean I’m keeping you.”
The puppy doesn’t seem to believe him, if Derek was going by the thumping tail against his side, but then again, Derek didn’t even believe himself. It had been a while since he had a pet and he can’t help falling in love a little with the eager energy of the pup in his arms, helped along by the happy tongue licking at his chin.
“Well, keeping you or not, we’d better check that you’re healthy and up to date with all of your shots.” The puppy yips happily in response and Derek shakes his head as he heads towards his car, pulling his keys out of his pocket and coffee now forgotten in his new quest.
“I’m talking to a dog, now. I can already hear the hermit jokes…”
Derek’s inner Stiles laughs at that and makes a comment about how fitting it is that the first genuine connection that Derek made in town was with a puppy.
Shifting gears as he heads to a veterinary clinic he saw earlier; Derek can’t help but agree with that thought.
It doesn’t stop the grin he can feel tugging at his lips, though.
The vet — as far as one might get from a certain cryptic asshole — gives the pup a clean bill of health and a few vaccinations. The ministrations are something that Bean — Derek had considered it fitting, given where he had found the dog — had been pretty against, but had settled down a bit when Derek had promised him a few strips of bacon when they got home.
The thought makes Derek pause in his petting of Bean, something that the dog makes his displeasure of known with a whine. Resuming the motion with only half his mind on the task, Derek wonders at the fact that he’s only been here for a few days, and that it feels more like a home than New York or Beacon Hills, Post Fire ever did.
He supposes that the lack of things trying to viciously kill him is a big contributing factor.
After one last look over, the vet - “Call me Dr. Daithi, please.” - informs Derek that, baring future vaccines and regular checkups, Bean should be fine to take home. At Derek’s surprised look, Dr. Daithi pauses for a moment and offers to keep him at the veterinary, if Derek changed his mind about keeping him.
Either because he can feel the shifting mood or he can understand what some of the words mean, Bean lets out a plaintive howl that jerks Derek out of his confused state.
“Of course I’ll take him. I just thought… that he might have gotten away from someone-”
“Oh! I see the confusion here. My apologies.” Daithi gives Derek a slight smile, crow’s feet wrinkling at the corners of his eyes as he gives Bean a quick scratch behind his ears. “Usually we do have a general search to make sure that the animals in our care are returned to their proper owner, but since this is such a small town and I’m usually the one people come to for pet care, so I can say with almost absolute certainty that this little guy is a hundred percent owner free.”
Derek is a little dumbstruck by this turn of events, but not so shocked that he doesn’t return Bean’s joyous bark with a smile of his own as he picks the puppy up to press him against his chest. Daithi smiles at the motion, nodding once before speaking again.
“I can run a precursory search, though, just to be on the safe side. Would you still be comfortable taking him home with you in the meantime?”
“Ummm, yeah. It’s no problem. Just let me know how it turns out, even if that means no one comes for him… Do you know where I can get some supplies?”
The vet laughs a little, reaching out and giving Bean one last pet behind the ears before walking over to his desk and rattling off some things needed for Bean’s care. Derek tries to remember everything that Daithi tells him, but is grateful that the man gives him a list of things afterward. Derek also leaves his phone number with the man, in case someone does end up coming in and claiming the puppy.
Three hours after leaving the house that morning, Derek comes back with armfuls of dog supplies, a dog, and a lighter heart than he had that morning.
Not bad for a first day.
Bean takes advantage of Derek putting all his gear away to stick his nose into nearly everything in reach, making quite a few things clatter and bang while Derek is otherwise preoccupied. Thankfully, both because he still is putting things away in the lower shelves of his house and he does not have much to begin with, nothing important gets damaged in Bean’s wanderings.
Although all of this just reminds Derek to get some baby proof latches for his cupboards and a gate for the stairs at night. Bean can barely stand on his own paws; Derek would feel incredibly guilty if the pup took a tumble down the stairs and hurt himself, simply because Derek couldn’t be assed to install some safety precautions.
Inner-Stiles coos at what a good pet-Daddy Derek is being, wondering if Derek is putting in practice for when he tries being an actual Daddy-Daddy. Shutting that line of thinking off with a sharp shake of his head, Derek scoops Bean up from where he was investigating his new bed and begins showing him around the house.
“All right; living room. We will rest here and relax. I usually read when the mood strikes me, and you can have free range of the carpet here. You will not be allowed on any of the couches or chairs, I’m serious now.”
Bean gives a brief bark at that, tail wagging in the most innocent way, and Derek has to shake his head at the motion. He knows that he will probably cave on that decision pretty soon, given that he wasn’t even going to keep Bean to begin with, but he now has an armful of puppy and is showing him around the house.
“I was an Alpha once, you know?” Derek tells Bean, accepting the licks the puppy gives his chin and giving him a scratch behind the ears. “People used to be scared of me and crossed the road to avoid talking to me… Now, I’m already thinking about how I will cave into letting you sleep on the couch.”
Cocking his head a bit, Bean yips once more, wiggling a little in Derek’s hold before settling more comfortably against Derek’s chest. Sighing with a defeated air and deciding not to fight absolutely falling in love with the squirming ball of fur, Derek continues with the tour.
“Connected to the living room is the kitchen. This is where we will prepare meals and eat, hopefully more than once a day. I have an awful habit of forgetting to eat when I get focused on things, so you might have to remind me to feed you every now and again.”
At the word ‘feed’, or perhaps because Bean has been scenting the air ever since they entered the room, the puppy immediately starts wiggling again and pushing against Derek to get to the bowls in the corner. With a soft laugh, Derek sets Bean down and watches as he trips his way over to his food, eagerly diving face-first into the kibble.
Looks like you might also need a mop there, Der-Bear.
Frowning in thought, Derek pulls out his phone and thumbs through his messages; there are a few from Cora talking about her adventures in South America, an invitation from an alpha two states over to stop by when he passes through again, and a wall of text from Stiles ranting about the college professor that was ‘basically Harris 2: The Jackass Returns’ a few weeks into the fall semester.
He doesn’t know when Stiles got his number, or why he didn’t change it when he left Beacon Hills. Getting a new number to Cora would have been easy enough, and Stiles was the only one that had his number besides her that used it with any regularity, so it wasn’t like he needed to avoid anyone else calling him out of the blue...
Deciding not to overthink it, Derek points the phone at Bean, clicks a picture, and sends it. After another moment, he adds a text that simply says, “Got a puppy today.”
The response is almost instantaneous; a flurry of beeps and notifications coming in so fast that Derek wonders if Stiles is even typing, or just throwing emojis at him. He would bet on it being the later, based on the speed the texts come in, but knowing Stiles, he could have all kinds of shortcuts on his phone just for quick texting.
Derek decides to leave his reply until the morning. He figured he had enough unfamiliar things happening in one day, and he feels like teasing Stiles by making him wait. It’s a delightful change from checking his phone every second for an answer to a question that might end up saving his life, and he feels a childlike giddiness at seeing bits of Stiles’ incoming texts showing him the man’s affront at being denied ‘important information’.
Like Bean’s name.
Yawning widely, Derek makes sure that Bean is bedded down for the night before heading upstairs, checking that the front door is locked and the windows are closed as he goes.
Plugging in his phone as he makes it to his bed, Derek can't help the smirk that blooms when he imagines the outraged voicemail he has in his future. Stripping down to his boxers, Derek slides under his covers with a sigh, hoping that the next few days are as good as this one.
Just hopefully less eventful.