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Derek thought he saw everything until now. He was born a werewolf, he dealt with Darachs, Alpha packs, Nogitsunes, he met a true alpha, he was an alpha, a beta and an omega, he killed his own uncle then he brought him back. But a dragon? Really? Something just go over Derek's knowledge. But here's the best part: it's Stiles' dragon about Derek and Scott never knew anything. Just Lydia.
"Stiles, are you telling me that you had a dragon since you were eight and your mother died?" Derek asks, pinching the bride of his nose in frustration.
"Yep."
"And you never felt the need to tell your best friend that you have one? Or to your boyfriend?"
"Mom said I shouldn't! And speaking of that, it was just an egg that time, now it just barely hatched!" the brown eyed protested, huffing and crossing his arms.
"I think Stiles is right." Scott softly speaks. Of course the True Alpha is defending his best friend. "Probably he told Lydia about the dragon because she would have helped him a lot more than I could."
Derek looked at the dragon. What does it eats? How much does it eats? Does it sleeps? Does it needs a nest? Does it likes the werewolf meat? Or better, can Stiles control it?
"Can you control it?" Derek asked, cautiously.
"....does he looks like a dog to you?" Stiles asked, offended, petting dragon's scales.
"No, but I want to know if I'm going to kill your pet to live or not." Derek growled. The dragon growled back, snapping his shark-like teeth. "Keep that thing away from me."
"Hey, hey, watch your mouth, Genim is not a thing, is a being just like you." Stiles said, keeping close the dragon. “And I doubt that he can qualify as a pet.”
The dragon was not that big, but it casually reached Derek's hip. It was covered in orange scales, the belly was in a lighter shade, and his eyes (or hers?) were green, just like the skin on his (her) wings. And Stiles named it Genim. So... it was a boy?
"I'm...sorry." Deek said, half sighing-half whispering.
The dragon yelpped towards Derek, somehow leaning towards him. Stiles grinned.
“See? Genim can play nice, if you play nice.” he says, dragging Derek next to him, and putting werewolf’s hand on dragon’s head.
Derek reluctantly dragged his hand on Genim’s orange scales, carefuly avoiding the spikes from his back. The dragon made a sound that sounded dangerously like
a purr, and Derek’s eyebrows shot up. This was a dragon, not a cat.
“Hey, hey, no judging, Judge McJudgerson.” Stiles laughed. Derek laughed too.
***
Once, the dragon saved their asses. Okay, not once, but Derek didn’t want to push it. That was one special time, when everybody was on the ground, bleeding or groaning in pain. They were up against a nasty, old witch, whom Liam accidentally pissed off. It wasn’t his fault, Derek knew that, but it was fine on his book to blame someone.
“I see that the mighty McCall pack is not at poweful as they say it is.” she coughes above them, laughing.
Derek winces, her laugh sounds like glass shattering, or like nails on a blackboard. He tries to rise, but his left side is very wounded and bleeding. And on top of that, she cast a spell on everyone werewolf so they could not heal. Derek will never, ever try to help a granny again. He will probably run with his Camaro over her and have no regrets. Better safe than sorry.
“Not all of it is down, old lady.” Stiles spits out and from behind a tree, Genim, much larger now, goes out and roars.
Stiles grins, bloody and with a glint of madness in his eyes. Derek grins along, the ends of his mouth twitching upwards involuntarly. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Derek saw Stiles training Genim. It was a friday afternoon thing, something that just of the three of them did. It was like playing with a dog.
Genim flashed his green-purple eyes (because yes, his eyes flared purple, because he belonged next to the pack, he was a part of the pack, but his eyes couldn’t be golden beta, so they were ‘freakishly purple’) at the woman, making his way towards her.
“This is impossible! There are no eggs left in America!” the old lady screeched.
“Well, look again lady, ‘cause this dragon’s foot will probably make you resemble a pancake.” Stiles says and Genim lunges forward, pinning the witch to the ground, almost sitting on her, covering her mouth with one paw and with the other one holding her down.
The witch wails and screams, tries to kick Genim, but she only manages to break her left leg and scratch the right one in the spikes from Genim’s tail. Derek has never been so grateful for that huge-ass dragon until now
***
Genim is there when Stiles gets his first tattoo. He became a witch, mage, druid, however Deaton would like to call, Stiles just calls himself ‘Gandalf’, and he could do a lot of spells. Like the one cast on Genim, that makes him look like a dog when they are outside. Lydia is there too, and she holds the mini-dragon on her lap like she holds her dog. Or purse. Or something between, Derek has no respect for the small dogs.
Stiles wants to tattoo something strange, clawmarks like his skin was ripped, and beneath a triskele. It matches Derek’s tattoo in a strange way, but Derek likes it. Everything is ‘in a strange way’ with Stiles, and Derek wouldn’t have it any other way.
Genim perches on top of Stiles chair and holds his hand, and Derek holds his pinkie. Lydia is next to him, texting with Kira and Malia, but smiling and keeping Stiles from passing out. Derek was filled with warmth inside. It was nice, cozy, if you ignored the groans of pain and sometimes the moans he let out that made Derek harder and Genim’s gaze to judge him.
Yeah, the dragon could smell scents.
Derek’s smile never left his face. It was awkward, it was strange, Derek didn’t understood the most part of it, but hell, it was the best thing in his life.
Fin.