Chapter Text
It was hellish. There was a traffic jam, not that it mattered to him, he wasn’t driving, but when the traffic was this bad, with everyone and their dead dog out of their house, you could bet top dollar the freaking roads were blocked for miles.
All he wanted was to go to the corner store and buy a gallon of milk. That trip took ten minutes if there was a line at the register. He’d been out for over twenty and he wasn’t even halfway to the store yet; the streets were so crowded he had difficulty finding the store let alone getting to it.
It was the most annoying shit he’d ever had the pleasure of having to deal with.
Why the hell was it such a big deal if Derek Hale came back to town? Seriously, who needed a parade-slash-welcome party made of the whole town? Astronauts who went to space and back didn’t get parades anymore, but Derek Hale? Derek Hale sure as hell got one.
Beacon Hills was alive with the gossip of his return—the return of one of the Hales.
The Hales. Just their name gave him a migraine. To be fair, it was just Abigail Hale who gave him a migraine. But she was a Hale so, by default, the rest of the Hale family also got the brunt of his dislike.
His patience was thinning when he felt an arm loop itself around his neck.
“Stiles, dude, there you are. Your dad said you were getting milk, like, 20 minutes ago. What gives?” Scott, his ever-loving best friend with ‘monthly problems’ and possible disuse in the brains department, looked at him expectantly. Stiles gave him a begrudging look.
“What gives? Do you not see this insane monstrosity before you? You’d think the pope was coming.” To make his point he shoved at another loitering resident of Beacon Hills that was in front of him, managing to make a gap that let him get a little closer to the store. Not that the guy noticed because there’s been way too much shoving already.
Scott gave him a sheepish look. “Oh come on, it kinda is a big deal.”
“Really? The guy goes on his three-year wolf run, or what is normally referred to as a road trip across our great nation, and when he comes back the whole town goes out to greet him. Yes, I can see how much a big deal this is. Clear as day.” Stiles finally reached the store’s door and pushed it open.
“Dude, he’s a Hale. They’re like royalty here.” Scott, amazingly still behind him, followed Stiles deeper into the store, into the aisle where refrigerators lined the walls.
“I don’t care. I don’t see the need for the whole freaking town to go and freaking grovel at his feet in awe. I just don’t see it,” he grunts out as he slammed the door shut.
“Seriously? Or is this the whole grudge thing from Abigail carrying over to the rest of the family again?” Scott asked when they reached the counter.
Stiles gave him a scathing look. He hated it when Scott used his brain.
“Maybe. But still, do you honestly think the behavior the whole town is showing is appropriate for the arrival of one man?” Stiles fired back, paying the man at the counter who was giving him a nasty look for what he was saying about the Hales. Stiles really did not give a crap about the man’s opinion.
“Kinda.” Scott shrugged his shoulders and did that side-smile thing he does. “Sometimes, dude, you act like you weren’t raised in a werewolf community. This is a big deal, as big a deal as it’s being made of: Derek went out on his own for three years, in only his wolf form, no pack, no human beings or werewolves to help and with possible hunters out there that don’t follow a code. He finished his rite of passage. And he wasn’t even in the line for Alpha, he just did it.”
The people started to thin out as they walked back to Stiles house, most of them heading opposite to the town square. Stiles let out a sigh. He had to admit Scott had a point, but there was no hell in way he was actually going to tell Scott that.
“Exactly, he was showing off. He didn’t have to do it. It was completely unnecessary, so why do it? I know why. Because all Hales are out to make my life miserable, that’s why.” He knew that was a stupid argument to make and that it made no sense. This was nothing new. All the Hales did the run, regardless of being in line for Alpha or not.
They were a family of old. They kept to the traditions of old that had all but faded with the centuries. They kept to almost all the traditions, the only exception being the one where they kidnap mates. Now they had evolved and instead had people offering their young to them, served right on the silver platter.
Human, beta, omega, boy, girl, orange, purple, toad (maybe he was exaggerating on the last three), it really didn’t matter. It was an honor to be chosen by the family of the Alpha, even a distant one. Prestige came with it and the Hales have held the Alpha title for as long Beacon Hills has been around.
Which was why today sucked so much for him.
Derek coming back signified a horrifying day. Tomorrow would be the Offering, where you either were good enough to be chosen to be a Hale or were just good enough to be sexual release for someone who was pent up for almost three years where you then you got to go home and brag to all your friends and family about how awesome it was to be basically nothing more than a wanton body.
And if you were neither of those, you were the loser. Usually it didn’t really suck as much when you weren’t the only one—after all there were hundreds of sixteen to twenty-four year olds that applied for the position and only one who’d get it.
It wasn’t about the humiliation so much as the self-loathing that you couldn’t even pass for a sexual release partner, let alone a mate. It was brutal, but if Stiles was being honest with himself, he was probably the only one who saw the Offering day like this in the whole community. Everyone else was excited when it happened.
They reached his house in record time. He opened the milk and added it to the bowl of cereal he had poured earlier he realized they ran out of milk.
Next to it his dad had left him a small sticky note.
Gone, had to go in early. More men were needed to keep order and prevent any stampedes. Love you.
Short and to the point. Stiles picked it up and crumpled it.
Derek Hale ruined his first breakfast with his dad in over three months. Yes, Stiles really hated the guy.
Scott kept to himself after Stiles complained, rummaging around the pantry before joining him on the kitchen table with his own bowl of cereal.
“So,” Stiles said, never one to keep quiet for too long. It was his only flaw in his honest opinion. He was human and exceptionally bright. The latter alone made his mind wander too much and the longer it was quiet, the more his mind wandered around in creepy places it had no place being. It helped when he talked, distracting the thoughts from poking their noses into places they didn’t belong in.
“You going to the Offering?” he asked, trying for casual.
Scott choked on his cereal. Not so casual then.
“What?” Scott managed after trying to cough a lung out and failing.
“The Offering tomorrow, are you going? I don’t know how much clearer I can be about it?” Stiles pushed his cheerios around in the milk. He really wasn’t hungry anymore.
Scott thought for a bit and scrunched his face like it hurt him to do so.
“I don’t know to be honest. I mean, yeah, I really, really have the hots for Allison but it’s not like that’s going anywhere fast with her being a hunter in training and all.” And now Scott was matching Stiles’ unhappy disposition. Not cool. His misery doesn’t like company.
“Hey, come on. It’s not like she’s training to kill you personally. She’s going to be more like the werewolf police for when, you know, your kind does that thing with the teeth and the jugular and the ripping of flesh after eating a bad fish or whatever sets you guys off.”
He tried to make his friend feel better. He might have succeeded if he hadn’t mentioned the flesh-eating thing.
“Seriously though, she’s so epically nice and, for some strange odd reason, she finds your habit of not forming thoughts more profound than fourth-grade literature not off-putting. That’s got to say something.”
He reached across the table to punch Scott on the shoulder.
“You really should say something to her. She’s basically training to be a werewolf cop. I mean, do you see any humans avoiding the police like the plague?” Stiles was a badass friend and anyone who said otherwise would have to say it to his face.
Scott has his megawatt smile on again and looks hopeful. Or it could just be his usual dopy self. Either way it makes Stiles feel a little better.
“Well, after the Offering tomorrow, I’ll ask her.”
Scott looks determined and Stiles just raises an eyebrow.
“Why wait until tomorrow? The day is still young!”
Stiles spread his arms out dramatically.
“Dude, do you want to go the Offering alone tomorrow?” Scott looked at him expectantly.
“No, god, no.” Stiles thanked all the deities he knew that Scott was a werewolf and had the whole pack mentality going for him. Maybe Scott using his brain more often wasn’t such a bad thing. “Can you imagine me there all alone? I’d probably give myself a panic attack. Wouldn’t that be pretty? Foaming at the mouth and twitching, the very picture of sexiness if I do say so myself.”
Stiles relaxed and he felt more like himself than he ever today.
“So, what do you think it will be like tomorrow?” Scott asked, because as Stiles’ friend, he naturally shared some qualities with Stiles. One of them being that Scott hated the quiet as much as he did.
“The usual. We’re all lined up for the slaughter, holding our breath, and before us will sit his royal annoying highness that is Derek Hale. Behind him watching full of pride and stuffy-ness, yes that’s a word, would be the rest of the Hale family. Fun. Like someone raking their nails over the chalkboard fun,” he finished lamely.
Scott just chuckled at him. “Who do you think will he choose? I’m thinking for dudes, it will be Brad the mechanic and for girls I’d have to say Lydia.” He winced after saying her name, knowing full well that Stiles was pining after her. Actually the whole town knew.
He still wasn’t with Lydia. He wasn’t sure why since he had asked her directly and professed his love to her face over a dozen times but hey, he’s Stiles. What else is he going to expect?
“I’m with you on the whole Lydia thing, as much as it pains me, but I can totally see it. If he actually does not choose her, I’m going to think there’s something wrong with him. She’s everything and a little bit more wrapped in a nice curvy package with beautiful lips, eyes that could kill, and strawberry-blonde hair. As for guys, I’m hoping Jackson. Really, really hoping it’s Jackson if Derek goes for guys.”
He looked at Scott who was staring at him, confused.
“I can’t think of a more hellish thing to put douche Jackson through than having to bottom. Can you?”
Scott just laughs and Stiles joins him because, honestly, he could just imagine Jackson’s outraged face and yeah, it was that funny.
Somewhere, he heard loud cheers. Even if he hadn’t, Scott suddenly perking his head up would have informed him. Derek Hale had officially entered Beacon Hills territory.
Losing any appetite he might have gotten back, Stiles got up and put his bowl in the sink with Scott following close behind.
The living room sofa called out to him and he collapsed on it. Today would have been a school day but hey, Derek. So free day and they had planned it to be an XBOX 360 day except Stiles couldn’t bring himself to actually attempt to play so he settled for searching Netflix. He quickly lost himself in movies, letting his brain rot.
The next thing he knew, he heard his dad pull up. He looked up and noticed it was already past six in the evening and, aside from going to answer the door to get pizza and the occasional toilet break, he and Scott hadn’t moved an inch.
“Seriously boys, did you actually accomplish anything today?” his dad asked when he entered, removing his hat. He stared at the two.
Scott gave his sheepish little smile. Stiles just raised an eyebrow at his parent with apparently very high expectations.
“Dad, what do you think? If it makes you feel better we actually answered the door instead of making the delivery guy come in? So in a way we did?”
His dad rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water.
“Better than nothing. You two missed Derek coming in.”
Stiles groaned and the sheriff turned to Scott for an explanation, who only shrugged.
“He looked good. Tired, but good,” his dad offered.
“Are you trying to pimp him out to me? ‘Cause just don’t.” Stiles was not going to have any of this.
“What? No, I just meant it as an observation. Why would I pimp him out?”
His dad took a seat on the chair across from him.
“The Offering tomorrow,” Scott said, supplying the answer.
His dad grimaced but chose not to make a comment by taking a swig from the bottle of water instead.
“You think it would go unnoticed if I didn’t go?” Stiles lifted his head up from the sofa pillow to look at the two.
“What do you think?” Scott asked. His dad remained quiet.
“Yes?” he offered.
“No, everyone would notice. You tend to stick out like a sore thumb. And you’re the sheriff’s son, making you something like, the human royalty to theirs.”
Scott helped in his own way, which was not really. The guy couldn’t lie to make Stiles feel better for a whole second? What kind of a friend was he?
“Royalty my ass. Whatever.” He put his head down once more, trying to suffocate himself with the pillow. He heard his dad stand up.
“Well, the both of you seem to be doing alright. My break’s almost over so I’m going. I’ll try not to be late tonight, shouldn’t have too much paper work. You two clean up the mess in the living room before I return,” he heard his dad say before hearing his footsteps and the front door open and close.
They were alone again, that quiet that hung in the air.
“I wonder how good he looks.”
“Shut up, Scott,” Stiles mumbled and turned to face the TV.