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The first time Stiles saw Derek in his alpha form, he was pretty sufficiently terrified. It wasn’t anything like the weird gross werewolf thing he did when he was half shifted (or Beta shifted, he started calling it), not really wolf but nowhere near man. It was a beast all of its own and anyone with a sane bone in their body would be completely terrified.
Around the twentieth time of seeing it, Stiles wasn’t even scared as he reached out to scratch behind Derek’s ears. He was like a weird little werewolf puppy, who liked scratches and to fetch and brought Stiles dead animals. He’d tackle Stiles to the ground and lick him all over, encouraged by his laughter and would back off the minute the tone of Stiles’ voice changed.
And while Derek the man tried not to acknowledge the bond Derek the werewolf had with Stiles, it was there and Stiles knew they’d always have the full moon when Derek felt free enough and safe enough to fully change, to howl out orders to his pack and know they were safe.
--
It’s Stiles first break from college. The November chill is in the air all around Beacon Hills and he’s exhausted after powering through mid terms on a mix of red bull and coffee, just wants to do the traditional Stilinski thanksgiving dinner of diner food with his dad and collapse for a good couple of days before he has to go back and do it all again. Stiles misses his dad when he’s away, because it’s been just the two of them for a long time, and while he’s got his friends at school and everything, he worries, because friends and family aren’t always the same thing. Family is what’s in Beacon Hills and his new friends aren’t close enough yet, haven’t been through the ringer with him yet. Or ever, he hopes.
Thanksgiving and the full moon coincide, and all the way home, Stiles hears howls coming from the forest. His dad thinks they’ve got a bunch of coyotes running around and Stiles will never correct him, doesn’t want him involved in the shit storm that werewolves get anyone. He’ll ignore them for the night though; see them tomorrow when they’re not all charged up on the pull of the moon and actually nice reasonable people that he loves, so it’s not a big deal.
At least that’s what he thinks before he sees Derek fully shifted on his bed, presumably dozing peacefully. Stiles smiles and moves to his bed, scratches Derek behind the ears and nuzzles into his fur until he feels his weight shift under him, Derek wrapping a strong furry arm around him, pinning him down to the bed. Stiles only kicks his shoes off and settles in for the night.
Stiles wakes up a little before dawn when he feels the weight on the bed shift. He opens his eyes slowly, catches sight of Derek, a very naked fully human Derek, digging through his drawers for something to wear, so he can presumably sneak out. Stiles stares for a few seconds, because he’s only human and Derek’s ass is something glorious to behold.
“You missed me.” He finally says, and well, not many people can startle Derek Hale. Stiles counts it as a personal victory when Derek nearly jumps, looking back to the bed and him with wide eyes, quickly pulling up a pair of track pants Stiles had gotten from the lacrosse team in high school.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Derek’s a shit liar and everyone knows this by now, so Stiles just laughs and reaches out for Derek when he tries to skirt by, uses all his sleepy strength to tug him back to the bed.
“You can’t just break into my house and cuddle me as a wolf, asshole, I need human affection too.” So, he’s half on top of Derek, nose pressed into his chest, but it just means Derek can’t move without a fight. Stiles calls it morning victory number two when Derek relaxes slightly under Stiles heavy weight and easy touch of fingers on his side, because Derek needs the affection just as much as Stiles does.
If his dad comes in later that morning to find his son curled up against his deputy, he doesn’t say a word. It’s nice to see the two of them without the heavy weight of the world on their shoulders.
--
There are times when Stiles gets over the beauty of the classic Camaro to make fun of Derek and his obsession with muscle cars. It’s this sleek thing, black and loud and fast, this beast from 69. Stiles likes to remind Derek that he’s thirty four and an adult and that it makes no sense to have it when they’ve got kids and nieces and nephews and Scotts who want to ride in it but can’t.
There are other times though, nights when Scott and Allison are babysitting Laura and John, when they can take the car out. It’s nights like these, when they drive out to the ravine and sit on the hood of the car and look up at the stars, when they can breathe and forget about work and the pack and the kids, when it’s just Derek and Stiles and their chance to entwine their hands without feeling sticky or hearing screaming a second later. Its nights like when the back seat is big enough to make Stiles feel sixteen again, full of butterflies and useless words.
It’s for nights when they see the headlights of a deputy’s car and stop what they’re doing with a sharp intake of breath, until the deputy inside sees the plate and keeps on moving. It’s for their peels of laughter and Derek’s eager kisses and Stiles’ roaming hands. For whispered words and promises for the future. It’s for nights they can feel young and alive and free and forget they have a toddler and a baby at home, because there are some things in the past worth reminiscing.
--
Stiles figures it was the wolf that loved him first. Derek the man was broken, but the wolf never was. Derek liked to think of himself in different terms, in wolf and man, but for Stiles, he was always one in the same. He loved the wolf, he loved Derek. It took a long time to repair the damage done to him years before, and Stiles knows that sometimes Derek still loses faith, still doesn’t trust that his world won’t crumble around him. He speaks in terms of two beings sharing one body, but Stiles doesn’t mind, he loves all of Derek anyway. He learned a long time ago that there was nothing to fear from this big bad wolf.