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Let me tell you a secret about grandma's house.
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There was a boy in woods.
Derek crouched at the base of a tree and watched, once his nose brought him close enough. A seeker. He was even wearing a red hood, though it was attached to a jacket not a cape. A traditionalist, but not. Derek snorted to himself and crouched lower.
Waiting. Watching.
The boy wasn't walking. Wasn't even moving. He just stood, still and patient in the hole of light left by a tree that had fallen in the last year, his head turned up toward the light. Like he was waiting for something.
His scent wasn't quite right. He was Derek's, that much was clear by how Derek had been drawn in, but he didn't smell like prey. His scent was more guile than fear or naiveté.
Eventually the boy sighed and turned, letting Derek see past the hood for the first time. Older than he thought. Younger than he thought. Too old to be unaware of what he was doing. Too old to not know how dangerous the woods could be.
Too young to need this so badly to seek it out anyway.
There was no urge to hunt, to chase, to catch, so Derek merely waited. He waited while the boy started to move. Watched the way his eyes lit almost wolf-gold in the dappled sunlight. Saw the way that when he moved, all of him moved.
Another scent intruded, as familiar as blood, and Derek lifted his eyes to meet his uncle's stare past the shoulder of that red coat.
The boy was his seeker. His. But he was going the wrong way.
"Hey."
His feet were light over the trunk of the fallen tree before he realized he meant to move. Planted firmly on the leaf littered ground before the seeker had turned, eyes wide and startled at his intrusion.
"These woods are dangerous, you know."
The seeker just stared at him for three beats of his heart, mouth gaping open before snapping closed as the seeker...threw his arms out, with an exasperated sigh.
"Look, I don't need any help, alright? In fact, the last thing I need right now is a hunter. So just...go away and leave me alone, okay?"
Hunter. He thought Derek was a hunter.
His seeker was an idiot.
Derek snorted and stepped closer, raising an eyebrow at his seeker's belligerent expression. "Why? Looking for wolves?"
"Just one," the boy's easy answer froze Derek's heart for a moment, and he could hear his uncle laughing in the distance.
The seeker sighed noisily and started walking, but he was turned away from Derek's uncle at least. "Whatever. You've probably scared them all off anyway. I'll come back later."
And the idiot was moving to put in headphones. Derek growled and followed, snatching the white cords away before the idiot could completely block the world out. "Are you insane?"
The seeker shrugged, mouth curved down in an exaggerated and ridiculous curve. "I dunno. I mean, I'm not the one accosting strange people who want nothing to do with me, after all. Oh, and jerking earbuds out of their ears, without so much as a by-your-leave. Soooo, I'd say, no." He nodded, lips firm and looking up, to the side, anywhere but at Derek. "I'd say you're the crazy one."
Hunters weren't, really, that much safer than wolves.
His seeker was mad.
"You're walking. In the woods. Alone." Derek bit out, trying to enunciate and speaking slowly and clearly with the hope that sheer determination would get his point across. "You were blocking out your ability to hear danger." The boy was looking him now, but he failed to look impressed, even when Derek shook the earbuds in his face. "You are going to get eaten."
"I'm Stiles."
Derek stared down at the hand he was being offered. Ten heart beats, but it didn't lower or withdraw. It just hung there like an offering of pale flesh and blood. Connection.
He took the hand and blinked when the boy, Stiles, startled, staring down as though he'd done something strange.
"Derek," he offered, before tugging at their joined hands. He could still sense his uncle, so that was one threat easily avoided. Stiles had sounded like he was going home, and there were other traces of his scent in that direction. Probably the way he'd come, so he could go back that way.
They'd only made it a few feet before Stiles was laughing. "Okay. Um. Nice to meet you, Derek?" He nearly slipped on a patch of leaves and Derek stepped back, twisting their hands to help keep Stiles upright without hurting him or losing contact. "Yeah. Thanks. Uh, but. What are you doing? And why are we holding hands?"
"Leading you out of the forest."
"Ooookay?"
His seeker was an idiot.
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There is no grandmother, and there is no house. There's no single or set road to get there, and the path doesn't always exist.
Grandma's house isn't a place. It isn't a thing. Grandma's house is a concept.
It's risk. It's reward.
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He slept near the forest's edge, and when Stiles came back the next day, he was waiting.
Stiles didn't have his ears blocked, so Derek let him pass into the woods. Followed him just out of sight and sound. Circled him when the seeker stood still.
Kept everything else away, until Stiles left.
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Grandma's house is connection that's deep, lasting and true. But to get there, you have to go through the woods. (Sometimes there are actual woods. Sometimes there aren't.) There are wolves. There are hunters. There are hardly any paths, and no telling where they lead.
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"What do you think you're doing, Derek?"
He snarled at his uncle, but Peter just smiled, leaned in until their breath mingled.
"This isn't what a wolf does, nephew."
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If you want to get to Grandma's house, you have to find your own way through the woods.
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"Oh, come on." Stiles raised his arms and dropped them in an extravagant huff.
Derek just raised his eyebrows and waited while Stiles looked increasingly expectant.
"I told you," Stiles said, practically biting the words out. "You're not helping."
"Maybe I don't want to help." Derek shrugged, stepping into Stiles' space and grinning as the boy swallowed, his scent twisting. "What are you doing here, Stiles?"
"I told you. I'm looking for a wolf."
He leaned in, letting his question brush against Stiles' cheek. "Why?"
Stiles swallowed and looked away, but he didn't back off. Didn't back down. "Hey, I'm the seeker here. That's my business, not yourrrshit."
"You would think so, wouldn't you."
HIs fangs were out without thought. Stiles' face went lax with shock as Derek turned, putting himself between his uncle and the seeker. Peter grinned from his space in the trees, his beast on open display.
"The seeker is mine," Peter said mildly, pointing his chin toward Stiles. "Why are you interfering?"
"Because he's mine."
Fingers slipped between his claws, fragile and unafraid.
"Come on Derek," Stiles said. "Let's go."
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It's risk. It's reward.
You have to ask yourself if it's worth it.
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Peter lets Stiles draw him away. Lets them leave.
"What are you doing?"
Stiles turns back and gives him a lopsided smile. "Leading you out of the forest, dumbass."
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(It's always worth it, if you live.)