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“Mmmrgh!”, Stiles mumbled in tired exasperation. It was already 1 am and he couldn’t study for another second. This had become his routine, keeping himself so terribly occupied that thinking about Lydia was all but impossible. His room had become a fortress of solitude; only breached for food, school, and bathroom breaks.
He had been a shut-in since the night when all the chaos had come to a head. No more Gerard, no more Kanima, and... Stiles swallowed hard at the last thought, no more Lydia.
Surprisingly though after these past few weeks Lydia's rejection wasn't so hard to deal with anymore. He was more than content to see her happy, and in recent days he felt like he only pined over her for all those years because she was so unattainable. When she actually noticed him, he realized he didn't even know what to do!
In the low light of his bedside lamp Stiles tugged off his jeans and the simple grey t-shirt he was wearing and snuggled in under his covers. He was drifting off to sleep, his last conscious thoughts about his crazy life and all the weird turns it had taken.
"No more Lydia." Stiles murmured quietly. His mouth curved upwards, already asleep.
-
"Stiles!"
Stiles practically shot out of bed at the sound of Scott's voice, "Jesus, Scott! Give a guy a heart attack much, really insensitive!" he snarked while chucking his pillow at the teenage boy climbing through his window.
"My bad", was all his friend could think to say. "I tried knocking, but you, Sleeping Beauty, were snoring too loud to hear me."
"Thanks Prince Charming" the sarcasm bubbling beneath Stiles' words almost palpable. Stiles rubbed his eyes, banishing sleep from them. "Did you need something? Or is this just a social visit at 8am on a Sunday?"
"It's math!" Scott replied, with a look of fear in his eyes that Stiles had never seen. Not even when Scott was facing down angry Kanimas and crazed hunters. "I don't get it! Any of it! The final is on Wednesday dude, I'm so screwed."
"I presume you are here to get help from the amazing Stilinski; Master of trigonometry!" Behind his jest Stiles couldn't help but feel a little guilty. They hadn't seen much of each other since the insanity had ceased; Stiles had opted to wallow and study. It was the perfect excuse to stay in, and it would keep Scott away too. He was pretty sure Scott had a legitimate allergy to it, even with that wolfy little immune system of his.
Scott's answer genuinely surprised him. "I've been studying on my own, and actually have a good handle on almost everything." His mouth twisted with disgust, "except for math..."
"Alright," Stiles grumbled groggily wishing he hadn’t thrown his pillow so that he could bury his head beneath it, "get your books out and I'll help, but I want to brush my teeth first."
"Good idea." Scott quipped. "Maybe take a shower too, while you’re at it, you kinda stink bro."
"Keep your rude thoughts to yourself! It's not my fault you can smell everything in a fifty mile radius." Stiles retorted, and with that he headed to the bathroom.
-
They finally stopped studying around seven that night; they had made astonishing progress. Even with the snack break Scott insisted on every hour and the all of the Allison and Lacrosse talk.
"It's been too long since we've done this Stiles, I missed you.” Scott said as he zipped his bag.
"What, studied?" Stiles asked tilting his head to the side jokingly.
"Seeing each other! Hanging out! You know, doing what friends do."
"Your eloquence is astounding, but sentiment noted. I will be around more, I just needed some time after all the crazypants shit."
"Good", replied Scott as he climbed out the window, "don't be a stranger." He flashed Stiles a smile and jumped down into the night.
Stiles stood by his window, watching as Scott walked into the forest, thinking about the past few weeks and the things Scott had said.
Lydia didn't once cross his mind.
-
Exams were over, Stiles knew he had done well, and Scott actually seemed fairly confidant too. They were in Stiles' jeep on their way out to Derek's decrepit haunt in the woods. Strangely Derek had requested Stiles’ presence, and so here they were, doing his bidding. Again.
"He's been so much worse than usual," Scott whined. "All we ever do is train, it's like he's prepping for the apocalypse, but for the first time we have no actual threat!"
Stiles glanced at Scott, only taking his eyes off the road for a second. "It actually kinda makes sense. What better time to hone your senses and all that Jedi jazz than when you can completely focus, and aren't distracted and waiting for the next catastrophe."
"I guess,” Scott allowed. "just be grateful you aren't included in it, knowing Derek he'd make us track you down through the woods and use you as a chew toy!"
"I am nobody's chew toy!" Stiles squeaked indignantly. "Derek wouldn't do that anyways, I can't heal like you do and I bruise like a peach."
Silence fell over Stiles as they turned the corner and the Hale house loomed before them. It looked as it always did: sad and empty; a large tombstone in the forest, forgotten by all but few.
"You alright?" Scott asked, smelling Stiles' trepidation.
"Yeah, I'm good, this place just gives me the willies. Not to mention the fact that Derek is probably inside, or lurking in the bushes somewhere."
As if in response to his name Derek Hale opened the front door and just stood there with a look that betrayed nothing, well... perhaps constipation, Stiles thought. He lingered in the doorway for all of five seconds before turning and heading into the house, leaving the door open in an unspoken invitation.
"That must be Derek speak for hey guys, come on in!" Stiles said. Scott just sighed and they headed in.
Derek stood at the top of the grand staircase, in the not so grand house. "Do you do that for dramatic effect?" asked Stiles as Scott shuts the door behind them. "Lurk in the shadows I mean, and take the strategic high ground like we're going to attack you."
"I'm not worried about you hurting me... physically." Derek said flatly with a twinge of... something, emotion maybe? "You bruise like a peach anyways, right?" Stiles flushed with embarrassment that Derek had overheard that. He sensed that wasn't all Derek had wanted wanted to say, or how he had wanted to say it. He used the insult as a cover.
"What do you need Stiles here for? Aren’t we just training?" Scott asked as Derek walked down the stairs and gestured for them to follow him.
"Pack meeting." Was all Derek gave them.
"Pack meeting?" Stiles questioned, "What do you need me here for then? I'm just Scott's gangly, happy-go-lucky sidekick."
Derek whipped around and glared at Stiles, and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Stiles saw burning red embers in Derek's usually beautiful green eyes. Wait? Beautiful, Stiles meant piercing. That still wasn't much better. But now wasn't the time for an internal argument, Derek was probably going to rip out his throat.
"Shut. Up. Stiles." Derek snarled through gritted teeth. Again Stiles felt like that wasn't all Derek had wanted to say, his grip on Stiles didn't loosen until Scott cleared his throat. Derek seemed to have forgotten his presence.
Derek pushed Stiles away with a light shove, and started walking again. All Scott and Stiles could do was follow.
-
After about fifteen minutes of walking in awkward silence, God how Stiles hated awkward silence, they came upon a clearing in the woods. The sun was beginning to set, and the low, warm light lit the place with a glow.
Isaac, Boyd, Erica, And Jackson were already there. Surprisingly, Lydia was there as well, snuggled close next to Jackson. And perhaps more surprisingly, Stiles was unbothered by her presence and proximity to Jackson. There was a decent sized fire crackling in the middle of the circle, it was beginning to cast shadows now that the sun was fleeing.
"Sit." Derek said, and they did. Stiles sat between Scott and Derek, instantly wishing that he could trade places with Scott, but he didn't think there was a polite way to do it so he suffered in silence.
-
Most of the meeting was boring to Stiles. There was talk of past dangers, and whether they still posed much, if any, threat. Control and anchors were brought up as well, apparently Lydia was Jackson's which made perfect sense. Stiles smiled at that, glad that Lydia was happy, Jackson too he supposed.
"Stiles", Derek said for the second time, Stiles had been too lost in thought to hear his name the first time.
"Mmh?" he mumbled, gathering his thoughts. "What?"
"Pay attention for once could you, this actually involves you." Derek stood and began pacing outside the circle while Stiles muttered about manners under his breath.
"We need to intensify our training. And you two," he said looking from Stiles to Lydia, "need to start training; even though you can't outmatch a werewolf in a fight, that doesn't mean you can't outsmart one.”
"I need you to be able to protect yourself, if I...if one of us isn't there to do the job." This time Derek's eyes were focussed solely on Stiles.
Stiles fidgeted under Derek's gaze, there was something strange going on, and either everyone was oblivious to it, or else they already knew and just weren't letting Stiles in on the secret.
"Ha-?" Stiles said, making no effort to mask his disbelief, which caused his words to flop. He chortled loudly, "have you seen my level of coordination? I'm like a drunk toddler half the time, I doubt I can learn much in the way of self defense to be of any help, to myself or anybody else."
"He's got a valid point." Lydia added, "Though he doesn't give himself enough credit, it seems almost a waste of time."
Derek spoke again, voice low betraying a hint of irritation, "If you'd let me finish."
Stiles bowed his head and waved his hand as if to say, 'we're all ears.'
"I've no doubt that even the weakest Omega could tear you both to pieces with ease." Stiles felt a tad indignant about his word choice, but he knew Derek was stating fact, not mocking them.
"Both of you are smart," Derek shoots a look at Stiles, "even if some of you act otherwise. As the Alpha, I have to ensure the safety of the pack."
Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but Derek glares with a look that makes him shut it again. "The whole pack."
"You need to learn how to cover your tracks, mask your scents, and hide. It'll be difficult but it's not impossible."
From the look on Lydia's face Stiles could tell she was mulling it over, but would likely agree. It was hard to disagree with an Alpha, even though Stiles still wasn’t sold on the whole pack thing, and his membership in it.
"Like I said before, you can't outfight a werewolf, but you can outsmart one" Derek finished, looking at Scott as if to accentuate his point.
"We begin tonight."
The sun had set and all had gone silent, the only sound was the occasional crack of the fire, and the wind rushing through the trees, though it had nowhere to be.
-
They had been at it for nearly three hours when Stiles finally collapsed next to the fire in exhaustion. Derek had tasked Isaac with hunting him, and even though Stiles knew it was only training, he was still terrified to be chased by a werewolf through the woods. He doubted that would ever change. Stiles had been caught about fifteen times in these past hours, and though it took Isaac longer each time, it didn't change the fact that he was sore, grouchy, cold, and not to mention tired.
Not long after, Lydia came out of the woods with Scott, her tracker, she looked much more disheveled than usual. Her long strawberry blonde locks had more than a few twigs in them, and she was covered in dirt.
Stiles didn't look much better, worse in fact. He had scrapes all over his arms and a few bruises on his neck from when he had taken a particularly nasty fall.
Isaac came running into the clearing, looking down at Stiles with one eyebrow cocked, "Just giving up then?"
"Mhnn," was all Stiles could get out on his first try. "I'm so tired." he whined, only a little pathetically for dramatic effect.
Isaac just shook his head and chuckled lightly, before settling down himself, his tired eyes soon becoming lost in the tongues of fire.
Boyd, Erica, and Jackson didn't make their appearance for another ten minutes, they loped out of the trees looking worse than Stiles felt, and that was saying something. Stiles had overheard Derek tell them to practice two-on-one fighting. The bruises, claw, and bite marks showed that they each had the crap kicked out of them by the other two, and then returned the favor.
"Anybody know where Derek is?" Erica inquired, looking for all the world as though she really couldn’t care less.
"Can't be far," Stiles said, "somebody had to keep the fire stoked."
"Speak of the devil." Scott replied as Derek stalked out of the trees.
Stiles swallowed, not turning to look at him, his tired mind too enchanted by the fire, thinking Scott's description was almost too accurate.
At the moment though, Derek's eyes remained their crystalline green hue.
Derek slung a large black duffel bag on the ground. It landed next to Stiles with a thud. "Oh God!" Stiles moaned, "is this more training? I can't take any more.”
Derek sat down next to Stiles, and unzipped the duffel bag. Stiles was truly shocked by what Derek threw at him. Marshmallows!
"OMG yes!" Stiles practically vibrated with excitement. " Pleeease tell me you have chocolate and graham crackers! Oh and sticks too!!!" he squeaked, as usual his inner child won out.
For the first time since he’d arrived Derek actually looked at Stiles with what one could almost call a half grin. But he did a double take and the grin quickly turned into a snarl.
"Whoa," Stiles eeked out, "it's no big deal, I don't need chocolate anyways."
Not even halfway through his sentence, Derek was up and had yanked Isaac by the scruff of his shirt. His eyes were a deep red now, the fire paled in comparison. Derek was fully wolfed out, looking like he was seriously contemplating murdering Isaac right then and there.
"How dare you!" he raged at Isaac. "You hurt him! I should kill you right here."
Stiles was confused as fuck, no, that was putting it lightly. He was in another universe; one where nothing made any sense.
"Derek!" Stiles shouted, his voice strangely steady. Knowing Derek would listen, "put him down, now. It was my own clumsiness! I took a couple of hard falls, he never touched me."
The manic look in Derek's eyes didn't dissipate. "Not to mention the hypocrisy of what you're saying. I can't count how many bruises I've gotten from you, getting me up close and personal with walls, and trees, not to mention my steering wheel!"
Derek looked guilty at that, and slowly let Isaac go, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He stalked back to his spot next to Stiles and sat again. His breaths still fumed but, but he slowly reverted to human mode while muttering under his breath about bubble wrap.
After a few minutes the awkwardness dissipated and everyone began chattering. Everyone that is, except for Stiles, he was totally immersed in thought; well not so immersed as to miss Derek's sidelong glances at his neck.
Derek dug through the bag once more and pulled out a few roasting sticks. Handing one to Stiles and lightly throwing the rest in the direction of the others. Stiles wasted no time in spearing six marshmallows and slowly incinerated them over the open flame.
“So,” Stiles said softly to Derek, edging closer to him, while everyone else was talking to each other and eating marshmallows, “you okay?”
“I’m fine” was the only response Derek gave before digging through the bag again and setting a bar of chocolate and a box of graham crackers in Stiles’ lap.
Stiles looked truly surprised. “You can be such a Sweetwolf... sometimes,” he said under his breath, a beaming smile on his lips. Maybe one day he would understand the werewolf.
-
Stiles hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until he actually woke up. All he really remembered was eating six s'mores, or was it ten? It didn’t really matter, the food coma that resulted was blissful all the same.
His cheek was resting on something warm and cozy. He lazily opened his eyes, realizing that he was still in the clearing. The fire was smaller now, but not gone, Stiles was entranced by it.
“Have a good sleep?” someone said in a soft, if slightly gravelly voice. Stiles' mind slowly processed whose voice it was. Very slowly.
“Derek?” his voice sounded less surprised than he thought it would, and he made no effort to move. He just felt so darned cosy.
Somehow in his sleep Derek’s thigh had become his pillow; his very warm, comfortably firm pillow. “What time is it?” Stiles inquired softly while scanning the rest of the clearing. Only Lydia and Jackson remained, on the other side of the campfire, asleep in a tangle.
The night had a dreamlike quality to it, almost etherial. The sky was dark overhead, but each and every star was visible with an unparalleled clarity. The wind had died down, but it was still present, as it always was; a silent companion in these lonely woods.
“Almost three in the morning.” Derek shifted slightly, moving the hand that had rested on Stiles’ side.
Stiles hadn’t even noticed it there, nor had he noticed the leather jacket that had been draped over him.
He noticed Derek’s hand's departure very acutely, the heat it had provided already dissipating.
“Everyone else headed out awhile ago, except for them.” Derek gestured at the sleeping couple. “You’ve been out for a few hours. I had Scott text your dad at midnight though, so don’t worry. He knows you’re safe.”
There was that feeling again, like Derek wanted to add something else, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Stiles released a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in; he knew how his dad worried about him, and so did Derek apparently.
“Thank you, Derek.” Stiles said quietly, not wanting to break the strange magic of the moment with his babbling.
Stiles shivered and pulled the leather jacket closer, breathing in the scent of pine, and smoke, and Derek. It was a heady combination that lulled him back towards sleep again. Derek made a sound that could have almost been mistaken for a purr, if Stiles didn’t know better. Needless to say, the sound soothed him to sleep.
-
Derek heard Stiles’ heartbeat slow down to the steady rhythm of sleep. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so content; it had been too long.
His hand found its way to Stiles’ fuzzy head, and he couldn’t help but rub it softly. Stiles’ body relaxed at the warm touch and fell into an even deeper sleep.
Derek liked this quiet Stiles, almost as much as he liked the loud one; the one that spoke so much he couldn’t even hear his own thoughts, not that he’d ever admit it.
He put his other hand back on Stiles’ side, where it belonged, or so his hand seemed to think. He sat that way for a long time, the steady beat of Stiles’ heart eventually becoming the lullaby that carried him to sleep.
For the first time in a long time, the woods didn’t feel quite so lonely anymore.