Archive of Our Own

Laura met him at the gate, looked over her sunglasses at his bags, then sighed and grabbed them all. “This all you brought?” she asked, leading him down a path lined with wildflowers. It was beautiful but bright and hot– he’d already sweated through his shirt.

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to pant as he tried to keep up. “I took a plane to get here,” he reminded her.

“And you didn’t want to pay the extra baggage fees?” she asked, like he’d ever considered doing that. She looked back at him and grinned wolfishly, cool as a cucumber, unaffected by the weight of the bags and the fast walk and the heat. “Everyone in my family ends up paying them. Oversized luggage, overweight luggage, ‘oh I thought that was going to count as a walk-on’ luggage. The only one who doesn’t even try to pretend is my Uncle Peter. He’s a complete diva; can’t go anywhere without eight pairs of shoes and three suits, just in case.”

“Wow,” Stiles said. He hadn’t even brought a spare pair of shoes.

Laura shrugged. “And then he goes into a hissy fit when they lose his luggage! You’d think he’d have learned not to pack his favorite suit by now. Well, he’s a character. You’ll see. It runs in the family, actually. We’re all excessively dramatic. Except me, of course,” she added, throwing a grin back at him.

They passed through the wildflower meadow into a strand of trees– did they seriously not have a road closer to their house? Where did they park their cars? Stiles was pretty sure that anyone who’d bring eight pairs of shoes on a trip had to have a car. On the other side of the copse was a small cabin.

“Here’s where you’ll be staying,” Laura announced, throwing open the doors. There were two large French doors facing a half-round patio outfitted with comfortable looking outdoor furniture and a small charcoal grill. The cabin itself was tiny, but luxurious, like something you’d see on AirBnB or an instagram post; all one room except the bath; a tiny kitchen, a large, cozy looking bed, large windows looking out into the trees and the meadow beyond.

“This is nice,” Stiles said, putting his backpack down beside where Laura dropped his luggage.

“We keep these little cottages for guests and couples.”

“Couples?” Stiles repeated.

“Most people like to live in the pack house,” Laura explained. “But it’s not the most private of places, if you know what I mean.” She winked, even though Stiles knew exactly what she meant. He remembered trying to hook up with his highschool boyfriend in his childhood home without his dad overhearing– how much worse that would have been if his dad had had super sharp hearing.

He looked at the bed.

“Don’t worry!” Laura exclaimed. “Everything gets washed. And aired out– that’s why the windows and doors are so big. You can hardly smell the last couple that was in here.”

For once, Stiles didn’t envy the werewolves their supernatural senses. “Why put me here?” he asked.

“Humans tend to like their privacy,” Laura answered. Stiles suspected from the way she looked away that that wasn’t the real reason. Werewolves that didn’t spend a lot of time around humans tended to be terrible at lying to them, even if they were good at lying to other werewolves, who relied on smell and hearing to detect falsehoods, not body language and deflection. The best way to lie around werewolves was to say something that was technically true, but didn’t actually answer the question.

“We’re going to have lunch at the pack house in about half an hour. Do you want to settle in here and I’ll send someone to come show you the way in about twenty minutes?”

Stiles agreed and she grinned and left, striding easily off in the opposite direction from where they’d come.

He unpacked, storing away his clothes and toiletries, then taking a short shower to wash the smell of the plane off of him; werewolves were particularly sensitive to the smell, and he didn’t want it to be his first impression.

He was sitting on the patio when a young woman came through the trees to meet him. She looked enough like Laura and Talia that she must have been related. She came to the edge of the patio and scowled at Stiles.

“Well?” she demanded, after she’d been standing there and glaring at him for half a minute.

“Hi,” Stiles said, standing. “Um, have we met?”

“No,” the girl said, with a huff. She turned around and started heading back the way she’d come, pausing just before she would have vanished out of sight.

She turned back and looked impatiently at Stiles. “Well, are you coming?”

Stiles started following her. She was walking even faster than Laura had, confidently stepping over the roots that cut across the path. Stiles did his best not to trip or stumble, but there was no way he could keep up. The girl kept stopping and staring back at him impatiently, until, passive aggressively, Stiles stopped and sat down on a convenient log.

The girl went a few more steps before she turned. “Um, what are you doing?” she demanded.

“What are you doing?” Stiles retorted.

“I’m bringing you to lunch.” She gestured impatiently.

“Why are you being so rude to me?” Stiles asked. “I can’t imagine what I could have done to offend you. Yeah, I can be an asshole, but usually only after I’ve opened my mouth.”

The girl huffed and rolled her eyes. “You didn’t do anything,” she replied.

“So then…?”

She sighed deeply. Stiles remembered Laura saying her whole family was dramatic. She had not been exaggerating.

“You know it’s like a thing for emissaries to marry into the pack, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said.

“And since you’re Deaton’s apprentice and he’s retiring soon, everyone’s hoping you’ll get along well and stay to be the new emissary.”

“The alpha mentioned that when I interviewed with her,” Stiles agreed.

“Well,” the girl said. “I’m the closest to you in age, so everyone’s gotten it into their heads that we’re destined for each other.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “And you’re not into it?”

She huffed. “Arranged marriage? Uh, no. Are you?”

“I mean, it’s not really an arranged marriage,” Stiles said. “More like a blind date, right? Like no one’s gonna force us or anything.”

“A blind date with a lot of pressure,” the girl corrected. She crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m not doing it. I’m not marrying you.”

“Well,” Stiles said, standing. “You should have just led with that instead of being all weird and rude. It’s fine with me– I don’t want to marry anyone who’s not interested. I’ve got some pride.”

The girl eyed him. “You’d have been interested?” she asked.

“I don’t know!” Stiles exclaimed. “I just met you! All I know about you is you’re rude to strangers. But, like I said, I’m kind of an asshole, so I can’t really be that mad about it. I mean that’s the difference between a blind date and a relationship, right? Like I kinda need to get to know someone before I make any big plans about marrying them. Love at first sight seems pretty superficial, after all.”

The girl scuffed the ground with the toe of her boot. “I can’t just say I don’t want to marry you,” she admitted.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

“Well, like, I don’t have a good reason.”

“Besides that you don’t want to?”

“I don’t have a good reason for not wanting to.”

Stiles sighed. “I’m not sure I want to marry someone just because they can’t think of a good reason not to.”

“No, I mean, I don’t have a good reason for not wanting to give it a shot,” she explained. “I just… I don’t know… it makes me feel like I’m trapped for some reason. Like I’m being stuffed in a shoebox.”

Stiles couldn’t stay mad at that. “That’s not a great feeling.”

“No,” she said.

“Do you, like, maybe want to leave? Go somewhere else for a while? Travel the world?”

“I don’t know,” she said, miserably. “I just don’t want to have my whole life decided before I even really have time to think about it.”

“Well,” Stiles said, “why don’t we pretend?”

“What?”

“Like pretend to be considering it? Flirt a little and… I don’t know… go for a few romantic walks or whatever. And then after a week or two we can just be like ‘there’s no chemistry, too bad, stay as friends, etc’.”

Her eyes widened. “You’d do that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I mean, you can help me out too, help me get the lay of the land, so on, right?”

She considered for a moment, then nodded. “Cora Hale,” she said. “Nice to meet you, welcome to the Hale Pack, etc. etc.”

He grinned. “Stiles Stilinski. Thanks.”

“Oh,” Cora said. “I thought your name was mitch-e… michee…”

He shook his head. “Just call me Stiles. It’s easier on everyone.”

The Hale Pack House was just up the path, an enormous log structure that looked like the lodge of a ski resort, three stories high, a massive U shape, with a garden and yard cradled in the middle, a deep porch surrounding it, cluttered with furniture and children’s toys. The path wound through the garden and up to the porch, Cora leading him through a screen door into a large room full of people and chatter.

Cora gestured to a long table covered in platters of sandwiches and bowls of cut fruit.

“Breakfast and lunch are informal. Serve yourself. Don’t be afraid you’re eating too much; you’ll never consume as much as one of us.”

“I’ve seen werewolves eat before,” Stiles replied, grabbing a plate from the stack and piling it with sandwich halves, scooping fruit salad into a bowl, then following Cora to the table.

Talia Hale stood as they approached and Stiles quickly put his dishes on the table before remembering werewolves don’t shake hands and nodding a little awkwardly.

“Alpha Hale, nice to see you again,” he said.

“Apprentice Emissary Stilinski,” she returned, her own nod much more grateful. “Welcome to my pack.”

She then introduced the people in her close vicinity. Retiring emissary Deaton, then her children, Laura, Cora, and Derek, and a whole bunch of betas, whose faces and names Stiles already knew he wouldn’t remember because he’d stopped paying attention the moment he caught sight of Derek Hale.

Werewolves tended to be attractive. This was an unfortunate curse in Stiles’ life; he was destined to be a skinny, pale human surrounded by beautiful, conventionally attractive, extremely fit people. The Hales were a prime example, all of them with gorgeous dark hair, lustrous tanned skin and cheekbones that could cut glass, but Derek, oh boy, Derek… His eyes were an ineffable hazel, his chin and jaw of a strength usually only seen in superhero comics, his eyebrows thick and perfectly curved, his hair swept up in a perfect ‘I rolled out of bed like this’ pompadour.

Stiles wanted to lick the stubble that clung to his jaw like moss to a rock until his tongue was numb; he wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

Cora elbowed him and he snapped from his trance, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said. “Long flights always mess with my ADHD meds.” He wrinkled his nose in a way he’d been told was charming. “I’m not even sure what day it is,” he added with a light laugh.

Fortunately, Talia smiled back, gesturing to a seat near her and directly across from Derek, who was now ignoring them in favor of stuffing sandwiches into his face.

“Thanks,” Stiles said. “I’m going to just have to… can I use the bathroom? Maybe Cora could show me?”

The girl in question gave him a scornful look before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the room. They ended up in a room lined with books. Stiles couldn’t help seeing… was that Aguilar’s Revised Schematics for a Ritual?

“Stiles,” Cora said, forcibly turning him to face her. He rubbed his throbbing shoulder when she let go.

“Careful, squishy human here,” he protested.

“What the hell?”

Stiles cast a soundproofing spell, sealing them in. “You know our agreement? I can’t do it! I’m sorry, if you’d just warned me–”

“Warned you of what?”

“That your brother is the perfect pinnacle of mankind,” Stiles said, wistfully. “All of evolution was solely to give birth to him.”

She scowled at him. “Eww. Also, he’s a werewolf, and that’s not how evolution works.”

“Fine. The perfect pinnacle of werewolf-kind then. And it was metaphorical.”

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed, turning away from him. “Stop fawning over my brother.”

“Is he single? Does he like men? I always just assume everyone’s bisexual, to be honest. Would you call that binormativity? Please don’t tell me he’s straight.”

She looked up at the ceiling, as if praying for guidance. Stiles followed her eyes and took a moment to appreciate the recessed lighting fixtures.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, finally.

“You don’t know?” Stiles asked.

“He’s single, but he’s not… he had some really bad relationships when he was younger, so he doesn’t really do relationships now…”

“That explains why he’d be single,” Stiles said. “Otherwise someone would have snatched him up.”

“He’s not perfect, you know,” Cora said. “He’s a moody asshole. A total grouch. He goes days without speaking, he hates doing anything fun, he’s got even more pretentious taste than Peter and that’s saying a lot. He dresses like James Dean, he intentionally does a terrible job of cleaning so no one will ever ask him, he’s super impatient when someone can’t keep up with him…”

“I thought you didn’t want to marry me,” Stiles said. “Shouldn’t you be happy I’m interested in someone else?”

“I’m just saying he’s not as perfect as you’re making out. You said you didn’t believe in love at first sight after all.”

Stiles opened his mouth, then couldn’t think of anything to say. “Well, I guess seeing is believing.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Look, I’m big enough of a man to admit when I was wrong about something.”

“You were wrong about love at first sight?” she asked, skeptically.

“So wrong. Completely wrong. Man, when I think about how much I criticized Scott for falling in love with Allison instantly… I’m going to have to eat my hat.”

“I don’t know who Scott and Alison are,” Cora said dryly.

Stiles waved a hand. “You’ll meet them at the wedding.”

“What wedding?!” Cora demanded. “Didn’t you listen? Derek doesn’t do relationships!”

“Oh,” Stiles said, rubbing his hands together. “You’ve never seen me at my most persistent.”

Cora cocked her head, a skeptical look on her face. “So what are we going to do? You want to cancel our agreement and tell my mom you’re interested in Derek instead?”

“You don’t think that’s a good idea?” Stiles asked.

“He’d run for the hills,” Cora said.

Stiles nodded. “Is he the jealous type? The type to steal toys from his siblings just because they like them?”

“Are you comparing yourself to a child’s toy?” She asked, skeptically, then she sighed. “Look, I’m going to help you with this because you’re right; if Derek miraculously does become interested in you, it will make things a hell of a lot easier for me, but you’ve got to promise me something in return.”

“Anything,” Stiles said quickly.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Cora said.

Stiles pouted at her. “‘We’re all fools in love’,” he quoted.

“Ugh,” Cora moaned. “Why?!”

They quickly settled on a strategy and went back to the dining room, Cora walking a little closer to him and giving him a small smile on the way to the table. She sat down beside him and Stiles caught Talia giving her an approving look as he apologized for them having been so long. He dug into the sandwiches, trying to keep his glances at Derek (who must have been on his second plate) surreptitious.

Considering that Cora kept elbowing him and hissing at him, he wasn’t doing a good job, no matter how much he tried to think about the smell of his high school locker room and the most vile potion he had to brew for school.

“I’d thought I could familiarize you with the compound and the lab this afternoon,” Deaton said when they were done with lunch. “But given your jetlag it seems wiser to wait until the morning.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, realized he had nothing, and shut it again. As a result, he spent his first afternoon with the pack lying around on his bed playing with his phone and constructing elaborate fantasies featuring Derek.

His daydreams had grown so realistic that when Derek actually came out of the trees for a moment he thought it was a product of his imagination until the werewolf stopped on the edge of the patio and glared at him instead of stripping off his clothes or declaring his undying love or something. That glare sure did run in the family.

He blinked. “Um, hi.” Fuck, could Derek smell that he’d just been fantasizing about him? Would he notice if he ran inside and gave himself a little

Derek gave him a cross look and sniffed pointedly. “Eww,” he said.

“Rude,” Stiles replied, adjusting himself as discreetly as he could.

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from sexualizing my sister in my presence,” Derek said, coldly.

Stiles just barely managed to keep him from snapping back that he’d been sexualizing Derek, not his sister. Not really the first thing you want to say to the man of your dreams.

Instead he smiled and stood, stepping forward. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Stiles. It’s nice to meet you.”

Derek frowned. “We met earlier,” he said.

“Oh,” Stiles said. “I didn’t know if you were paying attention. You seemed very focused on your food.”

Derek opened his mouth, then closed it, then frowned. “It’s time for dinner. Mom was concerned that you might get lost, since you were so tired.” He turned to head back up the path.

Stiles spared a moment to appreciate that his backside was almost as attractive as his frontside, then followed him.

“So, Derek, Cora tells me you like literature,” he said. “Who are your favorite authors?”

“I don’t have favorite authors,” Derek answered, gruffly. “I think it’s reductive and offensive to rank artists in such a way.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, although he really thought it was a dirty cop-out. “What books would you recommend, then?”

“I don’t know how I could recommend a book to you when I don’t know anything about you,” Derek responded. At least he wasn’t walking as fast as Cora had.

“Guess you’re going to have to get to know me then,” Stiles said.

“Or I could just not recommend any books to you,” Derek countered.

Damn, he was a tough audience.

“What if I need some new reading material?”

“There are a lot of recommendations online,” Derek answered easily. “I’m sure you’d easily find them with a google search.”

Oh my god, this man was going to kill him and not in a fun way. But that’s fine; Stiles had plenty of time and persistence.

Of course, Stiles actually had a job besides seducing Derek; apprenticing with Deaton. The druid apparently had no easy mode. Before the end of his first day Stiles had begun redesigning the compound’s wards, developing a new recipe for a mange treatment, and plotting how to grow several rare herbs on the Hale land.

Not that that was a problem. Stiles had chosen to apprentice with Deaton partially because of his reputation among emissaries (the presence of the magical beacon of the Nematon and the prominence of the Hale pack also played a role). At the end of the day he arrived for pack dinner exhausted and on fire with ideas for the projects he’d been assigned.

Dinner was a more formal affair, with everyone expected to join on time and big bowls and platters of food passed around the table, the pack members who had cooked getting up now and then to fetch more food from the kitchens.

The seating was dictated by the hierarchy of the pack, the Alpha, her seconds, and their mates sit at the head of the long table, with the younger betas at the end. Stiles was seated next to Deaton as a measure of respect, which he appreciated in theory, but he couldn’t help but look with longing towards where the younger wolves sat, laughing over a joke one of them had told. Even Derek looked amused.

“Wishing to sit near your crush?” the wolf sitting across from Stiles asked. Stiles looked up, shocked, thinking the unknown wolf had somehow sniffed out his attraction to Derek before realizing that Cora was sitting beside Derek. He nodded and the wolf made a sympathetic face. Stiles took him in; fancy clothes and more personal grooming than most of the other wolves. He bet this was Peter, the uncle who always packed an excessive number of shoes.

“I’m Stiles,” Stiles said. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“We did, but you were… distracted.” He glanced pointed towards the other end of the table. “Peter. Left Hand.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose. “You probably know more about me than anyone here then.”

Peter’s smile grew toothier. “I do my research,” he said modestly. “Your thesis was impressive, as was your history. I hadn’t realized there was an up and coming member of the Gajos family.”

“You know about my mother?” Stiles asked, impressed. “You really did do your due diligence.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s my job. So you’ve taken an interest in my young niece?”

“She’s been very…” Stiles smiled. “I was going to say ‘nice’ but you’d know that was a lie even if you couldn't hear my heartbeat.”

“My dear niece has many excellent qualities, but niceness is not included among them. Frankly, I’m shocked she gave you the time of day.”

Stiles shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a very charming person.”

Peter was still smiling but Stiles could see some underlying uspicion. He glanced down the table to the younger betas again, then looked back at Stiles. “I’m delighted to have you with us,” he said, sounding as if he was changing the subject. “I don’t know if anyone’s shown you the library yet.”

“Oh yes,” Stiles said. “I’ve already gone digging.”

“The rare and heirloom books are in my private library,” Peter said. “As apprentice emissary they might be useful to you. If you’d like I could show you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, salivating over the thought. Considering the incredible books that were part of the Hales’ main library, the private collection must be extraordinary.

Pretending to like Cora wasn’t difficult; she wasn’t hard on the eyes and she was enjoyable company. Stiles often found himself falling over laughing from her caustic remarks. Plus, their scheming meant they had to spend a lot of time alone, away from prying ears. And it wasn’t like her family expected them to be in love with each other right away. They just had to seem interested.

The hard part was trying not to stare at Derek too much. The wolf had an annoying habit of wandering around in just the rip-off shorts the wolves liked to wear so they didn’t shred their clothes if they had to suddenly go full shift. It was practical, but meant he was strolling around with all those muscles just hanging out there, tanned dark from the summer sun and slightly glistening from the heat, just begging to be licked and bitten…

“Ow!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Stop staring!” Cora hissed.

“I can’t help it! Look at him!”

Cora hit him again.

The actual business of getting to know Derek enough that Derek would find himself falling in love with Stiles was harder than Stiles had suspected. Even with Cora’s help, it was a good day if Derek said more than five words to Stiles (and if those words weren’t ‘get out of my way’.) Derek wasn’t just uninterested in romance, he was uninterested in people in general. He spent most of his time patrolling and tending the forest and, surprisingly, watching the infants.

Stiles hadn’t even known he had a Thing for Men with Babies until he’d come across the appallingly adorable sight of Derek lying in the grass with four werewolf pups climbing all over him.

“What do you do when you want to talk to him?” Stiles asked, with a groan, one evening. Cora was lying on the outdoor settee reading a book about swamps. She shrugged. “Join his patrol,” she said. “I do it about once a week.”

“I can’t do that!” Stiles groaned. Then he paused. “Maybe I could ask him to show me something in the forest?”

“Like what?” Cora asked.

“Like… a rare plant or something. I can say I need it for a potion.”

“What plant?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles groaned. “Can you think of anything that is rare but grows wild around here?”

“No. I’m not a plant expert.”

“Haven’t you lived in these woods your whole life?”

“Doesn’t mean I go around learning plant names. Do I look like a nerd?”

“You’re reading a book about swamps,” Stiles pointed out.

Cora frowned at her book, flipped the cover closed so she could look at it and said “Huh.”

Stiles had to resort to Googling ‘rare plants in Northern California’. To make sure he had the name of a plant that actually grew on the Hale lands, he made a list of enough plants that he felt sure the Hale Territory must contain at least one.

Proud of himself, he approached Derek during dinner clean up the next evening. “Hey,” he said. Derek grunted in his direction. “Uh, so I’m looking for some plants to use in my… uh… potions, that might grow around here, and Cora said you’d probably know if there were any and you could show me where?”

Derek grunted again and took the list Stiles was holding out. “Mirbeck's pear grows here,” he said, “and downy bastard posy. I haven’t seen the others around though.”

“Great!” Stiles exclaimed. “So you can show them to me?”

“Well, Mirbeck’s pear only grows in the spring and dies back when it starts getting hot so no,” Derek said. “But downy bastard posy should be easy to find. I can bring you some tomorrow.”

“No!” Stiles said quickly. Derek gave him a puzzled look. “I mean, it would be good for me to know where it grows. In case I need to, you know, harvest more.”

Derek looked like he was gritting his teeth. Stiles hoped not; it would be criminal to damage that perfect jaw. He almost said something to him about the damage done by grinding your teeth before he remembered that Derek was a werewolf and could pretty much recover from almost anything.

“Fine,” Derek said. “Come on.”

“What?” Stiles asked, but Derek was already striding out to the porch. Stiles followed him into the garden and down the path that led to Stiles’ cabin, but they went left instead of right and soon came to the edge of a field.

“There,” Derek said, pointing.

“What?” Stiles repeated.

“Downy bastard posy. Right there. The little yellow flowers. Didn’t you even look up what it looked like?”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “Yeah. Wow, that was easy. Thanks!” He looked down at the flower for a minute before looking back at Derek, who was standing there waiting.

“Aren’t you going to harvest it?” Derek asked. It was practically a growl.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles said, thinking quickly. “Actually, since it’s so convenient I’m going to wait. Harvest it when it’s really fresh, you know? So… yeah. But hey, thanks, dude! This was great.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” Derek barked out and turned and strode back to the house.

“Huh,” Stiles said. He picked a tiny sprig of the yellow flower just because and headed back to his cabin.

Peter was sitting on one of the chairs on Stiles’ patio, leaning back with a relaxed air and playing with his phone.

“Peter,” Stiles said. “What a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He’d interacted with the Left Hand plenty of times; they usually spoke at dinner, discussing magical principles and supernatural history, and Peter had given him full access to his library once he’d decided that Stiles could be trusted with precious books.

Still they weren’t exactly at the casually dropping in on each other stage of friendship.

“Have a seat, apprentice emissary,” Peter said, gesturing to the chaise.

Stiles sat cautiously.

“I overheard what you asked Derek after dinner,” Peter explained. He looked pointedly at the flower Stiles was still holding in his hand. “I’ve never heard of downy bastard posy being used in any potions.”

Stiles shrugged, thinking quickly. He’d have to be vague enough that nothing he said was a lie. “Oh, you know there’s always new research being done on plants that might be useful for potions.”

“Interesting,” Peter said. “If they are using it that would be great– the plant is really common around here. Do you think we might be able to sell it to one of the potion supply companies?”

“Uh, well, actually the research is really experimental, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up just yet. A lot more research has to be done before any of the plants they’re studying would really be a… a viable product.”

“Oh, well, keep me updated.”

“Yeah, sure. Um, but I’m sure you’ll understand that this is all unpublished so I can’t really talk about it much…”

“Is that right?”

“Lots of my classmates are working on that kind of thing.”

Peter folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “That was pretty impressive,” he said. “Coming up with all that on the spot and avoiding lying. People don’t often think of using deflection.

“Thanks?” Stiles winced. “My dad was a sheriff so I got a lot of practice thinking on the spot.”

“Your dad was a sheriff and you were a troublemaker,” Peter corrected.

Stiles shrugged.

“What’s your interest in my nephew?” Peter asked, calmly.

Stiles stared at him. “Ahh… um… what interest?”

“You’re pretending to be into Cora but you came up with this whole scheme to get Derek alone.”

“Oh, that,” Stiles said. He scratched his head. “Um…”

Peter rolled his eyes. Damn, all these Hales were blessed with expressive eyebrows.

“He’s just so hot!” Stiles exclaimed. “Have you seen him? He’s like… uh and… muscles!”

Peter frowned at him. “Are you asking if I’ve found my nephew sexually appealing?”

“Not intentionally!” Stiles squeaked.

Peter rubbed his forehead. “If you’re interested in Derek, why are you pretending to be interested in Cora?”

Stiles opened his mouth to explain and then closed it again. “Um… it was her idea!”

Those eyebrows again.

“Her mom was really pressuring her to make a good impression on me and she was angry about it and I was like ‘why don’t we just play along for a little bit and your mom will get off your back,’ but that was before I’d seen Derek and I’d already made this agreement with Cora and Cora said that if Derek could tell I was interested in him he wouldn’t talk to me, which is kind of ironic because it’s not like he’s talking to me now, so we kinda just stuck to the plan?”

Peter blinked at him and then laughed, leaning back in his chair. When he finally stopped, wiping his eyes and shaking his head, he said, “That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard.”

“Thanks,” Stiles mumbled.

“Don’t you think Derek will be kind of put off from showing any interest in the guy he thinks is dating his sister?”

“We’re not dating! We just hang out a lot.”

“Still,” Peter said.

“I guess,” Stiles muttered.

“Cora wasn’t wrong though. Derek hasn’t had a great… track record. He’s sworn off romance.”

“From what I’ve seen he’s sworn off people in general.”

Peter nodded. “I like you, Stiles,” he said. At Stiles’ widening eyes he added “not like that. You’re like twenty years younger than me. No offense, but… eww.”

“I don’t see how that could possibly not be offensive,” Stiles muttered.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m pretty sure he’s attracted to you. That might be why he avoids you so much.”

“Huh.”

“You’re the first not completely terrible person my nephew has ever shown interest in, so I’m going to help your little venture,” Peter said. He took out his phone and fiddled with it for a moment, then put it away.

“What was that?” Stiles asked.

“I called for reinforcement,” Peter explained.

A moment later, Cora appeared, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. “This better be good,” she snapped, dropping the drinks and snacks onto the table.

Peter smirked at her and leaned back in the chair.

“Oh,” Cora said, grabbing a beer and dropping a drop of wolfsbane intoxicant in it. “You figured it out, did you?”

“Impressed?” Peter asked, raising his eyebrows.

Cora snorted. “Considering how obvious he was? Not in the slightest. You’re losing your touch.”

Peter grabbed one of the beers and laced it as well. “At least I’m not well on the way to being mated to our dear little emissary here,” he said.

“Hey, I’m taller than you,” Stiles protested, grabbing a beer for himself.

Cora sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, you’re not wrong.”

Peter sighed in obvious pleasure. “I’m not often wrong, dear niece,” he said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. So,” she added, leaning forward, “let’s hear your plan.”

“First, your little charade is going to have to come to an end,” Peter said. “Derek’s not going to make a move on his kid sister’s boyfriend.”

Cora shrugged. “Fine. I was getting sick of him anyway.”

“That’s mean,” Peter scolded.

“And a lie,” Stiles added. “You love me.”

“Platonically,” Cora said, pointing at him. “Extremely, extremely platonically.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Cora smirked.

“We’re going to have to resort to the oldies but goodies,” Peter observed, steepling his fingers. “Classic hijinks for making people fall in love.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Hijinks?” He repeated doubtfully. “Like… trapping them together in a closet?”

“Precisely.”

“You’ve got this reputation for being cunning and cutthroat,” Stiles said. “Mention of the Left Hand of the Hale Pack makes people shudder. How much of that is bribery? Blackmail? Do you just tell people you’re cunning and they believe you or what?”

Cora laughed. “He’s got you there!”

Peter shrugged. “Does it matter? As I was saying, you’re not a terrible looking young man.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Reasonably intelligent. Your sense of humor could do with some work.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you’re negging me?”

“Unfortunately, my dear nephew’s type is blonde women who have dyed their hair brown and are using him for nefarious purposes,” Peter continued as if he didn’t hear him.

“Yikes,” Stiles said. “That’s terrifyingly specific.”

“Indeed,” Peter said seriously. “So we need him to look past your lack of breasts, your good intentions, and your naturally dark hair. Get to know you as a person worthy of trust.”

“Hence the classic hijinks.”

“Perhaps you’re more than reasonably intelligent.”

“No,” Stiles corrected, “you really spelled that one out. I mean– fuck, yes I am more than reasonably intelligent, thank you.”

Cora rolled her eyes and put another drop of wolfsbane in her drink.

“Just lie and say there’s a problem with the wards on the Southeastern side of the property,” she said, with a sigh. “Deaton’s put Stiles on redoing the wards, so he’ll send him, and Derek’s responsible for the border so he’ll go and there’s no easy access to get there, so it will take an entire day. Stiles can charm Derek, Derek falls in love with someone moderately sane–”

“Moderately?” Stiles protested.

“Problem solved.”

“For two people who are adamant about not wanting to date me, you’re both very convinced Derek is going to fall in love with me,” Stiles observed.

The two Hales looked at each other, then back at Stiles.

“I’m pretty sure Derek’s attracted to you,” Cora began.

“He does run away whenever you approach him,” Peter agreed.

“He does this thing where he kind of looks at you and then seems to panic because he’s looking at you.”

Peter chuckled fondly. “He always acts like such a tough guy, but he’s got this soft squishy interior. Like a beetle.”

“A beetle?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, you know, all exoskeleton on the outside and squishy bits on the inside,” he mimed squishing a bug and gave Stiles when Stiles winced.

“Eww,” Stiles said.

“You know when you squish them and all their insides leak out…”

“No, I get it,” Stiles said quickly.

“Hemolymph– that’s what insect blood is called,” Peter continued. “Also the contents of the stomach and digestive fluids. The worst insects to squish are stink bugs because you rupture their stink glands or whatever. But if you squish a firefly you get phosphorescence on your fingers.”

“How do we get him to shut up?” Stiles asked Cora.

She shook her head. “Let me know if you find how. I’ve been trying to figure that out my whole life.”

“... with aphids, it’s mostly just sugar syrup, you know. Grasshoppers make a mess because they’re so big…”

Stiles grabbed the bag of potato chips. Maybe he could chew loud enough to drown Peter out.

He forgave Peter, a little, the next morning when he overheard him saying that he’d seen the wards at the Northeastern corner of the preserve looking a little worn. “Probably would be a good idea to get Stiles out there to check it out,” Peter suggested to Talia. “Start getting him familiar with the boundary. And Derek can show him.”

Derek, also in hearing distance, growled faintly.

“Hmm,” Talia said. “Maybe Cora would be better.”

“Nope!” Cora piped up, popping the ‘p’. “Stiles and I decided we’re not meant for each other.”

“Oh! That’s too bad, honey.”

“Yeah,” Cora said, shaking her head. “We just want different things. He wants to ramble on and on and on and on and I want him to shut up.”

“Harsh,” Stiles sighed. “Cora might be a little… violent for me. But I think we can remain good friends.”

“Well, that’s good,” Talia said. Already, she was looking around the pack, trying to decide who she was trying to set Stiles up with next.

“So, Derek?” Peter suggested.

Derek finched as his mother’s eyes latched onto him and brightened. “Yes,” she said. “That’s a great idea, Peter. Derek, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“I, uh, had some, um, urgent business…” Derek trailed off. “Somewhere else,” he finished, weakly.

Talia gave him a look and he folded like a collapsible chair. “Fine,” he muttered.

“Great!” Talia clapped her hands, apparently having decided that since one child was off the tabe the other would do. “Derek, you should remember to bring some food for you and Stiles, since the trek is so long. You can have a picnic.”

“Great,” Derek echoed unenthusiastically.

They drove one of the pack’s four-wheelers as far as they could, Stiles pressed close against Derek’s muscular back, trying to keep from thinking too much about the way Derek’s muscles rippled under his arms as he skillfully maneuvered the four-wheeler through the forest at top-speed.

When Derek stopped the vehicle, Stiles slid to the ground and had to stand there for a moment, regaining his balance and once again trying to subdue the rising arousal.

Derek seemed oblivious to it, busying himself with detaching his bag (containing the picnic Talia had packed for them) and hoisting it over his shoulders.

“The path is this way,” he said, once he’d carefully adjusted the pack on his back, finally looking at Stiles. “Are you okay?”

Stiles nodded and followed him into the woods.

For the first hour or so they were silent, then, to Stiles’ surprise, Derek spoke.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Cora,” he said.

“Oh,” Stiles said. “That’s okay. We actually were just pretending the whole time.”

“What?” Derek exclaimed, turning around so abruptly Stiles nearly walked into him. He quickly stepped away, looking off into the trees as he explained: “Your mom was pressuring Cora into making nice to me and she was mad and I offered to pretend we were interested in each other for a while to get the heat off her back. She really is too violent for me.”

Derek regarded him for a long moment. “That’s stupid,” he said, finally. “But kind.”

Stiles looked up at him and shrugged. “I made a friend in the pack,” he said. “Two friends, actually, since Peter got involved.”

“Peter?” Derek asked, bristling a little.

“He saw right through it,” Stiles admitted. “Cora and I thought we were being so sly.”

Derek’s face did a thing like he was trying not to smile and then he turned around again.

They ate at the top of a ridge, overlooking the preserve. Stiles’ shirt was soaked through and he’d panted for a full three minutes when they got to the top, while Derek laid out their picnic with his normal ‘model about to step in front of the camera’ cool. He gestured to the blanket he’d laid out and Sitles plopped down, then grateful accepted the (fancy) soda Derek handed him.

“Laura is in line to be the next alpha, right?” Stiles asked, trying to eat his fruit salad in a respectable manner.

“The alpha spark will decide the most suitable candidate,” Derek said, “but most people agree she’s the best fit.”

“You don’t want it?” Stiles asked, curiously.

Derek shook his head.

“Because then you’d have to talk to people?”

Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles.

“When she was born did the whole pack come out here and do the Lion King thing?” Stiles held up his fruit salad in the manner of Rafiki showing Simba to the animals. “Some day, child, this land will all be yours.” He popped a piece of honeydew into his mouth with a grin.

“No,” Derek said, deadpan. “We’re wolves, not lions.”

Stiles choked on his honeydew and stared up, shocked, at Derek’s faint smile.

The ward was, unsurprisingly, undamaged. Derek examined it with suspicion, sniffing around it. “You said Peter got involved?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, trying to look unconcerned.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “Got involved how, exactly?”

Stiles bit his lip, wondering what the best way to proceed would be. He remembered Peter mentioning Derek’s exes being manipulative. “Well, I have a huge crush on you and I kept trying to find ways to talk to you but you kept running away,” he admitted. “Sorry to make you come all the way out here.”

Derek frowned at his feet. “I kind of had a crush on you too,” he admitted. “But I thought you were interested in Cora.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, as soon as I saw you I realized that was a mistake.”

“Really?” Derek asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, man,” Stiles said, scoffing a little. “You’re like the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. And you’re smart and you’re so soft and adorable when you play with the pups and…” And then he squeaked because Derek’s lips were on him. Derek was kissing him, his scruff rubbing against his cheek and his chapped lips a little dry and his strong hands on Stiles’ shoulders and…

He pulled back. “Sorry,” he said.

“Why?” Stiles asked, feeling a little dazed.

“I should have asked first.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “Yeah.” He smiled up at Derek and hoped he didn’t look too dopey. “You can kiss me.”

Derek pressed in again, backed him up until he was against the tree with the ward on it and nipped at his lip and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and he was warm and enthusiastic and a little uncoordinated, like he was out of practice.

They held hands on the way back, even though Stiles’ hand got all gross and sweaty and Derek asked Stiles questions about his life and his education and his dad and didn’t even mind when Stiles rambled on. Every once in a while Derek turned and kissed him some more, like he just couldn’t stop himself.

When they were finally approaching the pack house, Derek groaned. “This trip was Peter’s scheme, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted.

“He’s going to be insufferable,” Derek muttered.

“Maybe we could pretend not to have hooked up?” Stiles suggested.

Derek shook his head. “No more scheming,” he said.

Stiles held out his pinky finger and Derek rolled his eyes, but took it. “No more scheming,” Stiles promised.

“Mom’s going to be delighted,” Derek muttered. “She’s going to start planning a wedding, just you wait.”

“You sure you don’t want to renege on that scheming thing?”

Derek actually laughed and grabbed his hand properly and they walked up the steps to the pack house together.