Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Stiles is twelve, the only thing he can possibly imagine being cooler than becoming a superhero overnight like Peter Parker, is his best friend Scott becoming one and Stiles being his sassy sidekick. Scott being bitten and then abandoned by a rogue Alpha werewolf was not exactly what he was thinking of when he was playing that particular scenario out in his head.

Mostly because abandoned beta werewolves became omegas and had to go on a government register and have the rest of their lives tainted. Melissa McCall, the closest to a superhero in real life Stiles had ever known, barring his own parents of course, was not going to stand for that and marched Scott, and after Stiles begged for hours, Stiles to the Hale pack and asked for them to take Scott into their fold.

They agreed, on the proviso that Scott abide by their pack laws and stay with them on a regular basis to bond with the other wolves and always on the full moon. This was acceptable to Scott after he was able to secure Stiles an invitation to the weekly visits, his one stipulation.

So, Scott became a member of the Hale pack, he and Stiles stayed with them once a week and for the next six years it went on like that until in senior year a new girl transferred into Beacon Hills High school and Scott fell head over paws in love.

*

"No."

"But-" Scott starts to protest, blinking hard. Stiles pulls himself up onto the stool set by the kitchen island and accepts the bowl of Fruit Loops Talia pushes his way. He won't allow sugary cereals in his own house since his dad came off a little worse for wear from his last physical so he always relishes the opportunity to get his fix at the Hale's.

"Scott, we've talked about this."

"Yeah, when I was twelve and it didn't matter because I thought girls had cooties," Scott protests vehemently. Stiles feels for him, he really does. They're both eighteen and there hasn't been so much as a blip on the romantic radar for either of them, till Allison Argent appeared and Scott found the father, the son and the holy ghost all in her apparently perfect face.

"When we took you in, what did we agree?" Talia asks mildly. She's moving around the kitchen, cooking breakfast for the rest of the household. She ruffles Stiles' hair as she passes him and he knows he should be past what that kind of casual affection does for him, but he can't help but lean back and grin at her.

"But-" Scott tries again.

"We agreed that you would abide by our traditions, our laws. One of those is that you cannot date until you're twenty one. I'm not doing this to be mean, it's for a very good reason."

"Is that reason to kill joy in all its forms?" Scott grumbles.

"Being with someone is different for us. It's... deeper and we don't exactly play the field before we settle down. You're still at a delicate age and I know when you're a teenager it all feels like epic, endless true love but while it might be for you, I can't guarantee it will be for this girl."

"Allison," Scott huffs.

"Allison," Talia says patiently, "Is also eighteen and probably not ready for a lifetime commitment." Talia puts an arm across Scott's shoulders, having to rise up a little to do it because both Scott and Stiles have put on more height over the summer. "Honey, I've seen it happen before. It can become dangerous, you can become fixated. You don't want to risk putting this Allison in jeopardy do you?"

"No," Scott says, looking horrified and Talia smiles, possibly thinking that she's won the argument but Stiles knows his best friend when he's got his mind set on something. He won't be swayed. "Allison's different. I think this is the once in a lifetime epicness."

"Scott, see what I'm saying? You're already over-invested. Even before you..." Talia's voice trails off and her eyes narrow dangerously. "You've already been seeing her, haven't you?" she asks.

"Just... kind of..." Scott mumbles and looks at Stiles imploringly, like he can save Scott from this conversation. Stiles holds up his hands, a it's all you bro gesture.

"Scott, I thought you would be more responsible than this."

"I'm being responsible now," Scott says, like that will win him any points. "I'm telling you now because it's important."

"I'm sorry, but I can't allow it." Talia casts about for a second before she sighs and says, "Derek will take you to and from school and will escort you when you go anywhere else. I'm not going to trust that you won't see Allison just on my say so since you already have been doing so behind our back when you knew-"

"What? No!" Scott wails, throwing himself dramatically across the kitchen island and almost into Stiles' cereal bowl. Stiles tugs it aside at the last moment, patting awkwardly at Scott's head.

"I could be his chaperone," Stiles volunteers and Scott looks at him with dawning hope. "I mean, we're practically glued together anyway."

"Stiles, I wish I could believe that you would do the right thing here, but I know that you'd be more partner in crime than responsible adult in this situation."

Stiles grimaces, but he can't really argue the point.

"You're just doing this because Derek doesn't have anyone," Scott accuses suddenly and Talia blinks at him.

"Scott, that's not-"

"I know the older members of the pack are supposed to be paired off before the younger ones, I've read the books."

"That's a very old tradition," Talia says.

"Older than the one about me having to be twenty one?" Scott counters and Talia looks surprised, before her expression goes sly, the one Stiles knows means she's had a brilliant thought that will ruin their day.

"Okay, fine, new rule," she says, smiling sweetly and Stiles feels gooseflesh break out on his arms while Scott, way too trusting, looks like he's fit to burst with happiness. "You can date," Talia continues and before Scott can jump for joy, she adds, "When Derek does."

"What?" Scott exclaims. "He's the most antisocial being in the universe. He hates everyone."

"I like this new rule. Thank you for reminding me sweetheart," Talia says, dropping a kiss on Scott's cheek while he fish-mouths in horror.

"I'm going to have to wait till Derek dies," Scott moans.

"Maybe you can help him," Talia offers gently. Then her face goes wicked again as she adds, "You'll be spending a lot of time with him after all."

*

They're outside, Scott burying himself in piles of leaves and moaning whiles Stiles kicks at his feet and says, "It's not the end of the world, right?"

"It is for me," Scott says in a pitiful-sounding voice. "Derek's going to be my angst-ridden shadow for the foreseeable future and I just totally doomed myself to a sex-free existence."

"Yeah, you probably should have stuck to the twenty-one rule," Stiles says and it's Scott's turn to kick at him. Stiles dances away, cackling as Scott sits up, his face going thoughtful.

"Maybe I just have to do what Talia said," Scott says slowly. "Help Derek get over himself and date someone."

"Yeah? Who? You just said yourself that he's a gloomy guts of the highest magnitude and... what? Why are you looking at me like that?" Stiles says slowly.

"Dude, it's perfect," Scott says, jumping to his feet. "It's so perfect I can't believe it took me this long to think of it!"

"What? What's perfect?" Stiles demands.

"Stiles, you can date Derek."

"What?" Stiles says in a flat voice.

"Man, the whole pack loves you. They would be so happy you and Derek were together that I'd be free to do what I want."

"Scott."

"Talia's been saying that she's worried you don't feel like part of the pack, that you might not come back when I go to college. This will totally kill like, all the birds with a stone."

"Scott!"

"What?"

"I would have to want to date Derek for your plan to work," Stiles points out, secure in the knowledge that his logic is infallible and yes, he's had a pointless and soul-destroying crush on Derek for as long as he can remember but nobody knows that.

"Dude, c'mon," Scott says, rolling his eyes and wait, what?

"Oh my god, how did you know?" Stiles complains, then goes cold all over because, "Is this a werewolf thing? Does everyone know? Does Derek know? Have you all been laughing at my hopeless ass this entire time because-"

"Stiles, whoa, calm down okay? It's not a werewolf thing. It's a you and me thing alright? Derek doesn't know. I don't think he'd know if you stood outside his bedroom window holding an iPod over your head with My Heart Will Go On playing."

"That's a weirdly specific image," Stiles notes and then sighs. "Okay, issue the second. Derek is so far out of my league that he's in another galaxy playing a completely different sport."

"No, he's not," Scott says with conviction and Stiles pats him on the shoulder because there's being a supportive dudebro and then there's being delusional.

"I'm probably not even his type."

"You totally are," Scott says and Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

"How would you know?"

Scott scuffs his foot for a second, cheeks pinking before he admits, "I've seen his porn stash."

"You what? How could you not tell me? How could you not show me?" Stiles practically shrieks, feeling betrayed.

"It's werewolf stuff."

"Still," Stiles says, more curious than ever. He knows there are some werewolf specific magazines, has even ventured onto some websites in his free time and it's all kind of...

Stiles really wants to know what's in Derek's stash and why it makes Scott seem so sure that he's Derek's type.

"How did you find it? Did he show you? He would've known you were in his room, man."

"No way. He has a box under his bed and I saw it when Talia sent me into his room to grab his washing. He'd kill me if he knew."

"I won't be able to live another day without knowing what is in that box," Stiles says solemnly and Scott pulls a face at him, but it clears and he's nodding.

"Oh, totally! We should snoop and you can see what Derek likes and win him. It'll be romantic."

"It'll be creeptastic," Stiles corrects.

"He won't know."

"How? He'll smell me in there. I don't want to die at eighteen with my throat ripped out clutching a werewolf spank mag and looking surprised. What will my dad say?"

Scott snorts a laugh. "Look, Derek will have to grab me from school tomorrow. He's got his writing group after so he'll be in a rush. Come with us to the pack home and we can check his room while he's out."

"Derek has a writing group?" Stiles asks, momentarily distracted by the image of Derek sitting at a table with other people, wearing glasses and possibly a cardigan. Stiles shakes himself. "Scott, he'll know."

"I'll think of something, don't worry," Scott insists, then dances around Stiles with large, pleading puppy eyes until Stiles throws his hands up.

"Fine!" he relents and Scott grabs him up and hugs him so hard he can't breathe.

"Dude, you're the best!"

"When this all fails miserably and you and I are left with nothing but each other for company, remember you said that."

*

When they get out of school Monday the Camaro is indeed idling in the parking lot, looking dark and out of place. Derek pushes the passenger side door open when Scott and Stiles reach the car, already scowling. "C'mon," he grunts.

"I need to come back to your place. I left my biology book. Stiles is coming with, okay?" Scott says, already pushing the front seat down to let Stiles into the back.

"What? No," Derek says. "I don't have time to-"

"Dude, relax," Scott says. "Just drop us off at yours and we can get Laura to take us home when she gets off work."

Derek gives them an impatient glare but waves them in. Stiles looks at his glowering countenance in the rear vision mirror and thinks that there is absolutely no way that Scott's plan will work. They'll be doomed to a life of playing Mario Kart in their underwear together and lamenting what could have been. Stiles is jolted out of his own head by Derek barking, "Stiles, seat belt!"

Scott looks back at him over the seat and Stiles gives him a significant eyebrow waggle to indicate just how much he thinks they're out of luck. Scott just turns on the puppy eyes again which, totally unfair and Stiles slumps backwards, suddenly very tired.

Derek barely lets them out of the car before he's peeling away again and Scott ushers Stiles up the porch steps, ducking into his own room to grab a spray bottle when they're inside. No one's home at the Hale house which is unusual. It's generally full of people practically bumping into each other and Stiles is taken a little aback at the quiet. "Peter's family has gone up the coast and everyone else is at work or after school stuff," Scott explains as he shoves Stiles in the direction of Derek's room which is up the stairs.

"What's in the bottle?" Stiles asks.

"Citronella."

"Don't you guys hate that stuff?" Stiles asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, which is why I'll spray everything we touch in Derek's room and he won't know you were there."

"He'll know someone doused his room."

"He'll think it's a prank. He'll totally blame Laura. She's always doing stuff like that to him," Scott says.

"That's oddly brilliant," Stiles allows, cranes back over his shoulder at Scott who's practically shoving him up the stairs. "What if he figures out it's you?"

"Allison's worth it," Scott says.

"Sap," Stiles snorts and then they're at the top of the stairs and Stiles is unceremoniously shoved through Derek's bedroom door. He freezes like a trapped animal, because while the Hale house is as familiar to him as his own at this point, Derek's inner sanctum has never before been breached. He takes a moment to goggle around at Derek's clean floor and dark red walls. His bed's neatly made and there's a stack of books next to his desk in the corner because the shelf above is full. His closet door is ajar and he's got a couple of framed photos on top of his chest of drawers beside the window along with some other detritus that obviously came out of his pockets and wasn't returned.

"Scott, I don't know about this," Stiles says, chewing on his thumbnail.

"It's fine," Scott says, although he's starting to look a touch unsure himself, but his face firms and he says, "It's not like we're going to read his diary. We're just looking for stuff so you can break the ice."

"Man, he's all ice. I think if you ever broke it there would just be more ice underneath. Wait, does he have a diary? Because that would be awesome. I bet it has My Little Ponies on it and Derek writes in it with a sparkly pen about his hopes and dreams." Stiles totally babbles when he's nervous, he's not gonna lie.

"Just have a look around," Scott presses, crossing to Derek's closet and poking his nose in. Stiles looks at the bed, chewing his lip before he leans down. It has nothing underneath except a pair of sneakers and some hand weights and Stiles lifts upright again.

"Dude, I think he knows you found his stash. He's moved it."

"So?"

Stiles shrugs, moves over to the stack of books while Scott bumps up against him at the desk. Stiles sees a few titles in what looks like French and Russian plus, oddly enough, some Young Adult fiction he wouldn't have guessed Derek would read. He smiles to himself, possibly goofily because Scott elbows him and says, "Check over there."

Stiles wanders over to the other side of the room, opens the first draw on reflex of Derek's bureau and is staring down at Derek's underwear. He dry-swallows and shoves the draw closed again quickly. He'd been expecting t-shirts, normal people had shirts in the top draw but apparently not Derek. He pokes around the top of the draws, shuffles coins, a dry cleaning stub and a concert ticket. "Hey, Furface."

"What?" Scott says, looking over his shoulder.

"No not you. The band, Furface," Stiles says, waving the ticket. It's at an all-ages place just outside Beacon Hills. Stiles knows Danny tends bar there when there's an event on because his Uncle owns it.

"Who?"

"Werewolf indie band? How do I know this and you don't?" Stiles asks. "You know," Stiles takes a breath and sings, "Bark under my claws, you under my paws, rarr, rarr, rarr."

"Yikes, don't ever do that again," Scott says, pulling a face and Stiles throws a stuffed horse at him. Scott bats it away but comes over. "Hey, that's something you guys can have in common. When are they playing?"

"Um, Friday night," Stiles says, but he's dubious. "You want me to go see a werewolf band by myself so I can accidentally bump into Derek there and strike up a conversation about our mutual love of bad lyrics and good guitar riffs?"

"It's perfect."

"I don't think that word means what you think it means," Stiles intones, quoting Princess Bride and chuckles to himself.

"Stiles, there's only one ticket. He's going to be there by himself too. He'll have to talk to you."

"By proximity shall I woo him?" Stiles asks.

"It's-"

"Perfect, right. Look, one ticket doesn't mean he's going to be by himself."

"It's Derek," Scott huffs. "He does this stuff by himself all the time because he doesn't like anyone remember?"

"He's known me for years. Why do you think he's suddenly going to like me if I happen to be at a concert he's at?"

"He does like you."

"You just said he doesn't like anyone."

"I meant anyone outside of the pack," Scott clarifies, looking at Stiles like he's silly for thinking otherwise.

"Yeah, but I'm not exactly pack. I'm more your plus one."

"Ugh, don't be dense," Scott dismisses.

"Whatever. You're buying the ticket."

"We'll just take this one," Scott says and Stiles stares at him.

"The whole point is me being at a concert he's going to be at too. If we steal his ticket, that kind of defeats the purpose."

"He'll think he lost it and buy another one. I'll ask him on Friday, make sure he's still going." Stiles arches an eyebrow at Scott and he frowns. "What?"

"No, nothing. Just... you've become scarily diabolical of late."

*

"I'm not giving you alcohol," Danny says, rolling his eyes when Stiles manages to fight his way through the crush of people to the bar. "A, because I'm not allowed to serve it and B, you sober is bad enough."

"I'll buy you alcohol," someone says behind him and Stiles turns around to find himself practically caged in against the bar by a tall guy with gravity-defying bleached hair and a self-satisfied smirk. He's encroaching on Stiles' very personal bubble.

"Hey, back off buddy," Danny says, bless him, from behind Stiles.

"Who's going to make me?" the guy asks and a hand lands on his shoulder and he's tugged roughly backwards.

"I might give it a try," Derek says, eyes glowing and expression thunderous.

"This yours?"

"I'm my own property, thanks," Stiles huffs, adjusting his jacket with quick yanks. He sees Danny waving out of the corner of his eye, probably hailing security and the guy must too because he sneers, says, "Whatever," and retreats.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asks Stiles flatly, once he's watched the creeper disappear into the crowd.

"I happen to like Furface," Stiles says haughtily.

"You're here to plead Scott's case," Derek says and Stiles shakes his head.

"No way. I know you're under orders from your Alpha and you take that shit seriously."

"I do," Derek says, "So you can go home now."

"I'm here to see the band," Stiles repeats. "I try to support the independent arts whenever I can."

"You didn't support anyone," Derek says. "You didn't even buy a ticket, you stole mine."

"What?" Stiles says, trying to look outraged but also not outright deny it because Derek would pick up on the lie in a literal heartbeat.

"Show me your ticket."

"So you can give it the sniffer dog treatment? No way. I'm insulted."

"You should seriously just go."

"I've suffered through an hour of the terrible support act. I deserve to see the main gig," Stiles says. "Look, I don't even need to be near you. I'll go all the way over to the speakers, really work on my tinnitus for later in life." Stiles even manages to back up a few steps before Derek reaches out and snags the front of his shirt, tugging him back to the bar.

"Two cokes," Derek orders when Stiles beams at him and Danny nods, smirking and moving away to get their drinks. "So, how long have you been a Furface fan exactly?"

"You want proof that I'm legitimately here to enjoy the musical stylings of a bunch of talented werewolves? Fine. Their first album was Howl Away but it didn't sell very well until they re-released with the song Black Claw which got some play on alternative radio stations. They've had three bassists and their drummer is a turned werewolf and is missing the little finger on his right hand because he lost it before he became a wolf."

"Wow," Derek says and before Stiles can be too smug he adds, "That only proves you know how to use Google."

"Well, they're no Schrödinger's Wolf but who am I to judge, right?" Stiles says and then pushes off the bar when he finishes his soda and presses back through the crowd. He's gratified when he stops to feel a warm presence at his side as Furface take the stage.

"You know who Schrödinger's Wolf is?" Derek asks, sounding uncertain.

"Sure, don't you?" he smirks as Derek blinks at him and then scowls. He says something that Stiles doesn't hear because Furface start up, guitars over-loud and drum beats vibrating through Stiles' ribs. Despite himself, he starts moving to the music because he does genuinely like it, had maybe checked them out months ago when he'd heard their music coming from Derek's room one night.

Someone knocks into Stiles' other side and he's pitched into Derek roughly, who puts an arm automatically around his waist to steady him. He tugs his arm away almost immediately but Stiles feels the heat of it like a brand all night, doesn't miss the way Derek moves behind him when the rest of the crowd starts getting a little rambunctious, growls out warnings at anyone that jostles them.

"You have a ride home?" Derek asks when they stumble out into the parking lot after the concert. Stiles inwardly curses himself for bringing his jeep and not just getting a cab to the place. He debates the merit of pretending he doesn't and getting Derek to drive him but has no idea how he'll get back out to collect his jeep the next day. Scott lost car privileges after Talia ratted him out to his mom about Allison and he's not sure how he'll explain it to his dad considering he's supposed to be at Scott's place studying.

"Yeah," Stiles says, trying not to sound disappointed about it and Derek huffs and then waves as he slides into the Camaro. Before he pulls away, he lowers his window, leans out to say, "You owe me eighteen bucks by the way."

"For what?"

"For the ticket."

"Wha-?" Stiles splutters as Derek kicks up gravel jetting out of the parking lot.

*

"He'll never go for it."

"We have to keep the momentum up."

"I'm starting to have serious reservations about this."

"Would you just-"

"What are you two whispering about?" Derek asks and Scott and Stiles don't squeak at all when Derek just appears in the kitchen the next weekend.

"Just," Stiles says, trying to ignore the way Scott is elbowing him in the ribs. "We thought maybe a pack outing, us and you, Isaac, Boyd and Erica?"

"To do what?" Derek asks, looking suspicious and a little surprised. Stiles figures it's because he's not usually included in their plans when they do stuff with the other younger wolves. Stiles is surprised himself to see Derek start to look tentatively pleased which is a completely new expression that Stiles has never seen on him before. They hadn't been asking him because he was a grouch and they'd figured he would just say no.

"Bowling," Scott says.

"Ugh, really?" Derek says pulling a face. "Why bowling?"

"It's the only thing that you guys aren't naturally badass at," Stiles cuts in. "It remains a point of high hilarity to me that werewolves are, as a group, terrible bowlers."

"That's speciest," Derek says and Stiles pokes his tongue out at him.

"C'mon Derek, you never do stuff with us," Scott wheedles and Stiles watches as Derek agrees, trying to look grudging about it.

The three other werewolves pile into the kitchen, Isaac grabbing Stiles in a headlock per usual but for once there's someone present willing to save him the indignity of a noogie by prying Isaac off him. Stiles grins at Derek, already seeing the benefits of having him in attendance. Isaac, Erica and Boyd all look a little shocked that Derek is joining them, but they quickly devolve into a fight about who gets to ride shotgun in the Camaro.

At the bowling alley, Stiles spots Lydia, Jackson and Allison almost immediately and grabs Scott, shuffling him sideways. The others have already reached the shoe counter and Stiles trusts the arcade sounds behind them to drown out their voices. "Scott, dammit. Did you plan this?" he hisses.

"I just wanted to see her," Scott whines, then pats at Stiles. "No one can complain about it because Derek's here and she's in a group too. It's totally not a date."

"That's flimsy, man. Derek's going to turn around and march you out of here."

"He won't," Scott says. "He's never agreed to come out with us before. Whatever you're doing is working." Stiles tries not to be insulted by how amazed Scott sounds about that.

"Technically, we've never really asked-"

"Scott!" Derek barks. He's got a pair of ugly bowling shoes in an illogically big size hooked over his shoulder by the laces as he points behind himself roughly to where Isaac, Boyd and Erica have joined Lydia, Jackson and Allison at the adjoining lane. "Did you not think I'd notice?"

"It's totally innocent. We're just in a group, all friends," Scott lies so very, very badly but Derek just pinches the bridge of his nose and jerks his head at the others. Scott beams and darts around him.

Stiles follows, falters a little when he hears Derek grumble, "Well, now I know why I was invited," so low that Stiles is pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear it.

Stiles feels something uncomfortable turn over in his belly as he makes a beeline for the shoe counter and Scott, who's still looking ecstatic. He nudges into Stiles and says in a low voice, "You think you could distract Derek so I can see Allison alone?"

"Dude, I don't know. I don't wanna feel like I'm tricking him."

"You're not Stiles. You do like him. It's not like you're faking that."

"Just the circumstances," Stiles sighs and Scott gives him a sad face. "Fine, I'll try but he's going to be watching you like a hawk."

What Derek actually does is be terrible at bowling like the rest of them. After another gutter ball, Stiles can't resist shuffling up to him. "Do you want us to put the kiddie guards down, big guy?" he asks, faux concerned and patting Derek's shoulder. Derek shrugs him off roughly, scowling and going back to the ball dispenser to wait for his ball. Stiles follows, he can't resist.

"They have those ramp things you can roll your ball down."

"Stiles, gloating is not attractive."

"If I were worried about being attractive to you-" Stiles starts to say but when Derek gives him a funny look, he changes direction. "Look, it's not that hard."

"For you maybe," Derek grunts, plucking his ball up and moving back to the lane.

"You're just over-aiming," Stiles says, "Plus you hook wildly to the left."

"How do you over-aim?" Derek says, but lets Stiles push him a few steps sideways to the right so he's not in the center of the lane anymore.

"Because you're aiming for the pins. Aim for the little arrows on the floor. See them?" Stiles asks gesturing and Derek nods, but he looks dubious.

He seems to do what Stiles instructs though, because he manages to knock over four pins and looks adorably ecstatic about it. The other wolves cheer and Derek does a dorky little victory dance that leaves Stiles doubled over and wheezing from laughter. When he's able to lever upright again, he can see Scott and Allison are hastily making their way back to the group from the direction of the arcade.

"Hot dog?" Stiles asks, trying to keep Derek focused on him.

"Five."

"Five?"

"I'm a growing werewolf," he says and actually puts a hand out to tug on Stiles' ear.

"Growing into a blimp maybe," Stiles says, poking at Derek's rock hard abs. Derek curls away but he's almost giggling and Stiles just stares at him. Erica and Boyd both come up and bump against him, then demand Stiles teach them whatever voodoo allowed Derek to actually hit a pin. Derek watches on, looking like he's enjoying himself immensely and dutifully congratulating Boyd when he knocks down three pins and Erica when she outdoes them all with five.

Stiles tries to ignore the sour feeling in his gut telling him that this is all just a little unfair, that he wants this but not exactly this way. Then Derek is picking him up and threatening to bowl him and Stiles is flailing, cursing and laughing all at the same time.

*

The full moon that month is on a Wednesday and Stiles, against his better judgement, trails Scott to the Hale house. He stays on Scott's weekly visits but usually skips the full moons. Talia and Laura are in the kitchen with cups of coffee and their heads together when they arrive.

"Hey Stilinski. We usually don't see you on the wolfiest day of the calendar," Laura greets, getting up to loop arms around him and squeeze. Stiles returns the hug and then steps aside when she gets Scott in a headlock. Scott squawks with indignation as Laura leads him out of the room by the head and Stiles pulls himself up onto Laura's abandoned stool.

"It's nice to see you tonight, Stiles," Talia says as Stiles sniffs at Laura's abandoned coffee, shrugs and downs it. When he looks sideways at Talia, her eyes are narrowed in the careful way that means she's about to broach something delicate. Stiles swallows hard as she says, "It was nice of you to take Derek along with the others on your outing the other night. He doesn't mention it but I know he feels left out sometimes."

"Oh yeah, no problem," Stiles dismisses, only a slight waver in his voice.

"He's mentioned you two have spent a little time together lately."

"Not that much. Just bowling and, um, a concert."

"I mean it's lovely as long as..." Talia leaves the sentence hanging and Stiles slides off the stool, hooks a thumb over his shoulder.

"I should probably find-"

"Stiles," Talia interrupts, catching his sleeve. "I want nothing more than to see my pack healthy and happy."

"Me too," Stiles says, feeling a growing sense of unease.

"That includes you, you know?"

"It does?"

"Of course it does sweetheart."

"I'm just... I'm here for Scott."

"You should be here for yourself," Talia says gently.

"Stiles?" Derek says from the kitchen doorway, smiling. He's never known the guy to smile so much and Stiles is worried about how much he likes it, how much he likes that he's putting those smiles there. "You coming running with us?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Stiles says dryly as Talia releases him with a fond if worried pat. "I'll stay inside and kick Billy's ass at Madden."

"No, come on," Derek says. "Come out. You haven't seen me full wolf before." Derek looks strangely hesitant, finding his fingers suddenly fascinating as he adds, "I'd like you to."

"You can do that?" Stiles asks, impressed.

"Not all betas can," Talia says, a note of pride in her voice. "I don't think Scott will ever get there, Boyd and Erica maybe not either but Isaac and Derek have been working hard and they've managed it. It's impressive."

"Mom," Derek sighs, blushing.

"I'd, um, I'd like to see that, yeah."

"Cool."

"Just... you guys won't try and eat me, right?"

Derek snorts and grabs Stiles' hand, tugging him outside where the others are already waiting. There's a live energy thrumming through the air that's a little heady and when the others start running for the forest, whooping and pawing at each other, Stiles can't help but follow. He's deep in by the time he realizes he's been well and truly left behind and Stiles huffs and drops his butt onto a half log, pulls out his phone and brings up Tetris, noodling about while he hears the howls echo around the forest.

"Oof!" Stiles gets out as something large and furry bowls him straight off the log and flat onto his back before darting away. "You're a comedian!" Stiles yells after the retreating form, a tan, shaggy shape that Stiles figures is Isaac. When he manages to push upright again, Stiles is face to face with a large black wolf. "Derek?"

The wolf lolls his tongue out, then pushes forward and licks over Stiles' face. "Yurgh!" Stiles yelps, pushing the questing muzzle away from himself. Derek dances away, then drops his front paws and yips. He's a monstrous thing, beautiful and deadly, yet he's acting like a puppy at play. The incongruity makes Stiles wheeze with laughter.

"How about fetch?" Stiles asks, picking up a stick and lobbing it. Derek watches it sail away, then turns back to Stiles with his head cocked and an unimpressed expression that oddly translates to his wolf face.

"Fine," Stiles says, sits back down on the log and pulls a Reese's package from his pocket. Derek immediately perks up and Stiles holds the peanut butter cups away, says, "I thought chocolate was bad for dogs."

Derek makes another unimpressed face and Stiles rolls his eyes, says, "Fine," and digs one of the cups out of the package, tossing it at Derek. He plucks it out of the air neatly then spends the next few minutes chewing and whining because obviously peanut butter and fangs don't mix. "I told you," Stiles says, shoving the other cup into his cheek and grinning around mashed chocolate.

Stiles doesn't see any of the others and after about an hour when the temperature starts to really drop, he makes his way back to the house, Derek at his side. Stiles reaches out and tugs at Derek's fuzzy ears every now and again, completely enchanted and Derek makes what sounds like a contented grumbling noise.

When they reach the house, Derek whines a little and Stiles says, "Go on, go chase rabbits and knock over Isaac for me."

Derek darts away and Stiles drops onto the porch steps, listens to the night and the sound of wolves.

*

"How stupid do you think I am?" Derek asks dryly when the next day Scott brings up going to Greenberg's party that Saturday night. There's always a giant BBQ outdoor feast after a full moon, the wolves excused from classes because they can be a little ornery and Stiles had wheedled the day off as well. His attendance record is pretty exemplary if he does say so himself so it wasn't really a hard favor to ask and Stiles had never gotten to hang out at the post-moon cool down.

"I don't think you're stupid," Scott says, frowning as the others roll around beside them. Stiles is currently trying to get Erica to stop pinning him and Derek's giving them increasingly irritated, narrow-eyed glances. "I'm just asking you to be a person for once."

"Scott," Stiles says, scolding and Scott looks at his hands, face flushing. He's generally the nicest werewolf you could ever meet, but sometimes after a moon Scott can approach Jackson levels of douchtastic behavior. He always apologizes profusely and on the few occasions he's done something to hurt Stiles, there would be about a week of grovelling afterwards.

"Sorry, just, c'mon, please?" Scott says.

"It won't be a very fun night for you. I'll be on your shoulder every second," Derek says and Stiles doesn't miss the way Scott's eyes skip to him and away before he's shrugging.

"Better than staying home doing nothing," he says and Stiles knows Derek knows that Scott is hiding something from his dubious expression but can't pinpoint exactly what.

"Fine, an hour only. I've got better things to do than be the creepy older guy at a high school party."

"Like writing angsty poetry in your room?" Erica says, faking Stiles out by appearing to let him up, only to come down on him like a ton of bricks and give him a healthy jab to the kidneys with her elbow at the same time.

"Get off him!" Derek barks and the others freeze, looking at him because there was fangs and blue eyes making a very quick appearance. Derek's usually fastidiously careful about outright displays of wolfdom. He clears his throat as Erica rolls off Stiles and into Boyd, blinking. "Sorry, just... he's not a toy, okay?"

"Thanks," Stiles says, getting up and brushing himself off while Derek ducks his face, blushing. "Um, I'm going to go see..." Stiles gestures vaguely behind himself. There's no way there's food left considering the wolves in attendance, but he makes his way over to that area anyway to join Isaac who's already poking dejectedly through Tupperware to find that one glorious last mouthful.

"There's bean salad," Isaac says, indicating the only still-full container on the table and Stiles pulls a face.

*

They've lost Derek.

Scott doesn't seem concerned about it, considering he's tucked into a corner with Allison and they're rubbing noses and giggling which, bleah. Stiles shakes his head, knows that Scott won't have seen anything since that started so is unlikely to know where Derek has gotten to. Stiles changes tack and tries to find one of the other wolves who will be able to sniff him out. Stiles isn't exactly concerned, but Derek was supposed to be shadowing Scott all night and it's not like him to shirk his duties like that.

Plus, he's totally their ride.

"Erica!" Stiles calls, spotting her blonde head through the crowd. She's in the living room of Greenberg's house amongst a large crowd that are watching something. Stiles gets to her side, hooks a hand in her elbow and tugs. "Hey, Erica, I need to find-" Stiles' voice dies in his throat because he glances up at what everyone's watching and it's Derek.

It's Derek, dancing on a table.

As Stiles watches, slack jawed, Derek strips his shirt off and tosses it, managing to hit Stiles in the face. Stiles claws the material off his head then jabs Erica in the side. "What the hell?" he demands.

"Scott wanted us to give something to Derek to help him relax," Erica says, not looking away from the display, eyes full of glee.

"You drugged him?"

"Ugh, don't freak out. He's fine. He's just a little drunk."

Derek gets his belt off, tosses that in another direction and Stiles flails his hands at him. "That doesn't look like a little drunk!"

"He had the same amount of wolfsbane as all of us. Just..." Erica chews her lower lip and Stiles makes go on circles with his hands. "Well, he's not used to it. The first time it kinda hits you hard."

"Oh my god, you guys are the worst," Stiles says, pushing his way through the crowd of onlookers. Stiles reaches the table edge and tugs at Derek's pants leg. "Hey Magic Mike. Get down from there!" Stiles yells over the cheers as Derek thumbs open the top button on his jeans.

Derek looks down and his face lights up. "Stiles! Hey!" he says and promptly falls head first off the table.

"Okay, fantastic," Stiles sighs as the crowd scatters leaving only him and Erica behind. He hunkers down next to Derek who's rolled over and is wiping a bloody streak from his temple. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Derek huffs, accepts the hand Stiles offers him to pull to his feet. He wobbles dangerously and Erica appears at his other side.

"You're not fine," Stiles says. "We're so leaving."

"Scott-"

"You're in no shape to babysit anyone," Stiles says. "Allison can take Scott home, I saw her car on the way in."

"I just need to lie down," Derek says and then attempts to do so, right on the floor.

"No way," Stiles says, bodily getting between Derek and the floor and shoving him back. "I'm not dragging your unconscious ass out of here. You're going to stay up and awake until we get to the car."

"You're bossy," Derek says and chuckles to himself, pawing at Stiles' face.

"Erica," Stiles snaps and she nods, helping him frogmarch Derek outside and to the Camaro. Stiles feels a little bad digging into Derek's pockets for his keys and then shoves Derek's shirt at him that he'd hooked over his shoulder. "Get dressed and then in the car."

"You're not driving," Derek says, pouting.

"I most certainly am," Stiles says and gets Erica to help him tug the shirt over Derek's head and then unceremoniously shove him in the passenger seat of the Camaro. He looks at Erica who looks torn and huffs. "You'll be okay to get home yourself?"

She gives him an uncertain eyebrow. "I could come-"

"Naw," Stiles says. "I got it."

Erica darts in and gives Stiles a quick peck on the cheek before she's skipping back to the party.

Derek seems to be asleep for most of the trip. Stiles takes the liberty of plugging his own iPod into the dock of Derek's car and halfway through the first song playing, Derek rouses and paws at the console. "Hey wait, isn't that-?

"Schrödinger's Wolf," Stiles says. "Got a bootleg six months ago of their Shake and Scratch tour set. I tried to get tickets when they were in Vegas."

"Wait, I remember you were saying that you were going to that concert," Derek says and Stiles blinks, surprised.

"Yeah, I got taken by a dodgy scalper. The ticket taker actually laughed at me when I tried to get in. I spent a lovely night outside the venue because I spent all my money on the bogus ticket and the bus trip already."

"Didn't you get grounded for that?"

"Totally," Stiles sighs, remembering the very recent, very miserable three months he'd spent under house arrest. His only time out of the house was the weekly visits to the Hale's which his father hadn't had the heart to restrict him from. "The only thing to show for the trip was the bootleg that I got from a guy selling them out of a suitcase outside."

"I should totally do this," Derek says, slumping further down in the car seat. Stiles can kind of see what Erica and the others were aiming for when they spiked Derek's drink. He was now relaxed, the most mellow Stiles had ever seen him. It would even be nice if Stiles didn't know that it was completely fake.

"I already told you, you can't drive."

"No, this," Derek says, flicking a hand at the iPod.

"Sell bootlegs outside of concerts?"

"No, start a band," Derek says. "Or join one."

"Heh, you could totally start the werewolf equivalent of the partridge family," Stiles says, laughing. "I can just see Erica playing the tambourine."

"Shut up," Derek huffs, crossing his arms defensively.

"Wait, you're serious? Sorry, just... I had no idea."

"I like writing songs."

"Don't you play like, fourteen instruments too?"

"Don't exaggerate. It's only four," Derek huffs, but when Stiles steals a glance at him he's blushing again which is a good look on him.

They take the long road up to the Hale house in silence. When Stiles pulls up, he drums on the steering wheel, unsure what to do next. Derek strips his belt off and leans across the center console in a determined way. Stiles' heart beat ratchets up until it's thundering in his ears and Derek's just getting closer, but then his whole face goes pale and he lurches back and then pitches himself out of the car.

Then throws up.

"Ugh, lovely," Stiles sighs, tumbling out of the other side of the Camaro and racing around. Derek's already done by the time he reaches him, bent over with his hands braced on his knees. "You okay?"

"Just my body getting rid of the toxin," Derek says. "My mom better be ready to bite some new betas because I'm going to kill the ones we have."

"They didn't mean to do this," Stiles says, flailing his hands to encompass Derek's sweaty form.

"I know," Derek says. "You all think I'm too uptight."

"I'm kinda learning to like it," Stiles offers and Derek gives him a puzzled glance before he shakes himself.

"Take the Camaro home. I'll come get it in the morning."

"You sure?" Stiles asks, loathe to leave Derek the way he is but Derek waves him off after he makes an abortive move forward.

"Yeah, go. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Stiles sighs.

*

Stiles is lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling the next morning when Scott pokes his head into his bedroom. Stiles holds a hand up and says, "Dude, I'm sorry but I'm out." Scott gets shoved further into the room and Allison is behind him. Stiles groans and rolls over, burying his head in his pillow. "Does your pack mom know where you are? No ganging up, unfair," he complains, voice muffled.

A gentle hand touches his shoulder and Stiles knows it must be Allison, rolls onto his back again and raises an eyebrow. "Hi," she says. "Scott told me what you guys were up to."

"You didn't know?" Stiles says and when Allison shakes her head, Stiles leans around her to throw a startled glance at Scott who's got his hands dug into his pockets and looks extremely hang-dog.

"We talked about it and we decided it was really unfair on you," Scott says. "I was being selfish and I'm sorry. I just... I got so focused and I couldn't see anything else."

"That's...okay?" Stiles says a little haltingly. He was expecting a real argument after deciding he couldn't do what they had been doing anymore. "It's not like running interference with Derek was a real hardship," he adds with a dry laugh.

"It was for you though, wasn't it?" Allison prompts gently.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stiles grumbles, pulling his pillow over his face. Allison plucks it off. "Fine, do you want me to admit that I'm such a loser that the only time I went after what I wanted was when my best friend asked me to so it's all tainted?"

"It's not tainted," Scott says quickly, looking upset by the prospect. "Even though it's really weird, if you want Derek then you shouldn't let what happened stop you from letting him know."

"I was kidding myself. He was just being nice."

"Dude, when is Derek ever nice?" Scott asks, raising an eyebrow.

"He's nice," Stiles defends loyally, then sighs. "So, what about you guys?"

"We talked to Talia," Allison says. "She agreed because we came clean on our own to chaperoned dates."

"With Derek?" Stiles asks.

"No, worse. Laura," Scott says.

"Ha, oh my god. Serves you right, dude," Stiles says and then offers a genuine smile. "That's great, really."

"Anyway, we're going to go see a movie. Laura's meeting us at the cinema. Do you want to come?" Allison asks and before Stiles can protest she adds, "For your company, not to distract Laura in any way."

"Nah," Stiles says. "I don't think I'm done wallowing quite yet."

"Well, when you finish that you should go see Derek," Allison says, punching Stiles lightly on the arm. "Go all out. Put yourself on the line."

"Easy for you to say."

"Sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity," Scott adds and Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

"What have you been reading?"

Stiles drags himself downstairs when Scott and Allison have left. His father's at the kitchen table with the paper open in front of him and a coffee by his hand. He smacks Stiles' fingers when he makes a grab for the coffee and Stiles hisses and snatches them back, making his way glumly over to the coffee machine.

"Derek was here to see you," his dad says.

"Was?"

"I went out to get the paper and he was standing on the steps. He rushed off though, said he forgot about an appointment."

"When was this?" Stiles asks with a sinking feeling.

"While Scott and Allison were here," his dad says and Stiles groans and drops himself into the chair opposite his dad, thunking his head on the table in front of him. Derek had obviously heard every word they'd said and had beaten a hasty retreat.

"Okay, right," Stiles says, jolting upright and his father gives him an amused glance. "Time to do a little dignity sacrificing."

"You going to have time to mow the lawn or is the dignity thing going to take all day?" his dad asks drily.

*

Stiles is standing beneath Derek's window with his iPod in one hand and a speaker in the other. He'd remembered what Scott said about Derek being oblivious even in the face of obviousness but he figured what the hell, go big or go home.

"What are you doing?" Erica asks, poking her head out of a lower window.

"I'm here to see Derek," Stiles says, the duh implied. "Where is he?"

"You guys are morons."

Before Stiles can get Erica to elaborate on what that means, she disappears back into the house and there's the loud growl of the Camaro behind him. Stiles spins in place, contemplates hiding the iPod for about three seconds, then shrugs and figures he might as well play this out, regardless of the high chance of disaster.

"Stiles? What are you doing here?" Derek asks when he gets out of the car. He doesn't look angry, but he doesn't look exactly thrilled to see Stiles either.

"Look, I don't know how much you heard at my place-"

"I heard the part about you running interference with me for Scott. Figured that was enough," Derek says gruffly.

"Okay, um, well, I figured because of that, even though it's kinda overdue and you probably won't believe it anyway now, that a grand gesture was required to tell you how I feel."

Derek looks puzzled, eyebrows furrowing. "You're playing the song Pack Mentality. You're saying you just want to be friends?"

"What? Shit, no!" Stiles swears, yanking his arms down and stabbing at the iPod. "Crap, the track changed when you drove up. I was playing Mates-" Stiles almost bites his tongue stopping himself from saying it, because what exactly was he thinking? Almost saying it aloud makes him realize how ridiculous he's being.

"Mates For Life?" Derek prompts, eyebrows so high they're almost kissing his hairline. "Is that what you were playing?"

"Yes," Stiles admits to his shoes.

"Sing it," Derek says, voice carefully neutral.

"What?"

"Go on," Derek says and Stiles just stares at him for a second before he sags. He would do anything for Derek to forgive him and he's had to do worse things than sing.

"I hate your hair, I hate your smile, I hate you yeah, except I don't, not at all. Nooooo, no, no, not at all," Stiles sings gustily. He's opening his mouth again when he notices Derek's shaking and turning red. "Dude, are you alright?" he asks.

Derek bursts out laughing.

Stiles feels a reflexive stab of hurt in his gut. He tucks his iPod and speaker into a pocket and says, "I'm glad you think the idea of us is so hilarious." He's moving towards his jeep when Derek intercepts him, trying to get himself under control with real effort.

"I'm sorry, it's not... Stiles! Your singing voice is terrible. How did I not know this?"

"I'm more a rhythm guy. You don't need to carry a tune to play drums," Stiles sniffs.

"You play drums?"

"I needed a way to burn off excess energy. When I was ten, my dad sound-proofed the garage and set up a kit for me so I stopped breaking stuff inside the house and myself outside of it. I think me jumping off the roof with a paper mache hammer was the last straw for him."

"A hammer?"

"Yeah. Y'know, Thor?"

"You are a unique person," Derek says, thumbing tears out of the corners of his eyes.

"In a bad way?" Stiles asks hesitantly.

"Definitely not in a bad way," Derek says, tucking a hand behind Stiles' belt and tugging him closer. "So, what was all of this about, huh? Tell me the truth."

"Scott did want me to distract you, but he only asked me because he knew I had a pathetic crush on you and he probably knew I would never have done anything about it myself, the weasel," Stiles adds because again, Scott is surprisingly devious under his puppy eyes.

"Stiles," Derek says and it's fond exasperation rather than anything else. "You're a loyal dumbass."

"I know," Stiles says, wrapping his fingers around Derek's forearm where he's still holding Stiles in place. "Am I also a deluded dumbass to think I have a...mphuh!" Stiles' sentence cut off by Derek darting in for a quick, hard kiss. "Okay, not deluded. Awesome information, thanks."

"No, not deluded," Derek agrees, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of Stiles' mouth.

Stiles just beams helplessly at him, can't really believe that this is happening.

"About time!" Stiles hears yelled from the house and he thinks for a moment the voice is Erica, but then Derek groans, "Mom, geez!"

Stiles giggles helplessly into Derek's shoulder.

*

"So," Stiles says, after they've migrated to Derek's room and Stiles is tentatively touching fingers to his ravaged mouth while Derek wraps around him, being a cuddlemonster which Stiles was not expecting but is greatly in favor of. "Apparently there's werewolf porn somewhere in this room that proves I'm your type."

"Stiles," Derek rumbles.

"Seriously. I need to see it."

"You need to shut up," Derek disagrees.

"But-ah, no! Unfair!" Stiles wails as Derek starts tickling his ribs.