Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Hale House was a giant vault of countless memories, most of them good, a few bad. And with the exception of gaining Alpha powers and watching his psycho-bitch ex getting her throat slit, it felt as though all the memories Derek had there since the fire she'd started had been bad. His sister's murder; that punk ass beta, Scott, digging her up; Hunters; fighting; Peter's everything.

The moment Derek currently found himself in definitely fell in that same “Shit” category and he found himself wondering what the fuck he was thinking when he decided to come back. Okay, he was worried about his sister, who'd been lured back then suddenly stopped communicating—a habit that was definitely Derek's and not Laura's—and the fact that she'd returned to check out "rumors" was not reassuring in the slightest, so he'd made his own way back from New York, only to have the Shit Fest continue. He'd thought he'd gotten a handle on it all, thought gaining Alpha powers and creating a Pack would be the start of an upswing, but instead, it was becoming a failure.

His luck was the literal worst.

Being in the home that the great Talia Hale had once ruled out of wasn't helping. Neither was Scott's rebellion and Allison's own psychotic break, Peter's return and whatever the fuck was going on with Lydia. He didn't even wanna think about what a fucking mess Jackson had turned out to be.

Still, Derek had thought he'd done right by at least three teens in town—even though he believed it could've been at least four had Scott not turned out to be such a douchebag—taking them out of shit situations, giving them the power to turn their own lives around, giving them a new family. Except now Boyd and Erica were standing across from him in what had been the Hale living room, Boyd strong and silent as ever, Erica with a watery smile as she quipped about wanting to get her license.

Both telling him they were leaving.

And Derek explained that the Werewolves they thought they'd heard may have been fewer in numbers than they thought but still they were insistent upon leaving. Not that he could blame them. Beacon Hills was a place Supernatural went to die and the charred mausoleum that had once been a home they currently stood in was proof.

So he nodded, took in their words as he took in his surroundings and came to a decision of his own.

"I'll go with you."

Those four words had stopped the pair dead. Boyd's eyebrows shot up in an expression of bored surprise while Erica struggled to say anything beyond a stuttered croaking noise. The twosome exchanged a look, wordless conversation taking place before Derek's eyes, one that they wouldn't have been capable of only months before when Boyd was alone in his head and Erica spent half her time convulsing on the floor. He sometimes wondered if they weren't fucking already, only for their scents to inform him they weren't, and he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just hoped they'd use their own room. And protection.

The pair both turned back to their Alpha with dubious expressions, Erica's more obvious and as plain as the red staining her lips. "You sure? Thought Beacon Hills was, like, your family's land or whatever?"

Derek folded his arms and scratched at his whiskered chin as he thought back over the past few months: Scott's emergence as a Werewolf and Peter's return and the Hunters slowly taking over. He then thought of the flames that had consumed his home and his family, of the rejection he'd experienced at Scott's hand and the way these two were on the verge of the same. He thought of the stares he experienced when in town, the whispers people thought he couldn't hear, and how a bunch of teenagers had set him up for murder—twice—while pushing him aside. He was an outsider on the land that he'd been born and raised on, land his family had once guarded as fiercely as they'd guarded one another.

"Not anymore," he stated plainly, mind flashing to the arrival of Marin Morell and Deaton's warnings of the Alpha Pack coming. For all he knew, those Wolves Boyd and Erica had heard were them. It was best he left before he did further damage to the town.

Or before it completely destroyed him the way it seemed like it had been trying to do for years now.

Running away was cowardly and shameful, Derek knew this, but he refused to acknowledge the emotions driving into his stomach like a lead pipe impaling him. Instead he focused on the way Boyd held his back stiff and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, at the way Erica stood with her chin tipped up and her lips pressed together to hide the tremble. He owed it to them, to his Pack, to protect them, watch over them, lead them. He'd done a shit job so far but he was gonna turn it around, make sure they all lived.

"There's nothing wrong with running to make sure you can fight another day," he paraphrased, eyes focused on his black boots as he struggled to figure out who he was aiming those words at, realizing they all needed it.

They let Isaac in on their plan and after sleeping on it, he decided to join them, citing no reasons to stay in town. Derek was honestly a little surprised, considering the hint of arousal that wafted off the kid every time he was around—or even thought of—Scott. He wondered if maybe he'd been rejected then decided it wasn't any of his business. He was the last guy on the planet who should comment on anyone's romantic or sexual life, given how life-endingly terrible his own was.

They all agreed to leave that Friday night when the town was focused on the lacrosse game—which Derek never understood the appeal of—Erica and Boyd packing their things in secret, Isaac already having what he wanted stashed at the old subway car repair warehouse that had become their headquarters. Derek stashed the Camaro in one of the Hale Vaults before grabbing all of his cash, emptying his bank accounts as well, before buying a cheesy old Volkswagon Bus that was white on top and yellow on the bottom. Erica had laughed and asked if they were gonna paint flowers on it. Derek had threatened to leave her ass behind, a comment she'd rolled her eyes at.

The only thing left to do was clear out the Hale House of anything valuable that he and Laura had missed before their move to New York and he saved that job for Friday afternoon, as last minute as possible, partially so no one would suspect anything, partially because he wasn't looking forward to it. Despite the existence of the family vaults, the house felt like the last thing left of his old Pack, the only thing left in Beacon Hills that proved they'd been there in the first place. He knew it was a miracle the charred structure was still there after all those years and had a feeling that when he left this time, the house would finally be torn down by the county. It was a bittersweet notion really, a relief that the reminder of that godawful night would finally be gone, a gut punch that the removal of it meant the family truly was dead and never coming back.

Coffin nail, Derek thought, grabbing the hidden Bestiary from where it had been stashed in the stairs once more and slipping it inside the duffel he'd bought solely for this purpose.

Of course Peter chose that perfectly timed moment to saunter in, arrogant as ever despite the countless blows he'd been dealt the past few weeks. His first Beta had rejected him, a bunch of teenagers had set him on fire, his nephew had killed him then shoved him away after his unfortunate resurrection. Yet the asshole still walked with an authority he hadn't earned, smug grin on his face that suited those finely tuned features as it sat below a sharp blade nose that was pure Hale genetics.

Derek ignored him as he arranged the book in the duffel so it wouldn't get too damaged, so the bag itself could still zip closed. He knew it was only a matter of time before Peter spoke, unable to stop running his mouth, unable to handle being ignored, unable to resist snooping where he didn't belong. Part of Derek was curious as to why Peter was there in the first place but he refused to give the prick the satisfaction of asking, of prompting a conversation, especially when it gave Peter the chance to discuss his favorite topic: himself.

Not that Derek believed for even a second that the silence would last, not with Peter being...well, Peter. He had to know all, see all, be all, and the fact that his nephew was currently ignoring him as he felt in between couch cushions, it had to be driving him insane.

Or rather, more insane than he usually was.

Not that Derek cared, not after everything Peter had done to him over the past year, not when he was about to leave his uncle behind. Family or not, the asshole wasn't coming with them.

It took about three minutes, long enough for Derek to finish checking the couch and armchair then head over to his duffel as it sat on a nearby table, but Peter finally broke first. He'd remained by the open doorway the entire time, icy eyes narrowed in anger at being ignored and puzzlement at his nephew's current actions.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, breaking first just like Derek knew he would, watching the younger Hale zip his bag closed.

Derek contemplated his next move, his next words. Continuing to ignore the bastard was an option, pretend he wasn't there or that he hadn't spoken. But chances were he'd chase after Derek until he got some sort of answer and while Derek knew he was stronger due to his Alpha powers and Peter having recently been dead, he just flat out wasn't in the mood to deal with being hounded. Part of the reason why he was skipping town in the first place was because he was sick of people with ill intentions following him.

"I'm leaving town," he said flatly, not looking up, focused solely on the zipper and making sure nothing got caught or ripped.

Out the corner of his eye, Derek noted how his uncle raised an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest, pulling at the V shaped collar of his tee that was probably already dipped below most people's standards. "Really?" he drawled, a hint of amusement coloring his words. "Despite the threat of the Alpha Pack headed this way? Despite the Ancient Argent and his goons gathering up everything that so much as had a hint of Supernatural in it? Despite the Kanima running around and killing everyone out of a need for vengeance?"

Part of Derek wanted to point out how that last one could also be used to describe Peter himself but kept quiet, refusing to be dragged into a debate. "More like because of all those things." It was risky to admit the weakness to a power hungry psycho who'd already proven that family meant nothing when it came to getting what he wanted. He was fairly certain he could take down his uncle—again. If not, then he'd finally be put out of his misery and possibly even join the rest of his former Pack. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac could just leave town without him, find safety far away from this cursed place.

Peter snorted derisively, sneering as he rolled his eyes. "Running away? Really? And here I thought you were Talia Hale's son."

The words were like a stab in the chest but Derek refused to show it, features as flat as his voice. "Guess I take after my dad." With that, he gathered up the straps of his duffel, sliding them up his arm so it was hooked on his shoulder. He gave one last glance to the room that had once been one of his favorite places to hang, remembering how it used to look, then grabbed his leather jacket from where he'd draped it over the back of an armchair.

"Well, I'm not leaving. This is Hale territory and some of us still remembering what that means."

The words were another dig at Derek, he knew it, his uncle determined to antagonize him into a fight. But Derek was now able to see that for exactly what it was, was now able to recognize the fact that Peter wanted to goad him into a brawl so he had the excuse to kill his nephew and take the Alpha powers back.

Only Derek wasn't falling for it, not this time. He may not have been the best Alpha so far in his short time as one, but he was changing that shit starting at that moment. He was getting his Pack out of Beacon Hills, leaving the mess to a kid who honestly had a few delusions of grandeur of his own, stupidly believing that he'd be able to toe the line and bring peace between the Supernatural and those who wanted them dead.

Crossing the living room, Derek paused in front of Peter, looking him in the eye, acknowledging him for the first time since the older Hale entered the house. "Good," he stated flatly before a smirk formed on his face. "Because you're not invited." He clapped his uncle on the shoulder with more force than necessary before exiting the room then the house. He stowed his duffel in the trunk area of the VW bus, along with the suitcase of his meager belongings that he'd brought to Beacon Hills in the first place. And as he slammed the door shut, he caught sight of Peter watching him from the window, glaring disdainfully.

Derek's last action on his family's property was to flip his uncle off as he drove away.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were all waiting in the parking lot of the subway car repair warehouse, just as Derek had instructed. They'd packed minimally, Isaac with a single suitcase, Boyd with a duffel and backpack, Erica having the most with a couple suitcases, a backpack, and a make-up kit. It took some rearranging but they managed to fit it all in the VW Bus, some things stowed under the two rows of seats. Only twenty minutes or so after Derek had pulled up and he was behind the wheel again, Isaac in the passenger seat, Erica and Boyd behind them as the foursome left town.

They had no real destination other than “Not Beacon Hills” and they agreed to head east, trying to get as much distance between them and the town as possible. Derek vetoed New York as an option, not wanting to live anywhere he and Laura had already stayed at. Despite the time, the loss of her still felt fresh and he wasn't in the mood to be inundated with memories of her. Defeated the purpose of them moving somewhere new to start over.

The ride was silent save for the rumbling engine and the wheels on the highway. Isaac gnawed his fingernails in turn as his knee bounced up and down, before he finally passed out. Boyd and Erica stared out their respective windows, occasionally glancing at the other when they thought they wouldn't be caught looking, the blond drifting off first and Boyd the last to fall. Derek was used to staying awake all night, paranoid about Hunters or other Packs looking to pick off Omegas, but he still grabbed a few energy drinks from the gas station when he stopped to fill up the tank.

The sun rose as they reached southern California and with it, the Pack also woke up. Erica insisted they go to the beach at least once and Derek was loathe to deny her. He knew it was dangerous to stop but part of him was hoping that with their late night escape, Beacon Hills—and with it, the Alpha Pack—was still unaware that they'd left. Safety was an illusion, he knew this, yet he found himself pulling over and parking at the first beach they came across, figuring there was no harm in indulging for a little while. They sat in the sand eating terrible breakfast burritos and drinking burnt coffee, the wind blowing Erica's hair in practically everyone's faces and a seagull trying to steal Isaac's food from his hand. It wasn't perfect, but it was the closest to peace he'd felt since Laura had left New York.

Things felt lighter as they crossed the state line into Arizona. Boyd produced an iPod from somewhere, Erica suggested driving games that they were all forced to participate in, Isaac's leg eventually losing the nervous bounce to it. Derek could almost fool himself into believing that they weren't running away, but rather going on a road trip, a group of friends headed out to see the country rather than save their own skin.

They detoured to the Grand Canyon and spent the night in a shitty motel nearby, Derek and Isaac crammed onto one bed, Erica and Boyd sprawled out on the other. They took turns having cold showers, Erica having stolen all the hot water the joint apparently had, then set out once more. Tourist traps were fallen into, World's Biggest This, World's Smallest That. They ate crap fast food that had the Bus—now affectionately dubbed The Bee—stinking of grease and starch. Bare feet were propped up on open windows and songs were sung loud and off-key.

And with each passing mile, Derek felt the tension seep from his shoulders just a little bit more.

Day Four of their zigzag journey had them in Texas, Erica and Isaac arguing over rodeos and Boyd shaking his head at them both. Derek let them carry the debate into the gas station as he filled up, glancing around the truck stop. Erica had started a collection of magnets for every state they passed through, for every landmark they visited, and he figured the Flying J would be a good place for her to find another one. Not to mention the gas was cheap and the food a step up from the usual shit they shoved in their faces.

He frowned as he heard the pump cut off, the tank full, wondering how much of his inheritance he'd blown through on fuel alone. The Bee was a gas guzzler.

Clicking the trigger, he tried to squeeze a few more drops into the tank, trying to get his money's worth, trying to delay the next fill-up a little longer. As he did so, he peered around at the other vehicles, the other people, something prickling the back of his neck. Carefully honed Werewolf instincts were trying to warn him, a sense of something coming putting him on edge. Immediately he was sent back to a few months prior when he'd tried to fill up his old Camaro and instead had suffered through a conversation laden with implied threats courtesy of Argent before his goons had smashed his windows.

Scanning the other patrons once more, he checked for any paying him extra attention, taking note of where everyone's eyes were aimed. He stretched his hearing and focused it past arguments over directions, chastisements over leaving siblings alone so help me, orders for junk food, requests for the bathroom, a few terrible tunes that apparently passed as music those days, all trying to find if anyone's heartbeat was irregular, like they were preparing to strike. Every inhale brought the strong scent of gasoline and truck exhaust, fried food from the attached diner and burnt coffee, cigarettes that shouldn't have been lit anywhere near there and alcohol spilled on the pavement. Meaning it was impossible to pick up on any chemosignals or the scent of anything not-human and threatening.

The ease that had settled over him the past few days disappeared immediately, replaced by the tension that had caused him to leave Beacon Hills in the first place. His skin felt too tight, ribs crushing against his pounding heart, shoulders tight and spine stiff. Replacing the nozzle back on the pump, Derek looked inside the convenience store, checking on his Pack, making sure nothing had happened to them. From what he could tell, Erica was cackling at cowboy hat she'd clearly put on Boyd's head, the taller Beta as impassive as ever. And Isaac...

Shit, where the fuck was Isaac?

Screwing the gas cap back on and closing the flap over, Derek gave one last glance around the station lot as he double-checked the Bee was locked. Then he headed for the convenience store under the guise of needing to pay, trying to move as fast as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. Years of being an Omega on the run, both with and without Laura, had taught him how to blend in, how to get to safety without being spotted. Necessary for survival when Hollywood depicted one as a monster, when Hunters wanted to strike him down solely for being born.

The store door opened as he drew near and he jerked himself to a stop as he watched who exited. Erica was now in a straw cowgirl hat, boots on her feet, Converse sneakers and a plastic bag in one hand and a pink Slushie in the other. Boyd held a blue Slushie and a couple bags of his own, white with a cheesy yellow smiley face and a wish for them to “have a nice day” printed on them, stretched with food and drinks for the next leg of their journey. Behind the pair was Isaac, now donning a pair of sunglasses, carrying his own smashed ice drink and clutching a suitcase he didn't have when he'd exited the Bee. And next to him was...

Derek frowned, lips parting in confusion as his green eyes roamed the newcomer. Brown hair hung straight down to her shoulders, denim jacket covering a black tank and matching jeans, Converses on her feet. But it was her face that really drew his attention in, tan skin, brown eyes he hadn't seen since his mother's death, nose that had belonged to his father, and freckles he'd last seen on...

His mouth fell open further and he barely noticed Boyd and Erica flanking him until he felt her leaning against his side, head tilted as the blonde inspected the brunette female in front of both of them, one with an eyebrow raised in pure Hale fashion.

“She recognized your scent on us and couldn't believe that you'd managed to form a Pack of your own. We told her we couldn't believe it either.”

Derek turned and leveled a scowl at Erica, shoving her away and ignoring her cackle. Rolling his eyes in dismissal, he turned back to what felt like a ghost turned real, turned older. Because it had been years since he'd last seen his baby sister, still in footy pajamas as she kicked her legs at the breakfast table, enjoying her pancakes. Derek had ruffled her hair despite her constant protests against it and the last thing she'd said to him was that he was a “butt in the buttuckus”, her own child-friendly way of calling him a “pain in the ass”. He never thought he'd see her again and had spent years racked with guilt that his actions had caused the death of not just his entire family, but his baby sister who'd barely begun to live.

Yet...yet there she was, seventeen and staring at him sardonically, hip cocked and duffel bag strapped across her chest, a couple Slushies of her own in each hand.

“You like the gross red ones, right?” Her voice was different but the sass was pure Cora and Derek finally found the ability to breathe, to move, stepping forward and hauling her in for a bear hug. The drinks were taken by some unknown Pack member and she hugged him back just as fiercely.

No one said a word as he cried into the shoulder of Cora, his little sister back from the dead.

Driving after that was out of the question so they got two rooms at a nearby motel, the two Hales in one, the other three in the adjoining suite. No sleep was gotten that night as Cora told all about her life after the fire, how Peter had managed to help her escape through a couple bars on the basement window, her body still small enough to fit. She'd gotten stuck behind the mountain ash barrier, until a hunter accidentally broke it, and it was just enough time for her to run away before they'd fixed it once more. Terrified beyond words, she'd kept running until she'd fallen and passed out, spending the next day or two alone before a wandering Pack had found her. Eventually they'd made their way to South America, where she joined a different Pack in Brazil all made of orphans and Omegas, until word reached her of the return of a Hale Alpha in her hometown. She'd been on her way back there, hitchhiking the journey, until she'd come across Derek's scent on the three Betas.

Derek shared his own stories of his time with Laura in New York, coming back to Beacon Hills after they'd been drawn there by symbols left on dead animals. He didn't sugarcoat any of what happened after in regards to Laura's death and his own slaying of Peter—which Cora commended him on, glad their uncle hadn't gotten away with murdering their sister—and admitted to his mistakes with Jackson and the resulting creature he'd become. He also explained his turning of Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, how he'd hoped Scott would joined them, too, only to realize what a stubborn asshole brat he was, then the threat of the incoming Alpha Pack. He admitted to his own cowardice for leaving, but Cora didn't fault him for it, saying it was only natural.

He kept the truth about the fire to himself, however, not wanting to lose his sister a second time. Everything between them was fragile, like the lace on his grandmother's Dresden dolls that she'd loved to collect, and the last thing he wanted to do was break things and have Cora go back to South America. So instead, he invited her to go with them, to join their journey with no destination, and she readily accepted. A watery smile formed on Derek's face at that as he held his sister close and scented her, feeling like a huge part of his life had just clicked into place.

Still, he felt the nagging belief that he was still missing key pieces and he knew that being without a real territory was a major part of it. He brushed it all aside, determined to make sure his Pack was all right before he ever worried about his own needs.

They left early the next morning after taking advantage of what the hotel called a “continental breakfast”, which was nothing more than stale bagels, cold waffles, and sealed plastic bowls of cereal, as well as too warm orange juice and not strong enough coffee. Derek began wondering if he was ever gonna have an actual good cup of the stuff again before he turned thirty.

The five of them piled back in the Bee soon after, Cora's luggage added to the rest of it, now piling slightly into the third row. Isaac gave up the shotgun seat for her in a move that was probably meant to be an acknowledgment of her higher status as the Alpha's sibling, but given the amorous tint to his scent, Derek mentally questioned his motives. While he was glad the Beta wasn't pining after Scott or Allison or both, he wasn't too keen on the kid's eyes being set on his younger sister.

Cora herself was more sullen and quiet than she had been as a child, not that Derek could blame her. Trauma like that affects one in major ways, on such a deep level. Derek himself was no longer the person he was before the fire, even before Paige, a fact he could admit. Gone was the cocky, self-assured teen with the easy smile and the outgoing, slightly flirtatious personality, replaced with a perma-scowl and more pessimistic outlook.

Although considering all the shit that had happened over the past year, maybe it wasn't pessimism so much as realism.

Whatever the case, Derek didn't fault Cora for being more withdrawn, especially considering the fact that she was in a vehicle with a bunch of people who were essentially strangers. The three fools in the rear seats may have been Pack to Derek, but that didn't mean the relationship felt the same to Cora, regardless of any blood ties. Hell, at this point, after so many years apart and having changed so much, he wouldn't have been surprised if she no longer saw him as Pack or family either.

But as the miles passed, so did the distance between them all. Each tourist trap seemed to bring them closer together, make them better friends. Granted it was rough going at times, Cora laying into Derek at one point, Erica snapping at all of them in turn at another time, but after a full moon spent shifted and running around a national park, the tension and animosity seemed to dissipate.

The atmosphere in the Bee relaxed, became more joyous. Cora began smiling and laughing more, sharing embarrassing stories about Derek from their childhood, the older brother responding with tales of his own. Isaac seemed less anxious and more open with all of them, loud and chatty from the rear bench. Boyd proved to be quite humorous in his own dry way, quick with a comeback and witty retort. And Erica was a feisty minx who had no problem putting any of them in their place, far removed from the meek and mild teen she had been when Derek first met and offered her the bite.

Somewhere in the Midwest, Cora exposed Derek as a fan of early 90s alt-rock, leading to playlists full of Collective Soul, Hootie and the Blowfish, Blues Traveler, and Counting Crows. Windows were rolled down as they all sang loud and off-key to Two Princes and Breakfast at Tiffany's, Derek surprising everyone with his ability to carry a tune during Wonderwall. Isaac made a quip about the Bee starting to smell a little too much like teen spirit and Derek got the chance to pull his first dad remark by threatening to turn the Bus around.

Hotels and motels were stayed at overnight, full moons spent in big parks with no chance of anyone being around. Most of the time they only spent a day or so in a town, but bigger cities they would stay for a week, getting rooms under fake names, blending in with tourists. Derek loved the anonymity of it but hated how it felt reminiscent of his time in Brooklyn with Laura. But his Pack was thriving away from the pressures of Beacon Hills, able to act like sixteen and seventeen year olds without any cares.

The weather grew warmer and the group grew closer, becoming a true Pack. Derek spent a night away from them, alone in the Bee so no one could see or hear him crying over the fact that he'd been able to gain what he'd lost all those years ago, what he'd hoped to create when he gave the teens the Bite. He felt undeserving yet he knew he'd hold onto it with all he had, refusing to lose any of them, especially when he'd come to close to having that happen back in California. If anyone noticed his red-rimmed eyes or his absence, they said nothing, instead spending the next night in a giant pile on the biggest bed Derek had ever seen.

Despite it all, Derek still felt that missing piece and he wondered if he'd ever be a hundred percent happy with the nomadic lifestyle they'd all fallen into. But once again, he brushed aside his own desires, putting his Pack first the way an Alpha should, their happiness and peace bringing the feelings to his own life.

The emergence of summer found them reaching the east coast and discovering that the season was truly different in this part of the country. The air was thick with humidity and Derek felt as though he could drown in it at times. Mosquitoes were also a bigger nuisance here and they seemed to enjoy his taste, constantly swarming him whenever he set foot outside the Bee. Poor Isaac was also a magnet for the pests and also apparently carried the allergy to whatever coagulant mosquitoes used after they finished drawing blood, now constantly covered in red bumps and itching like mad. It was then that Derek discovered he didn't suffer from that same affliction, nor did Cora, as no bites ever emerged on their skin.

They passed through the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, heading toward the foothills, marveling as the scenery on the roadsides of highways changed from slate rock stretching up to the sky to rolling hills full of lush trees and wide rivers. Huge swaths of wildflowers painted medians and the rounds of exits in hues of yellow and purple, earning the appropriate “oohs” from Erica and snorts from Isaac that meant he was impressed but trying not to show it for whatever reason. Derek figured he'd need to talk with the Beta about how it was okay to be excited over things, that he was no longer under his father's oppressive rule, but he knew it was a chat for another time when it was just the two of them.

Complaints over hunger began with Erica as they so often did, the blonde not one to shy away from how she was feeling, not anymore. Cora joined in, followed by Isaac, and Boyd's remarks over how he could eat. Derek didn't bother pointing out that they could all eat—and a lot—deciding instead to stop off at the next town they came across to grab some lunch. There was no point in commenting over his own stomach demanding food as well.

The next town happened to come only a few miles later, exit signs informing them about the locations of a Pizza Hut, a Burger King, a combination Taco Bell and KFC, and some place called “Lou's Diner”. A couple gas stations were also off the same exit so Derek signaled and veered left onto the ramp, stopping at the red light at the top. The right corner was a Shell Station, not much happening beyond that, just a stretch of what was a back highway according to the sign straight ahead. To the left was a bridge crossing the highway they'd just left, a familiar building made to look like the red hat logo of a Pizza Hut, Exxon sign across the road from it, BK further down.

“Can we not get fast food?” Cora groaned, hand over her stomach, fingers clutching her Metallica tee.

“Pizza Hut isn't fast,” Isaac commented from the back and she turned in her seat to glare.

“I'm with Cora,” Erica chimed in, ignoring Isaac's snorted out “shocker”. “Let's go to that diner or whatever was on that sign.”

“Lou's,” Boyd offered.

“Yeah, that.”

Derek flicked on the left turn signal then looked at his sister who simply flicked her hand in a “whatever” manner before shifting her attention outside her window.

Unhelpful.

“Lou's it is,” he decided, moving his foot from the brake to the gas when the light turned green. Isaac complained about his pizza craving in the backseat, Erica argued with him over how often they'd had that very food during the past couple months, and Derek ignored them all in favor of looking out for the diner. In all honesty, he was sick of fast food, too. Sick of snacks bought at convenience stores and shitty stale coffee from gas stations and whatever unhealthy shit they had delivered to their motel rooms at night. He could use something that amounted to a real meal—or at least as close as they could get while on the road.

Meaning diner food rather than overly processed bullshit from a chain fast food joint.

The back highway they drove down was sparsely populated, right up until they hit the Pizza Hut. After that, buildings became more frequent, although still widely spaced out. A strip mall was on the left featuring a chain grocery store and a Wal-Mart, as well as a Little Cesar's Pizza that had Isaac chanting about crazy bread before Erica thankfully whacked him upside the head. Further down was the Oak Creek Motel, only two cars in the parking lot, and Derek wondered if they were guests or employees, given the lack of life he was seeing there.

They drove another mile, past a few houses, before coming across a sign welcoming them to Downtown Oak Creek then a stop light at an intersection, Main Street crossing Oak Creek Highway they were currently driving down. It was obviously the center of town, with a strange square shaped road encircling an area, crossing through both the highway and Main Street. Across and to the left was a large building claiming to be the county courthouse, the police station across to the right. On either side of Derek were shops, a lawyer's office, portrait and framing studio, hobby store, antiques. The street heading down to his right went about half a mile before turning into a large circle, an open grassy area preceding what looked like a bandstand of some sort. Straight ahead was apparently a couple schools, according to the signs anyway. To the left, more shops.

Derek spotted Lou's Diner in that direction and flipped on his indicator, turning once the light changed. The street was nothing but parallel parking and he managed to maneuver the Bee into a space in front of a second-hand consignment shop, curious stares coming from within. The Pack disembarked from the Bus, groans being let out as they all stretched, Derek shaking his legs to regain feeling in his increasingly numb ass. Trucker butt was real and he was learning that first hand.

Unfortunately for him.

Glancing around, Derek took in the lazy street, not quite deserted but not exactly bustling either. It was reminiscent of Beacon Hills, maybe even smaller, the few residents scattered about in no hurry to get anywhere. The only real difference was the energy here, the lack of magic in the air. Probably for the best, when he thought about it. There was nothing pulling Supernaturals in, nothing holding them there, meaning there was no threat from whatever monster was drawn to whatever energy and then tried to kill whoever stood in their way.

The calm helped something settle in Derek and he took a deep breath in, holding the air in his lungs. There was the heat of the summer, the same muggy humidity clinging to his skin, the scents of freshly mowed grass and food from the nearby diner, the peace residents emitted that was a result of living someplace where no bad ever happened. It was the cliché small town of old TV shows, Andy Griffith and Leave It To Beaver, everything black and white and any problems they faced were minor, non-life-threatening, and solved in half an hour.

Idyllic, the word came to Derek's mind, and part of him longed to settle in. He'd never been meant for big cities, something he'd learned during his time in Brooklyn. He liked open air and open spaces, houses with big yards, woods to explore in, areas to roam. It was what he'd loved about Beacon Hills so much. Not the fact that it was his family's territory and that he had so many memories there—although that was part of it, but not the whole of it. It was how he had space to feel free, feel like himself, feel like he could blend in with the crowd and be human, yet the population was small enough that he could easily see a threat coming, narrow down who it came from and how to take care of it.

He pondered over the nomadic lifestyle his Pack had fallen into and how long it would last, if they'd ever settle in one place and when, and what kind of place. Would they be happy in a small town like this? Would they prefer the fast pace of a big city? Would they prefer something in the middle, a suburban mid-size town that had a bustling downtown but quiet neighborhoods? It was definitely something they'd need to discuss at some point, but Derek wasn't sure when that time would come, if it would come.

Really, now would be good, before they got back in the Bee and back on the road, while there was still a chance that this could be the place for them.

His stomach growled. Okay, lunch first, then discussion. Discussion over lunch maybe?

“Yo, Der!” Erica called out to him and he double-checked he'd locked his door before finally slamming it shut. He gave one last glance around the area, spotting a coffee shop across the street and wondering if they'd actually make a decent cup of joe, maybe even to go, then turned his attention to his Pack.

The four of them were on the sidewalk in pairs, Erica and Boyd practically leaning on each other as they stood waiting on him, Cora and Isaac at the glass window of the diner checking out various fliers that were taped up. Derek wasn't entirely sure what it was that they were looking at, only that it had them both completely enraptured, Cora pointing at it as she murmured to him, Isaac glancing over the top of her head toward Derek, making the Alpha think they were talking about him for some reason.

Or maybe he was just paranoid.

Then again, being paranoid had saved his life more than once over the past couple years.

Not that he thought the two of them were plotting to kill him.

At least he hoped not.

Boyd and Erica followed him to the front door and he glanced at the flier Cora and Isaac were fascinated by, taking note of apparently some sort of founder's celebration taking place in the town square—more than likely exactly where they were—the next day. Live band, petting zoo, face painting, local artisans, and appearances by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was advertised with fireworks happening after dark. Seemed like fun, and the kind of thing typical of small town America.

Lou's Diner was closer to a restaurant than a stereotypical diner, the inside done up in aged wood rather than linoleum and vinyl. Tables were placed randomly, booths lining the sides, the hostess podium empty with a sign saying to seat oneself. The walls were decorated with framed fliers and newspaper articles of years gone by, small town history up for anyone's perusal, a row of pennants for the local high school lining the wall above the huge glass windows. A few patrons were scattered about, all of them turning to check out the new arrivals, practically all of them in police uniforms. Derek had to remind himself that he hadn't done anything wrong, that despite what Scott had accused him of back in Beacon Hills and what he'd been questioned about, there were never any charges filed and he'd been free to go, mostly because he was entirely innocent. Yet despite that his heart rate kicked up at the sight of those dress blues and he focused on keeping his face relaxed and less murderous—according to Erica anyway.

It was just lunchtime, the place was just convenient, and the police department was just a few yards away, that was all. They weren't after him because they had no reason to be after him. Cops weren't who he was running from.

The Pack headed towards a back corner and a u-shaped booth that would easily seat all five of them, Boyd in the front and Derek bringing up the rear. He nodded his head in acknowledgment at a pair of partners chowing on burgers in a booth on his right, getting the same in return. A couple tables down on the left was an older cop with brown hair that was obviously graying and sharp blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles seated with the only person in the place not in a uniform, but instead was dressed in a gray tee and a pair of jeans, sneakers on his feet and knee bouncing under the table. His brown hair was styled a lot like Derek's—especially with the trim Erica had recently given him and Isaac both—and his scent...

Derek damn near stopped dead as he inhaled it, stronger due to the heat and the close proximity, feeling his head spin and something inside him light up. He smelled of warm mornings, of maple syrup and coffee and fresh linens, of staying curled up in bed wrapped in a favorite quilt as the sun poured in through the window. Everything that had once been dead in Derek felt as though it had been shocked, like a defibrillator trying to start him back up. The overwhelming urge to bury his nose in this stranger's neck and inhale that scent—and only that scent—for the rest of his life crashed over him like a wave, threatening to take over, and he struggled not to give in, to not let himself drown in it.

A glance over the shoulder from Isaac directly in front of him allowed him to keep the desire in check, the Beta most likely picking up on the way his heart had stuttered and was now racing, and the Alpha shook his head minutely to show there was nothing to worry about. An eyebrow was raised but Isaac said nothing, despite the obvious skepticism, turning back to face the front.

Reaching the booth, the Pack filed in, Cora in the center with Erica and Boyd on her left then Isaac and Derek on her right, the Alpha positioning himself so that he could keep an eye on the front door. Of course this also allowed him to get a better look at the young man with the tempting scent who was facing his direction, shoving a curly fry in his mouth as he spoke, hands moving about with every word. His skin was pale, body lean, with a slightly upturned nose and dark eyes. Any other details were hard to make out, just like the faded graphic on his tee, and Derek had to tear his eyes away before he was caught staring like a creeper. Instead, he focused on the table, on the scratches in the wood and the Sharpie graffiti. In the center sat bottles of ketchup and mustard, small plastic tub of various sweetener and sugar packs, menus propped up in between.

The menu was laminated, two-sided, and he checked out the sandwich options as he surreptitiously checked on his Pack. Erica and Boyd were both leaned over a menu, chatting low between themselves, Erica in Boyd's space more than necessary to just check out drink options. Cora and Isaac were along the side elbowing each other and exchanging significant looks, Cora growling something under her breath through gritted teeth, Isaac responding in kind.

Derek let out a sigh as he rubbed his forehead, eyes trained on his menu where it lay on the table. “If you two don't stop flirting, I will leave you here and finish this trip as a trio,” he warned in a low volume, fighting a smirk against the way everyone's scent became tinged with nerves.

“Sorry,” Erica stated and he raised his eyes to look at her, noting how she was no longer leaning into Boyd's space and his arm was no longer slung around the back of the booth behind her.

Alright, he hadn't been referring to the two of them, honestly used to their flirtatious behavior and having wondered at several points during their journey if they hadn't finally gotten together. Turned out they never had but he knew it was only a matter of time.

Maybe when they settled...

“Not you,” he clarified, not bothering to add that he wished they'd shit or get off the pot already, turning his eyes to the other pair in the Pack. “You.”

Cora rolled her eyes and let out an “ew” as she crossed her arms and slumped back in her seat, all in typical teenage fashion. Isaac looked flat out scandalized, blue eyes wide and mouth making like a goldfish as he struggled to think of a comeback. Derek folded his own arms and pinned him with a hard scowl, waiting him out. It was only a matter of time before he broke and spilled.

“We were just tryna decide—” he blurted, glancing back at Cora who was clearly refusing to help. “We wanted to—actually, we.” He paused, huffed, scratched his smooth jaw. “Is there any chance we could stay here an extra day and check out that festival thing we saw on this flier outside?”

Derek smirked in amusement before reaching over and clapping a hand on his Beta's shoulder. “That wasn't so hard, was it?” Isaac shook his head rapidly and Derek gave his shoulder a squeeze before drawing his hand back. “But I ever catch you flirting with my sister—”

Cora let out a “gross” at the same time Isaac let out a too loud “oh fuck no!” that drew the attention of all the other eyes in the restaurant. Erica buried her head in her folded arms to stifled her laugh and Boyd face-palmed, smearing his hand down to reveal the unamused expression he wore. Derek had to let out a snort of his own, amused at the overreaction but also relieved that he didn't have to worry about becoming a fifth wheel anytime soon.

At that, his eyes slid unbidden to the brunet male he'd been checking out before, catching him already staring in his direction with his glass raised and straw in his mouth. Their eyes met and something sparked in Derek once more, heart skipping another beat. He felt and heard his Packmates turn their own heads to follow his line of sight but ignored them, too preoccupied with the way the young man seemed to choke on his drink and the elder cop eating with him leaned over to clap his shoulder as though it could help in some way. Derek almost rose out of his own seat to go over and assist, his sense of self-preservation kicking in just in time to keep his butt glued to the hard wood below.

Erica let out a salacious giggle as Boyd raised an eyebrow in intrigue. Isaac glanced back and forth between the stranger and Derek, while Cora grinned smugly, chin tipping up in victory.

“Seems like we're gonna be staying for that festival after all,” she gloated, and Derek could only glare in response as his Pack laughed and cheered around him.

Assholes.

As the Pack ate and enjoyed lunch, the other patrons of the restaurant filed out two by two, the tee-clad stranger and the elder cop the last to go. Once they were the only group left, the foursome began to lay into Derek about his reaction to the young man, pointing out his weird heart beat and his chemosignals radiating intrigue, attraction, and a need that wasn't sexual. Cora was the one to figure out that it was a want to get to know him and Derek refused to acknowledge any of their comments or discussion, taking big bites of his sandwich and shoving fries in his mouth.

It didn't strike him until he was at the register paying that he'd requested curly fries when usually he preferred thick cut.

The Pack explored what amounted to the downtown area, going in every store and checking out the items for sale. The consignment shop proved to be a big hit, the group spending the most time in there checking out the clothes people were selling, as well as random knickknacks, furniture, old albums, and countless other random items that one didn't normally find in other stores. Summer clothes were purchased as they had packed for the colder months they had left California during, Erica having already cut a pair of jeans into shorts, Isaac having done the same—only at the knees rather than the tiny Daisy Dukes Erica had turned hers into. They also found a small bee plush toy that played a lullaby when its wings were pulled, obviously meant for a baby's crib, but Erica insisted upon hanging it from the Bee's rear view mirror. Derek, having grown accustomed to and now embracing the name for the Bus, agreed, paying for it as well as the newly acquired clothes.

Bags stashed and toy bee hung, the Pack made their way into the only shop they hadn't checked out, a small cafe called the Coffee Cat—which had all the Wolves rolling their eyes, none of them cat people, even before they were bitten. A bell jingled as the door opened and a voice in the back called out that they'd be there in a minute, the group spreading out in the shop. The place was cool, especially after having been outside moving from store to store in the humidity, the AC very much welcome. The floor was a warm wood, the walls painted yellow with framed prints of cats with coffee cups, grounds, and beans. Only a few tables were inside, wooden chairs neatly tucked underneath, a section of couches and armchairs in the back corner. No patrons were there and Derek wondered if it was due to the place not being popular, the town's presumable small population, or the fact that it was summer and therefore lacking a high demand for hot drinks.

Personally Derek didn't give a fuck what season was. Coffee was a daily need and so far he'd had to deal with subpar bullshit to get his fix.

He sent up a prayer to a god he wasn't sure existed in hopes that this place would be different.

Along the left wall was a counter as well as glass display case filled with various pastries and cakes. Erica and Isaac immediately ran over and got their grubby hands all over it, pointing out what looked good and what didn't, and Derek felt his own sweet tooth ache. If nothing else, maybe he could get a decent something for an early dessert.

The two Betas turned their heads to him and he automatically sighed out a “yes”, knowing exactly what was about to come out of their mouths. The huge grins that formed on their faces and the way Erica bounced on the balls of her feet proved him right.

Stepping over to the display case, Derek let his eyes roam over the treats and his nose fill with the scents of them. Chocolate, strawberry, lemon, custard, vanilla, cinnamon, sugar, spice, everything nice. A single heartbeat grew louder as the person who'd called out to them drew closer, making their way to the front of the cafe to serve them, bringing along their scent...

Of maple syrup, warm coffee, and fresh linens.

Oh. Oh shit.

Erica and Isaac both snapped their heads to him, although he wasn't sure if it was because they recognized that scent or if they'd once again heard the way his heart tripped over itself in response to it. Either way, Derek closed his eyes and braced himself against the onslaught that was coming, internally groaning at the fact that at some point, they'd have to leave the shop and he'd have to deal with their inquiries once more.

Double shit.

Opening his eyes, he straightened up from where he'd been bent over checking out the baked goods, watching as the brunet man from the diner appeared from behind a closed door, striding a few steps then jolting to a stop in front of Derek. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped, obviously recognizing Derek as much as Derek recognized him, and the Wolf took note of the way his heart rate tripped over itself and began again at an accelerated pace.

In much the same way Derek's did.

The young man shut his mouth with an audible click and swallowed hard before trying to put a smile on his face, the expression shaky and not staying put. Nerves leaked into his scent and Derek felt something in him twinge, his stomach dropping, at the belief that he was upsetting this guy.

This stranger.

Which, honestly, that term should've put shit in perspective. Derek shouldn't give a fuck about how some random person felt, especially when it was someone he wasn't gonna see ever again.

But he was upset over it, felt guilty. And the thought of not seeing him again... if something had twinged over making the man nervous, then now something was breaking.

Dumb, dumb, stupid, dumb.

Or not, he realized, thinking of his mom and old stories she used to tell.

He quickly brushed that thought aside, refused to indulge in any sort of fairy tale or bedtime story, not when it wasn't gonna matter in a couple days. Instead, he put on a friendly smile and tried to seem approachable, affable, non-threatening. Human.

Out the corner of his eye, he noted Erica and Isaac exchanging looks, but he ignored them, completely focused on the man on the other side of the counter, on the way he was smoothing down his burgundy apron, the lame logo of a cat silhouette with the tail curled round to make the C for “Coffee Cat” stitched onto the chest. Not that it really mattered, not with the way Derek was drawn to those hands, taking in a lean torso and long fingers that looked perfect for wrapping around Derek's...

Right. Best not to finish that statement in public, especially not with his Pack around.

His Pack who were currently all watching him, some more obvious than others, and more than likely figuring out what station his train of thought had just pulled up to.

Fucking terrific.

Goddamn chemosignals.

Not that it mattered to him, not when the barista—at least Derek was assuming he was the barista—was now smiling, warm and genuine, eyes sparkling. It was then that Derek realized his eyes were a warm brown, surrounded by thick lashes that honestly belonged in one of those mascara ads boasting about how it lengthened each lash. His skin was smooth, not quite as tan as Derek's but not as pale as the Alpha had originally thought, speckled with moles he wanted to spend all night counting, wanted to trace further down his body.

Beautiful. The guy was beautiful and that wasn't a thought Derek often had.

Or probably should have, really. The last time he'd thought that about someone, he'd lost his entire family. He had no business finding anyone else so goddamn attractive.

Although really, it didn't hurt to appreciate someone's looks, especially since he'd be leaving in only a couple days. It was perfectly safe to just...admire the scenery once in a while. Probably healthy, too, considering how Derek had shut himself off from any thoughts like that for so long. The fact that he could even think something like “the last time he'd thought that” and have it be about that psycho-bitch who'd burned his family alive was definitely disconcerting and frankly a little sad.

So yeah, he was gonna think this guy was beautiful and he wasn't gonna feel bad or guilty about it. It didn't mean anything, would never mean anything. The new relaxed Derek that he'd become on this trip was gonna live more and start by finding someone aesthetically pleasing.

“Hey,” the barista greeted, tone just as warm as his eyes and Derek felt it like a punch to the chest. His voice was surprisingly deep, an octave or two lower than the Wolf would've imagined it to be.

“Hey,” he absently replied, the word almost breathless in its delivery, lips curling up in an unbidden smile he didn't even bother trying to fight. A snicker sounded out on his right and out the corner of his eye, he noted Erica turning her head and burying her face in Isaac's shoulder as though she could stifle her giggles that way.

Pain in his ass. Maybe he'd leave her behind anyway.

Boyd would end up staying with her, Derek knew it in his gut. Which would be a shame because he really liked Boyd. The guy knew when to shut the fuck up.

Guess he wouldn't be abandoning Erica in this nothing town after all.

Derek watched as the young man's cheeks grew rosy, smelled as embarrassment leaked into his scent, brown eyes darting over to Erica then back again, then to Erica then back again. The Alpha fought the urge to smack the blonde upside her head for her misbehavior, not wanting to make a bad impression on the barista before him. A growl probably wouldn't fly either, nor would baring his fangs. He settled for shooting a scowl at the back of her head and hoping she could somehow sense it.

The way she seemed to stiffen up meant she was able to tell he was disapproving. Good.

If the barista noticed anything, he didn't comment on it, eyes fixed on Derek and grin making its way back to his face. “What can I do to you?” he asked, eyes going wide and scent going on high alert at his wording. Derek's lips parted as his mind flooded with images of exactly what the human could do to him, mainly involving him on his knees, those lips stretched around Derek's—

Right, not finishing that thought either.

“For you!” the barista quickly corrected, hands flailing in front of him. “What can I do for you? What would you like me to do—to make you, get for you?” He slapped a hand across his face and groaned and Derek felt the noise in his jeans, practically caressing his cock.

Shit. It had been way too long since the organ had been given any sort of attention by anyone or anything other than his own right hand. Add in the fact that this human smelled so good and Derek knew he was in major trouble.

“Coffee,” he answered without thought, clearing his throat of the rasp that had seeped into it and shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them to himself, as well as hide anything that may pop up.

Literally.

A snort came from the barista as he dropped his hand, smirking, eyes and scent lit up with amusement. “You're gonna have to be more specific, dude. It's a coffee shop.”

Derek frowned. “Don't call me 'dude'.”

“We call you 'dude' all the time,” Erica chimed in, no longer hiding against Isaac, and he turned his scowl on her.

“Yeah, and it's fucking annoying when you do it, too.”

She waved a dismissive hand at him before inspecting her nails and Isaac shrugged, unbothered.

“I'll take a sweet tea,” he requested and Derek's frown went from angry to confused.

“Since when do you drink sweet tea?”

He shrugged again. “When in the south—” He let the end of the sentence hang and Derek rolled his eyes.

The barista snickered and Derek felt his heart fluttered as he turned back to him, loving the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled wide. “We don't have that. You'll have to go across the street to Lou's.”

“Fine,” Erica stated, as though she was the one who originally asked for it, grabbing Isaac's wrist. “I want as many of those eclairs as you can legally give me.”

“You can have 'em all. They're gonna be thrown out in a few minutes anyway. It's nearly closing.”

“Deal.” She nodded once in finality before dragging Isaac behind her to the door, the male beta calling out for all the brownies. Boyd glanced at their Alpha before giving a shrug of his own and following, the bell jangling above the door as they exited.

Derek glanced around to find Cora in the back corner of the cafe, more invested in the scattered newspapers on the coffee table than anything else happening around her. Or at least that's how it seemed. Given what their mother had taught them, there was a huge chance she was actually listening in on everything while only making it seem as though she wasn't paying attention. It was a skill all Hales had and developed as they grew up, a life-saving technique really.

Turning back, he found the barista with a paper box in one hand, tongs in the other, picking up the eclairs one by one and placing them inside. His tongue peeked out between his lips, eyes narrowed in concentration, and Derek found the sight so goddamn endearing it made his heart hurt.

“How long y'all in town for?” the human drawled and it was then that Derek noted a hint of an accent, typical of having been raised in the south.

“Day or two,” he answered honestly, the barista's shoulders slumping subtly and his scent turning salty with a hint of upset. He wondered if maybe his attraction, his aesthetic appreciation wasn't one-sided and hated how his heart rate picked up in hope. “We're kinda just passing through as we travel.”

The barista nodded as he put the last eclair in and set the box on top of the glass display case. “Summer road trip?” he assumed, lifting his eyes to meet Derek's. “Y'all in high school, too, or—?” he let the question hang, eyes briefly flicking to Cora to more than likely check her out, see if she was as young as the rest of them.

It was then that it hit Derek, the reminder that his Pack was made of teenagers, all of whom would ordinarily be in high school and currently be enjoying a summer break. None of them had a driver's license, much less a GED, and he wondered how that would affect their futures. He'd managed to get his own degree online while in Brooklyn so it wouldn't be impossible for the rest of them to do the same. It would just be difficult as hell while on the road, especially with no computers and no access to the internet.

Probably a problem for another day, once they figured out some sort of plan beyond “get out of Beacon Hills and drive”.

Hell, they'd already accomplished that goal. Maybe it was time to figure out the next step. Maybe they could take this weekend, while staying in this town, to do just that.

“I'm not,” he answered, watching as another box was folded up and put together. “I graduated a few years ago. The other four are on a sabbatical of sorts as we travel. We, uh.” He paused, scratching at his whiskered jaw as he tried to figure out how to word things.

Truth was they'd been pretty much running for their lives. But he couldn't exactly say that, not without explaining who they were and what it was they were running from. Telling a total stranger you were a Pack of Werewolves on the run from Hunters, an evil lizard-like creature called a Kanima, and an entire Pack of Alphas wasn't gonna go over well.

So he came up with a good story—at least it seemed good to him—one that a human could accept without too many questions and wouldn't make him seem crazy.

“Their home lives weren't all that great,” he stated, letting the implication hang, knowing it had been true and why he'd turned them in the first place. “I guess we're pretty much on the run from it, trying to find ourselves on the open road or some shit like that.”

The barista looked at him with something akin to awe, scent jealous and desirous. “That sounds really awesome, actually,” he answered lowly, honestly. “I'd give anything to get out of this tiny town and just. Drive, find out first hand there's more to life than school, getting married, having kids as you work some shit job you hate for fifty, sixty years, then die.” His voice was a mix of wistfulness and melancholy, as though he wished so hard to escape yet was resigned to being trapped.

Derek's heart went out to the kid and he felt the urge to invite him on their road trip. Not really a good idea, considering they were complete strangers...

But being a stranger hadn't really stopped him from offering the Bite to Erica or Isaac or Boyd. It hadn't stopped him from creating a new Pack with the three of them. It hadn't stopped him from trying to reach out to Scott and mentor him, or give the Bite to Jackson—which in hindsight, was a terrible idea, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now.

However, the more reasonable part of him knew that offering the Bite to a resident of the town he lived in was one thing, offering it to someone from another city was another thing entirely. Anything could go wrong, something he'd learned first hand with Paige and again with Jackson. Not to mention the fact that he'd be taking this kid away from his home, from his family. With those he'd turned, he'd watched them, observed their lives, saw what they were missing and struggling with. He saw Erica suffer with seizures. He saw Isaac suffer under his dad's physical abuse. He saw Boyd suffer under his parent's psychological abuse as they ignored his existence.

So far, all he'd seen of this man before him was a lunch he ate with someone older and packing up a boxes of eclairs and brownies.

For the umpteenth time, he wished his mom was around. Not so she could tell him what to do—although that would've definitely been nice and a huge damn help—but so she could tell him what to say in that situation. She always had something profound and meaningful, the perfect words to make anyone feel better, to diffuse a situation, to clarify things. It was why she was so respected and admired by all other Alphas, why Derek looked up to her and why he missed her so much to the point where it was like a physical ache at times.

Instead, he was alone, stuck in his fumbling and trying to figure it all out for himself. He hadn't done the best job with trying to help Scott—although the kid's ideology and stubbornness didn't exactly help there—and he'd been failing with this new Pack before they left Beacon Hills. How the hell was he supposed to make this random stranger feel better?

And why the hell did he care so goddamn much?

“I'm sure you'll get out somehow,” he found himself saying, completely bullshitting his way through things. “If you want it bad enough, you'll make it happen.”

The barista let out a hum that could've meant anything really, transferring the last brownie from the tray into the box, the melancholy still in his scent. It took everything Derek had in him not to offer him a chance to escape it all, grounding himself by his sister walking over and squeezing his shoulder in support.

If anyone understood a Hale's innate need to help, it would be her.

Derek wound up cleaning the guy out of coffee cake, Cora ordering all the lemon and raspberry danishes, as well as the two of them getting coffees to go. Of course it turned out to be the best damn thing he'd had to drink over the past few months and he tried hard to figure out if it was the barista's skills in his job or the barista himself, something primal in Derek telling him that the guy could've given him actual sewage and he would've still believed it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

The Pack climbed into the Bee soon after, laden down with boxes of baked goods and styrofoam cups of various drinks, leaving the barista to close up shop as the sun began to dip over the horizon in the distance. It was only when Derek had pulled out onto the road that he realized he'd never gotten the guy's name.

They checked into the Oak Creek Motel they'd passed on the way into town, Derek splurging on three rooms rather than two and taking one for himself, letting the Betas decide how they wanted to split the others. Of course they all crowded into his room anyway, if for no other reason than to rib him about his reaction to the barista, teasing him about how cute it was that he had a crush. Derek vehemently denied it, which none of them bought—including himself—then bribed them into shutting up with pizza and alcohol. None of them could get drunk, but it was fun to pretend, and the bourbon he'd bought for himself gave him a pleasant enough buzz that it lightened his nerves for a little while.

When the Pack finally left him alone for the night and headed to their own rooms, Cora stayed behind for an extra minute, scowling at him as she tried to find the words to say before finally softly telling him “it's okay to want something for yourself. None of us will be mad.” She didn't bother waiting for him to respond, which Derek appreciated, since he had no clue how to react to it in the first place.

Unless it was a full moon the night before, Derek always woke up with the sun.

It was a habit that developed in high school, when he and his dad would get up and go for a run before he had to get ready for class, keeping him in shape not only as a Wolf, but also for sports. After he moved to Brooklyn, his body he kept up the natural alarm clock, but he would roll over and go right back to sleep—as best he could anyway. In Beacon Hills, it wasn't as easy yet he still fought his mind for every minute of sleep he could steal.

Once he'd hit the road, however, he got back in the routine of staying up when his body woke, leaving whatever hotel or motel he'd stayed at the night before and going on a jog. It didn't take long for the Pack to pick up on his habit and join in in some combination, Boyd and Isaac pretty much the only constants. The morning after they arrived in Oak Creek, North Carolina, all five of them went on a run together, heading down the highway in the opposite direction from town, passing a whole lot of nothing.

Back at the motel, they showered in their respective rooms—the girls having apparently paired up in one, the guys in the other—then got dressed and piled into the Bee, heading back into town.

Erica leaned forward from her seat in the middle row, positioning herself between the driver and passenger one to better give Derek a puppy dog pout. “Think we can stop at that coffee shop and have cake for breakfast?”

The idea of seeing the barista one more time had Derek's heart pounding in his chest, causing Erica to grin and Cora to raise an eyebrow and Isaac to lean forward from the back, and he glared as he focused on the road. “We're not having cake for breakfast.”

Erica huffed and rolled her eyes before flopping back in her seat. “Worst dad ever.”

Derek reached back and squeezed her knee in much the same way his own dad used to do to him and Laura, making her squeal and squirm about.

Barricades had been set up about half a mile outside the downtown area and a uniformed officer directed Derek to park along the side of the street. It was then that he remembered the festival they were set to have and he hoped like hell Lou's wasn't closed because of it, not recalling if there was a sign on the door mentioning it, recalling that he hadn't even bothered looking.

Shit.

Oh well. Worse case scenario, they all get back in the Bee and he drives in the other direction to hit up the Burger King.

The town square was already bustling with activity as people set up for the festival later in the afternoon. Stands had been erected pretty much overnight, food carts parked, temporary barricades being put in place. Derek inhaled the mix of oil from both food and trucks, the paint from various wares for sale, the wood used to put the stands together, the countless pounds of deodorant people had slathered themselves in to combat the heat that was sure to come. As he headed down the street with his Pack, he stole a glance at the coffee shop across the way, taking note of the customers inside, but unable to see who was behind the counter, if the same barista from the day before was working that day, too. Hiding his disappointment from his face and his scent, he went inside Lou's with the others.

The “seat yourself” sign was up once again and the fivesome did just that, going straight for the booth they'd used the day before, finding it—and the rest of the diner—blessedly unoccupied. Six coffee cups were placed around the large table, all upside down on top of matching saucers, and all but Isaac turned theirs right side up, a silent signal to whatever waitress was on duty that they wanted a fill-up.

Just so happened it was the same waitress as the day before, a woman in her late forties, early fifties, with wrinkles around her eyes and too much hairspray in her poofy bangs, well-worn white tennis shoes scuffed against the floor as she headed over with a tray holding five glasses of ice water and a carafe of coffee.

“Y'all settin' to become regulars?” she drawled with a smirk, bright red lipstick not yet cracked or worn from the day, her stereotypical gray uniform clean and freshly pressed.

Four sets of eyes fell on Derek before they all glanced away, acting a little too focused on other things: the condensation on their glass, the breakfast items on the menu, a chip on their nail, a particular scratch on the wooden table. Apparently none of them were about to answer, despite the fact that they all had something to say, and it clearly fell to Derek to be the spokesman for the group—and most likely the one to initiate this inevitable conversation.

“We're here for the weekend,” he answered plainly as coffee was poured into mugs and sweetener packs were grabbed. “Not sure of anything beyond that.”

She let out a responding hum. “Well, then y'all'll be here for the Founder's Day Fair,” she pointed out cheerfully and Derek stared at her as he tried to figure out what the hell kind of grammar she'd just used.

Y'all'll.

Various nods and noises of ascent swirled around the table, the bell above the door signaling a new customer, and Isaac managed to put in a request for an OJ before their waitress shuffled off to serve whoever had just arrived. Silence descended upon the Pack, weighted, and despite the effort Derek put into studying his menu, he knew there was no way he'd be able to just let shit slide, to ignore what was going on, not when he'd read the same item three times and still had no idea what the fuck was in it.

With a heavy sigh, he plopped his elbows on the table and dug the heels of his hands into his forehead, grumbling an “out with it” in the hopes someone actually would.

The Betas all exchanged looks, goading one another to speak up, none willing to be the first. He wondered if it was anything he'd done to them in the past, his attitude or behavior, that made them so timid to speak up on serious matters like this. He wondered if maybe it was his position in the Pack. He wondered if it had nothing to do with him at all and was just a habit left over from their old lives. Isaac couldn't speak to his father because he'd get beaten. Boyd couldn't speak to his parents because they'd never listen. Erica could never speak to her parents because she was too timid. Cora...

Cora he was still getting to know.

Cora, it seemed, wasn't as nervous as the others.

“I meant what I said last night,” she stated flatly, eyes on her own menu, and Derek lifted his head to look at her inquisitively.

It wasn't that he didn't know what she was referring to, because he did. He just didn't think she'd actually bring it back up, especially not in front of other people.

“I know,” he managed to rasp out, clearing his throat and reaching for the tub of sweeteners, dragging it closer to himself. “But every decision I make also affects you guys in some way, sometimes in bigger ways than others. I've already fucked up things in the past by thinking and acting selfishly and since we left, I've been trying to look at the bigger picture, trying to put you guys first and make sure you're all happy and taken care of before I even consider myself.”

“But we are happy,” Erica pointed out, voice so genuine he couldn't help but look up at her earnest expression, the soft smile she wore. “In Beacon Hills, things were shit for us in different ways and with everything that was getting set to happen, it clearly wasn't gonna get any better. Chances are some of us, if not all of us, would be dead by now. I mean, even if you hadn't stepped in and did what you did when we first met, I could still have been killed by a massive seizure or something.”

“My dad could've finished me off,” Isaac added on, now organizing the sweeteners in the tub.

“But instead, we're all alive, and thriving and happy,” Erica went on, smiling widely, warmly, and Derek felt his chest grow warm with it. “You've given us something we might not have ever had if we'd stayed behind. We're a family now, and as a family, we wanna see our Papa Wolf happy, too.”

The words seized Derek around the chest and his eyes began to sting with unshed tears he refused to let fall. Instead, he allowed a watery smile to form on his face, glad he was able to do something right for once in his life, thankful to be surrounded by these annoying assholes he'd grown to love.

“We have a lot to figure out,” he stated, clearing his throat once more. “We set out to leave Beacon Hills and we have. Now we gotta think about what's next for all of us, because I can tell you all right now, there's no happiness for me unless you guys are happy, too.”

Erica beamed at him. Isaac smiled softly. Cora covered her own grin by bringing her mug to her lips and drinking. And Boyd let a smirk of his own form before commenting.

“That was really fucking cheesy. Dude.”

Derek didn't hesitate to launch his trash across the table and hit his Beta in the face.

They spent the entirety of breakfast—and then some—each discussing what they wanted in the future. All the Betas expressed a desire to get their license, something Derek couldn't fault them on, and he agreed to help them each learn how to drive. The three bitten Wolves also talked about a desire to be financially independent and not live off Derek's trust fund or Cora's savings, something they all knew could only be achievable once they settled in a single place for longer than a few days. As for what kind of place they wanted to settle in, none of them were too picky. It was Derek who talked about a preference for something smaller, like where they currently were, having preferred the feeling of Beacon Hills over Brooklyn.

They all agreed California and the west coast as a whole would be a no-go.

They also agreed to stay in Oak Creek for the rest of the week in order to come up with a better plan, to see if they were still feeling the wanderlust that had them unable to stay in one town. There were a ton of options on the table, ideas to sift through, and it was only gonna happen with independent thinking and a chance to really process it all, something that would be easier done when staying still rather than constantly moving.

Time passed and around eleven, Derek settled the bill and the Pack headed outside. The fair was under way, the air filled with the scents of fried food and sugary drinks, the BO of hundreds packed in the half-mile area and barnyard animals. In the distance, a brass band played When the Saints Come Marching In, nearly drowned out by the cacophony of countless conversations. Venders called out that they had freshly cooked hot dogs, competing with those offering sno-cones or funnel cakes or deep fried Oreos. Kids giggled over at the petting zoo, another one screamed at a horse being larger than their imagination and scary, and a mom scolded someone named Nathaniel for trying to run off again.

It was loud and overwhelming and obnoxious, yet it was the most normal thing Derek could ever think of doing after everything he'd been through over the past few years.

The Pack made their way along the line of booths set up on either side of the street, checking out each in turn. There were blown glass vases in one, painted rocks in another, handmade woven baskets in a third. People sold honey from their own hives and preserves they'd personally jarred. Temporary tattoos were put on kids in one place, faces painted in another, balloon animals and hats created and sold by grown men dressed as friendly clowns that were met with mixed reactions from smaller humans.

A few shops had their doors propped open, hoping to draw in customers from out of town who'd stopped by for the festivities, extra merchandise put out for the occasion. Pennants for the Big Four colleges were displayed in front windows, t-shirts and hoodies with the high school name and mascot hung outside with handwritten price tags safety pinned on, as well as merchandise for the state of North Carolina and the town itself.

The five of them mostly stuck together before slowly falling apart, breaking off into smaller groups. Erica's sweet tooth had her dragging Boyd to find some cotton candy. Isaac's competitive streak had him challenging Cora to a ring toss game. And Derek found himself perusing prints of paintings done by a local artist, drawn to one of a black wolf with bright blue eyes that looked almost exactly like his mom had in her fully shifted form. Something clenched in his chest and for the second time that day, he found himself holding back tears as he held the plastic bound print, thumb absently rubbing over the muzzle of the painted wolf.

“That's my favorite, too.”

The sudden voice by his ear startled Derek and he internally cursed himself for not having his guard up, for not paying better attention to his surroundings. Something in him panicked over the fact that his Pack wasn't beside him, that he had no clue where they were at that moment, no clue if they were safe or in danger.

Then realization sank in and he recognized the voice that had spoken, the anxiety washing away as quickly as it had come over him.

Turning his head, he found the barista from yesterday standing next to him, grin on his face, cheeks red from the heat and the sun. He was dressed in another t-shirt, this one white the Oak Creek Police Department logo on it, khaki shorts coming down to his knees, and Adidas sneakers on his feet. He looked good, smelled good, too, sweat making his natural scent stronger so Derek could breathe it in with every inhale.

Everything in Derek seemed to relax, while tension also seeped into his bones, threatening to crush the print he still clutched. Because everything in him was screaming to take hold of the man in front of him, to haul him close and never let him go, to scent mark him and claim him and make sure all around knew that he was Derek's, and Derek's alone. He wanted to make this boy part of his Pack and also his Mate, the one by his side and helping him control the jackasses he called his Betas, to prosper and flourish side by side forever.

And he didn't even know the guy's name.

The knowledge was a cold bucket of ice water over his head and kept him firmly planting where he was, keeping his hold on the print rather than reaching out for what wasn't his, and he tried to clear the fog from his brain in order to think up a response to what was just said.

Wait, what had just been said?

“You like wolves, too?”

Okay, that wasn't what had been said, this was something new, and it was on the tip of Derek's tongue to blurt out that he actually was one, only just remembering at the last minute that this was a human who was clueless about the existence of Supernatural creatures. “Yeah. They're my favorite animal.” He felt proud for how even and clean his voice was, how he was able to keep the conversation going and not have it feel fake or stilted. “We used to have one come around our house when I was a kid and it looked just like this.” Not exactly a lie, he reasoned, enough of the truth to explain why he was so drawn towards this particular wolf print rather than the others.

The barista's eyes seemed to widen minutely at that, clearly awed by the fact, his fingers absently twisting in front of his torso in an absent-minded habit. “Where'd you used to live?”

“California.”

It wasn't until the younger man frowned that Derek realized he'd blurted it out without thinking and that it may have seemed strange to anyone outside of his cursed old town to discuss the canids being around.

“Wolves have been extinct in California for over fifty years.”

“They came back recently.” The words easily rolled off Derek's tongue, another not-quite-lie, not-quite-truth that he shrugged off.

The brunet's frown remained, fingers of his right hand tapping against the clenched ones of his left, and it was obvious he was thinking it over, trying to figure out for himself if the statement was accurate or not. Clearly a change in subject was in order and Derek racked his brain at warp speed trying to think of one.

“I'm Derek, by the way,” he said, offering his hand to shake.

A confused hum came at first before the other man caught on to what was happening. “Oh! Stiles. Nice to meet you.” He slipped his hand into Derek's, palm sweaty, long fingers wrapping around him in a firm grip. The contact had the Wolf's skin buzzing and something in him howling and he knew in that moment he'd never experienced anything like that.

Probably would never experience it again.

Honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Not that there was anything wrong with it happening at that moment. Just the opposite. It was too damn good and the thought of it happening with anyone other than Stiles was—

Wait. What?

“Stiles?” he double-checked, brow furrowing and smirk playing on his lips.

The younger man rolled his eyes, clearly used to the derision behind the moniker. “My real name is unpronounceable by practically all English speaking tongues, so I go by Stiles. Just easier.”

Derek slowly nodded, thinking the explanation made as much sense as anything. It wasn't until Stiles let go of his hand that he realized he'd been holding on to it, that his own hand was sufficiently lacking when not holding the other man's. But rather than ruminate on what that meant, he tried to find something to keep the conversation going, to keep the brunet there and not wrap things up with a “nice to meet ya, see ya round” before walking off.

“You a cop as well as a barista?” he inquired, pointing at the tee Stiles wore when met with a questioning hum.

“Nah,” Stiles answered, glancing down at the black printed shield logo adorning his left pec. “Just make coffee and go to school. Dad's the chief of police here in town. I was out of clean laundry.”

Derek laughed through his nose, able to relate, days spent on the road not conducive to a whole lot of laundry going on.

“What about you?” Stiles asked and Derek found himself incredibly grateful that he was also keeping the conversation going, that his scent was free of annoyance or anxiety or anything hinting at a desire to get away. “I mean, when you're not traveling with your friends? Family? I dunno who they are.” He let out a nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck and Derek found himself smiling at it, once again finding the guy endearing as hell.

“Kinda inbetween jobs at the moment. And they're more of a found family than anything.”

Stiles nodded as though that made sense, dropping his hand with a slap against his thigh. “Any chance I can convince you to stick around and get a job here?” He forced a laugh at the end, clearly trying to play it off as a joke, although his scent was alight with hope, fingers drumming his thigh nervously.

Derek's grin grew, his heart swelling and racing inside his tight chest. “We'll be here through the end of next weekend so. Maybe.”

The brunet beamed and his scent was the warmest thing Derek had ever experienced outside a bonfire and the Alpha wanted to drown in it for as long as possible.

The two of them remained glue to one another's side throughout the rest of the afternoon. After purchasing the print and getting a bag for it, the pair meandered around the festival, chatting away as they checked out booths and grabbed too much junk food.

Stiles had apparently been born in the nearby city—because at the time, their local hospital was too small and the OB/GYN on staff wasn't in that day, meaning his dad had to drive his in-labor wife half an hour away to deliver their only child. The lack of a decent hospital also proved to be a nuisance when his mom grew sick—although he never specified with what—and had to stay there for treatment, making visits to her difficult and much too rare for his liking. He'd been working at the Coffee Cat for nearly three years, since around his fifteenth birthday, hoping to save cash for college but instead having to put most of it into a gas guzzling Jeep he'd inherited from his mom. He also claimed not to have a whole lot of friends, too interested in comic books and video games to ever relate to the local rednecks obsessed with their 4H Club or the jocks hoping that football was their ticket out of small town life.

Derek spoke about himself as much as he could without giving away what exactly he was. He spoke of his own family's deaths in a tragic fire that investigators could never solve—a lie he told so much that at times he could believe it was the truth—and how his younger sister was the only one left, pointing her out when they past her in the crowd. He also told about how Isaac, Erica, and Boyd—whom he also pointed out—were from broken homes of their own and that they'd all banded together, deciding to get out of their old town to start fresh and make something better out of their lives. Stiles asked if Boyd and Erica were a “thing”, noticing how close the twosome were as they pet the llama at the petting zoo, and Derek explained how they were all waiting for them to be.

Over the course of the afternoon, Derek was able to introduce Stiles to his Pack—who thankfully waited until the human's back was turned before making any faces or mouthing inappropriate words—and he was able to meet the guy's father when the police chief got off work. And in between, games were played and junk was eaten and the hours fell away unnoticed, until they both realized that people were starting to close up shop—in some cases literally. An awkward silence fell over them for the first time that day and Derek knew that for him personally, it was because he didn't want to say goodbye, didn't want to let Stiles go, didn't know how to say all that without sounding like a total fucking creep.

In the end, it was Stiles' dad who broke them up, calling out for his son so they could head home. Derek took solace in the fact that Stiles was reluctant in his goodbye, dragging himself a few feet before suddenly stopping and turning back to the older man.

“Can I get your number?”

Holy shit, Stiles had just asked for his number.

And holy shit, Derek most definitely didn't have one.

A sheepish grin formed on his face and he scratched at his jaw as his shoulders bunched up in a wince. “I, uh. Don't have a phone.”

“Oh.” Stiles' face fell, disappointment coloring his scent, before everything about him brightened up once more. “Guess you'll just have to stop by the Coffee Cat tomorrow so I can see you again.” With that, he waved cheerfully, then jogged off to catch up with his dad, leaving Derek standing there stunned as he stared after him.

It wasn't a date, no matter what the Wolf told himself. But the fluttering in his stomach and pounding in his chest made it feel exactly like that.

The Pack reunited then set off for the Food Lion in the strip mall near the motel to grab groceries, figuring they might as well since they'd be staying a while. They stocked up on bread, lunch meat and cheeses, bags of snack foods, Pop Tarts, cereal, damn near everything Little Debbie made, and countless other goodies that a kid would dream of buying if they were in charge of the shopping.

As they all stood in the ice-cream aisle, checking out various selections, Erica made her way to Derek, smirking up at him as she stood on his right. The scent of self-satisfaction was rolling off her in waves and Derek leveled a scowl down at her, hating how she kept grinning, unimpressed and unintimidated.

“So,” she began then paused, scent turning more salacious, and he knew he wasn't gonna like what was about to come out of her mouth. “You and Stiles, huh? You gonna, uh.” She nudged him with her elbow twice, winked and clicked her tongue, then took both pointer fingers and touched them together to no doubt symbolize something x-rated. Given the way she mouthed the words “touch boners”, he was right in his assessment.

He'd also been right about not liking what she was gonna say but that was beginning to be par for the course with Erica.

Refusing to say anything, he turned his body so he was out of her line of sight and shot a significant look down the aisle, clearly aimed at Boyd, who was busy checking out a pint of something. Once he was sure he'd made his point, Derek returned his focus to Erica, raising a pointed eyebrow. “Are you?”

He'd never seen Erica get so quiet so fast since he'd met her.

Derek stopped by the Coffee Cat the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that as well.

To the point where it was pretty much routine for him to wake up, go for a run with whomever decided to drag their asses out of bed, shower, head into town with the whole Pack, eat at Lou's, then head across the street to loiter in the cafe and spend time with Stiles. The Betas joined him in the shop most times, taking over the section of couches and armchairs in the back corner, and when it was slow, Stiles would join them. It was scary how easily he fit in, how much it felt like he'd been a part of their group since the beginning. Derek wondered if it was just because he happened to be around the same age as the Betas, or if it was some sort of cosmic thing at work, sending Derek the perfect match not just for him, but for his Pack as a whole.

Because the Alpha had stopped fighting any internal arguments about how he shouldn't feel such a strong connection to the guy after only having just met him and stopped trying to convince himself he was mistaking a mere physical attraction with something deeper. He'd spent nights awake in bed, remembering the stories his mom told him about Mates, his dad told him about the human equivalent of Soul Mates and “The One”. That instantaneous attraction, that spark, that something that settled inside you and screamed “yes, this one, this is the one, they're it for you!” For humans, it took longer, something that developed over time, which was what held Derek back from making any sort of move.

Well, that, plus the guy was a couple months shy of eighteen, still in high school, and had a cop for a dad.

Not to mention the fact that Derek was a Werewolf with a future that was still up in the air.

Yet despite all that, Derek still found himself falling for this random small town barista more and more each time he was around Stiles. It just felt inevitable, like rushing water hurtling towards a fall and all he could do was brace for impact, unable to fight against the strong currents.

Not that he even wanted to fight against it.

Still, he kept all of it to himself—or at least didn't tell Stiles any of it, having spent one evening in Boyd and Erica's now shared room crying into a pint of ice cream as he bemoaned how pretty Stiles was and how unfair he was to Derek's poor heart, all because the barista had given him a hug goodbye. He'd fucked with Fate enough, trying to have Paige get the Bite and wind up dead, screwing around with Kate and losing his family. Love never seemed to end well for him, another thing he confided in his blonde Beta, and the last thing he wanted was for his own need to be loved end in more bloodshed.

Erica had called him an overdramatic bitch for it but he didn't care. He'd made a damn good point and he knew it, even if she didn't seem to see things his way.

As the days wore on and the deadline for their possible leaving approached, Derek found himself scrutinizing his Pack even more, noting how they seemed to flourish and settle in to life in the small town. They were regulars at Lou's now, Ruth Ann already heading to their booth to fill up four mugs of coffee as soon as they walked in the door and Isaac got chummy with the cook Pete and the owner, Lou himself. Erica had befriended the owner of the consignment shop, even spending an afternoon helping her check out new items and price them and Boyd helped her move some of the heavier items in her stock. Cora had found a nearby YMCA where they were all able to work out, swim, and play basketball. And Derek was coming to be on good terms with Stiles' dad, John, who reminded the Alpha of his own father so much it damn near hurt.

When Friday evening rolled around, they held a Pack meeting in Derek's room and it was barely five minutes later when they all decided that they wanted to stay in Oak Creek.

The next day, Derek jogged alone, the Pack deciding to sleep in after a late night of discussing plans and figuring things out. This time, he added the downtown area as part of his routine, waving to Ruth Ann and Lou as they opened the diner for the day and grabbing a real estate guidebook from the free dispenser on the sidewalk. He made a mental note to talk to the manager of the motel about extending their stay, figuring there shouldn't be too much of an issue, considering they were currently the only patrons there so there wasn't a whole lot of demand for their rooms. He even halfway considered asking Cora and Isaac if they wanted to split up and get space of their own. Neither of them had really compared about having to share, but that didn't mean they weren't annoyed by it and only kept quiet because they knew it was necessary and only temporary.

Then again, it was hopefully still only temporary. The motel wasn't built for extended stays and the fact that they'd been allowed to book their rooms through the end of the week had been a gift in and of itself. It was only a matter of finding a house big enough for the five of them that he'd be able to pay for outright without having to get any banks involved, credit checked, or background run.

Not that there would be any problems should anyone dig into his past. But part of him was still a little paranoid and he didn't think that would go away any time soon, not with his being a Werewolf and Hunters always wanting him dead solely for existing.

Not to mention the Alpha Pack.

No, he'd prefer to get through the whole home buying process with as little trouble and invasion as possible, both because it was faster and also because he didn't want anyone looking at him too closely.

Part of him hoped that whatever real estate agent was selling whatever house the Pack agreed on would be fine with getting a lump sum of cash rather than a bank loan and thirty year mortgage. As much as they had all agreed to stay there, there was no real guarantee that it would be as permanent a stay as they hoped. Laura and Derek had had that same plan in Brooklyn and that had turned out to be for naught.

The sounds of snoring and steady heartbeats at rest came from both of his Pack's room, four Wolves still fast asleep, and Derek let himself relax as he headed for the shower. It was barely seven am, but already the air outside was muggy, humid, a sign of what was to come that day. Combined with the run and he was in desperate need of washing off.

Derek cleaned himself with purely economical movements, dried off in a perfunctory fashion, then wrapped the towel around his waist. Next he set about grabbing clothes from his duffel, thinking about the last time the Pack had been able to make a laundry stop, if they should go ahead and hit the laundromat downtown just in case. His skin tingled with anticipation, with the rush that came with actually having plans for the first time in months. The entire trip had been spontaneous, each day spent on a whim and things done without any forethought. Now, he had things to actually take care of, to think about, a to-do list that was writing itself in his mind as he rifled through his luggage for a pair of clean underwear and coming up empty.

Wait, no, that was a pair.

Dirty.

Shit. Maybe hitting the laundromat should go to the top of the list, meaning it needed to happen that damn day. Clean undies and clothes seemed a lot more pressing and important than house-hunting, especially considering the fact that they had a roof over their heads at that point.

A knock on the door sounded out and lifted his head to frown at it, stretching his hearing. Shit, he was getting sloppy, too relaxed and careless. He hadn't noticed anyone coming up to his room.

He knew it wasn't his Pack, even after checking the sounds coming from the rooms on either side of him, Boyd and Erica seemingly still asleep, one asleep in Isaac and Cora's room as the other hit the shower themselves. None of them were knocking, a fact he already knew given that there was a knock in the first place. All four had a habit of just inviting themselves in, taking advantage of the fact that the motel room doors had to be locked manually. He wasn't in the habit of doing that though, not wanting anything to slow him down or hinder him should something happen and he need to leave in a rush.

Like if an unknown person knocked at his door and he would need to escape in case they posed a threat.

Shit. That was his only escape.

This place really wasn't made for emergencies.

Moving with complete silence, Derek slowly approached the door, taking in the heartbeat on the other side, rapid with anxiety. The scent was ripe with that same emotion, as well as...

A now familiar blend of maple syrup, warm coffee, and fresh linens. A lazy Sunday morning wrapped up in a scent.

Stiles.

Derek felt his own heart start racing and he lengthened his stride in order to reach the door faster, not bothering to peek through the peephole to double-check his nose and his ears. Instead, he threw it open to find Stiles waiting there, dressed in his usual khaki shorts and graphic tee—this one a faded black with an 8-bit image of the Ghostbusters car chasing the ghosts from Pac-Man. The human jolted, startled at the sudden way the door had been opened, smile soon forming on his face that disappeared as his eyes dropped.

As well as his jaw.

Right. Because Derek was still in a towel, holding a pair of boxer-briefs, hair probably completely mussed up after giving it a quick rub over with a different towel.

Stiles' cheeks grew rosy, scent blossoming with arousal, eyes half-lidded as they drifted further and further down. Derek gave a quick peek at himself, feeling proud that the work he'd managed to put in while on the road meant he was still in good shape, muscles still defined and body still tuned up. And apparently Stiles enjoyed the sight of it, too, tongue darting out to lick his lips and breathing getting a little shakier.

Not to mention the twitch Derek's eyes managed to catch happening in the human's shorts.

The Alpha couldn't help but puff up his chest in pride, resisting the urge to fully flex and show off his arms, show that he was strong enough to be a good provider and take care of Stiles. He wasn't cocky, not anymore, not since high school, but the way Stiles was looking him over made him feel a little bit like that overly-confident kid he'd once been.

As if suddenly aware of what he was doing, Stiles snapped his eyes up to Derek's face, embarrassment flooding his scent, and the older man had to hide his smirk by pressing his lips together. Growing up in a family of Werewolves, with his mother able to fully shift, secrets weren't ever really a thing and nudity was nothing to be ashamed of. Showers were walked in on, clothes stripped off to skinny dip in lakes with others. The only thing that stopped them from walking in on more intimate moments—whether alone or with a partner—was a keen sense of hearing and smelling and Derek still couldn't think of the time he realized what the buzzing coming from a teenaged Laura's room was without shuddering.

So for Stiles to gaze at him so unabashedly, it was nothing for Derek to feel embarrassed about and he honestly thought the human shouldn't feel bad about it either. There was no shame in enjoying things, a fact Derek was coming to learn since leaving Beacon Hills, and if it were up to him, he'd whip off the towel and let Stiles look his fill—touch his fill, too.

Except Stiles was still technically jailbait and Derek should probably get dressed in case a cop happened to roll by and report it to their boss—aka Stiles' dad.

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized and Derek shrugged, not seeing any reason for him to need to. The young man cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets as the nerves came back to his scent and Derek so wanted to rewind it a minute or two, back to when his scent was heady and tinged with the spice of arousal.

Where was a Delorean when it was needed?

He tossed his underwear onto the bed behind him then casually leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms and putting his biceps on display. Kind of a dick move to show off like that, to try and tempt Stiles into staring—or possibly do more—considering his own previous thoughts about how the guy was off-limits, but...

But his instincts were still at play and still demanding that he show off what a good provider he'd be, a good protector. Probably an Alpha thing, he figured, wanting to show off to this new person that he could take care of them if they joined his Pack. Pointless really, considering Stiles was a human, a clueless human at that, completely unaware of the fact that he was currently standing outside the temporary Den of a Werewolf.

Derek almost felt sorry for him. He also felt glad that Stiles had no idea. Meant he and his Pack were safe.

Then again, Stiles managed to find where they were...

Not much a challenge really. Stiles was aware they were visitors and there was only one place in the entire town to stay, which was exactly where they were.

Still safe.

Still didn't explain why the human had tracked them down in the first place though. So far, most of their interactions had taken place in the Coffee Cat, a couple times in Lou's Diner, once at that street fair. Derek knew if he wanted to see the guy, he could just head downtown and hope he was working. Neither one of them had gone to the other's residence, temporary or not.

He kept the friendly smile on his face, finding it strange that he was actually bothering being cordial, since he hadn't really given a fuck about manners since the fire. Granted he'd tried his best to be nice enough to recruit Erica, Isaac, and Boyd into his Pack, but other than that, he didn't give a fuck about niceties.

Another thing that had changed about him since leaving Beacon Hills, he figured.

“What can I help you with?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “Not that I don't mind the unexpected drop-by. Just wondering.”

Stiles' eyes went wide momentarily, as though the question had completely thrown him and he'd totally forgotten why he was there in the first place. Was almost comical and Derek pressed his lips into a hard line again, this time to hold back any chuckle. “Oh, shit. Right. Yeah.” Stiles cleared his throat then began tapping his thumb against his fist in a nervous habit, the emotion leaking into his scent and turning it bitter. “I, uh, was gonna head into the city and hit up the mall. I was kinda wondering if you wanted to come with?”

“Like a date?” Erica commented from the next room and Derek kept his features flat, having a feeling that only he was able to hear it. The motel room walls were thin, yes, but with his Werewolf hearing, it was as though she'd spoken it from just behind him. More than likely, Stiles would've only heard a muffled voice, unable to make out the words.

Derek would chew Erica out later for eavesdropping. And for the insinuation that it was a date.

Because it wasn't.

He was pretty sure.

Shit, he had no fucking clue if it was a date or not. Did it count as a date? He was so out of practice with the whole thing, his only two relationships ending in ultimate disaster and even then, it was just teenaged puppy love with fast food and movies and make-out sessions when they broke her parent's rule of keeping the door open, it was just sex in secret in a hotel room or the backseat of her car as they hid it from everyone and Derek tried to rid himself of the pain through getting laid.

Now...

Now, this was different. He was an adult now, with feelings that reached down deeper than what he'd experienced before, even after such a short amount of time. He was clueless on what a real date was, what it contained, what happened during it. He was at a complete and total loss about all of it and had no one he could really turn to for advice.

Chances were he was overreacting, letting Erica's dumbass comment get into his head too much and take shit too far. Not a date, just two friends hanging out, as friends were apt to do.

Two friends hanging out alone, with no Pack looming over them, listening in, nosy and in need of good material to rib him about.

Just him and Stiles.

In another town where no one would know them, no one would be aware than he was only seventeen and the son of the police chief who would find out about this.

Oh. Fuck.

“You don't have to,” Stiles added on after a moment of silence, Derek spending too much time in his head as his thoughts swirled and spiraled and blew out of proportion. “I just. I like hanging out with you and I thought maybe we could—”

“I wanna go,” he blurted out, interrupting, making the human jolt slightly before a wide grin spread across his face, creasing his eyes.

“Okay. Cool, yeah, okay.” He let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck endearingly. “I'll, uh, let you get dressed then?”

Derek was confused for half a moment before remembering...he was still in a goddamn towel. Shit. Right, yeah.

A self-deprecating laugh blew out his nose and he felt his ears heat up, the flush spreading as he heard Erica wolf-whistle in the next room and Cora muttering a “fuck's sake” from the other side of him, Isaac seconding the sentiment.

He was gonna strangle them all.

Stiles nodded, eyes darting down for one last look as he backed away, pointing behind him with his thumb at a battered old baby blue Jeep parked beside the Bee. “I'll, uh. Just wait in here.”

“Sounds good.” He gave another smile before shutting his door and roughing his face with his hands, unable to believe how his life was turning out.

“Get some, Alpha!” Erica commented once again.

“Might help get the stick out your ass,” Cora added.

“Derek seems more like a top to me,” Isaac argued, Boyd groaning at the TMI of the assessment.

Derek was gonna kill them all. Except maybe Boyd.

“The City” was a half hour drive east of Oak Creek, accessible through either a highway or interstate, depending on which part of the city one wanted to get to. The Jeep Clunker—CJ-5, Stiles argued, extremely defensive of his vehicle—had a non-functioning radio, as well as AC, so they rode with the windows down, shouting to be heard over the rushing air as they headed down the highway. Stiles explained how the Jeep had once been his mom's until she died, his dad maintaining it as best he could until Stiles was old enough to drive, knowing that she had wanted him to have it. Derek confessed to having a Camaro in storage in California and that the Bee had been purchased solely for their trip, roomy enough for all of them and their stuff without being a fucking minivan, a fact that had Stiles laughing.

“We're staying in Oak Creek,” Derek informed him about halfway there and Stiles failed at hiding his grin, trying to play it off with a nonchalant “cool”. Derek hated the air blowing in the Jeep because he couldn't scent Stiles, couldn't decipher his true emotions, having to rely on physical clues only.

Annoying.

The rest of the drive was spent discussing plans, at least the parts that Derek and his Pack had already decided on, already knew about, things that Derek could actually share. He talked about needing to find a house, then furniture, and Stiles asked how he was able to afford any of it. The Werewolf admitted to an inheritance and left it at that, vague references to smart investments and life insurance, not even so much as hinting at the fact that he was technically a multimillionaire. It would create too many questions and give away too much shit he was trying to hide.

The mall itself was nothing special, unremarkable and typical of most malls. Two floors, half a mile long from end to end, featuring the usual department stores and chains. They grabbed Cinnabon for breakfast, getting cinnamon rolls the size of their heads, easily devoured thanks to Stiles' teenaged metabolism and Derek's Werewolf one. They meandered about, no real destination in mind, popping into whatever store looked interesting enough to bother with, their pace slow and more than likely annoying those who had come to the mall on a mission and were in a rush to get to that specific place for that specific item.

Derek stopped in the Verizon store and spent an hour getting smartphones for each member of the Pack, plus himself, getting them all set-up and activated and put on one of those unlimited gigs plans. Chances were the teenagers he was in charge with would blow through data like it was air, time wasted on various apps and social media.

Part of him wondered how social media would even work, considering they were technically in hiding, but he figured that was a worry for another day. At that moment, he was strangely relieved to know that each of them would have something that would allow him to locate them easily without having to howl and throw the whole town in a major state of confusion.

Having a phone for himself wasn't something he ever thought he'd do and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. Until Stiles grinned at him and snatched it out his hands, programming his own information in.

“I expect daily texts, even over stupid shit. And trust me when I say that I'm gonna be bothering the fuck outta you when shit's slow at work.”

Derek snorted, lips curling at one side. “It's always slow at work.”

Stiles' smile grew wider. “Exactly.”

Lunch was fast food from the food court, the afternoon wasted at the arcade, where Derek kicked Stiles' ass at the skill games then got his own ass kicked at video games. He managed to win enough tickets for a stuffed monkey with velcro paws that he gave to Stiles, the younger man giving him a weird squished troll type thing with fluffy hair and an ugly kissing face. He slipped it in his pocket for safe keeping, hating how wildly out of control his heart was, but glad that the brunet was human and had no idea just how much the little gift meant to him.

Then again, considering how hot his ears felt, maybe the reaction wasn't as hidden as he wanted it to be.

They managed to grab a table at the T.G.I.Friday's located by one of the mall entrances and Derek indulged in a beer, knowing it would be burned off before they even pulled out the parking lot, knowing he could hide that fact given he wasn't driving. Stiles stole a swig and he shoved at the guy's head.

Driving back to Oak Creek, things were silent, comfortable in a way that only came when you were totally at peace with the person you were with. Derek ruminated on the fact that the entire day had been that way, not silent but comfortable, normal, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything remotely close to that. Not since high school, not since Paige, he realized, turning his head to watch Stiles as he drove. There were similarities there, Derek noted. Both put him at peace, centered him, made him feel okay with his world and what he was. Both were smart as fuck, witty, unafraid to put him in his place. Both made him realize he'd been lacking before, helping him find those missing pieces. Both gave him a sense of home.

It was then that Derek realized that he didn't give a fuck about Oak Creek, not entirely. Yeah, the tiny town was nice and full of friendly people that he enjoyed seeing on a daily basis. Yeah, it offered him a good opportunity to settle and have a real life, one where he wasn't constantly looking over his shoulder in fear for his life. Yeah, it was a place he'd dreamt about staying in while in the busy cacophony that was New York.

But it was Stiles that made it a place worth staying. The guy could live damn near anywhere, including that godforsaken Beacon Hills, and Derek would stay with him, come back to him.

It was scary and peaceful at the same time and he clenched his fist in his lap so he wouldn't give in to the temptation of trying to hold Stiles', of trying to touch him in some way. One day, he knew. Just not that one. It felt flawless enough already just for having been spent with Stiles.

The Pack pounced on him for gossip about his day the second he returned to the motel but Derek managed to distract them with new phones, officially cementing his status as Best Alpha Fucking Ever—according to Erica at least.

Breakfast the next day was at Lou's, as always, and Isaac officially got a job as a busboy and cook-in-training, Cora hired on as a waitress. Erica was able to get hired on at the consignment shop and Boyd put in an application at the local Wal-Mart. Derek spent the day loitering at the Coffee Cat as Stiles worked, getting a lesson in how to work his smartphone during lulls, house-hunting in the booklet he'd grabbed when the human was busy. By the end of the day, he'd found a four bedroom house right on the outskirts of town that would work for them and had a viewing appointment set-up.

That evening, the Pack drove out to it, barely five minutes from the downtown area, perfectly walkable for all the Wolves. It was unoccupied, ready to be moved into, no real issues despite the age of the two-story house. Three bedrooms and two baths were upstairs, the master and its own bathroom on the main floor near the front door. A living room, a den, large kitchen, and dining room completed it, a detached shed to the side of the gravel driveway, a large yard surrounded by trees as it sat on three acres of private property. It was big enough for all five of them, secluded enough to put the Alpha at peace, and had space for the Pack during full moons.

After getting a tour from the real estate agent in charge, the Pack all exchanged looks and Derek put in a cash offer before they left.

Mere days later, he was picking up the keys to the property and the five of them had cleaned out their motel rooms in order to move in. The next couple days were spent settling in, finding furniture at the consignment shop, a few pieces at Wal-Mart, other necessities ordered online. By the end of the week, every room was furnished, the kitchen stocked with food and dishware and cutlery, the fridge covered with the magnets Erica had collected on their road trip, and they had put up their first picture: a photo Stiles had taken of the Pack outside their new home.

Time passed, summer threatening to melt them, before it turned into autumn. The weather was unsure what season it was as the high temps wavered between eighties and sixties from day to day, yet the humidity still hung around, clinging to the air with everything it had and refusing to let go. Stiles started his senior year at the local high school, the Pack studying to get their GEDs online instead, knowing they couldn't sign-up to attend the school since they'd need their transcripts transferred over and it would alert all back home to where they were.

Big problem.

Stiles seemed especially curious about that—as well as a little bummed out that he wouldn't have his new friends there by him as he suffered through school every day—and asked why. The Pack tried to get around it with their usual lie about running from a less than ideal situation, but after having been in town for close to two months at that point, the human had bonded with each and every one of them, meaning any respectful distance he had for strangers was gone.

Isaac was the one who came to the rescue with that one, describing his abuse in detail. Boyd added a few things of his own, a more emotional kind of abuse suffered at the hands of his parents. Derek had Stiles swear to secrecy, knowing the Pack were all minors and that he had no legal right to take any of them across state lines—except for his sister, considering he was the only member of their immediate family left, and being over eighteen meant he was her guardian—but there was no way he could explain that human laws were bullshit to them, that as their Alpha, he was guardian and could take them should he please. And after explaining that Boyd and Erica had already planned to run before he'd decided to join them, his old town holding nothing for him anymore, Stiles agreed.

That night, the Pack made s'mores in a newly constructed firepit in the backyard, discussing how far they'd come, both literally and metaphorically, and how they had Derek to thank. Erica pointed out once more that if it hadn't been for him stepping in and taking them out of Beacon Hills, chances were she and Boyd would've been killed already. Isaac agreed and Cora gave him a proud smile she tried to hide behind a mug of cocoa.

The next day, he drove the teens to a used car lot the next town over and bought a sedan and a pick-up for them to share and use whenever. He also started letting them drive around back roads with himself in the passenger seat, fulfilling the promise of teaching them how.

The house became a home, the Pack a family, with Stiles blending in just as seamlessly as the others had. He would come over after school when he didn't have work, hanging out, playing video games with the guys or doing facemasks with Erica or learning to fight with Cora. He also spent a lot of time around Derek, their interactions growing increasingly flirtatious, the human constantly smelling of a low-level of desire and arousal every time he was near the Alpha. Derek took it as a compliment and also knew that he himself probably smelled the same way to his Pack, the assholes teasing him behind Stiles' back or when the object of his affection was gone.

They also teased them both right in front of their faces, catcalls and demands to get a room growing in frequency.

Yet Derek didn't make a move, and not just because of the fact that Stiles was underage—which, Erica decided, didn't count as a good argument because the age of consent in North Carolina was sixteen, but Derek wasn't taking any chances. Derek had lost his virginity before he'd turned eighteen and regretted it and he didn't wanna do that to Stiles. Especially considering the fact that Derek was hiding some very major shit about himself from the human.

Like the fact that he himself wasn't human.

With each day that passed, Derek became more and more convinced that he should tell Stiles about himself, should tell Stiles who it was he was falling for and spending time with. But it wasn't just his decision to make. Telling the guy about the existence of the Supernatural and how he was a Werewolf meant exposing the entire Pack, putting them at risk for losing their friend. None of them had made any complaints about having to hide that part of themselves, all understood what could possibly happen if they let it be known what they were, and none had made any requests to tell anyone outside of their Pack. Their bosses were clueless, the townspeople, Stiles and his father. Derek didn't know if they wanted to change that in any way, had never asked, had never been asked.

Probably time to change that, Derek decided as he parked the Bee in the gravel driveway outside the house after having checked out the local community college, finding the Jeep off to the side and Isaac sitting on the front stoop. He approached with a raised eyebrow, taking in the fact that he was dressed solely in a pair of old basketball shorts, no shirt, and the frisbee he was spinning in his hand.

“I regret to inform you that the straights are at it again,” Isaac stated with a disgusted look and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Are you gonna say that every time Boyd and Erica fuck?”

He grinned at that. “Probably.”

Another eye roll as Derek folded his arms, standing before his Beta. “What's with the frisbee then?”

Isaac looked down at it, like he'd forgotten he was spinning it in his fingers. “Oh. Me and Stiles are playing, but he had to take a leak so he headed inside. Reckoned he'd have no problem with it since he can't smell or hear what's happening upstairs.”

Derek seesawed his head, figuring he had a point, amused at the southern word that had slipped into his vocabulary. Since they'd settled in Oak Creek, there'd been an increase in the amount of “y'all”s that were spoken by the Pack, not to mention a bunch of other terms that they'd honestly never heard of before leaving California.

Crazy shit really.

“Wanna join in?” Isaac offered, smirking and bobbing his eyebrows. Little shit.

Derek shoved his head as he ascended the steps and moved past him. “Lemme get changed.”

The screen door closed on Isaac's laugh and Derek caught the scents of not just his Packmates, but also lust, annoyance, and enjoyment. He also found Stiles' scent intermingled with it all, seeming perfectly right when mixed with everyone else's, trailing towards Derek's bedroom to the right of the living room. He might not have been able to smell it, but Stiles was still very much aware what was happening upstairs, meaning he was using Derek's bathroom on the first floor to relieve himself.

No biggie. Wasn't like Derek had anything to hide really. At least he was pretty sure he didn't.

No, he definitely didn't. According to Erica, he was the most boring person ever.

Which was perfectly fine for Derek. Considering how his adolescence went and his time in Beacon Hills upon returning, he was perfectly fine with boring. It fit him like a well-tailored suit.

His worries abated, Derek made his way to his room, mind going over what he needed to do. Phone needed charging since he hadn't done it the day before, put his wallet and keys up, change out these jeans into something more comfortable. Probably ditch his own shirt, too, now that he was thinking about it. Early September was still hot in the south, still muggy, and he could feel the impending storm prickling his skin.

Plus, if he was being perfectly honest, he wanted to show off in front of Stiles again. He knew he was being obvious, but he didn't care. He enjoyed the human's reaction to seeing his bare torso a little too much, loved the way his scent lit up and grew stronger, that maple syrup and warm coffee smell laced with the spice of arousal and want. It was intoxicating.

A smirk pulled up one corner of his lips as he opened his bedroom door, wondering if Stiles was still in the bathroom and if he could get away with quickly stripping and allowing himself to get “caught” changing. His Werewolf speed could certainly help him pull it off.

Or not, he realized, stepping in his room and finding Stiles standing over by the desk he had opposite his bed. Derek froze, stunned by the sight of him, cock reacting first as he took in the flush on his cheeks, the sheen of sweat over his skin, cotton shorts clinging to a nice round ass, his hair mussed up.

But his scent...

His scent was strong thanks to the sweat, but was also laced with anxiety and fear, bitter and salty and unpleasant to the Werewolf's sensitive sense of smell. His nose crinkled on automatic, his guard having dropped due to surprise at seeing Stiles over by his desk, and he didn't even think about why his reaction was a problem.

Mainly because he was too distracted by what was currently on his desk,

The Hale Bestiary.

Shit.

Stiles' head had snapped around to him when the door had opened, eyes wide and jaw hanging. He raised a shaky hand and pointed at the book that Derek had left out after having looked through it the night before, as he had every night since moving into the house, learning what he could so he could be on the look-out for any threats in their new town. He honestly hadn't expected anyone to be in his room, to find it sitting there splayed open. His Pack knew better than to go into an Alpha's room uninvited, instincts warning them away. But a human... a human wouldn't know the danger. Stiles wouldn't think twice about just going in, probably more in a rush to pee than anything else.

And now that his bladder had been emptied—presumably anyway—his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd snooped in the open book on the desk, taking in information about Kitsunes, just as Derek had the previous night.

“Tell me this is, like, a fictional reference book or just a collection of folklore from around the world,” Stiles requested, voice raspy and eyes pleading. “Tell me you secretly write Supernatural fanfiction in your spare time and that's why you have this. Or maybe you're just one of those guys who has a thing for paranormal shit and it's all in good fun, total hobby shit.”

Derek swallowed hard, hands hanging loose and useless by his side. He wanted to, fuck him but he wanted to, so badly. There was nothing else he felt like saying to Stiles than exactly what he wanted to hear. That yes, it was a hobby, that his mom had been into it and that was her book of folklore she'd inherited and added to, an old family heirloom from back when people took that shit seriously, but they all knew better.

But he couldn't.

His throat got tight at the thought of the lie coming out, preventing the words from escaping. He couldn't lie to Stiles, could no longer hide the truth. He'd told himself for so long that omitting that part of him was for the best, that he was protecting the human, and that it wasn't wrong to do, since he had no clue who Stiles was or how he'd react. He told himself that because Stiles hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, because Stiles hadn't asked or confronted him about anything, it was okay to keep it to himself.

Only now, Stiles was asking and confronting and it was no longer okay to hide any of it. Not when it was right there in front of them both.

“Der?” Stiles prompted, voice shaky and Derek's chest clenched tight at the pain in that single syllable.

“I can't,” he managed to choke out, his own eyes turning down at the corners as he begged the younger man to understand, as his vision grew wavy with the fear that this was it, Stiles was gonna run out and never wanna see him again, he was gonna tell his dad the new people in town were monsters that should be dealt with using firearms, he was gonna lead a lynch mob and Derek would once again lose his Pack in a fiery blaze.

Stiles' jaw clamped shut and he turned his head away, unable to look at Derek. His leg was shaky, lips pressed hard together, and his scent was colored with nerves and upset and confusion and a million other things the Werewolf had a hard time deciphering. “So,” he began, watery, weak, and he cleared his throat. “What're ya then? Because I flipped through this thing and I've been thinkin' back over everythin' since I've met y'all and shit ain't addin' up.” His southern drawl was stronger, more prominent, a sure sign he was upset, and Derek felt each twang like a stab in the heart.

“Werewolves,” he admitted in a harsh whisper. “Me and my sister were both born as Wolves and I inherited the Alpha power from my uncle when I killed him. I gave the Bite to Isaac, Erica, and Boyd and we formed a Pack. We left Beacon Hills because an old family of Hunters were trying to kill us and the Alpha Pack was threatening to show up and take us out as well.”

Stiles nodded almost absently and Derek wondered if he even heard any of it, if any of the information even registered with him. “You killed your uncle?”

Derek swallowed hard once more, hating the flat tone of his voice. “It's a long story.”

Hard eyes were turned on him then, fierce and determined, and Derek knew then that the human was a fighter, that if it came down to it, he'd battle even the Supernatural with all he had. “Tell it.”

And so he did, registering in the back of his mind Boyd and Erica sneaking out of the house, heading into the woods with Isaac to give them privacy. He told Stiles all about his family and their deaths in a fire set by Hunters. He told about his older sister and moving to New York, the return to Beacon Hills, his uncle's psychotic break as he murdered his niece and Derek in turn killing him. He told about Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Allison, the Argents, why he chose his three Betas, his uncle's resurrection. He told about the real reasons for leaving Beacon Hills, meeting back up with Cora and how it'd felt like a miracle, the first good thing to happen to him in a long time. And finally he told about Oak Creek, about how he was attracted to Stiles from the very first moment he set eyes on him in Lou's and how he inspired the Alpha to wanna stay here and make it home.

The entire time, Stiles was silent, sitting on the edge of Derek's bed with his fingers tangling between his knees. His face was flat for the most part, brows raising at the parts regarding Peter's murderous rampage and himself. When the story was wrapped up, he nodded absently, wringing the back of his neck before he rose to his feet.

“I, uh. I think I'm gonna need some time to, to think this shit over, let it all sink in,” he stated lowly and Derek felt his eyes well up with tears once more, his voice thick as he gave a low “okay”. He couldn't really blame the guy. It was a lot of information dumped on him at once, even without the fact that his entire world had been thrown upside down with the new information regarding Supernatural creatures being real.

Not to mention the fact that the man he was attracted to was one of them.

Part of Derek felt guilty that he had kept quiet about Paige and Kate, but he hadn't wanted to scare Stiles off. Now that seemed stupid, now it seemed like he was gonna scare him off and lose him anyway. Already Derek could feel him pulling away, distancing himself, shutting down.

Fuck.

He moved out the way of the door when it seemed clear he was heading for it, not trying to stop him, not wanting to add to his fear. Yes, Derek had taken his uncle's life—as temporary as it had been—yes, he was responsible for Paige's death and those of his family, but he wasn't a killer, not really. His eyes may have been blue yet he knew it was out of saving Paige in a sense, ending her pain.

He refused to cause any for Stiles in the first place. At least, not more than he already had at that moment.

He stood in place as the screen door opened then shut, as the Jeep started up and pulled away, as his Pack slowly returned when they figured it was safe to do so. Stiles wanted distance to think things over, wanted space and time, had made no indication that it was permanent or that he wanted the Pack to leave.

Yet Derek felt as though his entire world was falling apart and he'd been broken all over again. It wasn't the entire Pack that he was losing, just one unofficial member, but it stung just as much as losing his family had.

A week passed with no word from Stiles.

Derek did as was requested and left him be, didn't text or call or even stop by Coffee Cat. He avoided going downtown completely in fact, not wanting to risk running into the human and coming across as a stalker.

He explained everything that happened to the rest of the Pack the night it happened, apologizing profusely for ruining things with their friend. His Betas all argued that it wasn't his fault, shouldering some of the blame for not suggesting they tell him the truth earlier, all admitting they were enjoying just being teenagers, free from fear or responsibilities or hatred. Derek accepted their words solely to appease them but still felt as though it was entirely his mistake, especially when he found them moping about the house bored.

They all distracted themselves as best they could though. Isaac was the first to earn his permit, not needing as much practice due to his old grave-digging job and experience with tractors, Cora following, then Boyd a couple days later. Erica was last and only barely passed her in-car assessment, having a bad habit of gunning it when lights turned green. Derek took them to the mall at the weekend to celebrate with some time in the arcade, pushing aside memories of the last time he was there, the Pack eating dinner at the Olive Garden located in the same parking lot and hitting up the movies for an action flick they all thought looked interesting.

Time seemed to go by slower than ever, each hour another slash across his back. Derek tried distracting himself during the day with yardwork and maintenance, laying a patio that led to the firepit and around it, building backyard furniture piece by piece, thinking back to when his carpenter dad had taught him these things. Boyd helped out on occasion, Erica loitered in the shed turned workshop solely to annoy him, Isaac watched him in much the same way Derek used to with his old man, Cora helped sand and stain as they reminisced over their shared childhood.

But at night, Derek was alone, with nothing but his thoughts. He rehashed that fateful conversation with Stiles, wondering if there was anything he could've said differently or added on to produce a different outcome, always coming up empty. No matter what he would've done or when he would've done it, chances were Stiles would still ask for time and space to take it all in and reorient himself. His entire world had shifted on its axis, was spinning in a different direction. It would be more alarming if he didn't need to think it over.

Storms passed, days stretched by, the full moon spent in the woods more melancholic than ever. His Betas were all more centered and in control now so the night went by without any incident, something that made Derek proud and disappointed over, mainly because he would've preferred the distraction of having to wrangle out of control shifted teenagers. Instead, he spent most of the time on his ass against a tree, moping and hurting.

Pathetic but that's how it was.

His Pack had work the next day and Derek decided to live up to every stereotype surrounding unemployed rich assholes by laying around in bed. He had nothing to do, not really, nowhere to go now that Stiles wanted space. Part of him recognized the fact that he should honestly get used to this, to not having Stiles in his life. The more time that passed, the more likely it seemed that the human was never coming back. The last time he'd seen him would be the last time he would ever see him.

He rubbed at his chest as he lay sprawled on his bed, staring unseeing at the ceiling. A goodbye text would've been nice, a “Dear John” letter stuck in the mailbox, something that would further cement the belief that it was over and act as the final coffin nail.

Limbo fucking sucked.

The sound of a rumbling engine and crunching gravel pricked his ears and he sat upright, heart racing in his chest. None of his Betas were allowed to drive and tended to walk home—except when it was raining and they managed to get a ride from a coworker. And only one vehicle rattled the way that one did, engine loud as though it was screaming its arrival everywhere it went.

That Jeep Clunker.

Derek kicked his sheets back and raced out the room, slamming into his door before he managed to open it and stumble out. He had lost all chill, he knew, probably looked desperate as fuck and even more pathetic than he'd already felt, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that Stiles was there, Stiles was pulling up, Stiles was breaking the silence and closing the distance and...

And... Derek didn't know what. There was the possibility that the young man was showing up to officially and permanently end things in person, that he didn't believe in break-up texts or letters, that it should be face-to-face. He could be there with an eviction notice of some sort—not that the Pack could be evicted since they owned the house outright, paid for in cash—a letter from his police chief dad and/or the people of Oak Creek, formally kicking them out of town. Maybe it was a restraining order of some form, to stay away from Stiles and out of his life.

No. A lawyer or a cop would serve those. Knowing John, he'd hand-deliver it himself if he found out his kid wanted to make the distance legal.

Still, didn't mean that Stiles showing was good news.

Derek slowed as he passed through the living room, opening the front door and watching through the screen as the Jeep pulled in behind the Bee. He stayed where he was as the engine was killed, as Stiles sat in the driver's seat, more than likely collecting himself. It was another long minute or two before he finally got out of his vehicle and headed towards the door, unsurprised to find Derek waiting for him.

“Guess you could probably hear me, huh?” he stated humorlessly, flat smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. Derek took in the dark circles underneath them, how pale he looked, how worn down with his sagging shoulders underneath a ratty old tee and sweats.

The Werewolf shrugged, pushing open the screen as his guest ascended the front steps. “Doesn't take preternatural hearing to hear that thing coming.”

A snort left Stiles and he seesawed his head, holding the screen door open with a fist as he stood on the middle step. “True.” He stayed put, peering around behind himself. The sky was gray, air thick once more, and Derek knew without having to check any weather apps or doppler radars that it was gonna rain again.

Good thing he'd mowed the day before.

Stiles turned back to Derek, peeking behind him briefly before finally looking at him, still not meeting his eye. “Everyone else out?”

“The Pack are all at work, yes,” he answered, part of him glad that he could use the term and no longer hide his relationship to his Betas, part of him hating how awkward and stiff he felt around a man that only a week ago, felt as natural to be beside as breathing.

Cliché, but true.

The human nodded, lips pressed together in a hard line, taking a step forward. Derek moved out the way to let him enter, the screen door closing over with a bang. Stiles made his way over to the couch, dropping down onto it as Derek started to close the front door, moving it back open when it got about halfway. Would probably help to leave it open, to make the room feel more open and for the younger man to not feel as trapped within the house. If he felt as though he had an easy escape, then he'd feel more at ease, more relaxed, more likely to trust that Derek wasn't gonna hurt him and there was no danger.

That thought in mind, Derek took slow, deliberate steps, making more sound than he ordinarily would. Being a predator meant he had the ability to walk silently, to be unheard by even those with Supernatural hearing. But this being a human, one who was more than likely dealing with frayed nerves—definitely dealing with frayed nerves, Derek decided, taking in the bitter note of it in his scent—moving soundlessly and suddenly appearing in his line of sight would do nothing but scare him more, add to the belief that he was in danger somehow.

He rounded the couch, moved to the one on the opposite side of the room, giving Stiles distance, space. He didn't have permission to be close, to share a sofa, to do anything except be in the brunet's presence as he said whatever he wanted to say. Resting his elbows on his knees, he clenched his hands together tight, keeping them to himself, keeping his features relaxed but showing he was listening, focused. Stiles' leg was bouncing up and down rapidly, his thumb tapping against the arm of the couch at much the same pace, completely wired and fraught. Derek wanted to go over, to hold him close and let him know it'll be okay, yet he knew he couldn't. So he clenched his jaw and stayed put, despite every instinct he had screaming at him not to.

“I,” Stiles began, pausing to clear his throat of the roughness his nervousness caused. “I took some pics of your book with my phone. I didn't show anyone though, it was more for my own curiosity and research.” He paused again, wringing the back of his neck. “Honestly, if you hadn't caught me, I. I dunno, I dunno what I would've done. Like, I know I would've fallen into countless Google holes and research binges all night, just like I'd spent the past week doing, ya know? But when it came to you and the—the Pack?” He let out a long breath then shrugged. “It would've been hard to be around y'all in all honesty, trying to hide what I was doing and act normal, like I wasn't aware of what you could possibly be.”

He stopped once again and began looking around the room, at the painted squares on the wall as they tried to decide what color to go with, at the pile of plastic tarps and brushes and trays and rollers in the corner, all waiting to be used, at the single framed photo above Derek's head.

“I'm glad you found me first though, answered my questions about y'all and why y'all left and your family.” His eyes finally looked at Derek, for the first time since the Werewolf had sat down, actually meeting his green orbs. “Helped make shit easier in my head, made it easier to remind myself that y'all aren't the monsters you constantly get portrayed as in movies or TV shows or whatever. Y'all're. Y'all're normal, y'all're human, just with a little bit extra. And most of all, y'all're my friends.”

“Nothing's changed,” Derek spoke up, hoping like hell that whatever came out of his mouth didn't deter anything Stiles was thinking or change his mind or negatively affect the outcome of this conversation. “We're exactly as we'd always been since we showed up.”

“Just now I know y'all more.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together in a hard line. He couldn't argue with that point, not when it was exactly on the nose.

Stiles let out a long sigh, roughing his hand through his hair before he went on. “I understand why no one said anything or told me anything about what y'all are. It never ends well for the Supernatural creature, plus all that shit you told me about the Hunters and Alpha Packs, it's not a surprise you'd hide it since you didn't really know me that well either. You didn't know how I'd react or if it'd send me off running, scared shitless that you'd kill me or turn me or whatever.”

Derek swallowed hard, nodding, silent once again. It was almost as though Stiles was in his head, reading his mind and his reasoning for why he and his Pack had done what they did. It touched him that the human had spent time trying to see things from their perspective and not just his own, solidifying his belief that he was truly meant to be a part of their Pack, meant to be Derek's Mate.

“But,” Stiles continued, Derek's breathing uneven as he tried to hold steady, tried to remain calm. “All the time I've spent with you guys, none of y'all have ever threatened me or gave me any reason to be afraid of any of y'all. You aren't the monsters portrayed in media. Y'all're my friends and nothing's gonna change that.”

A long relieved sigh left Derek, his shoulders slumping and spine practically collapsing as the tension left him. It was exactly, entirely what Derek would've wanted for his dream outcome, but it was better than he'd expected. Stiles was accepting them for what they were, wasn't gonna run them out of town with a pitchfork and torch, wasn't gonna set their house on fire. Inhaling deeply, Derek took in his scent, the honesty and genuine notes, the steady rhythm of his heart and the lack of deception displayed through any of his body's behaviors. One could be the most skilled liar on the planet, yet a Werewolf could always find some little tick or tip that gave it away.

There was none with Stiles.

A small smile pulled at his lips, grateful and relieved, made all the more easier by the lazy grin that spread across Stiles', lopsided and mischievous.

“I still have a shitload of questions. I mean, this thi—”

“I'll answer 'em,” Derek interrupted in a rush, entirely earnest. “Whatever you wanna know, just ask, and I'll tell you.”

Stiles seemed momentarily stunned before the previous nerves returned, not as strong, more like he was unsure of whether he could say what he was thinking. The Wolf opened his mouth to tell him he truly could ask anything, but was cut off by the younger man speaking first.

“What am I to you?”

Okay. Not exactly what Derek had been expecting. He figured the questions would be about Werewolves themselves, shifting, hunting, the Bite, Pack dynamics, shit like that. But instead...it was an inquiry into his own status within the group.

Well, alright then. Understandable really. Stiles would be unsure of his own place in the grand scheme of things, Derek reminding himself that Stiles was now in a whole new world, that he'd have to be the one to give the guy that Aladdin style magic carpet ride and show him everything.

He kept his tone and his smile light, hoping it would help put the human at ease. “All of us have seen you as another member of the Pack pretty much from the beginning.”

It might've been a bit much to put on the human, but Derek knew from here on out things would have to be fully transparent. No more secrets or half-truths or omissions. All of it, nothing less, no matter how serious or heavy.

Stiles was surprised frozen once more before he recovered, his face flushing and the anxiety in his scent deepening. He shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, and rubbed at the back of his neck once more, eyes not able to meet Derek's anymore. “No, I, uh. I meant you specifically. What am I to you, Derek?”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Brows raised, Derek gaped at the other man, his turn to be stunned and unsure. Full transparency, he'd just had that very thought. Yet he'd also been worried about putting too much on Stiles, especially all at once. Hell, the last time he'd done that, the guy had left and didn't contact him for a week. Could Derek honestly survive that again?

Probably not.

But he also couldn't lie or hold anything back, not the way he had. Maybe this wasn't like before. This was just holding it back until the right time. Humans did that, too, right?

“I just,” Stiles went on when Derek had been quiet for too long, unsure how to say anything or what to say. “Reading those pages, apparently you guys can smell emotions or whatever, right? So I'm sure you can smell that I'm pretty much beyond horny every single time I'm around you and that I wanna ride you like a fuckin' pony. I just. I wanna know your perspective on shit.”

Loaded fucking question.

And crudely worded in such a way that had his cock chiming in with a hard throb, fully on board with being said pony.

“You can ride me any time you want,” Derek found himself saying. Not exactly what he'd wanted to respond with but he couldn't be mad about it, not when it was the truth, not when Stiles' scent blossomed and grew and had that added spice of need.

Right, no, not right then. They needed to finish this conversation.

“Wow,” Stiles breathed out, lips parted as his chest shook with a trembling exhale. He shuffled in his seat again, cleared his throat, roughed at his face.

“I don't want just sex out of you though,” Derek clarified, figuring “in for a penny, in for a pound”. Might as well get all that shit out in the open. Or at least a good part of it that Stiles would be able to handle. “I want a fully commited, monogamous relationship for a lifetime. I.” He paused, wincing, then went on. “Remind me at some point later on in a few months or so, I need to explain 'Mates' to you.”

Stiles' eyebrows raised as though he had a damn good idea of what that meant. Probably for the best. Derek couldn't scare him off with an overload of information—again—yet Stiles knew what he'd be getting into if he chose to actually be with the Alpha in a “more than friends” sort of capacity.

“Can I—can I ask just one thing before we make any sort of decision involving any future?” Stiles requested and Derek could only nod, knowing he'd give the man anything he asked for. “Do you turn into a full wolf? Or is it like a half-man, half-wolf sort of thing?”

Derek tilted his head and twisted his lips as he thought it over, as he tried to figure out how to explain it. Only he drew a blank. “Going full wolf is an extremely rare thing that only a handful are capable of, and it's only after reaching this high summit of Wolf enlightenment. My mom had the ability and I'd always hoped that maybe somewhere in me, I had the gene for it or something, but so far no.”

“So it's like a half-wolf thing?”

He grimaced. “Not quite. It'd be easier to show you.”

Stiles nodded, almost eagerly, settling that decision.

So, taking a deep breath, Derek cracked his neck to relieve the tension and let his features change. It was always strange when it happened, his skin prickling as his sideburns elongated, brow a dull ache as it protruded some. He felt his ears grow and become pointed, felt his teeth become fangs, felt his nails grown into claws. His vision sharpened and he knew his eyes were a glowing red that designated him as an Alpha, alerting other Supernaturals to his position and power.

Stiles inhaled sharply at the sight, the air held in his lungs as he froze all over. His scent was awed, as was his slack jaw and wide eyes. Yet under it was that sharp note of arousal, growing stronger, more intense as he looked his fill. A low rumbling growl began in Derek's chest and made its way out his mouth, his cock fattening up in his shorts, and he had to dig his claws into the arm of the couch to keep himself in place, to not get up and stalk over to take advantage of what was clearly a very interested Mate.

Which was apparently just as arousing as everything else, since Stiles' scent spiked once again, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he barely held back a moan. Oh fuck, the sound of it had Derek's hips rolling, his dick half-hard with no signs of stopping, and he knew they needed to stop, he needed to stop.

Or at the very least shift back and lock himself in the bathroom in order to get off.

Stiles was too goddamn hot for his own good.

And rising to his feet.

Oh. Shit.

The brunet made his way over, narrowly missing the coffee table, his gait absent of its usual awkwardness. No, he was pure sensuality at this point and Derek felt like his prey, his head tilting back in supplication and in order to keep contact with those half-lidded eyes of his, bright whiskey in the golden light streaming through the front window that always preluded a storm in the south.

Stiles stopped before him, steady hand reaching out to trace Derek's hard protruding brow, down his sharp nose, smoothing over his top lip before pulling at his bottom one. Derek parted them, let him look his fill at the razor sharp teeth held within, let him test that sharpness with the end of his thumb. He gave in to temptation and darted his tongue out to taste him, salty sweat and coffee grinds from work, the natural flavor that was Stiles just below.

“Fuck,” the human breathed out, moving his hand so it was cupping Derek's cheek. The Alpha tilted his head and nuzzled into his palm, whimpering at the gentle touch. He hadn't realized how starved for it he had been, how much he needed to be treated gently, kindly, how badly he longed to be accepted by someone outside of his Pack.

He'd been lonely, he knew that. It was why he'd tried to build a new Pack, why he'd taken in teenagers who were just as broken as he'd felt. But now, at that moment, he realized he hadn't been entirely aware of just how deep that loneliness reached, how much he longed for something beyond just family. He'd told himself during the road trip that he would put aside any of his own needs or desires until his own Pack was happy and settled. He wouldn't even allow himself to think about what his instincts were calling for.

Now they were happy and settled.

Now it was his turn for the same.

And he'd been taking steps towards that, staying in one place and buying a house, putting down roots and finding his own territory. Now it was time to fill in the blanks left in other parts of his life: a way to possibly make a living, a hobby to fill his time, love.

The first part was still up in the air, which was fine since there was no rush on that given the financial security he already had. If he thought about it, the second part was probably the way he was fixing up the house and building furniture. The last part...

Well, that was where Stiles came in.

And from the way things were going at that moment, it certainly felt as though he had no problem stepping into that role, filling that empty space.

A soft smile formed on Derek's face, relaxed for the first time in nearly a decade, eyes going half-lidded in contentment. Stiles grinned right back, eyes crinkling, and he lifted his other hand to cup Derek's face in both palms before lowering his own head.

And kissing him.

There were no cliché fireworks or lightning crashes or volcanoes erupting. It was simple, easy. It was slotting the key in the front door and inhaling the scent of home while stepping inside. It was climbing into bed at the end of the day, comforter wrapped around like a burrito and tucked in close. It was a sense of rightness, of belonging, of worries sliding away and leaving only total comfort and security.

This was it, Derek knew it deep down. This was who he was supposed to find, this was his. His happiness, his life, his home.

A smile was felt against his lips and he returned the expression, his features smoothing back to their human state. His hands reached up to grip slim hips and he tugged Stiles forward, easily coaxing him to straddle his legs, to settle on his lap. Derek felt a laugh gust against his whiskers and his grin grew before he wiped it away by kissing Stiles. The gesture was returned, deepened, arms slinging around his shoulders as his own wrapped around the human's waist, holding him close. He'd longed for this for weeks, months, since he'd first laid eyes on him at Lou's. And now it was happening, was real. Stiles was in his arms, on his lap, kissing him, chests pressed together.

Life was good.

And apparently about to get better, considering the needy little whine Stiles let out, the way his hips rocked, the bulge pressing against Derek's stomach.

A growl left Derek as he rolled his own hips, as his cock filled up completely and pushed rather insistently against Stiles' ass. The spicy musk of the younger man's arousal got stronger, making his head swim, ratcheting up his own desire, and he rocked his hips up once more, using his grip around Stiles to press him down against his erection.

“Fuck,” Stiles breathed out, reedy, wanton, his lips pulling away and head falling back. Derek took advantage of newly exposed skin, leaving a mess of open mouthed kisses all over his neck and throat, everywhere he could reach, nipping at his pulse point. His instincts screamed at him to leave a mark, to bite down hard to show he was taken, to suck a hickey right where all could see. But part of him still held on to a tiny bit of reality, knowing he was still in high school and his dad was a cop and it was a terrible idea to make it so goddamn obvious that they'd fooled around.

Would be bad enough that his Pack was gonna smell it all over them.

Shit. They were gonna smell it everywhere.

Derek abruptly pulled back, the sudden action causing Stiles to lift his head and stare at him in confusion. “We can't do this here,” he explained, arms loosening their hold.

Stiles look genuinely put out, lower lip sticking out slightly, before realization dawned on him. Smirking with a mischievous light in his eye, he rose to his feet, grabbing hold of Derek's hand. “Your bedroom then. 'Cause if you don't get your hand on my dick in the next five minutes, I may actually literally explode and I get the feeling that wouldn't be fun on your wolfy nose.”

Said Wolf decided to focus on the demand to be touched rather than the gross imagery his statement had turned into, letting out a groan, cock throbbing. Fuck, he felt just as needy, just as hard up. But shit, he needed to see Stiles come, needed to see him naked and writhing and crying out for it at the hand of the Alpha.

His Alpha.

The thought had a growl coming from him and he shot to his feet, damn near knocking the other man down. Stiles smirked at his eagerness as though he wasn't also dying for it, hadn't just admitted that very thing only seconds before. Derek scowled, unamused, getting payback by hooking his hands at the back of the guy's thighs and hauling him in the blink of an eye, taking advantage of his preternatural speed. A gasp hit his ears, followed by a moaning laugh, Stiles' face alight with mirth as he wrapped his legs around Derek's waist.

“Okay, apparently, being manhandled is a turn-on. Thanks for helping me realize that.”

Derek grinned lasciviously. “Anytime.” With that, he carried the younger man into his bedroom, kicking his door shut behind him. He tried tossing the human onto his bed but it was clear Stiles wasn't letting go any time soon. So instead, he crashed them both onto it, catching himself with one hand before he crushed his Mate, before he hurt him in any way.

Their lips reconnected immediately in a hungry kiss and Derek's hips began rocking on automatic, rutting against the man beneath him. Stiles refused to be a passive participant, rolling his own pelvis up and grinding right back, his lips eating at Derek's, tongue meeting his thrust for thrust.

Derek's skin felt alive, like every nerve ending had suddenly ignited, sparked back to life when they had been dead for years. His heart was pumping fiery blood throughout his body, his lungs burning as they struggled to take in air and use it. He was far gone, he knew he was, he just didn't care.

Because his world had narrowed down to the lithe male underneath him, the roll of his body, the feel of his hard cock grinding against Derek's. His scent was alive, permeating everything, loud and screaming out everything he felt. His breathing was shaky, body trembling with need, and Derek...Derek was positively drunk on it.

His hand trailed down, feeling flat pectorals and the hint of abdominals through the soft cotton of his tee. He bypassed all of it, an exploration for another time, another day, feeling like a man on a mission. He let his fingers trace along the band of his sweats, pulling away enough to look Stiles in the eye, to silently ask permission.

He got it immediately, a nod of the head, and he didn't hesitate to slip under the elastic waists of his sweats and his underwear.

A long groan echoed in his ear, although Derek wasn't sure if he made it, or Stiles, or both of them. All he knew was that he was holding his Mate's cock in his palm, the length hard and hot. Stiles looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, pupils blown, lips parted as a whimpered escaped. Derek wrapped his hand around it proper, stroked it once, slowly, teasingly, thinking of how it felt different to his own, yet somewhat the same. It wasn't as big, thinner, cut whereas Derek was uncircumcised. But he still had the same sensitive part under the crown and rubbing over the slit still made it twitch in his hand the way his own did.

He slipped his hand out, only to rid Stiles of his shorts and boxers entirely, tossing them away like the unwanted barriers they were. He pushed the younger man's shirt up, exposing his flat stomach and quivering muscles, his cock laying against it, pulsing with every exhale. Derek took in his flushed cheeks and bitten lower lip and the needy pull to his brow, deciding right then and there that he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

“Please,” Stiles breathed out and who the fuck was Derek to deny him anything he wanted, taking him in hand once more. A swear was the thanks he got as he began stroking him once more, grip tight, touch meaningful and exploratory all at once. Whines and groans left the human, his head falling back against the mattress, hand gripping the sheet before reaching up and getting a fistful of Derek's shirt. He tugged at it, the Werewolf taking the hint and ridding himself of it, giving it the same treatment as Stiles' clothing. The younger man got rid of his own tee as Derek removed his sweats, all clothing shed and discarded, unwanted, unneeded.

Derek's eyes took in miles of bare skin, mole splattered, tan lines on his arms, around his neck. Dark hair trailed from his belly button down to his unruly pubes, cock dripping precome onto it, and Derek longed to bury his nose in all of it, to taste it all, to take in the spicy musk of Stiles' arousal straight from the source.

Only a hand wrapped around his cock and Stiles' crossed ankles dug into his lower back as he tried to pull Derek back down. Ordinarily the Werewolf wouldn't budge, stronger, not falling for a human pushing him around. But this was Stiles, Stiles trying to bring them back together, and it would be stupid of him to fight it when he wanted it just as bad.

Tucking his knees along Stiles' hips, he curled over the slender man, as close as possible, as Stiles' hand wrapped around both of them, rubbing their dicks together. Derek groaned at it, feeling the way his mushroom head rubbed against the sensitive underside of his own, and he began thrusting to get some friction between them. He was leaking precome profusely, a natural lubricant, making the actions easier.

Derek got lost in it all, the sight, the feel, the sound, the smell. The room was practically reeking of sex and desire and warm coffee and maple syrup and Derek's own pine and leather scent. It was his new favorite blend and he wished he could inhale it always, bottle it up and put it in one of those fucking plug-in fresheners that sprayed on automatic to keep the room smelling that way.

He'd settle for making his Den smell like it the old fashioned way, through making Stiles come, by marking him up.

Not that it was really a consolation prize, not when Stiles sounded so good whining in his ear, panting against him. His strokes were faltering so Derek took over, slipping a finger between their cocks to play with both their sensitive areas. Stiles rubbed his palm over their heads, teasing both their slits, their hands wet and slippery.

“I'm gonna come,” Stiles said breathlessly, a slight whine tinting his words. Derek growled, pleased, dipping his head to nip at his collarbone as he tightened his grip. As it was, he was getting wound tighter and tighter, his own orgasm causing his balls to draw up tight.

Stiles first.

It was the only acceptable way.

Stiles gripped onto Derek's arms, nails biting into his biceps, every breath punched out of him. His head would tilt back only for him to snap it back up, refusing to lose eye contact with Derek, who'd lifted his own in order to see the expression on his Mate's face when he finally let go, when he finally fell over the edge.

And it didn't disappoint.

His eyes went wide, slack jaw dropping further as his mouth gaped, harsh breaths huffing out. His entire body tensed up, toes curling against the small of Derek's back, thighs tightening around his waist. Reedy whines came out, almost soundless, high pitched before finally he yelled out a swear and his back arched, head falling back despite the way he'd fought it so hard. It was then that Derek felt a pulsing against his own cock and he looked down between their bodies to see thick ropes of come shooting out, painting the lean male's paler chest as well as his own more naturally tan one. It was enough to cause his own orgasm to come shooting out with a loud growl, his head rearing back as he bared his fangs, only just able to hold his claws back in order to prevent any damage to a highly sensitive area.

Derek continued to stroke them through it, slowing his motions until he finally stopped, having wrung them both dry and empty. Stiles trembled beneath him and he gathered the human in as tight as he could, holding him close, protecting him. His hand ran through sweat damp brown locks, lips kissing all over his face, his shoulder, wherever he could reach. It was a thank you in the only way he knew how to fully convey the sentiment, the meaning hopefully not lost.

Thank you for accepting me.

Thank you for giving me a reason to stay.

Thank you for reminding me what home felt like.

Thank you for it all.

Stiles pressed a smile into the round of Derek's shoulder before kissing it. You're welcome.

One day, Derek knew, he would say more meaningful words out loud. For now, this was enough.

The leaves didn't really turn colors until mid October, the weather evening out and the temperatures dropping. Stiles began layering up, flannel shirts over his graphic tees, the Wolves switching to jeans over shorts to fit in more than anything.

Derek sat down with John Stilinski at the beginning of the month, coming clean about who he really was, who his Pack were, discussing the existence of Supernatural creatures. The police chief was skeptical at first, but a quick shift erased any lingering doubts. The elder Stilinski admitted it was still hard to wrap his head around all of it and keep it all straight, yet he accepted the new facet to his son's friends.

He also accepted Derek as his son's boyfriend, despite heavy reservations created mainly due to the age difference. But he knew how stubborn and hardheaded his son was when he wanted something, so he gave in rather than fighting. Derek liked to think he'd win the man over, if he hadn't already, and prove that he had nothing to worry about.

The Pack were unsurprised by the development between he and Stiles, although money was exchanged between them due to some sort of pool they had going regarding how long it would take them to finally get together. He tried not to glare as his sister thanked him for winning her a “shitload” of cash.

Stiles learned more about Werewolves and Derek learned more about Stiles, including the fact that he'd never really gone anywhere beyond the next big city for the mall. Having a cop for a dad meant not a lot of vacations or trips and despite a huge desire to travel or go on a road trip, he'd never been able to do just that, not trusting his Jeep or having anyone to go with. Derek changed that, driving him down to Charlotte for the day to play tourist.

Of course he caught a lot of flack from the Pack for not being invited, despite repeatedly pointing out how it was a date trip as well as a day-cation. So, then the group—which of course now included Stiles without any hesitation or objections—decided to take once monthly road trips of their own together, all piling into the Bee and driving off.

Which was how Derek found himself heading towards Grandfather Mountain—named due to the fact that it looked like an old man laying on his side—on a warm October afternoon, Stiles in the passenger seat, Cora and Isaac in the row behind them, Boyd and Erica cuddled in the rearmost seats. They passed through the scenery in a blur of black tar, gray slate walls, and fiery treetops, 90s alternative music blasting from an iPod connected to the speaker system. Hootie started singing about wanting to hold someone's hand and Derek thought back to the trip he'd taken with Stiles to the mall, how badly he'd wanted to do just that thing.

So he did.

Reaching over, he threaded his fingers with his boyfriend's, feeling Stiles squeeze them as their now intertwined hands sat on his lap. Derek glanced over to find Stiles already watching, smiling wide as he sang along with the words, just as loud and off-key as the rest of the Pack. He raised their hands, kissing the back of Stiles' pale one, feeling as though he'd finally managed to find that missing piece he'd been almost reluctant to find, as well as a place—and person—to call home.