Archive of Our Own ^beta

“He isn’t dangerous, he’s eight!”

“He’s a menace and he’s out of control. He should be in Eichen house!”

“Not on your fucking life Talia.”

Even with his fists pushed against his ears Stiles can still hear them screaming through the door. He knows he messed up. He knows he’s not supposed to sing outside the house but it was an accident and he doesn’t know how to fix it. His mom can’t tell him how to fix it because she’s gone and his dad doesn’t know how to be a siren, and now Alpha Hale wants to take him away from his dad.

The door opens, letting in more of the sound before it's closed again. A gentle hand lands on his knee and he opens his eyes to the man kneeling in front of his chair. He’d met Dr. Deaton once before when his mother had first gotten sick. She had hoped he could help, but her illness wasn’t something even magic could fix.

“Hello Stiles.” His voice is soft and his face is flat.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles lips are tight and wobbly and he doesn’t want to cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know you didn’t Stiles. Derek is going to be alright. I just I need you to help me so we can help Derek, will you help me?”

“I don’t know how!” Stiles bursts out. “She didn’t, she didn't teach me that yet.” He squeezes his eyes shut as the tears go without his permission and he pushes his fists against his eyes until it hurts.

She can’t teach him anything anymore. She’s gone and she can’t come back.

Dr. Deaton gently pulls his hands away from his face and Stiles looks up at him.

“I know Stiles,” he says gingerly. “She didn’t have enough time with you and that isn’t fair. But for right now I just need you to trust me so that we can help Derek, alright?”

Stiles sniffs and nods.

“That's a good boy.”

Dr. Deaton stands and keeps hold of one of Stiles hands helping him off the cold metal chair. The shouting in the next room fades as they go further down the hall and behind the next set of doors the noise fades to nothing.

Stiles stays close by, following along through a pair of swinging doors and waits behind him as he opens a locked door near the end of the hall.

He hadn’t seen Derek in the woods. He’d felt when the song had hooked, but he hadn’t actually seen him. The boy in the chair is older than Stiles is and he looks sick, really sick. His skin is pale and shiny with sweat, clouded eyes staring out at nothing in particular, eyebrows pinched down in the center. He looks confused.

He looks horrible.

It reminds him of his mother in her hospital bed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stiles says once more and Derek tilts his head towards him as he speaks.

“He is going to be alright.” Dr. Deaton promises. He puts a chair in front of Derek and motions for Stiles to sit down. Derek watches him move across the room and sit in front of him, eyes vacant as he does.

Stiles ducks his head down toward his chest.

“I need you to sing to Derek, Stiles. You can sing anything you want, and I need you to think about letting him go.”

Stiles looks up at him because he can’t sing. “I can't.” He insists.

“Singing isn’t the problem, it's the intent.” He’s tucking something into his ears as he speaks. “If you can think about letting him go while you sing a song it should release him from your hook just fine. Think about holding his hand and letting it go if that helps.” He sets his hand down on Stiles' shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. “I promise you he will be fine.”

He turns and looks at Derek whose clouded eyes are staring forward at Stiles, through Stiles, unfocused and lost.

Letting go is a hard concept for a boy who had just lost his mom, but he sings anyway.

Stiles' life is crap. His mother is dead and word spreads quickly that he tried to kill Alpha Hale's son. The Hales have been a part of Beacon Hills since the beginning of the town and no one wants to listen to him when he tries to explain that it was just an accident.

Derek’s siblings and their friends are the worst. They shove him down anytime the teachers aren’t looking, rip up his homework, spit on him, and on one occasion someone pours a bottle of milk into his backpack at lunch. His friends stop talking to him for fear of being bullied themselves and Stiles ends up alone.

No one does anything to stop it so he finds ways to deal with it. He stops telling his dad after Mrs. Hale tries to get his dad removed from the Sheriff's office for overreach when he tries to have the school stand by their anti-bullying policy. It’s bullshit, but Stiles deals. What are a few ruined backpacks and school reports compared to his dad getting to keep his job?

Stiles keeps his head down, he doesn’t make trouble, and he doesn’t try to make friends. No one is interested in the position anyway.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade is different though. The house across the street is bought by a woman and her son who is his age and isn’t aware of the pariah that he is. Scott is earnest in his pursuit of friendship and Stiles eventually gives in and allows himself a friend.

Its awesome. Scott has asthma and no dad while Stiles has an entire town that practically hates him and no mom. They get on like a wildfire. It's perfect. But then the end of summer comes and Stiles is pretty sure Scott is going to leave him the second that school starts. He will realize Stiles isn’t worth the hassle and then he will go find new friends.

Much to his surprise, Scott doesn’t leave him. He doesn’t abandon him like the others had and at first Stiles really doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t think he’s worth it.

“You’re my best friend dude.” Scott had frowned when Stiles had finally caved to his own curiosity and told him his fears. “I don’t care about them.”

He tells Scott about what happened that day in the woods and all that came after. Scott is the first person, besides his Dad and Dr. Deaton, to believe him.

The people that hate Stiles now hate Scott too. Scott, somehow, isn’t affected by the bullying. He’s too nice to be confrontational and so he just takes it. Stiles is angry but Scott tells him not to be worried about it and after a few months the attention on Scott mostly falls away.

The attention on Stiles stays the same.

Out of all of the Hales Derek seems to be the only one that doesn’t seem to want to fuck with him. He never approaches, never says anything, but he does watch. He can tell when Derek is looking at him, can feel it in the hairs on his neck that he only gets when its Derek, but there isn’t much he can or wants to do about it. He figures Derek probably wants to keep an eye on the guy that almost drained his entire life force and left him to die alone in the woods.

Seems fair enough.

Eventually the outright hostility fades into a low grade resentment that he expects anytime he has a run-in with one of Hales, or a Hale adjacent person. Talia Hale may be the voice of all the supernaturals that reside in Beacon Hills, which technically includes Stiles, but he was content to stay out of her way for, oh, the rest of his freaking life.

His father still complains anytime he has to deal with her, whether it's on town business or legal business. He’s the unofficial leader of the humans to Talia's leader of the supernaturals. They speak more than either of them would like too.

Stiles makes it to high school and halfway through their junior year Scott gets bitten by a rogue Alpha and Stiles loses him.

Well he’d thought he had at least. They both spend two weeks dramatically not talking to each other and their parents force them together when it becomes apparent they aren’t going to do it themselves.

“I just know how you feel about werewolves.” Scott whines sadly. “I don’t want you to hate me too.”

Stiles just laughs, happiness filling him again. “Not all werewolves, Scott. Just the particular breed of asshole the Hales are.”

They hug it out. They are more than friends, more than best friends. They are brothers. No amount of fur or song was going to come between them.

So yeah, the Hales didn’t like him. He didn’t like them either. And for fifteen years he made it a point to have as little interaction with them as possible.

It comes as a shock then, when Derek Hale turns up at his door one night, screaming baby in his arms, asking for help.

Stiles is content with his life. He likes living at the very edge of Beacon Hills, Hale drama aside. He loves the crisp mountain air. He has a small house tucked up next to the lake an hour outside of town, which his father hates but is just happy that Stiles stayed that close at all.

He loves the tall trees reaching up to kiss the sky and the storms that roll through in the spring. Even the way it snows just enough to be magical and not a nuisance regardless of the fact that he lives in California.

He could have moved closer to the sea, a preferred spot for his kind, and he’d thought about it for a long time but still he chose to stay. For his dad, for Scott, for his love of a place his mother chose over the sea and her people as well. He was the only Siren for a hundred miles and that just made his business boom. A voice for hire was rare so far inland. Supply and demand was his bitch.

Deaton had sought him out a few days after the Derek debacle and had taken Stiles under his tutelage teaching him how to use his Siren powers. The best he could at least, being a Druid and not a Siren.

Initially he had been too frightened to sing anything, convinced he could only do harm so he didn’t want to learn how to do it at all let alone properly. Deaton was patient though and for the first year he taught him about other things. About his own Druidic magic, about Siren history, about the different supernatural beings that lived in their town alongside humans.

“You can help as much as you can harm.” Deaton had explained when Stiles had shared with him that he thought his voice was too dangerous. “Yes a song can be dangerous and lead someone to destruction, but it can also lead someone to healing. Don’t you think it would be more dangerous to not understand your powers in the event of a problem?”

And he really couldn’t argue with that.

He was a quick study. He had learned how to unhook a song before it took too much from someone. How to push his own energy into others and take it to weaken and use it as a weapon when needed.

He learned how to sing without hooking anyone at all, just for his own pleasure. To have his sight shift into a purple hue and not be afraid of losing himself.

He learned how to target one person in a room without hooking the others and how to target multiple people at one time. How to bring joy and peace in the midst of suffering, and to bring about faster healing by pushing just a bit more of his energy through the hook when needed. The animal clinic was constantly full of creatures great and small who were scared or in pain or sometimes both, and Deaton made it part of his training to help out wherever he could. Unofficial animal soother became his first job.

He also learned how to force someone else’s hook out. In cases where a Siren refused to let go, or couldn’t for whatever reason, forceful removal was necessary to save whoever was being siphoned. It’s what would have happened if Stiles wouldn’t have let go of Derek. He was forever grateful for Deaton being able to help him unhook Derek himself because forceful removals almost always resulted in the Sirens death.

After his high school graduation he’d packed up his room, much to the dismay of his father, Scott, and Deaton, who had wanted him to have a meeting with Talia to smooth out the years long problem with the pack and himself, which was absolutely not going to happen, and moved outside of town to the lake.

He’d thought about continuing his work with animals but he found people were in need of his services and they paid better. Singing for people was more challenging than it was for the animals with most of his client base finding him for an alternative or in addition to therapy. With his regulars he was able to work sparingly and the exchange of energy kept his mind from being fogged, kept him from feeling stretched too big within his skin. Being in charge of his own hours didn’t hurt either.

None of those hours were two a.m. on a Saturday when he’s half asleep scrolling through funny animal videos on his phone, so when he hears a car approaching he is immediately concerned. He checks his phone but there aren't any messages and his dad would have definitely called if something was wrong. He doesn’t have time to even worry that someone is coming to give him bad news about his dad because he hears a door open and it's followed by the sound of a baby crying.

No, not crying. This is worse. A terror filled shrill takes up place in the quiet night that is so raw and violent it sends a shiver up Stiles' spine and he’s out of bed and to the door before whoever it is has the time to knock.

Derek Hale looks like he hasn't slept in several days. He has IKEA sized bags under his eyes which are only overshadowed by how blood shot they are. Stiles didn’t think that it was possible for werewolves to look this ragged. There’s a look on his face that is achingly desperate and curled tight against his chest is a screaming child.

Her little hands flex against Derek's shirt as she rattles in just enough breath to start screaming out with renewed vigor causing both him and Derek to wince.

“Please help me.” Derek says before Stiles has a chance to process what the ever living fuck he is witnessing. His voice is hoarse as he continues. “I know you hate me and you have every right to turn me away-”

Again, what?

“-but she’s just a baby. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“What are you talking about? What are you doing here?” He asks over another wail.

“Deaton.” Derek says, like it's an explanation enough on its own.

It isn’t.

“What?”

“Her pack is gone and I can’t calm her down. She hasn’t slept in four days.”

Stiles' spine goes rigid and his jaw clenches. She is far too young to be separated from her pack. He knows how crucial the bond is to pups. Being separated from the bond could result in the pups inability to form proper bonds with her pack and threaten the relationship with her own wolf. It could even cause death, much like touch deprivation in human children, if the bonds couldn't be fixed. Being separated from her pack could easily kill her.

“Bring her in.” Stiles ushered him, moving aside so they could come in.

Her screaming scratches at his ears and he can’t imagine how painful it has to be for the wolf.

Stiles shuts the door before turning back to them. “Give her to me.” He reaches for her and Derek passes her to him without hesitation.

Her screaming doubles in strength. Even if Derek wasn’t her pack he still smelled like her own kind. The scent of the sea he carried on him would be strange to her.

He cradles her best he can, shifting her up so she’s nestled against his neck and caged between his hands.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks.

Derek's whole body is being held tight and Stiles is worried that in his desperation he might implode. “Help her.”

“I will.” Stiles assures. “But you brought her here and she can’t speak for herself. I need you to make the decision for her well-being. You need to tell me how you want me to help her.” He shouldn’t be doing anything without the proper paperwork, but for now a verbal contract will have to suffice.

The little body in his arms is vibrating in jerks and tremors as she wails, his hand soothing over her back doing nothing to calm her.

Dereks shoulders drop from where they had been held, his body crumbling faster than a nature valley bar. Briefly, Stiles worries that he’s about to pass out.

“Rest.” Derek's voice is as exhausted as he looks now. “She's so tired, she needs to rest.” Then, even quieter, he adds, “please.”

Stiles nods. “I can do that.” The relief that falls over Derek's frame is palpable.

He shuts his eyes.

Hooking children is tricky. They have less energy to work with so the song has to be right from the start. There isn’t room for error.

Songs are crafted from feeling and memory, deep emotion that shapes you throughout your life. When he had hooked Derek it had been an impulse, and outpouring of his grief and he hadn’t sang another song like that since. He has songs he had practiced and crafted over the years for a multitude of different situations but he didn’t have a specific song he’d already used for a child needing rest. Not for this kind of weariness at least.

What he did have was his mother singing to him after nightmares, after bicycle accidents, while he had the flu and when he was sad. The way she called him hunny when he was frightened or sick like he was special, loved.

If rest couldn’t be found in love then where could it be found?

He focuses on the memory of his mother brushing her hand over his brow, of her voice soft and loving as he drifted off to sleep. He thinks of every nap he’s ever had, of deep sleep and restful nights after long exhausting days. He thinks about the kind of naps he takes after a large holiday meal and the kind of warmth he gets when his father wraps him up in a hug.

It will work. He believes that it will, and hooking anyone with a song is all about intent and belief.

He sings, letting the song flow through him, catching her instantly. There is pain in her that he pulls out at the same time he pushes in rest and calm. She is so small and her hurt is so intense he feels sick with it, but he pushes on with his own memories of love and comfort and peace threading them gently through the hook he has in her. He sways back and forth with one hand tucked under her bum, the other gently wrapped around her back, thumb brushing against her neck among her curls and his song demands she finally finds rest.

Her cries fade into whines, her whines into hiccups, her hiccups into sniffs before finally she’s just breathing against his damp shoulder where her spit and tears have soaked through his shirt.

“That's a good girl.” He says gently against the top of her head and he looks over at Derek.

Derek is staring at him with a half crazed glint to his eyes. Reverent. Surprised. Relieved. Mostly though, he looks like he is about to fall over in exhaustion.

“She should sleep through the night.” Stiles tells him quietly, and then out of curiosity, because he’s never learned to mind his own business, he asks, “where is her pack?”

It was so quick he nearly missed it but a flash of something like grief crossed Derek's face before a firm blank expression took over. “They’re dead.”

The hand Stiles has on her back spasms slightly and then holds her a little bit tighter. A bit closer. “All of them?”

It takes Derek a moment to respond and he looks down at the floor as he does. “The Argents.”

Stiles wants to scream.

For eight years the Argents had been attacking smaller packs of werewolves decimating entire blood lines. The pack house would be burnt to the ground, the bodies of anyone who had made it out of the house trapped by a circle of wolfsbane littered with bullet holes.

The Argents had been a traditional hunter clan until they split into two factions. One group kept to the code but the other began to hunt werewolf packs. Packs that had never broken the code. Small packs that kept to their own business. At least once a year Stiles would hear about another pack that has been wiped out by them.

The Supernatural Council was working with branches of human law enforcement to try and find them but all trails had ended with nothing. As to why the rift occurred there were endless theories and rumors, the main one being that one of the daughters of the main family branch had been killed by a werewolf, prompting their anger and causing some to split from the code, but nothing had been confirmed.

“How many?” He can’t bring himself to say the word dead.

“Twenty three.” Derek's eyes dart down to the girl and then back up. His voice is quieter when he continues, as if he is trying to spare her from his words even while sleeping. “By the time we got there the house had already burned and the Argents were gone.”

They were always gone by the time any help had arrived. They barely existed, boogeymen, phantoms of destruction leaving ash and death in their wake with never any way to follow them.

“I found them in the woods. Her mother made it out of the barrier somehow but there was too much wolfsbane in her to burn it out.” His lips pursed and he shuffled back and forth for a moment before quietly adding, “she swore her to me.”

Stiles swallows around the bile climbing his throat. He doesn’t need to hear about the child passing arms. About the oath Derek would have given allowing her mother to die in peace knowing her pup was safe passing her parentage onto Derek. Deaton had taught him all about that Werewolf custom and he knows its binding. She was his pup now.

“What's her name?”

“Cordelia.” Something of a soft smile graces his face. Soft and sad.

She has chestnut brown hair and tiny curls around her ears. He trails his fingers over the bridge of her nose. It twitches while she sleeps on.

Stiles insists that Derek doesn’t owe him anything. He’s just happy she’s calmed enough to get the sleep she so desperately needs.

And even though Derek is his sworn enemy or whatever, Stiles hopes he will be able to get some rest too.

Two days later, and equally as late as the first time, Derek and Cordelia are back. She is a mess and Derek looks like he hasn't slept at all. The Ikea bags are growing. He’s apologetic for the second late night visit but Stiles assures him its fine. He doesn’t mind the late night call for someone who truly needs it. He pulls out her agony and sings her to sleep again and sends Derek out the door with a thermos of tea this time.

It becomes a pattern. Stiles isn’t sure if it’s Cordelia getting too worked up or Derek needing to give into the demand of sleep, but he starts to expect them sometime after midnight every two days.

When he opens the door for Derek on visit twelve there are unbelievable dark raccoon bags under his eyes.

“Dude, a lil heavy on the grunge ya think?”

He’s surprised Derek doesn’t need an explanation. “She hasn’t slept at all since Monday.”

Stiles feels immediately guilty about the four hour nap he’d had after lunch.

He watches Derek nuzzle against the top of her head for a moment before he passes her to him. Cordelia slides into his arms easily enough and Derek folds onto the loveseat like a bounce house deprived of air in a lump of uncomfortable looking werewolf. Stiles feels Derek's sigh in his bones and watches his eyes slip closed. The man is clearly exhausted and overwhelmed and Stiles wonders, but doesn't ask, why Derek is apparently parenting this child without the aid of his pack. It isn’t his place at all.

He turns his attention to Cordelia, whose little wet fingers have found their way into his ear, and he hums against her forehead. She's still crying, but not as hard as when they arrived and when Stiles opens his mouth to sing she curls into his neck like she has real estate there.

It doesn't take long before she is puffing soft hot breaths against his now damp skin but when he checks he finds her still awake.

“Hey there cutie pie. Feeling better?” He smiles down at her. It's the first time she's calmed and not fallen asleep. Her hazel eyes are bright, tracking him as he moves his head back and forth just to see if she was with him.

“Hi.” She smiles at him wide, one small tooth pointing out of her bottom gums. “Aren't you a pretty girl?” He asks and she scrunches her face in answer.

A soft snore comes from Derek and Stiles chuckles when he catches sight of him. He’s slid down, his head fallen to the side on the arm of the chair, lips parted slightly.

Stiles doesn’t know why people look younger when they sleep but this Derek looks more like the one Stiles remembers from high school.

“Why don’t we let daddy get some sleep before you head home, hn?” He asks her. She flexes her fingers against his neck and he takes it as an agreement. He lays against the pillows on the other couch tucking her against his chest closest to the back of the couch for optimum safety and she seems to like the closeness. After a while she rolls herself over looking up at him.

He dangles his fingers over her and she tries to reach them. He’s not sure how old she is, he doesn’t even know if Derek knows for sure, but his regular Thursday appointment shows him pictures of her one year old grandson who is nearly twice her size and is walking so he thinks she's probably about half that age.

Stiles pokes her chubby little cheek and smiles sadly. “I think you're going to be okay kiddo. You just need a little time.”

Derek snores loudly and Stiles giggles along with Cordelia.

There's a hand on his shoulder and a gentle, “hey,” that pulls him out of sleep. It's barely bright outside and Derek's standing over him and it takes him a moment to realize he fell asleep at some point. His head snaps to where Cordelia is drooling on his chest. He turns back to Derek.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” He whispers.

“Neither did I.” Derek says back.

“I have a spare room.” He’s been thinking about it since last week. Derek’s always so tired when they leave and the room is mostly just storage with a bed his dad used all of once. It wouldn’t take him a lot to clear it out for them, not that he’d meant to say it first thing in the morning, or maybe at all. His brain wasn’t fully online yet. “You could sleep in it. Next time. So you aren’t driving when you're tired. You know, responsible driving behavior and all that.”

He’s about to take it back because long silence is always uncomfortable and he can blame his offer on being half asleep but then the look of surprise drops off Derek's face and his lips curve into a soft smile and he says, “we may take you up on that.”

He waves them off from the porch and then spends the day cleaning up the spare room for next time.

Cordelia is Stiles' new favorite thing. It's weird for him to be seeing Derek on such a regular basis, but he is quickly growing fond of his little girl. When he’s got her calmed down and she isn’t fighting for some sort of control over her emotions she likes to hold onto his ear rubbing the lobe between her little fingers. She’ll nudge her nose into the crook of his neck and her little hot baby breaths on his skin are so cute. He likes to rub his cheek against her soft hair as she falls asleep against his shoulder, the beating of her little heart firm under the hand he has on her back.

He’ll take a little Derek if he gets to keep the baby snuggles.

His curiosity gets the best of him on trip number fifteen. “What does your pack think about you conferring with the boogeyman?”

Derek’s nose wrinkles, his expressive eyebrows furrow into something of a frown. “You aren’t the boogeyman.”

Stiles shrugs. Cordelia's sleeping against his shoulder and her head bounces as he does. “Nemesis, enemy, devil incarnate, whatever works. I’ve been waiting for your mother to appear and warn me off or something.”

He’s only had one nightmare about Talia Hale showing up in his house to violently throw him in Eichen House like she's wanted to since he was 8. It had not been pleasant.

Derek doesn’t say anything about the other titles Stiles has offered up for himself or the comment about his mother. Instead he looks to the ground and mutters, “I haven’t told them.”

Stiles can’t help the grin that forms on his face, pleased in a way that Derek is sneaking around his family's backs to come see him. “How devious of you Mr. Hale.”

He doesn’t comment on the way Derek's ears flush red in embarrassment.

After the twentieth time Stiles stops counting. He wakes up to the smell of breakfast cooking and, well, that’ s different. He sneaks from bed and slinks down the hall peeking his head around the corner and snorts at what he finds.

Derek is trying to make breakfast. Trying, because Cordelia is crawling up his face and attempting to stick her fingers in his mouth at the same time.

He hasn’t seen them interact outside of her screaming or sleeping. For the moment she seems content to feed him her fingers.

“Cordelia, I don’t know what it is about you putting your fingers in my mouth that you think is so funny, but I don't find it as funny as you do.” Derek's voice is still deep from sleep as he tries to reason with her completely failing to sound sincere.

As if she knows exactly what Derek is saying she giggles and sticks her pudgy little hand towards his mouth once more.

Derek catches it with his lips and pretends to eat it which brings on a whole new onslaught of giggles.

It's adorable. Sickly sweet for so early in the morning and Stiles feels like he is poking in at a moment he doesn’t have the right too. He shuffles further into the room making his presence known with a short, “morning.”

Derek tenses for a moment before relaxing and that's when Cordelia strikes, slapping a wet baby hand to his face.

“Hi. Good morning.” Derek says back and for such a large man he seems like he is trying to make himself small. Unassuming. And yeah, it’s some sort of weird twilight zone moment to have Derek Hale making breakfast in his kitchen while trying to appear unassuming, but it doesn’t feel bad.

“Whatcha making?”

And now Derek Hale is blushing in his kitchen. It's kind of adorable and he’s definitely living in some twilight zone episode.

“I found some pancake mix and thought I could make breakfast as a thank you. You have done so much for us and It was supposed to be nice, but it was a little harder than I thought it was going to be and instead we made a mess.”

There is pancake mix on almost every part of the counter, some on the cabinets, and some on Derek’s cheek from Cordelia's hand.

“I can see there was a struggle.” He can’t keep the grin from forming on his face.

“I’ll clean it up.” Derek promises quickly.

“Well,” Stiles says, stepping further into the kitchen. He reaches out for Cordelia, who sees him as a new target and goes into his arms willingly. “I still think pancakes would be nice, so little miss and I will go play and you can focus on breakfast.”

Rested Cordelia is a whole other creature. Her faces are more expressive, the small coos from the night are full on babbles of nonsense and Stiles just makes up the other side of the conversation as she tries to tell him something. He doesn’t know what but it sounds important.

The pancakes are pretty good. He finds out that Derek is something of a health maniac, not that he couldn't tell just by looking at him, but he put Stiles ice cream nuts in the pancakes like an insane person. Luckily Stiles had whip cream to balance out whatever good Derek was hoping adding nuts to pancakes was going to do.

The psycho.

Breakfast becomes part of their routine. It's weird enough that they have a routine, let alone adding breakfast to the mix. Every couple of days Derek shows up with a Cordelia crying, though over time it’s become less intense. She quiets easier. Stiles helps calm her and the two of them sleep over, they share breakfast and part for the day. A little over three months of them visiting and Derek shares with him that he can feel tentative bonds forming with her finally.

Stiles has been getting up earlier to play with Cordelia so Derek can use both hands to make them a mess free breakfast. For some reason Derek has made it his mission to get Stiles to eat better. He sneaks vegetables into omelets and makes blueberry oatmeal and carrot cake muffins with healthy icing made from coconut milk and some sort of healthier sugar that Stiles has never heard of. It all tastes amazing but it does make Stiles feel a little bad for the heart healthy meals he’d been forcing on his father since he was nine. Not too bad, just a little, and mostly because he wasn’t a good cook until at least fifteen.

Still Stiles would be happy with his sugary cereal over the sink like the gremlin he knows he is, so breakfasts by Derek are a treat.

He orders a highchair so that they can both eat without having to pass her back and forth. Derek’s surprised face is endearing when Stiles pulls it out one morning, and it makes all the difference to their routine.

Cordelia is sitting up on her own and Derek said his mother said she seems a little over six months old. She can’t crawl yet but she can roll and Stiles is always shocked at how quickly she disappears when given the opportunity.

It’s nice having guests. His father doesn’t come out this far just in case someone needs him in town. Scott has been busy with his new job and moving into a new apartment with his longtime girlfriend Kira, so he hasn't had the time to come out in a while. Stiles was the one to move so far outside of town so he hasn't pushed for him to visit more. He certainly wasn’t risking going to town other than to get groceries once every two weeks, even longer if he forewent fresh produce and just got the boxed items delivered from Amazon. Sometimes he’d stop in and have dinner with his dad when he wasn’t on shift but it wasn’t as often as he would like. Having Derek and Cordelia there, sharing his space and being a present figure, another source of noise that wasn’t just reruns felt kinda good.

“You should come over earlier.” Stiles tells Derek one morning over breakfast tacos.

Derek had practically dragged himself in the night before with Cordelia more upset than she had been in a while. He’d worn his exhaustion heavier than usual, muttering a quiet ‘breakfast’ as he lifted the bag on his shoulder in explanation and passed the screaming child over to him before making his way to the kitchen. By the time Cordelia was drooling into Stiles' shirt Derek was sawing logs on the couch.

“What?” Derek questions while dodging a chunk of avocado Cordelia is not interested in trying.

“At night.” Stiles explains. “It doesn’t make sense for you to come over half asleep at midnight. I am already expecting you and it’s probably better for both of you to get a full night's rest instead of driving in the dark.”

“But I can see really well in the dark.” Derek flashes his eyes for emphasis.

It’s meant to be cheeky. Stiles can tell by the way his lips turn up in a quick little smirk. It falls off his face just as quickly and Stiles knows it's because of his own reaction, because Derek has blue eyes.

He doesn’t know what his face did but Derek pulls back full body tensing, shoulders drawn up and jaw tight from clenched teeth. “I’m not,” he grits out, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Which is kind of hilarious because Stiles almost killed him once. If anyone should be afraid of being hurt it's Derek.

“What? No. Derek, I didn’t-I’m not afraid of you. I just didn’t know.”

“I don’t really advertise it.”

His voice is snappy and Stiles scrambles to come up with some way to fix it.

“Derek I’m not afraid of you, I promise. Just listen to my heart, okay?” He scoots his chair just a bit closer to him as if that would help him to hear better. “I was just surprised.”

Derek turns his head back but he doesn’t meet Stiles' eyes. “I didn’t, it wasn’t-”

It’s clear he is trying to form a confession and Stiles isn’t having it.

“Hey, hey, no.” Stiles leans in. He reaches his hand out wrapping it tightly around Derek's wrist. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“You would feel more comfortable if-”

“I am comfortable, Derek.” Stiles cuts him off. “I am as comfortable with you now as I was ten minutes ago. You don’t owe me an explanation to keep things the same. Nothing’s changed. We’re still friends.”

And when the fuck did he become friends with Derek Hale? He doesn’t know when Derek ‘a Hale’ Hale had become Derek his friend, but he finds that he cares about him. He cares that Derek’s afraid and hurting right now and he wants to fix it. He wants Derek to feel cheeky and make jokes about seeing in the dark.

“I mean it.” Stiles says, squeezing a bit tighter at Derek's wrist. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”

Derek finally looks up at him and Stiles holds his gaze, hoping that whatever is on his face now is backing up everything he had said. If not, he hopes Derek can hear the steady confident beat of his heart. Because there is nothing wrong with Derek. He’s been around the man for months now and he isn’t afraid of him at all.

Before Derek can respond Cordelia breaks the tension by throwing her bowl of eggs and avocado onto the floor and slapping her hands into what is left on her tray table with a triumphant giggle.

Derek’s shoulders relax as he turns to face the tiny mess maker. “Cordelia, I thought we talked about this.” He says to her with mock disappointment.

She lifts her hand towards him. Her disgusting egg caked spit covered hand.

“I like that you want to share with me, but I have my own breakfast.”

She turns and offers the hand to Stiles, who reaches out with his spoon and pretends to eat some.

“Mmm. Thank you.”

Satisfied that someone has shared food with her, she sticks her own hand directly into her amber curls.

“She’s hopeless.” Stiles offers Derek a smile and Derek shares his own back. Derek takes his arm gently out from under Stiles hand and turns back to his breakfast. The air is less tense now, and they don’t talk about Derek’s eyes anymore.

They start showing up in time for dinner. Stiles and Derek take turns cooking and occasionally Derek brings take-out back with him from town. Where breakfast isn’t his strong suit Stiles is pretty good at making dinner much to Derek’s surprise.

“I’d worried that you only knew how to make cereal and hot dogs.”

Stiles had scoffed at that. “I’ll have you know I cooked meals for my dad practically every day until I moved out, and his doctor is very happy with how healthy his heart is.”

Stiles sees a sale online for a baby bath seat and some bath toys which he orders immediately because while a toddler can make a mess at breakfast that is mostly manageable, she is an absolute disaster for dinner no matter what they make for her. Stiles will swear on a Necronomicon that he will never feed a child rice again. That shit sticks to everything.

It's the first time he’s had reason to use the number Derek had scrawled on a sticky note and left on the fridge a few weeks ago. He shoots Derek a text because he shouldn’t just assume that he’s comfortable with her taking baths at his house, even though he had already placed the order. He could always cancel it.

To Derek:

Buybuybaby had a sale on bath toys and towels and I thought it would be helpful if there was a set over here, but I can cancel the order if that's not okay.

From Derek:

No, that's a good idea. How much was it?

To Derek:

Waffles with chocolate chips and homemade whip cream. No nuts.

From Derek:

What do you have against nuts at breakfast?

To Derek:

Nuts belong on ice cream, in pie, or in brownies, and nowhere else. What is your obsession with putting nuts in things?

Before Stiles can cringe at the text he sent, because it sounds like a come on even though it wasn’t, Derek texts back.

From Derek:

Nuts are a great source of Saturated Fat. You need that to live, unlike shitty sugar cereal.

To Derek:

Oh shush you health nut.

From Derek:

Taking care of one's health is wise.

To Derek:

You are a werewolf. I’m pretty sure your health is fine; sugar or not.

From Derek:

You’re insane. I'm not putting sugar in the whip.

Stiles texts back a very mature, ‘whatever loser.’

They start texting pretty regularly after that and between the texting and the shared meals and bits of time they share with a small person they end up talking about a lot.

Derek shares with him about how Cordelia doesn't like to be around his pack. She cries and bites anyone that isn’t Derek’s two sisters when they are at the pack house. Stiles assures him that she will grow out of it but really he has no real knowledge to go off of. He just sees how she is with Derek and himself and can’t imagine her not being a bundle of joy for everyone she is around.

Derek says that Stiles is her favorite person outside of himself, and Stiles? Well he beams at that.

Derek doesn’t live at the main pack house anymore, but he doesn’t elaborate why. Stiles doesn’t ask even though he knows it’s custom for the Alphas' children to stay in the main house until they marry. If Derek wanted to tell him he would and Stiles doesn't feel like it's his place to pry.

They talk about Derek's book collection, and really, Stiles is not surprised for some reason to find that Derek is a colossal nerd. He knows far too much about history, he’s a basketball fanboy, and he has a collection of coins because of course he would.

He talks about how much he likes being Cordelia's father. He hates that it came at such a price, and when she is old enough, he wants to tell her about her mother's bravery. He wants to tell her how much she was loved.

Stiles tells Derek about his magic herb collection, his job, and how bad it was when his mother died. How his father withered away and became someone that Stiles didn’t know. How Stiles was suddenly the responsible one in their home fielding his fathers alcoholism in the minefield of his grief.

Stiles never told anyone how bad it had gotten before his father sought out help. Not that he had had many people to tell. But he had carried them both through that first year after his mothers death and they had built something sustainable after that.

It's somewhere between Derek's secret love of chocolate, and his belief in the theory about candle wax and black holes, that Stiles has a brief revelation that he may have a teensy-weensy little cluster of feelings for Derek that he refuses to quantify as a crush. He pushes that shit to the back of his mind.

Stiles debates the cereal for a stupidly long time. There are so many options and so many of the options are basically the same thing in different packaging, thank you capitalism, give or take more or less sugar.

He’s holding Lucky Charms and some kind of healthy cereal that Derek likes which boasts the benefits of different grains, fiber, and something about super-foods. Honestly it’s more effort and focus than cereal should require. It's cereal for goodness sake, you eat it while watching cartoons and it shouldn’t be this complicated.

On the one hand Cordelia is a growing child who needs things like nutrients and fiber and other crap that makes you grow strong. On the other hand she has begun to want his Lucky Charms, much to Derek's disappointment, so Stiles would most likely be sharing whatever cereal he bought with her. But he was a fully grown and developed man who liked to eat sugar for breakfast, which was not suitable for toddlers according to Derek, werewolf baby or not.

They were both just excited that she had gotten through her first round of molars coming in. He was not looking forward to the next molar phase but hopefully there was another two months or so yet to get ready for that. Not that he was planning that far ahead or anything.

“I could just get both.” He says aloud to himself. Derek wouldn’t eat the fun cereal with him, but maybe he would eat the boring cereal with Cordelia and that way he could make everyone happy while still sneaking Cordy some of his delicious sugar based goodness.

Satisfied with his decision, he puts both of the boxes in his cart.

The list is on his phone, a mix of things he normally gets and a growing number of things that fit not only him but Derek and Cordelia because basically all meals but lunch are now at casa-Stilinski. His bi-monthly shop trip includes more than he had grown used to, but they almost have a rotation of meals that work for them so its getting easier to grab everything in one go.

He’s scrolling through it to see where to head next when a familiar giggle from the next aisle over pulls his attention. He tucks his phone back in his pocket and pushes the cart towards the noise spying Cordelia immediately when he rounds the corner. She has a toy in her hands, a durable teething toy he recognizes as one of her current favorites that they call Mr. Monkey, and when she sees him she reaches out for him, eyes lit with happiness and a wide mouthed grin on her face.

He waves and moves to push the cart forward when a Hale, who is most certainly not Derek, steps into his path.

Laura Hale snarls at him. She fucking snarls at him with a full lip curl and lengthening canines and flashing gold eyes in the middle of the grocery store for waving at a child. It's as terrifying as it was when she did it in middle school.

He feels himself folding inward, breath stuck in his lungs and he backs away out of old habits before he can even think about it. His heart ratchets up in fear and Laura raises her chin triumphantly letting out a smug little hum. He feels like crap and when Laura pushes Cordelia away from him she screams.

As much as he wants to, he doesn't move to comfort her. Instead, he pays for what he has in the cart and abandons the rest of the list for another day. Cordelia's cries echo throughout the store as he flees.

It isn't a surprise when Derek shows up that evening with a screaming child. He’s felt like screaming a fair bit himself since he left the store.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” Derek grumbles, passing her off the moment Stiles reaches for her. “Laura said she’s been like this for hours.”

Cordelia folds into his chest tucking her head down into the crook of his neck and continues to scream, breath and spittle making a hot little puddle of condensation. He splayed his hand over her back caging her protectively as best he can and makes small cooing noises in an attempt to soothe her.

“What do you want for dinner?” Derek asks.

“I don’t care.” Stiles says between his clenched teeth. He can see Derek’s face scrunch up, confused at the hostility, but Stiles just turns away and takes Cordelia into the living room. He knows that he’s being a dick, but he’s raw from the day and he doesn’t have the energy to talk about it right now. He wonders if Laura told him that she saw the siren freak in the store waving at his daughter. He feels a thorn of guilt that thought brings up because he knows that's not how Derek is.

He doesn’t hook Cordy even though she’s screaming in his ear in a way that she hasn’t in weeks. He’s cautious to do so with so many emotions groaning inside him, but she quiets at his touch and at his voice easily enough with time.

After dinner Stiles gives her a bath and puts her down to bed as Derek cleans up from dinner.

Derek’s back had grown more tense as the night had gone on. At some point he stopped trying to talk all together when he had realized that Stiles wasn’t in the mood, until silence sat over them with Cordelia’s happy babbles the only noise aside from the chewing.

When he comes back out of the bedroom Derek is leaning his back against the kitchen sink, arms crossed in front of his chest, jaw a firm line and his eyebrows, his stupid eyebrows, are narrowed down in frustration.

“You want to tell me what I did to piss you off?” Derek asks low and clipped.

Stiles grabs the kettle off the stove and moves towards the sink. Derek shifts, enough that Stiles could fill it with water, but not enough that they don’t bump shoulders when he reaches out for the tap.

It’s clearly purposeful on Derek’s part and Stiles knows that he could shut himself in his room and not deal with any of this, but that isn’t going to help anything. Truthfully he knows he is being petulant and that Derek had nothing to do with what happened, but he hasn't felt this bruised in a while.

Once he has the stove clicked on he rests his hip against the counter, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep the trembling hidden from all his bottled emotions. “Your sister snarled at me today.” He says between grit teeth.

“What?”

“I was in town shopping and I saw Cordelia and when I waved at her your sister snarled at me.” Stiles spits out. “I waved at her and your sister didn’t like it and her growling upset Cordelia. I had to listen to her cry as I left.”

His throat feels hot with rage, and without his permission, so do his eyes. He blinks against it and he doesn’t look at Derek. When it’s clear that Derek isn’t going to say anything he continues with the thoughts he has had in his heart and on his mind since he’d fled the store.

“I know you all hate me but you came here. You brought her to me. And I fucking care about her, okay? I wouldn’t hurt her and your fucking sister-” he has to pause for a second. He hasn’t felt like this since middle school when he got pushed into lockers and spit on as he tried to get to class.

“She made me feel like shit Derek.” His voice cracks and his words lack the venom he wants them to hold. He just hurts. “I don’t want Cordelia to hate me like the rest of you.”

“Stiles I don't,” Derek sounds pained. Enough so that Stiles looks up at him.

He looks confused and a little wounded. “I don’t hate you.” He finishes.

Stiles laughs. “Come on Derek.” He can’t keep the exasperation from his voice. “Your whole family hates me. Your pack hates me. God, half the fucking town still side eyes me whenever I’m around because I’m a danger to society. Your mother thinks I should be in Eichen house.” He repeats Talia’s words he overheard nearly 16 years ago flashing air quotes with his fingers as he does and he resolutely ignores how the stinging in his eyes grow sharper.

“Stop it.” Derek commands, his eyes flashing blue.

Stiles doesn’t know if it's a challenge or irritation or what but he flashes his own back at him, purple and angry.

Derek isn't deterred by his Siren eyes. He sees them every time he hooks a song. “Stiles, I've never hated you.” He insists. “I knew it was an accident. I didn’t mean to follow you, but you were so sad.” The color bleeds from Derek’s eyes and the tension from his shoulders follows.

He takes a deep breath before he continues.

“I was out in the forest when I picked up your scent. It was so sharp with sadness and pain that I could hardly breathe. I had to follow it, and then I got swept up in your song.”

Stiles feels himself deflating. They’ve never talked about what happened. It’s something that their conversations always skirted around and never touched on.

“My mom died the day before.”

Derek's eyes go wide. Of course he’d known Stiles' mom had died but Stiles hadn’t told him when.

“I hadn’t even realized I was singing.” He raises his hand to his face, fingers tapping gently across his bottom lip. “My heart was broken and it came out through my lips. I knew the rules but it hurt so badly.” He swallows around the lump that has been growing in his throat. He remembers it. He remembers how it felt. How broken and hurt he’d been. It had hurt to even breathe and he was bursting with the need to release the pain that had taken root in his chest.

“I felt it when you got stuck in my song and I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid and my mom was gone, so who could I ask? I was alone so I just ran.”

After a moment Derek leaves his perch at the sink moving over to where Stiles was. Hovering closely, close enough that Stiles could feel the warmth of Derek's body on his own.

“I’m sorry I left you there.” Stiles says what he has always wanted to say. He remembers Derek’s blank face. He remembers Derek’s confused and questioning look as Deaton had rushed him from the room after Stiles' hook was gone. He blinks against the tears welling up in his eyes at the pain of talking about his mom or at the relief at finally being able to apologize. Maybe a bit of both. “I’m really sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Derek says quietly. He reaches his hand up slowly enough that Stiles could move away if he wanted to.

He doesn’t and Derek's hand cups the side of his neck, thumb sliding along Stiles cheek bone removing an errant tear.

“If you were a human you would have died.” Stiles presses. It was a miracle he had been found in time at all.

“But I’m not, and I didn’t, so we’re okay.”

“Are we?” Stiles asks in a hushed voice.

It doesn’t solve the greater problem of how the Hales think of him, or how dismissed and hurt he’d felt by Laura earlier in the store, but a part of him that had been cracked since that day in the woods mends as Derek smiles softly and whispers, “I think so.”

The kettle whistles and Derek pulls his hand away, reaching behind Stiles to pull it off the burner keeping close as he does.

“I’m sorry about Laura.” Derek says as he fills their tea mugs. “I can talk to her.”

“No, it’s alright.” He shakes his head slightly. Talking to Laura means admitting where Derek has been spending his time and that would not go over well. “It's fine,” he affirms. They are standing so closely he can feel his hair brushing against Derek's.

“It really isn’t.” Derek argues. “You have every right to wave at Cordelia, to be in the store without her bothering you.”

Stiles can see him thinking and waits for his thought to finish.

Eventually he asks, “is that why you live so far from town? Because of my family?”

“It’s not just your family Derek. There are plenty of people who think I am dangerous.”

Dereks brows are pinched in a firm frown. “Because of me. Because people think you tried to kill me.”

Stiles thinks about it for a minute. “None of that was your fault. You didn’t tell people I tried to kill you. You didn’t antagonize and threaten me like the others did.”

It should have been obvious before but for all the bull everyone else, especially the crap Derek's sisters had pulled, Derek had always left him alone. He’d watched him but thinking back it was more curious than cautious.

“I didn’t know how to make them stop so I just didn’t try.”

“It wasn’t your place to stop them. You were a kid too.” He means it. After spending months with the man he knows Derek wouldn't hurt anyone. It isn’t who he is. If there is anything he’s learned about Derek is that he is kind, gentle, endlessly patient with his child and thoughtful when it comes to Stiles.

When Derek moves Stiles follows him to the couch and they both sit in the middle leaning slightly into each others shoulder.

“My mom,” Derek says slowly like he is still forming the thought, “I think my mom was just scared and lashed out because it was something beyond her control.”

“My dad was scared too.” Stiles admits. He blows over the top of his mug watching the steam swirl and disperse. “He just lost my mom and yours was threatening to take me away.”

“She’s the Alpha. Her word is law and the others just follow her lead. She was probably too embarrassed to fix the situation after I was alright and too stubborn to apologize.”

Stiles gets that. He’s been too embarrassed to apologize before. It doesn’t make it right, not any of it, but it makes some amount of sense.

“You’ve always sung so beautifully.” Derek admits quietly and painfully shy. His cheeks flush red that travels all the way to the tips of his ears as he all but whispers, “I’d think about your voice sometimes when I couldn’t sleep. I’d think about you singing to me.”

“Yeah?” Stile's heart flutters fast. He doesn’t care if Derek can hear it.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes.

An unending pile of toys, a stack of diapers and wipes, bibs and burp cloths, and a bunch of thick cardboard baby books are now permanent fixtures in Stiles' home, as well as childish giggles and Derek’s laugh, which Stiles had never heard before.

He had seen Derek in school, they had been three grades apart, but he had never so much as talked to him after a whispered ‘sorry’ as Deaton had ushered Derek out of the room after he had unhooked him from his song, let alone heard his laugh.

After dinner they take turns washing her up and putting her to bed while the other one cleans up the mess of the evening. Stiles is a firm believer in bubble baths and splashing so the bathroom is usually a wreck when he’s in charge of her. He doesn’t mind at all.

When shes asleep they sit in the living room and have some tea or wine and they come down off the day in companionable calm. Some nights they catch up on shows, and Stiles refuses to think about how they have shows they watch together, and other nights Derek reads to him.

Every time Derek reads Stiles falls asleep on his shoulder or his leg. There is something about his voice that is soothing and rhythmic enough to make even a siren drift away.

They don’t know when Cordelia's birthday is because she was a pack home birth so they pick a Tuesday in September, the 14^th, because Stiles wanted cupcakes, and because why not? Everyone is covered in icing and bits of cake and Derek rubs her nose with his and Stiles feels happier than he has in a long time. They write her birthday on the door frame to the guest room she and Derek have been in for the last six months and Derek holds her up so Stiles can draw a line to see how tall she is. She is two and a half feet tall and Stiles feels more pride than he thinks he should.

It’s nice. It’s nice to have a friend. It’s nice to take care of Cordelia and splash bubbles everywhere with her while she takes a bath. It’s nice to spend the evening with someone else and not alone.

And he has to admit to himself he has an absolutely undeniable crush on Derek Hale.

“It’s going to be fine.” Stiles assures for the billionth time. “It’s two days. I can manage two days.” He doesn’t have the babysitting experience to be so confident but they’ve been doing this thing for almost eight months so he’s pretty sure they will be fine.

“I know I just,”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want to do it.” He cuts Derek off before he can go back into his spiral. He knows Derek can hear his heartbeat, knows that he is telling the truth, but he also understands why Derek is so worried about leaving Cordy for the weekend.

“If anything happens I will call your uncle, I promise.” He hates that they have a-if the hunters come looking for her-plan but unfortunately it's a precaution they need to take for Derek to feel safe and they agreed that calling Derek's Uncle is better than calling his mom because Talia would probably just kill him and Derek is pretty sure that Peter wouldn’t.

She couldn’t stay with Laura because Laura was also going on this little weekend hunt and Derek wasn’t sure leaving her at the pack house with everyone was a good idea. He was convinced it wouldn’t go well even though they are her pack. Stiles still doesn't understand Dereks avoidance of them but apparently he is the only person she likes enough for Derek to even attempt to leave. He isn’t full up on the details but he knows Derek doesn’t really have the option of staying home.

Derek picks up Cordelia again nuzzling her neck with his face making her giggle. “You're going to have a great time with Stiles alright? Yeah, who's my Cordy girl? Is it you? Of course it is.”

It's terribly adorable and he wants to tease Derek for it but he can see how there is true worry etched in the rigidness of his back, the weight to his brows. He’s trying to reassure himself more than the toddler who is already trying to get back down to her toys on the floor.

Derek lets her go and then stands there looking lost for long enough that Stiles starts to feel sad and that's not going to work. Derek is a literal sad puppy and Stiles can hear the echoes of Sarah McLachlin playing hauntingly in the background of his mind.

“C’mere.” Stiles says pulling gently at Derek's elbow until he’s got him begrudgingly in the hall. He waits until Derek turns to look at him. “She's going to be okay.”

“I know.”

“No you don’t. This is the first time you are letting her out of your sight for more than a few hours and it’s understandable that you are worried.” He squeezes Derek's elbow tightly. “Any good parent would be worried.

“But when I say she's going to be okay I mean it. I take this whole babysitting for the weekend thing extremely seriously and I know how much her safety and happiness means to you. It's important to me too. I will send you a million pictures of our shenanigans and you can call me a million times because you know I like to talk.”

“You do.” Derek snorted but his shoulders had slumped just a bit down looking more human than worried cardboard cutout. He would take it as a win.

It takes two more reassurances and Cordelia getting upset that Derek's picked her up from her toys again before Stiles very gently, but resolutely, pushes him out the door.

“We’ll be fine, you're gonna be late. Text me when you get there.”

And with that Derek is finally off.

Four hours later he gets a short ‘made it’ and Stiles sends him back a picture of Cordy with her face covered in pasta sauce, gleeful and clearly doing just fine.

Stiles feels like he’s cheating at this whole baby sitting thing, because he really thought it would be harder for the two of them to survive the weekend. There were of course a few hiccups, a diaper explosion and a small bonk to the noggin, but as far as the rest of it everything went relatively smooth.

She’s been very into scooting backwards on her hands and knees. It’s a crawl of sorts, a baby moon walk if you will, trying to move forward but only going back. It was especially fun when he also got on all fours and stalked her as she scooted around.

The first night she got a little fussy after dinner and while he didn’t speak baby very well he knew what she was like when she was looking for Derek. A little hook, a little song, some memories of Derek snuggling her close and she calmed right down.

The second night they fell asleep snuggled up on the couch while Stiles was trying to watch a show.

Overall not so bad.

Derek rolls in looking like he hadn’t slept since he left them on Friday and smelling like he had, pardon the dog joke, rolled in something gross.

Even Cordelia, who was obviously happy to see him, got one sniff and turned into Stiles' shoulder to shield her nose. When Derek reaches for the screen door Stiles hand shoots out to hold it shut.

“Dude, you need to shower immediately.”

Derek's eyebrows turned downward in a new way that Stiles hadn’t seen before. Something north of murderous and east of threatening.

His hold on the handle remains firm.

“I mean it. I don’t know what you got into but walk straight into the bathroom and shower it off.”

The brows turned darker.

“Towels are in the cabinet under the sink.” He says like Derek doesn’t already know that.

Derek attempted something of a growl.

“I could hose you off if that would be better?” He offers.

Stiles holds Derek's attempt at a menacing gaze until the man sighs defeated and spits a tired, “fine.”

“I'll make dinner.” He lets go of the handle.

Derek, practicing some sort of restraint, does not rip the door off the hinges. Stiles holds out Cordelia at arms length for him to kiss as he walks by, but after that he is obedient and heads straight to the bathroom.

Stiles opens all of the windows and goes to find something to make for dinner.

Derek emerges from the bathroom all freshly cleaned pink skin and relaxed gait. Cordelia’s doing her best at squishing green beans between her fingers instead of eating them and Stiles had been able to make grilled ham and cheeses’ and microwave some tomato soup.

“It's not the healthiest but it's something.”

“It smells great.” Derek comments passing behind Stiles to drop a kiss on Cordelia's head. She nearly gets him with green bean mush. Her aim has been getting better.

“You smell great.” Stiles says and then immediately regretted it.

“I smell like you.” Derek says back before Stiles can die of embarrassment.

“Well anything smells better than you did. Eat your soup.” He snarks, willing his face to cool off. “How was the trip?”

“Successful, and smelly.”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Wendigo.” Derek said around a mouthful of his sandwich.

“That would do it. All that rotting flesh and what not. Surprised you weren’t throwing up at yourself.”

He shrugs. “Eventually you can tune it out.”

Derek doesn’t put Cordelia down for bed when she falls asleep instead letting her lay on his chest as he lounges on the couch. He looks tired, but a different tired from the way he used to show up at Stiles' door.

“Was she good for you?” Derek asks, eyes sliding open to look at him. He looks so comfortable.

“Of course. She was a perfect partner in crime.”

“You better not have been committing crimes.”

“She’s a minor, first offense. I think the courts will go easy on her.”

He sits down at the other end of the couch putting his feet up across the middle cushion. His feet butt up against Derek's thigh and he goes to move them when Derek's hand wraps around his ankle squeezing lightly, holding him in place.

“Thank you.” He says. His eyes are closed again. “I was able to focus on the task at hand because I knew she was safe. It made being gone easier.”

“Of course.” Stiles says.

“You make this easier, you know. All of it. I couldn’t have done this without your help. You’re-you’re amazing.”

Stiles doesn’t push or refute him, he can tell Derek's barely awake, but his heart swells. Derek's hand on his ankle is warm and soft and it sends chills over his body. When Derek starts to snore lightly Stiles smiles and whispers, “you’re pretty amazing too.”

He will admit later that just staring frozen down at a crying child covered in her own puke and doing absolutely nothing to comfort her was not one of his finer moments. But like, it wasn’t baby spit up that came out of her, it was mostly the breakfast she hadn’t been too interested in eating spilled down her front and Stiles had no idea what to do about it.

Luckily Derek comes in takes one look at them and rolls his eyes. Stiles stays where he is and watches Derek come over, take off her shirt and use the backside as a rag to wipe spittle and puke off her face. Once she's cleaned to his satisfaction he scoops her up before turning to address Stiles.

“Aversion to vomit?”

“No.”

Derek gives him a dubious look.

“She’s sick.”

“Yeah.” Derek says like its obvious. “She was fussy through the night, she must have caught the stomach bug going around.”

“Stomach bug.”

Derek gives him a look like he isn’t sure if Stiles is stupid or having a stroke.

“I didn’t know werewolves caught stomach bugs.”

For that he gets a set of rolled eyes.

“Excuse me, this is my first crash course into hanging out with tiny werewolf people. You need to grade me on a curve.”

Cordelia is still sniffling and Stiles feels a pang of sympathy run through him. He reaches out and runs his fingers over her back. “Little miss thing not feeling too hot today.”

Her back is warm, a little warmer than it usually is. She turns her head until her cheek is pressed against Derek’s shirt, her watery red eyes seeking him out.

Stiles cleans up the high chair while Derek pops her in a quick bath and has almost made it out the door when she throws up again all over Derek. Its between her pitiful crying and Derek clearly being irritated but not taking it out on his child who definitely didn’t throw up on him on purpose, Stiles can see him having that conversation in his head played out in the micro movements in his face and the tick in his jaw, that Stiles has the idea and commits to the idea and then says out loud, “why don’t you leave her with me.”

The look Derek turns on him is dubious at best.

“I’m serious. She and I can snuggle and watch cartoons all day and then she doesn’t have to spend hours in the car when she already doesn't feel well, possibly causing your seats irreparable smell damage.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He says, because really, shes spent the weekend already and they survived that, having a stomach ache shouldn’t make it that terrible.

It was, in fact, much more terrible. Watching a baby for the weekend when they were happy and well was a whole different ball park then when they were sick and crying and miserable. After the third time she was sick on herself Stiles just stopped trying to put her in clean clothes and just left her diaper and sock covered. The cartoons were of no interest to her and she didn’t want to be put down at all which meant most of his shirt was caked in some amount of baby yuck and he chose to ignore it as a way of coping.

Even hooking her hadn’t worked very well. It calmed her for a bit but the next time she got sick it was so jarring and he isn’t sure but his best guess is that feeling better and then getting worse all of a sudden couldn’t be that comfortable.

One thing that was working was walking her around and talking. Just talking about anything and everything and Stiles was pretty good at that.

He was in the middle of telling her about the history of the log flume ride when a knock at the door pulled his attention.

Ms. Linda Crabshaw had a standing appointment every 2^nd and 4^th Thursday of the month and it still took her voice calling through the door for him to remember her appointment and the fact that he had a whole ass job he had to do today.

“I am so sorry. It’s been a heck of a morning. Please, come in.”

She came through the door and set her bag next to the door. “It seems like it.”

Stiles looked around and yeah, in his attempt to figure out what would make Cordelia feel better, or at least distract her from being ill, he’d made a mess of, well, everything.

He opened his mouth to apologize but she waved him off. “It's a home dear, it’s supposed to be lived in. Now,” she leaned in a bit to get a look at Cordelia, “who is this?”

For the moment Cordelia was content to just be interested in the new person - hallelujah.

Stiles turned so they could see each other. “This is Cordelia.”

“Oh,” a beat passed. “Cordelia Hale?”

“Yeah. She’s…” he didn’t have a good end to that sentence. She wasn’t technically his client but he didn’t have a good reason for her to be here at all. “She wasn’t feeling well today so she’s hanging out with me.”

“That’s nice of you.”

He’s about to say something to the effect of ‘it’s not a big deal’ when Cordelia's stomach decides it's time to make itself known to the world and she throws up again.

“Oh god.” Stiles spits darting forward for one of the dishtowels left over the couch arm. The one he grabs was still wet, but not too wet and certainly better than nothing.

“I’m so sorry.” He apologizes wiping Cordelia down and then himself. “She’s been sick all, which I didn’t even know was a thing werewolf children had to deal with, and shes so sad which is making me sad, but if you give me a minute I can get her cleaned up and calmed down and we should be good to go, so just one second.”

He ducks quickly down the hall to the guest room and gets her out one of the last clean outfits left. He wipes her down with a crazy amount of baby wipes and gets her dressed and while shes sniffling a little bit she seems calmer. This last round of vomit was over an hour from the last and mostly clear so he is taking a bet on it being mostly over.

“Your belly feel a little better?” Twirling his fingers over her face. “Sometimes we just need to get all the yucky out.”

She gives him the first real smile of the day and reaches up for his hand.

“There’s my smiley girl.”

He stops n the bathroom grabbing what was left of the clean hand towels not in use and made a mental note to do the laundry if he got a moment, but first Ms. Linda.

He found her in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s not a worry,” she smiled. “Though, why don’t you let me hold little Ms. Hale while you go fetch yourself a clean shirt.”

Stiles looked down and saw that, disgustingly, his shirt was more baby barf than t-shirt. “Wow...thats gross. Ew.”

Linda stepped forward and easily scooped Cordelia onto her own chest in a practiced move. “Go on, and check that spot of your hair next to your ear. We’ll be fine out here for a moment.”

Cordelia doesn’t look like she's about to explode into tears or vomit on Ms. Linda so he does as she says ducking back into his bedroom. The shirt he pulls from the floor is certainly cleaner than the current one, God he has to get better at regular laundry doing, and when he gets in front of the bathroom mirror he finds crusted vomit in his hair. He gives himself a rough wash in the sink to avoid throwing up on his own self.

It's still quiet when he comes back out. Linda has settled into his armed chair in the living room blowing across her tea, with a finally asleep Cordelia.”

“You magician.” Stiles whispers in awe.

Linda smiles, eyes rolling fondly. “I’m an Aunt of seven. I’ve had near unlimited practice especially with little sick ones. Have you eaten? Why don’t you grab something while she rests.”

Stiles doesn’t have it in him to argue, to hungry to say no. “Thank you. Can I get your anything?”

“I’ll be fine with the tea.”

Stiles makes a sandwich and dumps what's left of a BBQ chip bag onto a plate before joining Linda in the living room again. He plops onto the floor criss-crossing his legs to make a place for his plate to sit and he takes a Scooby-doo sized bite of his sandwich and groans. He hadn’t even realized it was so late in the day. He was famished.

“Sick babies make the world seem so cruel.” Linda says quietly. “It isn’t fair to feel so unwell without being able to understand why.”

That’s a sentiment that Stiles can agree with.

“I’m glad shes sleeping.” Stiles says around a mouthful of sandwich. “She hasn’t napped all day.”

“My youngest nephew, Tommy, he had terrible ear infections. For weeks at a time he would just cry and cry. My sister had the other six and my schedule was flexible so I would stay over with him at night so she could rest. I couldn’t do much, but I could at least hold him while he cried.” She looked over Cordelia's head. “It’s important enough to just be a safe place to cry when needed.”

Linda was one of his therapy clients, his second longest. He’s knew exactly why she felt that way.

When Stiles finished his lunch he offered to take her back.

“Why don’t you let me keep her. All my sisters children are past the age of a good snuggle, I’m deficient.”

She holds Cordelia for two hrs while they talk in hushed gentle tones and Stiles picks up the house and throws laundry in. When Cordelia eventually rouses much happier and hungry Stiles thanks Linda and tries to reschedule their session.

“Having a good snuggle is a balm for many woes. I'll see you at my next appointment. Tell your young man I said hello.”

“He’s not my-” He starts, flustered. He can feel how hot his cheeks are.

She cuts him off with a cherry goodbye.

Derek gets home early than he usually does and seems surprised that the house is still standing. Stiles doesn’t take offense because had Linda not been a literal angel then the house would have been a wreck.

“How is she?” He asks toeing off his shoes at the door and looking her over.

“She’s still a little warm but seems to be doing better. She hasn’t thrown up since one? One-thirty? So I think she's over the hump.”

She passes to Derek easily. They scent mark each other and Derek sighs. “Thank you for keeping her.”

“Of course.” Stiles watches the two of them, Derek relaxing as Cordelia pats at his face and is in obvious better spirits than when he had left that morning.

“I forgot that Linda Crabshaw had an appointment today. She has like a million niblings and was able to Jedi mind trick her into finally falling asleep and she slept for two hours. Linda says hi.”

Derek kinda freezes for a second and tries, yet fails, to school the features on his face, which seem to be displaying some sort of fear or unease.

“Relax,” Stiles chuckles. “I told her Cordelia is kind of a client. You don’t have to worry about her telling anyone that you were here.”

“You just told me she was your client.”

“Yeah but she told me to tell you she said hi. Obviously she’s okay with you knowing.”

Stiles sits down next the basket of now clean clothes and towels and starts to fold them. He through a few things when he feels Derek looking at him and yup, that’s a pinched stare.

“What?”

His lips pursed together and Stiles can see him trying to formulate the thought he’s working on.

“What?” Stiles says again.

“Would you care if people knew we were here? That we’re friends?”

He sets down the pajama pants he was folding. They have bears on them that are having a tea party. When Cordelia is wearing them he tells her stories about the bears and he’s been thinking about getting a tea set so they can have their own tea parties.

“I don’t know. People would think you’re nuts for hanging out with me. I'd for sure get accused of putting you under some kind of Siren thrall. It probably isn’t worth the trouble.” Stiles snorts. “I mean, look at what happened with Laura. Could you imagine if she knew you were hanging out with me, willingly? Nightmare fuel.”

Derek purses his lips, anger clouding his face and Stiles is worried that he's said the wrong thing, like maybe bringing Laura into it is too far, but before he can walk it back Derek says, “this whole thing is so stupid. I wish people would fucking leave you alone.”

Dereks eyebrows reach towards his hairline, like he is shocked at what came out of his mouth even though he said it, and then turns and walks away.

Stiles, having no idea what to do with that little outburst but feeling kind of warm and gooey inside, goes back to folding the laundry.

Cordy has been saying more and more words. Stiles is amazed at how she is learning to construct thoughts. Her arsenal of words is small but she makes do and for having no experience with children Stiles is proud of himself for how much he understands her. It helps that she has picked up on Derek's facial expressions, and while she doesn’t have the standard Hale brow she makes due just fine. She can say Dada for Derek, Ty-o for Stiles, because S’s and L’s are just too hard for little mouths, Oura for Laura, ooice for juice, and me-mo for Elmo. Of course she could say Elmo. She loved that stupid puppet so much and Stiles was sick of hearing him sing.

Still he encouraged her word growth by playing sesame street songs all the time and talking to her as much as he could, which honestly wasn’t hard for him he was known to be able to talk to a wall. She had been alternating between baby babel, her few choice words, and grunting angrily when he didn't understand whatever she was trying to tell him with her limited vocabulary.

He tries not to laugh, because she is trying to communicate, but one has to find hilarity in this stage of development or they will go insane.

She’d been happily playing with blocks for a while, knocking down every tower Stiles tried to build with glee, when she turned to him, arms reaching up in a universal ‘pick me up’ motion before demanding, “Dada,” rather emphatically.

“Um, no.” Stiles tells her. “Dada is making dinner and I don’t know about you, but I am very hungry and I don’t want him to be distracted.”

She does not share his logic.

“Dada.” She demands with tiny hands raised, fingers flexing in the air demanding to be picked up.

Stiles continues to try and distract her with other toys and books to no avail and after a few minutes pass with no deterrence, and the arrival of some pretty impressive watery puppy eyes, Stiles caves to her demands because he hates when she cries.

“Okay girlie,” he says, scooping her off of the floor. “Let's go get Dada.”

Happy with her demands being met she curls into him.

Derek is dumping broccoli into the skillet when they come in. “She’s been asking for you and she is being quite insistent.” He says as he passes her to Derek.

Cordelia, however, is not amused and her fussing starts up again.

“Hey.” Derek soothes. “What's wrong?” He bounces her on his arm while poking at the skillet with the other.

She isn't soothed by being with Derek like he thought. Instead she reaches over his arm making grabby hands at Stiles. “Dada.” Her insistence is growing and her frustration is evident.

“Dada.” She squeals trying to get out of Derek's arms. “Dada Ty-o. Dada Ty-o.”

Stiles feels the ground fall out from under him and he watches as Derek’s whole body becomes one tight line.

Cordelia continues to struggle against Derek while calling for him with her small arms stretched out towards him, and Stiles fights to breathe around the weight growing in his chest and throat.

“I think she means you.” Derek says slowly, eyebrows in his hairline. He holds her out towards Stiles.

She stops crying the second Stiles takes her back in his arms. He couldn’t deny her, her little arms and chubby fingers slapping against his cheek and she giggled. Her hand reaches up and her fingers fold around his ear pulling lightly and oh god, she’s scent marking him. Shes done this to him so many times but he hadn’t realized.

“Dada Ty-o.” She says again, almost triumphant.

He can’t look up at Derek. He doesn’t want to see his face. Instead he gives Cordelia the best smile he can muster around the mix of elation and bile rolling in his stomach and says, “hey baby,” before fleeing the kitchen without so much as a glance back.

They don’t talk about it over dinner. There is rice involved so Stiles spends most of the meal just trying to keep it in her mouth or on the tray. He takes extra time getting her ready for bed that night. He lets her play in the bath longer than she normally does, and he lets her splash him as much as she wants, which she loves. He commits her laughter to memory the best he can.

He holds onto her long after she has gone to sleep, swaying back and forth in the dark bedroom and when he lays her in the crib he stands there for a bit just watching the rise and fall of her back. Quietly, when he cant put it off any longer, he slips out of the room, heart aching at the sound of the door clicking shut. It sounds like finality.

He feels so stupid. Playing house with Derek Hale and ignoring any sense of reason was never going to end any differently. It was never going to end without him getting hurt. He wasn’t going to keep either of them and he had known that. Deep down he’d known this wasn’t going to last and now it was ending right in front of him, and he couldn’t stop it.

Cordy doesn’t need him anymore. She’s finally formed new pack bonds with Derek and tentative ones with his pack. Her emotional wounds are well on their way to healing. He hadn’t needed to hook her in months. The relief that Stiles provided was no longer necessary and all that was left was for him to let go of them.

Derek with his stupid eyebrows and adorable bunny teeth. Derek who, unlike the rest of his family, found Stiles's voice beautiful and his jokes witty. They were friends now, but it was clear by Cordelia’s confusion that they had been spending too much time together. They practically lived at his house during the week. Whatever bond Stiles felt as a siren, whatever song held him to Cordelia must be that of his thrall, and Derek must be so, so mad. His wolf must be angry, at least at the overstepping of Stiles' bounds, but it wasn’t as if he had meant for it to happen. It was just so easy to love her.

And god, Derek. He can’t imagine going back to being enemies with Derek again. To being nothing with Derek. To not having him in his home, in his life, making breakfast barefoot in the kitchen like he belonged there, stolen evenings together like it would last forever. It couldn’t.

Stiles takes in a breath and pushes it out as he leaves the hall and makes his way to Derek who is sitting on the couch reading a book. Stiles takes him in for a moment. To anyone observing him he would seem relaxed, hell he even has a glass of wine on the coffee table to complete the look, but Stiles can see the way his shoulders are tense. The muscles in his neck held stiffly and Stiles can tell he isn’t actually reading over any of the words on the page.

There is a second glass of wine on the table that Stiles assumes is for him, but he stays in the doorway to the kitchen.

“It’s probably for the best if you stop coming over.” Stiles wills his voice to remain steady, though his heart refuses to cooperate jumping all over the place. “It isn’t fair of us to confuse her like this.”

Derek closes the book and sets it on his lap. His eyes stay on it and when it’s clear that he isn’t going to offer anything into the conversation Stiles continues.

“It will hurt less if we do it now instead of later.” It hurt plenty enough as it was.

Derek’s jaw clenches a few times before he speaks. “Hurt less for her or for you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it? Because it feels like you’re pushing her away because you’re scared.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“You should have said something before she became too attached.” Derek grits.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Stiles spits.”What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t going to turn her away when she needed me. But she doesn’t need me anymore.” Stiles' eyes grow hot and he blinks against it. “She hasn’t needed me in weeks Derek. And I don’t get to keep her or-” he cuts himself off scrubbing a hand over his face furiously. “She already lost so many people. It isn’t fair for her to be confused about me when I don’t get to be a part of her life.”

“Why don’t you get to be a part of her life?”

Stiles wants to scream. “Derek, you are her father. I’m just a guy that helped her sleep and she doesn’t need me anymore.”

“What are you talking about? You are more than that.” Derek snarls. “You know you are more than that. She doesn’t need you to sing to her anymore but she relies on you. She trusts you.” Derek’s voice is defiant.

“She has you for all of that. You are a great dad Derek.”

“What about me? What if I need you?”

“What?”

Derek shifts, his legs moving down to the floor and he turns away from Stiles. “I know she doesn’t need you to sing her to sleep anymore, but we like being here with you. I like being with you. I couldn’t have done this without you, and I don’t want to.”

“Derek, she thinks I'm her other Dad.”

“So what?”

“So what? I don’t get to keep her Derek!” Stiles yells. He breathes out his frustration in one long exhale trying to calm himself as much as he can. He doesn’t want to wake Cordelia. Softer he continues. “She isn’t mine to keep. It isn’t fair to confuse her like this. What's going to happen when you find someone who doesn’t like that she thinks I am her Dad too?”

Derek stands abruptly moving deftly around the couch stalking over to where Stiles is still hiding in the door frame. His face is lit with frustration, brown pulled sharply down as he glares at Stiles. “You would rather push us away because of a potential relationship you’ve decided I might have in the future instead of being with us now.”

“What do you want from me Derek? I can’t be your stand-in co-parent waiting for the day I get replaced.”

“Stiles!” Derek groans with heavy exasperation. “I want to co-parent with you. I want to be with you. We keep coming here because we like spending time with you. God, I like spending time with you. I want to be here with you. I thought you knew that.”

“I’m a siren.” Stiles says dumbly. “Your family hates me.”

“I don’t care about that!” Derek yells and Stiles is slightly concerned that he is going to wake Cordy, but there are other things that are more pressing at the moment.

“I almost killed you! You don’t care about that?”

“It was an accident.”

“But-”

“No!” Derek stops him. “I don’t care about any of that at all. I like you. I have always liked you. I spend all day thinking about you. Literally. The happiest part of my day is when we pull up and I can hear your heartbeat.”

At some point Derek has leaned in even closer towards Stiles' body. He can feel the hot breath of his anger across his face, the heat of his body through his own shirt. Stiles desperately wants to reach out and touch, to grab hold and never let go. Somehow he finds the strength to keep his arms railed at his sides.

“What do you want from me Derek?”

Derek growls and breaches the space between them and grabs Stiles' arms fiercely, pulling him the rest of the way until their bodies are flush together. Derek's lips on his own effectively shattered all of Stiles' best built reservations.

“Be with me.” Derek speaks against Stiles' spit slick lips when then come up for air. Derek’s hands still firm, sure, on his face. “I want to be with you.”

And Stiles really can’t argue with that.

“Okay.” Stiles breathes for a second, eyes flicking up to meet Dereks. “Yeah, that sounds amazing.”

“Good.” Derek says before pulling him back in.

Derek doesn’t sleep in the guest room that night.

Derek doesn’t sleep in the guest room ever again.

Dating Derek Hale is so much better than being friends with him. On the one hand not much changes. They still spend most of the week together playing house with a toddler and sticking to the routine they’d built. They’d basically been soft dating for months as it was.

On the other hand Stiles hadn’t had any dating experience. He was worried about being too inexperienced and awkward, which he was. The whole of his relationship experience boiled down to one night kissing practice with Scott when they were 13, which they had vowed never to speak of again, and two one night stands that he really would never discuss again.

Derek didn’t seem to mind. He said he didn’t have that much to go off of himself, just one failed relationship he didn’t go into detail about and Stiles didn’t push.

So while most of the days stayed the same, the nights were amazing. Exhausting. Mind blowing. Derek acted like it was his job to make Stiles cum and he wanted to be an exemplary employee. Every bit of sex Stiles hadn’t had in high school and beyond was being made up for in spades. He wasn’t sure if it was a werewolf thing or a Derek thing but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He didn’t know he could be so happy and tired at the same time.

He almost fell asleep meeting with a client. It’s ridiculous. He has so many new feelings bouncing around in his chest like every teenage rom-com warned about. Like butterflies and rainbows and shit. His face always had some sort of goofy grin plastered on it and he knew that only because his face hurt.

Cordelia keeps calling him Dada Ty-o and every time she does Derek smiles so Stiles figures he doesn’t mind. Whether or not they are moving too fast he couldn’t say but it feels right.

Dereks hands are constantly on him. Gentle squeezes on his arm, hands on his hips when he passes by, rubbing his feet, his back, anything he can get his hands on and its almost overwhelming but brilliant all the same.

Dereks stuff moves out of the spare room, Cordelia gets her own room, and Stiles suddenly has his very own little family.

He’s doing some scheduling on the computer after Cordy’s in bed, feet propped up in Derek's lap, which Derek is so awesomely rubbing, as he watches basketball. Stiles couldn’t tell you a team that wasn’t mentioned in Space Jam but Derek isn’t a yell at the screen sort of guy so he can endure it.

“Laura wants to know who Dada Ty-o is.” Derek says, switching to Stiles' other foot. Foot rubs were such an awesome perk of dating Derek Hale.

Stiles groans. So far they have been able to live in their tiny world unbothered by anyone else. No unsupportive family. No invasive questions. Just pure honeymoon stage bliss.

“Goodness we are screwed when she can make L and S sounds. What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.” Derek shrugs. “I told her to mind her business.”

Stiles scrunches his toes when Derek kisses the bottom of his foot. He’s not gonna yuck Derek’s yum but if that tongue ever touches one bit of his feet he may have to revise his feelings of that particular policy.

“Well, we have options.” Derek offers. “We can wait until Cordelia can say your name and we can let her tell everyone.”

Stiles snorts. “We aren’t using her as a shield.”

“She wouldn’t remember.” Derek levels.

“But we would. We have to have some dignity and ownership here.”

“I know.” Derek sighs and lets his head fall back over the top of the couch. “Everyone is going to be so annoying about it though. And I like what we have right now. No family drama. No prying. Just the three of us.”

Stiles sets the computer aside and pulls his foot from Derek’s hands. He moves over towards Derek and swings his leg over to straddle his lap. He nips at Derek’s jaw causing him to huff a laugh.

“I like just the three of us too.” Stiles agrees. He slides his hand down the flank of Derek's side and squeezes lightly. “I certainly like having you all to myself for sure.”

Derek shifts his legs open for Stiles to fit snug between them, hands coming down to rest on Stiles hips. “So we are in agreement to never say anything?”

“No.” Stiles chuckles. “As I was saying I like having you all to myself, but I wouldn't mind sharing you. As much as our families are going to need to warm up to us, we are a little family now. The three of us can’t be an island. You both need your pack, your alpha, and once we get past the drama I think I would like-” He feels his throat tighten and he ducks his head down into the soft skin of Derek’s neck leaving a gentle kiss there.

“What is it?” Derek prompts.

Stiles waits a moment gathering his thoughts. “It’s just been my dad and I, and Scott and his mom for so long, and that's been fine, but I’ve always thought it would be nice to be part of a big family.” He hugs Derek a little bit tighter. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“There is a lot about having a big family that is,” Derek pauses in search of a word, “infuriating. But there are so many benefits to having that many people in your corner. My family hasn’t put their best foot forward but I know that you would fit in with them if given the chance.”

“Well we have to convince everyone to like me first, but if we can do that I think it would be nice, you know?”

He goes when Derek pulls him back until they are looking into each other's eyes. “I think that we will be able to do that. You are wonderful and they will be able to see that. And on the off chance that they don’t we can adopt like five dogs and some cats, maybe a ferret and at least two more kids and make our own big family.”

“That is one goat short of a farm.”

“If you need a goat to be happy we can get one of those too, but I don’t think we will need to resort to extremes. If they can’t see how much I love you and accept you on that alone then I won't have a problem building something brand new with you.”

“You love me, huh?”

Stiles watches Derek’s cheeks grow hot in embarrassment, mirroring his own.

“I do.”

Stiles' lips pull back from his teeth until his smile is taking up most of his face, and Derek relaxes beneath him.

“I love you.” Derek says again with conviction.

“Can we adopt more kids even if your family likes me?” Stiles can feel the rumble of Derek’s laugh in his own chest.

“Yes, I would hope so.”

“And you don’t think we are moving too fast?”

“No.” Derek shakes his head. “Let’s not get married tomorrow or anything. Someday, but not tomorrow. But I know that I love you and I want to be with you, so I don’t think it's too fast.”

Stiles can feel his heart beating happily in his chest and he tries, but fails, to keep himself from smiling like an idiot.

“Alright, here’s what's going to happen.” He leans down to rub his nose against Dereks. “We are going to take our clothes off, and you are going to fuck me stupid slow while we daydream about our future. I’m totally not going to obsess over you just admitting that you have thought about marrying me at some point in our future, but first,” Stiles cups Derek’s face between his hands, “I love you too. So much.”

“Yeah?” Derek smiles so wide that Stiles' cheeks hurt.

“Yeah.”

Dinner had, surprisingly for once, been a non-messy affair. Cordy was getting some control over her thumbs and they had learned that while spaghetti sauce was their enemy, plain noodles were their friend. Cleanup had been fast and she was out of the bath and nearly ready for bed and Stiles was convinced they were going to finally get to start the Snyder cut tonight when she went down.

“Someone’s here,” Derek says, coming out of Cordelia's room and shattering Stiles evening plans. He is never going to get to watch the Snyder cut

Cordy is in a new set of pajamas that has little narwhals in sailor caps on it that Stiles thought were adorable and Derek thought were tacky. But Derek clearly didn’t know anything about baby fashion so Stiles won that argument and she absolutely looked adorable in them.

“I’m not expecting anyone.” He frowns. People don’t come to see him this late unless its an emergency like Derek with Cordelia. At least that one turned out right.

He hears a car park and he gets up to go look but before he gets to the door it’s being pushed open and Scott comes in, mouth already open in an excitable rant.

“Dude, I was having dinner with Kira and she said something so ridiculous and I was laughing and I thought ‘I’m going to marry her’. Like I am totally going to marry her. But now I am freaking out because I’m an adult. Like those are adult thoughts. I want to be a married man, a good husband, and like I wanna have a bunch of kids with her and get a minivan and shit.” Scott throws his hands up in the air. He hasn’t even made eye contact with Stiles since he burst in, nor has he noticed that there are two other people there. He’s a pretty terrible werewolf, he always has been.

His hands go from over his head to fisting in his hair and then back to waving around erratically.

“I’m twenty four! Isn’t that too young or something to be that adult?”

“Scott,” Stiles tries cutting in but he keeps on rambling. He’s pacing back and forth in front of the couch watching the carpet as he does.

“But I am seriously all in. I like love, love her. I even want a wedding and everything. I didn’t think I’d ever want to get married after my parents but like I want everybody to know I love her, is that crazy? I’m being crazy. I don’t care if it's crazy, I want to be Mr. Yukimura.” He gasps coming to a stop. “Dude,” he spins around quickly and reaches forward, taking one of Stiles' arms. “Will you be my best man?”

Stiles feels the loud laugh bubbling out of his throat. “Of course I will. But Seriously. Take a breath.”

Scott breathes in deep, his nostrils flaring slightly as he does. Then they go wider, along with his eyes.

“Scott wait,” Stiles starts as Scotts head whips around to where Derek is standing in the door to the hallway with Cordelia.

“What is he doing here?” Scott growls and Stiles doesn’t even have time to protest before he finds himself swept behind Scott in a defensive position.

Much to Stiles' amusement, Cordelia growls back at him. She’s been working on her growls.

It throws Scott of his balance and he tips his head curiously to the side.

“Oh my god.” Stiles slaps Scott hard on the back of the head. “The guy with the baby is super scary Scott. Thank you, but I think I can handle myself.”

“It’s Derek Hale.” Scott offers as if Stiles didn’t know.

“Yes Scott, I am aware.” Stiles gestures between all of them. “Derek, Scott. Scott, Derek. Scott, Cordelia. Cordy, Scotty. And I'm Javert.”

Derek gives a stilted wave. Cordelia gives a more exuberant wave. She's become very confident in her waving and Stiles is very proud.

“I don’t understand.” Scott says slowly, waving back at Cordelia.

“I know bud. I know.” Stiles moves past him with a pat on the shoulder and goes over to where Derek is. “Do you want to lay her down and then meet us in the kitchen?”

Derek nods. Stiles can see how tensely he is holding himself. How he has Cordelia held just a bit firmer than he normally does. It makes sense. Scott is going to be their first test. If this doesn’t go well maybe nothing else will.

“Hey,” Stiles says softly. He places his hand on Derek’s elbow, squeezing it tight. “It’s alright. We’re going to be alright. Okay?”

Derek nods.

“And you little miss,” Stiles leans in until his nose is pressed up against her chubby cheek. “You better go right to sleep, and sleep all night, and not wake me up before 8.”

She grabs hold of both of his ears and Derek chuckles.

“You know that’s not going to happen.” He gently pulls her back.

“A man can dream Der, a man can dream.” He kisses Cordelia goodnight before turning his attention back to Scott who is looking at Stiles with an expression that is clearly him trying to discern whether Stiles has been replaced by a pod person or not. Stiles snorts. “Come on man. Let’s get a drink.”

It’s been fifteen minutes and they’ve only accomplished talking in circles.

“And you are sure this isn’t some sort of scheme?” Scott asks again.

“What kind of scheme requires slow burn romance and child rearing?”

“I don’t know!” Scott huffs. “I just, it’s Derek Hale Stiles.” He keeps saying Derek's full name as if it's going to change the result. Like suddenly Stiles will realize that oh, that's the Derek Hale and head for the hills.

“They made our life,” he continues, “your life, shit in high school and beyond. I am allowed to be skeptical in light of all of that.”

Stiles blows a breath out of his puffed cheeks. “Alright, sure, fine.” He waves his hands in surrender. “I know they did, but think about it Scott. Derek never did any of that.”

Scott purses his lips and furrows his brow. “Okay yes, fine. He didn’t do anything directly, but Stiles.” He whines as if that is enough to make Stiles understand what he is trying to say. Even 100 years of friendship wouldn’t allow him to know what Scott is trying to convey at this moment.

Derek comes into the kitchen sitting down next to him and Scott tracks his movements with a painfully confused look that Stiles thinks is meant to be a glare. The eye roll he gives Scott is dramatic and necessary.

“Did she go down okay?”

“Yeah.” Derek says. His hand slides over Stiles' knee under the table. “Probably be up in an hour but for now she’s down.”

She was going through some sort of weird sleep regression where she would sleep for an hour or two and then be up for three and then back asleep for the rest of the night. It was the worst. It was messing with their sleep and their sexy times and was another reason they hadn’t watched the Snyder cut yet.

It was a sore spot for Stiles and his love of Jason Momoa.

“Well an hour is an hour.” He passes his glass to Derek squeezing his wrist gently before he gets up in search of another.

When he comes back Derek and Scott are stuck in some sort of staring contest. Derek looks as he normally does when he is trying to be intimidating, somewhere between constipated and angry, while Scott looks like a frustrated cute puppy, which is a nice way to say he is failing at his own intimidation tactics.

“Stop staring at each other.” Stiles demands sitting back down at the table. “You’re both bad at it and I’m not going to have my best friend and my boyfriend be enemies. I decry it so.”

Scott looks up at him with a little triumphant smirk. “What does your dad think about this?”

Straight for the big guns. Stiles shrugs.

“You didn’t tell him?” Scott sounds scandalized.

“Not yet.” Stiles resists the urge to shrug again.

“Stiles!” Scott barks out. “You’ve been dating for likes two months already! Your dad is going to flip out.”

“I am a whole ass adult Scott, he can deal with it.”

“He is going to ground you.”

“I don’t even live there!” Stiles yells.

“He’s still going to do it.” Scott yells back.

“Boys.” Derek interjects and they both turn to him.

“Scott, I am sorry for the way my family treated Stiles and you by association.” He says calmly. “I can’t make up for them but it wasn’t something that I wanted them to do either.” He looks at Stiles. “Scott's just worried for you because this seems sudden to him. He wasn’t aware that we were spending time together so of course he is concerned.”

Stiles turns, grinning at Derek. “Look at you being all smart and handsome.”

Scott snorts and Derek groans, both sounding fond.

“Scott, I love him. Like a lot. Like a lot a lot. And we are co-parenting a toddler. This isn't some passing thing. I am an adult, and like you I am shocked and semi appalled by it. But I am serious about us.”

“Serious as a heart attack?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I am risking giving my dad a heart attack so I think so.”

Scott looks quickly between the two of them, and when he finds whatever he is looking for he sits back in his seat. “Okay.” He shrugs and takes a drink from his glass.

“Okay?” Stiles repeats.

“Okay.” Scott affirms. “I believe you. And I'm with you.”

Stiles grins and after a moment dives across the table to grab Scott in a hug.

Derek goes to bed alone when it is clear that Stiles and Scott are going to stay up all night talking through the many proposal plans they can think up while playing video games and eating every spare crumb of snacks. “He is hopeless without me, Der.” Stiles tells him as he kisses Derek’s cheek as he makes his way to bed.

Derek rouses enough to feel Stiles' body rolling into his when the light is making its way into the day and briefly notes that Stiles had taken care of Cordy through the night and let him sleep.

Scott is unconscious and snoring on the couch and doesn't so much as twitch as Derek makes a full breakfast, gets Cordelia ready to go, and leaves through the front door right next to his head. Stiles hadn’t moved either when Derek kissed him on the forehead before leaving.

Scott is still there when Derek and Cordelia come home that afternoon. He and Stiles are sprawled on the couch screaming at the television as they gun each other down with paint in a game Derek has never even heard of.

“It's splatoon.” Stiles says when Derek asks.

“Watch Dada Ty-o paint things.” Derek says dropping Cordelia into Stiles' lap before venturing off to figure out dinner for the night. He’s pretty sure Stiles is existing on potato chips, twizzlers, and soda alone if the mess of wrappers and cans that Stiles and Scott are nestled in is anything to go by.

Scott loves Cordelia. Dinner isn’t even ready before he is professing himself to be her best Uncle and Cordelia really likes the attention. Apparently they had bonded over the night when she had been up. He insists on feeding her dinner so that they could continue to bond, and while it is evident he has never fed a toddler before his efforts are appreciated. Most of Cordy’s food lands on the floor, or on her shirt, and some into Scott's hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just tells her what a good girl she is and gushes over how cute he thinks she is with food all over her face.

“I wish you didn’t live so far out of town.” Scott says, not for the first time since Stiles had moved to the lake.

Stiles passes him another dish to dry. “I know. But it’s nice being away from all the ugh.”

He doesn't need to expand. Scott knows that ‘ugh’ just meant all the Hale drama that had plagued him since elementary school.

“It might be different now. I mean, you aren't going to hide from his family forever. Once you tell them, maybe you can move back to town.”

Stiles shrugs. “I hope it will be different. I don’t know about moving, but I really hope that it will be different.”

“Well when your Dad finds out he’s got a granddaughter to spoil you are going to be shit out of luck. He is going to pack you up himself.” He elbows Stiles a few times.

Stiles groans. “He’s going to be ridiculous.”

Scott leaves with a promise that no one but Kira will be told of this new development in Stiles' life. She was a transplant to Beacon Hills and hadn’t been involved in any of the Hale-Stilinski drama so she was as good a third party for Scott to divulge to. The guy was terrible at keeping secrets so letting him tell someone was the safest way to go.

“We have an ally at least.” Derek says as they watch Scott drive away.

“One down, like 50 to go.” Stiles sighs. “Scott was always going to be easy though. Should we do it that way? Make a list of the easiest-to our parents? That way we have an army of people who are okay with all this before battling our parents.” He gestures between them vaguely.

Stiles watches Derek think for a moment before he speaks. “If that’s how we want to do it I think my sister's dog is next on the list.”

Stiles huffs a laugh. “I love you.”

They don’t tell Laura’s dog next. They have several conversations about different ideas, some serious and some not, but ultimately they decide that whatever they do needs to happen after the Hale packs annual get together on the Pink Moon. It was the Hales biggest event of the year. Every member of the pack along with their families, pack-adjacent allies and invited guests would be at the Hale house and anytime leading up to that Talia would be too stressed to receive any news involving Stiles well. Stiles birthday was that week as well and it felt fitting to enter a new year with a clean conscious and all that.

It was nice that Scott knew. Stiles had been dying to talk to him about it the whole time and now that he could he did. A lot. Probably more than Scott wanted to know, but Scott was also oversharing about his relationship so it balanced out.

Stiles did some sleuthing and found out what kind of rings Kira was into thanks to his knowledge of pinterest. Luckily she hadn’t had made her ‘dream wedding’ board private, which probably had a lot to do with Scott not knowing what a pinterest was.

After watching a ton of links Scott had sent with proposal ideas, and shooting basically all of them down, they came up with a proposal that was both romantic and recording worthy. A win all around.

In exchange for Stiles' amazing and brilliant help, Scott demanded to watch Cordelia so that they could go on a real date. Not a date of netflix and candles in their living room, which was totally a kind of date, or picnics they had when the weather was nice, or the wine in the bathtub, basically not anything that took place within or on the property of Stiles' house or with their kid present.

It was exciting.

Derek was smiling and Stiles knew that he was being ridiculous, but he didn’t care. He felt like his skin was vibrating with excitement. He sang loudly with the radio and let one hand fly up and down in the wind as they drove. The other was laced with Derek’s on his thigh. Fingers sliding together and apart over and over, skin tingling at the slight touch.

Stiles had never been on a date before, not a real proper date. The two one night stands certainly did not qualify as dates. Not even bad ones.

He had a lot of ideas about what he would like to do. There was an actual list taped to the refrigerator of things they wanted to do together. Fifteen of the ideas were Stiles but Derek had a few of his own that were sickeningly cute. Things like painting pottery together, historic food tastings, and beer making.

So cute.

For this date, their first date, they decided on a classic. Dinner and a movie. Stiles had only ever been to the movies with Scott, and once with his mom and dad, and he hadn’t been to a movie in the theater in over five years. They found a movie they were both interested in and found a theater in Chester, an hour and a half away from Beacon Hills, and away from home. It was a lot of driving in one day for dinner and a movie but it was worth it to be able to relax and feel normal and not have to worry about running into anyone they knew.

They were also excited to eat a meal out together in a restaurant like real people. Chester was a small college town with a bunch of fun little restaurants to try. They settled on an Indian place with excellent reviews.

Having plans for dinner after the movie did not stop Stiles from getting popcorn, soda, and candy. “Derek, it's about the experience. Besides, you know me. I will be able to eat all of this and still have dinner. Dinner with apps and zerts.”

Derek snorts lightly. “Okay Tom.”

Stiles is about to launch into his Tom Haverford impression, but he slams into Derek's back instead. Popcorn spills over the top of the bucket littering the floor and he drops one of his candy boxes, but his coke is still safe.

“Der, what the hell?” He says, more sad than angry. Derek still hasn’t moved.

“Derek? What are you doing here?” A woman asks and Stiles peers over his shoulder to look at her.

He can feel his face lose all its color.

Derek’s younger sister is coming towards them and her eyes flick over Derek's shoulder and she sees him before he can duck his head and run away. Still he keeps his body mostly behind Derek’s because the man was broad and could protect his weak Siren flesh against the claws of his werewolf sister.

Hopefully.

A confused expression flits across her face before something like restrained irritation makes a home in her features. “Derek, hi. What are you doing here?”

“Watching a movie.”

His voice is clipped and guarded. Stiles doesn’t like that.

Cora is staring at him and Stiles has to hand it to her, she is barely restraining a glare. He chalks that up to her confusion.

“Cora, you remember Stiles? From School?” Derek offers as if she would have forgotten who Stiles was because they had graduated nearly six years ago, completely ignoring their little blood feud.

“Hey.” Stiles lifts his shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt at a wave. His hands were still full.

Derek bends and picks up the box of candy that had slid between his feet and worries it between his hands.

“Stiles.” Cora says his name slowly. He can see how the cogs in her brain are moving through her eyes and he sees the moment that they click into place.

Her eyes go wide and accusingly she spits, “you’re Dada Ty-o.” She turns her gaze to Derek searching his face for something. She turns back to Stiles, her eyes angry slits under trademark angry Hale eyebrows.

Derek pulls those off better than she is attempting too.

“What did you do to him?”

Stiles knew the question was coming. He knows that she isn’t going to be the last person to accuse him of forcing him under his thrall, enchanting Derek into being with him or some bullshit, but it still hurts. He opens his mouth to defend himself when Derek speaks.

“He’s my boyfriend Cora, he didn’t do anything to me.”

“Your boyfriend? You’re dating Stilinski.”

She makes his last name sound like a curse.

“I am.” He says confidently. “I have been for a while. As much as I love to see you and have you insult my boyfriend,” Derek continues, “what are you doing here?”

“It’s a movie theater.” Cora growls low at him. “I came to see a movie.”

“In Chester.”

“Yes, in Chester.” Cora says with slow annoyance. “Where my friend Isaac owns a coffee shop near the college. Where we have movie night every Wednesday because he doesn’t open on Thursdays. Things which you would know if you were ever home for more than an hour.”

Derek looks more than his trademark pissed self at the jibe. She keeps going.

“Derek, just because you don’t come home anymore doesn’t mean that the rest of us don’t talk. We didn’t even know you liked guys until your daughter mentioned Da-da ty-o to Laura.” She flicks a glance to Stiles. “We have been trying to figure out who you are for months now.”

Stiles makes an aborted attempt at some sort of ta-da motion while still holding a soda and the half of the popcorn that hasn’t met its end on the theater floor.

He feels triumphant when the corner of her lip ticks upward incrementally.

“Cora?” A man around Stiles' height with sandy brown curls and an adorable smile comes up behind her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just ran into my brother.” She purses her lips before adding, “and his...boyfriend.”

Isaac must miss her tone, like it pains her to say it, because he smiles brightly in greeting. “Oh hey! Nice to meet you. You must be Derek.” He reaches out for Derek, who reaches back on what Stiles can tell is autopilot, and shakes his hand.

When Isaac turns to Stiles he lifts his movie snacks, which really have been a burden this entire time, and Isaac just smiles.

“I’m Stiles.”

“Isaac, nice to meet you both. Wish we could hang but our movie starts soon.” He turns to Cora. “Are you ready?”

She smiles at Isaac and it gives Stiles the illusion that she was a nice sweet girl, not just someone who wants him dead. “Yeah. I’m ready.” Her eyes flit to Dereks. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

When she turns to leave Derek’s hand shoots out to grab her elbow.

“Cora, you can’t tell mom.”

She rips her arm from his grasp. “Believe me Derek, I’m not going to be the one to tell mom about this. I don’t even want to be there when you do.” She grabs Isaacs arm and pulls him along with her as they go to find their movie.

Derek watches her go before he shifts his gaze to the ground. Stiles can read his sad shoulder slump and the way his arms fall heavily to his sides like a book. He’s ashamed.

Stiles feels his chest contract and he swallows hard. It takes him a moment to collect himself.

“We don’t have to stay.” He says, trying to keep his voice neutral. Unease spreads throughout his body, his mouth feels dry. This is worse than just Cora rejecting them. Maybe it is going to be too much for Derek to be rejected by his pack. Maybe this isn’t going to work after all.

“It’s okay.” Derek says after a long pause. “I want to stay. I don’t care if she’s mad.” He turns around then, his expression soft. “Are you okay? You smell anxious.”

Stiles nods, giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I just want you to be happy.” And he does. But it might destroy him if that means Derek is happy without him.

Derek takes a step forward, leaning in to kiss Stiles' forehead. “I am happiest when I am with you.”

Again the movie theater snacks are ruining his ability to use his hands. He desperately wants to grab hold of Derek, to hold him tightly and protect him from whatever emotions are swirling within him that Stiles can’t scent out like werewolves can. He wants to hide in Derek from all of the things that are threatening to drown him in anxiety. Instead, he uses his cheek to rub against Derek’s jaw, mixing their scent in a way that he knows comforts the wolf. It comforts him to know that Derek allows him to be this close.

“Let’s get back to our date, ok?” Derek smiles. “I’ll call her later and fix this.”

“Alrighty,” Stiles musters excitement to smother his worries. Let me see some Matt Damon!”

Unfortunately Cora must have also wanted to see some Matt Damon. Derek sighs heavily when he sees them, Isaac waves, and he can’t hear it, but Stiles is pretty sure Cora is growling.

Their seats are all the way at the top, three rows up from Cora and Isaac and Stiles again asks if he wants to leave. Derek replies with a curt “no she can fucking deal,” through clenched teeth and Stiles slouches down into his seat. He abandons his drink in the cup holder and positions the popcorn bucket like a trough in front of his face, as if fake butter flavoring and crunch can cure his current woes.

The previews have barely stopped when Derek growls out, “I’ll be right back,” before abandoning his seat and Stiles along with it. He sees that Cora has done the same and he watches the two leave the theater with the same quickness and angry gait. About a minute into Jason Bourne's ‘making of’ flashback montage he feels eyes on him, and looks down at Isaac who motions with his head towards the exit.

Date night is going so great.

He dumps his soda and popcorn off at the trash and offers Isaac some of his snow-caps which he happily takes.

“Does Derek’s family not know he’s gay?” Isaac asks.

“No, well, I don’t think they do? I don’t know, but Cora’s not upset about that. At least I don’t think so, not entirely at least.” Stiles rubs the back of his neck as they make their way to the lobby searching for the missing Hale siblings. “Our families have a kind of blood feud thing going on, which is why we drove an hour and a half away from town for dinner and a movie.”

“Whose side lost blood?” Isaac pops a couple snow-caps into the air, easily catching them in his mouth. Werewolves.

“Nobody died, but I almost killed Derek when I was eight so they act like it's a blood feud.”

“Huh.” Isaac replies but doesn’t push.

“I’m a Siren.” Stiles offers up. “I accidentally hooked him under duress as a child and didn’t know how to unhook him, and now his family thinks I'm some sort of monster.”

“Bummer.”

Stiles sighs. “It has been.”

“You seem nice enough to me.”

Stiles shouldn’t feel as good about that as he does. “Thanks man.”

Isaac smiles. The man is a ray of sunshine. It falls off his face quickly though and he tilts his head a bit, listening. “They’re outside.”

Once they make it outside Stiles can hear the yelling without werewolf ears.

They are around the side of the movie theater by the trash bins, squared off as if they are ready to tear into one another. They are both yelling at the same time so it’s hard to get most of it, but Cora, of course, thinks Stiles is dangerous, and Derek thinks Cora doesn’t know how to think for herself.

“And you let him around my niece?”

“He’s not a monster.”

“He’s unhinged.”

“Mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about!” Derek roars. “It’s my life. You should trust me with who I want to be with.”

“Your track record begs to differ Derek!” Cora spits bitterly. “You trust the worst people.”

That, for some reason brings their fight to a screeching halt. Derek takes a step back from her as if she had slapped him and Cora looks like she's about to puke on the asphalt.

“Der, I didn’t...I’m sorry.” Her voice shakes and Stiles can see from where he is that her skin has gone a shade or two whiter. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t,” Derek says, sounding weary. He looks like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head and it hurts Stiles to see him fold in on himself. He turns away from her when she reaches out for him. “Just don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” He says when he comes over to Stiles. His eyes are focused on the ground between their feet and he speaks painfully quiet. “We should probably go home.”

Stiles glances over Derek's shoulder and can't help the sad smile he gets when he sees that Cora is standing in the same dejected and kicked puppy manor as Derek is, staring down at her own feet.

Stiles reaches out and takes Derek’s hands gently coaxing him as close as he’ll come.

“Do you guys like Indian food?” He asks Isaac, who nods enthusiastically. He turns back to find Derek staring at him and he can see that Cora is doing the same. He’s never seen them together but from what he’s seen so far they are very much the same person.

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand. “Let’s get dinner. The four of us. We can tell Cora our story and apologize for any hurt you’ve caused each other with your yelling, and then we can go home.” When Derek looks up and opens his mouth as if he is going to protest Stiles adds, “we have a sitter and I will squeeze a good time out of this dried citrus peel of an evening so help me God.”

Derek steps forward the rest of the way, slowly enveloping Stiles in a full-bodied hug. He tucks his head firmly into Stiles' neck. Stiles shakes the candy at Isaac, who thankfully gets with the program and takes it so Stiles can hug him back.

“I don’t deserve you.” Derek's whispers, lips dragging against the skin of his neck.

“You deserve nice things, and I am a nice thing for sure.” Stiles can feel Derek huff something of a laugh against his chest and he smiles, pressing a kiss against the jut of Derek's jawbone just below his ear.

Stiles looks over Derek’s shoulder to Cora who has the most interesting look of awe on her face. “You coming?” Stiles asks and she says, “yeah.”

The Indian food place is close to Isaacs apartment and it is as good as the reviews had said. Cora sits quietly eating and listening as Stiles tells them the whole story about the day he almost killed Derek. From his mom dying, to hooking Derek by accident and not knowing what to do.

“I was just scared, and I couldn’t ask my dad. He’s human and I didn’t think he would know what to do.”

He talks about the bullying that happened in school and around the town because of the accident before he goes into a lengthy description of Deaton training him which is an obvious shock to Cora, and finally he gets to Derek showing up at his doorstep with Cordelia in tow. By the time they finished eating everyone was laughing about how Scott had busted in on them and tried to protect Stiles from Derek and a toddler.

“He means well.” Stiles assures.

“So you liked him even though you didn’t know why he nearly drained you dry?” Isaac asks, cracking open another beer and passing it to Derek.

“I’ve always liked him.” Derek admits shyly. His attention is directed firmly at the bottle in his hands.

Stiles likes the way his skin flushes from his neck, traveling up to his cheeks and over his ears when he’s embarrassed.

“I watched him in school taking everything in stride and thought about how strong he was. He never stood up for himself but he wouldn’t let anyone treat Scott like shit. I didn’t feel like I was allowed to say anything because mom was so mad at him so I never interfered and I hate that.” His eyes cut to Stiles for a moment, flush climbing higher. “And it doesn’t hurt that he has a very beautiful singing voice.”

Stiles feels himself blushing. “Annnnd that's enough of that.” He takes the beer from Derek’s hand, taking a long swig of it to hide behind.

Isaac laughs, which Stiles pointedly ignores.

“I’m sorry.” Cora says softly and for a moment Stiles is worried but then she continues. “I was wrong to assume the worst of you. I was wrong to assume anything about you.”

“Thank you.” Stiles accepts quietly.

She nods and stands whipping her hands on her jeans. “Derek, can I talk to you for a minute.”

Derek squeezes Stiles' knee and gets up to follow her out of Isaacs apartment.

“They’re probably going up to the roof. It’s where she likes to think.”

“So are you guys friends or are you something-something.” Stiles asks, happy to direct attention away from himself for a minute and distract his mind from the conversation taking place on the roof.

“More something-something than friends but nothing official.” Isaac sighs lightly and smiles. “I want to sell the business here and move closer to Beacon Hills before we start something for real, but it’s nice what we have now. Nothing too complicated and it's just easier, you know?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Eventually Derek and Cora come back down from the roof with the evidence of emotions written in the redness of their eyes, but there is a calm air about them. Settled and relaxed. They don't talk about it but there is an air of contentment that wasn’t there before. Derek relaxes easier against him and Cora is freely offering up stories of their youth.

They stay for another hour before they decide to head out, still having a while to drive home and relieve Scott from his babysitting duties.

When Cora stops him as they are leaving and tells him it’s been nice getting to know him he believes her.

Stiles feels really good about how things ended with Cora and Isaac. The night cold have gone far worse and Stiles knows it. But she doesn’t seem to hate him and she and Derek seem to be okay and everyone made it out alive.

Maybe not unscathed though. Derek hasn’t said a word since they started the drive home and at first Stiles thought the silence was just contemplation but has since changed that thought because Derek was clearly upset about something. He was tense something clearly at the forefront of him mind and Stiles doesn’t push. Derek will talk to him when he is ready.

Ready was an hour into the drive home.

“I need to,” Derek starts then pauses, taking a few breaths before continuing. “I need to tell you why I don’t live with the pack. Why I don’t spend time with my family like I should.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything Derek.”

“I want to.” He amends. “It’s an important part of who I am, and Cora isn’t going to be the only one to bring it up. I would rather be the one to tell you.”

Silence covers the car. Stiles can see the way Derek’s hands are flexing on the steering wheel gripping tight then letting go just to do it again.

He waits.

“There was a woman I dated when I was in high school.” Derek keeps his gaze firm on the road as he speaks. “I’m not going to be the next alpha and I'm not cut out to be a left hand. I know now that is okay and that there are other roles in the pack that are just as needed, but growing up in Laura’s shadow and not needing to be trained like Cora I felt like I didn’t belong. I didn’t feel like I fit in my own family and I didn't know how to explain it to them.

I met Kate in 11th grade. She was the substitute teacher for my English class and I thought it was mature of me that a beautiful woman found a 16 year old me interesting and attractive. I thought she loved me. I thought I was in love with her. I didn't know it was wrong to be with her.”

Stile's stomach drops at the implication.

“It was all a ruse. Kate Argent used me to find out about my family and she tried to burn us alive.”

Stiles can't stop the small intake of breath.

Derek doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does it doesn’t deter him. “She failed. We all survived because I killed her. She didn’t think I could, but I did. I ripped her throat out and watched her die and her father started hunting smaller packs in revenge. That's why the Argents broke into factions and left the hunting community. That’s why they are burning us alive.”

He waits just listening to Derek try to take leveling breaths. He remembers the sub in English disappearing one day and Derek's absence from staring at him in the hallway for weeks. He hadn’t cared about his absence, he had just enjoyed the lack of Hale stare coming his way. Knowing why he’d been left him alone for a bit makes him feel sick.

“I don’t live there because I don’t want to be around them. I don’t deserve to be. They could have died because of me, and I figured the further I made myself from them the better they would be.”

It made sense now, Derek showing up in the middle of the night like he had no one else to turn to. He understood why Derek rarely had any stories of his family, and why Laura was the only one he spent time with. Why Cora was so judgmental about who Derek was letting into his life.

“Every pack the Argents have attacked is my fault. I’m responsible for all of their deaths because I wanted to feel important. I wanted to be somebody. Every person they’ve killed is on my hands because I thought that she could love me. Cordelia’s pack is dead because I-”

He cuts himself off with an aborted whine and Stiles watches his grip tighten on the wheel.

“Derek,” Stiles wraps his hand around Derek's bicep, squeezing tightly. “Derek, pull over.”

He jerks the car to the side of the road obediently, like he doesn’t have any other option but to listen, and Stiles is unbuckling himself before they hit the rumble strips. By the time Derek puts the car in park Stiles is reaching across the seat, hands going to either side of his face.

“Hey,” Stiles says as softly as he can. He can feel the way his throat is tight against his emotions but he pushes them down. Derek is still looking out at the road, eyes glazed over. “Hunny, look at me.” He runs his fingers over Derek’s jaw, coaxing him to turn towards him.

His eyes are flickering between blue and hazel when he turns them towards Stiles and he could cry at how lost Derek looks. Shattered.

Stiles runs his thumbs gently over the soft skin under Derek’s eyes.

“What am I going to tell her?”

“That you love her. And that her parents and her pack loved her.”

“But I-”

“No.” He cuts him off, tightening the grip he has on Derek's face. “You aren’t responsible for other people's actions. That woman was a predator. You did nothing wrong, okay? You protected your family. You aren’t responsible for what those psychopaths have done.”

Derek is breathing out short, stunted huffs of breath warm against Stiles face, blinking against the moisture Stiles can see beginning to build in his eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Stiles tells him, the grip he has on Derek's face tightens just a bit more. “It wasn’t your fault, Cordys’ family wasn’t your fault.

“I love you.” Stiles tells him, hands gripping tighter on Derek's face. “Derek I love you so much and I am sorry you had to deal with that. Thank you for trusting me with your heart. With Cordelia. And I promise, I am going to protect both of you for the rest of my life.”

He wipes the tears trailing down Derek’s cheeks with his thumbs and kisses his forehead firmly.

Stiles' heart is aching with song. It’s a swirling violent thing of rage and grief and Stiles has to force himself to breathe through it because he wants to come out of him. It wants to tear the world apart.

He wants the Argents to suffer for what they’ve done, for all the lives they’ve destroyed, to strike vengeance for the pain that Derek has endured. The rage gives way under grief and it builds into a song of mourning for what has been lost, for both Derek and Cordelia.

It grows and grows and he bites down on the inside of his cheek until copper blossoms and he is able to focus on his own pain and his emotions fold into himself instead of fighting to burst out in a cacophony of sound.

Stiles hands are shaking on Derek's face but he hasn’t seemed to notice. His eyes are glazed over staring ahead at nothing in particular and he looks so much like the Derek he left in the woods that he aches.

Stiles waits until he’s calmed enough to switch seats with Derek and drive them home. The entire way home he has to keep pushing away at the song trying to write itself within him. It’s dangerous. He can tell when a song wants to be dangerous, something unstable and alive within him wanting to take shape and be set loose. It’s a fierce burning song of protection built on every moment of love and happiness and trust he has had with Derek and Cordelia.

It scares him to know that if he ever let the song complete itself it would be disastrous.

It shakes him to know that he would release it if given the chance.

Scott takes one whiff of them when the door opens before horror crosses over his face. Derek walks past him and heads straight for Cordelia's room.

“We’re fine.” Stiles placates when Scott looks like he's about to combust. “We just ran into one of Derek’s sisters and it turned into a really long night.”

“Okay.” Scott nods slowly, looking completely unconvinced. “The scary one?”

“No, the scarier one from our class.”

“Cora? And you're alive?”

“She's not that bad.” At least the jury's still out. She might grow on him.

“How was she?” Stiles redirects.

“She was great.” Scott beams. “I sang her the song you mentioned and she fell asleep on the third go around.”

“It’s her favorite right now.” Stiles smiled thinking of just how awful Scotts singing voice is. He loves him, but carrying a tune is something that has never been his strong suit. Luckily Cordys love of Hosier seemed to have trumped Scotts vocal butchering. 

He waves Scott out the door promising he’ll call tomorrow with more information. For now he’s too tired and raw to do anything else.

He finds Derek in their bed with Cordelia asleep tucked in close to his body. Stiles strips down to his boxers and throws on a t-shirt before sliding into bed. He mirrors the way Derek is curled around her back until his head is nearly touching the top of hers.

He stares at her little face, the way she breathes with her mouth parted and with each inhale he watches how her bottom lip pulls in just the littlest bit. Her eyes are moving back and forth behind her lids and he wonders if she is dreaming of something nice. Or maybe just Elmo again.

Derek is staring at him when he looks up over her curls. Reaching over her body he rests his hand on Derek's wrist, squeezing lightly a few times before moving to trail his hand up and down the length of his arm soothingly.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks and watches over Cordelia's head as Derek nods lightly.

“I’m sorry that I ruined our date night.” He says after a moment.

“It wasn’t ruined.” Stiles is quick to rebuff. “It wasn’t as we imagined, but Cora doesn’t hate the idea of us anymore and Isaac seems pretty cool. I call that a win.”

Derek's face twitches, the first sign of a smirk Stiles has seen since they left Chester before his eyes drift back down to Cordelia.

“You called me hunny.” He whispers between them after a few minutes pass.

Stiles feels his cheeks flush. “Yeah. My mom used to call me that when I was upset.”

“I liked it.”

“That’s good then.”

They fall into silence and when it’s clear that Derek isn’t settling into sleep Stiles asks, “can I give you a song?”

The way Derek's eyes meet his in the light makes his heart trip over itself.

“Please.”

Stiles lifts his hand to stroke his fingertips gently over Derek's forehead for a moment before linking their hands together, squeezing firmly. He hasn’t hooked Derek, not since the first time, but he isn’t afraid. He knows he can give him this. He can give him peace.

It’s painful. He draws out the guilt and hurt and fear that sits in Derek and it hurts his heart. It’s a thick disgusting sludge that reaches further than Stiles could have imagined within him. It must have been growing inside him for years and it makes his heart ache knowing that Derek feels like this even for a second. That he has been carrying this for years.

But for every ounce of pain he pulls from Derek he has so much more to give back to him in love. He pushes every ounce of love he feels for this man forward. He pushes the joy he feels over their daughter and the peace that has grown in his heart, the healing that has come from knowing them both, and every moment he can recall since they came into his home that has filled his life with so much love.

Stiles sings for Derek and he weaves in the dreams he has about their future. The hope he has for what is to come. The healing they are both going through that he knows is going to continue to grow into something beautiful.

He waits until Derek has fallen off into a deep sleep before he unhooks from him. Then he sings himself to sleep.

The first time Cora shows up for dinner unannounced, everyone is surprised. She just shrugs, flips her braid over her shoulder and says, “Your house is also listed as your business address. It wasn’t like it was hard to find you.”

Stiles likes that she is devious enough to have been a PI or a super villain, but chooses to use her powers to come have dinner with her brother and her niece.

She ends up coming over once or twice a week, which Stiles at first assumes is her way of spying on them, but after the third week he thinks that maybe it’s because she wants to be a part of their lives.

At the month mark of Coras weekly visit she shows up with Isaac and they force Stiles and Derek out of the house to go on another date. Attempt number two is highly successful. They end up only driving one town over for dinner at a small Italian place. They see no one they know, and it is a perfect evening.

“Do you want us to spend the full moon with you?”

Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear to look at it, looks at the rolling letters that said Derek, and put it back to his ear. “Like tonight?”

“Yeah.”

When they’d left that morning he’d kissed them both good bye with a ‘see you tomorrow’ because they always spend their full moons with the pack.

“Stiles.”

“I’m here.” He says. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Nevermind.”

“No, no wait.” Stiles says and then waits to hear Derek still breathing on the line. “I do want to spend the full moon with you, I just didn’t know it was an option. Don't you like need to be with your alpha and all that?”

“Not every moon.”

“Okay. I didn’t know that. So...you coming home now?”

“Yeah. Be there in a bit.”

“Alright, I’ll see you soon then.”

“Where does your mother think you are?”

“I told her we were visiting Cora. Cora said she’d cover for us.”

Cordelia is trying to wrestle herself out of her jacket but she hasn’t quite managed buttons and somehow Derek's tendency to just rip clothes off when they are annoying him is something she's picked up as a trait of her own.

“Do you need help?” Stiles asks, bending down and quickly getting the buttons out of her way because this is her third jacket in the last month. She flings it onto the floor and runs away.

He’s only ever been with Scott during a full moon and he would turn into a cranky bear more so than a wolf until entering into a full shit. He’d explained it as them reaching the height of their patience or something, an overflowing of emotion and then it would vanish into the wolf with a full shift.

Clearly this wasn’t just a Scott thing. Derek’s brow was very cantankerous and Cordelia was practically stomping around the house, as best as a toddler could. It had the opposite effect on Stiles though. Both of their ridiculousness only served to bolster the giddiness that had been growing in him since Derek had called because choosing to share a full moon felt like it was a big deal. It was a big deal to Stiles at least.

He hasn’t seen Derek's wolf yet. The Hales are known for being able to achieve a full shift during the strength of the full moon. It's a dying ability. Cordys at the age that she should be able to pop some fangs or paper thin claws but they haven’t seen anything yet.

Stiles had made dinner before they arrived and they ate on the porch in mostly silence outside of small growls rumbling out of Cordy like the cutest little werewolf ever.

Her face was covered in dinner and Derek didn't even bother to clean her off instead scooping her up he walked down to the lake and jumped off the end of the dock.

“It’s freezing.” He says when they come up, but Cordelia is laughing and Derek growls playfully at her and rubs their noses together.

“Come on in the waters fine.”

“You just said it was freezing, you liar.”

“Freezing is relative. And you are a creature of the deep.”

“Deep California.”

They come out of the water and Derek plops a wet toddler in his arms and then shakes his hair off like a dog while Cordy is doing a good job of crawling over Stiles like he’s some sort of play set.

They take turns chasing Cordelia and throwing her around as the moon climbs higher into the sky. The grumpy air they arrived with is gone and a comfortable fun ease and warmth has spread between them. Eventually around two she starts to slow down and yawn with tiny pointed teeth sticking out and she crawls into Stiles lap where he’s been sitting on the blanket.

“You are going to sleep great tomorrow I bet.” He says and plants four kisses in quick succession on her cheek. “Gonna sleep all day.”

“I took the day off so we could all just chill together.”

Derek is taking off his clothes and folding them into a little pile on the ground. The moon is at its apex in the sky. It’s time. He doesn’t know if it's etiquette to watch or if he should look away and waits for Derek to tell him but he doesn’t say anything. When he’s fully bare and illuminated by the sun he just turns and looks down at them and smiles before turning to face the moon.

Its…kinda gross, but fascinating and he doesn’t look away. Just watches as Derek's body morphs from human to wolf in a cacophony of broken then healed bones and the man is gone and Stiles is left staring at Derek, who is much larger than Stiles thought he would be.

He is enormous. Fully black like the color of his hair but his eyes glow the piercing blue Stiles is familiar with by now. He had envisioned something more husky like, less towering, more fluffy. Derek regards him for a moment before he bows his huge head down to snuff at Cordelia. She giggles and grabs fistfuls of fur at his neck and Stiles wants to tell her not to but this isn’t a wild animal to fear, it's her dad.

A few moments pass between them before Derek nips at the tiny fingers that are playing with his snout and his gaze slides back over to Stiles. He knows Derek's expressions by now but even if he didn’t the concern written across his face is evident. As if he’s waiting to see if Stiles is going to scream and run away. Like this could be the part of him that is too much for Stiles to deal with.

It isn’t, and he doesn’t run away. Instead he smirks and says, “how you doin?” in his best Tribbiani imitation and gets a huff of hot air across his cheek in a clear laugh.

Stiles reaches out cupping around the large jaw of his boyfriend and scratches lightly at the hinge of his jaw. “You are bigger than I thought you would be. All the better to snuggle me with.”

Derek's eye roll is as readable as a wolf as it is when he’s human.

“Less intimidating too.”

Cordelia is petting her hand up and down Derek's leg sleepily adding heaps of evidence to his claim.

Derek moves closer and nudges Stiles' chin with his nose until he gets with the program and tilts back his head. He scents him, head almost too large to fit in the space between Stiles shoulder and chin but he manages. He radiates more heat in the full shift, a giant furnace and it leaves the rest of him feeling chilled by the night when he steps back and sits down in front of them.

Cordelia, sensing something he doesn't, scrambles to sit up and face Derek staying in Stiles crossed legs.

Derek arches his head towards the moon and howls.

A solid note fills the air for a moment and then a second howl coming from his lap startles him.

They howl together both of their heads tipped back to face the moon and he’s amazed by their harmony echoing across the water and back to him. He listens as it goes on for a while until Derek stops and Stiles assumes that's it, but Derek fixes him with a look and with his paw pushes Stiles knee and lets out a low bark.

“Yeah I don’t speak wolfs and barks bud.”

He does speak that eye roll that Derek gives him. He pushes against Stiles' knee again and gives a small howl before fixing Stiles with a look.

Hale full shift werewolves also communicated with their eyebrows.

“You want me to howl?”

Derek darts forward, licking a stripe of slobber up the side of Stiles' face. His tongue is huge and scratchy and Stiles laughs and rubs his cheek on the shoulder of his shirt. “Gross dude.”

Derek sits back and howls again, long and loud. Cordelia a moment later. Stiles listens and thinks. He isn’t going to howl. It would sound ridiculous for him to try, but he could sing. He picks an accompanying note, lifts his head and sings, his voice joining their song to the sky. Cordelia leans back against his chest, tipping her head back onto his shoulder and the three of them make music for themselves and the moon to hear.

He gets lost in their song letting it drift around him like a warm quilt and lock itself in his core as a beautiful moment in time. At some point Cordy falls asleep curled against his chest and he and Derek continue together.

A breeze brings a chill off the lake. Stiles shivers and Derek lets out one last long howl into the sky. He slips back into human skin and into his clothes and scoops Cordelia up into his chest nuzzling her sleeping cheek for a moment before turning his gaze towards Stiles. His face is soft, eyes pulled tight in the corners expressing so much it makes Stiles bones ache.

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For loving me as I am, all of me.”

He wants to say something, something that would reassure Derek, convey his love and adoration and commitment and wonder that Derek has chosen to bare himself fully for Stiles to take part in, but words fail the enormity of his feelings. He takes Derek's hand when it's offered, easily being lifted from the grass.

Derek holds Stiles up against the shower wall and rims him while the warm water takes the chill out of his bones. He cages Stiles between himself and the bed, bodies rocking together leisurely as the last of the day's energy leaves them and the moon goes to greet the other side of the world. He falls asleep with Derek breathing softly on his neck, their hands tangled against Stiles' chest.

He wakes up briefly when he hears their door open when there is fresh morning light coming through the windows and feels Derek pull Cordelia into the bed, telling her to go back to sleep. She does, and so does Stiles.

Cora keeps coming to bond with Isaac tagging along. Scott comes over on one of the nights they are in town and instantly falls into bro love with Issac. Suddenly Stiles has friends.

He is shocked to realize that he enjoys Coras company. She is wicked and their humor is the same and he catches her trailing her hand over his shoulder to scent mark him when she thinks he isn’t paying attention. This particular revelation has Derek calming him down because, ‘holy shit Derek your sister has accepted me as part of your pack’. And that's kind of a huge deal.

It’s nice. Really nice. Stiles' heart is so full. April rolls around and with it his birthday and while he had expected to spend the day with just Derek and Cordy he’s met with a surprise party with the six of them and Kira, who had been so excited to meet Derek that lightning strikes outside when she grabs him in a hug.

The night is filled with laughter and joy and after everyone has left and Cordelia is long asleep he and Derek fuck on the couch whiles Stiles favorite movie plays in the background. It’s ridiculous and wonderful. They’re both giddy and a little drunk thanks to Isaac bringing wolfsbane laced liquor and Stiles is unbelievably happy.

The way Derek says his name is both reverent and insistent. His lips drag against Stiles throat, teeth nipping from his jaw down to his collarbone and Stiles fingers are threaded in his hair, pulling Derek closer.

“Stiles,” Derek moans hot against his neck when he cums, hips stuttering as he thrusts into Stiles, fingers surely leaving imprints from how tightly they’re gripping his sides.

Stiles chokes on Derek’s name, stripping their chests between them.

“I love you.” Derek says as he strokes his hand down Stiles' sweat slicked back. “I love you.” He says, pressing a kiss to his nose. “I love you.” He says against Stiles' cheek, at the tear tracks that are there, because everything is just so good.

They kiss lazily as they come down both shivering from their orgasms and the chilled air touching their sex fevered skin. Stiles can only smile tiredly and hold onto Derek with what little control he has in his shaking hands.

He feels like for once, finally, everything is just perfect.

The cereal aisle is cursed. Or maybe Stiles is cursed? Its the only explanation as to why he can never just buy cereal without issue.

Currently his body is reacting in some sort of ancient predator-prey compulsion and he is holding himself still as a rock. The hair on the back of his neck is raised in alarm, each a little warning, and he can feel the body behind him with how close they are yet somehow not touching.

Slowly as he can he turns his head just enough that his eyes can connect with Peter Hales, Dereks uncle, rumored merciless left hand of the Hale Pack.

The left hand thing was true, but whether he was capable of mercy or not was yet to be proven in court of law.

Peters eyes were a light blue that were bright with delight.

And things had been going so well.

Stiles swallows down the urge to scream and run away.

He wouldn’t get far. He isn’t that fast compared to a werewolf and he knows it.

Peter very purposefully looks down and Stiles follows suit landing on the box he still has gripped in his hands.

“Interesting selection you’ve made.” Peter says slowly. “I thought only my nephews palate could enjoy something so terribly bland.”

It was worse than bland. Stiles had tried some once and even with sugar, lots of sugar, it was still so very bad.

He wasn’t going to tell Peter that though. His whole focus is currently being spent on staying alive and being very still. Peter couldn’t see him if he didn’t move.

Wait, no. That’s tyrannosaurs, not werewolves. Fuck.

“I’d hoped his tastes would improve seeing as he’s found himself in what appears to be a healthy, happy relationship.” His eyes narrow a bit. “He is healthy and happy, correct?”

Stiles nods.

“Good.” Peter reaches past Stiles grabbing a box of Honey Bunches of Oats. “This is much better don’t you agree?”

Stiles, again, just nods.

Peter smiles and it takes him aback because it kind of seems real and genuine. The kind that makes Stiles own lips curl up at the edges.

“Do tell my nephew I said hello when you see him tonight.”

He does. Derek is somehow completely surprised and not surprised at all, but assures Stiles that if Peter approves, and apparently that was his weird way of giving his blessing, then maybe all this will go better than they thought.

“Take the fingers and toes book,” Stiles calls into the living room where he can see Derek gathering things to pack. “She’s really into that one right now.”

“Good call.” Derek rummages through the pile of toys in the living room until he comes up with a victorious “ah-ha,” book in hand. Stiles is on breakfast duty while Derek is packing Cordy’s day bag for the Pink Moon.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to stay at your place tonight?” Stiles asks. He picks up the fork Cordelia's thrown on the floor again, briefly wiping it between his thumb and forefinger before giving it back to her. “I really don’t mind and then you aren’t driving back too late.” Some full moon nights Derek doesn't roll in until three in the morning, exhausted but settled and then he sleeps the whole day away.

Cordelia drops the fork back onto the floor and opts to use her hands as utensils.

Stiles blows out a sigh. “I can’t be mad. You were raised by wolves after all.”

“Ha ha,” Derek mocks, stuffing the book and her current favorite bear toy companion into the diaper bag backpack. “More of our scent is here, and after spending all evening with the greater pack I think we will both sleep better at home.”

Stiles still gets excited at Derek referencing the house as their home. It shouldn’t be surprising to him every time, but the last time Derek spent the night in his apartment was over two months ago and Stiles is okay with that.

He can’t believe no one has picked up his scent. Well no one but Peter, but it's not like Derek is going out of his way to scrub Stiles off of him like he used to.

He’s seriously thinking through what moving closer to town would mean for them. Two hours round trip everyday for work is a long way for Derek to be driving even if he says he doesn’t mind. Regardless of whether or not Derek actually likes the drive he knows it would be more practical to live in town.

He hasn’t said anything to Derek though. He wants to wait until they out their relationship to their parents, and in the event that it goes well he will bring it up.

Oh, talking to their parents. He feels the dread set over him before he can push it away.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks, missing nothing as he smells the sudden change in the air.

Stupid werewolf noses.

“I’m fine. I was just envisioning how terrible next weekend is going to go.”

Their plan is a band-aid rip. They are adults and so are their parents. Scott will watch Cordelia for them and they are going to invite all three of their parents over for a one shot reveal at Derek’s apartment, and then deal with the fallout together. A fallout that Stiles is dreading and obsessing over to the point that he has been dreaming about it, and none of his dream scenarios have gone well.

Their plan may not have been the best plan they could have come up with, but it wasn’t the plan where they hired a plane to fly a banner over all of Beacon Hills declaring their love for each other while they were at least a hundred miles away, so it could have been worse.

No, this is the more adult plan where they would look into the eyes of their parents, confess their love while being within the blast zone, and hope that they will survive the explosion together.

So yeah, Stiles is dreading all of that entirely.

“We still have one week of domestic secretive bliss.” Derek smirks sweetly.

“If we can make it that long.” Stiles scoffs.

Stiles catches the fork this time as it flies from the highchair. It has a piece of sausage on it and he entertains eating it before stopping himself because he’s just hungry, not desperate and he gives it back to her. He’s pleased she got anything on the fork at all.

Cordy takes the fork from him and bites the silicone end instead of the actual edible food.

“You are hopeless.” Stiles tells her fondly.

“I believe in your ability to survive a week.” Derek says zipping up his backpack. “Besides, you aren’t about to have dinner with 50 werewolves who will be able to tell if you lie. I am going to have to do some serious verbal acrobatics if anyone gets too close with a question. And Peter and Cora are going to team up on me and make innuendos about us all night and try to get me flustered and accidentally out us. Isaac is going to come so maybe he will take pity on me but who knows, he may join the innuendo gang just for fun.”

“You think I have it better?.” Stiles laughs. “I cannot lie to my dad. I can’t. Like, at all. He sees right through me like there is a banner on my head telegraphing the truth. He is going to be able to see right through me and know we are dating and he is going to shoot me before dinner is over and you are going to be single again.”

“Your dad isn’t going to shoot you.” Derek chuckles. He drops the backpack onto the floor behind the highchair and situates himself half between Stiles and Cordelia.

“Cordelia,” he says, drawing her gaze towards him. He flashes his eyes at her before telling her, “you need to eat your breakfast young lady.”

She locks eyes with him bringing the fork up to her mouth and Stiles has one moment of elation before she spits out the sausage onto her tray.

“I tried.” Derek hands the fork to Stiles, bending down to kiss his temple. “You can make it through dinner with your father, and I can make it through the Harvest moon with everyone else.”

“I still think you have it easier.” Stiles argues.

“I’ll trade you.” Derek grins, packing some bottles into the go bag.

“No, I think I will take my chances with my gun toting dad. At least I know he loves me. Maybe that’s enough to keep me alive.”

Derek snorts. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He leans down and kisses Stiles and really Stiles will never tire of Derek’s lips on his. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

“Yeah.” Stiles agrees against Dereks lips.

Maybe if they say it enough it will be.

He knows. Of course he knows. Nothing gets past him and Stiles was stupid to think he could hide anything from his father because he definitely knows.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His father asks again, because Stiles is not doing a good job of acting normal.

He has seen his father several times over the last year and he talks to him on the phone frequently, but sitting in front of the man at his childhood homes kitchen table, staring at him over plates of vegetarian lasagna and salad, seeing his ‘I know you are full of shit’ stare, Stiles can feel his backbone, what little of it he has, crumbling faster than a mummy being introduced to oxygen after a thousand years in the tomb.

“Yeah.” Stiles tries pathetically. “I’m fine. Great. Everything's awesome. You like your lasagna?”

The Sheriff fixes him with a look that says he doesn’t believe him and that he is trying too hard. “It would be better with burger meat and less spinach.” As if to emphasize the point he pushes a pile of spinach he has been gathering into the center of his plate.

“Cholesterol.” Stiles' rebuts. His argument is weak. He knows he is losing.

He and Derek have a plan, damnit. Next weekend is the time for confessions, not right now. He is strong. He can do this. Derek is probably having a great time with his family using Cordy as a shield and dodging all personal questions just by flexing his eyebrows and being broody.

Stiles is just one man facing another man. He can do this. He can totally do this.

“Scotts getting engaged soon.” He slides quickly to distraction.

“Oh yeah?”

‘Yes’ he thinks. ‘Follow the rabbit hole.’

“Scott’s so excited.” Stiles continues. “Next month on the 22nd is their two year anniversary and he has to be all poetic and shit so he is going to recreate their first date. Well, technically, their first date was terrible and it is a miracle that Kira gave him a second chance. So it’s a recreation of the second date. And he had so many shitty proposal ideas before that. Seriously dad, he wanted to parachute with her and pretend their parachute was broken.”

The Sheriff snorts. “That would have ended in a murdered Scott instead of an engaged Scott.”

“Right? I spent hours talking him down off of some truly horrendous ideas. He will name his firstborn after me, he owes me that much.” Technically Derek had mostly come up with the grand idea but that was confidential information.

He starts listing all the bad ideas he can remember along with all of the corny and downright awful proposal videos Scott had him watch through, and by the time he has exhausted that particular train of distraction dinner is over.

He breathes a sigh of relief at having thwarted his father. He did it. He’d survived dinner.

“So are you gonna tell me next weekend what it is that you are trying so hard not to accidentally tell me now?”

Just when he thought he was in the clear.

“Dad.” Stiles groans.

“Stiles.” His father mimes. “You aren’t slick.”

“Ugh, don’t ever say that again. You are like a hundred years old.”

“Well you aren’t. The last time I saw you two weekends in a row you lived here. You haven’t told me a single day to day detail of your life, which makes me think that it’s something that has to do with your day to day life, and you are worried that you are going to slip up and say something you don’t want me to know. So whatever you are going to tell me next weekend is probably pretty big. I assume you are seeing someone, and it's pretty serious if they are living with you, because I know you and you don’t like to share your space.”

“I share my space fine!” Stiles objects.

“With Scott. Everyone else was always sequestered in the guest room. Hell, you wouldn’t let me keep my toothbrush in the sink holder when we had to share a bathroom while mine was being remodeled.”

“That's because if they touched I would have died.”

“Really Stiles? You would have died?”

“Yes.”

“Well I am glad you survived death by toothbrush germs.” His father rolls his eyes. “That being said, my official deductive guess is that you are in a serious relationship and I am going to get to meet them next weekend.”

They stare at each other over the leftover lasagna and empty plates and discarded pile of spinach, eyes narrowed and unblinking in deep battle. This is a battle they have had countless times before and that Stiles has never won. Not once in his life has he won a stare down against his father.

Slowly his eyes began to dry out. His lids begin to twitch, his brow perspires, and he can feel the way his hands are starting to shake under the strain as he tries to keep his composure. He holds as long as he can, longer than he ever has before the pressure becomes too much.

“Fine!” He yells blinking moisture back into his eyes. “Fine yes I am seeing someone, and yes next weekend is a meet and greet. Are you happy now, you psycho!”

His father slaps the table in triumph. “I knew it!”

Stiles rolls his eyes and stands up to clear the table to give himself something to do. “Yeah, yeah. What a brilliant detective the career Sheriff is.”

His father chuckles and gets up to help him with the leftovers. “Well, tell me about them.”

“It’s a him, and no more information until next weekend.”

“Well you can give me something. Do I know him?”

“Who knows.” Stiles says, happy that his father can’t hear his heart.

“Is he from town?”

“Dad.”

“Older? Younger? What does he do?”

“Dad!” Stiles laughs. “Enough. Next weekend. Be patient.”

“Yeah, cause that's what we Stilinski's are known for, our patience. Are you happy at least?”

Stiles can't keep the smile from his face or from in his voice “I am.” He says confidently.

He turns when his father grabs at his shoulder tightly. “That’s all I care about kiddo.”

Stiles huffs dryly. “Huh, yeah. You remember that come next weekend. I will remind you that you said that.”

“What? You afraid I won't like him? What’s he into that I wouldn’t-”

“Next weekend dad.” Stiles cuts him off. “Next weekend. There’s like a whole plan and everything.”

“Are you going to make me sit through one of your power-points?”

“Dad!”

Alright! I yield.” His father throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Make an old man wait until next weekend for the juicy details.”

Stiles rolls his eyes so hard it hurts.

His dad claps a hand over his shoulder squeezing tightly. “How late are you staying? You want a beer?”

“Can’t tonight.” Stiles shakes his head. “Gotta get home.”

“To your boy~friend?” His father sing-song teased.

He smiles brightly. “Yup.” Stiles pops the p happily. He would go home to an awesome boyfriend and probably a crabby daughter. Good lord, his father is going to have a heart attack next weekend when he finds out about Cordy. Maybe he should just start with Derek and then tell him about Cordy in a few months after he’s calmed down from the initial shock.

“On second thought I can have one before I leave. I have some extra time for you.”

“Glad to hear it.” His father pulls another beer out of the fridge and passes it to him.

He’s barely left his dads just edging along the outside of town when his phone starts to ring, Scotts lop-sided grin staring up at him from the screen.

“Hey man,” he started but was cut off by Scott yelling over him, “are you still at your dads?”

He can hear through the phone that Scott is on his motorcycle and his voice had an edge of fear to it that Stiles hadn’t heard in a long time.

“I just left, whats wrong?”

He’s supposed to be covering for Deaton at the clinic while Deaton is at the Pink Moon gathering. Scott had never joined the Hale pack stating solidarity with Stiles, pack events were optional.

“The Argents hit the Hale pack.” Scotts voice comes through the line and freezes Stiles blood. He slams his foot down on the break, jeep screeching to a halt in the middle of the road. He twists the steering wheel around as far as it will go and turns the car around heading towards the preserve.

“Stiles, they got a call out.” Scott yells and he knows that’s a miracle. Land lines were always cut, cell phone jammers always used, the Argents made sure help couldn’t be reached, but someone got a call out, so there could still be time. There’s a chance help could get there in time.

There’s a chance there isn’t anything left to save.

“Fuck.” Stiles spits. “Shit.”

Stiles has never seen the Hale house before. He knows where to go because no one else has a house in the preserve, and he goes towards the orange hue emanating from the trees.

Whatever the house had looked like is indiscernible by the time Stiles throws the jeep into park behind the vehicles scattered up the driveway. The air is thick with smoke that's hard enough to see through let alone breath in. It burns down his nose and throat when he tries to breathe and he coughs into his elbow as he moves forward.

The noise is overwhelming. The house is groaning under the flames, wood popping and fizzing as the flames engulf everything in their path. He can see the forms of people scatter in the lawn and one the porch where they have been driven from the burning house looking for escape but Stiles knows how the Argents work. The reason they haven’t run farther from the fire, the reason they haven’t gone to find safety and why they haven’t gone to fight is because somewhere there is a mountain ash line keeping the werewolves trapped. Any of the humans or other supernaturals that could make it past the mountain ash line would be taken out by bullets.

They are trapped like fish in a barrel. Forced to die by fire or firing squad

The blood in Stiles' veins boils. Rage pounds in his chest. His teeth crack under the pressure of his clenched jaw. He can hear the terror in the screams and cries as well the anger he feels being echoed in the snarls and howls coming from the house but it's the laughter the fills him with indescribable rage.

It comes from the treeline and he can’t see where the Argents are hiding but he knows they are there taking pleasure in their destruction.

A song forms without thought, building from the same song that had gripped him in the car when Derek told him about Kate. That same song of protection and devastation rises from where he’d pushed it down and it twists becoming something sharper and it digs itself deeper than he can control.

He feels it taking over his body in a way he can’t push down or harness. It feels like the day he’d hooked Derek. When the everything had been too much and the only thing he could do with his pain was let it out, uncontrolled and wild. The noise around him fades with each step he takes as the fuel for his song builds and grows.

Derek is here. Their child is here. Every ounce of him rages at the thought that someone is trying to take them from him. That they would dare hurt what is his to keep, his to protect, and his to love. He wants to make the Argents pay for what they have done and what they are doing. He wants them to suffer. Every tear Cordelia cried as a pup after her family was taken from her, for every pack that had been killed because of the Argents bigotry, for Derek who was just a child whose trust had been broken and was forced to grow up too quickly, Stiles feels each thread of rage grow and swell and finally boil over.

His jaw snaps open painfully, the song comes thundering from deep within him. It’s fury and devastation mixed with righteous anger and love. It bursts out of him and he doesn’t try to reign it in at all. He just lets go.

He hooks everyone.

The song stretches out wrapping from the house and the lawn to the wood line and around the property until every life force that is present is hooked into his song. It’s easy to divide everyone within the mountain ash from the Argent group in the trees. There’s a fear and anger that he can feel is different from anger and hatred away from the house and he takes a moment to send calm towards the Hale group before unhooking them and focusing his rage, his anger, his hatred towards the Argents.

Once he’s sure of who he holds he allows his song to change. He lets all the violence in him rise to the surface, unbridled, he lets his song completely free.

Stiles wants them to suffer. He wants the pain that they have caused to return to them ten fold, to drown them in the same feeling of terror and grief they have inflicted on his family, and every family they had harmed. He latches onto that feeling and pulls.

He pulls on their hooks until he feels their life lines begin to dwindle.

He holds those lines taut and he hurls every bit of anguish he has at them.

The hooks in them begin to wither and break as he suffocates and drains the very life in them.

He doubles down, song turning harsher, pulling faster, harder. One, two, four, six hooks snap free in death. He wants them all.

Firm hands clamp over his mouth pulling him back and away from the house. He fights against it.

“Stiles, that's enough!” His dad shouts. “It’s okay now. Let them go.”

He doesn’t want to. He wants to feel all of them suffer. He wants to feel them die. They deserve to die.

“Stiles please!”

He’s pleading, voice full of so much fear that it makes Stiles come back to himself just enough to cut loose from the song, dropping each of the remaining hooks free, body slumping backwards onto his dad's chest.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His dad coaxes. Hands pull away from Stiles mouth moving down to grip his shoulders tight. “I’ve got you kiddo. Just breathe.”

Stiles does. At least he tries to. His inhale is cut off by excruciating pain, sharp and unforgiving, his legs giving way beneath him and he collapses hitting the ground hard.

“What’s wrong?” His dad yells clamoring down beside him. “Stiles what is it?”

Hands grab at his shoulder turning him over and the arms Stiles has crossed over his stomach are pulled away.

A sharp intake of breath. “Jesus.”

Stiles looks and its blood. So much blood that he can see the flames still burning down the house reflecting off his soaking shirt.

“You're okay.”

He looks back up and watches his dad tear off his jacket, balling it up and shoving it into his stomach hard and he can’t even scream against the blossom of excruciating pain. He may muster a whimper but maybe he imagines it.

“You’ve been shot.” His dad tells him. He’s using his sheriff's voice but it's tinged with fear. “Why aren’t you healing?”

Stiles' head flops to the side and he watches through hazy eyes at the chaos in the yard. The fire is still burning bright enough to see people checking on each other, EMTs loading people into ambulances, and the fire department is dousing the house with water even though it’s going to be a total loss. Probably trying to keep it controlled since it couldn’t be saved.

He hadn’t noticed anyone's arrival. He isn’t sure how long he had been there, how long he had been singing before they’d arrived.

The lawn is a scramble of bodies and splashes of light. He tries to follow people around but he can’t find enough focus to make out anyone specific. He can’t find Derek and Cordy in the shadows and flickers of flame.

“Stiles, look at me.” Rough warm hands turn his face back until they make eye contact. “You're not healing yourself. Why aren’t you healing?” He demands.

“Tanks empty. Too weak.” He grits out. He can feel tears slipping from his eyes and can't tell if it's from the smoke or the pain. Every piece of him aches and he feels void, wiped of energy. Utterly weak. Anger had consumed him past thought, past reason, and he’d pushed all his rage, everything that he had was put into his song while keeping nothing for himself. Staying awake while looking for his family was a struggle.

“Stiles, kid, hook into me. Take some from me.”

Stiles shakes his head, or at least he tries to. “You’ll die if I can’t let go.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a hundred years old, remember? Might as well be me.” His dad tries to joke but it falls flat. Stiles knows it's bad if he’s lying to him and trying to tell him he’ll be okay.

“’m not gonna make it.” He slurs the realization, thinking about what he knows about gunshot wounds to the stomach. He’d done a project in 7th grade about gunshot wounds and the statistics weren’t great, even for supernatural creatures. His head falls to the side again and he tries to focus through the pain and stinging in his eyes. He tries to find Derek in the fray of bodies moving through the smoke lingering in the air. They have to be there, they have to be okay.

“I need help over here!” His dad yells over him to the scrambling mass of first responders dealing with the chaos around them.

“Stiles, listen to me.” He demands using a hand to move Stiles' head back around until he can see just how large the pupils in his dads eyes are, how pale he’s become, fear so clearly etched onto his face in a way he hasn’t seen since his mom was dying. “You need to hook into me, you’re losing too much blood.”

“Is Derek okay? Did he make it?” His lips are tacky together. His mouth tastes like blood.

“What does that matter, Stiles! You’re losing too much blood. Hook into me right now!” There's an urgency that changes his dads voice into something he’s never heard.

“Is Cordy okay?”

“Stiles, you need to hook me.”

“I can’t.” Swallowing is a lost cause. His mouth is full of copper and ash, there isn’t enough saliva to move any of it away. It's a sludge in his airway he can't clear. “I won't let go.” He knows it. He knows his consciousness is barely something he can hang onto as it is. He can’t risk holding someone else's lifeline as collateral for his own when he knows he won't be able let go.

“Stiles don’t,” He spits. “You can still make it. Please, just hook-”

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice cuts his dad off and if he could have laughed with joy at the sound.

Derek was alive.

“You’re okay.” Stiles whimpers out as Derek knees hit the ground beside him. What little air is in his lungs is rushed out in a sigh of relief.

There is soot on Derek's face, lines of sweat making random patterns of cleaner skin from his forehead and the corner of his eyes. Eyes that are wide and afraid similar to the way his dads are.

He looks beautiful to Stiles. He’s alive and it's magnificent.

Large familiar hands cup his cheeks, warm and trembling. “Hey, hey babe."

Stiles wants to scream, he wants to laugh, all he can muster is the upturn of his lips. Derek is alive.

He watches Derek's eyes flick down to what is by now his soaked shirt along with his father's soaked coat. There's an added amount of pressure and he groans under the new wave of pain.

"What happened? Why aren't you healing?" He asks before turning to John. “Why isn’t he healing?”

“He doesn’t have any energy left. He needs to hook into someone and he won’t hook into me.”

Derek turned back to him. “Hook me.”

“No.” Stiles breathed. “I wont let go.” He knows how dangerous it is to try and hook into someone when he is this weak. He could kill Derek. It isn’t worth the risk.

“I can handle it!” Derek yells down at him.

“I can’t.” The words get caught in his mouth.

“You can. I’ll be fine.” Derek’s hand grips tighter on his face and for the first time Stiles notices the black trailing up Derek other arm pressed down on his stomach. The lines are so thick his arm is almost completely black and he can't feel the pain anymore.

He realizes that might be from blood loss more than anything.

“I’ll be fine, Stiles. Okay? But you won't be if you don’t and I need you. We have to talk to our parents next week, remember? I can’t do it without you.” Derek whines. “Just hook into me, okay? Then you can heal and then we can spend all week worrying about next weekend like we planned.”

“‘I’m gonna hurt you.” He feels like he’s drowning, being pulled under as he tries to focus on Dereks face, his eyes.

“No.” Derek shakes his head. “It’ll hurt me if you die. It’ll hurt Cordelia if you die. She needs you. I need you and you can’t leave us so hook into me right now dammit.”

It was strange to be able to watch tears fall from someone and feel them land on your face. Tears are warmer than they should be, he thinks. Crying should be cold.

“Cordy’s okay?”

“She won’t be if you leave her. Stiles please, please.” Derek begs, bending down to push their foreheads together. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles eyes slide to the side to find Cora holding Cordy to her shoulder. He can see that shes crying small face puffy and blotched red and for a moment her tear filled eyes lock on his and then Cora is turning her head into her neck, blocking the view. “It’s okay baby. Daddy's fine.” Cora tries to soothe when Cordy begins to fuss at being manhandled.

“Cora, get her out of here.” Derek demands.

She steps out of Stiles view and Stiles wants her to come back. He wants his small family together. He wants to stay with them.

He wants to live, enough so that he’s willing to risk it to keep them.

He lifts a hand to the back of Derek's neck pulling the best he can and Derek comes back down without hesitation.

“Dad,” Stiles says with all the volume he can muster.

“Yeah kid.”

“Let them sever my hold if I can’t do it myself. Promise me.”

“Stiles, I can’t-”

“You can.”

“You’ll die Stiles, I can’t.”

“Promise me or I’ll die right now.”

Derek whines at that and his father chokes on a sob.

“I-I promise.” He spits through tears before screaming for help again.

“Derek, I love you. You know that right?” The edges of his vision flicker in and out and he wants Derek to know he is loved. If he doesn’t make it he needs Derek to know that one thing. “I love you.” He says again.

“Tell me when this is over.” Derek says. “Just sing to me. Please.”

Stiles lets his mouth drop open, a song of love reaching out. It’s the only thing he has left in him to reach out and grab for and when he finds Derek's strand of life he hooks into it. There’s warmth and then everything else fades away.

“Stiles can you hear me? You’re at the hospital. You need to let go of Derek.”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles let go of Derek.” A voice demands. He knows that voice. It’s a voice that has soothed and reprimanded him his whole life.

He feels the strand of Derek's life he’s hooked into and it’s thin. It’s too thin. He can’t let go, he’ll die. He tries to push some life through the line for him, to make him stronger.

“Stop that. Let him go.”

He ignores the voice. He holds Derek's thread tighter.

A blow lands across his cheek, intensely sharp and jarring enough that his eyes snap open and he takes a lung shattering breath. Melissa is bent over him, her hair brushing next to his face and voice is firm.

“You’re going to be okay. Derek’s going to be okay. But you have to let us have him alright? Let him go.”

His eyes blink a few times before sliding shut.

“Stiles,”

He lets Derek go.

Stiles feels the soreness of his body and the dryness in his mouth before consciousness finds him and with that comes the pain. Everything hurts. Every part of him feels like a wash cloth wrung too tight. He fights against it clawing from underneath the haze until his eyes flick open in a darkened room.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize where he is. He is intimately acquainted with the Beacon Hills hospital after all the time he sat by his mothers bedside. The sterile smell hits him next. Metallic tang and bleach, antiseptic and stale hospital air. It’s enough to set his heart racing, pulling him the rest of the way to alertness.

He fumbles his hand around until he finds the button on the side of the bed pushing it and pushing it and pushing it.

He hates hospitals. Ever since he had held his mothers hand as she’d slipped away from him and after when he’d sat with her waiting for someone to notice, he’d hated hospitals. But waking up alone in one was worse. He could feel his heart rate climbing, hear it with each beep of the machines tracking his vitals and each intake of breath that didn’t quite fill his lungs.

He tries to sit up but his stomach pulls painfully at the motion and he falls back onto the bed in an attempt to escape the pain. He can’t breathe. He’s trying but it hurts and no one is coming and the button isn’t working.

“Oh thank God.” Melissa’s voice cuts into his panic.

She lets out a sigh that she’s probably been holding since he’d been admitted.

“Mel I can’t-'' He gasps and he sees her take in his state of panic.

“Stiles, you're okay.” She crosses the room and takes his hand in hers, placing the other gently on his cheek.

“Can’t breathe, I can’t-”

“Yes you can.” She says and pulls his hand up to her chest. “You can breathe with me okay?”

She takes exaggerated breaths, loud and insistent, over exaggerated so that he can feel her chest rising under his palm, and he mimics her.

“There you go. Breathe with me.” She smiles softly at him. “You aren’t alone. I’ve got you.”

“Okay.” Stiles breathes out. “Okay.” His body has gone sticky with sweat, his surgical gown sticking uncomfortably to every bit of him.

“That's good kiddo. Real good.” She gives him that mom smile she’s been giving him since he was twelve and it further serves in calming his frayed nerves. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Shot?” Stiles asks stupidly. He remembers his father kneeling over him, freaking out. “Was I shot?”

“Yes. You were shot. When you got here your body still wasn’t strong enough to heal itself so they had to do surgery to stop the bleeding. Once you were stable your body took over and healed the rest of the way.”

“Then why do I hurt so much?” Stiles groans.

“You were still shot.” Melissa chuckles. “And you drained your whole body with that stunt you pulled to rescue everyone at the Hales. I’d guess you are going to hurt for a few days if not a whole week after all that.”

It takes his hazy mind a moment to catch up with the program. “Oh my god, is Derek okay? Did I hurt him?”

The hand on his face tightens slightly. “You didn’t hurt him, Stiles. He’s fine. You let go.” She reassures him.

“Oh god.” He falls back onto the bed. “Did you slap me?”

“I had to do something.” She shrugs. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“No, thank you.” He feels the adrenaline start to fall from him. “I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep.” She mocks softly. “I’ll call your Dad and let him know you’ll be up soon.”

Stiles eyes slide shut and he hears her add, “and I’ll let Derek know too.”

The next time he wakes, daylight shines into his room and there is a small child trying to crawl up his torso demanding his attention.

“Hey baby.” He chokes out, reaching down to pull her up. “You’re okay.”

His father laughs and lets go of her so she can climb up his body unhindered. Her small arms wrap around his neck tight, her little hand folds around his ear tugging lightly. “Hey Cordy love.” He says into her hair. “You’re okay.”

“She’s been trying to climb up on you for an hour. I figured you’d slept enough for now.” His father says from the side of the bed. Stiles reaches out over the railing for his fathers hand and squeezes it tightly when he gets it.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?”

“I’m fine.” He answers, then backtracks because his entire body feels like a bruise. “Or I'll be fine. I’m sore and tired but I’ll be fine.” He looks around the room. “Where’s Derek?”

“You’re boyfriend,” His father draws out the word, “just went down to the caff to get us some coffee.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, kid.” His father smiles affectionately. “Thanks to you a lot of people are okay. You saved lives last night Stiles.”

He tightens his arm around Cordelia, holding her tighter to his chest. She doesn’t seem to mind, nuzzling further into his neck mixing their scents. He can’t imagine how scared she must have been the night before. She was so young during the first attack, he prays she won't remember this one either.

“You seem okay with Derek.”

“Can’t say I’m not surprised.” His dad shrugs. “You wouldn’t have been so secretive about it otherwise. I'm going to need a full rundown on how that development took place but I can get that later. What I don’t understand is why you didn't tell me about this little miss here. You’ve just been keeping her from me this whole time?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

Cordelia’s foot lands on his stomach and he winces. “Can you take her?” Stiles asks.

“Come on kiddo, let him rest a little more.”

It amazed Stiles that his dad was so calm with her and it surprised him how easily Cordelia went with him. As if noticing Stiles' confusion his father chuckled.

“I get you wanting to keep Derek a secret, but my granddaughter? How dare you.” He says face showing mock scandalization before he levels a serious look at him. “You know you have to move back to town now, right?”

He’s about to retort when Derek nearly crashes back into the room, eyes wide and shifting between their human hazel and bright blue. His jaw is tight, the line of his shoulders tense and Stiles has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Derek,” Stiles' breath hitches.

Derek’s across the room in an instant. He sets the coffees on the side table and then pauses, hands out in front of him like he wants to touch but doesn’t know if he is allowed to. Like he is afraid he is going to hurt him if he does.

Stiles reaches for him and Derek crumbles half crawling onto the bed, one hand at Stiles cheek, the other sliding to the back of his neck squeezing tightly.

“I was so afraid.” Stiles breathes out.

“Are you kidding?” Derek says incredulously, voice tight and Stiles can hear the hitch in his breath. “I wasn’t the one bleeding out on my parents lawn. God Stiles, I was terrified.”

Stiles blinks against the tears falling from his eyes. “I was so mad.” He grits out. “I was so mad and I couldn’t find you or Cordy and I-”

“We’re okay. You saved us.” Derek kisses his forehead. “You saved my family and my pack. You’re incredible. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I didn’t know I could do that.” Stiles laughs. “I just wanted to protect you. I promised I'd keep you safe.”

“You did.”

“And I didn’t hurt you?”

Derek smirks. “Please, you couldn’t even kill me when I was twelve.”

“Oh shut up.” Stiles laughed.

“While this is very endearing,” John's voice breaks into their bubble, “I think little miss and I are going to take our coffee and go be in the hallway away from all the shmoop.”

“Yeah yeah.” Stiles says hiding his heated face from his fathers view. “Go be somewhere else so we can kiss.” It’s clear he’s failed at embarrassing his father when the man just laughs as he leaves the room.

“I need to brush my teeth before there is actual kissing.”

“I don’t care.”

Derek holds his face so gently as he kisses Stiles. There’s a slight tremble to his fingers and he more sighs against Stiles lips than kisses them, relief palpable enough that even without werewolf chemosignals.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Stiles says softly.

“Just don’t ever do anything like that ever again.” Derek rubs his face against Stiles temple before ducking down and pressing his face into the soft space of Stiles throat.

“I’ll do my best.” He thread his fingers through Dereks hair, holding lightly as Derek scent marked along the side of his neck, pausing briefly along the way to pepper kisses as he went.

“How are you feeling?” Derek mumbles and it tickles a bit.

“I’m so sore and super tired, but sunny side up so ill take it. Honestly I just want to sleep for a week.”

Derek sits up and smiles sweetly ducking to kiss his lips softly one more time. “That’s understandable.” He says then tips his head towards the door. “We are about to have company.”

“I just said I’m tired.” Stiles whines.

Derek isn’t given time to respond before Scott, Kira, Cora, and Isaac practically fall into his room like some errant pack of puppies. Scott just barely manages to eke out in front of Cora.

“Your dad said you were awake.” Scott greets, not hesitating as Derek had to climb right onto the bed with him. “Jesus Stiles, by the time I got there they were loading you into an ambulance. I didn’t know what the hell happened. I had to get the story from Isaac.”

He’s been friends with Scott for so long he has his scenting ritual down. He tips his head right, then left, dodging Scott's face before rubbing the sides of the heads together. He can tell without being a werewolf that his friend is vibrating with nervous energy.

Cora and Isaac aren’t much better. Cora fusses with his hair on the other side that isn't attached to Scott, grooming him like they are bonobos and Isaacs hold on his hand is borderline painful but Stiles squeezes back.

Kira stands with Derek who is smiling behind his coffee cup.

Stiles isn’t used to this much attention.

“I’m fine.” Stiles says again but to a different group of people. He has a feeling he will say it a few more times before the whole ordeal is over. “Honestly, I'm okay.”

Cora pinches his thigh. “You were not okay, you asshole. I thought you were dead.”

“Well I'm not and that hurts.”

“Good!” She pinches him again. “Pain means you’re alive dumb ass.”

“Cora.” Derek growls.

“Derek.” She growls back.

It was a Hale family specialty. The growling and the eyebrows. It was something he was growing quite fond of.

“I like it when you go all growly for me babe.” Stiles winks.

And there's the eyebrows.

Scott, who is still rubbing his head against Stiles, which is surely matting their hair together by now, says “Isaac said you were really scary.”

“Not scary, terrifying.” Isaac corrects.

“Thanks?”

“Dude, I don’t ever want to see you like that again.” Isaac frowned. It looked odd there, Stiles had only ever seen his permanent grin. “Your face was so enraged and your body was just like, pulsing in anger. You smelled like a hurricane.” Cora reached across and grabbed Isaacs hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. “There was so much fear and panic in the air but then you started singing and it was like everything vanished. The fire didn’t matter, the hunters didn’t matter, just your voice filling me with calm, like I was drugged or in some sort of a deprivation tank. Nothing else mattered and I knew I was going to be okay, but,” Isaac stopped and shook his head. “There was this cold that ran beneath all of the good feeling. I knew it wasn’t meant for me but it was haunting. And then when you unhooked everyone but the Argents, Jesus Stiles. They were screaming. It was horrible.”

“It’s less than what they deserved.” Cora snapped and it was Isaacs turn to soothe her with a gentle squeeze on her neck.

“I’m not sorry.” Stiles said quietly. “Maybe I could have handled myself a little better but I just lost it.”

Kira steps closer to the bed then. “You were defending your family, I think losing it a little is more than acceptable.”

Stiles loves Kira. He can’t wait for her to be his sister

Every law enforcement agency that had been after the Argents for years came to take Stiles statement about what had happened at the Hale house. Five Argents out of the fifteen present had survived and been arrested and fell quicker than dominoes when pressed for information about the rest of the operation. By the time Derek was taking him home that evening his father let him know that Gerard Argent was in custody, along with all of his loyal followers. His empire of hate finally destroyed.

Stiles took a shower, washing the hospital and the past day away. It had only been a full day and some change since he left to have dinner with his dad and he was so exhausted. They didn’t talk much while they ate. Derek had reheated things from the fridge and Cordelia sat in Stiles lap half laying against his chest in a tired snuggle. They all crawled in bed while the sun was low in the sky for a family puppy pile and Stiles was asleep in moments.

He wakes up to the sound of Dereks voice coming from the kitchen. He sounds agitated at whoever he’s on the phone with. He nestles himself deeper into the blankets pulling Dereks pillow over to use instead. It smells like him and Stiles sighs into it.

“I know what you want mom, but he is resting. I will ask him when he is awake about if and when he wants to see you.”

Stiles cracks an eye open to look at the clock on the nightstand and is surprised to see he’d slept nearly into the afternoon.

“Derek, I need to speak to him.” Talias voice had his eyes opening all the way. Derek was not on the phone. Talia Hale was in his house, in his kitchen from the sound of it.

“No mom, you want to talk to him. And you can wait until he’s ready. Jesus, he almost died. Give him a few days.”

“I know that Derek. I know that he almost died for us, for you and Cordelia; but I need to speak to him. Please.”

He knew Derek was trying to protect him, and he loved that. But he could also hear the edge in her voice. It was pained and insistent, and Stiles figured it wouldn’t be long until she demanded that Derek allow her to stay.

Stiles sighed knowing they could hear it. “Derek, it's fine. Just let me brush my teeth.” By the time he had made it from the bed to the bathroom Derek was there sporting a pinched face Stiles had never seen before.

“Stiles,” he spoke softly, “you don’t have to do this. Not right now.”

Stiles leveled him with a look over the hand currently scrubbing over his teeth.

“I can tell her to go.”

Stiles spit. “Do you not want me to talk to her?” He asked.

“It isn’t about what I want.”

Stiles runs a damp hand through his hair trying to make it acceptable enough for the impromptu meeting he’s about to have with Dereks mom. Number one nightmare fuel.

He’s surprisingly calm about it.

“Well you didn’t ask me if I wanted to talk to her. And I understand that you are worried about me, but if she made the drive out here I’m willing to listen at least.”

He turned around and stepped in close, wrapping his arms around Derek. He nestles his face against Derek's shoulder more for Derek's benefit than his own.

“I’m okay Derek. I’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Derek speaks into his hair. “I just want to protect you.”

“You do, big bad. But I think I can face your mother. Haven’t you heard? I’m kind of a bad ass.”

Derek snorts and Stiles can feel him relax a bit. He pulls back and places a firm kiss against Derek's jaw. “Where’s Cordy?”

“Outside. Mom brought Laura.”

“We’re surrounded.” Stiles whispers and it garners the chuckle he hoped it would.

Talia Hale did not look the way Stiles expected her to look. Part of him expected her to be something like she had been that day, when she screamed at him, furious and eyes red as she threatened him. He knew that would be a stretch, but he still had expected her to at least be standing proud, the leader of the Hale pack tall, beautiful and regal.

The woman standing before him resembled someone who once was that.

He didn’t know how Derek had managed to sound so angry with her. She looked like she was barely holding it together. Her eyes were red but not the burning Alpha red he is programmed to fear, but rimmed red and bloodshot from lack of rest, or maybe restrained tears. She looked a second from falling apart.

“Hello Stiles.” She greets him holding her head high despite the wavering in her voice. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Alpha Hale.” Stiles bows his head gently in acknowledgment of her status. She may be his boyfriend's mother but she was first and foremost the Alpha of the Hale pack.

He could feel Derek standing, hovering close to his back and he turned smiling softly. “Der, why don’t you go out and see how Cordy is doing?”

“You sure?”

Stiles nods. “I will let you know if I need you.”

Derek squeezes his neck and noses along his jaw, scenting him quickly in clear view of his mother before heading out the sliding door towards the lake.

Stiles watches him until he reaches the shore. He can’t hear what Laura says to him but its clear on her face that she is feeling hesitant to push him.

“Would you like some tea?” Stiles asks as he moves around to grab the kettle.

It clearly wasn’t what she expected him to say as she remained silent for a moment too long. “That would be nice.”

He gets down three canisters with a wince, the stretch on his abdomen pulling a tad painfully, and walked them over to where she is still standing next to the Island. “Derek likes this one but these two are good as well.”

She smelled them all by the time he had pulled two cups down and pushed forward the one that Derek liked the best. It made him smile.

Once the tea was made he handed her a cup and motioned with his head towards the window seat overlooking the lake.

From his perch on the window seat he could see Derek swinging Cordy over the edge of the dock. Derek was clearly keeping an ear towards the house listening for if Stiles needed him. He could hear Cordys giggles just by looking at her face. His body was sore, god it was so sore, but it was absolutely worth it to see the soft smile on Derek's face and the crazed dimples on Cordelias cheeks. He would kill those hunters all over again. He would risk his own life if it kept his small family happy and safe.

He looked to Talia who was holding her cup in her lap and also watching her children and granddaughter. She looked so tired and pulled thin and all the things Stiles thought he would feel for her faded into something like compassion.

“I didn’t hook Derek on purpose. I was eight years old, my mother had just died and I was grieving.” He blew a soft breath over the top of his cup. “I love your son, I love our daughter, I love our life, and I will do everything in my power to protect it. So if you are upset with the way that I handled things I-”

“I’m not.” She cuts him off. “I’m not here to fight with you. I’m here to thank you.” She turns her head slightly but doesn’t meet his gaze. “You saved my family, you saved my pack. There isn’t anything I can do or say to repay that.”

She lifted her cup up to her lips but lowered it again without taking a sip. “I know I’ve caused problems for you. I knew you hooked Derek by accident. Alan told me what happened but my prejudice and my pride kept me from admitting my wrongs. I refused to bend to my ego and I turned a blind eye to the way you were being treated and perpetuated distrust instead of admitting my faults. I have caused you pain that was unnecessarily cruel of me.”

“Yeah.” Stiles barely kept in his scoff. It was such a haughty way to explain what had happened.

“And yet you almost lost your life saving ours.” She continued. “I know you were trying to protect Derek and Cordelia, but you were able to extend that umbrella to the rest of us.”

Derek threw Cordelia to Laura who dipped her feet in the lake before swinging her up above her head. Stiles didn’t need to have supernatural hearing to enjoy their laughter and warmth. He could feel it. He knew it intimately.

“You did fuel problems for me.” Stiles agrees, because he isn’t about to pretend that shit didn’t happen or that it wasn’t led by her charge. “I didn’t deserve any of that. I was a child whose mother had died and I didn’t know how to control my powers yet and your word created a world for me in which I couldn’t defend myself against everyone that believed that I was a monster. Even now I am still thought of as a danger. I can’t even shop in town without conflict because your daughter thinks I tried to murder her brother. I can’t go out to lunch with my father because people talking about you and acting wary of you is kind of an appetite killer, you know?”

He sighs. Getting angry isn’t going to help him.

“But I don’t want to live in that anymore. And I don’t think that's what you want either.”

“No.” She agrees. “No, I don’t want that at all.”

“Good.” His tea was cool enough to drink and it had the soothing effect he had hoped for. “In light of our new understanding of each other I think it would be nice if you and my father came to a new understanding on your own.”

“I’m sure that the Sheriff and I can accomplish that.”

“Good.” Stiles nodded to himself. “Awesome.” He shifted himself until he was facing her. She looked about as bad as he felt but at least he didn’t have to do anything or be in charge of a pack for a few days. The smile he gave to her was genuine.

“I look forward to being someone you know.”

The watery smile she turned to him further dissipated old hurts. “I look forward to knowing you Stiles.”

The transition to living back in town is rough. It takes more than just Talias word for the long tradition of mistrust and vehemence to dissipate when Stiles enters life with Derek on a regular basis for all eyes to see.

Derek tends to overreact at peoples unease which frustrates Stiles to no end and they fight about it more than is healthy for their relationship.

It takes a while but eventually people calm down. Every trip in and out of the house isn’t met with some sort of side eye or comment and Stiles starts to relax. News spreads slowly but surely about Talia and the Sheriff working together both publicly and amicably. Almost even friendly with one another.

Cordelia starts daycare. Stiles business picks up. Derek starts to take more of an active roll in the pack.

The first time Stiles goes to one of the pack meetings he has to leave early. Between the stares in awe and the accusing stares he gets overwhelmed very quickly. Luckily Cordelia is also having an off night so absconding away with her work as an excuse.

It gets easier though. He’s surrounded by Derek and Cora and Isaac and Scott, because Scott has taken it upon himself to become a full member of the pack seeing as Stiles is with the Alphas son.

Derek's Uncle Peter becomes an unlikely ally who thinks Stiles is hilarious and becomes his personal bodyguard somehow. Quick to push off any unwanted attention or vitriol from any of the remaining pack members that are still bothered by his presence.

Living in town becomes really nice though. Derek is home early and they get to visit his dad more often. He and Cordy are inseparable getting on like the wildfire he knew they would be. He spoils her with toys and treats and takes her once a week so he and Derek can have a night to themselves.

Scott and Kira have him involved in the wedding planning. Derek and Kira are basically the same person, both more practical thinkers to Stiles and Scotts more outlandish ideas and they can somehow keep up with the rhythm that Scott and Stiles have built up over many years of friendship. Even Stiles dad can’t do that when they really get going.

Isaac moves into an apartment down town after selling his business. He has plans to open another shop but is taking a few months to settle in and scout for locations. It surprises no one when Cora moves her things in a week later.

It all levels out. Its better than he thought it would be and he’s genuinely happy in a way he never thought he could be especially staying in Beacon Hills.

I hate this.” Stiles groans. He’s being dramatic, he knows he is, but there is a weight that has been growing in his stomach for over a week now that hasn't subsided no matter what he has done.

Derek has assured him that the pack had a stern talking to about their behavior regarding Stiles. Apparently Talia had taken making amends more seriously than Stiles could have hoped and once everyone had recovered from the attack had called a mandatory pack meeting to discuss him. Which was overwhelming in its own right but whatever she had said had a near immediate impact.

Around town things became creepily nice overnight. Derek said she didn’t Alpha order people into being nice to him but everyone was. It was mostly eerie more than anything.

“It’s going to be fine.” Derek reassured him once again.

It wasn’t really reassuring.

“I’m going to be surrounded.”

“By a bunch of people who basically owe you a life debt. It's just a cookout, if you need to hide behind Cordelia then you can.”

“She’s going to immediately abandon me for Cora.”

Cordelia and Cora had become inseparably close. Little partners in crime and Stiles was not looking forward to that influence when she hits her teen years.

“You can hide behind me then.” Derek reached his open hand across the center console.

Stiles sighed and took Derek's hand in his own. It helped to ease some of the dread. “If I don’t make it out alive I love you.”

From the back seat Cordelia piped up. “Lub you.”

“Lub you too munchkin.”

Cordelia abandons him for Cora the second she was out of her car seat.

“No.” Stiles whines. “I need her to protect me.”

Cora, unhelpfully, laughs at him. “You shouldn’t use your child as a shield, you weirdo.”

Before Stiles can argue further Cora spins around and practically skips away in some sort of sadistic child shield stealing glee.

“You’ll be fine.” Derek says softly, handing him the diaper bag. “Come on.” Derek takes his hand and it is somewhat reassuring and he follows him inside.

It was amazing how different the house looked during the day and when it wasn’t on fire. The investigation into the Argents had taken a week to close before they were able to strip down and rebuild. Luckily the damage that had been done was contained to one side of the house and once they stripped it down they realized the foundation of the home and the bones of the home were still good.

“Stiles, is there a reason you smell like prey?”

Stiles whipped around to where Peter was leaning against the back of their car. He hadn’t heard him approach.

“Maybe because there are lurkers around, like you?”

Peter splays his hand across his chest in feigned shock, eyes going wide in exaggeration.

“I would never lurk. It’s undignified.”

“Oh you lurk alright." Stiles laughs. "l bet you have a PHD in lurking. Master of the lurk."

“Well I guess lurking does have its purposes. Dirty deeds, dark corners and all that.”

“Yes, that could work.” Stiles rubs his hands together like little raccoon finding some delicious trash. “Dark corners, not dirty deeds. I can hide in a dark corner right? I bet you have all sorts of little places you can stash me away.”

“Don't worry.” Peter grins leaning in close and conspiratorially. “I’ll find you a nice dark spot and you can hide right behind me.”

“Peter, you are my favorite.”

“I know.” 

“Enough you absolute weirdos.” Derek says with a laugh. His hand wraps around Stiles elbow and pulls him back enough that he can slip his arm from his elbow to around his back squeezing his hip. “You stay right here with me.”

There is a slight growl to his voice and for some reason, probably the adrenaline, it makes Stiles giggle. Peter is rolling his eyes but staying close, and he can hear Cordelia letting out a laugh from inside the house.

“You’ll be fine.” Derek says into his ear.

“Yeah.” Stiles agrees. “I’ll be fine.”