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Derek doesn’t even know why he’s here.
Okay, that’s a lie - he knows why he’s here. He just thinks it’s stupid. He’s not the Alpha, and he’s sure as hell not a people person. So why does he have to be here to greet the McCall delegation? And he’s jittery, a little sick in his skin, because -
They hadn’t wanted to tell him. Like it fucking would have been better as a surprise, out of blue - jesus christ, it’s like they don’t even know him - oh, yeah, here’s a human . Surprise! Maybe it was supposed to be a test, to see how he’s coping with it all.
(Spoiler alert, not fucking well.)
But Cora let it slip last night. The McCalls have a human in their pack. It makes Derek’s skin itch just to think about it. There’s some suspicion in his pack that the kid might be training to be an Emissary, or at least be a Spark, but that doesn’t make it any better. (Makes it fucking worse, in Derek’s opinion.)
But he’s here. Because his mother had asked - practically begged - and at least that way he can keep an eye on the fucking human they’re letting into pack headquarters like it’s nothing. On his best days, Derek’s one wrong breath away from just leaving it all behind, going feral and taking off into the woods. This is not his best day, not by far.
His feet crunch on the gravel of the drive and he focuses on that, not on the way he wants to claw himself out of his skin. The sun’s beaming in through the trees, and the warm summer day makes it all smell like pine and sun-baked grass, almost overstimulating to Derek’s nose. He wants to sneeze, but pushes away the urge - it’s far too undignified. (Cora always says he sneezes like a baby bunny, whatever that means. The ways of his sister’s mind are incomprehensible to mere mortals such as himself.) In front of him, his mother looms - he’s not hiding, he’s not - doing introductions. The pack had arrived moments ago, Talia stepping gracefully out the door as if she’d timed it, a queen ready to greet visiting royalty. (Not that the Beacon Hill pack counts as royalty. In this metaphor, they’d be - upstart new money, or something.)
He’d heard the car long before he’d seen it, and had spent the interminable in between moments counting his heartbeat, wondering if it was too late to run away (it had been). The car had pulled up into the drive and came crunching to a halt, and Derek had taken a subtle half step, so that he was standing behind Talia - he didn’t want to look at anyone, especially not the human, and hell if he wanted the kid looking at him. If he just stood here strong and silent, he figured, maybe they’d mistake him for a bodyguard, and then no one would try to talk to him. (Hey, a ‘wolf can dream, right?)
A gaggle of people - kids really, fuck they’re all so young - had piled out of the car with stupid, get-you-killed levels of enthusiasm, and to Derek’s deep disturbance, the near youngest looking of the group, a boy with a crooked jaw and puppy dog eyes, had turned out to be the Alpha. Ridiculous.
And now he was here, sitting through interminable introductions, wanting to be anywhere else. His Mark itches, and he scratches irritably at it; the best moments are when he can forget the damned thing exists. Like he’d ever want a soulmate, despite what Cora always says. Who’d want to be shackled to him, anyways? He’s done romance before, and look how that worked out.
Derek starts paying attention again when Cora elbows him in the side, just in time to hear his mother introduce him - fuck no, but his sister’s digging her fucking talons in his side, so he takes a step out from his mothers shadow and looks up, trying to paste some semblance of a smile on his face -
And makes immediate eye contact with the human.
Something deep and primal inside him growls, and Derek’s probably stopped breathing - or maybe it’s just that the rest of the world has stopped. He’s taking in stimuli in bits and pieces, his ‘wolf nearly entirely in control - the kids not as much as a kid as he thought, tall and slender, the arch of his spine, the dip of his collarbones, the long stretch of his neck which should be fucking illegal - Derek wants to bite him , wants it so bad his mouth starts watering - the kid’s got messy brown hair and stupid wide doe eyes and so many freckles Derek wants to count them.
It’s only when Derek takes a breath that his brain comes back online enough to see the Mark and - oh god , oh no - how could he have missed it before, really? The Mark - their Mark - it’s not really something to miss, is it? Not with the way the kid holds himself, chin tipped up, Mark scrawled dark and delicate across that fucking expanse of skin, more central than Derek’s. It kisses the hollow of his collarbones, traces up the side of his neck, just barely brushes the edge of his jaw.
Derek’s torn between horror and desire, the primal part of him longing, the conscious part of him five seconds away from a panic attack. He’s got no concept of time, but apparently it’s been long enough that someone’s noticed something is wrong (the kid staring at him open mouth, like he’s never seen something so gorgeous) because Cora’s got her hand on his shoulder, talking to him in a low voice, like she can reassure this away: ‘Derek, wait. This is Stiles, I told you about him, remember? From the Mccall pack? Derek - ‘
And he realizes - she thinks he’s mad, that he’s going feral, not because Stiles is his soulmate but because of the human thing - she hasn’t realized , but someone else has, of course.
‘Don’t worry, pup,’ his uncle says, surveying the kid appraisingly, and Derek chokes down the possessive growl that’s his first instinct. ‘Your brother isn’t experiencing a fit of homicidal rage against any and all humans. No, I’d reckon his interest is slightly… in the other direction.’ He directs his eyes meaningfully to the kid’s Mark and the kid jumps, covering it with his hand, and this time Derek can’t suppress the low, possessive growl which rolls through him. Part of him is gratified to see the way the kid flushes at the sound, the way his eyes dilate.
‘Oh, shit,’ the kid murmurs, apparently just now seeing Derek’s Mark for the first time. In his defence, Derek’s jacket collar does its best to hide it. The same part of Derek that’s elated right now tips his head to the side so the kid - his mate - can see it better, and the kid does, looks his fucking fill, sucking in a breath, his eyes locked on Derek’s neck.
And - ‘ Derek ,’ the kid says, like he’s got the fucking right to, like he’s allowed to just - say Derek’s name, except apparently he is, because the next sound Derek lets out is a plaintive, needy thing that barely qualifies as a growl. Fuck . He needs to get a handle on himself, but the kid’s stepping towards him now, and Derek doesn’t know what to do - he’s freaking out, he can’t think -
But then Boyd, bless him, gets his arm out, stopping the kid, and it’s only later that Derek realizes Talia ordered it. Fuck , he thinks, trying to breathe - but the kid is talking again, and Derek can’t focus on anything but his voice.
He’s apologizing, and - Stiles. His name is Stiles. Derek takes that in, tries to catch his breath, but the knowledge of it all is hitting him, and he’s -
Part of it feels like Kate is laughing at him, like this was part of some twisted plan she’d concocted, after she tried to kill his entire family and him. He doesn’t know how to be happy about this. He wants to speak, to apologize to the kid - to Stiles - but he can’t seem to make his tongue work.
He takes in another breath, panic running through his veins, one thought in his head: he has to get away. To be anywhere, anywhere , but here.
So, even though it feels like ripping a piece of himself out, even though his Mark is pulsing almost painfully, he forces himself to turn and run for the woods.
He can’t do this. He can’t . Even if - even if Stiles isn’t evil, and cruel, and manipulative, like Kate was - Derek’s broken.
Stiles will be better off without him.
The kid will figure that out eventually.