Fic: Sacrifices [Birthday Fic for Casness!]
Title: Sacrifices (or the one where Stiles becomes Pack Mum accidently)
Author: Demira_Watson
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, Language, naked Stiles, sarcasm galore, talk of rape but no actually sexual abuse of any kind, Sex (Slash), Frottage, Mpreg, knotting, cuddly wolves.
Disclaimer: Jeff Davis is king of this fandom, we are only his minions.
Summary: Every decade the town of Beacon Hills drags a virgin out into the middle of woods to sacrifice to the local Werewolf pack. It was supposed to be Allison Argent but Stiles is a good friend…and has terrible luck.
Authors Note: My first foray into the Teen Wolf fandom, so please don’t kill me. Mother of god this was supposed to a small fic! SMALL! *head desk*I fail at keeping my muse in line… Also this un-beta-ed. So all mistakes are mine, sorry… I suck at grammar…
Anyway this is a birthday ficcy for casness! She is an amazing writer, an awesome Beta and an epic friend! Happy Birthday m’dearie! I hope you enjoy this ficcy and that you have an fantastic birthday!
Sacrifices
…or the one where Stiles becomes Pack Mum accidently
Stiles doesn’t know how he gets into these situations.
One minute he’s hanging out with his best friend near their favourite lake and the next…he’s tied to a pole in the middle of Wolf territory as a virgin sacrifice.
Seriously! It’s not like he asks for this crap…Ok he did this time. But this was for Scott (who apparently is the perfect gentleman and still hasn’t gotten jiggy with Allison Argent which makes Stiles question what all the goofy smiles were about if he wasn’t getting horizontal with the girl. His friend was supposed to be deflowering the Argent’s little princess not singing show tunes outside her window every night!). When the council had pointed at Allison and declared her this decade’s virgin for the werewolf pack nearby, Scott had looked heartbroken. And what was Stiles supposed to do? Stand back and let Scott’s one true love get carted off to appease some furry problem. Hell no!
Because Stiles is a good friend.
And some higher power is going to reincarnate him as a millionaire with a ten inch cock in the next life for this colossal mess.
So as Scott is attempting to cut through the crowd of villagers to embrace Allison one last time, Stiles stands up and yells ‘She’s not a virgin!’ at the top of his stupid lungs effectively halting the process (and perhaps murdering his best friend if Chris Argents stony glare is anything to go by).
Chaos naturally ensues because apparently every girl in the village is a big slut and there are no more virgins. Except him. Thank you Jackson for pointing that out in front of the crazed mob with rope.
So this is how he ends up tied to a pole, during the full moon, in the middle of Werewolf territory. The fact that the pole is now horizontal and Stiles has a major concussion is due to poor craftsmanship and Stile’s amazing brand of shitty luck.
Stile’s hates his life…
“I thought virgin sacrifices were girls?” Stile’s blinks trying to rid the blurry fog that’s descended over his eyes. There’s three new people standing on their sides…no wait Stiles is on his side, they’re the right way up.
“Don’t be sexist Isaac.” A woman snaps.
“I’m not it’s just…well…Derek’s not gay is he?” The one called Isaac asks nervously and Stiles wonders who the fuck is Derek and what the hell is happening. Oh, right, virgin sacrifice. Hello reality, please fuck off.
“Not our place to ask.” A dark skinned man mutters.
“Thanks Boyd, real helpful. Isaac is right though, they always bring a girl out here.” The woman sighs and flicks a long strand of blonde hair over her shoulder. Stiles desperately wants to agree and then talk his way out of this mess but his mouth feels like its stuffed with cotton wool and his head hurts way too freaking much.
“Thank you!” Isaac yells justified.
“Shut up Isaac.” The woman snaps again with a growl. “So either the girls are getting uglier-,”
“Defiantly a guy, look that’s a dick!” Holy shit! Stiles is being molested! Rape! Rape! Where’s his damn whistle!?
“Isaac put his pants back on!” Boyd shouts and Stiles relaxes as his molestation ends.
“- or all the girls in town are sluts.” Stiles wants to laugh because it’s true and he’s in the wrong place really.
“…”
“Wonderful.” The woman sighs dramatically.
“Derek’s not going to like this.” Isaac mutters and Stiles can hear the whine in his voice.
Stile’s hates his life. So damn much.
Stiles wakes up naked in a strange place.
This has unfortunately happened before, more times than Stiles is happy with…However he’s never woken to find himself in a cave being stared at by the freaking Alpha of the Beacon Hills pack (who is shirtless which is so not helping Stiles freak out). There is no way that Stiles can mistake that ‘fuck you’ air or those eyes as anything else but the bloody Alpha.
It’s entirely the Alpha’s fault that he screams like a little girl with pig tails.
The Alpha merely raises a delicately sculpted eyebrow. His eyes are a luminous crimson and he just keeps staring at Stiles blankly.
“Uh Rape!” Stiles yells nervously just like his Dad taught him too. The second perfectly sculpted eyebrow joins its mate high on the Alpha’s tanned forehead.
“Rape?” And wow that is a deep sexy voice…Stiles needs to cover up before something twitches and gives the impression that he wouldn’t mind being deflowered by the local furry problem. He does with his hands, one acting like a cup around his family jewels and the other across his nipples, like a freaking girl. What is wrong with him?
“Force of habit when being stared at by creepy Alpha’s.” Stiles replies glancing around the dark cave. It’s as large as a normal bedroom, dry though with a just-rained scent and its actually pretty cosy. Not all that menacing. There are a few half burned thick cream candles strategically placed around the rocky shelter to give it a warm soft light. “Can I have the name of your decorator?”
“What?” At least Mister Blank as become Mister Confused, that’s progress. Sort of…
“It’s nice in here.” Stiles replies fully aware that sometimes he has to explain his thought process for people to understand him. Heck Scott’s known him for years and he still needs a Stiles-to-English dictionary on occasion. Stiles likes to think he’s ahead of the curve, it makes him feel better.
“Thank you.” The Alpha nods. The conversation appears to have died a horrific death and Stiles is left holding what’s left of his dignity in a very awkward silence, still under the unmoving, unblinking gaze of the freaking Alpha. He may be freaking out…
“Soooo…” Stiles says loudly flinching as his voice echoes. “What now?”
“Now would be the point where the former Alpha would have tuned you and fucked you raw until you bled.” The Alpha replies bluntly and Stiles panics momentarily before he picks up on the key word. Former. As in new, as in this is not the Alpha who Stiles has grown up hearing horror stories about. He swallows thickly and attempts to calm his racing heartbeat.
“Former? Are you under new administration?” Stiles asks weakly.
“I’m Derek Hale. My uncle was the former Alpha. I killed him.” Blunt and to the point and he’s still not blinking.
“If you’re taking suggestions for your new rule, can I suggest no raping or turning? Please.” Stiles can feel himself begin to shake as he waits patiently for Derek’s answer.
“I’m not my Uncle.” Derek states. Stiles relaxes as he slumps into himself. “But I can’t let you go.”
“Eh?” Stiles squeaks.
“If the town finds out that Peter’s dead, they’ll try to re-negotiate the terms of our cohabitation. Once they realise I’m not a cold blooded psychopath like my Uncle, they’ll come and wipe us out.” Derek explains slowly. Stiles nods.
“I get that…So no raping and turning?” Stiles checks.
“No raping or turning.” Derek summarises. “But no escaping or I will kill you.” He adds as he leaves the cosy cave through a section of the wall.
Wonderful at least he’s not fucked literally now.
So Stiles is a captive of a possibly crazy Alpha who is related to the former psychopath Alpha and he’s naked…plus he’s pretty sure he was molested by a member of Derek’s pack earlier that evening…day, week? How long has he been sitting in Derek’s nicely decorated cave?
His Dad has probably hit the booze cabinet by now. With no one to stop the amber flow of alcohol who knows how long his Dad will last? With any luck Melissa McCall will be there to place a hand over his crystal tumbler.
Scott’s probably doing what he should have done weeks ago, fucked Allison Argent into De-Virgin-Ville. He’ll freak out later, maybe pout and cry at the tragic loss of his heroic best friend. Maybe he and Allison will name their kid after him and raise the little tyke on stories of how Stiles Stilinski saved his mum from unknown danger.
Lydia Martin will probably never notice he’s missing. She’ll make up with the tool formerly known as Jackson Fucking Whittemore and they’ll have beautiful athletic children that will never know how their father sold Stiles down the furry river with a smirk.
He needs to get some clothes and get outside before he loses it. Making up hypothetically children for people he knows is not normal, nor is it particularly healthy to already think of himself as dead. Fresh air is just what he needs.
There’s a dark wooden chest in the corner, hand carved by the looks of the things, Stiles’s guesses that it is his best shot for clothing. There’s a three turn spiral carved neatly into the top, a triskelion if memory serves him right. Inside the box are clothes, Stiles cheers, photo albums and small wooden figurines. Wolves mostly Stiles notices as he picks up a delicately carved wolf mid howl. The detail is extraordinary. He gently places it back amongst its brethren and yanks out an oversized faded red t-shirt and cream sweats.
The t-shirt hangs off him as the sweats pool around his ankles making him look like a toddler in his pajamas instead of a teenager in a hostage situation. He sighs plucking at the top. Nothing for it seen as Derek has seen fit to hide his clothes.
He wanders over to the wall Derek disappeared into and finds it isn’t actually a wall at all, just an optical illusion. He steps out of the cozy cave into a wide corridor. Cool, Derek’s den is like the Labyrinth from that David Bowie movie. Stiles giggles, a little hysterically, before wandering down the hall. He trips over the ends of his borrowed sweat pants multiple times before giving up and rolling them up and into stylish shorts…ok so not stylish but practical.
Stiles isn’t even sure he’s going in the right direction. He could become lost in the catacombs of Derek’s den, doomed to drink moldy water and eat insects until he’s an old wrinkled man emerging from the shadows into the light-
Stile’s really needs to get out of the damn cave.
Eventually (and not years later as he feared) Stiles emerges from the werewolf den to a small open area surrounded all sides by large grey walls of rocks. There’s a small pathway on the opposite side of the open space that must lead to the woods and eventually Beacon Hills.
He could theoretically make a run for it. If you don’t factor in his scrawny chicken legs, his clumsiness, a werewolf’s ability to track a single scent over ten miles away or the fact that there are three werewolves currently curled up under the only tree there watching him with unblinking eyes.
“Hi.” He waves awkwardly.
“He doesn’t smell like sex, maybe he didn’t put out.” One of them says sniffing the air. He’s young and has sandy curly short hair with bright brown eyes. His head is pillowed in the lap of a beautiful blonde woman who’s resting against the buff shoulders of a dark skinned bald boy. The boys are shirtless, obvious following their Alpha’s fashion sense. The woman might as well be shirtless with the three-sizes-too-small almost see through tank top she’s wearing…it really shows of her assets.
“Not everybody puts out on the first date like you Isaac.” The woman snaps pinching Isaac’s bare arm quickly. Isaac flinches before pouting.
“You molested me!” Stiles shouts jumping and pointing accusingly at the young boy. “I feel violated!”
“What do want, some flowers? Dinner and a movie?” Isaac questions sneering. “Sorry but scrawny and nerdy aren’t my type.”
“No. Apparently you prefer to be somebodies bitch. Evidently your female friends.” Stiles resists the urge to say ‘burned’ or stick his tongue out as he tugs at the front of shirt like a pimp and makes for the exit. He doesn’t get very far.
“You want to say that again pipsqueak?” Isaac growls into Stiles ear as he pins him face down into the hard unforgiving ground.
“What’s her name?” Stiles asks roughly as he attempts to pull air into his squished lungs.
“Erica.” The beautiful blonde answers for herself smirking. Stiles nods quickly in greeting.
“Your Erica’s bitch.” Stiles states with no self-preservation skills what so ever. Isaac growls and moves closer. Stiles shuts his eyes tightly waiting for the end. His life flashing before his eyes like a movie of fast forward…it’s boring and short. Oh god.
Horrifically painful death by pissed off werewolf never comes, instead he hears his paper weight yelp as he’s tugged off of Stiles weak human body and chucked aside.
“Boyd, Isaac. Spar.” Derek orders, a flash of red in his eyes. Boyd, the silent member of the trio, simply nods. Isaac bows his head in submission as he scurries away from his Alpha. Stiles is in the middle of pushing himself to his feet with a smirk at his win over the loud mouth pup when he too is grabbed by the scruff. Except Derek just drags him back to the den.
Feeling bold Stiles waves happily at the trio who wave back slowly, clearly confused. Derek doesn’t slow his pace as he roughly directs Stiles like a puppet through the rabbit warren of tunnels. Eventually he stops in an unfamiliar crossroads (who is he kidding the whole den is unfamiliar and confusing). Stiles opens his mouth ready to chat with the Alpha but promptly finds his back against the wall and one very pissed off Alpha bearing down on him.
Derek’s still not wearing a shirt and his muscles ripple like water as he steps into Stiles’s personal space. He growls lightly and Stiles swallows thickly as the sound vibrates through his bones like tuning forks. Derek is still moving forward slowly and Stiles wonders if he’s trying to absorb his scrawny ass like some kind of jelly blob monster.
“Dude.” Stiles squeaks. Derek stops, sniffs the air and steps back.
“I told you not to escape.” Derek voice is thick.
“I didn’t-.” Derek is back in his face throwing his body against the solid rock harshly. Stiles grimaces as pain cracks across his back.
“Don’t lie!” Derek shouts, a dangerous snarl pulling his full lips back to reveal his growing fangs.
“Okay! Okay! I thought I’d give it a shot! It was a bad idea I won’t do it again!” Stiles yells trying to dig his way into the wall away from the angry wolf holding him captive.
“Good.” And just like that Derek is human again. He walks away giving Stiles a great view of his ripped back and triskelion tattoo set between his shoulder blades. Not that he really notices as he knees give out and he sinks to the floor. “Get some rest.” Derek yells disappearing around a corner. Stiles whimpers.
“What the hell are you doing!?” Stiles yells when he leaves the warmth and relative safety of the den for the coolness of the dawn air the next morning. The last traces of sleep chased away by the violent show greeting him.
“Teaching.” Derek grunts in reply as he tosses Isaac into a nearby boulder. The scrappy teenager looks like a bloody doll. He’s twitching as he rises, fangs bared in a roar that echoes around the yard. Derek roars right on back and easily throws Isaac aside as the young boy leaps onto his Alpha. There’s fresh blood staining the grass around their feet and sweat glistens off of Derek’s tanned muscles. It’s a pretty sight that Stiles would have loved to enjoy if not for the one-sided heavy weight wrestling match taking place.
“Stop it!” Warning bells ring loudly in Stiles’s ear as he dives between Derek’s intimidating bulk and Isaac’s whimpering smaller form.
“Why?” Derek growls, his irises red instead of the comforting forest green and hazel mix that Stiles observed the other day.
“Why? Why?! You’re asking me why you should stop beating the crap out of someone smaller and weaker then you. Are you cuckoo for coco puffs?” Stiles is fully aware his flailing his arms around like a bad dancer but it’s early and he’s pissed off. He completely ignores Isaac’s offended ‘Hey!’.
Derek just scoffs in Stiles’s face and leaves him and a whimpering Isaac as he returns to the den. Stiles really wants to chase him and push him into a wall. Maybe punch him in the Jigglypuffs. He doesn’t because he does have some self-preservation skills, not many but some. Besides Isaac is whimpering pitifully laid out on the short grass. Someone needs to help the poor puppy and a quick look round leaves Stiles with the responsibility.
“If you bite me I will kick you where it hurts. Got it?” Stiles glares or tries to but Isaac isn’t looking like the confident bully from before, he’s just a broken little boy who got told off by daddy. Isaac nods fighting back tears as he clutches his chest with one arm, like he’s trying to hold the pain inside his ribcage. Stiles sighs and wraps a supporting arm around the curly blonde teenager’s waist.
“There. Sorry we don’t have any Batman band aids.” Stiles mumbles as he finishes wrapping the clean white bandages around Isaac’s chest. The kid is far too skinny and Stiles will have words with Derek later about proper diets and why you shouldn’t beat on your kids.
“Thanks.” Isaac offers quietly. He’s drawn back into himself like a nervous turtle. Stiles thinks Isaac’s emotional state is like a swing set, a really fast swing. It’s giving him whiplash.
“You’re Isaac Lahey aren’t you?” Stiles asks. The niggling familiarity he’s felt around the three pack members yesterday finally made sense after a not-so-restful night.
“Yeah. Why?” Isaac replies wincing as he moves.
“No reason.” Stiles mutters quickly. At least he knew now why the council had plucked a virgin out of the crowd a few months early. Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes and Boyd (whose last name always seemed to escape Stiles) went missing over the last couple of months. His Dad had mentioned something along the lines of ‘presumed dead’ and ‘possibly murdered by werewolves’. Stiles had never really known the three teenagers which is why it took so long to recognize them. Apparently though their disappearance had made enough waves to land Stiles in this position.
Which begged the question, what happened to the giant pack everybody was so scared off?
“Hey. The pack, how come it’s just the three musketeers and grumpy guts?” Stiles quizzed grabbing Isaac’s wrist to stop him escaping.
“Don’t know. It was like this when I got here.” Isaac shrugged and Stiles released his wrist. And the kid had the nerve to call him scrawny…
“Okay then, off you go. I’ll have words with Derek about playing nice with other kids.” Stiles smiled warmly and was rewarded with a small shy smile in return.
Stiles didn’t know why the hell he was actively seeking out the violent Alpha to chat about how he treated his pack members. He blames Isaac and his cute puppy eyes and that tiny genuine smile.
He finds Derek shirtless (which is apparently how he rolls three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year) using a large wooden door support for chin ups. His back is to Stiles and the brunette swallows his tongue. Stiles is beginning to rethink the new administrations rule about not taking advantage of virgins left lying around the local forest. Stiles really wants to be taken advantage off, multiple times and in multiple positions.
“What do you want Stiles?” Derek asks grunting as he pulls himself above the thick support and dropping down again. Stiles is struck dumb by the muscles rippling under the Alpha’s tanned skin. They bunch and release in time with Stiles’s erratic heartbeat. “Stiles!”
“Wha?” Stiles is not proud of the lack of proper words at his disposal now. He blames the bead of clear sweat slowly riding the curves and dips in between Derek’s shoulder blades.
“What. Do. You. Want?” Derek punctuates with every chin up.
“You’re a bad alpha.” That came out like a line from a porn movie. No Stiles is not the lonely housewife and Derek is not the plumber. He can act like an adult. Derek just needs to put his shirt on first.
“Am I?” Derek chuckles before jumping down and turning to face Stiles panting hormonal body with a truly mischievous smirk. Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to Stiles and he’s enjoying it.
“Yes.” Stiles squeaks, he coughs and tries again, “Yes. You are. Seriously what are you feeding Isaac? Tiny portions of doggy treats? He’s too skinny. When was the last time he had a proper meal? And you can’t throw Isaac around like a chew toy anymore its bad for his self-esteem!” Hey, look! Proper words and proper sentences without any hint of lust. Stiles is pretty sure he’s grinning like a loon but he’s proud of himself.
Derek, however, is not.
“Hello wall we meet again.” Stiles mutters as a familiar jarring sensation ricochets through his body. Derek is once again all up in his space, red eyes and fangs too.
“Are you telling me how to run my pack?” Derek questions holding Stiles in place at least a few inches off of the floor.
“Yes! I mean no…maybe?” Stiles grimaces. “Crap.”
“I’ll do what I want, when I want.” Derek growls into Stiles ear and the young teenager stops breathing. Derek moves back slowly sticking close to Stiles’s jawline and dragging his furry sideburns across his cheek. The Alpha is mere millimeters away from him and Stiles is completely surrounded by Derek’s manly scent and corded muscled limbs. He doesn’t breathe just lets Derek’s breath ghost across his. His tongue escapes to lick quickly across his dry lips as Derek returns to his stupidly attractive human form. Derek growls as his keen green eyes follow the movement.
“Do you always sexual frustrate the virgins that get sent your way?” Stiles mumbles as his eyes drop to Derek’s lips.
Wrong thing to say.
“Oof!” Stiles is released violently and left to sprawl across the corridor floor watching Derek’s retreating form and wondering what the fuck just happened.
Stiles stays awake for hours replaying his little moment with Derek over and over and over…Until he has to jack off four times to actually think straight because the memory has mutated into full on wall sex by that point.
Stiles decides to get up and do something productive. Or else he’ll end up with friction burn and a pack of smirking werewolves who’ll totally be able to smell what he did the night before.
Productive turns out to be making a proper meal. Stiles has fed his father for years, he knows how to cook something healthy and filling. He finds the kitchen, eventually, and sets to work opening hand carved cupboards and finding…nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
This answers the question of why Isaac is so skinny. Stiles straightens, closes the cupboards and leaves.
“What is that smell?” Erica mumbles sleepily as she rounds the corner.
“Good morning Sunshine!” Stiles greets happily flipping the fluffy golden pancake into the air and having to push it back into the pan when it fails to actually flip correctly and lands half out of the designated cooking apparatus.
“How?” Erica stares dumbly at the array of food on the table. Stiles smiles and returns his attention to mastering the art of pancake flipping.
“I went shopping. Not in Beacon Hills so don’t panic. There’s a small twenty-four hour store on the highway. Nice walk, got everything you kids need to remain big strong scary werewolves- ACK!” Stiles briefly wonders if this is what an abusive relationship feels like as his back collides with the wall yet again. “Hey Sourpuss, breakfast is ready!” Stiles greets Derek’s angry snarl confidently.
“You escaped!” Derek roars into Stiles face.
“I came back! You guys needed proper food! I was just-.” Stiles chocks as Derek’s hand wraps around his throat. Oh shit he’s actually going to kill me! A voice in the back of Stiles’s mind screams as darkness descends in his vision.
“This is pretty good.” Erica remarks through a mouth full of crispy bacon. Derek reverts to his human state and whips his head round to see Erica munching happily through a plate of food. Isaac and Boyd hover by the kitchen door making pitiful whimpers.
“Eat up kids.” Stiles gestures with a limp arm as he croaks around his crushed windpipe. The two young boys fall upon the table with excitement and dig in to the mountain of healthy breakfast foods Stiles assembled. Stiles accepts that his last good deed on earth is feeding three werewolves a hearty meal…He feels like that has double meaning.
Derek releases his throat and Stiles gasps for breath, his lungs are burning as he sucks in great lungful’s of oxygen. He has a moment of peace before Derek is right back in his face, a long finger squished up against his nose.
“Don’t leave again.” Derek walks out of the kitchen but not before grabbing a full plate from the table. Stiles stares for a moment before pumping both fists into the air in victory with a happy smile across his face.
Erica helps with the washing up after the group has decimated Stiles’s home cooked meal. She’s quiet but has a tiny smirk as she dries the dishes Stiles hands her.
“Did you enjoy breakfast?” Stiles asks trying desperately to fill the creepy silence that’s descended over the kitchen. Isaac and Boyd had fled pretty quickly and Derek still hadn’t returned. He’s alone with a smirking werewolf. His fight or flight response is screaming ‘FLEE BITCH! FLEE!’ Something Stiles thinks isn’t a good sign.
“I did. Thanks.” Erica replies smiling widely, all teeth and lip-gloss. She’s beautiful in a terrifying way. Like a poisonous flower. Stiles doesn’t doubt that if pissed off in anyway, Erica will destroy her enemy. But still he flashes black to the tender moment under the tree, Isaac’s head in her lap as she carded her fingers through his hair. She’s kind and gentle too.
“Good. Maybe if I convince Derek to go shopping once in a while it can be a regular thing.” Stiles finishes the last dish shaking bubbles from his hand.
“Hopefully. Isaac is much too skinny.” Erica pouts as she flicks some stray bubbles back at Stiles. “If he doesn’t bring home the bacon I will.”
“That’s nice of you.” Stiles praises and Erica smiles warmly at him. He’s starting to think they’re warming up to him.
“Thanks for breakfast.” Boyd’s deep voice greets from behind Stiles. He doesn’t scream, he ‘Eeep’s very manly. Although not manly enough if Boyd’s shit eating grin is anything to go by.
“You’re welcome.” Stiles says clearing his throat and shuffles over on the boulder. Boyd takes the invitation and settles beside him. He’s a big built young man with muscles that rival Derek’s, all in a chocolaty coating. If Stiles wasn’t hung up on a certain sexually frustrating sour wolf he’d have been all over Boyd. As if sensing his line of thought Boyd smiles again. “Is Derek still mad that I went for walkies without him?”
“Nah. He likes you.” Boyd shrugs.
“Really? Because he tried to kill me earlier!” Stiles stresses slowly, his hands out stretched as if to say ‘do you see what I see’. Apparently Boyd doesn’t.
“If he didn’t like you he’d have killed you.” Boyd states.
“That’s your gauge here? If I’m dead he hates me?” Stiles stares as Boyd shrugs. “What the hell?!”
“It’s just how Derek is.” Boyd grins and slaps Stiles on the back. It dislodges him from his perch on the boulder and he lands upside down legs akimbo on the grass. Boyd laughs deeply.
Stiles days run on the same theme. He cooks for a horde of hungry pack mates. He cleans and bandages wounds from ‘sparing’. He even gets talked into a make-up tutorial with Erica, which ends with him looking like a clown and running into Derek in the corridor.
“Am I the prettiest girl at the ball?” He asked giggling. Derek had smirked, crowded him into yet another wall and shoved his hand down Stiles’s baggy trousers.
“Nope, not a girl.” And with that he left Stiles bracing himself against the wall.
So Stiles spends his days playing with the puppies (who’ve gradually warmed up to him) and having tantalizingly brief moments with Derek and walls. It’s a simple life and he rarely thinks of his former life. He feels bad for forgetting his Dad and Scott and what must be going through their heads. But everything is simple with the pack. Stiles doesn’t have to hide the booze and listen to his best friend wax poetic about the Argent’s princess. Stiles loves his father, he loves Scott and his wheezy lungs, he dearly loves Allison as well.
But it’s nice to not have to take everybody’s burden onto his own shoulders. Derek is the Alpha he takes care of them all. Stiles included. Sure Stiles feeds them and wraps them in gauze but they’re under Derek’s care and it’s nice for Stiles to take a step back at the end of the day and breathe.
“Knock, knock.” Erica mumbles in greeting as she hangs off the corner leading into Stiles’s room.
“Hey. What’s up?” Stiles asks as the young woman saunters in and drops onto the bed beside Stiles.
“Melissa McCall has moved in with your father and banned alcohol from the house. Scott and Allison are engaged. I thought you’d want to know. Derek doesn’t know that I strayed from my scouting path today, so let’s keep this between us.” Erica smiles gently as she runs a hand over Stiles head. His hair has grown since he arrived, the buzz cut a distant memory as the strands lengthen.
“Thank you…” Stiles can feel the tears in the corner of his eyes.
“You’re welcome.” And with that she’s gone and Stiles is left with a bittersweet weight in his chest.
Continues in Part Two