#i mean i still wanted vet!scott mind you but

[theheightofdishonor]

scott!! runs an animal shelter!! next to deaton's clinic!!

that's so fucking cute

[driftwithme]

LOVE LINE

[ EDITED BY @lemonhoneypastry !!! <3]

Fandom: Pacific Rim (2013 - movie only).

Relationships: Chuck Hansen/Raleigh Becket.

Tags: light angst, Mako Mori (mention), Herc Hansen (mention), Angela Hansen (mention), Scott Hansen (mention), Max (mention), not canon compliant, post-Pitfall, long distance friendship, not actually unrequited love, hurt, mental health issues (mention), war injuries (mention), longing, rivals to friends, friends to "strangers", unresolved romantic tension.

His phone rings again and Chuck does nothing but watch it, mesmerized. He doesn't know how he pressed the number or at what point of the last hour he felt asleep over his desk. All he knows is that he can almost bite his own heart with his teeth when the line picks up, the screen lightning up.

He curses under his breath, scrambling to sit up-- and winces. His back is sore.

"Chuck?"

"Is it a bad time to call you?"

Of all the people in the world he could have called half asleep, of all the ways he imagined his Monday morning to go...

"No," there's noise, a light click, before Raleigh replies: "not at all."

[ CHECK IT ON AO3 HERE ]

Chuck talks over him, the answer a bit rougher than intended.

"I said I'm good, Rah-leigh."

The line becomes silent.

His focus shifts to a single sweat drop sliding down his neck. The humidity of Sydney is starting to crack through the air-conditioner defenses; if he dared look out his window, he'd catch the sun emerging from over the newest skyscrapers. A world of pink and blue hues getting dissipated by the upcoming gold, clouds parting to allow the new day to begin. He doesn't look, though. He doesn't need a peak at the street below to know of the dammed heat wave in the middle of October. The news broadcasted about it endlessly as Chuck suffered every miserable day of the last week, sat in front of a fan until Max got sick.

"It's the heat", the vet told him, like he hadn't noticed the problem until he had handed the money to her.

Instead, he nodded. "Yeah, mate. Must be it."

The line stays silent, long enough for Chuck to check the screen. The call is still on, meaning Raleigh hasn't ended it, but...

I want to tell him.

Chuck ducks his head and spins on his chair. He eyes the room, picks up the device from the desk, changes the mode from speaker to private, and presses the plastic to the side of his head with one hand, the other absently drumming on the arm of the chair. He has half the mind to go to his bed and lie there, but won't he have to leave for work in an hour and a half? Isn't the bed made anyway? He doesn't even sleep on it most nights. It's hot. It's too hot. As Chuck stands up, he realizes that it's starting to get loud outside too, but on their call, it's all static. It bounces back and forth in his ears as Chuck's sweat rolls down into his sweater, cooling his shoulders, and moving down his spine-- He discards it on the floor.

He ends up in front of his mirror; barefoot, bed headed, an old PPDC shirt haphazardly thrown over his head with a pair of shorts that miraculously still fit him right.

He wants to tell him. He wants to tell him right now.

Chuck tries to catch Raleigh breathing through the telephone. Although it'd be easier if he only closed his eyes, he can't stop staring at the coward in his mirror. He frowns and imagines Raleigh laughing at it, at the wrinkles he'd get, at the comical expression of anger that Chuck hasn't felt in months. He hasn't been that man in a while, the one who burnt through his solitude each hour, Max at his heels and the world kept outside by locked doors. So he stops frowning. He cannot smile, either.

He runs his fingers through his hair, slightly longer now, and presses his fingertips to the sweat on his neck, on his collarbone, and his hand closes over his shirt in a fist over his chest. He grips the fabric, trembling with frustration--

You know I said I was alright, mate.

--because he cannot say a word.

Chuck watches as his eyes blink watery, the golden light peaking through his curtains unable to part the shadow of his tiredness. He didn't sleep last night, at most took at 20 minutes nap. He hasn't slept more than a couple of hours at a time in weeks, for all he remembers. The thought makes him stare at his legs and arms.

Chuck Hansen problem is that he came back whole from the bottom of the ocean, but it doesn't feel like it. It feels like he should have lost something, that he should have some proof of the hollow on his body. The unreleased energy hits his nerves through the dark hours until the daybreak comes and even when they subdue, enough for him to take a nap before awakening in an empty apartment, the feeling of absence never leaves him. 

And it was true, yeah? I'm good. Life's a fucking wonder.

Herc knows Max is sick and offered to travel to meet them. The memory of how their relationship used to be before Pitfall tempts him to accept the offer, but like him, Herc hasn't been that man in a while; the absent father, the general. His dad is truly busy now.

To be honest, the only reason Chuck got his own apartment was because he felt their house suffocating him. It was an old building, the vacation house. They used to go there every summer or December for family gatherings, to relax. It was his grandma's house before it was his mother's and now, technically, it was his. The truth is that he'd never ask his dad to give it up, not after losing all they've had with Scissure. He simply couldn't stay there any longer.

Chuck misses his mom like an amputation, the way he'd stumble on that house and lose his balance only to be reminded at every turn of how it used to be back then, when he used to be whole. Sometimes he would call her name by accident during his sleep. He'd see her shadow on the staircase, hear her voice from the main room. It's what that house would do to him. Bring back the ghost of Angela Hansen, years after Chuck swore to let her rest in peace.

Where his old man would find the missing pieces of his life, Chuck would only notice what wasn't there.

Herc wrestled Scott in that kitchen on Christmas, he kissed Angela for the first time on that porch. He married her in the backyard, taught Chuck to ride a bike on the back road. He turned on the news the day the Trespasser emerged from the Breach and sat on the edge of that couch, spilling half his beer on the carpet as he talked with Scott on the phone, his left arm kept around Angela as she calmed down Chuck. That house was a balm to his dad, but he was allowed to leave it all every few months to go and deal with the PPDC. Chuck wasn't.

So what if it is not what I thought it'd be? It's not like I haven't done more with worse.

At least now Herc works most of the time online, while the UN reorganizes their contracts. Looking back, those first three years after Operation Pitfall were hell. If it wasn't the extended residency on the medical bay, it was the endless trying to keep the program afloat. Compared to it, the ongoing year is all about patience: playing it slowly until the UN gives them permission to proceed with their new projects, keeping the Shatterdome running cheap until the new bill passes and they get their new funding, harassing their offices with letters and petitions, visiting any prospect from the private sector that could finance them, etc. Herc spends a month there, travels for weeks, spends another month or two at home, leaves again.

Chuck couldn't live in that house. A haunted house was a haunting house, even to its ghost. So he got an apartment. It was closer to Sydney, but not too close. It'd only take a taxi ride for his days to be filled with noise and bodies and the activity of a patched up city. He found a job repairing stuff all morning that assured him he'd be back at midday to feed Max and waste the rest of the day however he wanted. He met with his neighbors, made sure no one would bother him for being an ex-ranger. Got plants to decorate from Mako. Made a DVD collection from the ones he stole from the Shatterdome. Got the Kaidonovsky's radio on his kitchen. Even bought a couch in case someone wanted to stay the night while passing by. He did everything, confident that he needed to move out in order to move on. Except the salty breeze did nothing to soothe him.

Four years later, Chuck still jumps from his bed at the crack of dawn, convinced that he heard the Jaeger alarm and that he must get ready for a drop. He still stops breathing whenever a funny shaped cloud floats in the horizon, and when he watches it from the corner of his eye, it almost looks like one of the Kaijus he used to fight. He forgets to cook for himself, because there's no mess hall anymore. He gets on his PDDC shirts by accident when going out for groceries. He looks up, waiting to find Eureka, and sees nothing but new skyscrapers, sometimes the ceiling, sometimes the stars if he is out at night.

You sure get it. They got you modelling around in that uniform. You must know how it feels.

In the privacy of his room, Chuck catches with his thumb the single drop falling from his cheek. He thinks it's sweat and stares right at his reflection, eye to eye, and doesn't say a word.

What seemed an eternity ended in a couple of minutes of no talking. He hears rustling on the other side of the call and a sight that almost undoes him, almost makes him spill the reason why he called Raleigh of all people, but he doesn't.

Raleigh says: "Good to hear it, Chuck," and after a bit, "See you around."

And the call ends. Just like that, before Chuck could admit he missed the bloke so much, he sleep-called him to tell him so. Before he could talk to him, really talk to him, in a way he hasn't done in over half a year now.

Pitfall took them from hating each other to being friendly in the med bay; they spend almost every minute of their recovery together. Afterwards, they became friends, real friends, and Chuck had no chance because he was completely crushed by his love for that man since the beginning. He had been more or less aware, more or less angry, almost fascinated by the things Raleigh could make him feel, emotions hitting harder than the sound barrier whenever they were together. He never thought he'd get so close to Raleigh Becket, never thought it could evolve from mere comptent-- into to this new silence.

Not that I would know. I hardly hear from you anymore. I had to press your bloody number half asleep to hear your voice.

It started with Chuck moving out.

"I need some time away from the Shatterdome", he had said, and it was true. He wanted a life outside those walls. He wanted to be someone outside his job. Suddenly, he was nothing but the kid with the dead mom, the lucky veteran with all his limbs intact. He was a ghost haunting his country, pressed between the pages of history books like a withering flower or an autumn leaf. To those people --the woman living on the apartment next to him, the kid living down the hall, the elderly man who offered him some coffe every morning as he passed the entrance-- he was a relic. Most days, it helped being a son to his father, it helped being like a brother to Mako, but they weren't there, they couldn't be there, Chuck wouldn't ask them to be there either way.

And his dog was sick.

And the man he had loved since he was a fuck, he had had a crush on Raleigh a 14 years old, had hated his guts at 16, shout his and Mako's names hoarse after Pitfall when he couldn't find their escape-pods, he had fallen asleep on his chest by accident and woke up swearing he would never feel like that again, not in Earth or if hell existed or in any afterlife. His friend is on the other side of the ocean parading himself around to help the jaeger cause. Taking pictures with jaeger replicas, presenting awards, smiling on night shows like he is 18 years old again, like his brother is alive, like he is a doll or a clown or a pretty face to admire and it all aches so much and Chuck hates it all so much and he already broke one tv upon seeing them ask about Chuck Hansen just for Raleigh to shut it down so fast Chuck got nauseous.

He wants that loyalty pressed to his lips, there, real real real, Raleigh's laugh drumming in his chest and not on the speakers.

Chuck doesn't know if he's sick because he's lonely or if he's lonely because he's in love and he cannot, for the life of him, let out the words that would solve his misery.

"I miss you," he says to the stalled air of his room.

The light now hits full on his face, breeze slightly blowing the curtains. He turns away from his reflection, puts down the phone on his bed, ignoring the empty side of the mattress he wishes, every night, could support another body that's not his, and walks to the bathroom.

He decides he'll try again in the evening, after visiting Max. Or maybe he'd call in the hopes Raleigh would get it. Stupidly, blindly, he does what he's been doing all those years and waits for Raleigh to fall back, to fall first, to say it.

Do you miss me?

Yes, he'd call-- and if he doesn't say it, at least he gets to hear his voice.

[the-real-tc]

Bad Business Ch. 3 Or Worse

Author's Note: Much to my chagrin, I noticed I forgot to upload this chapter the first time around. Things are about to get bumpy, and I'm sure theories will start flying around, which is all well and good. There are going to be some disturbing events and imagery here and in upcoming chapters, so I'll repeat the "triggering" warning and the "abusive comments will not be tolerated" piece again. Thanks to all the extremely encouraging comments and reviews so far. I'm pleased you're all following along.

To the childless wife he gives a home, and gladdens her heart with children.

- Ps. 113

Chapter 3:

Or Worse

Hudson Times—Online Version

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Hudson Area Residents On Alert Due to Bear Sightings

Nadir Jutley

Fish and Wildlife officials are responding to reports of a bear in Hudson county. An alert was issued after several ranchers caught sight of the animal over the past week. April is typically when bears emerge from hibernation. Residents of Hudson county are being asked to be extra vigilant, especially around dusk and dawn, when bears are most likely to be active.

If you see the bear, contact Fish and Wildlife at 555-625-1540 immediately. Do not approach, and do not provoke the animal.

• Email: nadir_jutley

"Hey, Ty," Amy called softly, "did you see this report about a bear in the area?"

Ty looked up from his reports. "Yeah," he replied. "Scott and I got the alert at the clinic yesterday afternoon."

"Good," Amy said, though she was still pouting, thinking about all the potential areas her country vet husband and his boss could encounter the beast while making their rounds to rural ranch lands. "Be careful out on those calls, okay? You and Scott go to some pretty remote places sometimes..."

Ty smiled in spite of himself. "Now who's being overprotective?"

"Ty," she said, eyeing him sternly, "I'm serious. I—I just don't want anything to happen to you, okay? After Mongolia..."

The last thing Ty wanted at that moment was to rehash falling nearly fatally ill on his first trip to Mongolia, and then being abducted and left for dead the second time—not to mention the near-fatal encounter with one of the poachers on his own home turf.

"Hey, Scott and I are always careful," he said, attempting to reassure her. "He's got his tranquilizer all the time, at the ready. The chances of us encountering that bear are pretty slim. It may even have moved on by now."

"Okay," Amy said, mouth still drawn downwards.

Now who's being overprotective? Ty's gentle rebuke echoed in her mind. She chided herself mentally, knowing her worries were probably unfounded. After all, Ty had not said a word when she departed on Sunday with Georgie to participate in the faux fox hunt event. She had enjoyed every minute of the ride, though she did choose not to vault any of the jumps on the course this time around. If I'm going to ride, I don't have to take unnecessary risks, she reasoned. It would be one line of defense she figured she could bring up if Ty ever did say something negative about her decision to ride during her pregnancy.

Five Days Later...

"Val Stanton is missing," Jack announced as he shut the door behind him.

Lisa looked up from her laptop, her brow instantly creasing. "'Missing'? What do you mean missing?"

"The police are out at Briar Ridge now. I saw them there when I was driving back from my supply run. Something in my gut told me there was something really wrong with that picture, so I stopped in to see what was going on. I got to speak with Jesse, and he says Val went out for a ride late this morning and didn't come back when he expected her to. She was supposed to meet some clients with him at 1:00 p.m., and she never showed. It's of course way past that time now."

"Did you say she went out for a ride late this morning? I had Herring trailered over there yesterday so she could try him out," Lisa said, genuine worry replacing her initial curiosity. "I hope she wasn't thrown and is lying injured somewhere—or worse."

"Right now, no one knows, but Jesse did mention she took Herring," Jack said. "Val unfortunately didn't go out with her cell phone, so they can't track her that way. Chief Parker is going to have his officers combing the areas Jesse said she was known to go when she went for a ride."

"Do they need any help? I mean, we could always saddle up and check where her property meets up with Heartland," Lisa suggested, pre-emptively shutting down her laptop. "She can't have gone too far."

"We could take a look," Jack agreed thoughtfully. "But I hate to say it: I have a bad feeling about this, especially with all those bear sightings lately."

Lisa shook her head once as she stood to face him. "Let's not go down that road yet," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "We should ride out and hope for the best. I'll head out to the jumping pen to let Georgie know where we're going."

"I'll tell Amy and Ty when I get the horses saddled."

Upon hearing that Val was missing, Georgie immediately halted her jumping practice and dismounted from Phoenix. She followed Lisa to the stables and asked to come along for the search, but Jack firmly nixed her request.

"No, you stay put," Jack said in a voice that left no room for discussion. "We don't know why she's missing. This could be a very serious situation, and someone needs to stay in the house with Katie right now."

For a moment Georgie felt a surge of indignation, like she was once again the immature child who was always left out of the action. This time, though, she came to the realisation all on her own what Jack was not verbalizing: He suspected Val could very well be hurt or even dead, and did not want Georgie to be on hand to see those suspicions confirmed.

"You're taking your rifle?" Lisa asked, eyeing the weapon uneasily as Jack climbed up into Buddy's saddle.

With a nod, Jack said gruffly: "We don't know what's out there, Lis. It's just a precaution."

"Right. Of course," Lisa said, and nudged Venus to head out, simultaneously double-checking to make sure she had her cell phone in her jacket pocket.

Daylight hours faded to the point Jack and Lisa knew it was time to return. Searching in darkness would be futile. Reluctantly, they turned the horses back toward the ranch house, having trekked along the property line separating Heartland from Briar Ridge. During that time they spotted nothing resembling either Val or Herring.

"Did you find anything?" Georgie asked anxiously when they eventually made it into the kitchen after seeing to Buddy and Venus' post-ride needs.

"Nothing," Jack said wearily.

"It's definitely a concerning situation," Lisa added. "Herring is a—a very well-behaved, steady horse. And Val is an experienced rider. But I can't help thinking that she could be lying out there somewhere with a broken leg or—"

"If that's the case, someone will find her," Jack interrupted, hoping to swing her thoughts back to a positive mode.

"I hope so."

Despite all their differences over the years, Lisa shuddered interiorly at the notion something horrible could have happened to Val.

"Hey, isn't Herring micro-chipped?" Georgie asked.

"He is," Lisa said, turning to look at the teen. "And I think I know where you're going with this, but those chips aren't designed to be tracked by GPS."

"Oh, right," Georgie said with a defeated pout. "I guess I thought it could be an easy way to locate him."

Lisa pursed her lips, then said: "It was a good thought. It's just too bad that's not how it works. If it were, we would have tracked Herring hours ago—the moment we knew he and Val were missing."

Georgie sighed. "Okay. Too bad. I really hope she's okay, and Herring, of course."

"Me, too."

MISSING PERSONS REPORT

Tuesday, April 16

Hudson Police are seeking public assistance in locating a missing local woman.

Valerie Jane Stanton, 59, was last seen on the morning of Tuesday, April 16 departing her residence of Briar Ridge on horseback and did not return at the scheduled time.

She is described as 5'5", approximately 130 lbs., with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing English-style riding attire and a riding helmet, as pictured.

The horse she was riding is chestnut in colour with one white sock on his right front foreleg.

Stanton's family believes she could be in medical distress due to an undisclosed health issue.

Anyone with information about Stanton's whereabouts are asked to contact Hudson Police immediately at 403-555-7799.

Photo courtesy Stanton family

The sun was just cresting the horizon when Lisa pulled into Fairfield the next morning. She was pleased to see some of her staff already seeing after the never-ending list of duties assigned to them. The smart maroon jerseys with the Fairfield logo that distinguished her staff from visitors or clients brought a smile to her face. It was something her father would never have done, but once Fairfield had started to become more well-known past local circles, adding this touch of professionalism had seemed to be the right move.

Ten minutes later, she had mounted up on Cinders and was cantering out towards her usual morning destination: Lookout Point. The familiar sights and sounds brought a welcome comfort to her troubled mind. Neither she nor Jack had enjoyed a restful night. Thoughts of the missing Val Stanton and the horse she was riding had proven to be a burdensome distraction. With no news on Val's whereabouts this morning, their worry had not abated. Lisa figured with daylight hours now upon them, the police would probably be resuming their search.

Where could Val possibly be? Lisa fretted for the hundredth time. Again, she pushed back the unsettling thought that Val could have fallen from Herring. Who goes off riding without a cell phone these days in case something like this happens?

The still snow-capped Rocky Mountains glowed in the bright, early sunshine. Lisa reined in Cinders and simply sat for a few moments, taking in the awe-inspiring view. No matter how often she took this ride and gazed out at these mountains, they were different, beautiful and new every time. She was about to urge Cinders forward again when a flicker of movement caught the corner of her right eye.

A wild whinny of terror reached Lisa's ears, followed by the fierce pounding of hooves. Cinders reacted by giving a whinny of his own while shaking his head, sensing danger.

Lisa's gaze now fell on a chestnut horse that circled them in confusion and fright. A few ugly, bloody gashes stood out in stark relief on the left hindquarter, flank, and thigh. The saddle and pad were missing.

"Herring!" Lisa cried in recognition. She quickly dismounted. If this was Herring, her missing horse, then where was its rider, Val?

"Herring," Lisa called softly, dread billowing up inside her. The chestnut horse shook his head furiously when Lisa approached. He snorted once then bolted away from her.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Lisa tried to lower her voice, slowing her steps so as not to frighten the horse further. She realised he must be suffering a great deal from his injuries, the cause of which Lisa could not yet determine, but she had a strong suspicion a bear's paws had inflicted the damage. She took a few furtive glances around, but saw no sign of anything of a predatory nature. Besides, the wounds looked as if they had been bleeding for some time.

Where is Val? Lisa wondered again in a panic. If Herring is hurt, Val could be, too...

Lisa cast her eyes down to the grassy ground in search of anything resembling a human form. Her eyes soon fell upon mangled black leather. That must be Val's dressage saddle, Lisa thought, recognizing the shape of the riding gear. It obviously got snagged on something or pulled off. That's why it's lying here. Not far away, Lisa spied a torn saddle pad soiled with dirt and blood. Oh, no. Val could be lying here anywhere. She took a few careful paces forward, keeping close watch on Herring at the same time. The last thing she wanted was for him to be so spooked he took off for a wooded area, or worse, towards the road where he might be hit by some careless driver.

"Val?!" Lisa chanced a shout. "Can you hear me?"

She kept pacing around slowly, keeping her eyes peeled. After about five minutes, Lisa thought she spotted something unusual. About ten paces away, she identified what appeared to be a human-shaped lump, partially obscured in the ankle-high wild grass. Lisa's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

"Val?" she called with growing trepidation. She crept closer, then stopped at five paces, having now, even from this distance, seen enough to know getting any nearer would be a bad idea. She pulled out her cell phone and immediately put in a call to the Hudson police department. Val Stanton had indeed fallen from Herring as Lisa had feared, and from what she could see, the other woman would never be getting up again.

At 9:00 a.m. that same morning, Ty's phone buzzed just as he was finishing a quiet breakfast with Amy. "It's Scott," he said, looking at the screen.

"Go ahead," Amy said with a nod, figuring it could be something urgent.

"Hi, Scott," Ty spoke, rising from the table and moving to the living room area of the loft. "Lookout Point? Yeah, I can be there in about twenty minutes... Okay, 'bye."

"Work emergency?" Amy asked with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," Ty said with a frown. "It's weird, though. Scott said the police called him out to Lookout Point. Something about a horse and a crime scene."

"A horse and a crime scene?" Amy gasped, remembering Jack and Lisa's fruitless search the evening before. "Val Stanton and Herring... You don't think this has anything to do with them, do you?"

"Scott didn't say, but I hope not," Ty said, moving quickly to stow his breakfast dishes in the washer. He planted a kiss on his wife's cheek before hurrying into the bathroom to finish cleaning up for his departure.

"See you later," Amy said, catching him for a parting kiss when he emerged. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Ty responded, kissing her again. "Give Lyndy a kiss for me, too, okay?"

"Of course. Now go on; don't be late."

By the time Ty reached Lookout Point, he saw a coroner's van pulling onto the road back towards town. He quickly spotted several police vehicles along with Scott's truck. Two constables stood beside their SUVs, ostensibly there to direct traffic or to encourage nosy onlookers to keep driving past. Ty, unsure of what he should do, pulled to a stop behind Scott's truck. One constable approached and Ty lowered his window expectantly.

"This area has been declared a crime scene; you'll need to continue on," said the young constable, whose nametag identified him as 'Becket'.

"I've been called out here," Ty said. "I'm Dr. Borden. I'm a veterinarian and I work with Dr. Scott Cardinal."

"I.D., please?" Becket asked.

Ty provided his license.

"Okay, stay right here," Becket said after handing back the card. He keyed his radio. "Chief, Dr. Borden has arrived. You're expecting him?"

Chief Parker's deep voice came over the radio, confirming Ty had indeed been summoned and should be permitted to enter the area.

"Follow me," Becket said nodding to Ty. "I'll take you to the spot."

"Thanks," Ty said, growing more uneasy with the entire situation. He stepped out of the truck's cab, vet kit in hand. He followed close on Becket's heels across the uneven grassy terrain, over the rise in the landscape, and down towards a perimeter cordoned off with large orange barriers and yellow crime scene tape.

Within that perimeter Ty could make out a small cluster of uniformed personnel and numbered yellow tags on the turf. He then spotted not one, but two horses outside the perimeter. To his utter surprise, he now saw Lisa was holding the rein of one of those horses.

That's Cinders, he thought, recognizing the dapple grey horse from the time Lisa and Jack had reconciled during an ill-fated trip to Montana. The other horse was being kept away from everyone by Scott for some reason. Now as he neared, Ty could see the horse being minded by Scott was indeed injured.

Ty caught Lisa's eye as he made his way past the perimeter towards his mentor. In that brief exchange, he read in her expression shock and horror. She was speaking with Chief Parker, but he could not make out their conversation. With the presence of the coroner's van he had seen only moments earlier, a new sense of foreboding gripped Ty. He wondered what Lisa was even doing at Lookout Point amidst all these police officers, but then remembered her habit of riding out to this location on most mornings—a habit she had retained even after moving in at Heartland.

"Hey, Ty, thanks for coming," Scott said. The horse he was minding let out a loud snort and kicked at the turf as soon as it spotted Ty.

"Easy, easy," Scott said soothingly.

"Whoa, what's going on with this guy?" Ty asked.

"This is Herring," Scott said of the chestnut horse. "And it looks like he's been attacked by a bear. Lisa thinks he's been out here all last night."

"All last night?" Ty repeated, instantly registering the horse's name and why it sounded familiar. "Scott, Val Stanton was supposed to be riding Herring yesterday. The coroner's van I just saw..."

Bleakly, Scott answered Ty's implied question. "Val's dead, Ty. Lisa found her body."

Ty closed his eyes and exhaled his shock. "Aw, man. That's terrible. Was she thrown, or something?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. Chief Parker and his team were already here when I arrived. I didn't get a look at the body. My immediate concern was for Herring. Lisa said he was spooked by Cinders and absolutely would not calm down. Wouldn't even let her approach with Cinders so close. That's why they called me. I've just administered a sedative. It's a small miracle he let me get near enough even for that, because everyone was ready to go with a tranquilizer gun. Anyway, I called you because Herring is Lisa's. She asked for you."

Despite the sedative Scott administered, Ty noted the horse was still skittish. Its eyes roved in an agitated fashion, and it was wary of any movement. This was demonstrated right at that moment when Chief Parker ambled over to the veterinarians. Herring gave a wild cry and stamped a hoof.

"Whoa," Scott said in a gentle tone. The horse managed to settle enough for Parker not to feel threatened.

"Thanks for coming, Ty," the senior officer said. Turning to Scott, he added, "Dr. Cardinal, one of my guys is going to come and take those photos of the wounds on Herring now like we talked about earlier, just in case we need anything for evidence later. Do you think he can keep still enough for that?"

"The sedative should really be taking effect now, but no sudden moves," Scott warned.

"We'll do our best," Parker said, waving over a member of his forensic crime scene team. The young man clutched a large kit stuffed with photography equipment, listened to Parker's instructions about what he needed, and carried on with his task.

"I think the best thing would be to get him trailered to Heartland since it's so nearby," Ty said, while the photographs were being snapped. "And he does belong to Lisa, after all."

"Fine," Parker said with a brisk nod. "Let my guy finish up here, then I'll sign off on that transport."

Ty looked over once more at Lisa, concerned for her state of mind after finding Val. Her body language said it all as she stood rigidly in place, tightly gripping Cinders' rein with her left hand, her riding helmet pressed snugly against her side in the crook of her right arm.

Parker was speaking to her again now, and Ty saw her nod her head a couple times. He rightly assumed it was about the arrangement to bring Herring to Heartland. Ty wondered why she had not yet approached them, but remembered the injured horse's current mental state. Whatever happened out here, this poor horse has been severely traumatized, Ty realised. Everything is spooking him right now.

"I'm finished here," the forensics photographer finally said, and backed away calmly and carefully from the injured animal.

"Thanks," Scott said. Then, turning to Ty, added, "Let's get these wounds cleaned up now. I'm worried about how long they've been left exposed like this. I don't want infection to set in."

"Right," Ty said in agreement. He cast one last glance back at Lisa. She waved a gloved hand before placing her helmet back on her head in preparation to ride Cinders back to Fairfield. He waved back, then set to work with Scott to clean and bandage the wounds on the afflicted horse.

"The police are here with the trailer," Jack announced as he peered out the kitchen window.

Lisa set down her mug of tea. "Thanks," she murmured, still dressed in her riding attire. She had immediately driven back from Fairfield after depositing Cinders and had arrived at Heartland only minutes earlier.

Jack watched things unfold from the porch. Lisa, Ty, and Amy gathered at the trailer and they spoke with a pair of constables. He watched Lisa sign some sort of official paperwork.

With that piece of business taken care of, Ty and Amy began the task of offloading Herring. Lisa said something to them Jack could not determine, but seemed to him to be words of encouragement. The constables departed, their job having been completed.

"Scott administered a sedative on site," Ty said to Amy, as he slowly guided the animal towards the stables. "Herring was really agitated from the pain and the trauma of the attack, we think."

"Poor guy," Amy said.

"It's a miracle he was able to get close enough for that," Ty repeated what his mentor said at Lookout Point. "Scott mentioned they were almost ready to use the tranquilizer. We cleaned up the wounds as best we could out there, but we still need to watch for signs of infection."

Amy nodded in understanding.

"What comes next, now that he's here?" Lisa asked.

"I can deal with the physical side; we're all hoping you can cope with his behavior, Amy," Ty answered as they entered the barn. "He's terrified of everything right now. You'll see once the sedation wears off."

"No wonder," Amy said, noting the bandages Ty and Scott had applied to the left flank, hindquarter, and thigh. "After what he's been through, he's going to need a lot of help."

"I'm game if you are, babe," Ty said with a smile.

"I most certainly am, Dr. Borden," Amy replied, stretching up to kiss him.

Lisa smiled at the sight. "I'll let you two get to it," she said, sending them a wink as she parted company, confident her horse was in the right hands.

Despite knowing Herring would most likely make a full recovery under Ty and Amy's expert care, Lisa's face was grim when she was once again inside the kitchen.

"How bad is it?" Jack ventured to ask, immediately noticing her gloomy expression.

Lisa sat down at the table before giving an answer. She took a sip from her mug, but the tea had grown tepid in her absence and failed to help ward off a chill she was suddenly experiencing.

"The bear got some pretty good swipes in," Lisa finally responded, a slight tremor passing through her frame at the memory of seeing the extent of Herring's injuries. "Some of those claw marks are pretty deep. But that's not the only concern. He's been really traumatised psychologically by the attack. Right now he is sedated; Amy is hoping to work with him later."

Jack observed her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," she said, looking up at his face and reading there a combination of love and worry. "I'm much more upset about Val. When I saw her lying there, facedown, I just knew. It was awful, Jack."

"I'm so sorry you had to find her like that, Lis," Jack said, gently placing his hand over hers.

"I can't imagine what could have happened. From what I was able to see, her jacket... her jacket was bloodstained. Do you think the bear—"

"I really don't know," Jack interjected quickly, wanting to divert his wife's line of thinking. "No use dwelling on it until the police finish their investigation."

"You knew her longer than I did," Lisa stated carefully. "You were the friend she leaned on when she was going through her cancer battles."

"Right," Jack said slowly with a nod of agreement.

"She had feelings for you, Jack," Lisa added. "You know she did; I won't pretend I didn't notice. Years back she let me know in no uncertain terms she was keeping you in her life, despite knowing we were a serious item."

"Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?" asked Jack, surprised the conversation had swayed in this direction.

Lisa exhaled. "I don't really know. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around everything, I guess. What I'm trying to say is, despite Val not being my favourite person on the planet, I certainly never wanted her dead, and certainly not like that."

"Come here," Jack said, opening his arms. Lisa got up from her seat and slid onto Jack's lap. He encircled her in a tight embrace, nuzzling the side of her head. The earlier chill that had descended upon her melted away with the warmth of his body so close to hers.

"Mmm..." murmured Lisa. "Thank you. I needed this hug."

"You're welcome," Jack whispered.

Hudson Times—Print Version

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Briar Ridge Owner Found Dead

Nadir Jutley

Prominent Hudson businesswoman Valerie Stanton was found dead early Tuesday morning. Stanton had earlier been reported missing by her son, Jesse Stanton. He told this reporter he advised authorities his mother had been out horseback riding on Monday and had not returned by the appointed time. He immediately reported this absence, as he was particularly concerned for her well-being due to an undisclosed health issue.

This reporter learned local veterinarians, Drs. Cardinal and Borden were called to Lookout Point and an injured horse was removed from the scene for treatment.

Chief of Hudson Police James Parker has issued the following statement:

"At approximately 7:15 a.m. on Tuesday morning, the body of Ms. Valerie Stanton of Briar Ridge Stables was discovered by a Hudson resident out on a horseback ride up at Lookout Point. Ms. Stanton had evidently fallen from her mount. Our preliminary examination shows that any injuries suffered in that fall did not ultimately contribute to her death. At this time, we cannot comment on the precise cause of death except to say we believe Ms. Stanton did not die from natural causes.

"We would also like to issue another warning to the public about the bear that has been seen around Hudson. There is evidence the horse Ms. Stanton was riding came into close contact with that animal and suffered some injuries as a result."

Chief Parker said he would make more details public as they became available.

Briar Ridge staff and neighbours reacted with sadness and shock at the news.

Stanton was the owner of Briar Ridge Stables, a world-class showjumping training facility. She was predeceased by her husband, Alexander Stanton, in 2004; she is survived by two adult children, Jesse and Ashley.

• Email: nadir_jutley

"I still can't believe Val is dead," Georgie said, staring blankly. "We just saw her at the faux fox hunt last week."

"It's crazy," Lou uttered in agreement. "I don't get it. What on earth could have happened? And this part about 'Ms. Stanton did not die from natural causes'. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means whatever happened to her wasn't natural, and it wasn't an accident," Tim spoke up. He made a slashing motion across his neck.

"Dad!" Lou cried in dismay, staring at him in shock at his crude gesture.

"What? That's exactly what it means," he said in his defense. "Someone or some thing killed Val. But I'll wager this is a case of foul play."

Lou glared at her father. "You didn't have to be so—so graphic about it."

Tim was about to give some smart retort, but was stalled when Georgie spoke up.

"I rode for her... And I did a school project on Briar Ridge," murmured the teen, voice toneless. "I learned so much from her, even if I didn't agree with her business model. She wasn't the easiest person to deal with, you know? She could be so demanding and so mean sometimes, but I-I don't know how anyone could want to hurt her."

"Hey, come here," Lou said softly, beckoning her daughter for a hug, which the girl quickly accepted. "Don't worry yourself about it, honey."

"Make no mistake: someone did her in. And all I have to say is the cops better catch the person responsible," Tim remarked. "Last thing we need is a killer on the loose in Hudson."

The man's phone buzzed.

"Speak," he said, upon accepting the call.

"They found the body."

"I know. It's being blasted in the local paper."

"Hmph. My client wasn't expecting her to be found for another few days."

"Not my problem."

"You're sure no one saw you out there?"

"I was long gone before the body was discovered. No one saw me. You can take that to the bank."

"Okay, fine. My client just wants to be sure."

"Tell your 'client' I did what I was paid to do. I don't control what happens afterwards. If he was so concerned about when or how someone eventually stumbled upon that woman's corpse, he should have added 'disposal' to the list of duties."

"You do that, too?"

"If my price is met."

"Good to know. I'll keep that in mind."

Hudson Times — Print Version

Thursday, April 18

Cause of Death Released

Nadir Jutley

At a press conference yesterday, Hudson Police Chief James Parker announced a stunning development in the death of prominent Hudsonite Valerie Stanton.

"The coroner has determined that Ms. Stanton's death was the result of a single gunshot wound," Parker revealed. "We have no suspects at this time, but we are asking for the public's help in this matter. Sometime on the morning of the 15th, Ms. Stanton was out on horseback at Lookout Point near Highway 23. We are asking for any hunters, hikers, or motorists in the vicinity at the time to please come forward with any information."

When asked by this reporter, Chief Parker admitted they are treating the death as "suspicious", but ultimately stated the shooting could be accidental in nature.

"The fact that we've had several bear sightings and the fact the horse Ms. Stanton was riding was attacked by a bear is reason enough to believe someone might have been aiming for one of those predators. The possibility certainly exists Ms. Stanton could have been struck by a stray bullet. This is why it is crucial we speak to anyone who might have been out hunting in the area on Monday, the 15th."

Alberta Fish and Wildlife had previously issued a warning about a bear in Hudson county, and they repeated that warning today. If spotted, residents are asked to call 555-625-1540. Do not approach the animal in any circumstance.

Valerie Stanton was the owner and operator of the renowned Briar Ridge Stables. She was also a member of the Hudson Chamber of Commerce, and was the recipient of the Hudson Businesswoman of the Year award in 2006. She is survived by her two adult children, Jesse and Ashley.

The funeral for Stanton will be held on Tuesday, April 23 at the Hudson Funeral Home at 1:00 p.m.; a private burial will take place at the Highwood Cemetery.

• Email: nadir_jutley

The atmosphere around the dinner table felt quieter and more sombre than usual that Good Friday evening with just Jack, Lisa, and Georgie sharing a meal. Katie was off to spend the Easter long weekend and an extended spring break in Vancouver with Peter. Lou had departed for New York to deal with her Maggie's franchise business, and would be gone for the next month or so. Surprisingly, Tim was spending a rare evening at Big River for his evening meal. Lisa had extended an invitation to Ty and Amy to come by; the couple had declined.

Jack was feeling the weight of the uncommon silence. He reflected on how much a lively dinner hour had become the norm over the past several years.

It was such a contrast to the time immediately following Lyndy's death when dinners tended to be low-key affairs. Back then, it would be a setting for four: Marion, himself, Lou and Amy. Even then, sometimes he would be eating alone if he had been out dealing with the herd. At other times, he would be eating with just Amy and Lou if their mother was looking after a particularly difficult client horse. Then Scott entered the picture for a few years when Marion sponsored him. Soon after, both the former juvenile delinquent and Lou left Heartland to spread their wings and pursue higher education and careers, bringing the number of those at the dining table down to a paltry three.

Jack's thoughts drifted to Amy and Ty's newest patient. From what Lisa reported upon Herring's return from his fateful ride with Val up to Lookout Point, Jack knew the horse suffered some trauma due to the bear's attack, not unlike what Bear the horse had suffered a few years in the past. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of Val's body lying on the ground next to Herring as the ravenous predator approached. He swiped a hand across his face, hoping to blot out the images his troubled imagination conjured.

"You all right?" asked Lisa, upon seeing this action.

"Fine," he replied, suddenly self-conscious.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Jack," Georgie added. "You seemed really out of it for a few minutes."

"I am fine, both of you," Jack insisted, trying to ignore Georgie's unsolicited observation. "Not particularly happy, mind you. After all, I've just lost a friend and neighbour, and nobody seems to know what the heck happened to her, but I'm fine."

"Okay, honey," Lisa said placatingly.

Figuring now was as good a time as any to bring up the subject, Jack said, "I don't mean to sound like a worry-wort, but it would give me a great deal of peace of mind if you skipped your usual morning rides out to Lookout Point for the next little while, Lis."

"Oh, I have no intention of going out there anytime soon, believe me," Lisa said with a shudder. "Not after..."

She let her words die on her lips. No, after finding Val's body, Lookout Point would be crossed off her list of riding destinations for the foreseeable future.

"Good," Jack grunted in relief and approval.

They all turned their attention back to the food on their plates, any further conversation having dried up completely. Mention of Lookout Point and the knowledge of what happened to Val ensured no one would be in the mood to say much of anything else.

Easter Monday

"How's Herring doing this morning?" Lisa asked Amy as she walked inside the barn.

"Physically, better. Mentally, not so much," Amy replied with a slight frown. "He still won't go near any of the other horses when I try to turn him out in the paddock. I'm afraid he thinks any large animal is a threat. But like I said, his physical wounds are healing well, thanks to Ty. No signs of infection."

"Okay, good," Lisa said.

"I'm actually thinking of trying a little canine therapy with him."

"Oh?" said Lisa, looking at Amy with interest at this comment.

"Yes," Amy said. "Remi was a great help with that mare-foal pairing we had a few weeks ago. She had a calming effect on the mare. The less we humans interfered, the more Sassy was willing to let the foal approach. The same thing might work for Herring. Remi's a smaller animal than a horse or even a person, so he might not spook so easily in her presence."

"Makes sense," Lisa said with a smile of admiration at Amy's astute observations. "You just keep doing what you do, Amy. I know everything will turn out just fine."

"Thanks, Lisa," Amy said. "You've always had faith in me, right from the start. I don't think I've told you how much that means to me."

"Well, you deserve it, 'Miracle Girl'," Lisa said affectionately. "Okay, I'll let you get back to it. See you later; I'm off to Fairfield."

*** Chapter 4: Let the Dead Bury Their Own Dead

[alphadaddyderek]

Dude, just get out! (we both live here dumbass!) (sterek fic, smut, college au)

Stiles was initially excited to go to college. The freedom aspect of it in particular is what Stiles was the most excited about. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his dad, of course, he does. He didn’t mind living with him, he liked seeing him on a daily basis. He’s all Stiles has. Well, Stiles has Scott, but Scott is attending university in Arizona of all places. Meanwhile, Stiles is going to NYU, so, there’s not a lot of opportunities to see Scott or his father in person.

Not to fret though! Stiles was ready like Freddy to meet new people and, hopefully, make new friends along the way. That’s what college is all about. Supposedly, Stiles wouldn’t know but if all the movies are to be believed then that’s what college is all about.

He and his dad spent days driving up to NYU and then spent hours moving Stiles’ belongings into his off-campus apartment and unpacking. Stiles got a full-ride —thank god— so there’s extra money for him to be able to live in an actual, nice apartment instead of the dorms. His roommate was nowhere to be seen at the time, but that was fine with Stiles. He’d have plenty of opportunities to get to know him. Stiles’ dad left to stay in a hotel for the night because there was no way he was starting the trek back to Beacon Hills this late in the day. So, Stiles was left to his own devices in his new apartment.

Well, he was for about twenty minutes, then his roommate came back and...he’s kind of a dick.

He has a resting bitch face and he hardly likes to talk. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because the guy doesn’t like him or if he’s just the quiet type. He’s starting to think that the guy doesn’t like him because every time Stiles starts talking he looks annoyed. The dick’s name is Derek and coincidentally, he also goes to NYU. He did tell Stiles his major, but wouldn’t tell Stiles what his favorite color was, which is just plain rude.

Anyway, Stiles isn’t going to let this Debbie downer ruin his college experience, no way!

Stiles decides the best thing to do is to just ignore him. Which is hard to do because the guy takes up so much space, like, he’s actually huge. And he always seems to be in the apartment when Stiles comes back from classes. Which is weird because, dude, don’t you have classes to go to? Nonetheless, he’s always there which means Stiles has to see him all the time and Derek can continue being an asswipe for no reason.

For example, Stiles sometimes forgets to wash the dishes —sue him!— and Derek will chew him out for it. Stiles didn’t know Derek was such a neat freak, but now that he knows he’ll leave more things laying around because Stiles can also be a dick when he wants to be. Maybe Derek should learn to be more personable, then Stiles wouldn’t have to go out of his character by doing such petty things. They’ve only been living together for about a week and a half and there’s already a turf battle going on. Stiles isn’t sure who’s going to win this battle, however, the sight of Derek tripping over one of Stiles’ shoes and the subsequent curse that flies out of his mouth makes Stiles not even care in the end.

--------------

After about a month, it's way more than just a battle. The turf battle has evolved into a war and now, no one is safe.

Derek continues being yucky and Stiles continues to do things to intentionally annoy him, except, now Derek is doing things to annoy Stiles. Like, eating all of Stiles’ Pop-Tarts or, and this is a cruel one, flushing the toilet while Stiles is in the shower. Unfortunately for Stiles, Derek buys gross ass healthy food for himself, and Stiles couldn’t choke down that food to save his life. So, what can one do to even the playing field?

Derek is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching some show about underwater caves. Stiles normally wouldn’t stick around because, despite what Derek might think, Stiles really doesn’t enjoy being talked down to by an abnormally grumpy man. This time though, Stiles sits down beside him. He can see Derek watching him from the corner of his eye, probably waiting to see what Stiles is going to do. Stiles likes to instill fear in Derek. Normally he acts like Stiles is nothing more than a bug he wants to squish under his overly expensive boot, but now? He’s worried. He should be. Stiles is going to pull out his ultimate weapon.

“So, whatcha watchin’?” Stiles asks, plastering a smile onto his face.

Derek gives him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?”

Stiles shrugs, smile still present. “I’m curious. This show seems interesting.”

Derek gives him an incredulous eyebrow raise, which is super insulting. Derek thinks all Stiles watches is Harry Potter, Star Wars, and superhero movies. Which is just wrong. But that’s okay. Stiles thinks all Derek watches are documentaries about how to be a functioning human in society, which, newsflash Derek, still needs working on.

A few minutes go by before Stiles decides to speak again. “So, you haven’t told me about your family.”

“That’s intentional.”

Stiles laughs. Derek thinks he can scare Stiles into leaving him alone. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles has zero self-preservation skills.

“Come on Derek. We’re roommates. Don’t you want us to get along?”

Derek didn’t dignify that with a response —rude!— so Stiles speaks again.

“My dad is the sheriff of my hometown. Been that way for as long as I can remember. My best friend, his name is Scott, wants to be a vet. He goes to The University of Arizona. After that he’s not sure where he’ll go to get his DVM but he’s open to anything.”

Derek turns the volume up on the tv and Stiles bites his lip to stifle his laughter.

Ah, Derek. That won’t help.

“At first I was kinda skeptical about Scott becoming a vet. I mean, he’s a puppy himself, and I love him to death, but sometimes he’s ditzy. He’s a ditzy brunette. But after working at Deaton’s, Deaton is the town vet, for years he’s proved me wrong,” Stiles risks a glance at Derek and he’s scowling so hard Stiles is kind of afraid it’ll get stuck that way forever. “He and his girlfriend, Allison, are kind of having issues with long-distance but they’re high school sweethearts so I’m confident that they’ll work through it. They’re so cute together that it’s actually kinda nauseating. Like, sometimes their sappiness makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder when they’ll get ma-”

Derek abruptly stands up and walks out the room, slamming and locking his bedroom door, as if Stiles is the boogeyman who he’s trying to keep out.

Stiles snickers and grabs the remote to change the channel. Derek gets annoyed when Stiles talks, well, he shouldn’t have started this war then (it doesn’t matter that technically Stiles started it). Stiles has weaponized his ability to talk people’s ears off. So, Derek better watch out.

Hopefully, Derek won’t murder Stiles in his sleep.

--------------

Okay, so, Stiles thinks maybe this whole turf war thing is getting out of hand.

It’s been a total of 3 and a half months since they’ve been living together and Derek and Stiles are on edge around each other 24/7. Stiles has to shower around eleven o’clock at night so that Derek won’t burn him alive by flushing the toilet. Derek doesn’t have access to Stiles’ snacks anymore because Stiles hid them in the back of his closet. Derek stays in his room all day just so that Stiles won't have any opportunities to talk to him. They’re at an impasse, but Stiles has a feeling that the worst has yet to come.

A really bad feeling.

Stiles comes back from a particularly grueling day of classes to see Derek sitting on the couch...and he’s smirking.

That doesn’t bode well for Stiles.

“Hello, Stiles.”

“Uh, hey dude. Why do you look like a supervillain?”

“‘Cause I have a surprise for you.”

Yeah, that definitely didn’t sound good.

“Actually, I am a-okay. I really don’t need the surprise. I appreciate it though,” Stiles tries to make his way towards his room but Derek keeps talking.

“I normally don’t snoop through people’s things, it’s really not in my character, but after you left to go out last night, I heard some weird noises coming from your room. I was trying to ignore it at first, but after a while I went to see what it was. I was going to mention it this morning but you woke up before I did and by the time I had woken up you were already in class.”

Stiles had stopped in his tracks but he still hasn’t turned around to face Derek, because if Derek is going where Stiles thinks he’s going, Stiles is going to need to be able to book it into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Derek didn’t seem too perturbed by Stiles’ silence since he continues with his story. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that it was your laptop making that noise. Now, I wasn’t surprised by the fact that porn was playing, but what I was surprised at-”

Oh god.

“-was that the video you were watching was titled ‘bear fucks twink with huge cock’. And now I can’t help but question your hatred towards me.”

Stiles’ face is burning. He’s never been so embarrassed in his life, which is really a great feat because Stiles doesn’t get embarrassed by much. It’s not that Stiles didn’t notice Derek was hot, like, come on now, Derek is gorgeous. He’s not that much taller than Stiles but the size of his biceps? They’re easily the size of Stiles’ thigh. Derek is bigger than Stiles in every aspect.

Well, he’s not sure about every aspect. Stiles has never seen Derek’s dick outright, but he’s seen him wear sweatpants, and ooh boy, that bulge gives Stiles the impression that Derek is hung like a horse.

Stiles still hates Derek because Derek still has his asshole-ish ways. Case in point: right the fuck now. But, you can hate someone and still want to fuck them, right? Hate sex exists.

Derek is patiently waiting for Stiles to respond, and Stiles has never been good at staying silent, so it’s only a matter of time.

Stiles finally turns around to face Derek and clears his throat. “That- that means nothing. People watch shit like that all the time. Plus, you hardly qualify as a bear.”

It’s a weak excuse but, hey, Stiles is grasping at straws here.

Derek tilts his head to the side in agreement. “True, but if that was the case, why do you seem so nervous?”

Stiles can’t think of a reasonable response in time and Derek knows it.

Derek smirks again and Stiles really wants to knee him in the dick.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. What the fuck is his endgame here? Why is he being such a dick?

Oh yeah, because Derek is a fucking asshole.

“Fine,” Stiles says through gritted teeth. “I find you attractive. I watch porn about big, hairy men fucking twinks because I want you to fuck me. Are you happy now? Jackass.”

Stiles storms into his room and slams the door. That’s a perfect example of why people can’t be pretty and nice. It’s genetically impossible.

Stiles lets out a sigh and dumps his backpack on his bed before stripping out of his clothes and getting into the shower. He stands under the spray for ten minutes, just praying to the cosmic gods out there that a black hole will appear and suck the whole human race into nothingness. After waiting for a few more minutes, and his prayers going unanswered, he washes himself then gets out to dry off. He wraps the towel around his waist and opens the door to find Derek standing outside his bathroom door. He shrieks (a very manly shriek by the way) and covers his chest with his arms, not that that’ll hide much.

“Derek, what the fuck are you doing?”

Derek’s eyes do the slowest sweep in fucking existence down Stiles’ body and Stiles feels his cheeks flush. Ugh, why are the cutest guys always assholes?

“I came to apologize. I was being a dick-”

“What else is new?” Stiles interrupts. Stiles is rewarded with another smirk.

“-and I took it too far. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

Stiles looks at Derek for a second. They’ve never apologized to each other when they did shit, and even though Stiles didn’t take it as far as Derek did, Stiles can’t stand here and act like he wasn’t also an asshole.

Stiles sighs. “I’m sorry too. I was also kind of a dick. Not as much as you, but still.”

Derek laughs a little, and Jesus H. Christ, how is a laugh sexy? “Apology accepted.”

Stiles holds his hand out for a handshake. Derek puts his hand in Stiles’ and they shake on their newfound not-friendship-but-also-maybe-not-complete-dicks-to-each-other-ship.

“So,” Derek starts after they drop their hands. “wanna have sex?”

Stiles might’ve actually choked on his own fucking spit, because what?

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted to have sex.”

“Where is this even coming from? You hate my guts. Every time I talk you look like you’re going in for a root canal.”

Stiles is so confused, he’s also getting hornier by the minute, but right now, the confusion is outweighing the horniness.

“I don’t hate you. Yeah you talk a lot, and it was so annoying at first, sometimes it still is, but I got used to your incessant chatter.”

Stiles knows he looks dumb, his mouth is gaping and everything. “I think maybe there was something in the water because I must be high. We’ve lived together for over 3 months and you’re telling me that you actually want to have sex with me?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah. Just because you can be kinda annoying that doesn’t mean you’re not cute. Plus, people have sex all the time, that doesn’t mean we have to, like, date or whatever.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek’s so romantic, how has Stiles been able to resist jumping his bones for this long?

“You just embarrassed the hell out of me, why would I ever want to have sex with you?” Never mind the fact that Stiles definitely does want to have sex with him.

“Maybe you don’t. If not, then fine. We can just go back to how things were. If you do, then we’ll have a great time.”

Stiles is still struggling to wrap his mind around all of this. Derek wants to have sex with him? In what universe does that make sense?

Apparently in this one.

Stiles does this sort of shrug that basically portrays well, what the fuck? Okay then. “Okay. I guess this is happening then.”

Derek smirks for like the fiftieth time in thirty seconds and if Stiles was a stronger man he definitely would’ve kneed Derek in the dick, but clearly, Stiles is weak.

Very, very weak.

“My room or yours?” Derek asks.

“Mine. Since it’s right there,” Stiles points behind Derek and, lo and behold, there’s Stiles’ bed.

Grabbing Stiles’ hand in a surprisingly gentle gesture, Derek walks the three feet from the bathroom to the bed to lay Stiles down.

Derek gets on top of the bed and is sitting on his knees by Stiles’ feet. He pulls his shirt off like he’s in Magic Mike or something before throwing it onto the floor without a care in the world. Jesus, it’s like his muscles have muscles. Stiles starts feeling a little insecure about his body. He’s got muscles, but, he’s not, like, ripped like Derek is. Stiles likes to think he has somewhat of a swimmer’s body.

Looming over him like a fucking creeper, Derek stares down at Stiles. “You know, you’re very pretty.”

Stiles refuses to admit that he blushes at that because he’s not pretty. If anything he’s handsome, some may even say gorgeous.

“Can you just get on with it?” Stiles throwing a scowl in Derek’s direction.

“Bossy. I kinda like that,” he strips his sweatpants off and throws them down too. Now he’s only in a pair of gray boxer briefs and, god, Stiles wants to suck his dick so badly. Which is weird because he’s really not all that experienced with blowjobs, he’s given maybe two blowjobs in his life. Whatever, Derek has a great dick okay?

Derek tugs at the towel around Stiles’ waist. “Is this okay?”

Stiles nods and then the towel is gone, and Stiles is laid bare for Derek to gaze at his leisure. And boy does Derek gaze. He does another slow sweep down Stiles’ body, except this time it’s even more intense because now Stiles is naked.

“You’re not a virgin right?” Derek asks while rummaging through Stiles’ bedside drawer and pulling out the lube. First of all, it’s rude to go through people’s stuff! Second of all, how the hell did Derek know his lube was there? Although, where else would lube be?

“Nope. There will be no deflowering of the Stiles today. Sorry to disappoint.”

Derek shrugs before popping open the lube. “I’m not one of those weirdos who pops a boner at the thought of popping someone’s cherry.”

Stiles chuckles, like actually chuckles. Who knew Derek was even capable of being funny?

Stiles pulls his legs up and hooks his hands behind his knees. The position exposes Stiles’ hole to the extreme and it makes Stiles blush. Just because he’s not a virgin doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get nervous or embarrassed during sex.

Derek knee-walks closer to Stiles and squirts some lube onto his fingers. He puts one hand on Stiles’ right thigh while the other one gently and slowly breaches his entrance. Fuck, his fingers are thick. Thicker than Stiles’ that’s for sure. Stiles definitely isn’t shy about fingering. He fingers himself all the time, but it’s been a while since someone else’s fingers were up there. Stiles is nervous and excited about it all.

Derek doesn’t spend too much time with the one finger, quickly adding a second one and that’s when it starts feeling good. Derek’s fingers are about an inch away from his prostate and Stiles is about to curse him out until Derek presses both fingers against his prostate and Stiles has to bite his lip to stop the loud ass moan that almost escaped his mouth. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he knows he touched Stiles’ prostate, and being the asshole that he is, he has a cocky smile on his face.

After scissoring those two fingers inside Stiles for a few minutes, Derek adds a third finger. The stretch is definitely there, but hey, Stiles likes a little pain with sex. He can be kinky sometimes.

“Okay. I’m ready, come on,” Stiles says. He was starting to get impatient. He just wants to get dicked down already, damn.

Derek gently removes his fingers and gets off the bed to pick up his sweatpants. He reaches into the pocket and retrieves a condom out. Stiles’ mouth drops.

“So you just knew I’d have sex with you?”

“I didn’t know. I just hoped.”

That smarmy little bastard.

Derek gets back in bed and, finally, removes his briefs and...

Holy mother of god.

Well, maybe not the mother of god. That’s blasphemous as fuck. But! The sentiment is the same because wow. Stiles is glad he didn’t knee him in the dick because that dick is too gorgeous to cause serious injury to. He’s not like porn star big, but it is big and long too. And it’s uncut, which Stiles has a weird sort of kink about. He loves uncut cocks. Yeah, that’s a good-looking cock right there.

Derek unwraps the condom and rolls it onto his cock. He then grabs the bottle of lube that he placed on the bed and squirts more out before slathering a generous amount onto said cock. He makes Stiles move his hands before replacing them with one of his own, the other is at the base of his cock, lining it up to Stiles’ hole.

“You ready baby?” Derek asks.

“Call me baby again and I’ll dropkick you in the throa- oh fuck.”

Of course, Derek chose when Stiles was mid-threat to start pushing his cock inside. Geez, that is seriously a big cock, even the fingering didn’t make it burn any less. Derek gently pushes his cock in deeper before pulling it out, then he pushes it in a little deeper than he did at first before pulling it back out again. He repeats that until his cock is seated all the way inside, his balls to Stiles’ ass. Then he stops and waits. There’s sweat gathering above Derek’s eyebrow and some is even rolling down his temple. Needless to say, Derek isn’t as unaffected as he’s trying to be. Which makes Stiles feel kind of great actually.

“Okay, you can move now,” Stiles informs Derek. And when Stiles says Derek goes to town, he really means that.

Derek puts his other hand behind Stiles’ left knee and pulls out all the way, not even the tip is inside, before thrusting back in. Hard.

Stiles’ breath gets forced out of him at the movement. This truly is hate sex, kinda. Derek said he didn’t hate Stiles, but he certainly doesn’t like him all that much. At least, not yet. Who knows what will stem from this. That’s something to think about when Derek isn’t pounding him into the mattress.

Derek delivers a thrust that nails Stiles’ prostate dead on and Stiles makes this super embarrassing sound, like a high-pitched keen. He knows he’s not going to live that down after this.

After that, Derek is consistent with the hard abuse on Stiles’ prostate, and Stiles is getting close to orgasm embarrassingly fast. He isn’t too sure he’ll be able to last much longer. Although, Derek doesn’t seem like he’s going to be able to either. If the grunts and groans he’s letting out are anything to go by.

“Unh, fuck. Derek-!”

“Yeah, you’re gonna come?”

Stiles frantically nods his head and grabs his own cock to start stroking himself. Derek thrusts harder if that’s even possible, and within a few seconds, Stiles is coming all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans and thrusts one, two, three more times before stopping with a deep, guttural moan. He almost sounds like an actual bear and Stiles can’t help the giggle that escapes him.

Derek gives him a weird look but his lip quirks up in a maybe sort of smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” Stiles gives him a shit-eating grin.

And since it’s already been established that Derek is an asshole, he grinds and his cock brushes against Stiles’ oversensitive prostate causing Stiles’ whole body to convulse. He slaps Derek’s arm.

Derek pulls out and lets go of Stiles’ legs. They’re sore from being in the same position for so long but Stiles can’t even care. He’s sated and all he wants to do now is take a nap. Stiles stretches his whole body like a cat while Derek disposes of the condom.

“Okay, that was fun. If you want to annoy me, I’ll be in my room.” And with that, Derek walks out of Stiles’ room to go to his own.

Derek was definitely a dick, but Stiles could deal with him. Especially if they continue to fuck like that.

Holy (not) mother of god indeed.

[fanficimagery]

A Fangy Fetish

Imagine finally coming home to your family, only to realize there's something other about your little brother and his friends. But that's okay because you're not exactly the same as you were when you first left either. It's a surprising change, but one you're more than okay with after meeting Peter Hale.

Trigger Warnings: Brief conversation about death, an abusive relationship and a brief scene of spiking one's drink.  Author’s Note: Pls don’t ask about the title. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking XD

Passing up the welcome sign to Beacon Hills should fill you with glee since it's been forever that you've seen your mom and brother, but it merely makes you squirm in your seat since there was a good reason you had stayed away in the first place. And now- now you're meeting with them for the first time since you've changed and you're not sure how it should make you feel.

Your mom hasn't moved from your childhood home and as far as you knew your brother didn't have plans to move out until he had completed vet school, so it's not too hard to track them down. There's no vehicle in the driveway, but the opened curtains to the front windows showcase flickering lights from a TV being cast against the wall. Then cutting the engine, you tuck your hair behind your left ear and angle your ear towards the house to listen. After zoning out various noises, you can hear a TV show playing and your mother's familiar voice muttering obscenities when she sees something she doesn't agree with. There's no other voices or heartbeats so you figure your brother must be out.

Exhaling a nervous sigh, you pull down the visor and check your reflection in the small mirror being lit up by two small lights on either side of it. Then after making sure there's nothing on your face or at the corner of your eyes and mouth, you push the visor back up and then make your way out of the car. Walking up the steps to the front path and then the front path to the house porch, you nervously close the distance to the front door. You hesitate only a second before pressing the doorbell and then step back as you hear your mother pause her show and get up to see who it is.

The door opens and you can't help but smile when you see realization set in and Melissa McCall's eyes widen. "Y/N?"

"Hey, mom."

"Oh my god. Sweetheart!" She closes the distance between the two of you, arms wrapping tightly around you as you laugh and return her embrace. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"It was a split second decision," you tell her, letting her pull back and look you up and down to make sure you're really there. "Then I figured a surprise was in order."

She practically beams. "Come on. Come in," she says. "Oh I can't wait until Scott gets home. He's going to be so happy."

"Yeah, I can't wait to see Scotty either. It's been way too long."

Following your mom, you warily eye the doorway before stepping inside and the various scents of your childhood home make your chest ache with memories you had pushed to the back of your mind. Everything still smells familiar, even if there is a new underlying scent that makes you a little anxious and nose twitch.

"So what have you been up to?" She asks. The two of you settle in the living room and she's quick to turn off the TV in order to give you her full attention. "Catch me up."

"Well," you nervously chuckle, "there's not much to tell. School and work have kept me busy, and then there was this guy-"

"A boy?!" She gasps. "Tell me more."

"For a year," you tell her, your smile faltering. "I was with him for a year when I finally realized our relationship wasn't exactly healthy. The break was pretty amicable, but my trust in him was completely broken."

Melissa's mood immediately drops. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I'm okay now." Your mom looks so heartbroken all of a sudden that you can't help but scoot closer and pull her into a hug again. "Don't be sad," you chuckle. "It's part of growing up. If I didn't go through some stuff, I wouldn't be the person I am today. And let me tell you, I really like the person I am now."

Your mom sniffles. "Well if you're happy.."

"More than," you assure her. "I mean, I could probably use a little more fun between the sheets, but-"

"Y/N!" Melissa pulls back, shock etched into her features. "I am still your mother, young lady."

You burst out laughing, quickly leaning in to peck your mother's cheek. "I know, mom. Just wanted you to stop being sad. It worked."

A moment passes and her shoulders sag. She starts to laugh with you and you're so distracted by cheering her up that you don't hear the car parking outside or the steady heartbeat getting closer and closer. It's only when the front door opens that you freeze, your mom's smile widening.

"Hey, mom, whose car is out front?" Scott rounds the corner and you're surprised at how much your little brother has grown. He stares at you, eyes widening, before a very familiar and very missed crooked smile overtakes his features. "Y/N!"

You're laughing again as Scott practically rushes you, his arms tight around you in a welcoming embrace. He's warm, like really warm, and he has a very distinctive earthly smell. But that can't be right because as far as you knew the werewolf gene did not run in your family's DNA.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asks, squeezing you one last time before letting you go and then putting you at arm's length to look you up and down. He looks between you and your mom, smiling the entire time.

"Thought it was about time I came over for a visit." You shrug. "School is on break and my boss said I needed to cash in my vacation days or I'd lose them."

"I don't even know your boss, but I already love him. If he made you come home, he's okay in my books."

You chuckle, punching Scott lightly on the arm. You open your mouth to reply, but a frantic beeping reaches your ears. You and Scott look at your mom when she frowns, she then walking over towards the kitchen and picking up a beeper. She sighs and looks towards you and your brother, apologetically. "It's the hospital."

"Say no more," you tell her.

"Don't worry. Stiles will be stoked to see Y/N so we'll keep her busy for a while."

"Stiles?" You slowly smirk. "He still a little heathen?"

"Worse." Melissa snorts. "So much worse."

As Melissa gets ready for a shift that has been passed on to her, Scott convinces you to go surprise Stiles who's in town for the week. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time he's set eyes on you, but every now and then you see his expression falter as he stares curiously at you before shaking off whatever it is and going back to his happy self.

The three of you head outside, you and Scott promising Melissa to be home in time for some breakfast before watching her drive off. You and Scott then climb into your own car, and he happily directs you towards the outskirts of town to a seemingly abandoned building.

"What is this place?" You ask, turning off your car and then climbing out.

"An apartment building. Friend of a friend likes his privacy so he bought the building. The only occupied portion of it is the loft at the very top."

"Nice," you quietly muse as you follow after him. But very quickly you come to a certain realization and stumble to a halt. "So he owns the entire building? Privately?"

"Well yeah," Scott says. "Why?"

"Oh no reason." You try to play it off, nonchalant. "I just- I rather not barge in without meeting the guy. Walking in uninvited is bad manners."

Your brother huffs. "It's just Derek. He won't care."

"Yeah, but I will."

Digging your heels in on this, Scott sighs. "Seriously, Y/N. Derek won't mind. You can wait down here all you want, but Derek won't waste his time coming down here just to tell you to come in."

"Can't you call him?"

Seeing your pout, Scott rolls his eyes but the amused little smile doesn't go missed. "Sure. Fine." He pulls out his phone and quickly presses the contact he's looking for. Phone then put on speaker, you flash him a small smile in gratitude.

"What do you want, McCall?"

"So I have a friend down here with me and she's really adamant that she gets an invite from you before we head upstairs. She says it's bad manners to just walk on in."

The guy scoffs. "Whatever. Come in."

Well that should do it. Hopefully.

"Happy now?" Scott puts his phone away after the call is abruptly ended and leads the way inside. "Now hurry up. I wanna see Stiles flip out." You follow him, briefly hesitating at the main door before exhaling silently in relief when you're permitted entry.

The metal, cage-like elevator gives you pause, but Scott promises it works just fine. So after settling inside and vowing to kill him if the elevator fails and falls, Scott presses the button for the loft at the very top of the building. Once stopped, you're then led towards a sliding metal door which Scott readily opens. Again you hesitate, but cross the threshold with no problem.

There are two men in the loft, one whose movements are very familiar and brings a smile to your face. The other one, the one with the dark hair and scruff, well it looks like he's scenting the air until his hardened gaze lands on you. But Stiles, who'd been preoccupied by tell him a story, immediately ceases talking to see what the problem is. And when his gaze lands on you, his jaw drops open and you can't help but snort.

"Holy shit. Y/N?"

"Goddamn, Stilinski," you muse. "You grew up in all the right places." Scott groans and you laugh when Stiles' awed expression turns a bit smug. From one second to the next he's moving and making a beeline for you, the two of you colliding in a hug which he rocks you side to side in. "It's nice to see you too, Stiles."

"How long are you here for? Dad will be happy to see you."

"Two weeks," you tell him as he pulls away. "And I can't wait to see Noah. It's been ages."

"I'm all for reunions," the guy who you're assuming is Derek says, "but why the hell would you guys let me invite a vampire into my home?"

Scott scoffs, Stiles freezes, and you frown at the new guy. This was not how you wanted the news broken to Scott. Your moment of anger, however, is overridden by the fact that there's no immediate denial of the supernatural from either your brother or his best friend.

"My sister isn't-"

"What are you?" You ask, cutting Scott off, glaring at Derek. "You smell wolfish, but so does my brother. Last I knew there was no wolf gene in our family line."

"Y/N, what?" Scott then asks. "You're not- tell him you're not a vampire."

Your gaze slides to Scott and you smile sadly at him. "I'm sorry. I can't do that." He tenses and Stiles takes a few steps back, and your heart breaks. "I promise to explain everything here in a bit, but tell me what's going on. Please. You don't smell human, Scotty, and neither does Eyebrows over there."

Scott gulps and nods, eyes filling with tears that refuse to fall. "Derek Hale comes from a family of werewolves. I'm sure you remember the Hale family before you left for college." There's a huff and you warily eye Derek as he rolls his eyes. Scott clears his throat and continues. "At the start of my sophomore year, I was bitten by a rogue alpha. I turned."

"Huh. I've never met a wolf that could turn someone with a bite."

"Never met a-" Stiles starts, only to stop and redirect his line of thoughts. "Wait, there are other types of werewolves?"

You shrug. "Well, yeah."

Stiles opens his mouth to retort, but Derek is quick to shut him down. "You can get your supernatural fix later, Stiles. Right now, Scott's sister has some explaining to do." By now he's nearly shoulder to shoulder with Stiles, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you.

The guy's gruff, but since he's not outright threatening you, you don't get defensive. "Um, I died about two years ago."

"You died?!" Both Scott and Stiles yelp.

Your lips press into a thin line as you nod. Scott frowns. "Two years ago is when you stopped coming home to visit."

"I-I had to." You glance at your brother as the first tear falls, but you're quick to wipe it away. "About a year prior to dying, I fell in love with a local. Everything was fine. I was happy," you say. "But as the months passed, I started to realize that there were blank spots in my memories. Some days I'd wake up with bruises I couldn't explain or wake up completely exhausted to the point that I couldn't get out of bed. No one, other than myself, realized something was wrong."

"What happened?" Scott quietly asks.

You sniffle, smiling sadly. "My boyfriend. He was a vampire, only I didn't know it until I was one myself."

"Why only after? Surely you could tell something was up when you were with him," Stiles says.

You shake your head, but it's Derek who says. "Vampires can manipulate the mind. It's one reason my mom wasn't very trusting of them."

"He's right. Our kind can compel people- make them forget something happened or plant memories that never existed," you admit. "As it so happened, my boyfriend was feeding off of me without my consent. And when he took too much, I would pass out and then wake up extremely weakened without a clue as to why. Most of the time he compelled me to think that I was fine- that nothing was wrong with me."

"How'd you figure it all out?" Your brother wonders.

You exhale softly. "I went out partying with some friends. On our way back, my friend lost control of the car and slammed into a tree. I died, but I died with vampire blood in my system." All three guys shift uneasily of learning about the ingested blood, so you quickly explain how it got there in the first place. "When my boyfriend was too rough with me, he'd feed me his blood since vampire blood has healing capabilities. The only downfall of ingesting vampire blood is that if you die while it's still lingering in your system, you wake up in transition."

"Which means you had to feed on human blood," Derek says.

"Yes." Stiles and Scott grimace. "I had woken up in the hospital morgue and found my way to the blood bank. It was- it was a clusterfuck," you admit smally. "I gorged, I cried, and I unknowingly compelled the doctors to make them think that I was fine and then fled the hospital as soon as I could. Fortunately for me, there was another vampire at school. When she realized I was newly turned and I told her what I knew, she felt sorry for me. And since I was a vampire myself now, all my compelled memories started to rush back. She helped me break up with my vampire boyfriend and then took me under her wing. She taught me how to control the bloodlust and introduced me to a witch who made me a piece of daylight jewelry so I'd be able to walk in the sun."

Scott and Stiles appear floored by your story, but it's Derek whose expression has yet to falter. "I have one question," he says. You nod, waiting. "Are you here to cause drama for Beacon Hills?"

"No. Never," you immediately answer him. "I honestly just came for mom and Scott. I didn't expect any supernatural to be here at all or even that my baby brother was part of it now too."

"Okay then." His stern expression briefly falters so he flashes a quick smile. "Then welcome home, I guess."

You huff a quiet laugh. "Thanks. I'm Y/N, by the way. Scott's older sister."

"Derek Hale, co-alpha to the McCall/Hale pack."

"Co-alpha, huh. Does that mean," you trail off and glance at your brother, smiling when his eyes flash red at you. "Cool. The werewolves I know can't do that. They're really only dangerous when they've transformed under a full moon. Other than that, they're as human as can be."

"I have so many questions," Stiles muses.

Derek huffs in amusement. "Don't bother. We have books on other breeds of the same species. I just never brought them out because, until now, vampires never stepped foot in Beacon Hills and we didn't have to worry about other breeds of werewolves." He turns and walks back to a metal table where various books are opened, and busies himself by browsing the pages. Stiles is quick to follow after him and pester him about these so-called books.

Scott steps closer to you, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as he smiles sheepishly. "So you're fine?" He wonders. "You're not gonna fang out and drain us of our blood?"

"What?" You snort. "No. If I wanted to drain you or anyone else, I'd have done it when everyone was hugging me and my mouth was literal inches from your throats. I'm fine. You guys have nothing to worry about."

"But you drink blood?"

"I do, although I tend to stick to blood bags from a hospital. If I drink straight from the vein, I only take enough to soothe the thirst and then quickly compel the person to eat a snack or go home and nap."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

You pause. Scott stares at you, and even Derek and Stiles go eerily quiet after the question. You sigh. "Does it matter?" Scott shrugs and you hate you have to admit this. "Yes. My first victim was an accident. It happened when my friend was teaching me how to feed properly and I lost control. It happened twice more, but I was able to save those two individuals before their hearts stopped."

"Any on purpose?" Derek asks from his side of the room.

"A few." You gulp. "The moment a hunter learns you're a vampire, you're apparently fair game. If I have to take a life to keep my own, I will. Dying is not fun and I don't plan on doing it again any time soon." You notice Scott frowns at your answer, but Derek and Stiles hum before accepting your answer as appropriate. And not wanting to get into a discussion of right or wrong, you paste on a smile and change the subject. "So anyway, what else have I missed? Any girlfriends I should know about? Or boyfriends? I don't judge."

Derek snorts and Scott flashes you a crooked smile. "Actually, yeah. My girlfriend and Derek's are out right now buying some stuff to throw a party."

"Oohhh. Do these girlfriends have names?"

"Yeah. Malia and Kira," Stiles says. "Malia's my ex-girlfriend and Derek's long lost cousin, but now she's Scott's girlfriend. And Kira is Scott's ex-girlfriend who is now Derek's girlfriend."

"That is.. weird," you say, chuckling softly. "But cool, I guess, if you guys seem to have no problem with it."

"We're all pack," Scott tells you. "We're more than fine with it."

"And I'm actually dating Lydia Martin," Stiles says, "but she's super busy with school which is why she's not here."

"Lydia Martin?" Your nose wrinkles. "Snooty Martin?"

"Hey!" Stiles quickly reprimands you. "She's not so bad anymore. Not after finding out she was a banshee."

"Hold up. What?"

"Yeah. Lydia's a banshee." He shrugs. "Kira's a kitsune and Malia's a werecoyote."

"Holy shit. What the hell has Beacon Hills come to?"

"That's nothing," Derek says. "If you had been here all along, you'd have seen a lot more than just that. Beacon Hills is a beacon for crazy."

"Yeah. No shit."

What little tension that had been lingering finally vanishes and everyone shares a friendly laugh. But when a newcomer enters the apartment, it has your hackles rising.

"Ugh. Who let a bloodsucking fiend in?"

The elder gentleman that enters is rather attractive, but the scowl he's directing in your direction leaves you scowling back. "Aren't you a little old to be wearing v-necks?"

"And aren't you a little new to be taunting the big bad wolf?"

You hiss. "Do we like this guy?"

Without missing a beat, Derek says, "On occasion."

"Good." Then before anyone can blink, you use your vampiric speed to appear inches from the newcomer, grab him by the throat and pin him to the floor. Stiles and Scott yelp at your sudden movements, but you pay them no mind as you snarl in the wolf's face. "You don't wanna get on my bad side."

The wolf blinks in surprise and everyone seems to hold their breath. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, but since it's slow you don't bother to act on it. Instead, fingers gently touch your face before a thumb brushes on the underside of your left eye where you know small black veins are pulsing. "Beautiful."

You freeze and slowly ease up on the wolf. "What?"

He smirks. "If you wanted me on my back, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask." Derek, Stiles and Scott all groan. "Peter Hale, at your service."

"Y/N McCall," you hesitantly introduce yourself. Climbing off of him and steadily walking on your own two feet, you can't help but knock him down a peg when you see his expression. "And don't look too smug. The other Hale is hotter."

Meeting Malia and Kira was rather interesting, especially when you saw what they were face to face rather than just hearing about it. Seeing Scott and Malia shift almost left you speechless, but seeing Kira left you in complete awe. They had then asked to see you and Malia was the only one to not balk or make some sort of disgusted facial expression when you mentioned needed a bag of blood soon.

Over the next couple of days, Scott manages to convince you to explain to your mom about your new status as a vampire, as well as Noah Stilinski since both of them knew about the supernatural. And since Noah was like a father figure, you, Scott and Stiles got them together for a family dinner where you told them your story. Noah was angry and your mother was heartbroken, but both accepted you with open arms.

Being with your family and your brother's pack brings you a sense of calm that you haven't felt in a long while. You're easily accepted without question and it's like you've known everyone your entire life with how easily they talk with you. Peter, however, is a completely different story. While he's friendly, just like everyone else, he's a little too friendly. You were more than ready to return the teasing innuendos, but then Scott had to burst your bubble by telling you that he was Malia's biological father. Malia, however, is quick to assure you that she and Peter have a rocky relationship and that she doesn't care who Peter chooses to show affection to so long as she didn't have to see it or hear it.

You were hesitant to be so carefree and teasing with Peter afterwards, but the recent lack of male attention had you caving before the week was even over.

"So what happens if your daylight necklace is ripped off?" Stiles asks. It's now Saturday afternoon and everyone is at Derek's, making sure the loft is party ready for later that night. "Do you just burst into flames right then and there?"

"No." You snort. "It starts off as a sizzle and you have seconds to flee to the shadows before bursting into flames." Malia helps you position a keg into a large metal bin, Kira then filling the empty space around it with ice. "And my necklace is spelled. No one other than myself can remove it so I don't have to worry about someone ripping it off."

"I'm not gonna lie, I kind of want to see you burst into flames."

"You're an asshole."

"Actually, I kind of want to see it too," Malia says.

Stiles beams, pointing at Malia and nodding. "See! I'm not the only one."

You glance at Kira and she sheepishly smiles, not even attempting to deter her pack mates who want to see you purposely set yourself on fire. A moment passes before you sigh. "Fine, but you better get me a blood bag or I'm sinking fang into someone's vein."

Stiles is quick to scramble for the kitchen, no doubt making a beeline for one of the few blood bags Derek had tossed into the back of his fridge. You groan but chuckle nonetheless as you look around for the perfect spot and then find it in the corner of the loft just right by the overly large windows. Then settling in the corner with your back against the brick wall, you exhale deeply before carefully reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. Grimacing, you look forward and hold your necklace out for someone to grab. Kira hurriedly steps forward and takes your necklace with gentle hands.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm doing this." You shakily raise your arm, hand reaching towards the sun rays before your fingers curl into a fist. You sigh, nervously chuckling as you shake your hand out. "Okay. I can do this. It's just a little fire and then I'll heal."

Stiles, Malia and Kira are all eerily silent as they watch you. You're grimacing before the sunlight even touches you and then your whole face is scrunching up when you feel the sizzle before hearing it. Kira gasps and your eyes don't even have to be open to know what they're seeing. Unblemished skin darkening before slowly glowing like burning embers. Seconds later the smoke starts and against your better judgment you hold your ground. At least until you feel your hand igniting in flames and then you're quickly bringing your arm close to your body and patting the fire out.

"Ow, ow, ow." You utter. "Fuck! Give me the blood!"

Stiles is staring at you, wide-eyed, before Malia rolls her eyes and grabs the blood bag from his hands to toss at you. Catching it with one hand, you nod at the werecoyote before dropping fang and biting directly into the bag. At that, Stiles gags. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Pulling your fangs from your snack, you mutter, "Pussy," and then go back to draining the bag.

Stiles gasps in mock offense as the girls chuckle. Your hand had immediately healed after your first gulp, but you drain the bag anyway since you're going to be around a lot of strangers later on.

The loft door slides open and immediately all three wolves wrinkle their noses.

"Why does it smell like burning flesh?" Peter asks. No one says anything, but their eyes slide to you knowingly. You sheepishly smile as you hide the blood bag behind your back. Peter's eyes narrow. "What did you do?"

The heaviness of all their stares makes you squirm. "It was Stiles' idea!"

"Hey!" He barks. "Don't forget about Malia and Kira." Both girls frown at him in betrayal, but he merely shrugs in return. "If I'm going down, I'm taking all of you with me."

All three werewolves sigh, rolling their eyes. Scott and Derek bring in the delicate black lights that need to be fixated around the loft, and the buckets of neon paints. Peter drops whatever was in the brown paper bags he was holding and then saunters towards you. He spots Kira holding your necklace and snatches it from her hands. You subconsciously press your back into the corner, but Peter merely smirks as he unclasps the necklace in his hands and holds it out, waiting to place it around your neck.

"Come on, sweetheart. We don't have all day." Your eyes narrow at his teasing smile and you step towards him so he can put your necklace back on. And since you're facing him, refusing to give him your back, he reaches around you to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. Then letting it settle against your throat, he untucks your hair from the chain and then gently cusps the sides of your neck in his hands while his thumbs brush along your jawline. His smile drops. "Don't do that again. If Stiles wants to see a fire, let the moron set himself ablaze."

"Hey! I heard that."

You blink in surprise at Peter before he takes his leave, only to see the subtly surprised expression Derek is sporting and the sour expression your brother can't help but show. Malia is indifferent to the exchange, Kira looks rather amused, and Stiles is just put out because he was called a moron. Nothing else is said on the matter, so you quickly flee the corner of shadows and get back to work.

          - - - - - - - - - -

The party has only just begun by the time you send Malia and Kira on their way. You had painted both their faces with wolf-like features- Malia in blue and Kira in orange. You had also painted markings along their collar bones, and swirls and floral patterns up and down their arms. They were prepared to wait for you, but you insisted they head on out and that you'd join them soon enough.

You're left alone in Derek's bathroom, bowls of paint and paintbrushes scattered along the counter top as you determine what you want. Eventually you settle for neon green skeletal features, jagged teeth painted over your lips. You outline your neck and collar bones, and then stand there while you fan yourself so the paint will dry.

The faint sound of creaking catches your attention and you immediately glance towards the doorway. Peter stands there, leaning against the door jamb. "Love the handiwork," he says. "Are you taking any requests?"

You faintly grin at him. "No because then that puts the pressure on me to give you exactly what you want. But if you want me to paint you a surprise, then I'm your girl."

"Hmm. My girl. I think I like the sound of that."

"Of course you do." Your eyes roll, but the quirk of your lips tells him you're amused rather than annoyed. "Now get in here. I'll try and make it quick." Peter pushes off the door jamb and walks in, getting up close and personal to your back. You think he's trying to make you squirm, but you merely frown when you realize just how much taller he is than you when you stare at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Well this isn't going to work," you mutter. Pushing the bowls of paint and paint brushes aside, you turn around and hop onto the counter. "There. That's better."

"So much," he says while stepping into the space between your knees.

Snorting, you let the remark slide and grab his face in your hands. Turning his face this way and that way, you hum as you determine what you're going to paint for him. "Wanna match?" You ask. Then without giving him a chance to answer, you grab the bowl with green paint and a paintbrush. "We're gonna match, but you're only getting half a face because I really need to get out there and dance."

Peter fights off a smile as you grasp his chin with one hand and then quickly dip a paintbrush into the green paint with the other. The moment the loaded brush touches the center of his forehead, however, he schools his features so you have an unwrinkled canvas. The left side of his face gets the skeletal treatment, but when that's done you can't help but dip three fingers into purple paint and drag them down the unpainted side of his face.

He grins afterward. "Does this mean I can mark you back?"

"I don't see why not. Just nothing on my face."

Peter carefully coats his entire hand in pink before he looks at you, eyes darting up and down as he determines where he's going to mark. He smirks and then gently wraps his hand around your throat. He leaves it there, squeezing just so, and you gulp beneath his hand.

"Ooohh. Don't threaten me with a fun time." His eyes flare blue in response and you can feel your own eyes change in return as he drops his hand and slowly leans in. You put a hand on his chest to stop his progression. "Seriously, Hale. If you mess up all my hard work before anyone has a chance to see it, I will rip your jugular out."

Peter growls and you quickly lean in to snap your fangs right in front of his face. He shudders and you chuckle lowly before nudging him back and hopping off the counter. After all, you had a party to attend.

          - - - - - - - - - -

The party has a bit more people than you'd expected there to be and even Derek seems a bit surly over how any people are in his home. But the DJ is amazing, the drinks are flowing, and the strobe lights are flashing in tune with the beats.

Everyone is lit up, whether it be their clothing or because of the paint, and you readily slide into the dancing masses. You don't seek out anyone in particular, choosing to dance on your own or anyone who sidles up to you in order to have a good time. But the second they get too handsy for your liking, you're shoving them off and moving on.

You're dancing, swiveling your hips and laughing with a few females who were all too happy to have you join them. You turn around, putting the girls at your back when your hands slide up your neck to gather your hair and hold it up off your neck before letting it fall once more. Your eyes somehow manage to find Peter, but the once teasing wolf looks anything but teasing. In fact, he looks rather pissed. And that- that just won't do.

Pushing through the bodies, you eventually make your way towards Peter from behind and tiptoe so your chin hooks over his shoulder. "So who are we killing?" You muse.

He tenses, but upon realizing who it is he's quick to relax. And without missing a beat, he says, "Two o'clock. Apparently this young man, if you can even call him that, has made the mistake of spiking a drink in hopes of giving it to one of the young ladies here. Fortunately, every female he's tried to pawn it off on has been smart enough to not take the pre-made drink."

His words immediately sour your mood. "Well that just won't do."

Before Peter can stop you, you're falling back onto the balls of your feet and practically skipping towards the guy Peter had been murdering with his eyes. A smile here, a touch there, and whispered promises of a good time goes a very long way and it doesn't take long to have the guy following after you. Then as you're about to pass up Peter with Troy (that was the guy's name, the one who was looking to roofie some poor innocent soul) following you, you flash Peter a wink and mutter follow me just loud enough so that he could hear.

You manage to avoid the rest of the pack as you lead Troy out of the loft and into the hallway, manhandling the all too eager dude-bro against the wall. He's a pretty decent looking dude, but his smug aura and tendency to roofie his potential hook-ups is a major turn off. So you tease him with a pretty smile, leaning in so your lips are just centimeters apart.

"Forgive me. I hope I'm not interrupting."

You pull back, turning half way and grinning at the intruder. There stands Peter, looking like he's not sorry at all. But Troy- Troy is annoyed. "Fuck off, man."

"Well that's no way to talk to your betters," Peter drawls.

"Yeah I gotta admit," you say. "That was a dick thing to say."

Troy glances between you and Peter, scoffing. "Whatever. I can find another girl to get laid by back in the party."

He goes to push off the wall, nudging you out of the way, but your hand lands in the middle of his chest before shoving him back into the wall. "I think not." Then meeting his gaze, you smile cruelly as you say, "Do not make a sound."

Troy's mouth opens as if to tell you off, but not a peep comes out. His eyes widen and Peter chuckles as he saunters towards you. "Huh. Having a vampire around could come in handy."

"So says the werewolf," you muse. Troy struggles against your hand, but he's not going anywhere. Not even when he raises a hand to strike you because Peter reaches out with lightning quick reflexes and catches his wrist. You smirk before looking at Troy. "Now that wasn't very nice. I was just going to let you go after scaring you a bit, but now.."

"Now," Peter says, "I think it's time we give you a taste of your own medicine. Let you know how it feels to have something taken from you without your consent." Troy's eyes widen even more while you and Peter snicker at the spike of fear in his scent. "Y/N, will you do the honors?"

"With pleasure." You stare at Troy, willing your features to change right before his very eyes and hissing when your fangs elongate. He renews his struggle in order to get away, but with your strength and Peter's he's going anywhere. "Now this is going to hurt like hell," you coo. "I want you to feel the fear of every girl you ever roofied just so you could get your dick wet."

Your smiling façade drops as you snarl, opening your mouth wider as your head rears back before you lunge forward and sink your teeth into Troy's neck. You feel him stiffen in pain, struggling even more to get away as you harshly drain his life's essence through the wound in his neck. But the second you feel his struggle lessen, you pull back and lick the corners of your mouth.

Peter chuckles darkly as you pat Troy on his cheeks. "Perk up some, will 'ya? I hardly drained an artery."

"Uh, sweetheart? I don't think he can talk."

"Oh. Right!" Catching Troy's gaze once more, you say, "You can make sound again, but you're never going to speak about what just happened. You're going to forget that monsters exist. All you need to know that if you ever see my face or his face again," you compel him while gesturing to Peter who's now standing over your shoulder, "then you're going to remember something terrible happened but you're not quite sure what. You'll just be deathly afraid. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. Also, you're never going to spike another drink ever again. If you ever just THINK about taking anything without the person's consent, you're going to get violently ill and remember the pain in your neck from when I sunk my teeth into it. Got it?"

"Y-Yes."

"Awesome! Now, run along. You're no longer welcomed here."

Troy blinks rapidly, his mind clearing briefly as the compulsion sets in. When he sees you again, and then Peter at your back, his eyes widen before he scrambles to the side and rushes for the elevator. You laugh and wiggle your fingers in a mocking wave. Then the moment he's in Derek's death trap of an elevator and is descending, Peter's crowding you against the wall as he dips down so his hands can grab the back of your thighs and lift you up.

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist and you have a split second of being surprised before his mouth is pressing against yours, tongue licking into your mouth a couple of times, teasing yours, before teeth pull on your bottom lip as he retreats. You groan, hands finding purchase on his shoulders before sliding back and up, and settling at the nape of his neck. "So, uh, violence really does it for 'ya. Huh?"

"You have no idea." Peter leans in once more, nose brushing against yours and leaving you anticipating his next bruising kiss, but he merely presses his lips softly against yours. You whimper and he smirks. "Now, now. Patience is a virtue." You growl and he chuckles. "Trust me. The last thing we need is to get carried away in the hall and-"

"Oh gross. Seriously, you guys!?"

Peter sighs as you jolt in his hold. You're already staring wide-eyed at your brother, so Peter slowly lets you down before bringing you into his side and slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Yes?" He drawls.

Scott wrinkles his nose. "You guys good out here? Stiles said he saw you leave with a stranger and Peter looked a little too happy about it."

"It's fine," you assure him. "Just some guy trying to roofie himself a quick lay." Scott bristles, but your too calm demeanor keeps him from asking questions. "If you're wondering, I just scared him a bit and then sent him on his way."

"Y/N!" He says. "He's just going to go out there and do it again."

"Please," you scoff. "Do you think me dumb, brother? I obviously compelled him."

"She did." Peter smiles. "And it was marvelous. You should have seen it."

"I don't know. It seems to have gotten the both of you amped up so I assume it's something I'd have disapproved of." You and Peter both smile innocently at Scott, and he rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Either rejoin the party or go somewhere else. Don't have sex in the hall. I have to walk through here."

As Scott disappears, you hum and nudge Peter with your hip. "Well would you look at that. You got the alpha's permission to defile his own flesh and blood. Wherever shall we go?"

"I've got a condo downtown."

"Too far. My car is downstairs," you say as Peter chuckles. "We can take the edge off first and then head back to your place."

"Finally! A McCall whose choices I can get behind."

"Are my choices the only thing you'd like to get behind?" You smirk at him, winking, and then start heading towards the elevator. "Lets go, Mr. Wolf. I only have less than a week left in Beacon Hills and I'd like to find out exactly how rough a wolf like you can get."

[softranswolves]

For It May Not Be My Time

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Rating: Teen

Ships: n/a

Characters: Derek Hale, Laura Hale, Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski, Deaton

Words: 1598

LAURA HALE APPRECIATION WEEK - DAY FOUR THEME: resurrection

When Lydia shows up at his door to tell him his name unlocked the last of the list, he doesn't react. He knows Braeden is watching him, gauging how he responds. He knows Lydia will slowly come down from her premonition and switch to fix-it mode. She came alone, not wanting him to feel subjected to the pack's stares, but he knows that Stiles knows, and the kid has never been great at keeping pertinent information quiet.

He insists that he's fine each time he's asked, Braeden deciding to let him stew in whatever he's feeling while Scott and Stiles try to get more out of him. The latter goes so far as to goad Derek, trying to taunt him into talking but that isn't something they've ever done and he doesn't plan on starting now. It's easy to push back when they ask, because he's being honest. He isn't looking forward to dying, but he's resigned to it, knowing he's made his mother proud, made his family proud. He's worked to right the wrongs Peter has done, making Hale a respectable name again. Maybe he'll get to be with them soon.

"She didn't show you the whole list, did she?" Stiles asks a few days later. The whole pack has been working overtime to protect their own and figure out who is behind the deadpool in the first place. Kira returned after staying in hospital with her mom, and Scott has taken some time away from everyone to be alone with her, leaving Stiles with nobody else to pester.

"Why does it matter, Stiles? I'm marked for death, I know that already." He's exasperated but tolerant, realizing he might actually end up missing the banter they have. His gaze doesn't leave the gun he's reassembling, a task Braeden gave him for when he needs something to fill the spare time.

"Because there's a name on it that might draw your attention, sour wolf." Stiles is serious, and while this has become the norm after his possession, it's still out of place.

"So? Who was it?" He can hear the uptick in Stiles' pulse, scents anxiety in the air, but maintains his focus. If he engages, Stiles may take it as invitation for another attempt at a heart-to-heart.

There's no response for a moment, just the sound of paper unfolding, before a crumpled sheet slides into Derek's line of sight. He looks up at Stiles, who crosses his arms and simply nods toward the paper to emphasize Derek should look at it. Obliging, he scans the sheet, landing on a name two-thirds down the list.

"That's not possible," he says, eyes stuck on the letters. He doesn't pay attention to the numbers, just that string of impossibility.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, voice tense but gentle.

"You saw her body, you know it's not possible."

"Also shouldn't be possible for Peter to be alive, what with his quasi-possession of Lydia a few months ago, yet here we are."

Silence blossoms between them, and Derek thanks the universe for Stiles letting him sit with the information.

"Could it be outdated? Maybe the list isn't live, maybe it was made years ago," Derek suggests. He looks up to Stiles, eyes wide in hopeful shock. The only response he gets is a shrug as Stiles considers and starts to pace, running a hand through his hair in contemplation.

"I mean, it could be. We still don't know anything about it besides where the money came from. Lydia says she can feel a tangible thread to Laura, but she never met her and couldn't say for sure what it means."

Derek nods, standing to look out the window in thought.

"Have you talked to Deaton? Maybe he knows something, being human like you."

"We were kind of waiting to see what you wanted us to do," Stiles says. "She was your sister, after all, and there's no way we're bringing it to Peter without you. Y'know, her literal murderer?" He's pushing at Derek's buttons again, but this time he doesn't mind quite as much. He just nods again before turning back to Stiles.

"We can take the Camaro," Derek says, walking toward the door after grabbing a jacket and his keys."Though we should stop to pick up Lydia."

"Why Lydia?" Stiles asks as he follows after Derek.

"She can explain to Deaton what feelings she's having about Laura. He may be able to interpret them better than you or I could."

"Makes sense." Stiles is quiet after that, not saying anything for so long that Derek thinks it may be the longest he's gone without talking.

While he may have preferred this conversation to happen between the veterinarian and himself privately, he knew Lydia and Stiles would be useful at asking questions he may not consider and keep Derek from going too far off the deep end. The last time he'd been in a room with him alone was the night he kidnapped Deaton, thinking him to be the Alpha at the time. Things may have changed but he still kept his distance.

The boys drive to the Martin house, texting Lydia to join them, and continue the last few minutes to the Vet Clinic. Lydia was unsurprised when she sat down in the car, but seems uneasy around Derek, as though his impending death prediction is making her uncomfortable. He doesn't let himself dwell on it, instead focusing on clearing up his confusion.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Deaton asks when the trio arrives, motioning to the chairs in the back to sit in. Lydia takes a seat while Stiles continues the pacing he had started at the loft, and Derek simply hands Deaton the list of names.

"See anyone on there that shouldn't be? Any impossible names jumping out?" His voice is raised despite his efforts, and he clenches his fists to ground himself.

"I do," Deaton starts, his usual tone of knowing more than the rest of the room. "What do you think?" He directs the question at Lydia.

"I think... it's not an accident that her name is there," Lydia tries. "These lists, they don't feel arbitrary, as if everyone supernatural in Beacon Hills was added. Cora isn't on there, and as far as we know she's alive." She doesn't seem to want to meet Derek's eye, but he can understand it.

"So you think she's alive." It's a statement, not a question, but Derek' bluntness cuts through the room.

"I didn't say that," Lydia says quietly. "She doesn't feel dead, but she also doesn't feel alive either. It's not the same as when you were taken by Kate, but it's similar." She stands and puts her hand on top of Derek's, a similar motion to a few weeks ago when he'd been lying on the same table they're gathered around now, only a teenaged version of himself.

"So where does that leave us?" Stiles asks. He notes the way Derek has gone tense, and decides to push once more. "Derek, what's wrong? Isn't it a good thing if your sister is still with us?"

He's leaning over the table, arms holding his weight up at the edge, and he shakes his head, smiling to himself a little.

"I was so ready to die," he breathes out. "I'm just so... tired, and when Lydia told me my name was a key for the deadpool? I was relieved. I could stop fighting, stop pretending I know what the hell I'm doing, and be with her again."

Lydia reaches her arm up to rub circles against his back, feeling his sigh beneath her hand.

"The others, I miss them everyday. But for years it was just me and Laura against the world. I don't know what I'm supposed to do if she's alive somehow."

"You keep fighting," a voice chimes in, and it's familiar, too familiar. Derek spins around to see his older sister standing there, a sad smile on her face as she plays with the pendant hanging from her neck.

"Laura? Wha- how?" Derek is frozen in place, mouth hanging open as he stumbles over his words trying to speak properly.

"I'm sorry, Derek, I'm so sorry." She rushes forward to pull him into a hug before taking a step back, holding him at arm's length. "You've grown in just these past few months, Der. Look at you." She has tears in her eyes and laughs a little.

Derek still hasn't spoken, but Laura doesn't seem to mind.

"I haven't been back too long, I promise. I just needed to get my bearing before I came back into your life, especially considering how mine ended."

"How did you come back?" Stiles cuts in, curiosity getting the better of him. Laura turns to look at him but someone else answers first.

"Peter," Lydia says. "It happened when I brought back Peter, didn't it?" Her voice is small, shaking slightly as she recalls those traumatic months, only part of which she actually remembers.

"You're the smart one, aren't you?" Laura answers. "I still don't really know how, and Deaton hasn't been able to fully explain it either. But yes, when you resurrected him, it ended up like a package deal. Whether it was some karmic twist of fate or just Hale blood keeping us bound together, I'm back. And apparently being hunted despite only the people in this room knowing I'm alive." She scoffs at this last bit, turning her attention back to Derek.

"I'm back, baby brother. What do you say we figure this out together?"

[princeescaluswords]

2, 7, 10, 28, if you feel like answering any or all?

2. Anything that you’d like to write but feel like you’re unable to?

There are various forms of the same story that have been floating around my idea folder for years, which can be summed up as "What if Scott McCall Didn't ..." that I have been meaning to write but I can't seem to bring myself to do it. Such as --

What if Scott took Stiles advice in Season 1 and let the Argents have Derek?

What if Scott sat Season 2 out the way Allison wanted him to?

What if Scott decided to let Derek's betas be Derek's problem in 3A?

What if Scott let the adults kill Stiles in 3B?

What if Scott chose not to protect others in 4?

What if Scott came back and let someone else handle the Beast in 5B?

There are many different versions of this story which come down to Scott putting his own wants and needs first. Dating Allison or Kira, working at the vet, playing lacrosse, going to a good college, and doing what most other teenagers would do in that situation.

But I've never been able to write it, not only because of the massive amounts of Major Character Death that would happen but also because it feels like I'd be playing into fandom's urge to tear Scott down. Isn't it funny? I'm not writing anything like Scott is a selfish monster killing those who threaten him or stand in is way, instead, I'm writing Scott as someone who doesn't feel obligated to risk his life for others, which is what most people would do, and yet I feel so uncomfortable writing that scenario that I can't bring myself to do it.

7. Your favourite ao3 tag.

Strangely enough in light of my answer above, apparently my favorite tag is Alternate Universe - Dark.

Now, I have the sneakiest suspicion that I don't use the term "dark" the way other people use the term "dark." To me, it means that the light failed -- that the villains got their way and that innocent people got hurt or even killed. That the heroes stumbled and have to bear the consequence of those decisions or that to win they had to make incredible sacrifice.

To me, a 'dark' story is where the injustice present in the universe is not sufficiently corrected or only successfully opposed enough so it doesn't get any worse. In many ways, Teen Wolf is a dark story -- Scott never gets the future he should have had because he made the sacrifice so others can get have a future, while Peter Hale reclaims his family legacy, Chris Argent gets a new family, and Derek Hale rides off into the sunset. (We'll see if the movie corrects this.)

Unfortunately, nearly half the time, "dark" on AO3 means sexual predators are rewarded with pliant victims, where murderers luxuriate over the bodies of the innocent, where those who try to protect others on principle are sneered at, where selfishness is treated as the ultimate virtue. The heroes are revealed to be villains and the villains are revealed to be pragmatists who live happily ever after. There's a difference between exploring the shadows and exulting in them.

It's still my favorite, but it's hard sometimes to find good content.

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

Answered here.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

Sit down where you write for one hour a day. Open your notebook or your computer or whatever you use and write. Even if its garbage. Even if you know you're going to trash it at the end of the hour. Even if you stare at the blank screen in dull oblivion for that entire time Writing becomes easier when it's a habit. When you're busy with other things and your subconscious mind can say "It's time to write!" And sure, some of those hours will be wasted but many of those hours won't be and a lot of those hours will be incredibly productive. If you wait for the exact perfect situation to write, if you wait until you are inspired to the heights of sublimity, you will be waiting for an extremely long time and you won't have developed the intellectual muscles to utilize those rare moments effectively.

(Thanks to Dr. Bert Stern, one of my undergraduate English teachers, for this advice.)

[lady-star-strings]

About Dream’s Tweets...

To begin with, I’m demisexual and have been part of the community for years - I think I have pretty good credence to speak on this matter. I try not to throw my two cents into situations like this because I can’t stand the ignorant responses of the internet anymore at my age - DeviantArt Dark Ages vet right here - but sometimes I just have to. Whether you agree or not, I could honestly care less, but I would appreciate it if you read everything and gave it some thought before responding, be it positive or negative. With that said, let’s dive in...

At this point, if people are taking the shipping/fanservice jokes and banter between the Dream Team and other creators surrounding them seriously, I don't know what to tell them or really even say, honestly. They've all stated they're not looking to start relationships with each other - multiple times and on-stream/Twitter, might I add, because people keep donating and asking/demanding an answer to both that and about their sexualities - and that it's just messing around with friends. (If we want to talk about making people uncomfortable and being offensive in that regard, don’t you worry because I've got opinions on that too.) Bottom line is, you can't get mad at them for the fan-service now when you supported it before, especially when nothing has changed and they’ve been transparent about how everything actually is.

I understand that some may feel it’s an insensitive and inappropriate thing to do in some regards, and that's perfectly valid, but please don't go mobbing through the town with pitchforks over literal jokes between friends. Keep in mind, they’ve made it clear that’s all it was before people starting jumping down their throats, and still there are groups using their sexuality to attack them over it because "YoU'rE nOt MlM sO yOu CaN't MaKe ThOsE jOkEs, YoU'rE hOmOpHoBiC!!!!!" They're even openly attacking lesbians and bisexuals - whether they agree with them or not - because they're not gay and that somehow renders their words “invalid.” You can't accuse them of being ignorant for messing around as friends because it entertains the fans, and then turn around to attack literally the entire rest of the community for offering their opinions because they aren't valid enough for you in the argument to count - that makes you ignorant. You also can’t claim to be of the opinion that everyone’s sexuality is their own business, but then demand for them not to be ambiguous about it when it pleases you. Honestly, even thinking about people doing that is so incredibly hypocritical that it gives me whiplash.

I completely understand not everyone is a fan of this behavior, but to accuse them of queerbaiting, being homophobic and faking allyship over it all right now is just ridiculous and borderline disgusting to me. They've made it clear they're not romantically interested in one another countless times and that it's just fun between friends because they're super close - they aren't playing the "Am I, or am I not?" game with anyone for gain so no, they're not queerbaiting. Queerbaiting is when it’s not explicitly said at any point whether someone is or isn’t LGBTQIA+ so they can play both the community and conservative side by putting them in ambiguous situations that can lean one way or the other for gain, whether it be monetary or otherwise. Not to mention, if they were really as “homophobic” and “falsely allied” as everyone thinks, why would other LGBTQIA+ creators such as Antfrost, Eret, Scott Major, etc. not only support them, but also consider them friends? Again, I get the offense and hurt people might have taken from this behavior, but your opinions and feelings are ultimately not universal so while they are all valid, that doesn't make them right and the final say on the matter. I don’t mean this to say you’re wrong or inferior in the argument, just that you can’t demand others to see your point of view and abide by it without granting them the same respect. The road goes both ways kiddos, I’m sorry. 

Side note, there's no one to blame but the fans themselves for the jokes and whatnot to have continued on this long because they not only supported it, but also actively encouraged it. It’s been taken so seriously that Dream has outright stated on a stream - and now on Twitter - that he and George aren't together and more than likely never will be because they're honest to goodness just really good friends screwing around. Now if you think you're uncomfortable as part of the community, how do you think they feel being accused every five minutes of being against it because they won’t openly state their sexuality? Not to mention, they can't ever talk about actual relationships or joke about other ships because people will literally send death threats to whoever the other party is because they're "rUiNiNg ThE sHiP" at this point - need I remind you of the Septiplier fiasco? It’s alright if it’s a persona or a personality, but for the love of all things holy, please stop treating people like Barbie dolls that you’re trying to make kiss. They gave us the go-ahead to ship them because it makes us happy and allows us to be creative with the concept - don’t ruin it by trying to force them to play the parts you’ve constructed in your head and then get pissy because they won’t.

Also, it is unbelievably messed up for you to donate money to ask their sexuality and/or for them to tell each other that they love them - which then basically makes it a demand because if they ignore it they get blasted for not responding and “taking their money.” For example, Dream will say he loves any of his friends without issue because he does - just not in the way everyone is assuming or wants - and that's just the type of person he is, but George doesn't like to express it that way and that's okay. He shows his love in other ways that we don't always need to know about or see to make it real, just as it is with anyone else in the world. I don’t know how so many people miss it, but when he gets a donation to tell Dream - or anyone for that matter - he loves him on stream, you can easily tell how uncomfortable it makes him - and yes Dream presses/teases him about it sometimes, but he still drops it and doesn't flame him for it for eternity. Those that donate and chat, on the other hand, will not let it go when he doesn’t say it and continue to pour donations in begging him to say it when he’s already made it clear he won’t. You honestly shouldn't be bribing them to say or do anything through donation because that's beyond messed up and manipulative, especially where these matters are concerned.

And even if they weren't straight - which used to be the case and may have changed by this time, we can’t determine such things nor should we try to - or were in a relationship with each other, it isn't any of your goddamn business to know - no way, no how. What they do offline and out of the public eye isn't anyone's business but their own and people need to respect that, not try to force it out of them or play detective to dox that information for the attention. I mean, if you want a good reason as to why Dream hasn't done a face reveal yet, this is absolutely number one on the list because there will be little to no form of privacy for him after he does and he isn't ready to lose that just yet. I certainly can’t blame him for that considering all that’s been happening to him and his friends as of late, and neither can multiple other creators who hold the same beliefs and fears - ie. CorpseHusband, H20Delirious, Ohmwrecker. No one should have to tip-toe on eggshells in their personal life because fans online don't understand boundaries, that's just cruel and unfair after providing the content and comfort that they do without asking anything but support in return.

At the end of the day, I truly just don't understand how people can join in and support the jokes that they've made clear are purely just messing around, but then turn around and crucify them for the exact same thing later down the road. How can you practically harass them about their sexuality and relationship status through providing monetary means, then go on a witch hunt because they’ve decided to be more private with that information in the present? You can't play both sides and then expect to somehow be right or justified in the situation whichever way the tide turns because, at that point, the only wrong one is you. I completely agree that they need to watch their step with what they say and do sometimes - just as everyone with a strong platform does - but only more so now because people will create a problem the second they do anything that could spin into them being horrible people with too much power.

They’re all still incredibly fresh and new to the realm of social media popularity all things considered, and they reached said popularity startlingly fast so it can’t be easy to adjust to all the attention on everything you say and do. With that said, they’re doing remarkably well so far and I have faith that they’re going to continue to learn and grow in this arena given the time. They might mess up and make mistakes - already have, in fact - but that’s part of the gig and you can’t always please or satisfy everyone, so the best you can do is acknowledge your faults and move forward. You can’t demand someone’s head on a pike when they’ve made an effort to right things and it wasn’t good enough for everyone, it’s just not a fair standard to hold anyone to. In that same vein, you also can’t demand whatever you want out of them with the excuse that they owe it to you as a fan - you’re not a fan in any way, shape or form when you play that card, and you need to either shape up or ship out if you're doing that.

If you don't support it and/or don't like it, just don't follow or watch them anymore, it’s truly as simple as that. You can't continue to watch and support them as a “fan” while also touting how ignorant and horrible they are as detractors, that's just not how it works - pick one or the other and stop attacking them and those that don’t agree with you. They’re only on year one of their careers and the amount of people trying to “cancel” and tear them down over things that really aren't issues already is ridiculous, you aren't the righteous keyboard warriors you think you are and it's things like this that are ruining the internet for everyone, not just you.

That’s all I have to say on the matter and will continue to say going forward - sorry if you came here looking for my usual nonsense, but I really felt this needed to be said and addressed. I usually try not to do these sort of rants, however, this is a serious matter and a discussion that we as a community have been needing to have for a while, so now’s as good a time as any.

So, with my peace being given and my two cents thoroughly tossed, why don’t we focus on the bigger issues with YouTube such as their blatant ignorance of pedophilia and copyright abuse? Those seem like a much bigger problems to address at this point in time since that effects creators and fans as a whole - both in the present and the future - don’t you think?

[anxiousstark]

S1 02.2 | Heart Monitor

MASTERLIST

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 1350

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, swearing (always).

A/N: This chapter is kind of short and doesn’t have too much excitment. But this is a slow-burn story, and it will slowly lead to Y/N’s life and what is happening to her. Next week I will do a DOUBLE UPDATE!

"Do you have your keys?" Stiles asked Scott. It seemed like he had a plan to help him repress his anger. I simply followed them,+ because Stiles claimed that I was going to assist them. "Perfect. Hold 'em up like so. Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison." He glanced at me. "Oh, between, Allison is your bro-...Scott's girlfriend." He turned back to the enraged boy after beaming at me. "Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?"

Stiles let a puff of air come out of his mouth as he was pretty anxious. He grasped my wrist, forcing me to walk next to him. "What are you doing?" I whispered, but he shushed me. He took his keys out, slicing the side of a truck that was parked. "Oh my god, Stiles what the fuck are you doing?" I murmured while clenching my hand over the arm that was softly holding my wrist. But he shushed me again, walking away from the truck while pulling me with him.

"Hey, hey, hey, dude! What do you think you're doing to that truck, bro?" Stiles yelled at Scott, a group of guys spun around, walking towards McCall. Great, they were the owners of the truck.

Scott stood there, and the only thing he thought was to hide his keys behind his back. One of the guys went even closer to him, connecting his fist with Scott's face.

I gasped and hid my head behind Stiles' arm. "Ow! My God. Wow." His hand left my wrist, slipping into my hand and grabbing it. Scott was getting beat and of course, his heart was going even faster. But a couple of seconds later, he was able to control it, and Stiles smiled at me victoriously.

Mr. Harris got Stiles, Scott, and me into detention. This was only my first day, which made me feel like I would get into a lot of trouble with these two. Both of them got sentimental during detention and fixed whatever had happened between their friendship. I stupidly smiled while admiring the loyalty between both.

After detention, Stiles drove Scott to a vet clinic. I got to know that he was working there to get some extra money, and after dropping him off, he dropped me off at the McCall household.

When I went inside, I noticed that everything was quite silent, and went I went to grab something to drink, I saw a little note on the fridge where Melissa was letting us know that she had to work late that night.

"That woman works a lot," I murmured while drinking ice-cold water. I grabbed my backpack, going up the stairs to go to my bedroom, letting it fall on the floor and taking my jacket off. I threw myself on the bed, the exhaustion took over my body. In seconds, I fell asleep.

And again, when I woke up, it seemed like I was going to be in trouble because of the same two boys. They made me go with them to school, at night. Of course, Scott said that I didn't have to go, and I agreed with him for the first time. But Stiles replied that I was new to Beacon Hills, I seemed like a cool girl, and that Scott should give me an opportunity and get to know me.

"What are we doing here?" I interrupted their conversation while getting out of the car.

"Just don't ask," Scott replied without glancing at me. He is so nice. A car pulled over next to us. "Where's my boss?" He asked while a broad guy was getting out of a car.

He was towering us, well-built, and to be honest, he was hot. Beautiful dark hair on top of his head and appealing eyes. "He's in the back."

Stiles and Scott moved to the back of the smoking hot man's car. I followed them while my eyes were still on the strange guy. But when I eventually gazed at the back of the car, I faced a black man with tape over his mouth. "What the fuck is this?" I stared at the three of them. "Sir, oh my god. Are you okay?"

"You will understand later," Stiles answered. 

"I told you we shouldn't have brought her." Scott murmured back at his friend.

"I asked him to bring her." The stranger was studying me. I unconsciously touched my hair, trying to fix it. Was my hair looking good? My dear step-brother looked between the stranger, whose name seemed to be Derek, and me. "She needs to be here." He replied without giving more knowledge. We were all confused.

I walked with both boys into the school.

"Okay, one question. What are you gonna do if the Alpha doesn't show up?" Stiles asked. I peered at him utterly confused, and he waved it off like 'you aren't going to understand anyway. At least not right now.'

"I don't know."

"And what are you gonna do if he does show up?"

"I don't know."

"Good plan." He sneeringly answered.

They started talking about howls, wolves, and packs. Was this some type of game? Like D&D?

Scott breathed profoundly as he got closer to the microphone. Stiles and I almost fell to the floor when Scott tried to howl at the microphone. "Oh my god, we should have recorded that." I clutched onto Stiles, he was wiping the tears that were running down his cheeks from laughing so much.

Scott glared at us, but we could see the redness on his cheeks. "Stop laughing! Well, what did it sound like to you?"

"Like a cat being choked to death, Scott." He was able to speak while still laughing. Scott pouted a little, and for the first time, I felt sorry for laughing at him. "Hey, hey. Listen to me. You're calling the Alpha. All right? Be a man. Be a werewolf, not a teen wolf. Be a werewolf. Do it." He massaged Scott's shoulders.

A teen wolf? This must be some type of game, for sure. Scott howled. This time he didn't sound like a cat dying. He sounded like a wolf, and my mind tried to comprehend what the fuck was going on.

When we went outside, Derek was pretty mad. "I'm gonna kill both of you. What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?" He pointed at Scott. At least, he didn't want to kill me. He looked like he could break your neck with his own hands.

"Sorry. I didn't know it would be that loud." He seemed satisfied with what he had done. Was this part of a stupid prank or something? "Yeah, it was loud." Stiles nodded, and then his voice was high-pitched. "And it was AWESOME!"

"Shut up!" He took a step closer to Stiles, and for some reason, I put my hand out and shoved Stiles behind me. I could feel him looking at me from behind. I avoided his gaze.

"Don't be such a sour wolf."

"Okay." I decided to talk. "Can someone tell me what is going on? Is this some type of game? Like...I don't know. A roleplay or something?"

Scott rolled his eyes, pointing at the car. "What'd you do with him?"

"What? I didn't do anything." He turned around to look at the direction of his car. The door was open, and Scott's boss wasn't there anymore. Was he also part of this crazy game?

Then, Derek started to spit blood, he was elevated in the air by something. When I focused my gaze I saw a big beast. Okay, this wasn't a hoax anymore, right?

"W-what?" Both boys grabbed my hands and started running inside the school. They told me to step back while they held the doors closed. Stiles told me to sit on the floor so whatever THAT was wouldn't see me in the window. "What is going on?" I whispered. Searching for an answer in a pair of hazel eyes. "What the fuck is going on?"

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99​ - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos​ - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67​ - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog​ - @itskindyl​ - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana​ - @multifandxm353​​ -

People in black means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (46/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

A/N: So, here it is! Officially onto the final half of the season! Only four more parts after this one. Which is just absolutely.... crazy.

Anyways, the next few parts will be a bit different then normal but I think it’s worth it and a lot of you seemed to like the idea of it as well. So, hopefully you all enjoy it!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 06x11 & 06x12

“It’s amazing! It’s just... It’s amazing...”

Smiling softly, you duck your head down as you slowly push open the doors to the hospital, pulling your keys out of your bag for your car. “I’m glad, Stiles,” you whisper softly, “it does all sound really... amazing.”

He chuckles, and you can imagine the amount of boxes piled around him in his dorm that’s he’s refused to put away yet because that’s just the way he is. You can imagine the only thing he’s probably really unpacked is a bed to sleep on, and clothes for school. And you can imagine what it’ll be like when you get there next week, and how good it’ll be able to be in his arms again.

Because it’s been too long.

Slipping into your car, you set down your bag in the seat next to you with a huff, blowing that hair that had fallen into your face out. You shuffle in your seat, happy to be in your warm car despite how hot it had been all day, it had really cooled off in the evening. 

“I can’t wait for you to see it all.”

“Me too,” you smile softly, glancing down at your lap as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “But mainly I can’t wait to see you.”

“Just a week more,” Stiles reminds, voice gentle. “You think you can handle that?”

You snort, “I’ve handled the past three months haven’t I?” You quirk a brow challengingly, pushing your key into the ignition and turning it so your car is on. You wince when you realize how late it is. Mom was right when she said you were taking on far too much, it was already past ten’o’clock and you’d been here since eleven in the morning. 

“Besides, i’m sure it’s you whose struggling without me,” you add after a moment, “have you even unpacked anything besides your bed-sheets?”

“I unpacked some... clothes for class.”

“The one you needed my help buying may I remind.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles relents with a snort. “I’ll admit, you’re better at keeping me in check then I am myself. But, to be fair, I’ve been too excited to care really otherwise.”

You nod, humming softly. “I’m really happy for you, Stiles. Truly.”

Stiles doesn’t really respond, he hums softly in return and doesn’t even really need to say anything for you to know he’s smiling brightly at your words. While the past few months have been difficult being apart, you called whenever you could. And Stiles was busy adjusting and getting used to the new environment to notice too much, and you’d taken on more shifts where you could at the hospital and even a little at the school towards the end of summer to help distract yourself.

Something told you Stiles was doing a lot better then you were being miles apart.

Inhaling deeply, you shoulders fall. “Well, I really should head home. It’s late and...”

“Oh, yeah... yeah, of course.”

Biting your lip, you swallow thickly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stiles says with ease, no hesitation. “And i’ll see you in a week.”

You smile at his words, but can’t fight the forbidding feeling welling in your stomach. You can’t rightly explain it, but while you were excited, more than, to see Stiles in a week; it just felt as if something was going to go wrong.

“I’ll see you in a week.”

You press end, pulling your phone from your ear and letting it fall on the seat next to you. You hesitate a moment before shifting your car into drive, gripping the steering wheel tightly in your hands as you let your forehead fall against it.

“Just a week,” you whisper to yourself. “One more week.”

-

“Oh, Liam.”

Slowing at the bottom of steps, Liam blinks at the sight of you. “Hey Y/N,” he pauses, frowning slightly, “You’re home... late.”

“Yeah,” you shrug, gesturing to your bag. “Hospital needed help with some things.”

Liam nods, stepping forward as you slip your shoes off, letting your bag drop to the floor. Silence echoes for a moment, before your mind clicks with realization of something. “Hey, you excited for senior year?”

Liam blinks, “kinda,” he shrugs, “gonna be weird without you guys here.”

You let out a lightly chuckle. “I can imagine. But,” and then you smile, brightly and warmly, meeting Liam’s gaze without hesitance. “I’m sure it’ll all work out. And hey! If you ever need help with school or something, i’m only a phone call away.”

Chuckling lightly, Liam smiles at you as you walk up the steps. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem,” you nod, “Scott upstairs?”

“Yeah, he’s... he’s packing.”

“Ah, okay. Well, see you later?”

“Yeah, see you later.”

He moves to pull on his shoes and you send him one last wave with a bright smile, before turning to walk up the steps. The walk to Scott’s room is a short one, and the doors already open when you get there. You smile as you notice him trying to close a completely too full suitcase that looks as if it’s about to burst at the seams and even his werewolf strength isn’t enough to keep it shut.

“I think you need a bigger suitcase.”

Pulling to a stand, Scott glances back at you with a blink of surprise before glancing back down at the suitcase. “Yeah,” he mumbles, scratching at the back of his head. “I think you may be right.”

“Here,” you say gently, stepping into his room with ease and gesturing to the suitcase. “You push, i’ll zip.”

Scott frowns, shaking his head. “Liam and I already--”

“Just,” you cut in, turning to him as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Trust me?”

Meeting your eyes, Scott hesitates a moment before letting out a soft laugh. Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he nods, “okay,” he eases, stepping forward and grabbing the lid of his suitcase, pulling it down and pushing it shut. You act quick, grabbing the zipper and pulling. You manage to maneuver it all the way around until it’s completely zipped and shut.

Leaning back, you smile; “there, done.”

Scott falls back against his bed with a huff of relief, hands sprawling up above him as he cheers teasingly. You laugh lightly at the sight, quirking a brow down at him as he simply just glances back up at you. “I was sure I was never going to get that suitcase shut,” he breathes.

Snorting, you kick his leg lightly so he’ll move it, allowing you room to sit down. You do so with a light sigh, shoulders somewhat slumped as you glance around Scott’s room and how, even though not everything’s gone, it seems and feels so... barren.

Scott isn’t oblivious to your reaction either.

“Hey,” he calls softly, pushing himself up to his elbow. “You start packing yet?”

You shrug; “a little. Been too busy to.”

Sitting up completely next to you, Scott’s shoulder softly bumps into your own. “You’re not excited to go to Washington?”

“Of course i’m excited to go to Washington,” you say quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, turning to look at Scott. You sigh when you notice the look on his face, it pretty clear he sees completely through your forced lie. He’s knows you too well not to. “I am,” you reassurance, “it’s just... everything’s changing so quickly, you know? Malia’s leaving for Paris, Lydia got accepted into MIT, Stiles is training to be a freaking FBI agent, you’re going to be Vet Technician... and I still don’t even know what I want to do.”

“Y/N...”

Swallowing thickly, you glance down at your lap. “It just feels like everyone else is so organized. I mean, I’m excited to go to Washington and be with Stiles, God knows I am... but, i’m not going there for myself. I can’t remember the last time i’ve done something for myself.”

Scott’s hand falls over your own; “is there any colleges or universities there that interest you?”

You want to say yes. But part of you wants to say no too. Because you’ve looked. You’ve looked so incredibly hard but nothing seemed to feel right for you. And all you can really manage to say to Scott is a simple and somewhat lost; “I don’t know.”

Frowning, Scott swallows thickly. “I can hold off a week? I’m sure it’d be okay. Wait until--”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in before Scott even has the chance to say anything more. “Scott, no,” you whisper, squeezing his hand in your own. “I won’t hold back your life just because I don’t know what i’m doing with mine. You should go and you should be happy. I’ll... I’ll be okay. I’ll figure it out.”

Swallowing slowly, Scott nods, hesitant. “If you’re sure...”

“I am,” you smile, “of course, I am.”

-

“Oh, my gosh. You two brought me dinner? That’s really nice--”

“No,” Mason cuts in, “it’s not dinner.”

Turning at the sound of Mason’s voice, your brows furrow in confusion at the sight him and Liam. Your eyes flicker down the bagged container in Mason’s hands, understanding why your mother would assume it’s food. But, obviously, it’s not and that’s what catches your attention, picking up the speed in your step as you move towards them.

“It’s not dinner?”

You reach them just as Melissa glances into the bag, pulling it open enough that you manage a peek at it too. Your lips curve into an expression of disgust at the sight of it, pulling back similarly to how your mother does. “It’s definitely not dinner.”

Liam steps forward, meeting your eyes briefly before glancing over at Melissa. “We were hoping you could take a look at it for us.”

“Well,” Melissa smiles sweetly, “I was hoping that someone was going to bring me dinner. Now is not the time for a rat autopsy. So, take this and get yourselves out of here.”

“No, but we really--”

Melissa chuckles lightly, mockingly, pointing her finger at them; “no, out.”

Liam and Mason visibly slump in defeat, and with a light laugh, you turn to your mother. “Here,” you offer gently. “Dinner.”

Her eyes visibly brighten. “You’re a saviour,” leaning forward, she presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “Are you volunteering tonight?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but, I might go do a rat autopsy.”

Rolling her eyes, Melissa nods, pointing a finger at the two younger boys. “Keep them out of trouble.”

“Always!”

Picking up the speed in your step, you rush to catch up with Liam and Mason. “Boys, wait up!” They recognize your voice, slowing to a step with ease as you side-step nearly being hit and race around to get to them. They blink at you in surprise when you reach them, shaking their heads in confusion as you simply just blink up at them.

“So, what’s going on with the rat?”

It’s their turn to blink, dumbfounded, as they glance at one another before Mason lowers his gaze to the bag in his hands. “Um...--”

“--You started it. Back off!”

Gasping out in surprise, your eyes widen when you notice a man shoving another man back, both injured but clearly not really caring as they aggressively assault one another and spit words of insult towards each other. Your lips frown at the sight, not used to seeing such an act in the hospital of all places; and you’ve been spending a lot of your time here recently.

“Hey, now, that’s called assault!”

“Can I get security over here?” Melissa calls aloud, keeping her distance from the men.

Liam steps forward before you can stop him, moving to step in between the two men. He turns to the man who’d pushed the other, calling out as gently as he can; “sir, you need to calm down.”

But he’s interrupted by a sharp punch to the nose.

“Liam!”

He finds his feet quickly and your eyes widen when you notice the glow to his eyes and the fangs protruding from his mouth. One glance around and you know a lot more than just you and Mason have noticed it; including the man who’d punched him. “What the... What...”

The security guards arrive then, rushing to grab the two men who’d started the fight in the first place and therefore surrounding Liam. Your eyes widen when you notice the deep cuts he’s caused in his palms from trying to hide his claws. “Liam,” you call out, hoping he can hear you. You try to make your way over to him, but get blocked along the way, and you can tell Mason is trying to do same.

And in the midst of the chaos, you manage to lose him.

-

“You two cannot do that!”

Pausing, both Mason and Liam spin to face you as you slam your car door shut behind you. Their eyes widen when they notice how angry you are, taking a small shuffle back as you rush forward, crossing your arms over your chest with a deep-set frown. 

For a moment silence echoes.

You quirk a brow, as if waiting for them to speak, expecting a explanation; they glance at each other and then back to you.

“You ran off!” 

“Oh,” Mason mumbles, “we thought it was--”

“Fine?” You cut in sharply, shaking your head at them. “Are you kidding me?” Whirling round to set your attention on Liam, you narrow your eyes at him. “You lost control in the hospital, Liam! People saw! You’re not even the least bit concerned?”

Shrugging, Liam blinks, “people have seen far worst in Beacon Hills.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it isn’t,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Stepping towards the two boys, you press a finger against Liam’s chest. “The point is it was you they saw. You. And I know Scott would agree with me.”

You hit a pressure point mentioning his alpha, you know. But you need him to understand, especially if you all weren’t going to be around soon to watch them.

“Look,” Liam sighs, “i’m sorry. I’m working on it, okay?”

“He really is,” Mason nods, hopeful that you’re a little less angry.

Letting out a sigh, your hand drops to your side. Taking a step forward, you wrap your arms around the both of them, pulling them close. It’s a bit awkward given that they’re a tad bit taller then you and you know they weren’t expecting you to just full on embrace them. But, you don’t relent your grip, squeezing them tightly.

Liam and Mason hesitant a moment, surprised.

“I just worry about you both,” you whisper, “that’s all.”

Setting his arm around your waist, Liam squeezes gently, as Mason pats your shoulder lightly.

“We know,” Liam whispers, “we’re sorry.”

“We really are.”

Pulling back, you shake your head at them, “I’m being silly. Sorry,” taking a step back, you move towards your car. “Go... study or whatever you were going to do,” then you pause, pointing a finger at them, “but you should study. Studying is good.”

Liam and Mason chuckle, nodding at you and waving as they turn and make their way into the school. You pause by your car, watching them until they’re both completely inside and out of eyesight. And then you let your eyes wander across the school, one of which you spent so much of your life in and now, was no longer even apart of it. 

It’s funny how fast things change. How it can happen with a single blink of the eye and then, everything’s just different.

Everyone was leaving, moving on with their lives. And you found yourself stuck, loss, unsure. Were you just going to Washington for Stiles? Or did you really hope to find something there for yourself? You wanted to be with Stiles, to see him, of course you did. But... you also had to find out what you wanted to do with your life, not just watch other people move on with their own.

Letting out a sigh, you move to stand up, moving towards your car door, however the sound of growling catches your attention. It’s faint, but loud enough that you can even hear it. And your head turns in the direction of the school when you realize it’s coming from there. And, it’s a lot of growling, faint banging, your first thought being Mason and Liam.

You shut your car door, rushing to the school doors and following the direction of where the growling is coming from best you can. It takes you a while, but eventually you manage to pinpoint the source, eyes widening when you turn down the hallway only to find Mason being knocked back and slammed into a set of lockers.

His name leaves your lips in a cry of worry, catching the attention of both Liam and a... Hellhound? as you come rushing in. You don’t notice it, too worried about reaching Mason, but something about you seems to catch the attention of the Hellhound and it turns it’s focus away from Liam and onto you, rushing towards you. 

“Y/N!”

It’s Liam and you blink when you feel an arm slam against you, pushing you up against the lockers directly next to Mason’s limp body. A cry of surprise leaves your lips as his arm moves to your neck, pinning you back and blocking off your airway as you struggle to breathe. It takes you a moment to catch yourself, eyes widening in confusion when the man you don’t recognize leans close, as if feeling for something.

“No,” he growls, “it’s not you either.”

You just huff, eyes flashing purple as you force him back, releasing your neck so you can breathe. The minute he’s off of you, you inhale sharply, catching your breath as you swipe your hand out before yourself, holding the man in place. Flames won’t work on him for obvious reasons, but you can hold him in place for Liam.

“Y/N,” Liam calls, slamming a locker door against the Hellhounds head, “Mason!”

Once you’re sure he’s got the man, you move towards Mason, crouching next to him and gently guiding him up into your lap. Your hands fall to his cheeks, making sure his pulse is still there and scanning for any worrying injuries. Other then a knock to the head, he seems okay.

A groan from Liam catches your attention, and your eyes widen when the Hellhound slices his stomach with it’s claws, creating a deep cut. But, before you can even move to help Liam, he’s recuperated enough to knock the man back, cutting him like he had him, before knocking him back to the lockers right beside you. The fire around his body fades and he slumps to the floor with a groan.

Liam’s does the same, breath trembling.

Your brows furrow in confusion when the man simply just laughs, head tilting back. “It won’t stay hidden,” he mumbles, voice low. “It must be stopped. Nothing else matters.”

You blink when you feel Mason shift in your grasp, Lowering your gaze, your eyes widen in relief when his eyes flicker open, moving to sit up. He glances up at you in confusion, eyes flickering around before landing on Liam and with a simple nod, you follow his lead, helping guide him up to his feet as the both of you rush over to Liam.

“...The truth...”

Mason slumps next to Liam, the both of them glancing at each other, before you.

Your head turns towards where the Hellhound had been, sighing when you notice it gone, leaving out a trail of blood along the lockers.

-

Helping Liam pull off his tattered and ripped shirt, you wince at the cuts along his lower stomach and chest. They’re bad, very bad, and they’re not healing quickly either; not as quickly as any of you would like.

“It should be healing faster than this.”

Glancing over at Mason, you catch the look in his eyes, pushing yourself up to your feet. “I’ll find something to wash the blood off.”

You move towards the bathroom portion of the locker room, grabbing some paper towel and moving to wet them as you listen in on Liam and Mason’s conversation.

“It’s Hellfire,” Mason reminds, “I mean, all things considered, you’re doing great.”

“Well, great isn’t supposed to look like this.”

“You fought a Hellhound on your own, without Scott.” 

“Y/N was there.”

Walking back over to the two boys, you crouch before Liam. “I didn’t really do any fighting,” you remind softly, moving to dab lightly over the wound. Liam winces as you go, but doesn’t fight you. Instead, the two boys keep their gazes on you as you clean his wound and continue. “And without you there, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Liam just shakes his head, leaning back.

Turning to Mason, you nod reassuringly as he shifts forward. “Wounds heal,” he breathes, “people move. Things change.”

“Yeah,” Liam mumbles, “still hurts though.”

Frowning, you pull back, dropping the blood soaked paper towel next to Liam on the bench. “It’s the best I can do,” you whisper after a moment, nodding at Liam before pushing back to stand up. Letting your hand fall on Liam’s shoulder gently, you squeeze it softly. “I should probably call Scott.”

-

“In case anyone forgot...”

Malia lets out a chuckle and you shake your head.

“Yeah I just said forgot,” Lydia calls, before turning to face the three of you. “We almost lost him last time.”

Scott nods, and you lower your gaze, not sure how to respond. Luckily, Malia does for you. “If this turns out to be something big, and we don’t call him...”

“He would kill us,” Scott finishes for her.

“Or maybe we should go back to the woods tonight and find the killer.”

“Scott? Y/N?”

You blink when they all turn to you. Inhaling deeply, you shake your head. “You guys didn’t hear his voice,” you explain, voice soft, a mere whisper. “He sounded really excited to be there.”

Lydia frowns.

“Y/N’s right,” Scott nods, “in his voicemail... I swear, I've never heard him sound so happy.”

An echo of silences follows for a minute.

“Uh,” Malia calls, stammering over her words. “Just play the voicemail.”

Nodding with ease, Scott moves to press play.

“Hey, Scott. So... I’m here. I’m in Quantico, Virginia, at the FBI. I’m at the freaking FBI. It’s real. I’m really here.” Lowering your gaze, you bite your lip, unable to stop the small smile the curls onto your lips at Stiles’ voice. “I told Y/N that I miss her and I can’t wait for her to get here. But just in case, remind her for me because I really am.” Eyes falling shut, you feel your heart plummet.

I’m not gonna make it there. Not yet, at least.

“Listen, Scott, whatever you’re doing right now, just make sure you’re still getting out of Beacon Hills. I mean, maybe you think you can’t leave, you know, like, the whole thing falls apart if you’re not there. Which I get, but you have to. I know you’re supposed to drive out tonight, so if you don’t call me back, just promise me you’re actually going. Just get in the jeep and go.”

Silence echoes as the voicemail ends, and you let out a sigh.

“I’m going to have to make up a lie, aren’t I?”

-

You sigh as the first ring echoes.

Your leg bounces in front of you, repeatedly, anxious as you listen to the second ring. Part of you hopes he won’t answer, and another part of you hopes Stiles will; that way you can just tell him and get it over with. Because you had absolutely no idea how you were going to tell him. Like... at all.

You couldn’t tell him the truth, that was clear.

But what could you say instead?

“Hey.”

Inhaling sharply, your eyes flicker shut as you tuck your chin into your chest, heart starting to pound. You’re too busy trying to come up with a viable excuse that you barely even register the slight peek in Stiles’ own voice, and you can’t see urgency at which he pounces his own leg. Up, down. Up, down. Up. 

Down.

“Hey, Stiles,” you smile softly just at the mention of his name, envisioning him in your mind and thinking about how badly you want to see him. And now, you don’t know when you will. “How was your day?”

“Good, good,” Stiles nods, “how was yours?”

“Long.”

Stiles hums. You find it odd he doesn’t want to talk more about his first day. Makes you wonder if something’s wrong, but, by right you can’t really question him on it because you’re being just as odd and suspicious as him.

“Everything okay?”

Licking your lips, you lean forward. “I won’t be able to make it next week.”

There’s a pause, then, “like... to Wash--”

“To you,” you conclude with a nod even though you know he can’t see it. “Some stuff with my mom has come up, and she needs me unfortunately.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind; you make a mental note of telling Scott so he’ll back you up in-case Stiles questions him. “I don’t think i’ll be able to make it there for another week, um, maybe longer. I don’t know.”

“Is...” And Stiles hesitates at this, as if the words caught in the back of his throat. “Is everything okay? Is Melissa hurt or--”

“She’s fine, it’ll just be easier to explain in person if I see you soon. When I see you soon, you know?” Letting out a soft sigh, you swallow thickly. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I really am. And I promise i’ll be there as soon as I possibly can and explain it all, but... right now...--”

“You need to be there?”

“...I need to be here.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and you can tell he’s disappointed. But he doesn’t fight you or question you any further. “Okay, I understand.”

Smiling with hurt, your hand moves to grip the necklace he’d given you at the end of summer, holding it tightly between your fingers. “I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

With a final goodbye, you hang up the call, slumping back against your bed with a sigh. You stare up at your ceiling with a deep frown marring your lips, not bothering to move even when you hear your bedroom door slide open, knowing without even having to look that it’s Scott.

“I’m officially the worst girlfriend ever.”

Letting out a light chuckle, Scott takes a seat next to you on your bed, glancing down at you. “You’re helping him by not telling him,” Scott assures you, setting his hand over your thigh in a sign of what he hopes is comfort. “He sounded really excited, didn’t he?”

Sitting up, you smile at Scott, nodding. “He did.”

-

Y/N....

“This is dumb, Y/N. What are you doing...”

You glance around at the trees and grass surrounding you, your flashlight truthfully not doing much to light up anything. Mind you, going to Beacon Hill’s very own forest in the middle of the night probably wasn’t the smartest idea either.

You had no idea where you were going. Or what you were doing for that matter either. You should’ve gotten Scott to come with you, or Malia. Hell, you could have even dragged Liam out of bed. You knew you were capable of handling yourself, but with a new threat that none of you really understood or really knew what it was, it probably wasn’t smart to be lost in the woods in the middle of the night, alone.

It was, in fact, dumb. Incredibly so.

But you’d heard his voice.

Y/N...

And you still could.

Theo. You haven’t heard him call out for you like that, telepathically or whatever, since he’d first been sent to hell. And he certainly wasn’t in hell anymore since Liam had sent him free and Scott had deciphered him no longer a threat. And you couldn’t understand why or really even how he was calling out for you. Nor could you understood why you’re so willingly searching for him.

When in reality you should be running the other way.

Running away from Theo.

Why your feet even lead you in the woods in the first place, you’ll never understand.

“You could get hurt,” you continue to ramble to yourself, trailing further down your imaginary path. “You could die. And what? For Theo...” Then, hesitating, you sigh. “Regrettably yeah, for Theo...”

Stupid. He doesn’t deserve that from you. Not after what he’d done.

And yet, you still continue to walk.

You wander aimlessly for at least another twenty minutes, finding nothing. Absolutely shit all. And you were tired, incredibly so, and you knew it was going to take you a while to even find your way back to your car, so, with that, you decide it’s time to turn around. 

Screw Theo. What had he done for you other then break your heart.

Just as you do, however, a tree branch cracks.

You halt in your steps, shoulders freezing as you slowly glance around, keeping your flashlight steady before you. You may be a witch, but your eyesight was still human and like before, you can’t see anything with your stupid phone flashlight. 

Another branch cracks. And then another, from two completely different directions.

“Hello?” You call out hesitantly, unsure. You take a small shuffle forward, searching, body tense with anticipation. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

It happens in a flash. A cry leaves your lips as an arrow pierces your left shoulder, digging into the skin painfully, knocking you back completely off your feet. Your body thuds against the ground, and your eyes twist shut for a moment as your right hands move to the arrow, hissing the second you touch it as pain envelops your entire body.

But the pain suddenly becomes less important when you hear approaching footsteps. A lot of them.

Shuffling back, you move against the tree behind you, pressing up against it with heavy, pounding breaths. You feel your heart pound erratically against your chest and now you’re sure you should’ve brought someone along because you have no idea what you’re going to do.

Your powers. You’re a witch.

A man approaches, crossbow in hand and you waste no time, despite the wave of pain that hits you, flashing your eyes at him and tilting your head just enough with a swipe of your hand to knock the man flying back, into a tree to your right. You effectively knock the man out, but footsteps continue to echo and follow. You do your best to keep up, eyes never fading from the purple hue until you feel your body and mind screaming at you in exhaustion.

You’re putting up a fight, but you don’t know if it’ll be enough.

Especially with how many there are. 

Because suddenly it’s no longer just two people running at you, it’s a whole group, surrounding. All their flashlights, which are a hell of a lot brighter then your stupid phone one, are flashing directly in your eyes, blinding you. it feels like staring directly into the sun and your eyes twist shut as you try to look away, but everywhere you look, there’s a bright light.

You still fight, best you can, heart racing in fear and worry, trying desperately to fight them off. But there’s too many. They surround your entire being, and with an arrow piercing your shoulder which aches painfully, you find yourself at a lost; more than that, terrified. There’s too many of them to fight off, especially when you can’t see anything but the shadowed figure of their feet in front of you because of their flashlights.

And if you can’t see, you can’t attack. You can’t even move your left arm.

Feeling vulnerable and terrified, your press your back further up against the tree behind you, letting out a groan of pain. “Please,” you whisper, voice echoing. “Please don’t--”

“Y/N McCall.”

You freeze at the familiarity of the voice.

He emerges from the crowd, and even though he stays hidden behind the blinding lights, you know it’s him. You couldn’t forget that voice, especially after all the turmoil he’d caused what felt like so long ago.

“Gerard...”

“Glad to see you remember me,” he laughs, stepping forward. You growl as he reveals himself to you, not allowing him to say another thing before your eyes flash, using the little bit of strength in your body you have left to swipe your right hand before you and knock him back. 

It causes an uproar. The blinding lights get closer until all you see is white, and then a blood-curling scream leaves your lips as the arrow is all but ripped out of your shoulder. You instantly curl into yourself, crying out in agony as hands grab at you. You fight them mercilessly, trying to break free from the many hands grabbing and pulling at you. But it’s useless.

There’s too many of them.

Weakened by your injury, no amount of struggling stops the people around you from tying your hands behind your back with a zip-tie that cuts painfully into your skin. A blindfold is placed over your eyes and you’re suddenly reminded of the fear and terror you’d felt when you’d been stabbed. You’d practice using your magic without sight but it was never a skill you’d mastered, and it certainly didn’t help that the pain was making your eyes feel heavy.

Nor did the group of people surrounding you help either.

With a last fight for survival, your eyes glow beneath the mask as your body begins to heat up. You can’t by right set yourself on fire, you won’t survive it, but if you push your magic to surround you almost as if in a barrier, it’ll be too hot for any of them touch and grab you like they are now.

You’re proven correct when a chorus of gasps echo and you’re body falls against the floor with a harsh thud. You groan as you fall right on your left shoulder, bringing your knees up to curl in yourself, you’re last attempt at protecting yourself.

“Ow, fuck!”

“She’s burning hot!”

“My hands!”

“You bitch!”

“Are you fools?” Gerard’s voice booms and you freeze at the sound of it.

“But-But she’s--!”

“Knock her out,” he says without fault, “we don’t need her awake right now.”

Your eyes widen at his words. Your feet start kicking beneath you and you struggle in your binds uselessly, the dull pinching from the zip-tie barely a bother as the thought of being knocked out and taken somewhere unconsciously more threatening and terrifying.

“No! No, wait! Please, don’t--!”

Your world fades to black as a harsh smack is delivered to your head.

-

Scott awakes with a gasp.

He’s sweating, profusely. Though, it isn’t the first thing he notices. He notices his racing heart, his panting breath and the pounding thoughts of terror that surround his mind that he can’t make sense of.

And then, it hits him.

Y/N.

You’re.... You’re in pain. His shoulder aches, a dull pain that stings as if he’s been stabbed with something but his skin is free of any scratches, cuts or even bruises. Because it’s you that’s hurt. 

But-But how? He’d... He’d just seen you...

You’re scared. Terrified. He can feel every racing thought that surrounds your head, but can’t actually hear them. Your fear mixes with his own and he jumps to his feet, grabbing the nearest shirt he can find and pulling it onto his body, running out of his room. He checks your room, but you’re not there. He runs down to the kitchen and you’re not there either.

When he checks outside, your cars gone too.

“Scott? Scott, what’s the matter?”

Turning back into the house, Scott’s wide, panicked eyes fall on his mothers own worried and concerned ones. Breathless and shaky, Scott shakes his head.

“Y/N... Y/N’s missing.”

-

Part 47?

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[doyelikehaggis]

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Scanny | Scott McCall x Danny Mahealani (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @childofsquidward

The collie laying on the table is patient and docile as Scott finishes slotting the cone into place around her neck. She just stares up at him with big eyes, nudging against his hand with her nose.

Laughing, Scott rubs her head. Her tail gives a little wiggle in response.

"You know, you're the only one I've seen who isn't bothered by this thing," he tells her, scratching behind her ear. 

She just gives a playful yip in response. 

The bell rings over the front door, alerting Scott to someone entering the animal clinic. Somewhat pointless considering he heard the heartbeat first. But Lola's ears immediately perk up, and her tail bangs against the table.

Scott grins at Danny when he appears in the doorway, holding two festive coffee cups.

"You've been missed," he says.

Lola's already standing on the table, barking fondly at Danny. He laughs, and moves towards her, fuelling her excitement.

"By which one of you?" Danny jokes.

Scott's eyes widen. He opens his mouth, but he falters, and Danny's already focused on Lola again anyway. Heat rushes to his face. He quickly tries to regain some composure. 

"Hey, girl! Oh, you look so good!" Danny coos. "Did Dr. McCall take good care of you?"

Scott tries to bite back a smile and fails. He's getting used to hearing his friends call him Dr. McCall, more as a joke, but something about the way Danny says it gives him this fluttering in his chest.

So, when he first saw him at the start of December, it was a surprise. He'd practically disappeared off the face of the earth for two years, and then suddenly he was back in town for the holidays, to see his family and friends. 

But not only that, Scott hadn't quite realized just how attractive Danny is. Was he always that good-looking while they were at school together? Of course he was, everyone knew it. But Scott hadn't exactly been out to himself at that point, so seeing Danny back from New Orleans, even more tanned, with even more defined muscles—yeah, Scott might get a little nervous whenever he sees him now.

And it doesn't help that they seem to be seeing more of each other now than they did while at school. They run into each other in town. When Scott went back to fill in for Coach while he was away towards the end of the year, Danny just kept showing up, saying he was visiting a teacher to discuss something (he is, after all, in computer programming now, so it makes some semblance of sense), and they'd talk out on the field. He bmped into him while bringing his mom lunch at the hospital. 

Scott even saw him while out with Lydia two weeks ago. He was catching up with Jackson, who was also back in town for the holidays, like everyone else. 

And now at work, too. The universe seems to be playing some joke on him. He doesn't mind all that much, for once. As long as this isn't going to lead to him finding out that Danny's actually been turned into a vampire, or has been possessed by some new, evil spirit.

"Thank you," Danny says, lifting his eyes to Scott. Of course, Scott's still the one looking up at him, because it would appear Danny has had another growth spurt as well as everything else. 

Scott realizes he isn't answering. Just gazing. He grins, and hastily tries to not be totally obvious.

"Just doing my job," he says with a shrug. 

Danny rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but I know for a fact that this clinic should have been shut for the rest of the holidays. So, thank you for seeing her anyway."

Scott hesitates at that. "Well… you're a friend. And I had to come in today anyway. And—" he looks down at Lola, who's settled back down on the table, and gives her head another rub "—I couldn't just leave this one stranded on Christmas Eve."

"We both thank you, then." Danny then holds out one of the coffee cups. "A gesture to prove it."

"God, thank you," Scott says, gratefully accepting the cup and taking a drink. "I haven't had anything all day. Or since last night. Including sleep. I might be running on three Mountain Dews and a kitkat."

Danny raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "That… can't be good for you."

Scott just shrugs again. He'll probably feel the effects later on today, since it's currently only one-thirty in the afternoon. As long as he makes it to four to head to the station to see Stiles, then he can head back home and have a nap. And maybe food.

"I didn't know the life of a vet was so demanding."

"It's the holidays," Scott explains, taking another drink before continuing. The gingerbread-cinnamon-whatever is in this latte is the best thing he's ever had right now. "Lots of people want their pets better before Christmas and New Year. A lot of strays get found with bad injuries. Currently I have—"

Barking starts up from the dog room in the back. Scott smiles, gesturing towards the door as Lola once again perks up.

"—them. Eight labrador puppies. They're under a year old. Deaton and I were trying to get them rehomed before the holidays, but it didn't work out. That's why I was coming in to work anyway, since Deaton's out of town."

"Never mind, your job is clearly far more demanding than I thought." Danny smiles, glances down at Lola, then pauses. "Do you need a hand with them at all? They sound pretty eager for attention."

"Yeah, I was gonna take them out for a walk once I was finished up here," Scott says.

Danny's grin widens. "You planned to walk eight hyperactive labrador puppies by yourself? In the snow?"

Scott just gives another shrug. "They're not too hard to handle once they're outside."

The look Danny is giving him only intensifies the fluttery feeling in his chest. It's like something's tickling him from the inside. He can feel the heat beneath his skin, in his cheeks.

"Guess that whole Alpha thing really does give you an advantage, huh," Danny says, a certain teasing twinkle in his eyes but his grin sincere.

Scott has barely gotten used to the idea of Danny knowing about the supernatural at all, never mind him making casual comments about it. And especially not while he's looking at him like that.

"I don't know if it's anything to do with that," Scott says, shaking his head. "But… sometimes, yeah. It comes in handy."

Danny nods. The puppies are still barking in the back, trying to get Scott's attention.

"Well, I think Lola could use a walk after being so good about this," Danny says. He looks at Scott, smiling. "Mind if we join you? I can be pretty good with dogs, might help to take a couple off your hands for an hour."

Scott's eyebrows raise in surprise, and his heartbeat raises itself as well. 

"You… but—" he frowns, his head tilting with a confused smile "—it's Christmas Eve. Don't you wanna get back to your family?"

"They won't miss me for a little while," Danny says, brushing it off. Then, because he seems to be catching on, he rolls his eyes, and says, "Please? You helped me with Lola when you clearly already had your hands full. I wanna do more than get you coffee."

Scott's heart drops into his stomach and lurches right back up. He swallows, and tries to keep his mind on one track, biting his lip. 

"Uh… yeah," he breathes out before he can think twice. "You know what? That would be great. Thank you."

"No problem," Danny says, sincerely.

They get Lola to hop off the table, and head into the back room to get the others ready. Danny just laughs when he sees the little christmas hats Scott put on the ones that were happy to wear them.

As they're getting them all on their leashes, Danny casually adds, with a glance at Scott, "And if you were up for it, I'd like to get coffee with you sometime."

Scott accidentally clips the leash to his hand instead of the collar. He winces, quickly undoing it and fixing it to its right place instead. Then he looks over at Danny and his amused grin, his heart racing.

"Like—like a date?" he asks, hardly daring to believe that's what he means. Danny was never interested in him. Was he? 

Scott's quickly going through every interaction he's ever had with him.

"Exactly a date," Danny corrects. 

Scott's eyes are wide. His mouth opens, then closes. He wasn't prepared for this. Sure, the thought of Danny liking him back crosses his mind after Stiles and Lydia both insisted that he did after he told them about running into him all those times. But that doesn't mean he was prepared for it.

"You can say no," Danny says, giving another casual shrug as clips the last lead on to the last excited puppy. "I just thought I might as well ask. Waiting three years to do it was bad enough, I didn't want to seem totally pathetic by waiting four to at least know what you'd say."

"Three—what?" Scott asks in disbelief, sure that he must have somehow misheard. "You've wanted to ask me out for… three years?" 

"Like I said, it was starting to seem pathetic." Danny looks at him, holding his stare with a soft gaze. "But, Lydia told me that you came out last year, and after seeing you, I figured I should at least ask."

"Wow. Uh…" Scott's mind is a mess, and he can't sort his thoughts out. Except for one. "I'd love to."

Danny blinks, thrown off his own guard now. Apparently even he wasn't prepared. But he quickly recovers, as does Scott, smiles forming across both their faces.

"Go on a date with you, I mean," Scott says, as if it needs further elaboration. 

"Really?" Danny asks. "Uh… today?"

Scott's breath is knocked out of him, but he's already nodding again. "Yeah, absolutely."

He didn't think anything could make the fluttery feeling in his chest worse. Turns out, Danny smiling at him like he is right now is the thing that can. 

"Okay, great," he says. "Then let's get these guys out of here."

Scott happily agrees. They head out of the back door after making sure the front is locked up. It has to be an hour or more that passes as they walk the dogs through town, taking an open path into the woods, through the snow. The whole way, Scott and Danny are talking, and laughing, catching up on the years they missed and in between. 

[the-real-tc]

Fic Update. Bad Business: Chapter 3 Or Worse

Author's Note: Things are about to get bumpy, and I'm sure theories will start flying around, which is all well and good. There are going to be some disturbing events and imagery here and in upcoming chapters, so I'll repeat the "triggering" warning and the "abusive comments will not be tolerated" piece again. Thanks to all the extremely encouraging comments and reviews so far. I'm pleased you're all following along.

***

To the childless wife he gives a home, and gladdens her heart with children.

- Ps. 113

Chapter 3:

Or Worse

***

Hudson Times—Online Version

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Hudson Area Residents On Alert Due to Bear Sightings

Nadir Jutley

Fish and Wildlife officials are responding to reports of a bear in Hudson county. An alert was issued after several ranchers caught sight of the animal over the past week. April is typically when bears emerge from hibernation. Residents of Hudson county are being asked to be extra vigilant, especially around dusk and dawn, when bears are most likely to be active.

If you see the bear, contact Fish and Wildlife at 555-625-1540 immediately. Do not approach, and do not provoke the animal.

• Email: nadir_jutley

***

"Hey, Ty," Amy called softly, "did you see this report about a bear in the area?"

Ty looked up from his reports. "Yeah," he replied. "Scott and I got the alert at the clinic yesterday afternoon."

"Good," Amy said, though she was still pouting, thinking about all the potential areas her country vet husband and his boss could encounter the beast while making their rounds to rural ranch lands. "Be careful out on those calls, okay? You and Scott go to some pretty remote places sometimes..."

Ty smiled in spite of himself. "Now who's being overprotective?"

"Ty," she said, eyeing him sternly, "I'm serious. I—I just don't want anything to happen to you, okay? After Mongolia..."

The last thing Ty wanted at that moment was to rehash falling nearly fatally ill on his first trip to Mongolia, and then being abducted and left for dead the second time—not to mention the near-fatal encounter with one of the poachers on his own home turf.

"Hey, Scott and I are always careful," he said, attempting to reassure her. "He's got his tranquilizer all the time, at the ready. The chances of us encountering that bear are pretty slim. It may even have moved on by now."

"Okay," Amy said, mouth still drawn downwards.

Now who's being overprotective? Ty's gentle rebuke echoed in her mind. She chided herself mentally, knowing her worries were probably unfounded. After all, Ty had not said a word when she departed on Sunday with Georgie to participate in the faux fox hunt event. She had enjoyed every minute of the ride, though she did choose not to vault any of the jumps on the course this time around. If I'm going to ride, I don't have to take unnecessary risks, she reasoned. It would be one line of defense she figured she could bring up if Ty ever did say something negative about her decision to ride during her pregnancy.

***

Five Days Later...

"Val Stanton is missing," Jack announced as he shut the door behind him.

Lisa looked up from her laptop, her brow instantly creasing. "'Missing'? What do you mean missing?"

"The police are out at Briar Ridge now. I saw them there when I was driving back from my supply run. Something in my gut told me there was something really wrong with that picture, so I stopped in to see what was going on. I got to speak with Jesse, and he says Val went out for a ride late this morning and didn't come back when he expected her to. She was supposed to meet some clients with him at 1:00 p.m., and she never showed. It's of course way past that time now."

"Did you say she went out for a ride late this morning? I had Herring trailered over there yesterday so she could try him out," Lisa said, genuine worry replacing her initial curiosity. "I hope she wasn't thrown and is lying injured somewhere—or worse."

"Right now, no one knows, but Jesse did mention she took Herring," Jack said. "Val unfortunately didn't go out with her cell phone, so they can't track her that way. Chief Parker is going to have his officers combing the areas Jesse said she was known to go when she went for a ride."

"Do they need any help? I mean, we could always saddle up and check where her property meets up with Heartland," Lisa suggested, pre-emptively shutting down her laptop. "She can't have gone too far."

"We could take a look," Jack agreed thoughtfully. "But I hate to say it: I have a bad feeling about this, especially with all those bear sightings lately."

Lisa shook her head once as she stood to face him. "Let's not go down that road yet," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "We should ride out and hope for the best. I'll head out to the jumping pen to let Georgie know where we're going."

"I'll tell Amy and Ty when I get the horses saddled."

Upon hearing that Val was missing, Georgie immediately halted her jumping practice and dismounted from Phoenix. She followed Lisa to the stables and asked to come along for the search, but Jack firmly nixed her request.

"No, you stay put," Jack said in a voice that left no room for discussion. "We don't know why she's missing. This could be a very serious situation, and someone needs to stay in the house with Katie right now."

For a moment Georgie felt a surge of indignation, like she was once again the immature child who was always left out of the action. This time, though, she came to the realisation all on her own what Jack was not verbalizing: He suspected Val could very well be hurt or even dead, and did not want Georgie to be on hand to see those suspicions confirmed.

"You're taking your rifle?" Lisa asked, eyeing the weapon uneasily as Jack climbed up into Buddy's saddle.

With a nod, Jack said gruffly: "We don't know what's out there, Lis. It's just a precaution."

"Right. Of course," Lisa said, and nudged Venus to head out, simultaneously double-checking to make sure she had her cell phone in her jacket pocket.

***

Daylight hours faded to the point Jack and Lisa knew it was time to return. Searching in darkness would be futile. Reluctantly, they turned the horses back toward the ranch house, having trekked along the property line separating Heartland from Briar Ridge. During that time they spotted nothing resembling either Val or Herring.

"Did you find anything?" Georgie asked anxiously when they eventually made it into the kitchen after seeing to Buddy and Venus' post-ride needs.

"Nothing," Jack said wearily.

"It's definitely a concerning situation," Lisa added. "Herring is a—a very well-behaved, steady horse. And Val is an experienced rider. But I can't help thinking that she could be lying out there somewhere with a broken leg or—"

"If that's the case, someone will find her," Jack interrupted, hoping to swing her thoughts back to a positive mode.

"I hope so."

Despite all their differences over the years, Lisa shuddered interiorly at the notion something horrible could have happened to Val.

"Hey, isn't Herring micro-chipped?" Georgie asked.

"He is," Lisa said, turning to look at the teen. "And I think I know where you're going with this, but those chips aren't designed to be tracked by GPS."

"Oh, right," Georgie said with a defeated pout. "I guess I thought it could be an easy way to locate him."

Lisa pursed her lips, then said: "It was a good thought. It's just too bad that's not how it works. If it were, we would have tracked Herring hours ago—the moment we knew he and Val were missing."

Georgie sighed. "Okay. Too bad. I really hope she's okay, and Herring, of course."

"Me, too."

***

MISSING PERSONS REPORT

Tuesday, April 16

Hudson Police are seeking public assistance in locating a missing local woman.

Valerie Jane Stanton, 59, was last seen on the morning of Tuesday, April 16 departing her residence of Briar Ridge on horseback and did not return at the scheduled time.

She is described as 5'5", approximately 130 lbs., with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing English-style riding attire and a riding helmet, as pictured.

The horse she was riding is chestnut in colour with one white sock on his right front foreleg.

Stanton's family believes she could be in medical distress due to an undisclosed health issue.

Anyone with information about Stanton's whereabouts are asked to contact Hudson Police immediately at 403-555-7799.

Photo courtesy Stanton family

***

The sun was just cresting the horizon when Lisa pulled into Fairfield the next morning. She was pleased to see some of her staff already seeing after the never-ending list of duties assigned to them. The smart maroon jerseys with the Fairfield logo that distinguished her staff from visitors or clients brought a smile to her face. It was something her father would never have done, but once Fairfield had started to become more well-known past local circles, adding this touch of professionalism had seemed to be the right move.

Ten minutes later, she had mounted up on Cinders and was cantering out towards her usual morning destination: Lookout Point. The familiar sights and sounds brought a welcome comfort to her troubled mind. Neither she nor Jack had enjoyed a restful night. Thoughts of the missing Val Stanton and the horse she was riding had proven to be a burdensome distraction. With no news on Val's whereabouts this morning, their worry had not abated. Lisa figured with daylight hours now upon them, the police would probably be resuming their search.

Where could Val possibly be? Lisa fretted for the hundredth time. Again, she pushed back the unsettling thought that Val could have fallen from Herring. Who goes off riding without a cell phone these days in case something like this happens?

The still snow-capped Rocky Mountains glowed in the bright, early sunshine. Lisa reined in Cinders and simply sat for a few moments, taking in the awe-inspiring view. No matter how often she took this ride and gazed out at these mountains, they were different, beautiful and new every time. She was about to urge Cinders forward again when a flicker of movement caught the corner of her right eye.

A wild whinny of terror reached Lisa's ears, followed by the fierce pounding of hooves. Cinders reacted by giving a whinny of his own while shaking his head, sensing danger.

Lisa's gaze now fell on a chestnut horse that circled them in confusion and fright. A few ugly, bloody gashes stood out in stark relief on the left hindquarter, flank, and thigh. The saddle and pad were missing.

"Herring!" Lisa cried in recognition. She quickly dismounted. If this was Herring, her missing horse, then where was its rider, Val?

"Herring," Lisa called softly, dread billowing up inside her. The chestnut horse shook his head furiously when Lisa approached. He snorted once then bolted away from her.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Lisa tried to lower her voice, slowing her steps so as not to frighten the horse further. She realised he must be suffering a great deal from his injuries, the cause of which Lisa could not yet determine, but she had a strong suspicion a bear's paws had inflicted the damage. She took a few furtive glances around, but saw no sign of anything of a predatory nature. Besides, the wounds looked as if they had been bleeding for some time.

Where is Val? Lisa wondered again in a panic. If Herring is hurt, Val could be, too...

Lisa cast her eyes down to the grassy ground in search of anything resembling a human form. Her eyes soon fell upon mangled black leather. That must be Val's dressage saddle, Lisa thought, recognizing the shape of the riding gear. It obviously got snagged on something or pulled off. That's why it's lying here. Not far away, Lisa spied a torn saddle pad soiled with dirt and blood. Oh, no. Val could be lying here anywhere. She took a few careful paces forward, keeping close watch on Herring at the same time. The last thing she wanted was for him to be so spooked he took off for a wooded area, or worse, towards the road where he might be hit by some careless driver.

"Val?!" Lisa chanced a shout. "Can you hear me?"

She kept pacing around slowly, keeping her eyes peeled. After about five minutes, Lisa thought she spotted something unusual. About ten paces away, she identified what appeared to be a human-shaped lump, partially obscured in the ankle-high wild grass. Lisa's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

"Val?" she called with growing trepidation. She crept closer, then stopped at five paces, having now, even from this distance, seen enough to know getting any nearer would be a bad idea. She pulled out her cell phone and immediately put in a call to the Hudson police department. Val Stanton had indeed fallen from Herring as Lisa had feared, and from what she could see, the other woman would never be getting up again.

***

At 9:00 a.m. that same morning, Ty's phone buzzed just as he was finishing a quiet breakfast with Amy. "It's Scott," he said, looking at the screen.

"Go ahead," Amy said with a nod, figuring it could be something urgent.

"Hi, Scott," Ty spoke, rising from the table and moving to the living room area of the loft. "Lookout Point? Yeah, I can be there in about twenty minutes... Okay, 'bye."

"Work emergency?" Amy asked with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," Ty said with a frown. "It's weird, though. Scott said the police called him out to Lookout Point. Something about a horse and a crime scene."

"A horse and a crime scene?" Amy gasped, remembering Jack and Lisa's fruitless search the evening before. "Val Stanton and Herring... You don't think this has anything to do with them, do you?"

"Scott didn't say, but I hope not," Ty said, moving quickly to stow his breakfast dishes in the washer. He planted a kiss on his wife's cheek before hurrying into the bathroom to finish cleaning up for his departure.

"See you later," Amy said, catching him for a parting kiss when he emerged. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Ty responded, kissing her again. "Give Lyndy a kiss for me, too, okay?"

"Of course. Now go on; don't be late."

***

By the time Ty reached Lookout Point, he saw a coroner's van pulling onto the road back towards town. He quickly spotted several police vehicles along with Scott's truck. Two constables stood beside their SUVs, ostensibly there to direct traffic or to encourage nosy onlookers to keep driving past. Ty, unsure of what he should do, pulled to a stop behind Scott's truck. One constable approached and Ty lowered his window expectantly.

"This area has been declared a crime scene; you'll need to continue on," said the young constable, whose nametag identified him as 'Becket'.

"I've been called out here," Ty said. "I'm Dr. Borden. I'm a veterinarian and I work with Dr. Scott Cardinal."

"I.D., please?" Becket asked.

Ty provided his license.

"Okay, stay right here," Becket said after handing back the card. He keyed his radio. "Chief, Dr. Borden has arrived. You're expecting him?"

Chief Parker's deep voice came over the radio, confirming Ty had indeed been summoned and should be permitted to enter the area.

"Follow me," Becket said nodding to Ty. "I'll take you to the spot."

"Thanks," Ty said, growing more uneasy with the entire situation. He stepped out of the truck's cab, vet kit in hand. He followed close on Becket's heels across the uneven grassy terrain, over the rise in the landscape, and down towards a perimeter cordoned off with large orange barriers and yellow crime scene tape.

Within that perimeter Ty could make out a small cluster of uniformed personnel and numbered yellow tags on the turf. He then spotted not one, but two horses outside the perimeter. To his utter surprise, he now saw Lisa was holding the rein of one of those horses.

That's Cinders, he thought, recognizing the dapple grey horse from the time Lisa and Jack had reconciled during an ill-fated trip to Montana. The other horse was being kept away from everyone by Scott for some reason. Now as he neared, Ty could see the horse being minded by Scott was indeed injured.

Ty caught Lisa's eye as he made his way past the perimeter towards his mentor. In that brief exchange, he read in her expression shock and horror. She was speaking with Chief Parker, but he could not make out their conversation. With the presence of the coroner's van he had seen only moments earlier, a new sense of foreboding gripped Ty. He wondered what Lisa was even doing at Lookout Point amidst all these police officers, but then remembered her habit of riding out to this location on most mornings—a habit she had retained even after moving in at Heartland.

"Hey, Ty, thanks for coming," Scott said. The horse he was minding let out a loud snort and kicked at the turf as soon as it spotted Ty.

"Easy, easy," Scott said soothingly.

"Whoa, what's going on with this guy?" Ty asked.

"This is Herring," Scott said of the chestnut horse. "And it looks like he's been attacked by a bear. Lisa thinks he's been out here all last night."

"All last night?" Ty repeated, instantly registering the horse's name and why it sounded familiar. "Scott, Val Stanton was supposed to be riding Herring yesterday. The coroner's van I just saw..."

Bleakly, Scott answered Ty's implied question. "Val's dead, Ty. Lisa found her body."

Ty closed his eyes and exhaled his shock. "Aw, man. That's terrible. Was she thrown, or something?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. Chief Parker and his team were already here when I arrived. I didn't get a look at the body. My immediate concern was for Herring. Lisa said he was spooked by Cinders and absolutely would not calm down. Wouldn't even let her approach with Cinders so close. That's why they called me. I've just administered a sedative. It's a small miracle he let me get near enough even for that, because everyone was ready to go with a tranquilizer gun. Anyway, I called you because Herring is Lisa's. She asked for you."

Despite the sedative Scott administered, Ty noted the horse was still skittish. Its eyes roved in an agitated fashion, and it was wary of any movement. This was demonstrated right at that moment when Chief Parker ambled over to the veterinarians. Herring gave a wild cry and stamped a hoof.

"Whoa," Scott said in a gentle tone. The horse managed to settle enough for Parker not to feel threatened.

"Thanks for coming, Ty," the senior officer said. Turning to Scott, he added, "Dr. Cardinal, one of my guys is going to come and take those photos of the wounds on Herring now like we talked about earlier, just in case we need anything for evidence later. Do you think he can keep still enough for that?"

"The sedative should really be taking effect now, but no sudden moves," Scott warned.

"We'll do our best," Parker said, waving over a member of his forensic crime scene team. The young man clutched a large kit stuffed with photography equipment, listened to Parker's instructions about what he needed, and carried on with his task.

"I think the best thing would be to get him trailered to Heartland since it's so nearby," Ty said, while the photographs were being snapped. "And he does belong to Lisa, after all."

"Fine," Parker said with a brisk nod. "Let my guy finish up here, then I'll sign off on that transport."

Ty looked over once more at Lisa, concerned for her state of mind after finding Val. Her body language said it all as she stood rigidly in place, tightly gripping Cinders' rein with her left hand, her riding helmet pressed snugly against her side in the crook of her right arm.

Parker was speaking to her again now, and Ty saw her nod her head a couple times. He rightly assumed it was about the arrangement to bring Herring to Heartland. Ty wondered why she had not yet approached them, but remembered the injured horse's current mental state. Whatever happened out here, this poor horse has been severely traumatized, Ty realised. Everything is spooking him right now.

"I'm finished here," the forensics photographer finally said, and backed away calmly and carefully from the injured animal.

"Thanks," Scott said. Then, turning to Ty, added, "Let's get these wounds cleaned up now. I'm worried about how long they've been left exposed like this. I don't want infection to set in."

"Right," Ty said in agreement. He cast one last glance back at Lisa. She waved a gloved hand before placing her helmet back on her head in preparation to ride Cinders back to Fairfield. He waved back, then set to work with Scott to clean and bandage the wounds on the afflicted horse.

***

"The police are here with the trailer," Jack announced as he peered out the kitchen window.

Lisa set down her mug of tea. "Thanks," she murmured, still dressed in her riding attire. She had immediately driven back from Fairfield after depositing Cinders and had arrived at Heartland only minutes earlier.

Jack watched things unfold from the porch. Lisa, Ty, and Amy gathered at the trailer and they spoke with a pair of constables. He watched Lisa sign some sort of official paperwork.

With that piece of business taken care of, Ty and Amy began the task of offloading Herring. Lisa said something to them Jack could not determine, but seemed to him to be words of encouragement. The constables departed, their job having been completed.

"Scott administered a sedative on site," Ty said to Amy, as he slowly guided the animal towards the stables. "Herring was really agitated from the pain and the trauma of the attack, we think."

"Poor guy," Amy said.

"It's a miracle he was able to get close enough for that," Ty repeated what his mentor said at Lookout Point. "Scott mentioned they were almost ready to use the tranquilizer. We cleaned up the wounds as best we could out there, but we still need to watch for signs of infection."

Amy nodded in understanding.

"What comes next, now that he's here?" Lisa asked.

"I can deal with the physical side; we're all hoping you can cope with his behavior, Amy," Ty answered as they entered the barn. "He's terrified of everything right now. You'll see once the sedation wears off."

"No wonder," Amy said, noting the bandages Ty and Scott had applied to the left flank, hindquarter, and thigh. "After what he's been through, he's going to need a lot of help."

"I'm game if you are, babe," Ty said with a smile.

"I most certainly am, Dr. Borden," Amy replied, stretching up to kiss him.

Lisa smiled at the sight. "I'll let you two get to it," she said, sending them a wink as she parted company, confident her horse was in the right hands.

***

Despite knowing Herring would most likely make a full recovery under Ty and Amy's expert care, Lisa's face was grim when she was once again inside the kitchen.

"How bad is it?" Jack ventured to ask, immediately noticing her gloomy expression.

Lisa sat down at the table before giving an answer. She took a sip from her mug, but the tea had grown tepid in her absence and failed to help ward off a chill she was suddenly experiencing.

"The bear got some pretty good swipes in," Lisa finally responded, a slight tremor passing through her frame at the memory of seeing the extent of Herring's injuries. "Some of those claw marks are pretty deep. But that's not the only concern. He's been really traumatised psychologically by the attack. Right now he is sedated; Amy is hoping to work with him later."

Jack observed her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," she said, looking up at his face and reading there a combination of love and worry. "I'm much more upset about Val. When I saw her lying there, facedown, I just knew. It was awful, Jack."

"I'm so sorry you had to find her like that, Lis," Jack said, gently placing his hand over hers.

"I can't imagine what could have happened. From what I was able to see, her jacket... her jacket was bloodstained. Do you think the bear—"

"I really don't know," Jack interjected quickly, wanting to divert his wife's line of thinking. "No use dwelling on it until the police finish their investigation."

"You knew her longer than I did," Lisa stated carefully. "You were the friend she leaned on when she was going through her cancer battles."

"Right," Jack said slowly with a nod of agreement.

"She had feelings for you, Jack," Lisa added. "You know she did; I won't pretend I didn't notice. Years back she let me know in no uncertain terms she was keeping you in her life, despite knowing we were a serious item."

"Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?" asked Jack, surprised the conversation had swayed in this direction.

Lisa exhaled. "I don't really know. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around everything, I guess. What I'm trying to say is, despite Val not being my favourite person on the planet, I certainly never wanted her dead, and certainly not like that."

"Come here," Jack said, opening his arms. Lisa got up from her seat and slid onto Jack's lap. He encircled her in a tight embrace, nuzzling the side of her head. The earlier chill that had descended upon her melted away with the warmth of his body so close to hers.

"Mmm..." murmured Lisa. "Thank you. I needed this hug."

"You're welcome," Jack whispered.

***

Hudson Times—Print Version

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Briar Ridge Owner Found Dead

Nadir Jutley

Prominent Hudson businesswoman Valerie Stanton was found dead early Tuesday morning. Stanton had earlier been reported missing by her son, Jesse Stanton. He told this reporter he advised authorities his mother had been out horseback riding on Monday and had not returned by the appointed time. He immediately reported this absence, as he was particularly concerned for her well-being due to an undisclosed health issue.

This reporter learned local veterinarians, Drs. Cardinal and Borden were called to Lookout Point and an injured horse was removed from the scene for treatment.

Chief of Hudson Police James Parker has issued the following statement:

"At approximately 7:15 a.m. on Tuesday morning, the body of Ms. Valerie Stanton of Briar Ridge Stables was discovered by a Hudson resident out on a horseback ride up at Lookout Point. Ms. Stanton had evidently fallen from her mount. Our preliminary examination shows that any injuries suffered in that fall did not ultimately contribute to her death. At this time, we cannot comment on the precise cause of death except to say we believe Ms. Stanton did not die from natural causes.

"We would also like to issue another warning to the public about the bear that has been seen around Hudson. There is evidence the horse Ms. Stanton was riding came into close contact with that animal and suffered some injuries as a result."

Chief Parker said he would make more details public as they became available.

Briar Ridge staff and neighbours reacted with sadness and shock at the news.

Stanton was the owner of Briar Ridge Stables, a world-class showjumping training facility. She was predeceased by her husband, Alexander Stanton, in 2004; she is survived by two adult children, Jesse and Ashley.

• Email: nadir_jutley

***

"I still can't believe Val is dead," Georgie said, staring blankly. "We just saw her at the faux fox hunt last week."

"It's crazy," Lou uttered in agreement. "I don't get it. What on earth could have happened? And this part about 'Ms. Stanton did not die from natural causes'. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means whatever happened to her wasn't natural, and it wasn't an accident," Tim spoke up. He made a slashing motion across his neck.

"Dad!" Lou cried in dismay, staring at him in shock at his crude gesture.

"What? That's exactly what it means," he said in his defense. "Someone or some thing killed Val. But I'll wager this is a case of foul play."

Lou glared at her father. "You didn't have to be so—so graphic about it."

Tim was about to give some smart retort, but was stalled when Georgie spoke up.

"I rode for her... And I did a school project on Briar Ridge," murmured the teen, voice toneless. "I learned so much from her, even if I didn't agree with her business model. She wasn't the easiest person to deal with, you know? She could be so demanding and so mean sometimes, but I-I don't know how anyone could want to hurt her."

"Hey, come here," Lou said softly, beckoning her daughter for a hug, which the girl quickly accepted. "Don't worry yourself about it, honey."

"Make no mistake: someone did her in. And all I have to say is the cops better catch the person responsible," Tim remarked. "Last thing we need is a killer on the loose in Hudson."

***

The man's phone buzzed.

"Speak," he said, upon accepting the call.

"They found the body."

"I know. It's being blasted in the local paper."

"Hmph. My client wasn't expecting her to be found for another few days."

"Not my problem."

"You're sure no one saw you out there?"

"I was long gone before the body was discovered. No one saw me. You can take that to the bank."

"Okay, fine. My client just wants to be sure."

"Tell your 'client' I did what I was paid to do. I don't control what happens afterwards. If he was so concerned about when or how someone eventually stumbled upon that woman's corpse, he should have added 'disposal' to the list of duties."

"You do that, too?"

"If my price is met."

"Good to know. I'll keep that in mind."

***

Hudson Times — Print Version

Thursday, April 18

Cause of Death Released

Nadir Jutley

At a press conference yesterday, Hudson Police Chief James Parker announced a stunning development in the death of prominent Hudsonite Valerie Stanton.

"The coroner has determined that Ms. Stanton's death was the result of a single gunshot wound," Parker revealed. "We have no suspects at this time, but we are asking for the public's help in this matter. Sometime on the morning of the 15th, Ms. Stanton was out on horseback at Lookout Point near Highway 23. We are asking for any hunters, hikers, or motorists in the vicinity at the time to please come forward with any information."

When asked by this reporter, Chief Parker admitted they are treating the death as "suspicious", but ultimately stated the shooting could be accidental in nature.

"The fact that we've had several bear sightings and the fact the horse Ms. Stanton was riding was attacked by a bear is reason enough to believe someone might have been aiming for one of those predators. The possibility certainly exists Ms. Stanton could have been struck by a stray bullet. This is why it is crucial we speak to anyone who might have been out hunting in the area on Monday, the 15th."

Alberta Fish and Wildlife had previously issued a warning about a bear in Hudson county, and they repeated that warning today. If spotted, residents are asked to call 555-625-1540. Do not approach the animal in any circumstance.

Valerie Stanton was the owner and operator of the renowned Briar Ridge Stables. She was also a member of the Hudson Chamber of Commerce, and was the recipient of the Hudson Businesswoman of the Year award in 2006. She is survived by her two adult children, Jesse and Ashley.

The funeral for Stanton will be held on Tuesday, April 23 at the Hudson Funeral Home at 1:00 p.m.; a private burial will take place at the Highwood Cemetery.

• Email: nadir_jutley

***

The atmosphere around the dinner table felt quieter and more sombre than usual that Good Friday evening with just Jack, Lisa, and Georgie sharing a meal. Katie was off to spend the Easter long weekend and an extended spring break in Vancouver with Peter. Lou had departed for New York to deal with her Maggie's franchise business, and would be gone for the next month or so. Surprisingly, Tim was spending a rare evening at Big River for his evening meal. Lisa had extended an invitation to Ty and Amy to come by; the couple had declined.

Jack was feeling the weight of the uncommon silence. He reflected on how much a lively dinner hour had become the norm over the past several years.

It was such a contrast to the time immediately following Lyndy's death when dinners tended to be low-key affairs. Back then, it would be a setting for four: Marion, himself, Lou and Amy. Even then, sometimes he would be eating alone if he had been out dealing with the herd. At other times, he would be eating with just Amy and Lou if their mother was looking after a particularly difficult client horse. Then Scott entered the picture for a few years when Marion sponsored him. Soon after, both the former juvenile delinquent and Lou left Heartland to spread their wings and pursue higher education and careers, bringing the number of those at the dining table down to a paltry three.

Jack's thoughts drifted to Amy and Ty's newest patient. From what Lisa reported upon Herring's return from his fateful ride with Val up to Lookout Point, Jack knew the horse suffered some trauma due to the bear's attack, not unlike what Bear the horse had suffered a few years in the past. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of Val's body lying on the ground next to Herring as the ravenous predator approached. He swiped a hand across his face, hoping to blot out the images his troubled imagination conjured.

"You all right?" asked Lisa, upon seeing this action.

"Fine," he replied, suddenly self-conscious.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Jack," Georgie added. "You seemed really out of it for a few minutes."

"I am fine, both of you," Jack insisted, trying to ignore Georgie's unsolicited observation. "Not particularly happy, mind you. After all, I've just lost a friend and neighbour, and nobody seems to know what the heck happened to her, but I'm fine."

"Okay, honey," Lisa said placatingly.

Figuring now was as good a time as any to bring up the subject, Jack said, "I don't mean to sound like a worry-wort, but it would give me a great deal of peace of mind if you skipped your usual morning rides out to Lookout Point for the next little while, Lis."

"Oh, I have no intention of going out there anytime soon, believe me," Lisa said with a shudder. "Not after..."

She let her words die on her lips. No, after finding Val's body, Lookout Point would be crossed off her list of riding destinations for the foreseeable future.

"Good," Jack grunted in relief and approval.

They all turned their attention back to the food on their plates, any further conversation having dried up completely. Mention of Lookout Point and the knowledge of what happened to Val ensured no one would be in the mood to say much of anything else.

***

Easter Monday

"How's Herring doing this morning?" Lisa asked Amy as she walked inside the barn.

"Physically, better. Mentally, not so much," Amy replied with a slight frown. "He still won't go near any of the other horses when I try to turn him out in the paddock. I'm afraid he thinks any large animal is a threat. But like I said, his physical wounds are healing well, thanks to Ty. No signs of infection."

"Okay, good," Lisa said.

"I'm actually thinking of trying a little canine therapy with him."

"Oh?" said Lisa, looking at Amy with interest at this comment.

"Yes," Amy said. "Remi was a great help with that mare-foal pairing we had a few weeks ago. She had a calming effect on the mare. The less we humans interfered, the more Sassy was willing to let the foal approach. The same thing might work for Herring. Remi's a smaller animal than a horse or even a person, so he might not spook so easily in her presence."

"Makes sense," Lisa said with a smile of admiration at Amy's astute observations. "You just keep doing what you do, Amy. I know everything will turn out just fine."

"Thanks, Lisa," Amy said. "You've always had faith in me, right from the start. I don't think I've told you how much that means to me."

"Well, you deserve it, 'Miracle Girl'," Lisa said affectionately. "Okay, I'll let you get back to it. See you later; I'm off to Fairfield."

***

Chapter 4: Let the Dead Bury Their Own Dead

[fanficteen]

stale blood (4)

chris argent x reader

Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly where you’d expect to find a bog cat. There definitely wasn’t a bog, and it wasn’t even coastal, no major water sources… There was the lake an hour or so out of town, but the bodies were near the school. Your light flickered and you glanced up. 3am. Your tea was cold beside you and the rabbit hole had so far proved worthless, so you flipped your laptop closed and poured the stewed drink down the sink. A muffled click brought your attention and you frowned, letting your senses roam a little wider. Something was breathing – something big, rasping, and close. You fumbled for your phone. The breathing drew closer. You unsheathed your claws, hurrying towards your bedroom in search of the painted nettle plant you’d bought. This was as good a time to test that hypothesis as any. One hand out behind you held the front door shut as you passed it, heading for the stairs, your magic holding strong though you could feel something bashing at it. Then the door splintered under the weight of clawed hands, and a man stepped through. He was unnervingly tall, with eyes the colour of torchlit fog and black fur beginning to sprout up his arms. You growled, lowly, urgently tapping through your phone. He leapt forward and suddenly you were jumping out of reach of a full-blown paw, claw marks scraping down your chest. The man was gone, and you were faced with something entirely feline, and entirely feral. His hackles rose, fur bristling up so you couldn’t get a clear view of his true size. He hissed and you bolted before he could pounce, sprinting up the stairs.

“Hello?” Allison’s voice was quiet, confused, when she answered the phone. “Allison,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady as the cat’s quiet footsteps approached. “It’s (Y/N). Your, uh, your Dad isn’t home is he?” “Yeah, he is. Are you okay? You sound a little out of breath.” You heard her muffled voice call for Chris on the other end of the line. “Well, on one hand, I’m great, because we were right.” The door to your room slammed open, and a huge paw sent you hurtling across the room, crashing into your closet with a thud. “On the other hand, there is a giant cat in my house.” “There’s what?!” Allison exclaimed, and you heard shuffling in the background. You ducked under the cat’s next swipe, but he caught your arm and your phone tumbled from your hand. Growling, you sent it crashing back into the hallway with a wave of your hand. He yowled, but was back on his feet in a moment, hurtling towards you as you lurched towards the windowsill. You snatched up a handful of painted nettle and tossed it, desperately. The cat hissed, darting backwards, a few burns patterning into his fur where the leaves settled. You could hear Allison trying to talk to you, something about calling Scott, then the telltale beep of the line cutting off. Wary now, the cat circled you as you held the painted nettle plant between you and him, distinctly aware that the only way out was under the cat or out the window. He darted forward and you shot out a hand, throwing him back. But he landed on his feet and ran for you again, slamming into an unseen wall between you. You could feel the wound in your chest still oozing blood, though it should have healed by now, and your head was beginning to spin. Headlights flashed across your window as the Argents’ car hurtled down your quiet street. Your shield flickered with your focus, just long enough for a stray claw to slash across your face, and then you flipped, one clawed foot smashing into the cat’s jaw as you shattered through your bedroom window, plant still clutched to your chest. A few shards of glass embedded themselves in you, but you were more worried about the snarling of the cat behind you. There was a crash as he followed you from the window, then you were both blinded by torchlight. A ragged hiss, and it bounded away, disappearing into the woods behind your neighbour’s house. “(Y/N)?” Allison questioned, as you blinked against the light of her torch, staggering towards their car. You hummed what you hoped was an agreement, holding the plant out to her. She took it, raising an eyebrow. “It works,” you managed, after a beat. Chris rounded the other side of the house, gun still raised.

“Where’s Deaton?” Chris demanded, as Scott let you all into the vets. “He’s on his way.” “Why aren’t you healing?” Stiles frowned. “I think he laced his claws with wolfsbane,” you admitted, looking down at the already-festering cuts on your chest. “He what?!” “He knows what he’s dealing with. That means he didn’t come to Beacon Hills accidentally,” you realised, aloud, as Scott and Chris helped you up onto the operating table. “If he’s laced his claws with wolfsbane, how are we meant to fight him?” Scott fretted, as Chris already began setting to work cleaning around your wounds. “With that.” Allison was still holding the plant you had handed to her, as though she wasn’t sure what the hell else to do with it. “It smells like weed,” Stiles commented, sniffing it suspiciously. “Are you going to feed the killer cat weed? Get it stoned?” “It’s scaredy cat plant,” Deaton corrected, making Stiles jump as he entered. “Plectranthus caninus.” “I was looking into it,” you explained, “As possibly useful, but I wasn’t sure.” “So you went up against this thing with no idea how to hurt it except maybe a plant?” Stiles clarified. “I didn’t invite it over,” you snapped, muffling a shout as Deaton poured antiseptic into one of the scratches. “Can we talk about this after the wolfsbane is out of her system?” Chris prompted, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. Deaton held up a needle, and you groaned, but let him push you down onto the table anyway. “Don’t look at me like that. This will be out of your system in thirty minutes,” he scolded, lightly, jabbing the needle into your neck. “Just lie there and be glad you’re not a real dog.”

When you blinked awake again, the room wasn’t any quieter. Stiles was complaining loudly about supernatural creatures targeting them, while Deaton very patiently pointed out that the town was literally a supernatural beacon, Stiles, and your best friend is a once-in-several-lifetimes rarity, you can move away to college if you want. “He enjoys this too much,” Scott snickered, making Stiles glare at him. “What, it’s true! You’re the one who dragged me out to murder investigations before I was even a werewolf.” Stiles grumbled a response, but you were too busy with the sudden pounding of your head to bother absorbing it. “It’d be really nice if being bitten cured migraines.” The room fell silent, then Chris was at your shoulder, helping you as you struggled to sit up. “How are you feeling?” “I no longer feel like I’ve been attacked by a large cat,” you started, wincing against the lights as Deaton quickly dimmed them. “But I could do without the jackhammer in my head.” Deaton passed you some painkillers, and you smiled gratefully. “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?” Scott asked, peering at you worriedly. “No, this is distinctly a migraine. Give me a few hours of sleep and a handful of painkillers and I’ll be fine,” you assured him, finally settling on just closing your eyes. A shiver ran through you, and you instinctively leaned into the warmth at your side, before it shifted, and you remembered, as Chris’ arm wrapped around your shoulder, engulfing you in his warmth. You didn’t see the three teenagers exchange glances. “We should all get some rest,” Deaton spoke, eventually. “You three – four, I suppose – still have school on Monday. You’ll keep an eye on (Y/N)?” You shot your eyes open, feeling Chris nod above you. “Hold on, I don’t need babysitting!” you protested, though your voice was barely above a whisper. Stiles snickered and you glared at him. “Well you’re not going home alone,” Scott insisted, folding his arms. “Your house was trashed anyway,” Allison pointed out, making you grimace. “There goes my deposit.” “You almost died and you’re worried about your deposit?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “We aren’t all renowned arms-dealers, Argent,” Stiles put in, before you could answer. “In this economy, I’m with her.” You felt the heave of Chris’ sigh, but he didn’t respond.

You climbed out when Chris stopped the car, and barely even bothered protesting as he took your bag. You’d almost given up on arguing with him, he won every time, and your head was already pounding. “I’m going to bed. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Allison kissed her father goodnight and padded up the stairs. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, I’ll make up the spare bed in the morning,” Chris offered, leading the way upstairs as Allison disappeared into her room. “I’ll come by and check on you every couple of hours – I know you’re a shifter, but you still jumped out a window and took a solid hit of wolfsbane.” “I won’t kick you out of your bed, Chris. I can take the couch,” you answered, tiredly. He plopped your bag down at the foot of the bed and turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “You’re already housing me, you don’t need to give up your bed. Or your sleep, for that matter.” You reached for the bag. Chris blocked you. “Just take the bed.” “No!” “(Y/N) –“ “Either we share, or I’m sleeping on the couch.” Chris blinked. “It’s plenty big enough, and then I won’t have to talk you out of checking on me when you need to sleep.” “We’re not teenagers at a sleepover! You were seriously injured!” “Will you two make up your minds so we can all sleep?” Allison called across the hall. “Fine. We can share.” You smiled, triumphantly, as Chris ceded.

[marvelmadam08]

Baby Blues 16/?

Summary: Chris and Alex discuss Ace’s first Halloween.

Warnings: Fluff, Jealousy (is procrastination a warning?)

A/N: Happy Halloween!! 

~~~~~~~

10 Weeks Old

Alex didn't know what to expect walking in her bathroom, but she wasn't expecting to see Chris holding Ace in front of the mirror, singing along to Bon Jovi "Living on a Prayer". Ace's legs swung and kicked off beat, and he stared back at Chris in the mirror.

“What are you doing?”

“Educating, next week it’s The Beatles.”

Alex sat on the bathroom counter “I just got off the phone with my Mom, she wants to know if we’re gonna dress Alexander up for Halloween.”

“Are we?”

“It’s kinda last minute isn’t it? I don’t even think I’m dressing up.”

Chris held Ace out to Alex “But you have to dress up Mama, it’ll be fun.” he said in a high pitched voice “For me?”

“Fine, what do you wanna go as?”

“Okay hear me out,” Chris spoke in his regular voice, and held Ace up as if he were presenting him “Ewok, I’m Han, you’re Leia.”

“I’m not wearing that bikini outfit from Return of The Jedi.”

“But you have to- for the accuracy.”

“If you wanna be accurate, the only black person in Stars Wars was Lando, but I always did look good in a cape. What did we go as last year?”

“We stayed in remember, and watched all those Stephen King movies.”

Alex laughed at the memory, she and Chris had fallen asleep and when she woke up there was a ten foot demon clown staring back at her. She screamed so loud, she woke Chris and he fell off the couch. And then Dodger started barking and growling at something that was outside. Which ended up being the neighbor’s scarecrow floating face down in their pool, the results of a prank gone wrong, or right depending on how you look at it.

“We’ll think of something.”

“We can look for costumes after I get home.” he looked down at his watch “Speaking of, I gotta go bud." Chris placed litte kisses on Ace's cheek before passing him over to Alex

"No kiss for Mama?" Alex pouted

Chris smirked and leaned in closer “Always a kiss for Mama.” he tilted his head to the side to kiss her cheek the same way he kissed Ace

"You are such a goof. Go before you're late."

"Okay." He leaned in to kiss her on the lips this time.

***

Alex paced back and forth in front of her laptop, the blank document and notepad stared back, idle and waiting for her next idea. However everything but writing was on Alex's mind.

She thought about dinner for later, if Ace was ever gonna stay asleep for longer than two hours at a time. Dodger's next appointment to the vet, which was either at 10 on Tuesdays or at 2 on the tenth, she worried she was getting it confused with Ace next appointment. Ace's Halloween costume, she questioned if she really wanted to celebrate this year. Taking Ace out with all the other kids, who carry germs, strangers being in his face saying how cute he looks in his costume. Alex wasn't a violent person, but if Ace got sick because someone was breathing in his face, she'd throw a bulk size pack of night quill and a tic tac at whoever was to blame.

She had gone full mommy mode after overthinking about Halloween, reading more than her share of mommy blogs, doctor suggestions, and then left a voicemail on Ace's pediatrician's phone asking for their advice.

And Alex was still in Mommy mode by the time Chris got home, laying on the floor with Ace for his tummy time, he was finally able to push himself up a little and look around.

"You're Mama's big boy aren't you." Alex smiled, Ace's head bobbed slightly, drooling all over his hand and blanket

"I thought I was Mama's big boy?" Chris sat on the floor next to Alex, Dodger curl up in Chris's lap

"You've been replaced by the cutest little guy in the world."

Chris chuckled "A worthy opponent. So I was thinking, maybe if you're up for it, we can ask my mom to watch Ace that night. We could go out for a bit, make it another date night?"

"You mean overnight?"

"Yeah." Chris said after a small pause

Alex sat up, lifting Ace into her arms. "I don't know babe, Ace isn't sleeping through the night just yet. Wouldn't that be a little unfair? And doesn't she have like half the kids in the neighborhood over for her Halloween party? It's too much."

"It's not really a party, but I see your point. How about Scott, he doesn't have a life."

"Chris." Alex playfully rolled her eyes "Ace isn't ready for a sleepover yet. And I'm not ready for a night away from him."

"Okay." Chris kept his face neutral, only nodding and scratching behind Dodger's ear. "What about the daytime?"

"Funny. I'm kinda in the mood for some pizza tonight? How about you?"

Alex handed Ace over to Chris while she got up from the floor. Ace twisted and squirmed in Chris's arms, whining for Alex instead.

"Yeah, pizza is fine." Chris bounced him and hummed softly. Ace's lip quivered and he turned his head in Alex's direction before crying again. "What's wrong bud? What happen? What'd I do?"

Alex reached out for him again, Chris quickly returned Ace to her. She held him close, while his head rested in the crook of her neck and settled his cries.

"He's probably just cranky. What's the matter? It's only Daddy."

He felt almost childish, realizing that he had to share Alex's time with Ace, and he suddenly didn't feel like sharing. Although, as a father, he knew that he'd be just as worried about leaving Ace with someone for the night, even if it was with family. He just wanted to have his wife to himself again, at least for one night. To watch a movie without Ace needing to be changed, have a dinner where Ace wasn't attached to Alex; be able to have sex, and not being limited to time between Ace's feedings and random cries for attention.

"Babe?" Alex tapped Chris on the shoulder

"Hm?"

"I said, what do you want on the pizza?"

He shook his head and moved Dodger out of his lap so he could stand up "You pick, it's fine."

"You okay?"

"Just tired, I'm gonna go hop in the shower." Chris half mumbled on his way out the living room, Alex watched him, shoulder's slumped forward and Dodger following behind him.

"I think you hurt Daddy's feelings." She whispered to Ace

[arukou-arukou]

Just A Really Very Intelligent System

Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it. Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.) Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS

----

He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.

“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”

“Override accepted. Sir?”

“Hey, J.”

“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”

“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”

“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”

“It would really help me out, buddy.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.

“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”

Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”

“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”

Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.

“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”

“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”

He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.

“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”

Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.

“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”

“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.

“Sir, what are you--”

Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--

Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.

Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.

“Sir? Sir. Sir!”

And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.

“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.

“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”

“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.

“I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”

“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.

“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”

And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”

“Do I meet her, Sir?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.

“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”

“Should you really--”

“And, please. Please please.”

Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?

“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”

Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.

“Are you quite finished, Sir?”

“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”

Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.

“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”

His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”

“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”

“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”

Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.

“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”

Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”

“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”

“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”

“And you say you have the means to time travel?”

“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”

“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.

Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.

Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”

Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”

Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”

-----

(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, hazelestelle!

For @hazelestelle <3

Read On AO3

*****

It's Always Something, Even at Christmas

Chapter 1

“I need you to be my date.”

Stiles turned so quickly he fell out of his chair and cursed as he hit the floor and landed directly on his elbow. He glared up at Derek from the floor and gave him a look as he rolled his eyes and said, “Could you at least try to come in through the front door like a normal person?” while Derek stood there just inside his window, hands inside his leather coat, looking entirely undisturbed at the fact that he’d scared the crap out of his emissary.

“I need you to be my date,” he repeated, looking thoroughly annoyed, but Stiles, being far too attuned to the Alpha’s moods, noticed the slight hint of desperation in his tone. “The stupid firm I’m working for is having a Christmas party and if I don’t come with a date, specifically you, then that woman who works across from me is going to jump me.”

Stiles snorted as he got to his feet, rubbing his elbow, tossing the man a look as he went back to his laptop and said, “You could just not go to the party, you know that, right?”

Derek let out an exasperated sigh and threw himself onto Stiles’ bed and uncharacteristically rubbed his hands over his face and said, “God, I wish it were that easy. This stupid architecture degree was supposed to make my job easier, not harder,” he complained, and then said, “The thing is, I just finished helping the partners with a big project and they personally invited me to their private Christmas party. At their house,” he explained. “If I say no, I’ll look like the world’s biggest asshole…”

“As opposed to…?”

Derek shot him a bitch face and Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Seriously, dude. I still don’t know how you convinced them that you were a nice guy,” he commented, turning his attention back to the research that he’d been doing before Derek had so rudely interrupted him.

Something had been hunting the local pets in the area and Stiles had narrowed it down to a few supernatural beings. Being the Hale pack’s emissary wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The pack still had him pulling all nighters to help them out, on top of his normal job, which was working out of the new local FBI offices. When he’d finally finished his training, he’d put in a request and they had gladly let him set up a new office just outside of Beacon Hills. Anything for the new wunderkid agent who was making the agents back in D.C. look bad.

When he’d finally gotten back home, however, he discovered that Derek had returned back, as well, and with a degree in architecture, which was downright baffling to him because he had assumed that when the man had disappeared back in the Mexican desert that he’d gone off to do werewolf stuff…apparently, not so much. From what he had gleaned through secondhand information, Derek had gone off to New York and settled in and gotten his degree at NYU.

To think that they had both been on the east coast at the same time, only an hour and a half train ride away from each other for nearly five years…Stiles sometimes wondered if Derek had known that he was in D.C. but hadn’t cared enough to do anything about it.

And then Stiles had found out that the man was an alpha again. That had thrown him for a loop.

When he’d gotten back, he’d found out that Deaton was planning on leaving, so Stiles had used up all of his spare time picking his brain about what it meant to be an emissary, and suddenly found himself with a second job when Derek had asked him in the most formal way possible if he was willing to be the pack’s emissary.

He’d said yes.

And then Erica and Boyd had rolled back into town after hearing that Derek was back and an alpha, yet again, despite having left back in junior year when things had gone to hell in a handbasket around Beacon Hills. And Derek had himself a little pack consisting of those two, Isaac, and a new kid named Liam, who Isaac was incredibly protective over.

So now Stiles was living back at home in his old room with his dad, just like in high school, and Derek was still breaking in through his window.

Considering that they were both adults, it was more than a little bit weird. But, at the same time, it was familiar and safe, so he kind of enjoyed it. Despite being twenty-four years old and still living at home, his dad let him keep whatever hours he wanted and he and came and went as he pleased…and Derek still couldn’t use the front door.

“Look,” Derek said, sounding tired, “They said I could bring a date and I told them that I would bring you, and they all…”

When his voice suddenly dropped off, Stiles looked over at him, trying to figure out why the heck Derek looked guilty as hell. He was now looking at the floor and had shoved his hands so deep into his pockets that Stiles was certain that they were about to rip at the seams.

“They what, Derek?” he prompted him.

He finally looked back up at him.

“They’ve apparently all assumed that you’re my boyfriend because I’ve talked about you so much.” Stiles’ eyebrow shot up and he opened his mouth to say something, but then Derek cut him off with an eyeroll and said, “Look, I talk about you because you’re our pack’s emissary, but I can’t tell them that, so they get a highly edited version of my weekend events and your name comes up a lot, and they all just assumed, and please don’t make this any harder than this is for me.”

He was sorely tempted to make fun of him, but he instead withheld the impulse and licked his lips and said, “If I say yes, what will I be expected to do at this party?”

Derek huffed, but then answered, “I don’t know…act…boyfriend-like. Do whatever it is couples do, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders and Stiles took some perverse pleasure at seeing how uncomfortable he was, but also felt a faint twinge of regret. “Hold hands, kisses on the cheek, pet names…stuff like that.”

The picture he gave him was one that Stiles had secretly wanted for years. He’d fallen for him back in high school but had known that someone as gorgeous and amazing as Derek was way out of his league, even more so considering his werewolf status and all of his abilities. He consistently attracted older women to him and so Stiles knew that he would never have a chance, but it was nice to know that Derek had talked about him enough at work and in such a way that his coworkers thought that Stiles was his boyfriend.

He thought about torturing him a bit longer, but instead capitulated and said, “Sure, why not. When and where is it?”

Derek’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Next weekend. I’ll pick you up Saturday night, don’t worry about it.”

“Dress code?”

Derek gave him another look.

“Uh…don’t know. I’ll find out. Just…thank you, Stiles,” he said, and the emissary nodded, keeping his emotions in check, even though he kinda wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was going on a date with Derek Hale. So, what if it was a fake date, it was better than nothing.

Derek moved to leave through the window, and Stiles couldn’t help but say, “Does that mean I can call you Der Bear?”

He heard him growl as he dropped to the ground and he laughed.

Yeah, this was gonna be fun.

--

“So, I hear you and Derek are going out on a date,” said Erica as she sprawled out on his office couch, kicking her legs out behind her as she lay on her stomach, staring intently at her nails as Stiles finished up a report for the head office, thoroughly entrenched in getting through it before he called it quits and went to lunch, which was the reason why she was there.

“It’s not a real date, it’s just to keep his coworkers off his back,” he said, still staring at his screen as he typed.

She let out a snort, rolled over to her back and shot him a look.

“Yeah, fake, right. You do know that Mr. Grumpycat has been pining after you for years, now, right?” she shot back at him and Stiles shook his head, knowing better than to take anything of what she said as serious. “He’s been all broody and serious ever since you came back to Beacon Hills,” she complained.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“So, no different than usual, then?” he couldn’t help but retort, flipping a page on the papers that he was referencing as he wrote his report.

But at that, Erica sat back up, her hair spilling around her shoulders in that effortless way that most models would kill for and gave him a look and said, “Actually, before you showed up, he seemed to have really changed. He was wearing more normal clothes, like sweaters and stuff, not a leather jacket to be seen. He was even smiling more, acting like a person, you know?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It was like seeing the human side of him for once. But then you showed up and he becomes all Broody McBrooderson again…”

Stiles sighed, though slightly amused at her description of the alpha, but ignored her just long enough so that he could finish his report, and then stood up, reached over and grabbed his coat and said, “Can we just go to lunch?”

She rolled her eyes at him a second time, but then smiled.

“Fine. Lunch it is.”

And with that they walked out arm in arm from his office, and Stiles smirked when he saw a few of the other agents sneak glances at her, most of them unaware of the fact that she was taken. He was fairly certain that quite a few of them thought that Erica was his girlfriend, but he didn’t really care.

She wore her skinny jeans, thigh high black boots, and her usual too-tight low-cut top with a leather jacket thrown over it for good measure. Stiles looked like a worn-out door to door salesman next to her in his rumpled suit, but he didn’t mind. Ever since he had come back, the two of them had bonded in a way that Stiles had always wished they had and now she was like the best friend that he’d never had…she had even beat out his old best friend, Scott. Scott had left Beacon Hills to go to vet school and, according to his mom, he wasn’t coming back.

He still kept in touch with him, but it was sort of an unspoken understanding between the two of them that Scott wanted nothing more to do with the goings-on of Beacon Hills and the supernatural drama that came with it. Stiles was fine with that, and still kept in close contact with Melissa…who had been spending a suspicious amount of time with his dad, recently.

He didn’t want to think about it too much, so he turned his attention to Erica as they sat down in the booth at the diner and ordered their usual. As soon as their food arrived, he changed the subject.

“So…how’s Boyd doing?”

At the question, she lit up and Stiles smiled as she began to jabber away.

“Oh my god, he’s doing so good. Ever since he found that job at the hospital as an orderly, he’s been doing so good. He really loves helping people, you know?” she said with a bright smile, dipping one of her fries into her milkshake and taking a bite. “I’m still working on trying to finish my GED, which is a serious pain in the ass, but as soon as I get it, I’m looking into becoming a volunteer counselor at the youth center,” she admitted, sounding a bit shy as she did, and Stiles smiled.

She was amazing with teenagers, especially the girls, and Stiles thought it was a perfect fit for her.

“I’m happy for the two of you,” he said, completely sincere. He didn’t have any romantic prospects, male or female, but he was okay with it. He was just happy to see his friends finally happy.

Erica gave him another blinding smile…but then it turned devious as she said, “So…this ‘fake’ date that you and Derek are having. I hear it’s for the private Christmas party that he was invited to, right?” Stiles groaned, but she didn’t let up. “I bet there’s gonna be mistletoe there. I don’t care what it takes, you need to drag that boy under it and get it on with him already!”

He threw a french fry at her, but she caught it between her teeth and continued to grin at him.

Finally, he said, “I’m not dragging him anywhere, let alone towards something that could potentially kill him. Look, I know you think that he likes me, too, but trust me when I say that it’s barely concealed annoyance. At best.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious! I mean, when he asked me to be emissary, of course I said yes, but that’s all I am to him. I am a tool that helps keep the pack safe and that’s it, Erica. That’s all it’s ever going to be. And I’m fine with that, seriously. I love being someone that can help the pack, the person that you guys can turn to when the going gets rough. Hell, that’s why I joined the FBI,” he added, eating one of his own fries.

She arched an eyebrow at him, and he could see the look all over her face.

“Stiles. He likes you. As in, he likes likes you.”

He gave her a look right back and said, “Oh, so we’re reverting to middle school terms, now? What next? You gonna hand me note from him that says, ‘do you like me? Check yes or no’?”

She rolled her eyes and practically pouted as she said, “Look, he’s my alpha and I can tell when he’s not acting right and ever since you came back his scent gets all weird whenever you’re around or any time that he’s thought that you might be in trouble, and Isaac and Liam have both been worried about him, too,” she admitted, and Stiles was taken off guard by the naked honesty in her tone.

He licked his lips, put down the burger that he was about to take a bite of and said, “You…you’re serious?”

She nodded.

“Yeah. So…don’t fuck this up, okay? He may act like you’re just doing him a favor, going to the Christmas party and all, but I know that this means a lot to him,” she muttered, picking at the edge of the table, chipping off a piece of the flaking formica with one perfectly manicured fingernail. “He acts all tough around you, and only you, and I may not know why…but I know that he has feelings for you, Stiles. So, don’t fuck this up.”

He took a deep breath…but then nodded. At that, she seemed to relax, and they went back to their lunch, him talking about his research on the creature that was going after the local pets (most likely a lamia, though he had no idea how it had made its way to Beacon Hills), and Erica chiming it about the online college classes that both Isaac and Liam were taking, and how the additions onto the Hale house were coming. According to Erica, both of the boys wanted their own rooms, but Derek was insisting that they share because he was not adding two bedrooms.

By the time they were done, and Erica was walking him back to his office, he was feeling a bit better.

She lightly squeezed his waist before she left and whispered into his ear right before lightly pecking his cheek, “Don’t fuck it up.”

He snorted and hugged her right back and returned the gesture.

“I’ll try not to,” he replied with a fake put-upon look, and she gave him a wry smile in return before turning around and heading back down the street.

--

It was the day before the Christmas party, and Stiles was running through the backyard of Mrs. Newton’s house in the middle of the night, trying his hardest to not get caught by the nosy old lady who had a tendency to spy on her neighbors through her back windows. He had found the lamia. Which wasn’t a lamia. Instead, it was a rogue were-coyote, and Stiles was looking like an idiot with dirt-stained jeans with the left leg completely soaked through. He had almost cornered it a few houses down, near a bird bath in someone else’s backyard, but then it had bolted at the last second and he now had a ruined pair of pants.

He panted, trying to catch his breath. Sure, he was fitter than he used to be, but he’d been chasing it for over an hour at that point.

Bent over at the waist, still catching his breath, Stiles begrudgingly pulled out his small pouch of mountain ash, hating that he had to use it, but knowing that it was necessary.

“Okay, you little fucker,” he muttered, pulling out the smallest amount needed because he hated wasting it. “I’m going to track you properly and find your goddamn den if it’s the last thing I do, because you are seriously ruining my night.”

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and then let out a trickle of it from between his first finger and thumb…and let out a sigh of relief as it glowed slightly and drifted in a straight line back through the backyards until it headed for the woods. He followed it, letting out small amounts each time he ran out of glowing ash to follow, and was grateful that he’d decided to wear his boots as he ended up going deep into the woods just beyond the Hale property.

He followed it to a small den where he found a young boy, no more than ten, curled up back in the corner of his roughshod den. He was wearing only a small pair of blue shorts, the rest of his body covered in dirt and grime, and small bones littered the ground around him; what was left of the pets.

He seemed to be shaking, so Stiles gently reached out with one hand and said, “Hey, kid, I’m not here to hurt you…are you just hungry?” he asked and was taken aback when bright gold eyes snapped up to meet his.

The boy then nodded.

Making a quick decision, Stiles helped him out of his den and put his own jacket around the boy’s shoulders and walked him back to his house.

As soon as he’d settled him down, gotten him into some clean clothes and gotten him some food, he started to feel less anxious. However, just as the kid (Lance, he had told him in a voice barely above a whisper) was finally settled, he heard the front door open, so he quickly went to cut off whoever it was…and his eyes went wide when he saw that it was Derek.

“Where is he?” the alpha growled, his eyes flashing red, and Stiles stopped him with a hand on his chest, and said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, big guy! It’s not what you think! It’s a kid!” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder, trying to keep his voice down, unsure of how much the young were-coyote could hear. “His name’s Lance and he’s only around ten and he was only going after people’s pets because it was easier for him to hunt and get food…I think he’s been abandoned…”

Stiles watched as Derek went from full-metal-alpha to suddenly looking worried, his brow furrowed and his eyes glancing back towards where he could obviously smell the kid was, back in the kitchen.

“Abandoned? Who would do that to a kid?”

“Some pretty shitty people, that’s who,” Stiles replied, noticing how Derek’s entire body language had shifted from attack-mode to protective-alpha mode.

He went silent and watched as Derek seemed to be listening in on the kid and then couldn’t help but ask, “So…sense anything wrong with him?” and Derek shook his head and answered, “No, just…he smells like anxiety. I think he’s been alone a long time. But he only just got here. He doesn’t smell like the preserve,” he commented. “More like…diesel.”

At that, Stiles nodded and said, “Probably sneaking onto long-distance hauling trucks. Easy to hide on and gets you plenty of miles away from a previous hunting ground. Smart kid.”

Derek nodded as well, and they stood there for a moment in the front foyer, Stiles’ hand still on Derek’s chest. He seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled it back, rubbing it on the thighs of his jeans, and then Derek looked at him, gave him a once over, and he snorted.

“What happened to you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I was chasing after a were-coyote in the middle of the night and a birdbath accosted me, that’s what happened,” he quipped, just remembering the clinging wetness of the left side of his jeans. He absently tugged at it and said, “Gotta say, that kid is fast. Faster than you, that’s for sure,” he added, knowing it would irritate the alpha.

True to form, Derek gave him a look, his equivalent of a bitch-face, and Stiles smirked, but then asked him on a more serious note, “Hey, can you watch after him? I’ll introduce you two, but I need to go upstairs and change because this is starting to seriously chafe…”

Derek nodded, and Stiles walked back into the kitchen with the alpha right behind his shoulder and cautiously approached the table, silently grateful that his dad was on the night shift.

“Hey, Lance…this is Derek. He’s a werewolf, he’s an alpha, and he’s my friend,” he softly explained, putting his hand carefully in front of the bowl of cereal that he was eating. “I don’t want to leave you alone, just yet, so would it be okay if he spends some time with you while I go and change out of these wet and dirty clothes?”

Lance looked back up at him with his now hazel eyes, his gaze slightly confused, and nodded.

“Okay, then.”

He motioned for Derek to sit down across from him and went upstairs and quickly stripped out of his ruined clothes and hopped into the shower. He cleaned out the grime, rinsed off as best he could, and as soon as he was out of the shower, before he had even put on any clothes, he threw a towel around his waist and went and checked the missing persons database on his work laptop, putting in the first name Lance and looking for kids around his age. He couldn’t have come from nowhere.

While it searched, he threw on sweats, an academy shirt, and ran his fingers through his hair, drying it as best he could, ignoring the fact that his stomach had flipped when he’d seen Derek look at the kid with such soft affection that it had made his heart ache.

God, he’d be a great dad.

His computer dinged, and he hopped over on one foot, pulling a sock over the other one, and squinted as he looked at the information that had popped up onto the screen.

Lance Santiago. Thirteen years old, missing for the last nine months ago from Ogunquit, Maine. Parents murdered in a home invasion, no other living relatives.

Swallowing around the knot that had formed in his throat, Stiles pulled up the police report from the home invasion and closed his eyes for a brief second at what he saw on the screen in front of him…and then opened them again and made himself look at the crime scene photos in the way that the academy had trained him to.

Each of their necks had been viciously ripped open, and the coroner’s report had said that the intruders had used several different tools to make the marks, but he knew what they really were: they were from the claws of a werewolf. And the kid had apparently witnessed the whole thing, but then had inexplicably escaped from the foster home that they had put him in. They had tried to find him for the first three months, but then had given up, and now he was here, in Beacon Hills.

He let out a long sigh and headed back downstairs and stilled in the doorway to the kitchen…

Derek was flicking pieces of cereal in Lance’s face and Lance was smiling and laughing and throwing cereal right back at him while Lance was talking in rapid-fire Spanish and Stiles was baffled when Derek was speaking fluently right back at him, grinning almost the entire time. The alpha had taken off his jacket and thrown it over the back of his chair and sat there in just a dark red sweater with the sleeves rolled up, eyes sparkling, lips effortlessly wrapping around the foreign syllables, while Sam chattered excitedly right back at him.

It was like something out of a movie.

He watched them for a moment longer and then said, “Hey, you two, quit making a mess,” and Lance looked up, wide-eyed, but Derek just shook his head and said, “It’s no worse than what you do.”

The kid still seemed scared for a moment, but then Derek reached out his hand and put it on his shoulder and said, “Está bien, Lance. Está bien.”

He then stood up and walked over to Stiles and said in a low voice as they both moved closer to the fridge, away from the table, “He knows some English, but not much. I can speak with him, fine, and he seems to trust me. So, if it’s easier for you and your dad, he can stay with me and the pack, if you’d like.”

Okay, so maybe Stiles just fell a little bit more in love with the man.

He nodded.

“It’s a good idea but be careful. I found him on file, and he’s gone through a pretty bad trauma. If anyone can help, though, it’d be you guys,” he conceded, though a little wary to have him out of his sight for too long, the kid’s dark brown hair flopping into his eyes and reminding Stiles of just how young and vulnerable he was.

He then looked at Derek and said, “Uh, when did you learn Spanish, by the way?”

Derek ducked his eyes, not quite meeting them, and said, “Uh, I, uh…I started to learn as a kid. Mom and dad insisted. I kept up with it over the years, mainly because of the other packs down south, but…yeah. It comes in handy a lot.”

He seemed thoroughly embarrassed at being put on the spot, so Stiles dragged his eyes away from him, looked back over at Lance who was finally finishing his cereal, and asked, “Think the pack will like him?”

The alpha smiled.

“When we were talking, I found out he loves Star Wars. I think he and Isaac and Liam will get along really well. Boyd is more of a Trekkie, but they’ll get along,” he said, looking at the kid with a soft, almost find look. “It seems we’ve got another mouth to feed for Christmas.” As he said that, however, his eyes went wide and he said, “Oh, shit. The party. Tomorrow night.”

“Well, tonight, really,” Stiles supplied, looking at the time on the microwave. Two-thirty-six in the morning.

Derek rolled his head on his neck and said, “I don’t want the kid to have his first night with the pack all alone, I shouldn’t do that to him. I can call Erik and tell him that I can’t come to the--”

“Hold up there, big guy,” Stiles interjected, putting a hand to his shoulder. “You have to go to that thing, and you know it. They personally invited you, and, as much as even I hate to say it, you need to make good with these guys so that they can see just how valuable you are. You’ve got a pack to feed, buddy, and even if you do already have a shit ton of money, I know you care about this job, and I think Lance can handle one night alone with the pack. It’s a Friday night, right? They can order in a few pizzas, watch some movies…he’ll probably feel more comfortable around some weres closer to his own age, anyway,” he added, trying to make Derek see sense.

Derek looked at the kid and then back at Stiles. And then back at the kid, who was now looking at the two of them with those wide, hazel eyes of his, his brow slightly furrowed as if he was trying to understand what they were saying about him. Derek looked at Stiles one last time.

He then walked over to Lance and said something in Spanish that Stiles didn’t catch, Lance said something back to him, and then they both smiled.

Derek grabbed his jacket from where he left it and then said, “Okay, that settles it. I’m taking him back to the house for the night, he’s going to spend the day with the pack…and then I am coming over to pick you up at seven, Stiles.”

He then threw him a smile and said, “By the way, it’s dressy casual…but don’t wear the reindeer tie, please, I beg of you,” and Stiles grinned.

“But it goes with everything, Derek!”

He rolled his eyes and lightly tugged on Lance’s shoulder, who followed him to the front door. Stiles gave the kid’s shoulder one last squeeze and then watched as the two of them walked down the road, heading off in the direction of the Hale house. It was a good fit for him, Stiles thought to himself, wondering how he was going to deal with the fact that Derek was obviously already attached to the kid. Lance needed to not have anyone looking for him…and Stiles might have a solution for that.

Chapter 2

After getting four hours of sleep, Stiles was back down in the kitchen rifling through the cabinets, this time with his dad giving him judgmental looks over the edge of his newspaper.

“You’re telling me you went after a were-coyote on your own last night?” he said in a tone that Stiles was all too familiar with.

“Yes, but I wasn’t in any danger, pops,” he griped, finally finding the pop-tarts, ignoring the second judgmental look that he got as he pulled one out of the foil and took a bite out of it. “This kid is thirteen years old and no danger to people, he was just hungry, alright? The pets were easy hunting.”

The sheriff put down the paper, reached for his coffee and asked, “You say he’s been missing for nine months?”

Stiles nodded as he dropped into the chair across from him.

“Yeah. No family to speak of, just…a lot of horrible trauma.” His dad nodded. “I’m just glad that we found him first before anyone else did. Derek and his pack are a good fit for him, right now,” he thought out loud. “If anyone’s going to be able to help Lance figure out how to deal with it all, it’ll be those four and Derek.”

His dad nodded, took a long sip of his coffee and then said, “So, he’s staying with Derek and the pack. That’s good, I guess, but it’s not a permanent solution, you know that, right?”

Stiles gave his dad a look and reached across and stole a sip of his dad’s coffee, ignoring the glare that he gave him as he did.

“Yeah, I know it’s not a solution, but don’t worry about it, I’m already looking into what I can do,” he explained, handing his father’s coffee back to him, pushing it across the table. “I looked into the criminal file of what happened to his parents and it looks like they never even had any suspects for the murders, and if I let him go back, he’ll just end up with a foster family who doesn’t know about the supernatural and I can’t do that to the kid. I figure both of his parents were just like he is, and so the attack was most likely something personal, which means that there’s a werewolf out there looking to hunt this kid down and kill him. Lance most likely only got away because of how fast he is. I don’t think even Derek could keep up with him, even if he wanted to,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling worn out and wishing he could figure out how to help him.

They shared a look, both of them aware of just how hard it was going to be for the kid unless they could make sure that he was safe. So, Stiles came to decision that he would warn the pack that someone might be tracking the kid, even with everything that he’d done to get away from the werewolf that had killed his parents.

Stiles pulled another pop-tart out of the packet and took a bite, and then said, with his mouth full, “By the way, going to a Christmas party with Derek tonight, so don’t wait up,” and at that, his dad’s brow shot up and he threw him a smirk.

“You and Derek, huh?” he drawled, taking another sip of his coffee, and Stiles rolled his eyes and stood back up, saying, “Oh, don’t you start, pops. It’s not like that. Derek’s coworkers are convinced that I’m his boyfriend because he’s always talking about me because of the time we spend together on the weekends with my emissary duties. Complaining, mostly. He can’t exactly tell them the truth, so he’s been dragged into taking me to the party as his date. It’s not real, it’s just to keep the higher ups happy.”

His dad nodded, not saying anything more, but Stiles could see the faint humor that still lingered on the corner of his lips and he knew that his dad was probably going to be laughing about the situation for a long time, getting a kick out of his seeing his son like this.

He shrugged it off and went and got dressed and headed off to the office.

As soon as walked inside, Agent Katherine Richards greeted him with a coffee and a cheery, “Morning, Agent Stilinski!”

“For the last time, Katie, if you don’t start calling me Stiles, I’m going to put you on filing duty for the next two weeks,” he playfully griped, grabbing the coffee that she gave to him every single morning without fail. He then yawned as he asked, “Now, did you get me a copy of that file that I e-mailed you about this morning?”

She gave him a look and said, “You mean that e-mail that you sent me at five am? Yeah, I did, and you’re welcome,” she said with an arch tone, tossing it onto his desk as they both walked into his office. “Let’s just say that the local authorities in Maine don’t like it when someone from the FBI wants their files for a case that they couldn’t solve. Something about it making them look bad, I guess,” she mused, leaning her hip against his desk and throwing him a knowing grin. “Why’d you want it?”

Knowing he could trust her, he said, “I found the kid.”

Her eyes went wide.

“You mean the kid who saw who killed his parents? He’s the only witness, Stiles! Where did you find him?”

He trusted her, but not that much, so he avoided answering by instead saying, “That’s not important, what’s important is that he’s safe and secured and we don’t have to worry about him right now. Now, I need to make sure that I am out of here by five today, because I have to go and be a fake boyfriend for a friend of mine,” he explained and was amused when Katie’s eyes lit up.

“Fake boyfriend?” she repeated, her tone sounding all too eager. “Oooh, is it for that girl that you have lunch with a couple of times a week? The stunning blonde with legs for days that looks like she should be walking a Victoria’s Secret runway?”

Stiles chuckled at that apt description of Erica, knowing she would love it, but shook his head.

“No, no, not her. She’s already got a boyfriend,” he quickly said. “This is for my friend, Derek. He got dragged into it and so I’m trying to help make it a little easier on him,” he explained, already turning his attention to the file that she’d given him.

Katie gave him a look…and then said in a carefully measured tone, “Is this the Derek that you mentioned before?”

Stiles glared up at her, annoyed with himself for forgetting that he’d mentioned the alpha more than a few times to his own coworkers, and said, “Yes, it’s that Derek. No, we’re not actually dating, and no, it’s not anything serious. I’m just covering his ass for his bosses,” to which she retorted, “Yeah, I bet you’re covering his ass.”

“Excuse me?”

She laughed and the patted the file that she put on his desk and said, “As fun as this conversation has been, don’t think you’ve distracted me from this, Stiles. While I am incredibly curious about this Derek guy, I am not forgetting that you just found the key witness in a brutal murder that has yet to be solved. You’ll bring me in if you need help, right?” she asked, looking and sounding genuinely concerned, and Stiles nodded and patted her hand.

“I promise, Agent Richards.”

With that, she left the room, and Stiles went back to his work. He dug through the file to figure out exactly who to contact and how to keep everything intact so that they wouldn’t find out…while also keeping a close eye on the time, making sure that he didn’t work too hard. He needed to be able to leave by five so that he would be ready to go by seven.

Of course, things didn’t go as planned. He shot off a quick message to the pack, did some paperwork, and then the next thing he knew, he was looking at the clock and it said six thirty and he was twenty minutes from home.

Shit.

Slipping the file into his bag, he ran out of the building, shouting a quick, “See you tomorrow!” over his shoulder as he did, and probably broke a couple of laws as he raced home, trying to figure out how many he could get away with breaking to make sure that he had enough time to shower.

He ran into his house as quickly as he could, grateful that his dad had already left for his night shift about an hour before, and then scrambled up the stairs and threw his bag onto his desk and looked into his closet helplessly, trying to figure just what the hell dressy casual was.

However, before he could even look in his closet, let alone get a shower like he’d originally planned, he heard a knock at the front door.

Shit.

He turned and ran back down the stairs and as he swung the door open, the first words out of his mouth were, “Please, please, please don’t be mad, but I am not dressed, yet, I only just got home, and…why are you looking at me like that?”

Derek was staring at him, mouth slightly open, looking like he was struggling to catch his breath. Stiles looked down at himself, trying to see what was wrong, wondering if he had dropped food or coffee on himself earlier in the day without noticing, but only saw his usual work clothes: a white dress shirt, the top couple of buttons undone, his rumpled black pants and jacket, military issued FBI boots, along with his shoulder holster, which was slightly askew because he’d already removed his weapon, and he was baffled as to why Derek was staring at him.

“Uh, Derek?” he said, snapping his fingers, and the alpha shook his head and said, “Yeah, I’m…you’re fine. What you’re wearing is just fine.”

Stiles looked back down at himself a second time, baffled, and then looked at what Derek was wearing and couldn’t help but smile and say as he noticed his outfit, “And you are looking like a dad going to a PTA meeting, oh my god, are you wearing loafers?” he exclaimed, unable to stifle a giggle as he saw the black leather on the man’s feet. Derek rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, Stiles kept going.

“Not only loafers, but you’re wearing a belt that matches them, and is that a tailored sport coat that doesn’t quite match your pants with a pink shirt? Dude,” he put his hand on his shoulder, “I thought someone like you with a ton of money would be wearing Armani or something. But this…?”

He gestured up and down at his outfit and Derek glared at him, no longer staring at Stiles’ clothes and bit out, “I’m not Peter, I don’t care about expensive clothes. Now, get your ass in my car so we can go already. Like I said, what you’re wearing is fine. Though you might want to lose the shoulder holster,” he added, looking at his shoulder distractedly.

Stiles glanced down and shrugged, stepped back into the hallway to take off the holster and grab his phone and house keys, and then followed Derek out to his car. He still had the Camaro.

As soon as they had pulled out onto the main road, he asked, “So…Erik’s your boss, right?”

Derek nodded, eyes focused on the road.

“Yep. Good man, great architect. His partner’s name is Geoff, and they’ve been running the architecture firm for over fifteen years now. And they’re looking to take on a third partner,” he added lightly, and Stiles knew exactly what he meant.

“So, tonight is about showing off how amazing you are?” he said, trying to ease the tension that he could feel coming from him, but then saw his hands tighten on the wheel, so he quickly backpedaled with, “I’m not going to make fun of you tonight, Derek, I promise. I mean, I knew this was kind of serious, but I had no idea that you were trying to make partner. Now that I know, I will make sure to be on my best behavior, no matter what. Only good things, I promise.”

Derek’s fingers released their death grip on the wheel and Stiles breathed out a sigh of relief. Now that he knew just how serious he was about the evening, he quickly put aside any thoughts that he had of telling some of the man’s more embarrassing stories, instead focused on how he could show his bosses just how amazing he was.

When they pulled up the driveway to the house, Stiles let out a low whistle.

“Holy shit, they got money,” he said, slightly awed at the large, A-frame cabin that stretched out into one of those cabin McMansions that he’d only ever seen on Hallmark movies.

Derek nodded, pulled up behind a black Rolls Royce, and put the Camaro in park and then let out a long, nervous breath, glancing up at the windows of the house apprehensively. From where they sat, Stiles could hear the faint strains of holiday music on piano and could see the glimmer of Christmas lights in the windows. He watched as Derek swallowed, looking more nervous than he’d ever seen him before, so Stiles reached out and put his hand over his, trying to calm him down.

Derek’s eyes suddenly dropped to where Stiles had his fingers wrapped around his…and then took another breath and lightly squeezed his hand.

“Okay. I can do this,” he said, still sounding nervous, and Stiles corrected him, “We can do this, Der. Trust me. I’m going to be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

At that, the tension was broken and the alpha chuckled and shook his head and said, “Yeah, well you better, or else I’m gonna make your life a living hell. Now,” he squeezed his hand a second time, “How about we go on inside? Honey.”

Stiles let out a sound that was close to a laugh and gave him a fake, sweet look and said, “Of course, Der Bear.”

Derek groaned and Stiles grinned.

They pulled apart long enough to get out of the car, and then Stiles plastered himself to Derek’s side, tucking his right arm through Derek’s left and leaned into him as much as he could, enjoying every single second of being able to touch Derek as much as he’d always wanted to.

Just before they walked through the front door, though, Derek turned his head just enough to look Stiles in the eye and said, “You ready to be affectionate with me? ‘Cause as soon as we walk in there, they are going to be expecting us to act like a couple. So…you going to be okay with that?” and Stiles scoffed, arched an eyebrow at him and said, “Dude, listen to my heartbeat as I say these words: this is the best idea that you’ve ever come up and I can’t wait to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

He watched in amusement as Derek’s eyes widened at hearing the honesty and Stiles grinned and said, “Now take me inside, honeybuns.”

Derek laughed and pulled the door open, moving out of Stiles’ grip so that he could put his hand on his lower back to usher him through the door ahead of him, and Stiles preened under the intimate touch, wishing with all of his heart that it was real.

Erica’s words echoed in his head… I know he has feelings for you, Stiles. So, don’t fuck this up.

He swallowed, feeling his first twinge of nervousness.

He could do this.

The foyer alone was intimidating. The ceilings were, of course, vaulted, and swept up nearly twenty feet. He let Derek move him to the main room, where a whole lot of people in dressy clothes mingled. Before Stiles could take it all in, however, a man in a dark blue sport coat with a nicely trimmed beard walked over to them and said in a loud, friendly voice, “Hale! So glad you made it!” and then reached out and pulled Derek into a half hug.

Stiles watched in amusement as Derek tried to return it, though it was obvious to him that he was uncomfortable with it, patting him on the shoulder and saying, “Thanks for inviting me, Erik.”

Suddenly, Erik pulled back and said, “Oh, right, I forgot…no hugs. Sorry about that, just caught up in the holiday cheer. Is this the boyfriend we’ve heard so much about?” he asked, pointing at Stiles with the glass in his hand, looking curious.

Before Derek could say a word, Stiles stepped forward and said, “Stiles Stilinski, pleased to meet you.”

Erik gave him a solid handshake, looked him up and down and then looked back over at Derek and said, “You have good taste, Hale. Also,” he turned his attention back to Stiles, “Pleased to meet you. Feel free to tell us as many embarrassing stories about this man as possible. He’s so closed-lipped around the office, it’s a miracle that we even knew that he had a boyfriend. Of course,” he said giving a short chuckle, “That wasn’t too hard to figure out considering how much he talked about you.”

He lifted his glass to him in acknowledgement and Stiles couldn’t help but share a smile and say, “Yeah, well, not too surprised. I am a big part of his life, after all,” and gave Derek a shit-eating grin.

Derek just shook his head and reached over and gently tugged at his hand and Stiles found it remarkably easy to fall in next to him and let him lead him into the rest of the room, where he was introduced to at least twenty different people in under ten minutes, and he was pretty proud of the fact that he could remember all of their names.

Part of his training as an FBI agent was to be able to hold onto a lot of information in a short amount of time, and it was finally coming in handy.

Eventually, he let himself be split off from Derek and watched with a fond smile as Erik and Geoff flanked him on either side and started to talk with him in hushed tones, both of them smiling, while Derek attempted to smile, though he still looked like he had just been thrown into the lion’s den.

Stiles stifled a laugh at the sight, took a sip of the apple cider in his hand, and was taken off guard when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You must be Stiles, the boyfriend,” a feminine voice said, turning him around, and he found himself levelling his eyes at a lovely woman wearing a dark violet dress, and thick blonde hair spilled over shapely shoulders, showing off her stunning warm complexion and blue eyes. “I’m Jane Caruso, I work in Interior Design at the firm. My desk is right across from Derek’s,” she said, and Stiles could see the way that she was assessing him, a sharp glint in her eye as she looked him up and down.

He took another sip of his drink, making her wait for his response, putting her on the defensive (using his FBI training, yet again) and saw her shift uncomfortably as she waited for him to speak.

Finally, he said, “Yeah, I’m the boyfriend,” and extended his hand and gave her a polite handshake.

Not missing a beat, she held his hand for a moment longer than necessary and then leaned in and, glancing at him and then shooting a look over at Derek as she asked conspiratorially, “So, how the hell did someone like you snag a specimen like him?”

Without hesitation, he pulled his hand back and replied, “Oh, we’ve known each other since high school,” and then looked down at his drink, smirked, and the looked back up at her and said, as if he was embarrassed (though far from it), “Actually, I was the one in high school. I was sixteen, he was twenty…things really didn’t start until after I graduated, of course, but…you know how these things go,” he finished, taking another sip of the cider, enjoying the way her eyes widened and she leaned slightly away from him.

He had to withhold a laugh when Jane then said, sounding completely off-balance, “Oh, that’s…so you two have known each other a long time, then.”

He nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, when we first met, we hated each other. I even got him arrested for something he didn’t do,” he said, laughing, looking over at Derek, knowing that the werewolf could hear every word of his conversation, and could see his jaw twitch, even from a distance, and he bit his lip, wondering how much he could get away with.

“You got him arrested?”

Stiles chuckled and then quickly amended, “Yeah, but I didn’t mean to. My dad can tell you what happened better than I can, anyway,” he said, knowing exactly what she was going to ask next.

“Your dad?” she asked predictably, and Stiles answered, “Yeah, the Sheriff. Noah Stilinski.” He threw her an easy smile, once more pleased at seeing her even more wary of him.

She then took a sip of her own cider and bit her lip…and after a moment she asked, “Son of the sheriff. That sounds like you had a lot of pressure on you growing up in Beacon Hills,” and he nodded, and then she said, obviously trying to throw him off balance once more, “What career path did you follow? Are you a deputy, on your way to follow in your dad’s footsteps?”

Jane then gave him a smug look and Stiles saw her once more eyeing Derek discreetly from the corner of her eye, and he withheld his idiotic grin and managed to maintain an almost bored tone as he answered, “Oh, no, local law enforcement wasn’t for me.” She smirked, looking like she’d won…and then he knocked her down with, “I’m a special agent for the FBI. We just started a new office right outside of Beacon Hills, and I run it with a few select agents. We cover mostly federal cases, but we help out the local law enforcement when they need it.”

He swore she went three shades paler and saw her almost choke on her sip and he shot a glance in his fake boyfriend’s direction and saw him roll his eyes up towards the ceiling, and Stiles knew that Derek was on the edge of coming over and pulling him away from her.

She managed to recover and then say, “You seem rather young for an FBI agent, let alone a special agent.”

He nodded, understanding, and explained, “I got into a training program right out of high school, so I did my schooling and training out at Quantico. Lot of work, but Derek was only a couple of hours away by train at NYU, so we made it work.”

He knew that Derek was still listening and felt a bit bad about saying it, but also thought it was a good reminder to the werewolf that he could have visited him and let him know he was alive.

Sure, it was petty, but ever since Stiles had found out, he’d felt like Derek had deliberately chosen to not contact him and it hurt.

He turned all of his attention to Jane, and gave her a smile as he said, “He’s kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know? I feel really lucky that we found each other when we did. I don’t think I would have gone into the FBI if I’d never met him,” he admitted, knowing that even from that distance, Derek could hear his heartbeat and how steady it was. “After getting him into so much trouble when I was in high school, like, so many times, I realized that I wanted to help innocent people stay out of trouble, so…I became a bit ambitious.”

At that, Jane seemed to soften a bit, giving him a hint of a smile, and then she commented, tapping her finger on the edge of her glass, “He does seem to bring the best out in people.”

Stiles nodded and smiled widely and said, unable to keep the pride from his tone, “He’s a hell of a great guy, and one of the best men I’ve ever known in my life.”

From where he stood, he could see Derek go a bit pink, and he smiled. Jane gave him one last look, said a polite goodbye, and then walked away back into the crowd, leaving Stiles to mingle with everyone else. He felt that he’d done a good job at keeping her at bay, so he turned up his charm as he mingled with the rest of Derek’s coworkers, finding out that a few of them knew Danny through a tech firm that the architects worked with.

Soon, he wasn’t even putting on any airs and was joking back and forth with a guy named Adam who worked security at the building, finding out that they were both die hard fans of DC and Marvel.

Right while they were in the middle of a discussion over the chemistry of Henry Cavill and Ben Affleck (which they both agreed was more than just platonic), Derek was right up behind him slipping an arm around his waist as if he’d done it a thousand times before, saying, “Please don’t tell me you’re talking about how Superman and Batman are gay for each other, again,” and Stiles grinned.

“Oh, we totally were, and we agree that Superman is definitely a bottom,” he admitted, and shared a laughing smile with Adam, who politely tipped his cup towards him and nodded in agreement.

Derek groaned and shook his head.

Stiles then asked, before he forgot, “So, how was it talking with Erik and Geoff?” and Derek let out a long sigh and Adam gave them both a knowing look, nodded and said, “Yeah, those two are intense. Amazingly brilliant, but intense. I’ll leave you two lovebirds, alone. See you at D&D night next Wednesday?” Adam asked as he stepped away, and Stiles nodded.

“Count on it, man!”

Derek shot him a look.

“D&D night? Do I want to know?”

Stiles gently nudged him with is elbow and said, “Dungeons and dragons, you plebe. Found out that they have a group that meets every week on Wednesdays, from seven to ten in the evening, and Danny is a part of it, too, so they invited me. It sounded like fun, so I said yes. Is, uh…is that a bad thing? Me making friends with people at your work?”

Derek opened his mouth as if to say something…but then he closed it.

And then he said, “No, not at all.”

There was a long moment of silence and then Stiles observed, “Uh, you still have your arm around my waist, Der…”

Derek’s eyes went wide, and it seemed that he was about to move, but then he just lightly squeezed Stiles’ hip and muttered, looking down at the cider in his hand, “Yeah, well…people are still here. Watching,” he added unnecessarily, unconsciously moving Stiles closer to him. He bit his lip, making sure not to point out what Derek was doing as he really didn’t want to stop it and wanted to savor the closeness for as long as he could, basking in the physical affection, even if it was fake.

Derek then said, “I noticed that you dealt with Jane. You handled that pretty well,” he said with a grin teasing at the corner of his lips.

Stiles chuckled.

“I totally got your back, Derek. She won’t be bothering you, anymore. Promise.”

He looked across the room, easily spotting her blonde hair and violet dress in the crowd…and made a sound of disbelief in the back of his throat as he saw her flirting with a pretty brunette in a blue dress. He nudged Derek a second time and discreetly pointed her out and snorted at the expression on Derek’s face.

And then he said, “Well…looks like I don’t have to worry about her, after all.”

Stiles laughed and let himself a little bit closer into Derek’s side, knowing that it wasn’t going to last forever. He saw several looks sent in their direction, but all of them were approving, as if they all liked Derek’s choice of boyfriend, and that made Stiles feel warm in his chest and wish even more that it was all real. Even though it wasn’t.

Still, as the evening progressed he became more and more comfortable with the way that he was allowed to reach out and touch the usually taciturn alpha, and he got to see Derek actually smile, and the first few times it was completely disorienting, but then he started to get used to it and was now determined to make sure that he was the one who was always making Derek smile, even if it was only as a friend, because it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

It was really nice to see that most of the people that Derek worked with all seemed to like him, and they all seemed to like Stiles along with him, and it was rather refreshing to not have the usual side-eye that Stiles had seen in the past from people who looked down on ‘alternative’ lifestyles.

Eventually, the evening started to wind down and Stiles was grateful that Erik and Geoff had kept the gathering non-alcoholic, which meant that no one was stumbling outside, and everyone was safe to drive home.

He and Derek were the last two to leave, as it was nearly thirteen thirty, Erik and Geoff leading them to the front door, thanking them both for coming. When Geoff pulled the door open for them, however, Stiles was surprised to see that it was snowing, and that a good inch was already on the ground.

Derek didn’t seem the least bit phased and so Stiles quickly deduced that he’d been aware of it because of his werewolf senses.

“Oh, wow, it’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?” said Geoff, the tall, burly man leaning out the front door and looking up at the snow as it heavily fell, some of it landing on his head. He ducked back in, brushed it off his salt and pepper hair, and then remarked, sounding concerned, “Maybe it’s not all that safe to drive back. Derek, you have a Camaro, right?”

Stiles smiled when Derek nodded and then said politely, “Yes, but don’t worry, I have the snow tires on. I checked the weather before I came over tonight and knew what to expect.”

He then turned to Stiles and leaned in and pressed his lips to his temple and his left hand skated over Stiles’ hip, his thumb absently tracing the inside of his hipbone, an intimate gesture if he’d ever felt one, Stiles thought to himself.

“I’ll go get the car, you wait here,” Derek muttered, giving him a soft smile, and then he disappeared out into the snow-covered blackness, leaving Stiles to wait in the foyer with his two bosses, feeling even more off-kilter than before, butterflies suddenly flapping hard against the inside of his ribs.

Geoff chuckled at him and said, “Oh, I know that look. Totally besotted, am I right?”

Stiles shook his head, ducked his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, and then responded with, “Oh, you know…can’t get enough of him, right?”

Erik smiled and said, “Considering you guys have been together for a while, it’s rather refreshing to see that the spark still seems to be there. Hale’s a great guy, and I can easily see him becoming a more important part of the company down the road.” Stiles heard what he was implying, and he couldn’t help but feel excited for Derek. Erik then added, “He really came through on our last project. He thinks outside of the box and we need that kind of mindset to keep us from getting too stagnant in our work.”

Stiles couldn’t help but comment, “Yeah, that’s Derek, alright. He’s good at seeing new perspectives.”

They both nodded back at him.

Before anything else could be said, Derek had pulled up to the front door and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he bolted out of the car and jogged up the steps to where Stiles stood and offered him his arm. Stiles felt his cheeks warm, and so he quickly followed after him, relieved when he settled warm and only slightly damp into the passenger’s seat.

Derek shifted the car into gear and as he navigated the roads that were just starting to get slippery, Stiles said, “Hey, so, Erik and Geoff pretty much told me without telling me that they’re definitely going to make you a partner at some point,” and was confused when Derek just simply hummed, “Oh, that’s nice,” his gaze still focused on the snow dusted road in front of him, and Stiles did a double take at his reaction, wondering what was going on with him.

What the heck? The whole point of Stiles going with him was to make sure that they made a good impression on the partners, and Derek was acting like he didn’t care.

Trying to get his attention, he reached out and squeezed Derek’s knee, and was amused when all Derek did was take one hand off the wheel to reach down and link his fingers with Stiles’.

He tried to brush it off like it was nothing, even though his heartrate had just jumped up to twice its normal speed, and said, “Not that the hand-holding isn’t great, Der, but…you do realize that we’re not back at the party anymore, right?” and it was rather amusing to see Derek glance down at his leg and then suddenly try to decide whether or not he should let go, and then finally say as he unlinked his fingers and patted Stiles on the back of the hand, “Sorry, just…habit already, I guess.”

At that, Stiles chuckled and couldn’t help but quip, “Aww, only one night and you’re addicted to me? Not that I blame you,” he drawled. “I was an amazing boyfriend, tonight. In fact, according to most of the people I talked to at the party, I am certifiably the best boyfriend ever,” he added, discreetly drawing his hand back over to his side.

Derek rolled his eyes and looked annoyed, but Stiles saw the smile at the corner of his mouth.

Deciding to push it a little bit further, he said, “Doug, the guy who helped with the electrical on your last project, said that you talked about me just a few days ago, saying something about my amazing test scores at the Academy?”

The alpha immediately countered with, “Hey, no, I was talking about how it was a freakin’ miracle that you even got into the Academy! Let’s clarify that,” he added, pointing a finger in the air.

Stiles just shook his head.

“Nah, you like me too much to complain about me,” and Derek bantered back, “Correction: you annoy me enough that I complain about you enough at work that they all think that I’m dating you.”

He laughed a second time and knocked his knee into his door and said, “They probably just think that you sound like an irritated boyfriend. Like, you complain all the time about me, but the way that you complain implies that you actually still really like me…”

His voice drifted, and then Derek said after a long moment, “I was ready to kill you tonight when I heard you tell Jane that you once got me arrested.” Stiles quickly went to defend himself, but then Derek cut him off with, “If I wasn’t so scared of her, I would have walked over there and dragged you out by the back your neck and tossed you out into the snow.”

Stiles snorted.

“I’m sorry, but I just find it hilarious that you, mister werewolf alpha, someone who has stared down an alpha pack and just about all of the scariest creatures that have ever gone bump in the night…are scared of a woman.”

Derek gave him a look, but turned his attention back to the road as he said, “You met Jane, right? She’s worse than an alpha pack all on her own,” and Stiles made a noise of agreement and said, “Okay, okay, no argument there. She was pretty terrifying…but I think I handled her pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

Derek nodded.

“Sure did. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Stiles waved his hand and said, “Ah, don’t mention it. It was kinda fun, actually. Never seen someone go pale so fast in my life, and I’ve intimidated wanted criminals in holding cells. This was definitely more fun,” he said with a grin.

He leaned further back in his seat and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence as Derek drove the rest of the way to his house. Stiles, though still a little bit worried about the snow, found his thoughts drifting to the young were-coyote staying with Derek’s pack, and wondered what they were going to be doing for Christmas, since it was only two days away. He thought about asking, but one glance at Derek’s profile had him questioning himself, so he said nothing.

The Camaro pulled up in front of the house and Stiles glanced at his phone and couldn’t help but say, “Hey, you even got me home before midnight. Such a gentleman.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but the effect was ruined by the way his lips twisted up into a fond smile as he did.

Stiles grinned, feeling smug, but then Derek reached across the seat, his shoulder and upper back pressed firmly into Stiles’ chest as he opened his door for him, and said, “Get out before I toss you and your glass slippers out into the snow, Stilinski.”

Once he felt his heartbeat pick back up (because he was positive that it had stopped when Derek was pressed up against him), he nodded and got out of the car. Before he closed the door, however, he braced his hands against and leaned down and said, “In all honesty, I had a great time tonight, Derek. I’ll gladly be your fake boyfriend anytime you need it, man. Just give me at least a few days’ notice and I’ll be the best fake boyfriend ever.”

Derek gave him a look, using just his eyebrows, and Stiles quickly pulled back.

“Alright, alright! I’m going! Drive safe!”

He slammed the door and then jogged up the front walk and sighed in equal parts relief and disappointment when he closed the front door behind him, leaning against it as soon as he stepped inside.

It had been both the best and worst night of his life. He had been surrounded by Derek’s scent the entire evening, as well as his touch, and the memories of those soft, intimate touches would linger with him for a long time afterwards…but at the same time, it had been a living hell, knowing that the alpha was only doing it because he had made a promise to his bosses.

“God, you royally fucked up this time, didn’t you, Stiles?” he muttered to himself, dragging himself up the stairs to his room.

Just as he stepped inside, however, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Who the hell was texting him at midnight?

He looked at his glowing screen and groaned.

Erica.

He swiped the screen and looked at her message and smiled, despite his annoyance, when he read, did u kiss him under the mistletoe? if u didn’t, I will totally kill u and blame it on Liam. bdubs, the new kid, Lance, is a total sweetheart, but super scared of me…, and in a second text, he likes everyone else, tho, and Stiles’ finger hovered over the screen as he thought about how to answer her.

Finally, he texted back, didn’t kiss him, but there was groping of a sort. glad Lance is getting along with everyone. give him time, he’ll love you, too, I’m sure of it.

He then put his phone down long enough for him to strip down and then flopped on top of his covers in his boxers and the undershirt that he’d worn under his dress shirt all day and that entire evening, settling in for at least a half hour of texting. He could have showered, and probably should have, but he didn’t want to remove the smell of Derek’s cologne, just yet, and he knew that made him come across as weird and possibly slightly creepy, but he didn’t care. He lifted part of the shirt to his face and took a deep breath.

It smelled like pine and woodsmoke, with just a faint hint of spearmint and apple cider. The scent was permanently etched into his memory.

A minute or so later, Erica texted back.

how could u not kiss him??? r u mentally ill?? he dressed up for u!!! he even wore nice smelling stuff, and Stiles snorted at the way she texted. She was a year older than him, and still texted like a thirteen-year-old girl and he found it simultaneously annoying yet endearing.

He waited a moment, trying to figure out what to say, and then typed back, can you just not push it? he was a total gentleman and I helped with a couple of problems. but he doesn’t see me that way, woman, my life is not a hallmark christmas movie, and he smiled at his witty response. He made himself more comfortable on the bed and started to flip through a couple of other apps as he waited for her reply, knowing she would probably blow up at him in spectacular fashion, as she usually did when he pushed her buttons like that.

So, he wasn’t all too surprised when she texted back a few minutes later with, but it *could* be a hallmark christmas movie! just a little nudge and u 2 could be fucking like bunnies in ur childhood bedroom on christmas morning!

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Erica?” he muttered to himself as he finished off the conversation with, thank you so much for that disturbing image of my childhood bed, with that, i am going to bed. night.

His phoned dinged one more time.

Coward.

He rolled his eyes again, but then turned off his phone and settled in to go to sleep. He didn’t have work in the morning, and so he was going to sleep in as late he wanted to.

Chapter 3

He slogged down to breakfast at nearly eleven and his dad shot him an amused look as he poured him a cup of coffee, and then said as he handed it to him, “Late night?”

Stiles heard the tone in his voice and rolled his eyes and said, “For your information, I was back by midnight, and I went to bed shortly after. There was no drinking, just a lot of socializing,” he explained, and then yelped as his dad suddenly took the mug away from him.

“What the hell was that for?” he said, his voice far too high-pitched for his liking, and his dad shot him yet another look and replied, “I only gave it to you because I thought that you were hungover. Since you’re not, you can pour your own coffee,” and then went and sat down at the table with a plate loaded with food that he definitely shouldn’t be eating, but Stiles couldn’t find the energy within himself to argue about it, so he decided to simply ignore it and get on with what was left of his morning.

Just as he was finishing breakfast, his dad asked, “Have you figured out what to do with the kid?”

Stiles let out an aggrieved sigh.

“More or less, yeah.”

He pushed his mug to the side and explained what he had gotten done the day before.

“Instead of trying to go through official channels, I dug through the werewolf leads and think I found who the werewolf was that killed Lance’s parents,” he said, and he saw his dad’s eyes widen in shock that he’d found it out so quickly. Stiles really didn’t want to explain the dirty details, so he waved a hand and said, “Yeah, I know, it’s freaky that I found it out so quick, but let’s just say that emissaries keep track of that sort of thing, and there aren’t that many packs left east of the Rockies, so it wasn’t all that hard to find out.”

He rolled his head on his neck and added, “Ever since Deaton left, he left me a list of emissaries around the country that I could contact should the need arise, and I managed to find out that there isn’t a pack in the northeast…but that there is one just over the border in Canada. So, I did a little bit of searching and think I found the rogue werewolf. His name’s Reynault.”

His dad simply gave him a long look and then said, sounding nervous, “Please don’t tell me you’re going after him yourself,” and Stiles quickly shook his head.

“Oh, hell no. Don’t worry about me, pops. He’s already being tracked by the pack in Tennessee. Talked to Heather, their emissary,” he said, picking at the edge of the table with his thumb, “And she said that they’re closing in on him. Apparently, Reynault is a rogue from a Canadian pack that used to have land that went down into the northeastern part of the U.S. and he is determined to keep it as part of the original land, though no one else from his previous pack approved of it.”

His dad then leaned forward, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug, and said, “Aren’t territory disputes meant for emissaries? Like, what you’re supposed to be doing? I mean, why go after a couple and their kid? They weren’t even werewolves. What’s the logic behind that?”

Stiles let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Werecoyotes’ territory constantly shifts from place to place, unlike werewolves, who settle and put down roots.” He began to motion with his hands, and said, “Usually the packs ignore them because they’re so transitory, nomadic, and tolerate them being on their land without any issues…but Reynault has it in his head that they were infringing on land that belonged to his pack. Apparently, the Quebec pack found out what he did and kicked him out. He didn’t care.”

The silence that stretched between them was tense, and Stiles knew that his dad was about to say something about staying safe.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Kid, I know that you’re an agent in the FBI and an emissary and all that amazing stuff that makes me incredibly proud to be your father, but this…this sounds really, really dangerous.”

Without missing a beat, Stiles said, “That’s why I’m handing it off to the Tennessee pack. Heather, their emissary, is going to help them take care of it. She’s an old hand at this sort of thing, and I trust that she can catch him and put him in his place. They have a good alpha, too. Rachel Heartwood. They’ll find him.”

His dad nodded, and then stood and moved to walk out of the kitchen, but then paused and stood next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and then squeezed it tightly.

“You’re doing good, kid,” he murmured, and then walked out, leaving Stiles with a faint smile on his lips.

They weren’t huge on affection, but Stiles knew how his father showed how much he loved him and that was more than enough. He smiled to himself and then got up and put together a plate from the leftovers of what his dad had already cooked. It was nearly noon, so he considered it a brunch, so he purposely decided to finish off the rest of the bacon so that there was nothing left for his dad. He didn’t need to clog his arteries anymore and Stiles wasn’t going to let him put himself in an early grave.

Just as he was finishing up his food, his mind still flashing back to the night before, remembering every touch on his skin…his phone buzzed.

He checked the screen.

Erica.

Oh, boy, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy for her on the Eve before Christmas…but he answered it, anyway, immediately regretting saying hello when the first words out of her mouth were, “Stiles! You have everything you need to make cookies, right?” Dear god, what was it now? “Oh, who am I talking to, of course you have cookie mix. Right, well, Derek, Lance, and I are coming over! See you in a few minutes!” she rambled out before he could get in a word edgewise.

Just as he was about to reply, she hung up and Stiles groaned.

He leaned back in his chair and yelled up to his dad, who had gone upstairs, “Yo, pops! Erica and Derek are coming over, along with the kid, and, apparently, we’re baking cookies. You don’t mind us taking over the kitchen for a few hours, right?”

“As long as you clean up after yourselves and save me a few!” he yelled back down to him, and Stiles nodded.

Fair enough.

He ambled back into the kitchen and checked the pantry and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that they had everything they needed to make cookies from scratch. Rubbing a hand over his face, he started to pull it all out and had only just started to set it up when he heard the front door open and close, and couldn’t help but yell out, “Erica, you have to learn how to knock!”

She appeared in the kitchen doorway, hanging off the frame with a shit-eating grin on her face and said, “Aw, but what would be the fun in that? Oooh, is that the stuff for the cookies?”

Lance was right behind her, sticking close to Derek’s side and he gave the kid a reassuring smile before looking up at Derek and giving him a smile, as well. The alpha returned his look and patted Lance on the shoulder as they shuffled into the kitchen, Derek then saying, “I apologize for her. But it’s not like I really have any control over her,” he said sounding genuinely frustrated, giving her a slight glare, to which she replied with sticking her tongue out at him and Lance giggled at her.

Stiles smiled at seeing the kid already relaxing and then showed him where the baking sheets were and had him help with making the cookie dough.

As they started pulling everything out for the cookies, Stiles couldn’t help but ask, “Is there a reason why you aren’t doing this back at the house?”

Derek and Erica shared a look over Lance’s head, and then Derek explained, irritation in his voice, “Well, we would have, but it seems that Isaac and Liam got into the frozen cookie dough in the freezer two nights ago and ate it all. So, we had nothing left to make the Christmas cookies with, and I didn’t have the ingredients to make them from scratch. When we went out for ingredients, we found that most of the grocery stores are closed already, so Erica suggested that we call you. Next thing I know,” he added, sounding thoroughly annoyed, “She’s making me drive over to your house.”

He then shrugged and apologized.

“Sorry for crashing in on you like this,” and Stiles quickly brushed it off and said, “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it, sourwolf.”

He then looked back down at Lance, who had finished mixing the ingredients and was looking up at Stiles questioningly, as if asking him what he was supposed to do next. With a smile, Stiles showed him how to roll out the dough and then cut out the different shapes with the cookie cutters.

Pretty soon, Erica and Derek were helping the kid, as well, and Stiles pulled back slightly so that the three of them could spend more time bonding with the young werecoyote.

He found it amusing that every time that Lance said something, or Erica did, Derek was translating for each of them, and Stiles tried very hard to tamp down on his reaction to hearing him speak Spanish so fluently. He never knew he had a thing for other languages. Or maybe it wasn’t languages, but Derek. Watching the alpha gently reprimand Erica as she tried to steal a bite from the batter and then gently say something to Lance in Spanish…well, it was definitely doing something to him, somewhere in the vicinity of his chest.

His dad poked his head in at once point to tell him he was going to do a couple of hours of paperwork back at the station, and Stiles nodded him off.

By that point, they had the first batch in the oven and had already started making the next batch. They had to make enough for the entire pack, of course, so Stiles estimated that they would be making at least three more batches, because he knew what the wolves’ appetites were like.

He eventually pulled out a couple of phrases he remembered from a Spanish class that he had taken way back in his freshman year of high school and laughed when Lance had to correct his pronunciation.

At some point while they were making cookies, Stiles ended up between Derek at Lance at the kitchen island, while Erica stood on the other side of Lance, getting Spanish lessons.

“Una galleta,” Lance said, pointing at one of the cookies on the tray and Stiles chuckled when he heard Erica try to repeat the word, not even coming close to rolling the double L sound correctly, and Lance laughed, and then Erica said, “Cookie.”

They were surprised when Lance smiled, picked it up and looked at her and said, “Good cookie?”

She smiled and nodded.

Without thinking about it, Stiles leaned slightly into Derek’s shoulder, forgetting that the closeness that they had shared last night at the party wasn’t allowed anymore, and he was just about to apologize and pull back, but then Derek’s hand reached up and stroked his lower back, so he took a risk and stayed where he was. Derek didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss, so Stiles said nothing, just soaking it in as much as he could until the alpha came to his senses.

And then Erica looked over at them and shot a smirk in Stiles’ direction. He felt his cheeks heat up, and so he ducked his eyes and quickly pulled away from the casual embrace under the guise of going to the fridge to get something to drink, and then offered everyone else something as well in order to keep himself occupied.

Eventually, they had done five batches in total. Stiles threw them all into two large tupperware containers (with a few set aside for him and his dad), with the promise that they would be returned to him.

Just as they left, Stiles held Derek back for a moment and asked, “Is he doing okay? I mean, is the pack treating him right?”

Derek nodded.

“Yeah, they really seem to like him. Apparently last night was a huge success because when I got home, I found them all sprawled over the couch in a massive pile, Lance right in the middle, watching the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. He seems to like Liam the most,” he added with a soft smile. “I’m just glad he feels safe with us.”

Stiles nodded back at him and then lightly punched him on the shoulder and said, “Now get out of here and go celebrate the holiday with your pack. I’ll bring by your present sometime tomorrow, after dad and I open up our own presents, okay?”

Derek nodded and then quickly headed back to the Camaro, where Stiles could hear Erica and Lance arguing, Lance going off in rapid Spanish while she just shook her head and yelled back at him in English.

Yeah, he was going to be just fine.

--

Stiles had thought about telling Derek about what he’d found out but had then decided that it could wait until after Christmas. Besides, he wanted to get a confirmation from Heather before telling him what he knew, because he knew that if he told the alpha about Reynault then he wouldn’t care whether or not it was Christmas, he would leave to go and hunt him down himself, and Stiles didn’t want to take away from their well-deserved holiday cheer.

Instead, he finished putting the last couple of presents for his dad under the tree, and then made up a batch of eggnog that would appeal to both of them.

At around four, his dad was back home, and Stiles managed to convince him to sit down for a while to relax and have some eggnog and a couple of cookies.

When the sheriff coughed at the first sip, he smirked, knowing that he’d made it just right.

They then did their usual tradition and ordered a meat lovers pizza and put Die Hard into the blu-ray player, which they both firmly believed was definitely a Christmas movie. It had become a tradition back when Stiles was only twelve, and it was something that they enjoyed doing together every single Christmas Eve. Their biggest meal of the holiday, though, was always lunch on Christmas day.

They always piled up with heavy foods and it was the one time of year where Stiles didn’t get on his dad’s case about his diet. Instead, he let him indulge, and though they had never invited anyone to their exclusive Christmas lunch, Stiles had the faint inkling that this year his dad wanted to invite Melissa over. He knew that it should bother him a little bit, but the truth was that he was thrilled that his dad had found someone special in his life, and he couldn’t think of anyone better than Melissa. She had practically been a second mother to him over the years, after all.

Just as they had completely settled and were more than halfway through the movie, Bruce Willis giving his famous line from the vents, Stiles phone buzzed insistently in his pocket, and he looked at the number and recognized the Tennessee area code and quickly stood up and said, “Dad, I have to take this.”

He quickly ducked into the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Stiles, this is Heather. I thought about e-mailing or texting you, but I then I realized that a phone call would be best. We’ve got him.”

Suddenly his shoulders dropped, and tension that Stiles didn’t even realized he was holding fell from him almost instantly and he let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the fridge, resting his forehead on the cool metal, and breathed out, “Oh, thank god. You have him contained?” he couldn’t help but ask.

She quickly answered, “Inside a room made from mountain ash, inside of a mountain ash circle, with mistletoe vines in the ground. Reynault isn’t going anywhere, Emissary Stiles,” she added with a smile in her tone, and he chuckled at the way she so formally addressed him, and he smiled and replied, “You have no idea how good this makes me feel. Knowing that he’s locked up and not getting out is the best Christmas present you could have given me. By the way, did you contact--?”

“Yes, we contacted him. He says he’s taking care of everything back in Maine and in D.C., and that it should all be taken care of before tomorrow morning.”

Stiles let out another sigh of relief and slowly stood back up, lightly tapping the palm of his hand to the counter, and then he said, “I’ll tell Derek and Lance tomorrow. They’ll be so relieved. I mean, he only just got here, but I think Derek really likes this kid. And he really likes Derek, too.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Well, like I said. It’ll all be taken care of. Have a Merry Christmas, Emissary Stiles.”

“Please, call me Stiles. You keep calling me by my title and it’ll go straight to my head, just ask my fellow FBI agents,” and at that, she laughed and politely replied, “Fine, then. Stiles. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

And with that, they hung up, and Stiles felt a lightness that he hadn’t felt in a couple of days…except perhaps at the party the night before. He couldn’t wait to tell Derek, but he didn’t want to ruin their pack Christmas, so he would wait until he dropped by later tomorrow with his presents. They deserved to at least have a little bit more time together. He wasn’t sure how Lance would react to hearing the Reynault was no longer a problem, so he decided to play it safe for now.

He walked back into the living room and was surprised to see that his dad had paused the movie. He looked up at him curiously when he walked back in and asked, “Who was that? Sounded serious.”

Stiles nodded and then sat back down.

“Yeah, that was Heather, the emissary for that Tennessee pack I told you about. They, uh…they caught him. They have Reynault completely secure and he will face charges properly in werewolf style law,” he answered, knowing that that most likely meant that he was either going to be killed or permanently contained, though it all depended on him.

The sheriff arched an eyebrow, but instead of saying anything about it, he nodded and started the movie back up. Traditions had to be upheld, after all.

--

Stiles was startled out of his sleep at three am on Christmas morning, his phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand, and he blearily reached for it, silently praying that it wasn’t Erica calling. He could probably deal with anyone but Erica at that point. He loved her, but she was a menace.

“’lo?” he said, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes, rolling back over to his back.

“Hey, Stilinski. Have some good news for you.”

Oh, he knew that voice.

He blinked a couple of times, and then said, “Agent Davis? Is that you?”

“Yeah, sorry for waking you up at…oh, god, three am, I’m sorry, I totally forgot how early it is back in California,” his friend back at Quantico said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “But I took care of handling the information about Reynault. According to the FBI, he no longer exists and the attack on the parents was an animal attack, and the child has been declared dead. How does Lance Hale, sound?”

At that, Stiles shot up in his bed and stared straight ahead in shock, not quite sure that he had heard what he’d just heard. He knew that Agent Connor Davis was good, but this was far above and beyond what he had expected.

He gaped for a moment, and then finally got out, “Oh my god, Connor, I don’t know how the hell you did this, but this…this is freakin’ amazing, man! He’s, he’s…he’s already connecting with Derek and the pack and now he has a place if he wants it, and…seriously! How the hell did you pull this off so fast?” he asked a second time, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his emissary friend at the FBI had just pulled off the biggest Christmas miracle of all time.

Connor answered, “Well, let’s just say that I friends that owe me quite a few favors and I cashed them in because this seemed like a good time for it. Lance deserves to have someplace where he can feel safe. No one deserves to go through that kind of trauma…”

His voiced drifted and Stiles couldn’t help but say, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

The line went quiet for a moment, taking it all in, and suddenly he felt like he needed to tell Derek at that very moment…but it was still just after three in the morning, and he had the feeling that the werewolf wouldn’t appreciate being woken up in the dead of night right before Christmas morning. He bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth, trying to figure out just what to do.

Before he could get too worked up about it, however, Connor said, “I’m sure that he’s exactly where he needs to be, Stiles. I know you and I trust your judgment. Besides,” he drawled, sounding far too smug, “From what I’ve heard about the Hale pack and from what you’ve told me about Derek, I bet Lance is making friends quickly. As are you.”

He heard the intonation in his voice and groaned and wondered if nearly everyone he knew was aware of the fact that he had a crush on Derek Hale.

Finally, he said, “Okay, look, yes, I like Derek but it’s not like that. I don’t know how many times I’ve told people this, but he doesn’t like me that way, so if you could just--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stilinski, just chill. I just think that you’re a little bit close minded and that it might not all just be on your side, you know? I keep in touch with other packs and other leaders, and quite a few of them have met Derek and have heard the way that he talks about you, and I’m just, you know…putting the pieces together,” Connor finished, and Stiles’ hackles lowered.

Oh. Wait…Derek talked about him? To other packs? How was he not aware of that?

Deciding he’d had enough emotional turmoil, he said, “Well, thanks for calling me. This is the best news, and I can’t wait to tell him. Thanks again, Connor.”

“No problem, Stilinski. By the way, don’t forget to check your e-mail.”

They hung up, and Stiles knew that he should go back to sleep, but he was suddenly wide awake and wired, and so he threw off his blanket and pulled on his old lacrosse hoodie and wandered over to his work laptop, pulling it out and flipping it open. He skimmed through his work e-mails, ignoring all of them except for the one that Agent Davis had just sent him.

He smiled as he read it, realizing that he needed to do something especially nice for the man because he had just somehow pulled off the impossible. He drafted a reply, trying to put as much gratitude into it as he could, needing Connor to know just how amazing he was. He’d met Agent Davis when he’d first gotten his job and the guy had immediately recognized a fellow emissary. Stiles had been startled to discover that there was someone else in the supernatural world that had chosen a job in law enforcement, but they’d quickly become friends.

He now had connections with the few packs that were out east because of the man and he was grateful for it, because they had all been far more helpful that Deaton had ever been and he stayed in touch with them through secure channels and used them as resources when things went weird in Beacon Hills, which happened more often than not.

After going through a few personal e-mails to a couple of emissaries, one in North Carolina and one in Ohio, he glanced at his phone to check the time.

It was just after six am. Too late to try and get more sleep, he knew, because his dad typically woke him up at around seven on Christmas morning, every year, without fail.

Letting out a long sigh, he leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes, wondering what his dad had gotten for him that year. Last year had been a set of leather holsters that he had ordered from a professional leather worker up in Wyoming, and he still used them. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got another gift that was in the same vein as the one before. Though his dad didn’t say it, he knew that he was proud of him getting into the FBI, and show tried to show it through the gifts he got him throughout the year.

Just as he felt himself starting to drift, though, he heard from his window--

“Hey, I need to talk to you--”

He opened his eyes just in time to reach out and catch the edge of his desk with his fingertips to keep himself from falling over, and then swung accusing eyes over in the direction of the voice, wondering what the hell Derek was doing there in his room at six fifteen in the morning. On Christmas morning. When he was supposed to be with his pack.

“Dude, what the hell, man?” he hissed out, keeping in mind that his dad was still asleep only a couple of doors down from his room. “How many times do I have to tell you that we have a front door and that you should use it? Also…what the hell?? It’s Christmas morning! Is there a reason why you’re over here scaring me out of my skin instead of back with your pack, dealing with sugary, hyped-up pups tearing into their stockings and presents and driving you up the wall??”

He evened out his breathing as much as he could as he brought the chair back to the floor, once more level, but he knew that he couldn’t hide from Derek just how fast his heart was racing. Normally, he would have been embarrassed, but considering what the alpha had just done, he felt it was entirely Derek’s fault.

Derek just gave him a once over and said, “Like I said, I need to talk to you. I’m worried about who went after Lance’s parents, and I think I should--”

Stiles quickly cut him off, waving a hand in the air and saying, “Dude, don’t worry about it, I’ve already taken care of it,” and at that, Derek’s brow furrowed, and he gave him a curious look, and Stiles realized how it sounded, so he quickly explained.

“Look, I was worried, too, so yesterday I used department resources, as well as a few of my own, and I tracked down the werewolf that killed his parents.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up at that.

“Turns out he was a rogue from one of the Quebec packs who was acting outside the authority of the alpha, trying to claim it as a territory dispute. I managed to track him down to Tennessee and contacted the emissary there, and she just called me this evening to say that they’ve got him contained.” He paused to yawn, and then scratched his neck and said, “Also, I got a call from an agent friend back at Quantico who cut through all the shitty red tape and made it so that Lance Santiago and the man who killed his parents no longer exist.”

Derek, still partially perched on the sill of Stiles’ window, just looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth partly open, and Stiles was fairly certain that that had been his own expression when Connor had told him the news.

Finally, Derek breathed out, sounding incredulous, “How…how did you do all of this so quickly? I mean, tracking him down means…you would need…”

Stiles rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but quip, “Dude, did you never wonder how the hell I became a full-fledged field agent with their own field office at just twenty-four? With three paid agents who work under me, all of them older than I am?”

Derek came the rest of the way into the room and sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, his brow still furrowed, and Stiles let out a long sigh, flipped his laptop closed, and then said, “Okay, apparently you had no clue, so looks like I’m gonna have to explain it to you,” and went and joined Derek on his bed, trying not to pay too close attention to the fact that all he wore was his boxers and that he hadn’t showered since the night that they had gone to the party.

“As soon as I started the internship, one of the agents took an interest in me and I quickly found out that he was an emissary.” Derek gave him a wide-eyed look and Stiles chuckled and said, “Yeah, I know, it totally took me off guard, too, but because he recognized my spark, don’t ask me how,” he quickly said, throwing a hand up to stop the alpha’s inevitable question, “I still don’t get it, myself. But he recognized it and immediately put me on the fast track to becoming an agent. Luckily, I passed most of the tests simply because I had the experience thanks to my dad and all of my adventurous teenage years in Beacon Hills.”

Derek then finally said, “Is he the same agent that you just mentioned? The one who cut through all the red tape?”

Stiles nodded.

“Yep. Connor’s a great guy,” he said, smiling fondly. “It’s because of him that I got this amazing job in the first place. It’s because of him I was able to come back home to work, instead of spending ten to twelve years back in D.C., trying to work my way up the daisy chain of bureaucrats to get to a job where I could finally choose where I wanted to work.”

Derek looked up at him at that, drawing his gaze away from the floor, and said a low tone, “I didn’t know that. I just…I guess I just thought you were that good, I guess.”

At that, Stiles laughed, though tried to still keep his voice down, remembering his dad was asleep, and said, “Wow, that’s, uh…super flattering, I guess, but no, sourwolf. Just got really lucky with the right person who got me where I could do the most good for the Agency. Not gonna lie, a lot of the cases I take I have to run supernatural interference, so my agents don’t wise up and find out what’s really going on out here near Beacon Hills.”

Derek’s brow softened and he gave Stiles a look that he couldn’t quite nail down.

Feeling a bit exposed, he quickly stood back up and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and said, “So, yeah. Lance is officially off the grid, so if you want to take him in, you can. In fact, how does Lance Hale, sound?”

At that, Derek looked up at him in shock.

“Lance…Hale? Do you mean…?”

Stiles shrugged, a bit nervous as he admitted, “Connor managed to change some records so that you have a baby brother who was adopted right before the fire.” He quickly told him everything that he’d read in the detailed e-mail that Connor had sent him right after their conversation. “He lives with you here in Beacon Hills and is now currently registered at Beacon Hills Middle School.”

Derek gaped up at him, and Stiles was even more confused when he suddenly surged to his feet in front of him and said in a breathless voice, “I don’t know how to thank you, or him, but I need to find a way…”

Stiles felt completely off-balance as Derek leaned into his personal space, their mouths shockingly close.

“Stiles…” Derek then suddenly stopped and took a deep breath, and then he leaned his head down and took another long deep breath through his nose, practically nuzzling into his neck, and then murmured into Stiles’ ear, “You’re still wearing the shirt that you wore under what you wore to the party,” and Stiles swallowed, unsure of what to do, so he remained stock still as Derek proceeded to do whatever he was doing. He then said, his lips brushing against Stiles’ jaw, “I wanted it to be real…”

What was he talking about? What did he meant that he wanted it to be real? He wanted what to be real--oh. Oh.

Oh.

As if he was acting on instinct, he brought his hands up and slipped them around the back of Derek’s neck and said, “Oh, god, so did I, but I thought that was probably pretty damn obvious, by now.” He heard Derek swallow and the alpha said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I wasn’t sure if it was real or if I was just imagining it, you know? I thought maybe because I wanted you to want me in the same way so bad, that I was imagining things…”

Stiles shook his head and slipped his fingers into the hair at the base of Derek’s neck and murmured right back at him, “You weren’t imagining things…”

That seemed to be the trigger, because suddenly Derek had pulled his head back and was pressing his lips to Stiles and he was melting under the sheer heat of him, turning his entire body so that he was pressed up against him from shoulder to thigh, and he didn’t think that he’d ever felt more comforted yet turned on at the exact same time.

And then, through a series of events that quickly became a blur, Stiles found himself on his back on his bed with Derek on top of him, hands sliding under his sweater to pull it over his head, and then was nuzzling his mouth and nose into his neck and down the center of the shirt, letting out these small little sounds that made Stiles think that he was fully embracing his wolf side and scenting him up and down like a wolf trying to claim its territory on a mate.

He was more than a little bit turned on, and then just about lost it when Derek’s tongue darted out and licked at his nipple through the shirt, and then sharply nipped at it, causing Stiles to yelp and squirm.

“Ah, Derek! What are you, what are doing,” he breathed out as he slid further down and traced his tongue across his exposed hip bone.

“I’m claiming you as mine,” he muttered into his skin. “I’m gonna mark you up and make you the prettiest present I’ve ever had in my life,” and Stiles’ eyes rolled up in the back of his head at the sheer amount of desire in his words. God, the threat of being bitten into and marked up by claws and teeth should not be that hot, Stiles thought to himself as Derek then lightly tugged on his boxers, exposing even more skin to his ever-questing tongue.

He slid his hand under Stiles’ hips and forced his legs apart and nosed down into the crevice of his hip and then let out a low hum that sounded like he was enjoying himself.

Stiles reached down and ran his fingers through the alpha’s hair and breathed out, “This is easily the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten, but Der…you’ve got pups waiting for you back at home,” but his admonishment went unnoticed as Derek reached between them and pressed warm fingers to Stiles’ erection, causing his brain to short circuit.

He bucked up into the grip, eyes rolling towards the ceiling, and then nearly passed out when he felt Derek’s tongue trace over him through the fabric of his boxers, and he heard him inhale deeply once more, and Stiles wondered what he smelled like to the alpha wolf, because however he smelled, it seemed to be bringing out every single part of Derek’s possessive side, because he growled, “Mine,” and then lightly suckled at the tip of his cock through his boxers and Stiles was certain that he was going to die from it.

But then the pressure suddenly went away, and he looked down, wondering why Derek had changed his mind and was blown away by look in his eyes as he stared up at him from between his legs.

“God, Stiles…you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” he said, sounding completely breathless.

And then he moved up, his thighs still resting between Stiles’ legs, but now his chest covered Stiles’ as he reached back up for another kiss, and as he wrapped his arms around the alpha’s shoulders, he realized he never wanted to stop kissing him. Despite the promise of something more, all he really wanted to do at that moment was to continue to kiss him and hold him in his arms for as long as he could.

Derek slowly undulated against him, their cocks rubbing in just the right way, and Stiles gasped while Derek continued to kiss him, running his tongue down and over his neck, playfully nipping the entire time and he knew that he was going to end up with so many marks that it was going to look like he had barely won a fight against a very determined vampire with blunt teeth. Part of him, the part of his brain that was still working, was telling him to push Derek off and make sure he got back home, but another part of his brain, the much more selfish part, was telling him to never let him go and hold onto him as tightly as he could.

Torn between the two, he simply slid his hands down Derek’s back and then lightly squeezed when they got to their targeted destination.

Derek grunted and then thrusted hard against him when he did, causing Stiles to moan more loudly than he meant to.

He bit his lip and tried to remember that his dad was still asleep.

But then--

“Hey, kiddo, it’s time to get up for…”

They both froze and Stiles slowly turned his head to see his dad standing in the doorway of his room, one hand still raised as if he’d knocked on the door. Stiles then realized that he probably had, but he hadn’t heard it because he had been…occupied.

All three of them were frozen. And then his dad coughed, raised an eyebrow at them and said, “Uh, why don’t you come down a bit later. I’ll put some coffee on,” and he turned and left, muttering something under his breath as he walked back down the hall to the stairs, and Stiles was confused when Derek suddenly snorted then pressed his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder as his body shook with laughter, as if he was trying to contain his mirth at the whole situation.

Amused, but also annoyed, Stiles tapped his shoulder and said, “Alright, what gives? Being caught by my dad isn’t that funny, man…”

Finally, Derek caught his breath and looked back up at him and explained, “When your dad left, he said that he owed Melissa money.” Derek arched an eyebrow at him, as if trying to tell him to put the pieces together…which Stiles finally did.

“Hold up, are you telling me that…that the two of them were betting on when the two of us were going to get together?!”

Derek nodded and slowly rose up to his knees, so that his weight was no longer on top of his, and Stiles already missed it. He quickly sat up, as well, and then reached out and pulled Derek back to him with a hand around the back of his neck, stealing yet another kiss from him, and was pleased when the werewolf seemed almost breathless when they both pulled back from it what felt like ages later. He didn’t really want to stop kissing him, but he knew that he had to.

“So, uh…Merry Christmas,” he said, not sure of what else to say.

Derek gave him a long look…and then he reached over and cupped his jaw and Stiles couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

And then Derek said, “You were right, before. I need to be back with my pack. But…you’re still coming over later, though, right?” he asked, his tone unsure and Stiles quickly reassured him with, “Of course, I’m still coming over, sourwolf. I’ll just also be bringing an overnight bag,” he added with a smirk and Derek’s smile widened.

“Sounds great,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He then said, “By the way, I’m sorry I never told you I was okay or tried to visit you when you were at the Academy,” and Stiles felt his heart clench, and he just shook his head and said, “Hey, don’t worry about it, Derek. It wasn’t either of our faults. Just…bad timing.”

Derek nodded.

And then he moved to go back out the window, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Seriously?” he drawled, gesturing widely with his hands. “After all this, and you’re still going to go out through the window? We are fully grown adults, Derek, you can go out through the front door like a big boy,” he said, arching an eyebrow at him, and Derek gave him a look over his shoulder and replied, “I like doing it this way. Makes me feel like I’m making for the years we lost when neither of us acted on our feelings. We have time to be adults later,” he said, completely taking Stiles off guard.

Feeling a sudden surge of affection towards him, he bolted to his window and planted a hot, wet kiss right on Derek’s mouth, feeling a rush of hormones as he then whispered against his lips, “In that case, when can we park your car on some back road and christen the back seat of the Camaro?”

Derek grinned.

“How about New Year’s Eve?”

Stiles grinned.

“It’s a date.”

And with that, Derek lightly jumped to the ground and Stiles stared for a moment, watching him take off back home, looking forward to going over later in the day to see him and the pack. This was the best Christmas ever, he thought to himself as he tugged on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers, noting the stain on the front from where Derek had…yeah.

Shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the inappropriate thoughts before he went to spend the morning with his dad, he grabbed his phone and tucked it into his hoodie and sauntered down the stairs, ignoring the smug smirk on the corner of his dad’s lips as he handed him a mug of coffee. The two of them sat on the floor next to the tree and Stiles handed over his present and eagerly ripped at the paper on his own, wondering what his dad had gotten him that year.

“Are you serious?” he said as he pulled out the matching hat and jacket, both with the Mets logo on them, and he saw the scrawl of a familiar signature on the back of the cap and the shoulder of the jacket. “How the hell did you get this?”

His dad shrugged and grinned and answered, “Let’s just say that you’re not the only one who knows people, kid.”

Stiles laughed, pulled his dad into a strong, back breaking hug, and then slid the jacket on, thrilled with how well it fit him.

He then gestured at his dad as he tugged on the cap and said, “C’mon, open up your present, don’t leave me hangin’,” and then smiled when his dad finally pulled off the wrapping on the present that Stiles had spent a total of two minutes wrapping. He smiled even wider when his dad let out a sound of surprise at what he found.

“I’m not going to ask how you got it, I’m just going to say thank you,” he said, pulling out his pocketknife and opening the box, pulling out the brand-new leather jacket with a blue and red leather stripe down the front right side. It was an exact replica of one from a tv show that he’d loved when he was younger, and Stiles was glad that he was finally able to afford to spoil his dad for once. The look on his face as he put the jacket on over his t-shirt was priceless.

But then his dad’s smile turned into a smirk and he said, “So, you and Derek…”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Oh, god, do we have to have this conversation right now? It’s bad enough that you saw us…you know, the way that you saw us. By the way,” he quickly added, pulling the coat and hat back off and putting them back into the box, “Derek told me what you said, about how you owe Melissa money. You two bet on us?”

He wasn’t proud of how his voice cracked slightly as he said it, but then his dad chuckled and shook his head and said, “Yeah, we did. I know you, Stiles. I’ve known for years that you’ve had a crush on the guy. Why do you think I was on your case when you and Scott first met him? I know all the signs of a repressed crush turned into fake anger. You kept on going on and on about how you hated him, and then when you came back and Derek asked you to be his emissary, well…I knew it was just a matter of time.”

Stiles smiled at that, but ducked his eyes, feeling his face go slightly warm.

And then his dad added, pointing a finger at him, “That doesn’t mean I want to walk into what I just saw earlier, again. If you’re gonna do…that…then do it somewhere else. Understood?”

Unable to help himself, Stiles said, “Oh, we’ve already got a date tonight, and for New Year’s Eve, we’re christening the Camaro,” and grinned when he saw his dad make a face and let out a disgusted sound. He may have been an adult, but that didn’t mean he had to be mature.

“Gee, thanks for that imagery, kid.”

“You’re welcome, pops,” he said, reaching out and playfully batting him on the arm.

They then shared one last smile and headed off to the kitchen for breakfast.

Yeah.

Best Christmas ever.