Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He had no idea what to do right now. All he could do was look on in horror as Derek approached his uncle and Chris, not a care in the world, looking bored and like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

He couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t even mutter under his breath, because Schrader wasn’t like the Argents. He didn’t care about Werewolves the way Hunters did, because they were good security. Stiles knew there was Werewolf security in the room right now, he just didn’t know where they were.

Didn’t even know if any of the bodyguards around Schrader right now were Werewolves. 

Could he risk saying something quietly under his breath? He knew Peter and Derek would hear him, but what if someone else did? 

Was it already too late? What if Deucalion had already seen Derek and was getting security over here? It would expose them all. Fuck, Jackson! This was the literal worst position in the world for them to be in. If he didn’t manage to get Derek to fuck off right now, he risked being spotted by Deucalion, which meant he’d probably get captured and then something terrible would happen to him, and most likely to Jackson, too.

But he legitimately couldn’t say anything, or make any sort of sign about how Derek needed to leave because Schrader was still holding the trigger for the room Jackson was in, and one wrong move would have him press the button and Jackson would die. 

Fuck. Fuck! He had to think! He had to—

“Dean, I just remembered,” Peter said, cutting into Stiles’ panicked thoughts and forcing his gaze back up to the three men in front of him. “Didn’t we have that phone conference for work this evening? It slipped my mind, can you please call Rebecca to confirm if it’s still on?” 

Derek made a big show of rolling his eyes, like he was being inconvenienced, but he passed the champagne over to Chris and Peter, shot Stiles one last glance, and then turned to leave. 

It took Stiles a second to figure out what had happened and he’d never been so, so grateful to Werewolves in his life. Because he knew the only reason Derek had come was likely because, after two weeks being apart, he’d needed to see with his own eyes that Stiles was okay. It deviated from the plan, and Stiles was positive Peter had been against it, but Derek was good at the puppy eyes when he wanted to be. 

He’d only been invited because he was probably losing his mind not knowing Stiles was actually okay. And after two weeks apart, they probably figured Stiles himself would be thrilled to see him again, having endured all the hardships in this shithole of a place. And any other time, he would’ve been thrilled. 

Just... not now.

Not with Deucalion here.

And the only reason this was working out in his favour was because they were Werewolves. Stiles was so stupid, thinking he had to whisper something to them, that he had to actually say something. 

Wolves could hear heartbeats, and Stiles was positive that the second he’d spotted Derek, his heartbeat had sky-rocketed, and not in a, “I’m so happy to see you!” sort of way. In a, “What the actual fuck are you doing here?!” sort of way. 

Peter was a smart man. And Derek was a smart man. For Stiles to have been normal at the sight of Chris and Peter, and then panic at the sight of Derek, it was obvious that there was a reason for it. And thank fucking God for that, because Stiles was now watching Derek slowly shift his way through the crowd to exit the room, and he could feel himself relaxing. He was fine. Derek was going to be fine. And Jackson was going to be fine. 

This was still going to work out as planned. Everything was fine, just a small heart attack, nothing critical, he needed to jumpstart his cardiovascular system anyway, he’d been getting sleepy, all good. 

Stiles tried extremely hard not to sag with the relief he felt, because he was sure Schrader would notice. Peter was keeping a subtle eye on him, like he wanted to make sure he was okay after the clear almost meltdown he’d just had. Stiles did his best to breathe. Just breathe. In and out. Only about an hour longer of this bullshit, and then they’d be out of here. Him and Jackson both. They’d be out, and Jackson would be okay, and Stiles would be back with Derek, and they could move on with their happy little liv—

Stiles’ head snapped up at the commotion by the door. Schrader cut Chris off mid-sentence, raising the hand holding Stiles’ leash in a clear, “Stop talking.” Two of Schrader’s bodyguards moved closer to him, as if wanting to be sure there wasn’t a threat to his person. 

They all turned to face the door and Stiles felt his stomach drop at the snarling he could hear.

He’d recognize those snarls anywhere. 

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck!

Please, Stiles insisted silently, eyes on the crowd gathered at the door. Please don’t do this to me, please. Please! Don’t make me choose!

Sure enough, the crowd was shoved roughly aside by security, and Stiles saw the buffoon who’d been in charge of him all night leading the way back to Schrader. Two rather large, intimidating men—Stiles had heard of them being referred to as Beserkers—were holding each of Derek’s arms tightly while he snarled and struggled. They were dragging him forward like he wasn’t an Alpha Werewolf currently trying to break free with all his strength.

And, of course, right behind them, looking ten different kinds of pleased with himself, was fucking Deucalion. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Schrader asked, even as Peter stiffened and Chris cursed under his breath when they both realized what was happening. 

“Schrader,” Deucalion said as the Beserkers reached the group of men. They tossed Derek down hard, the Werewolf grunting when he landed. He started to try and stand, but one of the Beserkers punched him across the face and Derek slammed back down.

Stiles saw blood on his lips. Jesus, these things were not to be messed with. 

“Deucalion,” Schrader said lowly. “I certainly hope you have a good explanation for this. 

“I thought you said Derek Hale was locked away downstairs,” Deucalion accused, eyes narrowed. 

“He is,” Schrader insisted, though he turned to glance at Stiles then, and whatever he saw on his face was probably a very, very bad thing, because his expression hardened. 

“Then why, pray tell, is Derek Hale currently on his knees in front of you, wearing a suit and looking like he was invited?” 

There were too many people. Stiles knew there were too many people. He was strong, he was powerful, he was the fucking Spark! But there were too many people. 

He’d already depleted his reserves by using all that healing magic on Jackson for days on end while wearing cuffs. He was currently also wearing three different magic-sucking cuffs at this very moment. There had to be over two hundred people in the room, an additional hundred throughout the mansion as a whole.

This wasn’t the plan.

It was too much. 

There was no way he could do it. He was at his limit, he would barely be able to do what he had to do when the auction came up. He wasn’t going to be able to do this right now, he couldn’t, he couldn’t!

But he had to. Because Schrader’s expression twisted into something horrible, and Stiles saw him raise the trigger, thumb poised, and Stiles couldn’t choose. 

He couldn’t force him to choose.

Derek or Jackson. 

Derek or Jackson! 

He couldn’t choose which one he was willing to lose right now.

So he had no choice, and figured if anyone was going to die tonight, well, might as well be him. 

“Freeze!” 

The second the word left his mouth, his vision crackled black and he felt something snap in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t remember falling, but when his vision cleared, he was on his hands and knees, struggling to inhale, small drops of blood staining the marble floor beneath him. He coughed once, hard, and more blood left his lips, spattering onto the floor. 

He felt dizzy, and sick, and like he was about to pass out. His vision was swimming, he couldn’t breathe, and every sharp attempt at inhaling was like a knife right through his chest. He could see his arms shaking as they struggled to support his weight, and in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder how his mother had survived what she had done. Curing the world like she had with one spell. 

No wonder she’d been weak when Argent came for her, Stiles couldn’t imagine how much magic she’d been forced to use. He knew he wasn’t anywhere close to her level yet. He was still young, he’d been wearing a restrictor most of his life, he’d depleted his reserved healing Jackson, he had magic-sucking cuffs, there had to be over three hundred people in the house...

He knew he had a handicap right now, but still. His mother truly had been formidable. 

And honestly, he had no idea if it had even worked. His ears were ringing, his vision was swimming, and he literally had no idea how much time had passed. The collar around his neck was tight and painful, like the new position on the ground was pulling it taut against his throat. 

If he hadn’t been fast enough, then Jackson was dead. If it hadn’t worked, then they were probably all dead. Even if the FBI and CIA and local police and whoever the fuck was outside burst through the doors, Stiles didn’t know that there’d be anyone left to save. From his pack, anyway. They would save the rares, arrest all the fuckers in the room, but Stiles knew the rest of them wouldn’t survive this. 

He was scared to look up, because he didn’t want to know if he’d failed of not, but he had no choice. Besides, the collar was really restricting his breathing, which was already coming hard and fast with how much energy he’d just expelled. 

He looked up.

His stomach dropped when he saw Schrader moving and he almost lost his fucking mind before he realized Schrader wasn’t moving. Stiles’ vision was swimming so badly that it gave the illusion of him moving. 

Scrader’s head was still turned back, looking at where Stiles had previously been standing, trigger half-raised but not yet at a height where he’d have pressed it. And even if he had, Stiles could only hope that the wolfsbane being pumped into the room with Jackson had frozen, too. Like the Hunter’s flame back at the old man’s house when he’d been trying to light a cigarette. 

He’d done it. It had almost killed him, but he’d done it. Everyone was frozen. 

Stiles had no idea how long he could keep this up. The last time had been easy. It had been twenty, maybe thirty people maximum. It was closer to three hundred this time, counting the people in the room, the people in the mansion, those still locked away downstairs, the people he’d probably caught outside from his panic. He wouldn’t be able to hold this for long, and he could still feel blood slowly dripping down his chin. 

That probably wasn’t good. 

He had to be very careful when he faced forward again, because he knew that moving someone was what broke them out of the spell. He was sure there was another way of doing it, but so far, he had to shake them or something, and he did not want to accidentally jostle Schrader’s hand by making the leash move. 

His eyes found Derek and it hurt his chest to see him. He’d missed him so much the past two weeks, and he’d been so fucking scared when he’d seen him. But now, when he was literally struggling to stay conscious, the sight of him was like a salve against every inch of his skin. 

Being slow and careful, he lifted one hand off the ground, the other arm shaking in its attempt to keep his weight up, and then reached out for him. Stiles was so scared he’d be too far, that he wouldn’t be able to touch him, that he’d have to figure out a way to somehow unfreeze just him without unfreezing everyone else. 

Thankfully, God wasn’t that much of a dick, because he managed to curl his fingers into the shoulder of Derek’s suit jacket, and he tugged as hard as he could. 

Derek jerked and snarled, immediately trying to stand again, and then paused when he realized the Beserkers didn’t react to his movement. He looked around for only a second before recognizing what was going on, and his eyes shot to Stiles, on his hands and knees in front of him, blood dripping off his chin and one arm shaking in its attempt to hold his weight up. 

“Hey big guy,” Stiles forced out, the barest of smiles on his face. “Miss me?” 

When Derek went to lunge for him to crush him into a hug, Stiles panicked and shouted for him to stop. He was sure the only reason Derek actually managed it was because he hadn’t gotten enough traction on the marble floor with his polished shoes, and he only skid about a foot forward, just barely halting right in front of Stiles. 

“Don’t touch me,” Stiles forced out, gritting his teeth and putting his other hand back down before he collapsed. “If you move me, it might jostle him.” He didn’t have the energy to nod towards Schrader, but he knew Derek had figured it out. 

The broken expression on Derek’s face was the loudest apology Stiles had ever heard. 

“You didn’t know he was here, it’s not your fault. I know you came for me.” Stiles let out another cough, wheezing slightly and clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t know how long I can hold it. You need to save Jackson. If Schrader unfreezes before we get him out, he’s going to die.” 

Derek instantly straightened, eyes flashing red. He looked like he was about to tear someone’s face off if Jackson died, which was definitely a good thing, because Stiles really didn’t want him to die. He really liked Jackson, he was his friend.

Oh great, he was starting to have weird thoughts, that was a bad sign. He wished he could shake his head, but any movement risked unfreezing Schrader and he fucking hated that. At least if they could get the trigger out of his hand, that would make him feel better if time accidentally unfroze, but they didn’t have that option. 

Stiles quickly gave Derek directions to where Jackson was being held, and it wasn’t until Derek stood to get to him that a thought occurred to him and he panicked again. 

“Wait!” 

Derek turned back to him instantly, and Stiles inhaled wetly. Shit. 

“Wolfsbane. You can’t—if you go in the room, it’ll hurt you, too. Chris. We need—you have to unfreeze Chris.” 

The Werewolf turned to Peter and Chris without delay, and he grabbed at both of their shoulders, giving them one violent shake. Chris unfroze with a loud curse, and looked like he was reaching for a weapon at his hip before catching sight of Derek in front of him. Peter himself had shifted his weight in Derek’s direction, only to pause when he realized he wasn’t on the ground anymore. 

They both looked around, trying to get their bearings, and when Peter’s eyes finally landed on Stiles’ form, on his hands and knees and struggling to breathe while keeping the spell from collapsing around him, the man smiled. 

“Well done, little Spark.” 

“We need to get to Jackson,” Stiles said in response. “He’s gonna die.” 

“What?” Peter asked, tone hardening instantly. 

Stiles quickly relayed the same instructions he had to Derek, both about not touching anyone and about where Jackson was located. He told Chris he had be the one to enter the room because of the wolfsbane. Peter agreed to stay with Stiles, and while it was obvious Derek wanted to stay himself and have Peter be the one to go with Chris, the only reason the plan had gone to shit was because he’d shown up. He probably felt like he didn’t have room to argue but still, he hesitated. 

“You worry about Jackson,” Peter ordered him, hand on his shoulder and squeezing tightly. “I’ve got Stiles.” 

Derek still didn’t look like he wanted to go, but they were wasting time and Stiles was not going to hold this spell forever. It was crazy when he realized how much easier it had been back with Gerard. Twenty people was nothing. He hadn’t even felt drained, or tired or anything. 

Now he felt like he was fucking dying. 

Thankfully, Derek recognized he wasn’t going to be able to hold out forever and turned to follow after Chris. Moving through the sea of bodies seemed almost impossible, but they managed to make their way slowly towards the door mostly because of the path that had opened up to let Derek through. Some people had moved back into the way, but the two of them were managing to get around them without touching them. 

Peter moved in front of Stiles and crouched, eying him with concern. When he reached for him, Stiles tensed. 

“No, don’t touch me,” he snapped, feeling his lungs closing up for half a second before he got himself to inhale once more. “You’ll jostle Schrader.” 

“I’m not going to jostle anyone,” Peter promised, slowly reaching forward. “I’m going to take these off.” He tapped lightly at the cuffs around Stiles’ wrists, hands still planted firmly on the floor. “It’ll help at least a little.” 

“You can’t. If you move me—”

“Stiles,” Peter cut off, voice sharp. “I’m taking them off. Just hold still.” 

He didn’t exactly have room to argue, so he just grit his teeth and watched Peter slowly and carefully reach out for the cuff around his left wrist. He pressed on the release and pulled it open, Stiles grunting slightly at the feel of the spike leaving his skin. He hadn’t missed that feeling at all, and hoped he never felt it again. 

Peter pulled it away from his skin carefully before setting it down beside him. Stiles couldn’t say he felt better instantly, but he had to at least acknowledge that it made breathing a little easier. He was so used to the cuffs that he sometimes forgot they actually still did something. Sure, not much, considering, but they still drained him as best they could. Having three on was a new experience, so he was looking forward to getting them all off. 

When Peter reached for the second one, he took it off just as slowly and carefully, and Stiles let out a sharp, relieved exhale when it was removed. He still didn’t feel great, because this many people was still a lot, but he felt... not as close to dying as he did. Not that he was necessarily actually going to die, but he definitely felt better now. 

“I’m impressed,” Peter said once he’d set the second cuff down. “Last I checked, you couldn’t do this spell.” 

Stiles frowned, looking at him, confused. “I’ve done it before.”

“Willingly, I mean.” 

“Yeah, I’ve done it before,” Stiles said again. Then he realized what had happened the last time he’d done it. Everyone thought he’d gone Void. They hadn’t actually spoken about how Stiles had gotten everyone arrested, and he assumed Parrish and Tara hadn’t told the rest of the pack how he’d done it. 

Jackson obviously knew he could do it, given he’d been there the first time, and Derek had been there the second time Stiles had accidentally managed to do it. Really, the only people who’d actually seen it first hand were Tara and Parrish. Every time he mentioned this spell on raids leading up to Schrader, the others had probably assumed he wasn’t serious because he knew it wasn’t needed given their teamwork. 

It suddenly occurred to him that only a handful of people actually knew he’d mastered this spell. 

“It’s how we caught Gerard,” he said, Peter staring at him. “After Derek, Alex and Rose left, I froze time on purpose. My first time. I’m getting pretty good at it.” 

“I think that’s an understatement, little Spark.” Peter offered him a tight smile, and it occurred to Stiles that he was trying to keep him occupied. Like he wanted him to focus on something other than the amount of power it was taking to keep the spell active. 

It seemed to take an eternity for Derek and Chris to get Jackson, because Stiles was positive that hours had passed before movement caught his attention again. For a split second, he thought that the spell had broken, but then he saw Chris picking his way forward carefully, being sure to avoid touching anyone. 

“Derek just left with Jackson.” 

“How is he?” Peter asked, an edge to his voice. 

“Alive, but not in great shape.” His eyes snapped to Stiles when he made a small, distressed sound. “He’ll be okay. We have paramedics with us. Derek’s going to get the cavalry.” 

“Not how we wanted the night to go,” Peter mused, glancing around at all the people frozen around them. “But it’ll do. Whoever isn’t here, we can get a list from Schrader somehow.” 

“Are there still many people downstairs?” Chris asked Stiles, crouching slightly beside Peter so they were all at the same level. 

“Far as I know, Schrader’s got well over fifty Supes here. I don’t see that many out on display,” Stiles said, not that he was able to move and look around right now. 

“I’ll head back down and see what I can find,” Chris stood once more. “You okay here?” 

“I’ve got him,” Peter agreed. “We’ll manage.” 

Nodding, Chris turned to head back out of the large room. Once he was gone, Stiles shifted his gaze to the side, trying to see who was on the pedestals closest to him. He was worried about them. He didn’t want anyone to still be there if he let the spell snap. 

“Can you get them all down?” Stiles asked. 

“Them?” Peter frowned. 

“The others. Can you get to them and get them all out of here? Just in case.” 

Peter watched him for a moment, but he seemed to recognize how hard this was on him. It was clear he didn’t want to leave him alone, even if they’d still be in the same room, but he eventually stood and moved a few steps to the left. 

“Wait,” Stiles said, Peter turning back to him. “Can you start with the girl in white? She was on the other side of the room. Her name is Diana.” 

Peter looked like he wanted to say that was a dumb place to start, considering where they were currently located, but he just sighed like he was regretting every decision he’d ever made in his life and moved cautiously through the crowd back to the front. Stiles closed his eyes, still breathing hard and clenched his hands against the ground, trying to keep himself under control.

He was starting to feel marginally better, probably because he was down to one cuff now, but he still wished the so-called ‘cavalry’ would hurry the fuck up and get there. 

The second Diana was unfrozen, he knew, because she shrieked at Peter to get his hands off her and Stiles heard the distinct sound of a slap. He would’ve laughed any other time, but he didn’t have the energy right now.

He could tell she’d only panicked because one second she’d been alone on her pedestal and then suddenly some random guy was taking her down off it. He’d have panicked, too. 

Stiles didn’t know what was going on over there, but he was sure Peter was telling her to leave without touching anyone before making his way to the next person. He knew it’d be faster to have them work together, but he hoped they didn’t. He didn’t want to risk her touching someone  by accident and unfreezing them. 

He was still on his hands and knees, trying his best not to move, when he saw bare feet covered in a white shimmer heading in his direction. When he lifted his gaze, Diana was hurrying forward, looking terrified but also determined. She crouched in front of him, giving him a little bit more of a view than he was sure she’d meant to, but the dress truly was horrendously revealing. 

“Hold still,” she said quietly, and when she reached up, Stiles could see her wrists were bare. 

He opened his mouth to tell her not to touch him in case it jostled Schrader, but before he managed it, her fingers were at his throat. He felt like there was a band of ice around his neck for a second, and then she flicked the collar he wore and it cracked. 

It took him a second to realize she’d frozen it and was trying to remove it without touching the leash. Stiles liked to think that if the collar disappeared, the leash wouldn’t tug at Schrader’s hand. It would just fall away since it wasn’t connected to anything anymore.

That was the hope, anyway. Considering how terribly his night had gone, he wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t work out that way, but thankfully his luck held and when Diana carefully flicked at a portion near the back, she grabbed his arm to pull him forward and away. 

Stiles instantly reached up with both hands to break and tear at the remnants of the frozen collar, breathing hard once it was off and rubbing at his throat. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

Diana smiled, taking his hand in one of hers and squeezing tightly. Her hands were surprisingly warm for an ice Sprite. 

“Thank you. Your friend said you did this.” She motioned around them. “That you came to free us all. I was kind of wondering how anyone got a hold of the Spark, but I guess it makes sense if he gets caught on purpose.” She smiled slightly. “Thank you.” 

“Eh,” Stiles raised one hand in a lazy wave, still feeling drained but much better than he had been. “Don’t mention it.” 

Diana smiled and helped him to his feet. When he stumbled, he told her to set him back down. He didn’t want to fall into anyone, so it was safer for him to stay seated. 

She’d just gotten him back on the floor when Stiles heard what sounded like a fucking stampede coming through the house. Diana turned to the door, looking concerned, but Stiles knew it was just the police and government agents. 

He looked up at Schrader through narrowed eyes, barely able to stand the wait before the asshole was put into cuffs and his assets seized. 

“I can’t decide,” Stiles said darkly. 

Diana turned to him, still crouched beside him with one hand on his shoulder. She frowned slightly, the white makeup she wore making her look ethereal. “Decide what?” 

“Whether I want Kincaid to cuff him, or McCall.” 

Stiles didn’t manage to keep the spell up for much longer. He’d been wearing cuffs for two weeks, and even if he could still do magic with them, he’d used a lot of exhausting healing magic on Jackson, and had gone a bit above his own limit with freezing everything. 

It didn’t end up being a problem though. The police prioritized getting the victims out first, one of them coming to fetch Diana. They managed to do it with minimal jostling. A few people were unfrozen, but restrained before they could shove and break the spell on more people. 

Peter came back to Stiles’ side once the police took over his job, and he wrapped his suit jacket around Stiles’ shoulders. He was still crouched beside him when the spell broke. By then, all the victims had been evacuated from the room, and a few of the accidentally unfrozen people had also been taken away. 

It was pandemonium once the spell broke though and Peter snarled while covering Stiles as best he could with his body. The number of agents and police present, while fewer in number, were still extremely well-equipped to deal with the chaos, and Stiles was pleased when not a single person managed to escape. 

Agent McCall did end up being the one to cuff Schrader, and the man looked murderous while it was happening, glaring down at Stiles hatefully. 

“You’ll pay for this,” he snarled viciously. 

“That’s my line.” Stiles smiled, his teeth a stark white against the black paint he wore. “Enjoy prison, asshole.” 

“Let’s go.” McCall gave the man a rough shove while leading him out of the room. Stiles watched them go while others worked at arresting the rest of the people left in the room. 

Now that it was getting a little emptier, he realized how cold he was. It may have been spring outside, but with the looming heat, the air conditioner inside the mansion was on full blast and he was wearing booty shorts. It had been fine back when there had been tons of bodies in the room, but now, not so much. He was glad for Peter’s jacket. 

Besides, he was sure the cold wasn’t all the air con. It was probably also because of the magic deficiency.

“So be honest,” Stiles said, Peter beside him with one arm around his shoulders, likely to try and keep him warm, “do these booty shorts make my butt look big?” 

Peter let out an aggrieved sigh before turning to look at him. “You’re an idiot.” 

“I notice you didn’t answer my question. Maybe I should cut back on the sugar.” 

“Thank God, my relief is here before I hit you.” 

“What?” Stiles turned and saw Derek hurrying towards him. He’d probably been kept out while the police and agents were getting everyone organized, but Stiles was sure Derek hadn’t let them bully him around for long. 

The place was mostly cleared out anyway. 

Derek was in front of him instantly, hands on either cheek and inspecting him from head to toe. Stiles just offered him a lazy smile and leaned forward into his touch. Derek shifted to wrap him in a tight hug, and it felt so nice to be pressed against him again. 

Two weeks wasn’t long in the grand scheme of things. Nothing like five months. But still, to be away from the people he cared about, to be alone with an always-on-the-cusp-of-death Jackson, to be scared and worried about what was coming next...

It was so nice to be back in familiar territory. 

He curled his fingers in the back of Derek’s suit, burying his face in his neck. “Missed you,” he said quietly. 

The squeeze he got in return said he’d missed him, too. 

“Kind of anti-climactic, right?” Stiles asked once he’d pulled away, though he leaned heavily into Derek, who kept his arms around him protectively. It was nice, it was keeping Stiles warm. “We were all expecting some big gun-wielding showdown, and instead it was just a brief scuffle before everyone kind of surrendered.” Actually, when Stiles thought about it, it was kind of like Gerard all over again. No big explosions or crazy, maniacal laughter, or any of that awesome Hollywood shit. Just a bunch of cops and agents rushing into a huge room and cuffing people who were too rich to know how to defend themselves.

Really, only the Hunters had been any trouble, and even they hadn’t put up much of a fight. It was almost disappointing. 

“It’s better this way,” Peter said, looking around at what remained of the enemies being taken away. “Any time we can win a fight without actually having to fight and put lives at risk is best.” 

Stiles hummed in understanding, because Peter wasn’t wrong. He was much happier having everyone safe than to have had the risk of a gunfight breaking out and someone shooting at him and Peter. He knew Peter would’ve protected him with his life, and Derek would’ve run in no matter what at the first shot, so it was probably best things hadn’t gone down that road.

Very cool to watch on the screen. A little less so to watch from up close. 

“You’re probably right,” Stiles agreed. 

Their short reunion didn’t last long, because Kincaid came back after most of the room had cleared out. The agent eyed him briefly while Derek held him protectively, and let out a small hum. 

“You look surprisingly good in that paint,” he informed him. 

Derek snarled and Stiles flipped him off. Kincaid didn’t react to either action. 

“We need to take your statement.” 

Oh. Right. That. Ugh, Stiles so wasn’t in the mood for that right now. Not after everything he’d just been through. It had been quite the night. 

But, it was part of the deal, so Stiles asked for clothes first and the three of them were led out of the room. 

When Stiles got outside, it was insane how many cars and flashing lights he could see, but he didn’t focus on them for too long. He just followed Kincaid towards one of the black, unmarked SUVs, Derek pressed against his side with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and Peter on his other side. He had to wonder if the cars had on-off switches for the magic that made them less noticeable, because he felt like they were hard to ignore right now. They must have, otherwise even Derek and Peter wouldn’t be paying attention to them.

Besides, if there was no off switch, people who weren’t like him would climb out of the car and never find it again. Actually, now he was envisioning Kincaid wandering aimlessly through a parking garage trying to find his own car. It helped make him feel a fraction of a percent better.

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him, likely at the smirk on his face, but he waved it away as unimportant and they all climbed into the SUV, Peter in the back with Derek and Stiles since McCall had taken the passenger seat. Evidently he didn’t want the FBI cut out of this conversation. 

Surprisingly, they weren’t brought to some huge government facility, but instead to the hospital. Kincaid wanted to get Stiles checked out to make sure he was okay, which he was. Mostly, anyway. He was suffering from magic deficiency, but after five uncomfortable hours of poking and prodding, they didn’t have any other news for the agents about him. All his injuries had healed themselves with his magic once he’d gotten enough sugar into him, so he figured whatever he’d done to his insides to cough up blood had healed along with them. 

Jackson was in the same hospital, in critical condition, but Peter just insisted that he was a tough asshole and he’d be fine. Ethan and Aiden were with him, which was when Stiles found out just how many of the pack had shown up. 

Cora, Boyd, and Scott were back at the hotel, having been sent off after Jackson had been admitted since the twins were more than enough to keep an eye on him. Chris and Parrish were out with the local police, likely to make sure none of them were getting bought off, though Stiles was positive the CIA and FBI were on top of that. 

And of course, Derek and Peter were sticking close to Stiles. 

Once he was discharged from the hospital, Kincaid and McCall took him to the police station. Apparently that was the agreement because they’d fought earlier over which agency’s headquarters he’d be taken to and Parrish had been the one to snap for them to just go to the police and save everyone the headache. 

Stiles refused to give his statement without Derek in the room, because they’d been apart long enough, and really, he kind of needed some comfort after the fucking rollercoaster of emotions he’d felt the past few hours. Kincaid bitched about it, but McCall didn’t care. From his perspective, Derek may as well have been a fucking painting, given he couldn’t speak, so it wasn’t like he was going to either repeat what he heard, feed Stiles lines, or interrupt the conversation. 

Peter waited outside, but Stiles knew he could hear him. He told the two agents everything about what he knew, and was positive Jackson could tell them more given his enhanced hearing. He still had paint all over his body, the hospital only having rubbed off a bit of it to get needles into his arms or access parts of his skin they needed to, so it was a rather uncomfortable hour and a half for him. 

When he was finally told he could go, they headed out to the front together where Chris and Parrish were waiting with Peter. 

Without missing a beat, Stiles closed the distance and punched Chris as hard as he could across the face. The man stumbled, almost tripping over some chairs and falling on his ass, but Parrish managed to grab at him before he fell and both Peter and Derek grabbed for Stiles when he went to take another swing. 

“Don’t you ever put the people I care about in danger again,” Stiles hissed angrily. “I don’t care what you’ve done for me, but Jackson almost died in that place. If you ever risk someone I love like that again, you will be very, very sorry.” 

A few officers had approached, likely to ensure things didn’t escalate, but Chris only nodded once curtly, reaching up to brush the back of one hand lightly against his smarting cheek. 

“It was never my intention to put Jackson in harm’s way. I apologize for what he went through. And what you did at the sight of him. I know it must’ve been difficult seeing him suffer like that. I’m sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles clenched his jaw, still extremely pissed, but a part of him recognized it wasn’t Chris’ fault. He was just fucking mad that he’d almost lost Jackson because of the idea Chris had had. It wasn’t that it was a bad idea, just... they should’ve thought it through more. Sure, Jackson could’ve worked harder at looking weak when the wolfsbane hit, but it wasn’t like either of them had been warned that Schrader was genius-levels of smart. Jackson hadn’t exactly been obvious, but apparently obvious enough for someone like Schrader.

“How many people did we save?” Stiles asked, voice curt while turning away from Chris. He wasn’t going to acknowledge the apology, but he wasn’t going to hit him again, either. At least, so long as he stopped looking at him. He just headed for the station’s exit so they could get the fuck out of there. 

He didn’t know if the others had already given their statements, or if they just didn’t need to. To be fair, wasn’t like Chris and Peter would’ve had long statements to give, considering their short stint in the house. 

“They’re still being looked over and interviewed, but the last number I got was one-hundred and twelve, excluding you and Jackson,” Parrish answered. 

“Wow,” Stiles said, honestly shocked. He knew Schrader had a huge collection, but he hadn’t realized there were that many. He’d heard from some of the others in the shower room that Schrader had a huge underground maze of rare Supernaturals, but how many of them could honestly be classified as ‘rare’ if he had over a hundred of them?! 

Then again, he also remembered Chris talking about how he was a Supernatural trader, so it was entirely possible a majority of them weren’t actually rare and just regular Supernaturals being kept captive for eventual sale. 

“We can’t accommodate that many people,” Peter said with a small frown while they headed for the lot. Stiles figured Parrish and Chris had a car for them, since he and the two Hales had arrived in Kincaid’s SUV. 

“We can’t,” Parrish agreed. “Trouble is, a majority of them don’t seem too keen on the government having them in their grasp. Most of them agreed to go off with whoever was assigned to them, but I spoke to all of them in groups before they were taken away, like you asked. Gave them Alex’s usual spiel, and I’d say a good ninety percent of them want to join the pack.” 

“That’s too many,” Peter said, lips turning down slightly. “I don’t want to turn away anyone who has nowhere to go, but—”

“Call Satomi,” Stiles said instantly, stopping and turning to Peter. “Call Satomi and tell her what happened. I’m sure she can spare some room, and she’s got an amazing pack. And she probably knows other packs that she trusts. We can probably spread them all out across a few different packs, just so that they don’t end up in the government’s hands.” 

“Most of them will want to be with the Spark,” Peter informed him pointedly. 

“Satomi’s pack is an ally. And I’m sure we can make friendly with whatever other packs she recommends.” He shrugged. “We’ll figure it out, but we have to find them places to go so that they can stay free. No one wants to trade one cage for another. Take it from someone who knows.” 

Derek tightened his grip on Stiles’ shoulders, likely in apology given how Stiles had grown up and lived the past few years. It was one prison after another, really. Up until he’d really gotten his Spark powers under control, he’d never really had any freedom. 

“I’ll call Satomi,” Parrish confirmed when they were all silent for too long. “I’ll find out how many she can take, and call Isaac to see how much room we can spare back home. We’ll divvy people up from there.” 

“One thing,” Stiles said, turning to Parrish. “There’s a girl, Diana. She’s an ice Sprite. If she was one of the rares who wants to stay with us, she comes to Beacon Hills.” 

Parrish nodded, and when Stiles turned back to Derek, he got a cocked eyebrow in inquiry. Stiles just shrugged. 

“I like her. She was nice. And she kind of reminds me of Jackson in that she was caged for most of her life, but kept her spirit. I think she’ll fit in well with the rest of our pack.” 

Derek just shrugged in a, “Whatever you say,” sort of way and then pulled him slightly with the arm still around his shoulders, making him walk again. 

They finally reached the rental car, Parrish having parked it a ways down the road since most of the lot was full of government vehicles. It was a regular four-door Sedan and Stiles was crammed into the middle in the back between the two Hales again. 

When they got to the hotel, it was awkward having Stiles walk through the lobby painted black from head to toe, wearing a pair of dark blue sweats and a white shirt the FBI had been kind enough to give him, since apparently the CIA hadn’t had the forethought. The shirt contrasted against his painted skin, and he felt like his entire appearance clashed horribly with Peter’s jacket still around his shoulders. 

Derek had a protective arm around him and snarled at anyone who looked their way. Stiles knew it was more in an attempt to save him the embarrassment than protectiveness, but he didn’t think the snarling was helping. 

The pack members were spread out across three rooms, but they all crowded the corridor when they heard them coming. Cora hugged him so tightly that he was sure a few vertebrae popped. Boyd quietly gave them an update on Jackson while Scott offered Stiles various sandwiches and pudding cups. 

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until his eyes landed on a sandwich held out to him and he practically inhaled it, almost choking. Food was a luxury they had been denied frequently. He couldn’t wait to get home and have some diner food. 

They went into one of the rooms so everyone could be brought up to speed, and Stiles took the opportunity to grab a shower since he wanted out of this gross paint now. 

Despite standing under the spray for almost an hour, and scrubbing so hard he was hurting himself, the paint used on him had stained his skin. It had all come off, the water running clear when it went down the drain, but he still had a black hue to his skin that was way too reminiscent of Void for comfort. 

Still, he gave up when he was sure he’d use up all the hot water and eventually stepped out. No one said anything about his appearance when he exited the bathroom in a loose shirt and some sweats they’d brought from home, but it was clear they’d noticed his sour mood over it. Derek just wrapped an arm around him and kissed his temple when Stiles fell down beside him on the closest bed. 

They hadn’t been planning on spending another night, having only booked the bare minimum of rooms since they’d arrived the day before. They were supposed to be leaving once Stiles and Jackson were out and had given their statements, but with Jackson still in the hospital with wolfsbane poisoning, they had no choice but to stick around. 

Stiles didn’t mind, he was glad to be back with his pack, even if there was more bed sharing than the rest of the people present were happy with. 

Boyd and Cora took the other bed in the room with Derek and Stiles. Chris, Peter, Parrish and Scott managed to have a bed each only because Aiden and Ethan didn’t come back from the hospital that night. 

Stiles slept badly, worrying about Jackson, and it felt like it took entirely too long for him to get better.

They ended up staying in town three days after the rescue, Peter and Parrish making various phonecalls around for packs that they knew and trusted to take a few rares. Satomi, of course, was the first call and agreed she could spare room for at least twenty-seven. It was a lot more than Stiles expected, and he was grateful. 

Their pack could handle another twelve, which was really unfortunate, but it was the best they could do considering how many others they’d already saved. 

By the time they were done with calling around, including the packs Satomi knew and trusted, they managed to find places for about eighty-five percent of the people who wanted to stick with a pack. Peter ended up calling the mayor to find out if maybe the town would be willing to house extra guests since they’d already basically exhausted the other areas they could shove people, including Stiles’ old house. 

When Jackson was released from the hospital and they were getting ready to head home, they got good news that a lot of the townspeople of Beacon Hills were willing to take in one or two people, as space permitted. Stiles was overwhelmed when he heard Sal the construction worker had agreed to take in five people. Five! 

And the old man in the house where Gerard had been arrested, Robert Davis, had agreed to take in seven, because he had room to spare and could use some help around the house now that he was getting up there in age. 

Beacon Hills really was an amazing place to live, and Stiles was so grateful his mother had moved there. 

They met Jackson at the hospital, and the guy broke away from the twins when he spotted Stiles, kind of hobbling his way over to him as fast as he could. Stiles showed him mercy and met him halfway, hugging him tightly once they reached one another, Derek having followed after him slowly. 

Jackson let out a slow exhale against Stiles’ skin, holding him tightly before smacking his back a few times and pulling away. 

“Thanks Stilinski.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said in response. “I wish I could’ve done more.”

“You did enough,” Jackson grunted, the twins reaching them, both with their hands in their pockets and looking eerily identical in that moment while staring at the pair of them. “You helped more than you know.” 

“We saved over a hundred people,” Stiles said, because he needed Jackson to know his suffering hadn’t been for nothing. 

“I heard. Word has it Diana’s pretty excited to be coming home with us.” 

“Her and Erica are gonna be a nightmare together,” Stiles said with a sigh. 

Jackson smirked, shaking his head. “I was thinking the same thing.” 

Stiles had no idea how he’d gone from living alone with his father to this giant found family, but he was so grateful for it. 

He loved all these people with everything he had, and he couldn’t wait to see what was coming next. 

“Come on, pretty boy,” Stiles said, slapping Jackson in the back before turning to melt back against Derek’s side. “Let’s go home.” 

Stiles was going to sit down on the couch with a pizza, some brownies, a bad movie, and a hot Werewolf boyfriend wrapped around him for a week when he got back to the loft. 

He couldn’t wait. 

Sweat beaded across Stiles’ forehead as he concentrated, Jackson snapping at him to watch it when he almost hit him in the head with the beam he was levitating onto the roof. Stiles snarled something rude back at him, but was too busy trying to focus to figure out what had come out of his own mouth.

For all he knew, he’d told Jackson he looked like a fish. It was hard to be creative with insults when one wrong move would have him crush Boyd and Isaac. 

When he finally lowered the beam into their waiting hands, he broke off and let his hands drop, breathing hard and wiping his hand across his forehead. The two Werewolves repositioned themselves to set the item up accordingly while one of the town’s engineers was off to the side speaking to Peter. 

“Here you go!” 

Stiles turned to look beside him at Rose, who was beaming up at him while holding out a juice box. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face and took it from her. 

“Thank you.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of neighbours, huh?” she asked, looking over at the new house being built. 

“Yup,” Stiles agreed. 

“I’m sad for the trees.”

He reached out to pull her into a small, one-armed hug. “Me too, kiddo. But that just means we’ll have to plant as many as we can around the paths once all the houses are built.” 

That made her smile up at him happily and then she gasped and went to grab another juice box before skipping over to Derek, who’d just come around from the back of the house. He looked particularly delicious, wearing jeans and a soaked-through white tank top. It was getting warmer by the day, but the number of people they had to accommodate wasn’t getting any smaller. 

The good thing about having so many people was that they all came from different walks of life, and while before it had mostly been the pack and a few construction workers who’d agreed to lend their services for free—courtesy of Sal, who was fucking amazing—now it was so much more. 

Devon was an Elemental like Rose, but he could control wood and leaves—kind of like some weird tree-specific Elemental—and he’d been insanely useful in getting them lumber since he could basically flick his hand and have perfectly even planks of wood laid out in seconds. 

Janice was a Valkyrie—because apparently, that was a real thing and not just Tessa Thompson looking dope in a Marvel movie—and while her abilities didn’t do much on the usefulness front, she was also an electrician by trade before she’d been taken by Schrader’s men, so she was basically single-handedly setting up the nearly completed house a few yards to the left. 

They also had Max and Jessica, both of whom were engineers, as well as a lot of power-type Supernaturals like Jackson, Alex and the Weres, meaning they could carry heavy objects that normal humans would need cranes and forklifts for. 

Having help meant they were moving along more quickly than they had been, because they could work on multiple houses at once. They’d already finished up two in the past two weeks, and were almost done with a third once the wiring was complete. 

Stiles and the original pack were working on the fourth and he knew that Alex, Devon the wood Elemental, and some other newbies were already working on starting the foundation for a fifth. At the rate they were going, they’d probably finish up before winter, which was kind of the plan.

It was harder during the week though, since all the townspeople had jobs, and some of the new people had managed to snag their own jobs, but everyone made time to help out. 

The owner of the diner Boyd worked at actually came out once a week with free food for the workers, and more than once other townspeople who weren’t able to help had dropped by with household items to furnish the new places with, along with food and drinks to keep everyone’s energy up.

It overwhelmed Stiles every time he saw how much this town cared, and he was going to protect every last person in it to his dying breath. Not that he was too concerned anymore, given news of what had happened at Schrader’s had spread like wildfire. 

Chris had confirmed that the ‘underworld’ had heard about the Spark’s latest victory, how he’d taken down Schrader—who was extremely well known, though Stiles hadn’t realized how well known until now—and almost fifty other top-tier Collectors and Hunters all in one go. 

People were afraid of this pack. 

This pack, with the cursed Alpha, who was fiercely protective of those he cared about.

With the quiet but deadly strategist, who hid his malicious intentions behind jovial smiles and cutting remarks. 

With the loud and angry Kanima, who pretended he cared about nothing and no one but would murder anyone who touched his family.

With the Banshee who just wanted to belong, and the Hellhound who’d made friends despite his Supernatural race. With the Metamorph who’d longed for a safe space to rest her head, accompanied by the young earth Elemental who just wanted to live a normal life. With the Hunter and his daughter, who didn’t want to hurt people, and needed help finding a way to escape from the life they’d never asked for. 

With the Spark, who’d known nothing about what he was, and had gained a giant, loving family along the way. 

People spoke about the Hale pack, which was over fifty members strong, and they knew never to cross them. They spoke about the town they lived in, where setting foot across the line with the intent to harm anyone in it would have the people rise up against them. They spoke about this place like it wasn’t even real anymore, but it was plenty real to Stiles, because this was the place his mother had called home. This was the place his father had kept their house.

This was the place Stiles was going to spend the rest of his life, with the cursed Alpha, and the deadly strategist, and the loud, angry Kanima. 

This was home. This was his family. He never thought he’d be able to have that before, considering how he’d grown up, and some days he still felt overwhelmed when he thought about it. 

He wished his dad were still here. He hoped he was watching, somehow. He hoped he could see that Stiles was doing okay. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Stiles jumped, almost choking on the juice he’d been sipping. Well, more on the straw, since he’d finished the juice box a while ago and had mostly just been sucking air and chewing on the plastic. He turned and found Deaton standing beside him, not even having heard him approach.

He was wearing his usual mysterious smile and had his hands clasped in front of himself. Stiles didn’t see much of Deaton anymore. Sure, he saw him around, and the few pack meetings they’d had, the man had been invited, but he wasn’t really pack anymore since retiring as Emissary so he wasn’t around for the Christmas party or any of the events Peter put on. Even before his retirement he hadn’t really been invited. Stiles felt inclined to believe Peter didn’t like him much. 

And to be fair, those events were usually only for the original pack, including the Argents, Jackson, the twins, Alex and Rose. They were basically part of the original pack, at this point, since they were the people who’d joined before everyone had gone wild letting captured Supernaturals stick around town. 

Stiles and Erica were still arguing to let Diana be part of the original pack events, but Peter hadn’t budged on that front. 

As predicted, Erica and Diana were like two peas in a pod, it was terrifying to everyone around them. Mostly Boyd, who just looked so tired every time Stiles saw him. He kind of felt bad for the guy, it must be hard having two high energy girls around all the time. 

“Hey,” Stiles said to Deaton, offering him a small nod. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. How have things been at work?” 

“Busy,” Deaton said with a smile, turning back to the house. “But it always is. Scott’s been a great help, but school made it difficult for him to maintain more hours. With summer finally here, it’s been nice having a full time staff member around. Things were beginning to get a little overwhelming.” 

Stiles didn’t comment on the fact that Deaton could just hire more people, but that was a battle Scott had already lost. Deaton was fond of him, and he wasn’t really willing to take on anyone else. Besides, Scott was guaranteed a job after graduation, and it paid really well, so he wasn’t complaining. 

Much, anyway. The long hours made dates with Allison harder. 

“I’m glad things are going well,” Stiles said, looking back at the house as well. He smiled when his eyes caught sight of Derek, who was carrying Rose in one arm while she held the juice box up for him to drink from, and was giving out random orders to the people around her, pointing her free hand at them. 

It was cute. Stiles loved that Rose was so enamoured with Derek. And Derek was so good with her, it made him happy to watch them together. 

Derek was definitely her favourite after Alex. 

“How have things been with him?” Deaton asked. Stiles turned to him with a frown, not sure he understood, but the man smiled and motioned Derek. “I know you weren’t comfortable finding out you were his Emissary, but I trust things have been going well?” 

“Better than I thought,” Stiles admitted. “I guess once I really just figured out I already basically was his Emissary, it made it easier for me. I just had to keep doing what I was doing.” 

“Indeed.” Deaton smiled. “And your relationship with Derek? How has that been going?” 

Stiles knew he had a dopey smile similar to Scott’s at the question, and he tried to pull it back to something less embarrassing. 

“Good,” he admitted, facing Derek and Rose again. “Really good. Sometimes I can’t believe he’s not sick of me yet, but I’m going to keep him as long as he’ll have me.” 

Deaton hummed, and when he spoke next, Stiles turned to him sharply, not at all liking where this conversation was going. 

“Are you sure about this? You and Derek, I mean.” 

“Of course I am,” he snapped, facing him fully and crossing his arms. He felt ridiculous trying to look intimidating while holding a juice box in one hand, but he didn’t let that bother him. He just stared down Deaton. 

He held one hand up in a calming manner, as if silently trying to tell him he meant no offense, and when he continued, Stiles understood why he’d asked. 

“You’ll truly be the last,” he said quietly, eyes roving over every inch of Stiles’ face, as if searching his expression for something. “If you stay with Derek, if you don’t procreate, you’ll be the last.” 

The last. Stiles knew he was the last Spark. People reminded him of that all the time. Every person who’d ever come after him was a reminder. Every time the Hales got overprotective was a reminder. Every time Stiles used magic was a reminder. 

The last Spark in existence. The absolute last one ever. Deaton was right, if he didn’t have kids, then the line ended with him. Sparks were born, not made. While it was true they’d once been made, that was also true of every other Supernatural creature. Each one of them didn’t exist at one point, and then they did. Sparks were no different, except unlike Vampires or Werewolves, they couldn’t just pop up conveniently. They had to be born from another Spark, and if Stiles was the last, he was the only one who could create another Spark. 

He looked back over at Derek, who was beaming at Rose and holding his free hand up for a high-five, which she very happily gave him. He shifted her around so she was on his shoulders, and then motioned for her to tell Erica off, because she was slacking in her duties helping Isaac and Scott install a window, which she was extremely good at doing. Rose very happily—and loudly—obliged. 

“I think I’ve lived enough of a life as a Spark to know I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else,” Stiles finally said, smiling slightly at the sight of his boyfriend with Rose. Maybe he did want kids, just not his own. He could adopt, just like Alex had officially done with Rose recently, courtesy of a lot of help from Peter. He was sure Derek wouldn’t mind in a few years, when they were both more settled and could actually afford to have a kid of their own. “I’m fine being the last Spark.” He turned back to Deaton and shrugged one shoulder, arms still crossed. “I’m fine letting the Prawdzik line die with me. I’m fine letting the Gevaudan line finally be free of their oath.” 

Deaton nodded once, turning to look over at Derek and Rose. “I suppose you’re right. Nobody could understand the hardships of a Spark as much as a Spark could. If this is what you think is best for everyone, I can respect that decision.” 

“There’s always going to be someone out there who becomes ‘the most rare Supernatural being in existence,’” Stiles agreed with a small sigh. “But as far as I know, even the rarest of the rares has more than one. Being a Spark isn’t fair to anyone, least of all the Spark themselves. Maybe even less for the Hales. They’ve done enough. They’ve protected me and mine for centuries. I think it’s only fair to set them free.” 

“You seem very good at freeing people,” Deaton acquiesced with a small smile. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you.” 

Stiles laughed slightly, uncrossing his arms and rubbing the back of his head with his free hand before sighing. “Well, here’s to hoping that things change over the next few years. I’d like for people to be able to live in freedom and peace, no matter how rare they are.” 

“If you work at it, I have no doubt you’ll succeed,” Deaton said, inclining his head slightly before turning to head back the way he’d come. “After all, you’ve succeeded at everything else.” 

“Not yet,” Stiles insisted quietly, eyes on Derek. 

He was laughing at something Rose had just said to Erica, who looked red-faced and furious and was trying to pick a fight with a nine-year old. 

Hearing him laugh felt so good, but Stiles couldn’t help the ache in his chest when he was again reminded that that was the most he’d ever heard come out of Derek’s mouth. 

“You’ll succeed at that too, I’m sure,” he heard Deaton say softly from behind him. 

Stiles frowned and turned, watching the Druid’s back while he walked away.

As much as he wished that were true, Stiles honestly wasn’t so sure. 

“You like wolves, right?”

Stiles paused in sipping his Coke, cocking an eyebrow at Diana while she poked at Jackson in annoyance because he was encroaching on her personal space. 

Jackson ignored her, like an asshole. If he wasn’t careful, Diana was going to freeze his pants to the booth or something. 

Actually, their first real meeting had been somewhat comical. She hadn’t been informed before she left with the agents that Jackson wasn’t actually the cursed Alpha Derek Hale, so when she’d shown up at Beacon Hills with the others who’d been provided accommodations in the town, she’d been so startled at Jackson’s loud cursing that she’d accidentally frozen a nearby fountain. 

She’d been embarrassed, but Stiles had thought it was cute. He’d had to explain the whole story to her so that she now knew Jackson was actually Jackson, and the big lovable marshmallow beside him was Derek.

It’d taken her a while to get the names straight, since she’d been calling Jackson ‘Derek’ for two weeks, but she mostly had it down by now. 

“I mean, I like them well enough,” Stiles informed her, putting his Coke down. “But I wouldn’t say they’re my favourite.” 

Derek turned an offended look his way. 

“Except for you, you’re my favourite, promise,” Stiles insisted, patting his arm lightly and smirking. Derek didn’t seem convinced, but before Stiles could say anything else, Diana had her hand held out to him. 

“Here!” 

Stiles stared at her outstretched hand, then slowly reached out to take the small wolf figurine she’d made with her powers. Her ice magic was really impressive, and every time he saw her, she made him a different little ice statue. He loved them all, and he actually kept them, though he didn’t tell her that.

Their freezer was getting full, Stiles needed to figure out a way to keep them without melting. He wondered if there was a spell he could use to turn them from ice to glass, then he could just set up a bookshelf and lay them out on there. 

“Why would you give this to me now?” he whined, staring at the cute little wolf. It was in the process of howling at an invisible moon. “It’s summer, and we’re still eating, it’ll melt!” 

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t until we leave,” she promised, setting her hand down by his plate. When she pulled it away, a part of the table was covered in ice and he carefully set it down on its little frozen pedestal. 

“Thanks,” he said with a smile, Derek’s hand finding his back and rubbing up and down his spine. He felt like Derek always did that to remind himself that Stiles was right beside him, not that he minded one bit, he never got tired of Derek being close. “You know you don’t have to do that for me all the time, right?” 

“I want to,” she insisted with a kind smile. “You’re the reason I’m here. And you’re gonna have to get used to it, because I’m sure everyone you’ve ever saved is going to remind you of that fact for the rest of their lives.” 

“What about me?” Jackson demanded, affronted. “I was there too! I almost died, you know!” 

“You’re an asshole, you get nothing,” she said coldly, Stiles bursting into laughter at Jackson’s outraged expression. 

Diana just held her hand out with an annoyed eye roll, and Jackson’s face shifted into something a bit less angry and a bit more cocky when he snatched the hand raising its middle finger from her palm. 

“Sweet. Stilinski, put this with your wolf.” 

“No, I’m not putting a ‘fuck you’ with my wolf,” Stiles insisted, trying to protect his little ice sculpture with both hands. “My wolf is sacred!” 

“Stop being a dick, put it with your wolf before it melts!” 

“I said no!” 

“How can you stand these children?” Diana asked Derek with a sigh while Jackson tried to get his own ice sculpture around Stiles’ hands without breaking either of their gifts. 

Derek just shrugged, but Stiles knew he was secretly saying, “Lots of exposure.” 

“And patience,” Stiles insisted, finally conceding defeat and allowing Jackson to put his sculpture down beside his wolf. He leaned over to kiss Derek’s cheek, his beard tickling his lips. 

“How can you stand to kiss him?” Jackson asked with a scowl. “His beard’s a mess, he looks like a lumberjack.” 

“A sexy lumberjack,” Stiles insisted with a grin. “You’re just jealous you can’t grow a beard, baby-face.” 

“Wha—I could grow a beard if I wanted to!” he shot back angrily. 

Stiles just laughed and started teasing him about not being able to grow a beard, even as people started turning to look at them because they were being loud and stupid. Diana sighed and tried to sink lower in her seat. Derek was used to it, so he just smirked while sipping at his coffee, free hand still rubbing at Stiles’ back. 

It was nice to be able to just sit and banter with Jackson for a bit. Things had been so busy and hectic the past few weeks that nobody had really gotten much of a break. Even now, the only reason they were sitting in the diner having lunch instead of back at the Preserve helping with the houses was because Derek and Stiles were supposed to have a meeting with the school principal.

He’d double-booked them with someone else, and had been about to cancel on the other meeting when Stiles insisted they could come back. He asked if they could wait an hour and then he’d be free, so they’d figured rather than go back to the Preserve, help for half an hour, and then have to leave again, they could just take a much deserved break and have some lunch at the diner. 

Diana had already been there getting ready to order, and Jackson had texted Stiles to ask when he was expected back from the meeting, and shown up at the diner when Stiles told him it had been postponed and he and Derek were grabbing food. 

A happy accident, but they’d all been working hard, so it was a nice break. Diana tended to head out to the Preserve every now and then, but her powers didn’t help much in the building of houses and she wasn’t very strong. She usually just showed up on the hotter days so she could use her ice powers to provide some relief, but she had to be careful because the heat affected her, too. 

Still, Stiles liked that she couldn’t help in the conventional sense, and showed up to do what she could anyway. It was nice. 

His new and improved pack was amazing. 

“So why are you going to see the principal, anyway?” Diana asked, popping a fry in her mouth and chewing while staring at Stiles. 

“A lot of the people we picked up were taken when they were still minors,” Stiles said. He didn’t add, “You included,” but he knew she figured that out for herself. “A lot of them didn’t have the chance to finish school. We just wanted to see what options were available so that everyone could get an education. Maybe have one class for all the students who are starting from the bottom, you know? It would be a bit overwhelming to stick them right in school with teenagers, but if we can get a kind of separate class where they can all be together and help each other out, I think it’ll be less scary since nobody wants to feel stupid for something outside their control.” 

Diana’s smile was bright, and grateful. “That’s really amazing of you. Thank you for thinking of that, I’m sure you’ll make a lot of people happy.”

She didn’t say, “Me included,” but she didn’t have to. Stiles knew she was thinking it. 

“Yeah, we just want to help people.” He rocked into Derek lightly, turning to smile at him when the Werewolf cocked an eyebrow at him. “That’s what we do, right Alpha?” 

Derek rolled his eyes, and poked at Stiles’ forehead to insist it was what he did. Stiles disagreed, but that was a fight he’d have with him later. 

“Well, I’m glad I met you, Stiles.” Diana smiled at him. “You’re an amazing person.” 

“Yeah,” Jackson agreed quietly, like he was hoping nobody had heard him. 

“Agreed,” Derek’s kiss to his temple said. 

Stiles just smiled, because he didn’t think he would’ve been anything at all if not for the people in his life. 

He really, really cared for all the people he’d met, and he adored his giant found family. 

And he loved Derek. 

He loved Derek. 

Summer was in full swing when Peter had another original pack event. He allowed Diana to come as an exception, but wasn’t happy about it. Stiles knew he was worried that inviting her meant eventually they’d start inviting everyone, but that wasn’t the case.

They were all close with their new packmates, but there were just some people they were closer with than others. Like Jackson. Like Alex and Rose. Like the twins. 

Like Diana. 

Stiles honestly didn’t know that he and Jackson would’ve stayed sane in Schrader’s house without her. Well, mostly Stiles. Jackson was almost always in too much pain to really focus on anything, but having no one to talk to about how worried he was hadn’t been easy on Stiles. Diana had really helped keep him sane, and the more time he spent with her, the more he loved her. 

Honestly, he was looking forward to having her around for Christmas, because she could make it snow on command, and she promised to freeze the lake in the Preserve so that they could all go ice skating somewhere free. It didn’t usually get cold enough to freeze the large lake to a degree that made it safe to skate on, but Diana assured them she could definitely change that. 

That meant Stiles would finally get to watch Rose help Derek ice skate, and he couldn’t wait. 

It was weird to realize this was his life, now. Stiles honestly couldn’t say he was upset about it, not by a long shot, but it was crazy to realize that this was his life. He was a Spark, an all-powerful magical being, and he’d managed to save and protect so many rare Supernaturals that he’d lost count. 

Their pack was massive, and full of people who could do things few others on the planet could, and they were so protected that only a suicidal idiot would come after them. 

Gerard was gone. Kate was gone. Jennifer was gone. Deucalion was gone. Everyone who’d ever tried to hurt him or control him was gone. Hunters heard about the Hale pack and were afraid. People spoke of the Spark in hushed tones, never suggesting coming after him, and only whispering their fear or praise. He didn’t want to be someone people feared, but it was better for people to be afraid of him and leave him and his alone, than for them to think he was a pushover and learn the hard way that he wasn’t. 

He had a pack. He had a life. He was going to university in the fall. 

He had Derek.

He had Derek! That was really the most important thing. Since the beginning, ever since this whole thing had started, Derek had been there.

His protector.

His friend.

His boyfriend.

His fucking everything. 

Everything had changed, and yet nothing at all had. Stiles didn’t even know how to voice how he felt about his life as it was now. He loved it, and he hated it. He missed his dad, so much. Every day. But he also knew he never would’ve met Derek. Never would’ve known him like he did now. He hated that his father had died, but the only solace he had was that losing his dad meant gaining Derek. 

And the pack. And the Order. And Satomi’s pack. He had friends, and family—blood was inconsequential, they were family—and he was in a good place. Sure, he still had a lot to atone for, but he had years ahead of him to make up for the people who’d died for him and the things he’d done while with the Argents. He was never going to let himself forget the wrongs he’d committed. He would work at correcting them every day for the rest of his life however he could. 

“Derek!” 

Stiles watched Rose tear across the Hale house and launch herself at the Alpha Werewolf. He bent down to catch her, lifting her up into his arms with an easy smile while she clung to him tightly. 

“No, you can’t go! You just got here!” 

“We’ve been here for five hours,” Stiles insisted with a small laugh, tugging lightly at Rose’s ponytail. She turned to pout at him, still hugging Derek’s neck, and Stiles felt like he might have to watch out because Rose seemed to have a crush on his boyfriend. 

“Derek and Stiles need to leave,” Alex said, moving up to them and smiling at Stiles, rubbing gently at the young girl’s back. “We should all be leaving, it is way past your bedtime.” 

“No,” Rose whined, still clinging to Derek. 

“I know, my love,” Alex said softly, brushing some of Rose’s hair off her forehead, the little girl turning her face away from her mother—her literal mother, since the adoption had gone through, and Stiles was still fucking thrilled every time he thought about it. “But Derek and Stiles are very important people, and they have very important things to do tomorrow.” 

Things Stiles wasn’t looking forward to. 

Namely a meeting with the mayor. Being Emissary meant Stiles was Derek’s voice in all things political. It kind of sucked, because he put his foot in his mouth a lot, but well, this was his life. 

Besides, even if he wasn’t there to talk, he’d have gone with Derek anyway. They were kind of inseparable, Peter insisted he was going to kidnap Stiles one day so they spent twenty-four hours apart. 

“We’ll come visit you and spend the whole day,” Stiles promised. “Saturday, okay?” 

“Promise?” Rose asked pathetically. 

“Promise.” He poked her nose. “You can even hoard Derek all to yourself, I’m getting tired of him anyway.” He winked, and ignored the fake-affronted expression he got in response from his boyfriend. 

Rose managed a small smile, and when Alex pulled her out of Derek’s arms, she actually allowed it. Stiles waved to the room at large, a few people calling back farewells as they headed out the door. 

The air was getting hotter and hotter as they reached the peak of summer and Stiles was honestly a little disappointed about the fact that it was summer. He was looking forward to fall and cold weather coming back in a few months, which was something he never thought he’d say. He used to hate winter, but now, it was probably his favourite time of year. He liked cuddling with Derek, but it got a little uncomfortable in the summer when it was hot and sticky. Winter was the best time for cuddling, when he could leech body heat from the Werewolf while buried under a mound of blankets. 

They climbed into the Mustang to head back to the loft, the drive conducted in comfortable silence. Stiles really liked how comfortable everything was with Derek. How comfortable it had always been. They really were made for each other. 

He hoped his dad knew how good Stiles was doing. He hoped he was happy that Derek ended up being everything he needed. 

Considering his lack of ability to speak, Stiles didn’t know much about Derek and his father’s relationship, but he knew enough to know they’d been close. Maybe not as close as his father and Laura had been, considering she’d been around longer, but he liked to think his dad saw Derek as a second son. Or a really quiet nephew. 

Stiles laughed to himself at the thought, earning him an eyebrow raise, but he just winked and didn’t explain. Some things were best left unsaid. 

When they got back to the loft, Stiles commandeered the bathroom first, because Derek was slow and that was his own fault. He cleaned off quickly, not wanting to dawdle since they had an early morning and it was already quarter-to-midnight, then switched out with Derek once he was done. 

Stiles was already buried under the covers by the time the light downstairs turned off and when Derek climbed into bed beside him, Stiles rolled into him immediately, sighing contentedly when he was wrapped in the man’s arms. Derek squeezed him once tightly, then loosened his hold. It was something he’d been doing for a while, and even though it still hurt—super-strength, Derek!—Stiles allowed it every single night. 

“Night,” he mumbled into Derek’s chest, rubbing his cheek against his skin and getting comfortable. 

Derek grunted his own, “Goodnight” before the two of them settled. It occurred to Stiles he’d forgotten to check he’d set the alarm, but he knew Derek had. He’d seen him do it, so even if both didn’t go off, he knew at least one of them would. He wondered what time it was, and how tired they were going to be, but figured it couldn’t have been any later than twelve-thirty. He hadn’t taken long in the shower, and neither had Derek, so he was sure it wasn’t one yet, which at least meant seven hours, at minimum. 

He could feel Derek’s lips against the crown of his head, the Werewolf’s lips moving against his skin. One large hand was rubbing gently up and down Stiles’ back in a calm, soothing pattern, and it was slowly but surely lulling Stiles to sleep. 

Stiles was pretty sure Derek did that on purpose, because he knew it helped Stiles pass out faster. It was one of those oddly considerate things Derek always did for him, and he loved it. He felt like Derek might be passing out faster for once though, because his hand was moving more slowly as the seconds passed. 

It made sense, it had been a long day with the pack, he was probably exhausted.

Derek and people still didn’t really mix, it was a wonder he'd survived with Stiles for so long. 

“I love you.” 

Stiles smiled, nuzzling further into Derek’s chest. “I love you too, big guy.” 

The hand on his back had stilled, Stiles figuring that Derek had finally fallen asleep. That was good, they were going to be busy tomorrow, and Derek was already exhausted enough withou—

Wait. 

Stiles frowned, wondering if he was already asleep. But he didn’t feel asleep. His eyes were burning slightly, that feeling he got whenever he was overtired and on his way to passing out, but not quite there yet. 

But he’d definitely heard something. Had someone broken in or something?

Or had he passed out and then woken back up a split second later?

Shifting, Stiles pulled away from Derek so he could sit up, glancing briefly around the dark room once before looking down at Derek. The Werewolf was staring back at him, his face slack with shock, and Stiles frowned. 

“Did you hear that?” 

Derek said nothing, as usual. He just kept staring at Stiles. 

“So weird,” Stiles insisted, moving to lie back down. “I swear, for a second I thought—”

“Stiles.” 

He froze, staring at Derek incredulously. Because those were definitely Derek’s lips moving in a way that matched his name. And that was definitely a voice he’d never heard before. And it had definitely come from Derek. 

Stiles sat back up, staring down at Derek, heart beginning to beat faster, and faster, and faster in his chest. 

“Derek?” There was no way.

It was literally impossible. There was no way! Because Kate’s spell was absolute. Satomi had said so herself. Nobody could undo the curse, and the only way for Derek to break it himself was to mean it when he said ‘I love you.’ 

Stiles’ brain screeched to a halt.

Because Satomi’s explanation had never specifically referenced Derek had to say it to Kate. Just that Derek had to say the words and mean them. 

“Stiles,” Derek said again, sitting up and staring at him incredulously. 

“Oh my God!” Stiles blurted out. 

Derek grabbed his face with both hands before he could say anything else, kissing him so hard it actually almost hurt. Stiles pushed at his chest roughly, trying to get him off, then started hitting him until Derek pulled away. 

“Oh my God! Why are you kissing me?! Stop kissing me! Oh my God, you can talk! Keep talking! Say something! Fucking anything!” He shoved roughly at Derek to get free from his death grip, rolling over to grab his phone even while Derek practically rolled on top of him and kissed at any available skin he could reach. 

“Would you stop kissing me! You’ve been kissing me for months, use that mouth for something else!” Stiles shouted, opening a random document on Google and thrusting his phone at Derek. “Read this! Read this entire thing out loud right now!” 

“God, you drive me crazy,” Derek insisted, grabbing the phone and tossing it away before reaching for Stiles’ face again and kissing him. Stiles was pinned too effectively to fight back, but he still tried his best to break free because Derek could talk! He could talk, and instead of talking he was fucking kissing him!

Stiles didn’t want him to kiss him right now! He wanted to hear him talk himself hoarse. He wanted to hear every single fucking word in the English language come out of Derek’s mouth right now! 

“I love you so much,” Derek said between kisses, biting along Stiles’ jaw to his ear and back down to his chin. “Fuck, Stiles, you have no idea how much I love you. How much you mean to me. How badly I needed you to know.” 

“Oh my God,” Stiles insisted again, because he was pretty sure he’d lost the ability to articulate coherent sentences. He just wrapped his arms around Derek while the other kept kissing at any available skin and held him for dear life. He could see his hands glowing behind his closed lids, but he couldn’t pull the magic back.

Because Derek could talk! The curse was broken and Derek could fucking speak! 

“I should’ve said it sooner,” Derek insisted, mouthing open kisses against Stiles’ neck. He idly realized he’d probably have hickeys for their meeting with the mayor—thank you very much, Derek Hale!—but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’ve wanted to, but it hurt not being able to say it aloud. I needed you to know, I’ve wanted you to know. Fuck, Stiles, you’re everything.” 

“Seriously, can you like, recite your favourite book or something?” Stiles asked, feeling breathless and still clutching Derek like he never wanted to let him go. “I swear to God, I need you to never stop talking. I need to hear your voice forever.” 

Derek laughed, and it was so different from the other laughs Stiles had ever heard from him. It was rich, and warm, and so full of happiness, and Stiles could not handle it! 

Art by hrast-ika

He couldn’t handle any of this, because Derek’s voice was everything he’d always imagined it would be, only better. It was so fucking deep, and smooth, and God damn sinful. And the crazy thing was, it didn’t even sound hoarse. It didn’t sound like the voice of someone who hadn’t spoken in years. It sounded exactly the same as Stiles’, like they’d been having a conversation before bed, and had continued it after lying down. 

It was like Derek had still been speaking all those years. Like whenever he moved his lips, words actually did come out, but nobody could hear them. 

“God, can you like, nod your head? Seriously, can you please just nod right now?” 

Derek laughed against his neck, but he obliged, and Stiles seriously thought he was going to fucking break down into uncontrollable sobs when he felt him nod. 

He had no idea what to do with himself right now. He just wanted to lie there holding Derek and continue to demand he speak, but Derek seemed more interested in kissing him and insisting he loved him. Stiles didn’t mind that, exactly, he just really wanted to keep hearing Derek talk. 

He wanted them to have all the conversations they’d ever had all over again. Wanted to know everything about Derek. The good, the bad, the ugly, he didn’t care. He wanted to know what he did that annoyed the shit out of him, wanted to know what his favourite food was, wanted to know his favourite colour, and his friendship with Jackson, and how he felt being Alpha, and what he thought of the new pack, and what his thoughts on climate change were. He didn’t know, he didn’t care, he just needed Derek to keep talking so he could learn everything about him. 

“Up,” Stiles ordered, smacking at Derek. “Up, get up. We are making coffee right now, and you are going to talk until I tell you to stop.” 

Derek laughed against his neck, kissing it once more, and Stiles smacked him again. 

“Would you stop kissing me?! You can kiss me whenever you want! I’ve been waiting literal years to hear your voice! Get up, we’re having an honest to God conversation right now! With actual words and sentences as opposed to eyebrows!” 

Another laugh escaped Derek and while he tightened his hold on Stiles, he did eventually loosen his grip and shift back so that he could climb out of bed. Stiles followed after him, smacking him and telling him to keep talking. 

Derek took his hand in his, kissing the back of it, and then started telling Stiles that they should look into doing something with the bottom half of the building, because as much as he knew Stiles loved his train car, he really wanted it to be something useful and functional. 

By the time they’d reached the kitchen, he’d already moved on to talking about classes he wanted to take, because Derek had had things he wanted to do in life that he hadn’t been able to pursue because of the curse. Stiles was starting university in the fall, and Derek thought maybe he could try and get into a community college so he could join him next year. 

When they reached the sofa with their coffees, Derek had moved into how sorry he was about Stiles’ father, and how bad he felt for how their first few months together had gone, and how badly he’d wished he could explain everything that was going on. 

Hearing Derek move into how frustrating the past few years were hurt Stiles more than anything. He wasn’t a quiet person by nature, and more than once he wanted to jump in, but he forced himself not to. Because Derek had been forced into silence for a long, long time, and now that he had his voice back, Stiles wasn’t going to take even one second away from him using it. 

So he sat there sipping his coffee, watching Derek while he spoke, listening to every word out of his mouth, savouring every single sentence, and tried not to start crying. 

Because after knowing him for three years, after living with him for well over two years, after dating him for more than one, Stiles had finally met Derek Hale. 

And he didn’t want to miss a second of this introduction. 

Stiles cancelled the meeting with the mayor. He and Derek hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, for obvious reasons, and while Stiles knew they could still go and probably fumble their way through a conversation with him, that wouldn’t be a good idea.

The entire purpose of the meeting was to request more funding for the youth centre in town that they were trying to re-purpose into a Supernatural rescue facility. The youth centre hadn’t been used in years, and even though it had been shut down and was slated for demolition, that had never happened. 

There were a lot of people in need of help, and a lot of new Supernaturals in town in need of jobs. It would be good publicity for the town, and it would be for a good cause. Stiles didn’t want to half-ass a conversation like that due to lack of sleep. 

Besides, he really didn’t think it would be right, or fair, for the second person in town to learn about Derek’s voice coming back to be the mayor. His family deserved to know first. 

Peter had been looking for a way to break the spell long before Stiles even knew Derek existed. And Cora had been devastated when she’d found out about what had happened to her brother. If anyone deserved to know about this first, it was them. 

Once they’d both downed some more coffee, they headed upstairs to change, Stiles having to bat impatiently at Derek every few seconds because the Werewolf could literally not control himself! He kept leaning over to kiss him, or hug him, or basically be supremely fucking clingy, and it wasn’t that Stiles minded, because he loved him, but he really needed him to stop using his mouth for anything other than talking. 

“Will you stop kissing me?!” Stiles demanded after tying his shoes, shoving one hand into Derek’s face to push him back. “I mean it. Stop it.” 

Derek was smirking behind Stiles’ hand. He was pretty sure he’d never seen Derek smile so much in his life, not since the day Stiles admitted he was in love with him. He was pretty sure the smile was permanently glued to Derek’s face now.

It wasn’t a bad look for him, honestly. Stiles loved his smile. He was fucking adorable. 

“I can’t talk forever,” Derek informed him, kissing at Stiles’ palm and forcing him to retreat it. 

“You can,” Stiles said authoritatively, pointing a finger at him, “and you will. I demand it.” 

He stood up and led the way down the stairs from the bedroom, Derek letting out a bark of laughter behind him while he followed, catching up to him in the loft and wrapping his arms around him from behind, making it infinitely difficult for Stiles to move purposefully towards the door. 

“Oh, you demand it?” he asked, voice teasing while he bit at Stiles’ closest ear. “Pretty sure I’m the Alpha here.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, trying not to let the continuous affection get to him and following through with opening the loft door, “but I wear the pants in this relationship.”

Derek laughed again while Stiles walked them both out and shut the loft door. Derek refused to release him, which meant Stiles had to shuffle them around so he could lock up, and then head down the stairs with Derek still attached to him.

It was a lot harder than it sounded, his only saving grace was that if he tripped, Derek would most assuredly catch him. 

“Do you now?” Derek asked teasingly, blowing in his ear. 

Stiles managed to suppress a shudder, but it was a near thing. He could feel Derek grinning against his skin, likely because of the spike of arousal that shot straight to Stiles’ groin.

Fucking Werewolves. 

“Yes. I do.” 

Derek’s hands had wandered lower by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, and before Stiles could start working on unlocking all the locks on their exit door, the tips of Derek’s fingers had dipped beneath the hem of his pants. Not far enough to short-circuit his brain, but enough to make him pause. 

“Pretty sure I can take those pants off you,” he said hotly into his ear. 

Christ, apparently having his voice back was making Derek horny as shit. Stiles figured it was more that he was happy he could express himself, but still. Good fucking Lord, he was in trouble. 

“Shut up, keep talking,” he snapped breathlessly, managing to unlock the door and pulling it open. 

“Which is it?” Derek asked, still using that God damn fucking voice. Stiles was pretty sure that wasn’t his normal voice, he’d been hearing that for the past few hours. This was Derek’s bedroom voice and was entirely unfair! “Shut up, or keep talking? You’re sending me mixed signals.” 

“Oh my God,” Stiles groaned, grabbing at the door jamb to keep himself standing when Derek started biting at his ear again. “I hate you. So much.”

“Mm, liar.” 

“Stop trying to distract me!” Stiles insisted, lightly elbowing at him so he could get some breathing room before he popped a boner right there. He was already halfway there, he really didn’t want to show up at the Hale house smelling like arousal. 

Peter didn’t like eau de terror in his coffee, Stiles was sure he would hate eau de sex. 

“Maybe I’m not done talking to you yet,” Derek insisted, though he did finally release him so they could exit the building like normal people and not sex-crazy psychopaths.

Which was hilarious, considering they still hadn’t had sex. But man was Derek sending strong signals on that front. 

Stiles ordered Derek to go to the car while he locked up, the Werewolf obeying but with a pleased smirk on his face. God, smug Derek was the fucking worst. 

He fucking loved it. 

Once they were both in the car, Stiles was a little relieved that Derek was driving, because it meant he had to keep his hands to himself. Thankfully, he seemed to have some pity for Stiles and his poor, sleep-deprived brain, because he stopped using that low, sultry bedroom voice and went back to his normal one—honestly, the shift wasn’t too different, Stiles still found it hot as shit, but that was probably because it was Derek’s voice. 

They went back to talking about their time with Ennis, because the two of them had spent virtually the entire night talking about all the months they’d been together, and Derek being able to finally voice his thoughts and opinions. Evidently he didn’t remember all of them, but he at least had a general idea of what he’d been thinking at any given time. 

Stiles wasn’t looking forward to when they hit Harris, because Derek would be able to yell at him. Honestly, he’d take it. He didn’t care if he got yelled at, Derek could yell, and that was the important thing. 

He also knew that they would have to talk about unpleasant things eventually. What Kate had done to Derek had changed the kind of person he was, and the curse had made it impossible for him to talk about it and find some closure. Stiles really needed him to open up about what had happened, even if it wasn’t with him. 

And Stiles needed to make sure he knew Derek’s boundaries, because he sure as shit didn’t want to accidentally trample all over them. 

When they reached the Hale house, Derek looked a little unsure as he parked the car. It was like he thought things had changed too much and that him having his voice back would only change things again in a way where they could never be the same again. Stiles understood his hesitance, but at the same time, Derek had really never been good at seeing how much people cared about him. 

It was probably another residual of Kate that Stiles was sure everyone was quickly going to erase. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” Derek said quietly, his voice low, like he didn’t want anyone inside to hear him. Stiles was sure they weren’t listening anyway, it was still early, they were probably annoyed at being woken up by the car arriving. 

“Take your time,” Stiles insisted with a small smile. “You don’t have to say anything right away. I can ask you a question if you’d rather do that.” 

Derek smiled slightly, turning to nod at him, and Stiles was so fucking thrilled at seeing his head bob like that, because fuck, he’d never seen it before. 

“Sure. Thanks.” 

Stiles was the one to lean over and kiss him this time, but when Derek brought one hand up to keep him there, he retreated quickly. He wasn’t going to let Derek procrastinate this longer than he had to, and he really didn’t want to keep kissing when he’d rather hear his voice. 

When they reached the door, climbing the porch steps slowly due to their fatigue, Peter had already opened it and was eying them both critically. 

“I think everyone knows he belongs to you, nephew, no need to advertise it every time you leave the house.” 

“I’ve tried to make him stop, it doesn’t work.” Stiles hadn’t really taken a look at himself this morning, but he was kind of used to the smattering of hickeys that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his neck. 

“Mm,” Peter said, unimpressed. He gave them both another brief once-over, like he could tell they hadn’t slept. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, feel like it, too.” Stiles walked past him, patting him on the shoulder. Derek followed without a word.

Peter didn’t notice a difference, which made sense, since Derek hadn’t spoken a word in years. He just shut the door behind them and followed them to the kitchen where Cora was standing grumpily at the stove making eggs. 

“What happened with your meeting?” Peter asked. 

“We had to cancel. Something came up. His secretary sounded kind of relieved, actually. I think the mayor’s office is scared of us.” 

“With that haircut, I’d be terrified of you, too,” Peter informed Stiles.

He let out an affronted sound, then flipped Peter off while the man headed for the stove to take over for Cora. She’d already dumped some scrambled eggs onto two plates, and Peter got to work cracking some more into the pan. They might not have been prepared for visitors, but this was a house of Werewolves. They were always prepared to overfeed, regardless of whether or not people dropped in.

“Jackson not home?” Stiles asked while he leaned forward on the counter. Derek took a seat at the kitchen table behind him, still not saying a word. 

“He spent the night with Ethan,” Cora said, smothering one plate of eggs with ketchup. “Aiden’s been bugging us to give the two of them their own house so he doesn’t have to listen to them be gross together. Peter’s already veto’d Ethan spending the night here, so they’re probably going to jump on the chance to move in together, or whatever.” 

“I have heard enough of my children have sex in this house, I’m not keen to add another,” Peter argued from the stove, turning to give Cora a pointed look. 

She just shrugged and Stiles smirked, both because he knew that included Derek, and because Peter had called Cora, Derek and Jackson his children. 

Cora picked up the two plates and turned to them. “Eggs? I think we have some frozen waffles left if you’d rather that.” 

“I’m good with eggs,” Stiles said with a shrug, then turned to Derek, smiling a little as he asked, “You okay with eggs?” 

“Sure.” 

Stiles heard the plates break before he’d fully turned back to Cora. Her hands were empty, broken porcelain, eggs and ketchup scattered across the floor of the kitchen. She was staring at Derek with her eyes so wide Stiles worried they might fall right out of her face.

Peter had paused at the stove, also turned to look at his nephew, and Stiles could see the eggs beginning to smoke a little bit. 

It made sense they’d recognize the voice. Stiles had never heard Derek speak before, he literally had no idea what he sounded like, so his confusion had made sense. For Peter and Cora, this was their family. This was someone they knew extremely well. So the one word was more than enough for both of them. 

When Stiles turned back to Derek, he shifted a little uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to take that reaction. Stiles wanted to smack him, because it was clear this was a good reaction. 

“Derek?” Cora asked, and Stiles saw her lower lip trembling. Saw her eyes water. Could see how close she was to breaking. “Can you...?” 

Derek managed a small smile. “Hey Cora.” 

Stiles ducked in time to avoid getting bowled over, because Cora leapt clear over the counter, landed on the table, and literally tackled Derek right out of his chair. They were on the ground in half a second, Cora sobbing into his shirt while hugging him. Derek hugged her back, though Stiles did notice him wince, like the fall had hurt. Made sense, nobody wanted to get tackled out of their chair, that sounded unpleasant.

He didn’t blame Cora though, not one bit. 

Peter seemed to have snapped out of his shock, because he came around the counter then while Cora was still hugging Derek and crying, and insisting she’d never been so happy to hear his dumb, stupid voice in her life. Stiles was still crouched on the other side of the counter, but he smiled at how happy he could tell the siblings were. 

Derek wasn’t crying, but his eyes were definitely a little wet. Stiles honestly wondered if he was one of those, “I had something in my eye” kind of people, or if he’d admit this entire thing was kind of overwhelming. 

It didn’t look like Cora was willing to let him go any time soon, but Peter managed to convince her to get up so the two of them weren’t just lying on the ground like morons. He helped Derek to his feet, then pulled him into a brief hug, one hand at the back of his nephew’s neck, the other around his shoulders and giving him a hard pat on the back. 

“Good to have you back, Derek.” 

“Thanks Peter.” Derek was smiling so wide Stiles was honestly worried he’d forget how to scowl.

Not that he wanted him to scowl, he liked his smile. He was just also kind of adorable when he scowled. 

“How?” Cora demanded, grabbing his face and giving it a firm shake. “Derek, how?” 

“How else?” His smile was softer now, and his gaze shifted to Stiles, who was still sitting on the floor on the other side of the island. 

Peter and Cora turned to look at him, and he held up both hands in surrender. 

“I did nothing. I was literally lying in bed falling asleep when he spoke.” 

“It’s because of you, and you know it is,” Derek argued, still smiling softly. “Kate cursed me to say the words ‘I love you’ and mean them. There isn’t anyone else in the world I could’ve meant those words more with.” 

Stiles felt heat sliding up his throat, embarrassment threatening to swallow him whole. He almost wanted to joke that he liked Derek better before he could talk, but the words wouldn’t come, because even as a joke, they weren’t true. He didn’t care how embarrassed he got by the sappy shit coming out of Derek’s mouth, he wanted to hear every fucking word, because he could talk. 

Fuck, Derek could talk. Stiles was never going to get over that. 

“Cora, get dressed, we’re going to the store,” Peter informed her while stalking back around the counter. Stiles finally stood up, eyes shifting back and forth between the two Hale siblings and their uncle.  

“What?” she asked, wiping at the tears on her face, even as more spilled over her lashes and across her cheeks. “Why?” 

“We need food,” Peter said, moving to the stove quickly. Stiles noticed he hadn’t moved the eggs off the burner, which seemed irresponsible of him, but just reinforced how shocked and thrilled Peter was. He turned the stove off, leaving the half-burned eggs in the pan on another burner, then moved purposefully to the fridge and pulled it open, as if inspecting what they had. “We are having a pack day, it’s mandatory. No school, no work, nothing. Our pack is coming over immediately and we are going to listen to Derek talk the entire day.” 

“I just got my voice back, you want me to lose it already?” Derek asked with a small laugh.

Peter’s smile was small but fierce while he kept doing inventory of what they had in the fridge. “We’ll let you stop talking when we’ve heard enough.” 

“Maybe we should make it the original pack?” Stiles asked cautiously. “I mean, I know this is huge, but I feel like we should only invite the old pack for something like this.” Honestly, even Jackson was too close to the ‘new’ pack to warrant an invite, but he was an exception. He’d known Derek for over a year, and they’d gotten extremely close while Stiles had been with the Argents, so it wouldn’t be fair to him to keep him back. 

Stiles felt guilty wanting to exclude newer people, like Alex and Rose, but there were so many people who’d grown up with Derek who’d been waiting for this day for literal years, and it didn’t seem right to take that away from them. 

“Stiles, you start making phone calls. Anyone who says they can’t make it, you tell them this isn’t optional and that they come, or I will hunt them down. Get Parrish to bring beer, lots of it. Cora and I will handle the groceries. You,” Peter said, straightening and closing the fridge door before pointing at Derek, “you keep talking like your life depends on it.” 

“You’re almost as bad as Stiles,” Derek said with a laugh, but it was obvious he was just as happy as the others were. He was acting like having his voice back wasn’t a big deal, but they all knew it was. To them and to him. 

Derek just seemed like he didn’t know how to express how happy he was, so he was making jokes at his own expense. 

“Stiles, I don’t see you calling people.” 

“Right.” He hastily pulled his phone out. “I’ll get on that.”

“Cora, clothes. Now.” 

She kissed her brother’s cheek, a loud and wet kiss. He let out a disgusted sounding, “Cora!” and the sob-laugh that escaped her followed by the endearing smile on Derek’s face suggested that this was something they’d often done as children, and Cora was ecstatic that she could hear him say that again. 

It warmed his heart to see them all, from Cora’s happy tears, to Peter’s more reserved but fiercely thrilled smile, to Derek’s overjoyed expression. 

He couldn’t wait for the rest of the pack to find out. For the rest of Derek’s family to find out. 

This was going to be the longest day ever, but Stiles knew every single second would be worth it. 

“I wanted to kill him,” Derek said with a laugh, one arm resting across the back of Stiles’ seat and shaking his head while he spoke. “I honestly wanted to kill him. All that time keeping him out of sight, and the second we get back he goes to open the door.” 

“I did not open the door,” Stiles argued, rolling his eyes and slouching in his seat. “I specifically didn’t open the door. And besides, it was only Parrish.” 

“You didn’t know Parrish at the time,” Derek argued, leaning over to kiss his temple. Stiles could feel the smile on his lips when he kissed him. “I thought you were going to be the death of me with the number of heart attacks you gave me.” 

“And now your heart does different things whenever he’s around,” Erica teased with a grin. 

“Ugh, unfortunately,” Cora muttered. “They’re so gross. And you should hear the schmoopy things Derek says to him now, it’s fucking embarrassing!” 

“Like what?” Erica asked with a cocked eyebrow, even as Derek started speaking over her to oblige, if only to make Cora suffer. 

“You are the light of my life.” Derek kissed Stiles’ temple. Then his cheek. “My everything. My world. I love everything about you.” 

Cora made loud exclamations of disgust and sank further down in her chair. Stiles actually wondered if she might slide right off it. 

“What happened to you?” Isaac demanded, appalled. “You were never like this before. Not even with Paige. And you were disgusting with her.” 

“Stiles happened,” Cora whined. “It’s his fault. Let’s kill him.” 

Kira laughed, pressing into Stiles’ other side and resting her head on his shoulder, overhappy with good cheer now that she had her best friend back in one piece. “I don’t think it’s so much Stiles as it is Derek couldn’t ever say anything to him before. He’s trying to make up for all the lost time he had with his inability to tell him he loved him.” 

“He told me he loved me all the time,” Stiles argued, nudging her lightly. “Just not with his words.” 

“Ugh, gag.” Cora slid even further. Stiles really was worried she’d fall off her chair. “You two are so gross.” 

“You love it,” Lydia teased.

Cora muttered under her breath, but Stiles grinned at the fact that she didn’t deny it. She was probably just getting tired of seeing them all over each other. It was her brother, after all. 

Stiles’ phone vibrated in his pocket, and he started to ignore it, thinking it was a text message, but the buzzing persisted. When he realized it was a phonecall, he pulled away from Kira and Derek, who both gave him quizzical looks. He got his phone out, and smiled when he saw the name on the screen. 

Showing it to Derek while getting to his feet, his boyfriend smiled and nodded once before turning back to the rest of the pack. Stiles answered while he moved quickly through the house to the stairs, wanting to head up to Derek’s room for some privacy. Not that this was necessarily a private conversation, but he needed a second to breathe anyway.

It had been an emotional day, and it was far from being over, considering what day it was. 

“Hi Satomi. I’m guessing you got my text.”

“I did,” she said, her voice much more chipper than usual. He could only suspect she was as thrilled as everyone else to learn Derek’s voice was back. That his curse was finally broken. “I was so very happy to read it. Actually, Derek also texted me, likely just to prove to himself that he could. I decided to leave him be for the evening, I’m sure his pack has been eager for this day and I didn’t want to impose.”

“Yeah, it’s been pretty great,” Stiles admitted with a laugh, shutting Derek’s bedroom door and moving to sit on his bed. “I’m sure Derek’s tired of talking by now, but none of us want him to stop. He’s basically retelling the past three years in detail to everyone, so we’re in for a long night.” 

Satomi laughed. “Poor thing. Just make sure he doesn’t lose his voice because you all made him speak too much.”

“Never,” Stiles insisted. He knew Derek wasn’t going to overdo it, not on his first day, but it was hard letting him stop. Everyone wanted to hear everything he had to say, because they hadn’t had the opportunity to for so long.

Or ever before, in his case. 

He knew tonight was just going to be fun and laughter, which was amazing, but eventually they’d have to talk about his trauma. Stiles didn’t want Derek to live his life not speaking about the things he’d been through, and while he wasn’t planning on making him talk about it immediately, he definitely wasn’t going to let him go another whole year with the emotions and trauma buried deep. 

And with his voice back, there was so much Derek could do now. So many dreams he’d had that he could actually pursue. Like going back to school, and getting a job he actually wanted. They could actually text for real now, and Stiles wouldn’t have a heart attack every time Derek’s name flashed on his screen because Derek could speak now. 

It was still so surreal. Three years he’d known him, and it was literally just because Derek had chosen to move his lips against Stiles’ skin, thinking the words, “I love you” and had meant them that the curse had been broken. 

At that thought, Stiles paused. His mind went back to a conversation he’d had with Satomi a long time ago. Right before he and Derek had left Wyoming with Boyd and Isaac, he’d gone to see her to ask for her help in breaking Derek’s curse. She’d told him that he couldn’t break it with his magic, but that she didn’t doubt he would break it.

Just not how he thought he would. 

“Did you know?” he asked, wondering if she’d had the answer all this time. He didn’t begrudge her if she did, because she couldn’t force Derek to say something he didn’t mean any more than Kate’s curse could force him to speak the words to her. But still... “How to break it, I mean. You told me once you knew I’d break it, but not how I thought I would. Did you know?” 

Satomi let out a soft laugh, then sighed happily. It was clear she was thrilled everything had worked out for the better. 

“As ridiculous as the movies and fairytales are, they’re actually quite right about love being the strongest magic of all.” That... was not what Stiles expected to hear. “Derek was cursed, and conveniently, his curse even involved love.” When she paused here, Stiles knew she was smiling. “I knew he loved you. I knew you loved him. Even back then. Even before either of you realized it. I knew that once the feelings manifested, once you were both conscious of them, and once you both finally accepted each other, that the spell would break. I knew eventually, love would truly conquer all. And it did.”

Stiles sighed, burying one hand in his hair and bowing his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I want to say that’s sappy, but I can’t, because that’s totally what happened, and it totally worked.” 

“It did indeed,” Satomi said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “And I’m so very glad it did. I am very happy to hear he finally has his voice back. I can’t wait to hear it.”

Stiles smiled. “I can’t wait for you to hear it, too. I gotta say, it’s pretty amazing.” 

“I’ll look forward to officially meeting Alpha Hale.”

Stiles grinned. 

The air was hot and muggy and not at all pleasant, even with the sun having long since set. It felt like he could taste the heat, and while a part of him wanted to be annoyed about it, he knew that was just what summer was like. Things would cool down eventually, for now, he just had to tolerate it.

As predicted, it had been a long day. Before the calm and joyful sit-down they’d spent the day doing, there was, of course, the reveal. 

Every new member of the pack who’d arrived at the Hale house had reacted similarly to either Stiles, Cora or Peter. Surprisingly, Boyd was one of the people who’d reacted like Cora. He’d hugged Derek so hard he’d practically lifted him off the ground, and Stiles had never seen the guy so emotional before. 

Kira had started screaming, jumping up and down while hugging the person closest to her, and had proceeded to spend a better part of the morning thrusting random things at Derek and demanding he read them out to her. One of those things had literally been a cereal box, and she’d ordered Derek to read all the ingredients, because she never wanted him to stop talking.

Honestly, Stiles could relate. 

He got overwhelmingly happy with every new pack member that showed up, because they all reacted with so much joy that it made his chest warm and reminded him of how lucky he was to be part of such an amazing family. 

Jackson had been surprised, but happy in his own way. He hadn’t freaked out like some of the others, but had seemed to be a little more like how Peter had reacted. 

His literal first words to Derek upon finding out he could speak were, “I kind of liked being friends with someone who couldn’t talk back. Guess I’ll have to settle for arguing with Stilinski.” 

Stiles knew Jackson was just as happy, even if he’d never admit it. Jackson was just Jackson, it would kill him to admit anything other than smugness. 

After spending close to thirteen hours in the Hale house, Stiles was starting to feel the exhaustion overwhelm him. His brief break with Satomi had been welcome, but it hadn’t been a very long one. And before long, he wanted to leave, not because he wanted to end the festivities, but because it had been an extremely emotional day. 

Not to mention today was the day. He knew Derek didn’t remember. Hell, Stiles had barely remembered, given everything that had happened. 

But today was the day. 

“Hey dad,” he said to the grave marker in front of him. “Sorry I haven’t come by in a while. Been a weird couple of months.” 

He crouched slightly so he was eye level with his father’s name, reaching out to lightly brush his fingers over the smooth engraving in the stone. He let his index trace every letter, reading the words to himself quietly. 

“Noah John Stilinski,” he said softly. “Loving husband. Caring father. Loved his son with all his heart.” 

He felt his eyes begin to water, but forced the tears back. He’d cried enough today, and didn’t want to start again. It was just a really weird day. 

Third year anniversary of the day his father died. Third year anniversary of meeting Derek. And first day ever that he’d heard his voice. It was strange to realize that, of all the days Derek could’ve gotten his voice back, it was today. The best and worst day of his life.

Fitting, he supposed. That Derek would get it back today of all days. 

“Huh,” his companion said, moving up beside him. “Claudia and Noah. How is it you ended up with that atrocity of a name you’ve got? What is it again? Mxyzptlk?” 

Stiles snorted at the DC reference, never having heard that one before. “Mieczyslaw.” 

Jackson shrugged expansively in his periphery. “Same difference.” 

“Dad didn’t go by his given name, either.” Stiles’ fingers went back to his father’s middle name. “He always went by John.” 

“Some of us actually use our real names so we don’t confuse the fuck out of people.” 

“Whatever you say, Derek.” 

Stiles smiled when Jackson cuffed him across the back of the head, then said he was going to check out the Hale monument. Stiles listened to him walk away down the row towards where Derek’s family was. Or his family, since he was also a Hale now.

Jackson, like him, had started to feel a little out of place. When Stiles had made for the door, he’d followed along. Stiles didn’t need a chaperone anymore, people would be stupid to come at him given how powerful he’d become, but he supposed it was habit for the others to keep an eye on him. It also gave Jackson an excuse to duck out. 

Stiles was sure this wasn’t what Jackson had in mind when he’d followed Stiles out of the house and offered him a ride, but to his credit, he didn’t bitch about it. Stiles didn’t know if Jackson knew where his parents were buried. He hadn’t really spoken about any of his visits with Meredith, but maybe they hadn’t even gotten that far yet. He hadn’t even known his parents were dead until recently, so the idea of visiting graves was probably a weird concept for him.

Jackson didn’t seem unhappy about being there with him, and he seemed to be doing exceptionally well. Considering the way his life had gone, he actually seemed pretty happy. Functional, even, which was surprising. Stiles was really glad they’d met, he felt like he owed Jackson a lot. 

But this visit wasn’t about Jackson. It was about him and his dad. 

“Derek got his voice back today,” he said quietly. He knew Jackson could hear him, but was hoping he would be polite enough not to listen. Jackson wasn’t exactly polite, but there were some lines even he wouldn’t cross. “It startled me so much I actually thought someone broke in. Or that I was hallucinating.” He smiled slightly. “I don’t even know if you heard him speak. If he was around when I was little, I’m assuming you knew him before the curse. He sounds good, dad. Really good. And he looks happy.” 

That, honestly, was the most important thing for Stiles. It was that Derek looked happy. About everything. He smiled more, he laughed more, he made it clear things were going well in his life. And he was already making plans for his future now that his voice was back.

Shit, he was already talking about community college in the fall. His voice had only been back for a few hours and his first thought was school. Stiles wondered what he’d hoped to study before the curse. He wondered if his thoughts on what they’d spoken about when Stiles was looking at university courses had changed. 

He wondered if they would change. He really hoped not. He didn’t feel like Derek being able to speak would change their relationship any. It just meant Derek could yell at him when he was mad now instead of stomping through the loft angrily. 

It also meant Derek could hang out with other people. Stiles was really glad about that, because he’d often worried Derek felt isolated. Sure, they were both fine spending every waking moment together, but Stiles knew that the others in the pack were old childhood friends. He really hoped that now that his voice was back, Derek would feel like he could go out with them again. 

He wanted Derek to go out with them. To spend time with his old friends, to make new ones, to be himself. Deaton had once said Derek didn’t talk much growing up, but that didn’t mean he never had anything to say. Derek had spoken to Stiles a fuckton, in his own way, while he was cursed. Now that he had his voice back, Stiles really hoped he used it. 

“Thought I might find you here.” 

Speaking of using his voice, Stiles thought with a small smile, standing from his crouched position and slapping his hands together before turning. 

Derek was picking his way through the rows of graves, hands in his pockets and eyes on the tombstone that boasted his father’s name. He stopped beside Stiles, wrapping one arm around him and pulling him into his side, kissing his temple. 

“Happy anniversary,” Stiles said with a small scoff. “Sorry I don’t have a cupcake or a pie for you this year.” 

“I know this day is confusing for you,” Derek said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” 

“I wanted you to spend time with the others,” he admitted. “This is a big deal for all of you. I didn’t want to ruin it.” 

“This,” Derek said, nodding towards the grave, “is a big deal for you. I wasn’t going to let the night end without coming here with you. I just didn’t want to push.” 

Stiles just leaned more heavily into Derek, letting out a slow breath. “I had company, don’t worry.” 

“I noticed. Peter’s getting tired of his car being commandeered. Jackson needs to buy his own.” 

“He will. Eventually. When Peter stops letting him commandeer his car.” 

Derek let out a soft laugh, kissing his temple again before they fell silent. They both stared at the two Stilinski graves, Stiles still unable to believe Derek had managed to get him his father despite not being able to speak at the time. 

It was going to be a bit of an adjustment having Derek call out to him. Stiles would probably explode a few lights in fright. Fuck, the first time he called him, or texted him, Stiles was probably going to have a heart attack. In a good way, but still. 

Jackson wandered back over a few minutes later, standing on Derek’s other side with his hands in his pockets, the three of them staring at the graves in front of them. 

“Our family is weird,” Jackson insisted to Derek. “Can’t believe they all thought that thing was worth protecting.” He motioned Stiles. “Can’t believe I’m stuck protecting it, too.” 

“Thanks Jackson,” he said dryly. 

Derek just pulled him tighter into his side, because they both knew Jackson wasn’t good with feelings and was just trying to make himself feel less uncomfortable by being rude. 

“Well, if you two losers can find your own way home, I’m heading to Ethan’s. I’m sure Peter’s going to have the party going until the weekend and I don’t have the patience for that.” He turned to head back for the road, raising one hand in farewell. “Make good choices, or whatever,” he said in parting. 

“Why are we friends with him?” Stiles asked Derek.

“No idea, you’re the one who brought him home.” 

“Right. My fault.” 

Derek smiled over at him, bumped his hip lightly, and then fell silent again. They stood there for an additional ten minutes before Stiles decided to call it a night. It had been over thirty-six hours since either of them had slept, and while Stiles knew from experience that Derek could do that with enough coffee and energy drinks, Stiles really liked sleep. 

He asked if Derek wanted to stop by the Hale monument, but when he shook his head—Jesus Christ, he could shake his head, it was fucking amazing—they just headed back for the Mustang. Derek had parked it illegally on the side of the road, but no one seemed to have noticed it at this hour so they climbed in and headed back to the loft. 

Stiles idly wondered how long it would take for people to notice they’d left. He hadn’t said goodbye to anyone, and he was sure Derek hadn’t, either. Peter had likely noticed them both leave, because he was freakishly observant that way, but Stiles doubted he’d be mad about them bailing without a word. 

When they got back to the loft, Stiles really wanted to shower before bed but he knew he didn’t have the energy so he just headed upstairs to change, Derek following suit. They moved slowly while changing out, both of them tired from a long day of emotions on literally no sleep. 

They got under the covers at the same time, and Stiles shifted closer to Derek so he could curl into him. He was already feeling a bit too warm being curled up against a veritable walking heater, but this was the most comfortable place for him to be so he would suck it up and relish every second of it. 

He was more than ready to pass out for sleep, but Derek nudged at him. Stiles whined, but allowed himself to be manhandled onto his back, and grunted when the Werewolf rolled on top of him, bracing his arms on either side of Stiles’ head. 

Stiles opened his previously closed eyes to watch the man hover over him, Derek’s eyes dark, but the slightest ring of red around his irises. 

“Can I ask you something?” Derek asked.

“You can ask me anything you want,” Stiles insisted. Because he would never get over being able to hear his voice like this. 

Derek seemed to hesitate, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but it was clear it was something that had been bothering him for a long time. 

“Why me?” 

Stiles frowned. “What?” 

“You’re the Spark. You change the lives of everyone you come into contact with. You could’ve had anyone you wanted, including multiple people in Satomi’s pack.” 

Stiles had only known about Heather, but he supposed others had been smart enough to see how things had gone between her and Stiles and had decided to cut their losses. 

“I was an angry, cursed, overprotective Werewolf. I wasn’t even that nice to you at the beginning, because I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.” 

Stiles almost laughed at the swear word, but managed to hold it together. It wouldn’t be appropriate the laugh right now, not when Derek was basically baring his soul. 

“But every time I pushed, you pushed back. We had our bumps along the way, it took some time, but I never understood how you could look at me, someone who couldn’t speak, couldn’t even nod, and just... knew me. I never understood how you decided, out of everyone, that I was what you wanted when I couldn’t even express myself. So why me?” 

It was hard not to tell Derek that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard, but he somehow managed it. 

Why him? Why him? Was he serious? He thought Stiles didn’t know him? Sure, there were some things he didn’t know, but to be fair, there were a lot of things about Stiles that Derek didn’t know, either. They were still getting to know each other every day, and that was something they would continue to do regardless of whether or not Derek had his voice back. 

“Why you?” Stiles repeated, letting out a small laugh. “Because,” he insisted, smiling mischievously and wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck to tug him down. Derek allowed it, resting more of his weight on top of Stiles. “Haven’t you heard? Actions speak louder than words. And you, Mr. Hale, are a man of action.” 

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, pressing his forehead against Stiles’ briefly before shifting so he could kiss it instead. “You’re such a loser, Stiles.” 

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

Easiest order he’d ever received. 

Stiles was only too happy to oblige. 

After all, Stiles had been waiting what felt like his entire life to hear Derek’s voice. He was going to obey everything that ever came out of his mouth for the rest of his existence. 

Except if it had to do with cookies. Derek could not order him out of eating cookies. 

Anything else though? That was fair game.

Stiles couldn’t wait to wake up to this all over again tomorrow. And the next day.

And the next day.

For the rest of his life. 

END.