Archive of Our Own

Before, when Stiles had imagined the summer after his Sophomore year, it had been an awesome two months full of late nights gaming at Scott's, the endless freedom of being able to drive himself anywhere he wanted, and — he'd been optimistic — plenty of time spent on dates with Lydia. Oh, how wrong he'd been.

They were only two weeks into the summer, but he'd already spent the majority of it sat in front of his laptop. Not watching TV shows and porn like he'd expected back in Freshman year, but reading Wikipedia pages and random articles about all sorts of obscure mythology and werewolf lore, and organising the translated-from-Latin notes that Lydia sent him, filing them in some sort of useful order.

The rest of the pack were busy training under Derek's rigorous instruction and Peter's mocking commentary. They seemed to be busy every day, and even pack meetings — which were supposedly for them to talk and strategise and listen to Stiles' research — were turning into late night training sessions. Stiles was sick of it, to be honest. There were only so many times he could stand in the woods and watch his friends running at super speed and wrestling each other before he got bored. Even Derek's near-constant shirtless state wasn't motivation enough to stay.

On top of that, he had his sessions with Deaton, in which the vet was cryptic and unhelpful and Stiles tried to pay attention long enough to make some sort of sense of the man's words. Despite having been at it for two weeks, not to mention his meetings with the man during term time, Stiles still had no idea what it meant to be 'The Spark'. Maybe one day it would click for him, but until then he was stuck googling and staring at piles of mountain ash in the hopes of making something cool happen. He'd stopped turning up to pack meetings, not really feeling up to being ignored and talked over for however long they were together. No one had text him to complain, so Stiles assumed it was fine, and resolutely ignored the gnawing in his gut and the voice in his head that told him the pack clearly didn't need him, if they didn't care enough to ask why he wasn't there. He would keep researching, keep hunting for anything that might help them defeat the Alpha Pack. Just once, Stiles would save the day. Maybe then he'd stop feeling so useless all the time.

Running a hand through his longer-than-usual hair, Stiles bit his lip and reached for the can of Red Bull on his desk, gulping down the last of it. When he tossed the can at the trash, it clattered against the other three empty cans in there, and the noise made him flinch involuntarily. It was nearly 2am, and his dad was fast asleep, but he was so wired he couldn't help but be jumpy. The words on his screen were starting to blur together a little, and he stared harder and tried to focus, glancing down at his notepad only to groan when he realised he'd been doodling wolf faces instead of taking notes. Maybe he should play some XBox for a little while, or something, just to distract himself.

"What are you still doing up?" Stiles nearly fell from his chair at the voice, whipping around and glaring at the leather-clad werewolf perched in his window.

"Oh my God, Derek, what the hell?" he hissed, wide-eyed. Derek stepped nonchalantly into the room, closing the window behind himself. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"I didn't want to wake you if you were sleeping," the Alpha replied, hands in his pockets.

"What, so you were just gonna creep into my room and watch me sleep instead? That's so reassuring," Stiles sniped, rolling his eyes. He'd had a lot of dreams that started this way, but they usually turned pretty quickly into Derek pinning him to a flat surface and kissing him breathless. Since the wolf was still on the other side of the room, Stiles assumed it wasn't a dream. "What are you doing here, anyway? Is everyone okay?" Alarm flooded through him at the thought of Scott or any of the others being in trouble. Had the Alphas attacked? Surely one of them would have called, or text?

"Everyone's fine," Derek assured, a frown tugging at his lips. "You haven't been at the last three pack meetings. Scott says he's not seen you all week. I figured I should just check you were alive." Stiles wanted to laugh at the fact that he could be MIA for a whole week before someone from the pack would go looking for him. He could really feel the love. Still, he shrugged, raising an eyebrow at Derek.

"Yeah, well, here I am, not dead. You can go now." Derek folded his arms over his chest, giving Stiles a look.

"What are you reading?" Stiles glanced back at his laptop screen, unaware of what dingy corner of the internet he'd stumbled into in his sleep-deprived state.

"Uh…" Derek snorted, shaking his head.

"You should be asleep, Stiles," he murmured, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Red Bull and double dose of Adderall says that's not happening any time soon. No sleep for Stiles, nope, gotta read." He jumped as Derek strode across the room, one hand clamping down on his shoulder.

"Go to sleep, Stiles. You look exhausted, you're unfocused, you're no use to the pack like this," the man said softly, sounding almost concerned. Maybe Stiles was hallucinating after all.

"I'm no use to the pack in the first place— ow, hey, watch it with the super strength!" he yelped quietly as the hand tightened around him, pulling him up from his chair. He and Derek were about as face-to-face as they could be with the height difference, and Stiles was sure both of them could hear his heart pounding against his ribs. Hopefully Derek couldn't smell the arousal pooling in his gut.

"Stop it," Derek growled, eyes flashing red. Stiles wasn't cowed, and merely rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please, I'm just saying what we all know. I'm the weak link in this chain, Derek. I'm not a wolf, I don't have badass archery skills or a crazy chemistry brain like Lydia. I have nothing to bring to this except the ability to get beaten up and kidnapped and generally drag you down. You don't need me around, especially not while the Alpha Pack are here!" They both knew he was an easy target for them; he wasn't so stupid as to not notice the way everyone else had stepped up their guard around him when they'd first found out about the Alphas.

"You're the Spark, Stiles, of course we need you around." Stiles almost paused in his argument to bask in the words 'we need you around' coming from Derek Hale's lips himself, but it was 2am and he hadn't slept in three days and he was sick of taking whatever scraps of kindness were thrown his way.

"No, you don't, because that doesn't mean anything when I can't fucking get it to work!" he argued, voice coming out somewhat hysterical. "Deaton keeps trying and trying but I'm getting nowhere, Derek, and I'm researching and translating but there's nothing in any of it about how to fend off an Alpha Pack, and my dad is still worried about me after Gerard and I can't tell him anything and all I do is lie. I'm a shitty son and a shitty Spark and a shitty pack member, and I just can't anymore." He took a deep breath, eyes going wide at how much he'd blurted out. "Wow. Okay. Pretend that didn't happen." Freezing as Derek's hand slid to the back of his neck, Stiles could do nothing but stare back at the man's intense gaze.

"I'm sorry you can't tell your dad," he started, and it did sound like he meant it. "But, God, Stiles, you seem to think this pack is working so smoothly without you. I've had to call a meeting early the past two times because Scott and Jackson couldn't get along and you weren't there to calm them down. You might be a shitty Spark right now, but I'm a shitty Alpha, and they're all shitty Betas, and Peter's just a shitty person all round. We'll all get better. Pack takes time, which is the one thing we don't have right now, so we do not need to be wasting time having pack meetings without the whole pack there." Derek's piercing gaze was equal parts terrifying and hot, and all Stiles' brain could focus on was how close they were standing. Do not kiss Derek. Do not kiss Derek.

"You're not a shitty Alpha," he retorted automatically, voice earnest. "You're doing your best with what you've got. Not your fault your pack kinda sucks." Derek snorted, lips twitching in what might actually be considered a smile. Score one for Stiles.

"Yeah, well, so are you," he pointed out. "So stop expecting to be perfect straight off, and stop trying to shoulder this all on your own. For a pack to have a Spark… it's rare. Most packs would kill for someone like you." The look on his face said that people had killed for someone like him, and wasn't that a comforting thought. "Everything is a mess right now, but we need to stick together to get back on track. That includes you. If anything, the Spark is the most important person in a wolf pack."

"Really?" Stiles asked skeptically, one eyebrow raised. Derek smirked.

"Yeah, you're basically Harry Potter." Jaw dropping, Stiles scoffed, giving the werewolf an impressed look.

"Did you just make a pop culture reference?" Derek's expression tightened, and his gaze dimmed.

"I had a little cousin, before," he admitted shortly. Stiles felt guilt curl in his stomach; there was only one 'before' in Derek's life. "He used to make me read it to him all the time."

"Oh. Damn, Derek, I…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say. Nothing he could say could make it any better. "I'll come to pack meetings. I'm sorry, I just… Useless human in a group of wolves and badasses. Little hard to look past, y'know?"

"You're not completely incapable," Derek told him, smirking faintly. That was the closest thing to a compliment Derek had ever given him, and it made him preen just a little bit. "So get some sleep, and stop taking so much Adderall. It makes you smell like chemicals." He screwed up his nose as if to make a point, and Stiles grinned.

"Does it matter how I smell?" he teased, feeling strangely daring. It was 2am, and he was alone in his room with a hot older guy. Sue him for being brave.

"Yes." Derek's growl was low and emphatic, and it sent tingles across Stiles' skin. He stepped back, leaving the teen feeling oddly bereft, and turned towards the window. "If you skip the next pack meeting, I'll send Jackson over to drag you to it."

"Yes, sir," Stiles replied dryly, giving a mocking salute. Derek glared at him, though his heart wasn't in it, and within a blink he was gone, the window left open in his wake. It took several moments for Stiles to move from his position in order to close it, letting out a long sigh as he pulled his curtains shut. Why was it that conversations with Derek always left him feeling strung-out, on edge, and desperately horny? "God damn it," he breathed, shutting down his laptop for the night. Shedding his jeans and t-shirt and crawling into bed, he squeezed his eyes shut, only one thought running through his brain. He totally did not have a crush on Derek Hale. Even if his dick seemed to think otherwise.

.-.-.

Mug of coffee gripped tight between his hands, Stiles yawned, still wondering if Derek's appearance in his room the night before had been a dream. There was a text on his phone from Scott timestamped several hours ago, apologising for having a pack training day, but Stiles wasn't all that bothered. If Scott cared that much, he would have invited Stiles along. He probably just liked spending the time with Allison.

Relinquishing his coffee in order to grab cereal from the cupboard, he tried to wake himself up a little more. It was weird; he'd actually gotten a decent amount of sleep, once he'd finally gone to bed. If he had indeed been visited by the Alpha, and not just hallucinated the whole thing, the visit seemed to have done him good. Still, he hoped it was a dream. If it was a dream, it would totally excuse the boner he woke up with. If it was reality, well; there was no way Derek had missed the horniness that kicked in when Stiles saw him. Maybe he would just ignore it, like he seemed to every other time Stiles got turned on in his presence. Stiles could take a hint.

Full of Lucky Charms and caffeine, Stiles felt a little more human when he wandered into the living room after a shower and a quick jerk off. His dad had already left for work, a note on the fridge informing Stiles he'd be home just in time for dinner. That meant only one thing to Stiles; bringing his laptop down in front of the TV. There was no better companion to researching werewolves than shitty sci-fi B movies and cop dramas. He frowned when the doorbell rang, but got up, figuring there was a delivery or something. He didn't remember ordering anything off the internet, but a lot of the past week was a blur to him.

"Stiles, hey." The teen's eyes widened at seeing Danny stood on his doorstep, a somewhat nervous smile on his face.

"Danny. Hi. Uh, what are you doing here? No offence," Stiles added quickly, making the taller boy laugh. Danny had only ever been over when Stiles had needed his tech expertise.

"Well I was meant to be spending the day with Jackson, but he text this morning to blow me off for something vague and mysterious. So I figured, hey, if it's anything like all the previous vague and mysterious outings, Scott's probably blown you off to go with him," he explained with a shrug. "And Lydia is wherever Jackson is, so I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out or something?"

The surprise on Stiles' face was obvious, and he took a few moments to formulate a response. Danny wanted to hang out with him? "Sure, sounds great." Derek had a point about him not having left the house in a while. And it would really piss off Jackson if Stiles spent time with his best friend. Besides, Danny was cool. "Just, uh, let me get some shoes." He stepped back from the door, letting Danny step into the hallway as he scanned the nearby area for his sneakers. "How've you been, anyway? Haven't seen you since school let out, man."

"Oh, y'know," Danny replied, a half-smile on his face. "Found a guy, dumped the guy for cheating, got drunk with Jackson who seems to be disappearing on me all the time. The usual."

"Aw, dude, that sucks," Stiles hummed sympathetically, standing up once his shoes were laced. Ducking into the kitchen, he grabbed his wallet and keys off the counter, grinning at Danny. "Right, let's go. Where are we going? Also, my car or yours?" Danny laughed, smile widening. His own car was parked a little way down the street, and he shrugged.

"Yours is fine. We can go wherever you like. I mean, I half expected you to be off with Scott and Jackson and whoever else, so I didn't really plan ahead." Stiles snorted, and the sound came out more bitter than he'd intended.

"Me, out with their little gang? Gotta be kidding me, I'm way too cool for them," he joked, drawing a grin to the other boy's lips.

"Of course, how stupid of me to assume. We could just drive for a while?" Shrugging, Stiles nodded, texting his dad to let him know he was going out. The man would probably throw a party, or something. Locking the house behind them, he followed Danny to the Jeep, hopping in the driver's seat. "So how's your summer been so far?" Stiles almost laughed aloud, managing to swallow it at the last minute.

"This is the first time I've left the house in about a week," he admitted wryly. "It's been great." Danny snickered.

"Scott doing his Allison thing?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't even know what's going on with them anymore." That was sort-of true; they were apparently back together, but with the whole hunter-and-werewolf thing going on, Stiles had no idea how long that would be happening. Part of him hoped Scott sorted things out and got to stay with her, but a tiny, guilty, jealous part of him hoped Chris Argent would keep them apart. He was losing his best friend enough as it was, he didn't need another person there to take up Scott's time. Between Derek, Isaac and Allison, Scott had no time left for Stiles. "But he keeps ditching me to hang with her, so presumably they're back on."

Scott's kind-of a jerk," Danny said hesitantly, as if expecting Stiles to jump to his friend's honour. Stiles merely snickered, lips quirking.

"Yeah, kinda. But he's my jerk, so what can you do?" He stopped at a set of traffic lights, still not really sure where they were headed.

"I know what you mean. Jackson's a douche at the best of times, but I love him anyway. Doesn't stop me wanting to punch him in the face, mind," Danny remarked, making Stiles laugh. How he wished someone would punch Jackson in the face, sometimes. The guy was a lot better than he had been, ever since the whole Kanima thing, but he was still Jackson. His two moods were grumpy and grumpier; he was rivalling Derek for the title of Sourwolf.

Turning a corner, Stiles realised he was driving them to the lacrosse pitch. A wistful feeling squirmed in the pit of his stomach; Scott had promised him countless times that they'd come out and work on his technique, and he'd bailed almost every time to go do something with the pack. He glanced at Danny, who didn't seem to have any complaints about the destination. Pulling into a parking space, he cut the engine, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. "Wanna play?" he offered. "I've got stuff in my trunk. Scott was going to, but…"

"Vague and mysterious," Danny finished for him, a knowing look in his eyes. "Sure, why not. After the final game, you might actually have a chance at first line next year. You could do with a little practice."

"Thanks, I think," Stiles snorted, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. Danny helped him unload the equipment, carrying half of it over to the goal. The place was deserted, as expected in the summer, though Stiles couldn't help but worry Finstock was going to pop out of nowhere and start yelling at him. They started out just passing halfheartedly, falling into an easy rhythm of back and forth. It was nice, playing lacrosse with someone other than Scott, just for fun. Even when his best friend promised not to use his wolf powers, he ended up using them out of instinct, and it took half the fun out of it when Stiles constantly got his ass kicked. Danny was good, but he was human-good, so there was a better chance of actually matching him.

"Hey, Stiles. You're in on whatever Jackson's big secret is, right? You have to be; McCall can't keep secrets from you," Danny pointed out, sounding curious. Stiles tried not to visibly wince; Jackson was determined to keep Danny out of things, to keep him safe, but the Hawaiian teen wasn't stupid. He would probably figure out something eventually.

"…Yeah, I know," he admitted, flicking the ball back in the direction it had come, watching Danny catch it easily.

"I won't ask you to tell me," Danny assured quickly. "Jackson clearly doesn't want me involved, and he'll kill you if he thinks you told me anything. But, can you, I…" He lowered his lacrosse stick, a frown on his face as he stepped closer. "It's not anything dangerous, is it? It can't be drugs — he'd never do them, and I can't see Scott getting into that either. But it's gotta be something big, and I'm worried about him. Is he okay?"

Biting his lip, Stiles set his stick down, shuffling closer to Danny. "I don't know what to tell you, man," he admitted honestly. "Whatever you're thinking it is, it's probably not that. But… he's doing okay. It'll be better for him, in the long run." Because Jackson was definitely less of an asshole since the Kanima, and the pack was teaching him how to continue to not be an asshole. Most of the time, anyway.

"I notice you don't use the word safe," Danny pointed out wryly, making Stiles wince.

"I wish I could tell you, dude, I really do. Have you talked to Jackson about it?" Danny was the guy's best friend, surely he'd cave eventually. Danny shrugged, and they both walked over to the bleachers, perching side by side on the nearest bench.

"I've tried, but he always changes the subject. He likes to think I haven't noticed anything, and he gets angry if I push, so I just leave it. I mean, if Lydia knows and is okay with it, and you know and you're okay with it, then it can't be too bad. It's just, Jackson hasn't had secrets from me since we were like, eight." He didn't look happy, and Stiles bumped his shoulder supportively.

"I'll talk to him, see if I can convince him to tell you something. Secrets suck." Having Danny in the know would be enormously helpful, especially when it came to logging all the bestiary data and stuff Stiles found on the internet. He could probably set up a database in about ten minutes. "But even if he doesn't, you don't need to worry about him. Plenty of people have his back, and… it's a little dangerous, but he can handle it." They still weren't sure what kind of werewolf Jackson was, but he seemed to be on par with the others, if not slightly above them in strength. He could hold his own.

"Thanks," Danny replied, a smile crossing his lips. "I can't believe he thinks I haven't figured out that something's wrong," he added, shaking his head with a chuckle. "I mean, God, I know him better than anyone. Better than Lydia, even."

"He's not the sharpest tool in the box," Stiles pointed out, making Danny laugh. "He probably just wants to think you haven't noticed so he can feel less guilty about telling you. That's how Scott works with all the Allison stuff. But he's kind-of a potato."

"And Jackson's not?" Danny joked, smiling. His shoulders were less tense, and Stiles hoped he'd reassured him somewhat about Jackson. He couldn't imagine not being in the know, having Scott disappear on him all the time and come up with shitty excuses about where he'd been. He probably would have started stalking him in order to figure it out, had it been him.

"Can I ask you something?" Stiles started, his thoughts jumping from Scott to the pack to Derek, as they tended to fairly often.

"Since when have you needed permission?" the taller teen reasoned, shrugging. "Yeah, sure."

"Am I attractive to gay guys?" Danny groaned as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and Stiles grinned briefly.

"Stiles…" Danny sighed, making Stiles' heart sink. That was a no. "Is one girl attractive to all straight guys? Different guys have different tastes. I mean, you're not my type, but I bet there are plenty of gay guys who would jump on you in a second." He paused, smirking as he glanced at Stiles. "Was there one in particular you had in mind?"

"Uh, well, I—" Stiles felt himself flushing, and Danny's smirk widened, before he frowned.

"Wait, you didn't want to be my type, did you?" he asked suddenly, looking alarmed. Stiles' eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head quickly.

"No, no. No offence, dude, but it's not you." Danny looked relieved, and the smirk returned.

"But it is someone, right?" he urged playfully. "I thought you were into girls. I mean, you've been crazy in love with Lydia since third grade."

"Yeah, that's not a thing anymore," Stiles assured. He knew when something was a lost cause, and there was no way Lydia would ever leave Jackson. "And, I think, maybe, both? Like, I don't not like girls, but guys are hot too, and this guy is just—" He cut himself off before he could start waxing lyrical about Derek Hale, making Danny snort.

"One of those, huh?" he mused knowingly. "Do I know him?"

"No, he's, uh, older," Stiles answered, cheeks still burning red. He couldn't believe that the first person he came out to, so to speak, was Danny. Scott would be so pissed if he found out.

"It's not the mysterious cousin Miguel by any chance, is it?" Head snapping up, Stiles went wide-eyed, and Danny snickered, shoulder pressing to Stiles'. "Dude, you don't have a cousin. And you definitely don't stare at your cousin's naked torso like you did."

"…His name's Derek," Stiles admitted tentatively, leaning his head on Danny's shoulder. "And oh my God, it's driving me crazy. I mean, you saw those abs, right? How is that even possible?" Danny laughed, squeezing him around the shoulders with one long arm.

"Welcome to my world, man. Kudos to you for having great taste, that man is crazy hot. Seemed a little…"

"Death glare-y?" Stiles filled in, earning a nod. "Yeah, he's like that most of the time. But he's actually a total softie underneath that, even if he threatens to kill anyone who tries to make him show it." He sighed, smiling ruefully. "Once again, I seem to have fallen for someone who's so far out of my league they're practically another species." Or literally, in Derek's case. "I don't even know if he's into dudes."

"Don't be like that," Danny encouraged. "Yeah, you're not my type, but that doesn't mean I can't recognise attractive qualities. And you, my friend, have many. There's plenty to like about you, Stiles. And I'm telling you, for God's sake, climb that sexy asshole like a tree on behalf of all horny teenage boys and girls in the world. It would be a crime not to." Stiles nearly choked on his laughter, Danny's leering grin just making it worse.

"Oh, God, I wish," he retorted, imagining just that. Damn.

"Down, boy," Danny teased. "You'll get there. And just a tip; keep letting your hair grow out." Stiles raised an eyebrow, and the Hawaiian boy winked. "It's way hotter than the buzz cut look." Feeling his face go pink, Stiles made a mental note to keep that in mind. He hadn't thought his hair had made much of a difference to his looks, but apparently so. "Now come on, you should do some shooting practice. Make first line next year and invite Derek to a game, he won't be able to say no to the MVP." Laughing as Danny pulled him to his feet, Stiles made for his lacrosse stick with a spring in his step. The thought of making out with Derek under the bleachers was almost enough to counterbalance the terror at the prospect of his dad seeing Derek Hale at one of their games.

.-.

It was late when they finally called it a day, and the Sheriff's car was in the driveway when Stiles pulled in, letting Danny get in his own car after thanking him profusely. Being able to talk about Derek as if he was just a normal guy he had a crush on was oddly freeing, and it had helped him sort things out in his mind a lot. Danny was great, really. Stiles didn't know why they hadn't become friends before — oh. Right. Jackson.

"Dad, I'm home!" he called upon stepping through the door, kicking his shoes off and grinning at the familiar scent of macaroni cheese.

"Kitchen, kiddo!" came the reply. Wandering into the kitchen, Stiles found his father stood at the stove, stirring pasta and sauce. He was pleased to see there was also some broccoli cooking; his dad was learning. "Have a good day out with Scott?"

"Oh, I wasn't with Scott," Stiles replied, hopping up onto the counter. "He's with Allison today. I was hanging out with Danny." Surprise visibly crossed his dad's face, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't think you and Danny were all that close." Shrugging, Stiles swung his legs, stomach rumbling. Lacrosse made him hungry.

"I have friends other than Scott," he assured playfully, though he could understand where his dad was coming from. He never hung out with people without Scott. "Danny's cool. We played lacrosse, hung out on the bleachers. It was fun."

"Cheering him up after another break-up?" Turning off the gas, the sheriff reached for two plates, grabbing the large serving spoon off the counter.

"No, not this time. He was with a guy earlier and they split, but he seems okay about it. I don't think he was all that into him to be honest," Stiles mused, sliding off the counter to get out some cutlery out.

"Well, that's good, I guess." There was a lull in conversation as the pair sat down to eat, Stiles wolfing down his meal like he hadn't eaten in a week. "Where is Scott, anyway? I haven't seen him around in a while. Are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. He's just, y'know, Allison," Stiles replied, shrugging. If Scott wasn't talking about the pack, he was talking about his girlfriend. It was getting kind of irritating. His dad's eyes softened, and he gave Stiles a sympathetic look.

"You know he still loves you, right? It's just his first relationship, that always happens with kids. I bet you'll be the same when you finally get Lydia to give you a chance," he added with a grin. Stiles snorted, shaking his head.

"I've given up on that, Dad. She's not into me, it's never gonna happen. I'm moving on." It was the first time he'd said that and it had actually sounded believable, and Stiles was pretty impressed with himself for it. Of course, the fact that he was moving on to Derek Hale was something his dad didn't need to know.

"Oh. Good on you, son. You'll find someone in no time, I'm sure. Then you can give Scott a taste of his own medicine," the Sheriff joked, before pausing, looking tentative and somewhat awkward. Stiles braced himself for an uncomfortable fatherly-concern conversation — God help him if his dad uttered the word 'condoms' or anything to do with sexual safety. "Are you hanging out with Danny again sometime soon?" Perplexed, Stiles shrugged.

"Maybe, I dunno, he said he'd call if Jackson bailed on him again." There would no doubt be another pack training day soon, and while he'd promised Derek he'd start going to meetings again, there was no reason for him to be at wolfy boot camp. The only reason Lydia and Allison went was to hang out with their boyfriends, he was sure.

"Is there, uh, anything going on there?" It took Stiles several moments to figure out his father's strangely-worded question, and he coughed around a mouthful of pasta, laughing.

"What, me and Danny?" The Sheriff looked uncomfortable as he nodded, and Stiles laughed harder. "No way, man, we're just friends. But thank you for the faith in me to believe I could score someone like him." He might be way into Derek, but he could see Danny was crazy hot. His string of equally hot boyfriends only attested to that. His dad looked both relieved and embarrassed, and Stiles thought back to Danny's words from earlier, when he'd asked if anyone else knew that he swung both ways. This was one secret in his life he could actually be honest with his father about. "Did you, uh, expect there to be something going on between me and Danny?"

"How the hell should I know? You've been so quiet lately, Stiles, there could be anything going on with you. Quite frankly a sexuality crisis is one of my preferred options on the list," the Sheriff remarked dryly, and Stiles didn't know whether to laugh or wince. He dreaded to think what the other options on that list could be. "So have you got something to tell me, son?"

"I, um, might not be as straight as I previously assumed?" he admitted tentatively, watching his father's face carefully. There was surprise, of course, but there was also a strange sort of proud satisfaction that Stiles was telling the truth about something, and it hurt more than Stiles expected. God, he wished he could tell his dad about werewolves. "Not totally gay," he clarified, taking a deep breath. "I'm bisexual, Dad." He waited with his heart in his throat for his dad's reaction, trying not to look too nervous.

"As long as you're happy, kiddo, I couldn't give a damn who you date," the elder Stilinski declared, shuffling his chair around to bring his son into a hug. Stiles was going to remember those exact words, just on the off chance he did end up getting Derek to agree to go out with him, and they got to the point of telling his father. A lump welled up in his throat as he hugged back tightly, and he swallowed it back resolutely. If he broke now, everything would come spilling out, and he'd end up saying something about wolves.

"Thanks, Dad."

"So is there anyone I should know about?" the tall man asked, a playful grin on his face. "The next Lydia-scale crush? You're not going for Danny, are you, because I've seen the kind of guy he dates and I hate to tell you, son, but you're far from it." Snorting, Stiles shook his head. His dad would have a heart attack if he even so much as mentioned the name Derek.

"No, God, it's not Danny!" he insisted, blushing. "I told you, we're just friends. It's nice to have someone to talk to about stuff, y'know? I mean, Scott's great, but he wouldn't really get it. I haven't told him yet." And he preferably never would until either he knew Derek — God forbid — actually liked him back, or he had moved on to someone else. If Scott thought he was hung up over Derek in another unrequited love thing, he'd confront Derek, and Stiles would never live it down.

"I don't think he'll have a problem with it, when you do tell him," the Sheriff encouraged. "He's your best friend."

"Yeah, I know, and I will tell him eventually. I just wanted to figure some things out first. Talking to Danny helped."

"Then I'm glad you had him to talk to. And thank you for telling me, Stiles. I know it's not an easy thing to come to terms with at your age. I love you, kid." Stiles smiled at his dad, hugging him tightly.

"Love you too, Dad. Thanks." The moment was interrupted by Stiles' phone bleeping in his pocket, and he pulled back from the embrace, checking it. It was a text from Derek, simply reading 'Pack meeting, my place, twenty minutes. Don't skip out.'. "That's Scott, wants to know if I can come watch a movie with him or something," he lied easily, the guilty feeling returning. So much for honesty.

"Of course you can. Call if you'll be staying over, and I've got an early shift tomorrow so try not to come back too late." The Sheriff didn't seem bothered, and Stiles hated himself for being glad about the fact that his dad would assume that was all there was to the lying, and they'd worked past things. He would have much more freedom now, until he screwed it up again.

"Awesome, thanks Dad. I doubt I'll be out too late." Pack meetings usually ended after an hour or two, and then he might actually go over to Scott's for a while. He missed his best friend.

Dumping his dishes in the sink, Stiles hurried to grab his jacket and shove his feet back into his shoes, heading back out to his Jeep. Derek's place was still the abandoned rail station, though he knew Lydia had mentioned something about renovating the Hale house. It would be great if they could get the enormous house back to functioning, but Stiles could totally understand if Derek never wanted to step foot in there again. It didn't exactly hold good memories anymore.

Everyone was already gathered by the time he arrived, clearly having been there already from training. Scott had a rapidly fading black eye, and there were blood spots on Boyd's shirt. "Hey," Stiles greeted, trying not to seem nervous. He hadn't been around the whole pack in a week.

"Good, you're here," Derek said, as if he hadn't expected anything less, though Stiles caught the half-second smile the Alpha sent his way. Squeezing in beside Scott on the semi-collapsed couch, he smiled back at Derek, ignoring the surprise on everyone else's faces. Clearly they'd expected him to be a no-show again.

"You smell like Danny," Jackson declared, a frown on his face.

"Yeah, we hung out today. He came over once you ditched him," Stiles replied, feeling strangely smug at the blonde's irritated expression upon finding out Stiles had been spending time with his best friend. Danny was way too good for Jackson.

"Jesus, what did you do, sleep with the guy?" Scott remarked lightly, sniffing at Stiles' shoulder. "His scent is all over you." Flushing, Stiles shook his head, nudging Scott out of his personal space. The smelling thing would never not be weird.

"No, dude. Why does everyone think there's something going on with me and Danny?" It would have been a great segway into his discovery about his sexuality, but Derek interrupted with a growl that had all his betas sitting straight up and attentive.

"We didn't call the meeting to discuss Stilinski's sex life," he barked, rolling his eyes. "So let's get to work. Stiles, did you find out anything more about those symbols?" The Alphas had been carving symbols other than their usual mark into the trees, and Stiles had been charged with identifying them.

"I did, actually, yeah." He pulled his phone from his pocket, opening the notes he'd taken, and trying to ignore Scott's sniffing and Jackson's glares. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed being with the pack until now. Maybe he'd actually have to thank Derek for knocking some sense into him.

.-.-.

The meeting was fairly uneventful, and Stiles did actually go over to Scott's for a few rounds of Halo before his friend got too distracted texting Allison. Scott hadn't mention Danny, or the fact that he hadn't seen Stiles all week, or much of anything really. Stiles was sort of glad, but also sort of not; he wanted to talk about it, he did, but he didn't know how to bring it up without Scott starting the conversation. But it could wait; things would come out eventually, no doubt. If Scott ever came down from his Allison-haze. "Scott okay?" the Sheriff called from the living room as Stiles entered the house, making the teen smile.

"Yeah, he's fine. I left him to text Allison in peace," he remarked with a wry grin. His dad frowned.

"He means well," he insisted. "You know Scott."

"Oh, totally," Stiles agreed, well aware his best friend had no idea he was ignoring Stiles accidentally. "He's a potato, that's nothing new." The Sheriff snorted, shaking his head. "I'm gonna go upstairs, hang out in my room for a while. Maybe Skype Danny." He could tell by the look on his father's face that he didn't believe when Stiles said there was nothing going on between them, and if the older man thought he was Skyping a potential date, he'd stay well out of Stiles' way. Somewhat underhanded tactics, but when the alternative was his dad walking in while Stiles had gruesome werewolf-murder pictures up on his laptop, he was willing to play dirty.

"I'll be going to bed in a little while, so don't stay up too late, and I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Night, kid," his dad replied, smiling once more as Stiles left the room, heading upstairs. Nudging his door open, he had to cover his mouth to stop himself screaming at the sight of Derek Hale sat at his desk, leather jacket slung over the back of the chair. Quickly slipping into the room and locking his door, he glared at the Alpha, crossing to turn on some low music for when his dad walked by to go to bed.

"What the hell, Derek?" he hissed in irritation. "How long have you been in here?"

"About fifteen minutes," Derek replied unapologetically. "Since just after you left Scott's."

"Are— Are you stalking me?" The werewolf snorted, raising one eyebrow.

"No, I was stalking Chris Argent. But he wasn't doing anything, and I knew when Scott called Allison for phone sex that you clearly weren't at his anymore, so I came over." Wrinkling his nose at the thought of Scott and Allison having phone sex, Stiles shook it off, still glaring.

"And you didn't think to maybe text me and let me know? Why are you here, anyway? I saw you like two hours ago at the meeting," he pointed out, leaning his hip against the desk not far from where Derek was sat.

"I wanted to check you were okay," the man bit out, sounding physically pained to be admitting such a thing. "You didn't say much at the meeting, after the start. And Jackson was a jerk." He'd spent the whole meeting ribbing Stiles about having to find a replacement for Scott, and how Danny already had a best friend so he should look elsewhere. Stiles had tried not to let it get to him; he was clearly just jealous. Maybe it would teach him not to leave Danny hanging so often.

"Jackson's been a jerk since kindergarten, I'm used to it," he assured flatly. "But I appreciate the concern, Sourwolf." Derek scowled, the faintest flush of pink spreading across his cheeks, leaving Stiles internally crowing in victory. "And I didn't say much at the meeting because there wasn't much for me to say." He paused, sighing. Derek was just trying to be nice, in his weird, emotionally constipated way. "But yeah, I'm okay. Much better than last night, actually. Only taken one Adderall today, and no Red Bull." He was starting to regret that decision, feeling exhausted at only 11pm, but it was for the best.

"You smell better. Under the Danny smell," Derek told him. The teen raised his eyebrows.

"Thanks, I think. Do I really smell that much like Danny?" All they'd done was sit next to each other and hug occasionally. Sure, they were both sweaty from lacrosse, but could that really have left so much of a scent on him?

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you spent the whole day cuddling him," the Alpha informed him in a growl, eyes going red as he sniffed deeply. "And I only know better because you don't smell like sex or arousal. More than usual, at least." That was probably about to change, Stiles mused silently, his whole body jumping to attention as soon as the word 'arousal' slipped from Derek's lips in that husky, half-wolf voice.

"You can, uh, smell that, huh?" he checked, confirming what he'd already assumed. Derek smirked, nodding, and Stiles hoped he wasn't blushing too hard. "Well, I wasn't cuddling with Danny. We played lacrosse, we hung out, we talked about stuff. He's been down about Jackson keeping secrets from him, and I've been, y'know." He couldn't bring himself to repeat what he'd told Derek the night before, not now he was mostly in his right mind. "It helped a lot. Spending time with someone who isn't involved in this whole crazy mess, no offence."

"You can't tell him anything," Derek said instantly, gaze fixed on Stiles.

"Dude, I know," Stiles retorted, rolling his eyes. "Though I still don't think it would be terrible if he found out. He's smart, and crazy awesome with computers. He could be useful to the pack." And Jackson would probably be less of an ass if he wasn't hiding things from Danny.

"The fewer people involved, the better. If he was told, he'd probably want to be turned, and I can't do that."

"Why not?" Stiles asked simply. "You didn't have a problem biting anyone else who asked. Or do you have standards that we don't know about?" He winced internally as his voice cracked the faintest amount. He didn't want the bite, he was glad Peter hadn't bitten him, but… wasn't he good enough to even offer?

"I gave the others the bite because they needed something from me," Derek told him, voice quiet. "Erica, Isaac, Boyd; they all needed something, needed the bite. Needed the power that came with the bite, just to finally stand on their own two feet. And Jackson, well, he blackmailed me into it. If I didn't bite him, he'd tell everyone about us. Danny, and you—" Of course he hadn't missed out on that "— you don't need anything from me. You're better off without the bite, already standing up for yourself. Giving you the bite wouldn't make anything better. If anything, it would make things worse. One more thing to lie to your dad about, and a huge thing to stop you walking away from all this."

"There's already a huge thing stopping me from walking away from this," Stiles cut in, frowning. "Two huge things, in fact. Scott, and the pack." Derek ducked his head, shoulders tensing.

"Yeah, but there's no going back from the bite. You're strong enough not to need it, to survive being human. Even if you wanted it, I'd never give it to you. Or Danny. He doesn't need to be involved in this." Smirking to himself, Stiles let Derek get away with the swift change in subject, chest swelling with pleasure at the backhanded compliment. Derek thought he was stronger than the betas he'd bitten.

"Surely that's the pack decision to make?" he reasoned.

"I'm the Alpha," Derek declared, as if that was the final word on the subject. "I make decisions on behalf of the pack. So I'm sorry if you want another human around to commiserate with, but Danny stays out of it. And in future, you might want to shower after you spend time with him, before coming to pack meetings. Jackson might rip your throat out if he thinks you're sleeping with his best friend." There was a dark look in his eyes, and Stiles realised with a jolt that it looked an awful lot like Derek was jealous. Was he getting all pack possessive again?

"Hey, Derek, the pack comes first," he assured quietly, edging closer. "Even if I ever manage to not be single, when hell freezes over and pigs fly. The pack will still come first."

"I know that," Derek replied stiffly. Stiles opened his mouth to ask what his problem was in that case, but shut it again quickly, eyes going wide. Was Derek jealous of Danny? He bravely met Derek's gaze head-on, looking at blue-grey rather than red, and tried to direct his thoughts towards the dirtiest thing he could think of. Being a teenage boy with an incredibly hot guy right in front of him, that wasn't hard, and as he felt his arousal growing he watched Derek's face, seeing his nostrils flare. The Alpha's jaw immediately clenched as he caught the scent, lips curling in a scowl, but pupils blatantly blowing wide. Stiles had to do it; he had to take the chance. Even if he fucked things up forever, it would be no big loss to the pack. And Derek clearly wasn't going to make a move himself.

"Sourwolf, are you jealous?" he breathed teasingly, heart racing. Derek stiffened, glaring up at Stiles, but leaning in closer regardless. "You are. Maybe you should have been stalking me today. You would have been treated to the fun show of Danny listening to me have a freakout because I'm totally into a guy who's way out of my league." He smirked as Derek's posture tensed even more, and tilted his head in closer. The werewolf's fists were clenched at his side, and Stiles hoped he wasn't reading the situation completely wrong. "He wasn't all that surprised. Apparently the cousin Miguel story was flawed." Just as Derek went wide-eyed, Stiles closed the gap, adrenaline pumping through him as he pressed his lips to the taller man's. Derek froze at the contact, unresponsive, but before Stiles could pull away and apologise a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer as the Alpha's lips finally moved against him. Stiles hummed breathlessly into the kiss, letting out a muffled yelp as Derek yanked him onto his lap with a growl, straddling the werewolf's denim-clad thighs. As their tongues tangled, a hand slid into Stiles' hair and gripped, just on the pleasurable side of tight. Stiles couldn't help himself, letting one hand sneak under Derek's t-shirt as the other grasped a muscular shoulder to keep his balance. Derek rocked up into him as fingers skated over hard muscle, and Stiles moaned, hard-on pressing painfully at the fly of his jeans.

"Oh my God, you're going to kill me," he breathed once they parted, panting. Even Derek seemed flustered, his breathing heavier than usual, his eyes dark and lips kiss-swollen. It was a good look for him. "How. Why. You're an adult and insanely sexy and not supposed to be interested in stupid teenagers. What. Nyeh." Derek snorted, rolling his eyes and leaning in to nip at Stiles' lower lip.

"Have I finally broken that super-speed brain of yours?" he teased, voice husky for an entirely different reason.

"Just a little bit," Stiles admitted, flailing with the hand that wasn't still resting on Derek's abs. "How?"

"You're such an idiot, Stiles." The words were fond, and Derek brought him in for another kiss, this one surprisingly sweet. "And if you think you're going to turn me into a sappy moron who lists all the reasons why they fell for someone, you're very, very wrong." He smiled, wider and more intimate than anything Stiles had seen from here before, and Stiles forgot to breathe for a few moments. "But it's a pretty long list."

"Oh my God," Stiles repeated, forehead pressing to Derek's. "I can't. Does not compute. Just… I'm gonna need a little while to adjust my worldview, dude."

"You're the one who kissed me," Derek pointed out, and Stiles scoffed.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd go for it! The plan was to pass it off as sleep deprivation and teenage hormones." Derek snorted, shaking his head.

"Idiot," he said again, making it sound like a term of endearment, fingers sliding through Stiles' hair. Growing out the buzz cut was definitely the best decision Stiles had ever made.

"So this is a thing? You and me?" the teen asked tentatively, sure he'd fallen asleep on Scott's couch and would wake up at any moment.

"The pack will smell you on me as soon as I go back to the station," Derek rumbled, the arm around Stiles' waist still draped comfortably, hand resting on his hip. "I wouldn't have done this if I wasn't sure."

"Wow, okay. Awesome." Grin curving at his lips, Stiles dared to move his hand up to the back of Derek's head, leaning in for another kiss. He could definitely get used to that. "Stay the night?" he asked, screwing up his courage. "Just to sleep." Derek never stayed for long, and Stiles had always wondered what it would be like if he stayed until morning. He wasn't ready for anything other than cuddling, but if nighttime was the only time he got to spend time with Derek, he'd take what he could get.

"I can't," Derek murmured, sounding regretful. "I don't want to move too fast. You're sixteen, Stiles, even if you seem so much older. I want to do this right, so your dad has no reason to shoot me when you eventually tell him."

"You'd want me to tell my dad about us?" Stiles asked in surprise. That sounded awfully long-term to him, and it made pleasure curl in his chest.

"He's your dad. You'll want to tell him eventually. I mean, we'll have to find some way to have him know I know you for reasons other than murder accusations, but we'll figure it out." Stiles snorted, shaking his head. That would be a fun conversation. "I can't stay the night, but I can stay a while longer," Derek added. "If you want."

"Of course I want," Stiles muttered, kissing him, still hardly able to believe he was allowed to do that. "Come on, I have some research to do." Reluctantly sliding off of Derek's lap, he kept an arm around the werewolf's neck as they both stood, finally looking up at the older man. Derek smirked, placing a hand against the desk and wrapping the other arm around Stiles, pinning him in a kiss, this time having the upper hand. Stiles was more than okay with that.

Tossing his jacket in the corner and poking Derek in the ribs until he took off his boots, Stiles grabbed his laptop off the desk and took it towards the bed, grinning as his boyfriend — that was an awesome word to think — obediently followed. They got comfortable lying together, Derek propped against the headboard and Stiles tucked under his arm, the laptop balanced between them. It wasn't a position particularly conducive to research, but Stiles wasn't expecting to get much done. Not when he had Derek Hale in his bed.

"You're really making sure the pack don't mistake what we've been up to, aren't you?" he said in amusement as Derek's nose pressed to his neck, lips trailing across the skin just over his pulse point, where his scent was strongest. The hand on Stiles' stomach was tracing up the lines of his chest, and the teen couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed about his lack of muscle definition, not when Derek clearly didn't seem to mind.

"If they're aware from the beginning, they can't accuse me of keeping secrets from them," the Alpha murmured, still nipping at Stiles' neck, leaving a hickey that would no doubt be a pain in the ass to hide in the morning. "You okay with that?"

"Have the whole pack aware that at some point in the hopefully near future I'll be boning their sexy Alpha?" he clarified, turning to meet Derek's eyes with a smirk. "More than okay with that." Derek snorted, catching his lips in a kiss, laptop starting up between them. They would have plenty of fallout in the morning — Stiles was dreading Scott's reaction — but as far as he was concerned, it was all worth it to be able to make out and cuddle with Derek Freaking Hale. The guy he was already most-of-the-way in love with. He settled back against Derek's chest, twining their fingers together as he used one hand to pull up his research, and felt Derek shift to get a better look at the screen. He could totally get used to researching like this more often.

"You don't smell like Danny anymore," Derek told him needlessly, making him snort.

"I just smell like you?" Derek kissed his jaw, hand slipping from Stiles' to move further down his body.

"Me, and this," he corrected, hand ghosting over the prominent tent in Stiles' jeans. The teen groaned under his breath, arching into the faint touch.

"God, Derek, you can't do that unless you're going to do something about it." The arousal had been present but comfortable before, but now it was rearing up inside him, burning through him. He felt Derek smirk against his neck, and the hand moved across to cup his hip.

"Too soon," he insisted. Stiles grumbled under his breath, pointedly pressing against Derek's crotch where he could feel a similar hardness. It still amazed him that he could inspire that sort of reaction in a guy like Derek.

"Jerk," he muttered, glaring at his laptop, and Derek snorted.

"After I'm back in my own bed," he teased, flooding Stiles' brain with mental images that really weren't helping him calm down. An apologetic kiss was dropped on his jaw, and he turned his head to bring Derek into a proper kiss, promising himself he'd get down to research in a little while.

Okay, maybe summer after Sophomore year wasn't a total loss. But if Stiles was still a virgin by the end of it, he was going to strangle someone. He had needs, damn it!