Pride

Stiles had a problem.

A fashion problem.

It was a problem because he liked his clothes and the way he dressed. It was comfortable and he felt attractive. Something pretty much everyone in his life had a hard time believing.

How could he feel attractive in baggy clothes and flannel? Sporting the grunge look when it wasn’t the right kind of retro?

Some people thought he was trying to hide his body because he wasn’t as cut or bulky as many of his friends. Some thought he had bad taste. Some thought he was insecure.

He didn’t care about any of that.

He did care, though, that his dad thought he couldn’t be gay because of how he dressed. And, sure, some might wave that away and say that if Stiles had been at the Jungle trying to pick up, he wouldn’t have worn his normal clothes.

Except he would and had. Stiles didn’t see the point in having club clothes when, if he hit it off with someone, they’d quickly learn that he wasn’t stylish. It almost felt dishonest. More importantly, he wanted someone to like him for as he was.

He didn’t think he should need to conform to some gay stereotype just so that people would take him or his sexuality seriously.

Queer people were diverse! It was totally a thing!

He would never, ever forget the cutting agony of his dad denying his sexuality based on fashion.

Stiles, for a while, tried to attribute their growing distance to the lies he had to tell about the supernatural.

In reality, he’d been pulling away since that comment.

No, he didn’t care if his dad thought it was another lie to cover his ass. Not even if he’d taken advantage of the situation to actually come out. Using the truth to distract his dad.

He hadn’t known how to tell his dad. Had been afraid. He saw an opportunity and took it.

Stiles was partially responsible for the disbelief, he knew. All these years of loudly declaring his love for Lydia. She’d been an easy cover. There’d been no chance that anything would come of it.

Now they were sort of… friends? War buddies?

Either way, he’d barely said anything about Lydia since this whole supernatural shitshow began. Too busy with more important things.

Like…

Derek.

Stiles simply could not pretend to like Lydia when Derek Hale existed in the same universe. Not when Derek was a part of his life.

At first it had just been, “Holy, shit that is the hottest man alive”. Then… they’d kept getting thrown together. He’d seen a different side of Derek when he’d been hiding out in his room. More of a glimpse, really, of the complicated man beneath the scowls and anger.

It didn’t help when Stiles had realized that Derek was only nineteen. Nineteen and trying just as desperately not to drown as the rest of them.

Sometimes literally.

The pool had been another turning point.

It was when Stiles had realized that the true Derek could be seen in his actions, not in his words. His words had said “I don’t trust you” but his actions said “I’ll protect you”. His actions had been saying that from the beginning. They’d also been saying, “I need you” and “Please help”.

When he and Scott had joined the pack, the potential to build trust had been there.

Until Scott had fucked it up by betraying all of them.

Derek’s attitude after that made it pretty clear that he thought Stiles had been with Scott. Not unreasonable given that he’d supported Scott in everything else.

Stiles didn’t know how to correct the misunderstanding.

He was still trying to deal with his own sense of betrayal and loss. Because Stiles couldn’t be friends with someone who’s actions had led to him, Erica, and Boyd being tortured.

Not when the same friend had bragged about his genius plan. Not when Stiles had also heard from Peter that Derek had begged Scott not to force him to bite Gerard.

Scott was busy with his summer self-improvement plan and Stiles was happy to let them just drift apart.

Stiles was having his own special kind of summer. Not so much self-improvement as ‘stop denying reality and start being real’.

Letting Scott go was part of it. Stiles hadn’t cared so much about Scott’s focus on Allison. He loved his bro and wanted him to have all the romance. Stiles started to get worried when it looked like Allison was kind of a terrible person but he’d shrugged it off. He couldn’t shrug off the direct experience he had with her awfulness, though. She was an objectively terrible person and Stiles couldn’t deal with Scott’s continued obsession. Throw in the betrayal and, yeah, time for Stiles to get real.

Either the bite had changed Scott into someone he didn’t like and couldn’t trust anymore. Or this had always been Scott and the bite had simply enabled him to let it all out. It didn’t really matter since the conclusion was the same: Stiles couldn’t be friends with him anymore.

Another major part of his ‘deal with reality’ plan was rolling with his sexuality.

Stiles knew that some people would wonder why it was such a big deal. Danny was out.

Danny was also the most likeable person, hot as fuck, and popular.

Stiles was already a target for bullies. Being queer would just add fuel to the fire.

Except, if he could taunt Gerard as he was being tortured, he could fucking deal with bullies.

This was how he found himself standing on the streets of San Francisco to celebrate Pride.

He might not have a whole lot to be proud about these days, but he was going to own this and be proud as fuck.

This was his first Pride. Stiles hadn’t expected it to be anything particularly special. He’d been to Jungle. He lived in California and, regardless of his hangups, being queer hadn’t caused him that much angst.

Except it was special.

He didn’t know if it feels this way every time but he felt free in a way he never had before.

Sure, he was wearing a loose graphic t-shirt and unflattering jeans (it was too hot for a plaid overshirt). He didn’t feel particularly attractive but was happy he’d grown his hair out a bit.

None of that mattered though. The energy of the parade and crowd was invigorating. He felt free and light. Like he could breathe and just be himself.

That for one shining moment he was amongst people like him and that he belonged.

He hadn’t felt like he belonged anywhere in a really long time.

He was smiling and cheering the various floats. His favourites were the community groups. If they had a float at all, it usually wasn’t very flashy. But it wasn’t corporate pandering and they all looked so happy to be there. It helped that they did genuine good for the community.

For his community.

It was crowded and people were pressed against him on all sides.

The crowd shifted and the hot body behind him felt different. This was confirmed when a hand landed on each hip. Big, hot hands that gave him a firm squeeze. It was a pretty bold move and Stiles turned his head to see what he was dealing with, before he decided whether or not to elbow this dude in the gut.

It was – and who else, really? – Derek Hale.

This sent a thrum of arousal and excitement shooting down his spine. Because Derek was wearing dark eyeliner. It made his brown/green starburst eyes pop even more. His stubble had levelled up to a beard. His hair was styled but looked soft and touchable.

Stiles didn’t know what to do or say. Because Derek Hale was at Pride wearing eyeliner and holding Stiles’ hips.

Derek leaned forward and nuzzled at Stiles’ neck, “Christ, you smell good. You always smell so good, Stiles. But right now? The scent of your enthusiasm and joy is practically intoxicating. I’ve tried so hard to keep my distance. It’s easier when you smell afraid or anxious. Now you’re irresistible…”

The soft/scratchy texture of Derek’s beard as he nuzzled Stiles was glorious. Derek’s words, easily the most he’d ever spoken to Stiles, had him going a little weak at the knees.

“I–” Stiles started.

“You’re missing the parade. We can talk after. I won’t be going anywhere,” Derek murmured.

Stiles took a deep breath. He didn’t want to miss the parade so he turned. Derek’s hands didn’t move. He dove back into the energy of the crowd. But he never forgot the presence of those two hands gripping his hips.

When the parade was over and Stiles could finally turn to face Derek he nearly choked.

The eyeliner had been bad enough. Derek was wearing neon blue booty shorts and a neon pink sleeveless v-neck crop top.

The crop-top was a little loose but still clung to his pecs. It had the word ‘BUTCH’ stretched across his chest. Derek had apparently stopped manscaping and his chest hair practically begged for fingers to scratch through it. The shifting of his top gave tantalizing peeks of his abs.

Those booty shorts… Derek’s package looked substantive. But it was his thighs that really got Stiles’ heart racing. Thick, muscular, and hairy. He also had an amazing ass.

Stiles was speechless.

Never once had he imagined that Derek ‘I’m the badboy your mom warned you about’ Hale would wear neon. He especially wouldn’t have been able to picture an outfit like this.

It was ridiculous. It should be ridiculous. But the juxtaposition of the super flamboyant clothing with Derek’s raw masculinity was… hot. It was the sort of outfit you’d expect a twink like Stiles to wear. The eyeliner – and was that tinted lip gloss? – brought out Derek’s pretty-boy looks. But then there was the beard and all that body hair and muscles.

Combined with the smirk he was giving Stiles? This was the hottest Stiles had ever seen Derek. And he’d seen him in the middle of a shirtless workout. Or angrily stripping.

“Wow. You look…” Stiles didn’t even know how to finish that.

“I’ll take your speechlessness as one of the best compliments I’ve ever had. I can scent what you think about my looks, no need to put it in words,” a corner of Derek’s mouth lifted in a half-grin.

Holy shit. Derek was flirting with him.

Okay, yeah, he’d said all that stuff about Stiles’ scent during the parade. But still.

Stiles could see all the looks and attention Derek was getting from the people around them. The man was in neon, he stood out. But he was easily the hottest person in San Francisco right now. And he was flirting with Stiles.

“Okay, dude. I can barely process the fact that you’re here and talking to me. Especially when you look like that and I look like this. I’m cute and all but I have no fashion sense, as everyone always tells me. In no version of reality, do I rate a guy like you. I thought you hated me. Maybe not the entire time but after Scott…” Stiles didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

He didn’t want to bring up all that Beacon Hills shit. Not when he’d been having such a great day. But… he couldn’t do whatever it is Derek was doing without clearing it up. Not when his summer goal was to fucking deal with reality and stop denying shit. This couldn’t be ignored.

Derek’s face smoothed out into that neutral bitch face of his, “We do have some things to talk about. You want to go get something to eat?”

Stiles was starving so, yeah, he could eat.

They ended up in a crowded diner in the Castro. People everywhere. But it pretty much guaranteed no one would be able to hear a quiet conversation in the din. Especially since Derek elected to sit beside him instead of across. Beside him with a hand on his thigh.

“For a while, I was hurt and angry because I thought you helped Scott betray me. That you betrayed me. But I’ve had time to think. You never would’ve done that. Maybe we didn’t like each other and were far too frequently at cross purposes, but you’re loyal. You wouldn’t have joined my pack and betrayed me,” Derek said quietly into Stiles’ ear.

Derek was just full of surprises today. First with all the talking. Second with his faith in Stiles.

“It’s not hard to see why you thought I had helped Scott. Like you said, I’m loyal. I’ve been on Scott’s side this entire time. But, no, I didn’t betray you. I believed then, and I still do, that we’re better working together,” Stiles replied.

“And that’s why you’re pack,” Derek growled the last word and it sent shivers down his spine.

“I am?” Stiles wondered.

“You joined my pack, Stiles. Scott might’ve rejected me but you haven’t. I haven’t rejected you. So, yes, you’re pack even if we haven’t made it official.”

“Why isn’t it official?” Stiles was confused. Because he remembers joining.

“Officially becoming pack requires more than just words, Stiles,” something about the way Derek spoke his name gave him goosebumps. He’d never met anyone else who could inject so much meaning into his name.

“How do I officially join?” Stiles was feeling a little breathless.

“It’s a werewolf pack. One guess about how we make it official,” Derek said with something sly in his tone.

Stiles knew. It could only be one thing, “You have to bite me.”

Derek gave a low, nearly inaudible growl. Stiles felt the vibrations more than anything else, “Yes. I’ll only turn you if you ask but you need to submit and I need to bite you.”

Stiles swallowed because he wanted this. The brief feeling of belonging he’d had at the parade had given him a taste. He wanted to belong. It’s why he’d joined the lacrosse team. But he was a bench warmer and half the team bullied him (mostly because of Jackson).

“And the flirting? I didn’t imagine that, did I? It wasn’t some kind of attempt to seduce me into your pack?” Stiles had to know.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Stiles. You don’t do that to pack. I already told you why I was flirting. You’ve always smelled like someone I want to claim. Someone who could be mine. It was easy to ignore when your scent was tinged with fear and anxiety. You might be surprised, but I don’t actually enjoy the scent of fear,” Derek said.

“Is this why you were so… aggressive? Trying to keep me just a little afraid so you could resist me?” Stiles suspiciously asked.

“You got me. Sorry. But then I caught your scent on the wind here, at Pride. It was joyful and bright and I couldn’t resist. I can stop, if you want. You’re pack no matter what. You’re pack because you’re brave, loyal, and you’ve always helped me even when you had no reason. You’ve earned your place,” Derek’s voice was so earnest.

“Yes,” Stiles breathed out in a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Yes to officially becoming pack. Yes to flirting and everything that comes with it. Yes to you,” Stiles answered, “Just… yes”

Derek flashed a brief, genuine, and beautiful smile before leaning in to give Stiles his first kiss.

Dance

Derek wanted to take him out dancing.

Dancing.

Derek wanted to go dancing.

Stiles knows he shouldn’t be so surprised. Derek was wearing a crop top. He, more than anyone, shouldn’t stereotype and put people into boxes.

Just because Derek was the most sour of wolves doesn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy dancing. While wearing booty shorts.

They were heading to a club. Stiles didn’t think he’d get in because, well, he knew he looked young. It was that damn nose and big eyes of his. Sure, he had the whole twink thing going for him but he didn’t think anyone would let an underage and poorly dressed twink into a club.

So he went along.

He forgot to factor in Derek’s… everything.

He remembers watching Derek flirt with the deputy. That blinding (but fake) smile. The swagger and confidence. So watching him turn it on while looking like that? Yeah. He’s not surprised that Derek got away with bypassing the long line, smiling brightly, and dragging Stiles in behind him.

Stiles was pretty sure the bouncer was too busy looking at Derek’s impressive package to even notice him.

It wasn’t until Derek turned on the fake charm that Stiles really noticed the difference. All afternoon Derek’s been more… at ease. Settled in his skin. No swagger but still confident. Like he’s given himself the day off from being a broody sourwolf.

Thing is… even when Derek was a beta he had a presence about him. It wasn’t just the scowl and eyebrows. Or the pretty face. He draws people’s attention. People in a crowded area make room for him.

The effect is magnified now that he’s an alpha. They’ve been walking down streets packed with people celebrating Pride but Stiles hasn’t felt crowded. Derek creates this bubble around them. Like people can sense he’s a predator.

It’s working in the club. It’s packed. Hot, sweaty, and shirtless bodies everywhere. A feast for the eyes.

But Derek walks in and people shuffle aside. He doesn’t seem to notice as he walks in a straight line to the bar. Stiles knows he does notice. Their lives are too filled with danger. Derek is scanning the crowd. Gauging reactions. Looking for danger. Stiles knows because he’s been doing the same. Gerard grabbing him at the lacrosse game taught him that he needs to always be at least a little aware.

Next time he won’t be such an easy mark.

Derek just gets them bottles of water. He can’t get drunk and Stiles doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to again. Again, too much danger. He can’t afford delayed reaction times.

Not that he feels the need for a drink. He’s been riding a wave of euphoria that comes from feeling free. From the sense that he belongs ever since the parade. He feels light and buoyant.

The kisses Derek’s been dropping on him have definitely kept that feeling alive. Same with the look in Derek’s eyes. The way he can’t stop scenting Stiles.

Derek drags him onto the dance floor and they start dancing.

The most hilarious thing ever is that Derek is a terrible dancer. Worse than Stiles who is all flailing limbs and jerky movements. But at least he’s on beat. Derek is decidedly not. Zero rhythm. Rhythm took one look at the dude and died of fright.

It’s fucking adorable.

Stiles has been paying attention to how people are watching Derek. He could literally have anyone in the club.

His eyes and attention have never once turned away from Stiles.

He isn’t super insecure, which surprises most people. Stiles isn’t stupid. He knows exactly what parts of himself to change if he wants more popularity. More friends. But he likes himself just like he likes his fashion.

Whatever small insecurities he might have are washed away in Derek’s unwavering attention. Because Derek could have anyone and the only person he wants is Stiles. It’s exhilarating.

It also helps that he’s noticed that, yes, he is attractive to gay guys. Maybe not all of them. But enough. He’s seen a few hands reach out to grope him only to be stopped by Derek’s glare. Seen the lingering looks.

He only wants Derek.

He closes his eyes for a moment and loses himself to the music. Hips swaying to the beat and he feels hands grab onto them. Feels the flush of Derek’s hot body against him. Derek might not be a great dancer but he seems to know how to move with Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t feel confined at all. Arms still flailing. Derek sways in and out to run a hand down his side. Kiss his neck.

They’re in sync, moving in harmony. It teases Stiles with the idea that it’ll be like this when they have sex.

He has no idea how long they’ve been dancing. It feels like forever. Like they just started.

He doesn’t want this moment to end.

Derek has moved behind him. That strong, muscular chest pressed to his back. Beard scratching at his neck. A hot mouth sucking what’ll be a giant hickey. He leans in and growls into Stiles’ ear, “If only you could smell yourself right now. You smell like you could be mine. Like you want to be mine. Can I have you, Stiles? Please?”

It’s that growled please that convinces Stiles. So he nods and Derek’s pulling him out of the club. They’re getting into a cab and going to Derek’s hotel room. Considering that Derek lives in a derelict warehouse it’s a really nice room in an expensive hotel.

They’re sweaty and gross from the dancing but the way that Derek can’t stop scenting him discourages Stiles from saying they should clean up. He doesn’t care. He likes the way Derek smells too.

It’s hot and heavy kisses. Grinding hips. The scratch texture of Derek’s chest hair. Unbelievable attention paid to his sensitive nipples. Heavy weight of Derek’s cock in his mouth. Hot, wet feeling of his in Derek’s.

After he watches as Derek rubs his come into his skin, “This is a werewolf thing, isn’t it?”

Derek’s eyes just start glowing crimson and Stiles sighs in contentment. He can’t deny that he likes it. Likes feeling like Derek is claiming him. Making it clear to wolves everywhere that Stiles belongs to him.

A part of him is aware that maybe it’s not healthy. At least not for humans. But he’s wanted to belong for so long. To feel like he has a place.

Once Derek is satisfied, he rolls Stiles over and spoons him. It’s been a long day and Stiles feels so safe.

It isn’t long before he drifts off.

Stiles isn’t sure what he expected in the morning. Maybe for Derek to return to being his more angry, aggressive self. For there to be awkwardness and maybe regrets.

Anything but this comfortable ease. Slowly waking up and finding Derek already awake and watching him. Since Derek is a giant creeper. But before he can even joke about it, Derek is lightly touching his face. It’s almost reverent. Like Derek can’t believe that Stiles is here with him. Derek’s eyes are beautiful and soft.

Stiles, for the first time in his life, doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t want to break the silence. He’s hated silence ever since his mom died and his dad disappeared into a bottle. It was when his babbling turned almost manic.

This is okay, though. It’s good.

Stepping into the real world doesn’t pop the bubble. They eat breakfast and Stiles does start talking then. The big difference is that Derek is talking back. They are having a real conversation. They did yesterday too but it feels… more significant now. Like maybe this is something Stiles gets to keep.

Eventually, they have to part ways. They each drove separately. Derek gives him a long, lingering (but so very sweet) kiss.

Stiles feels like a different person as he leaves San Francisco.

Not because of Derek. That was more like a bonus. No, something changed and shifted during the parade. He’d never really understood the point of Pride. Or why he should be proud. Being queer is like having brown eyes. Why be proud?

Except it isn’t like having brown eyes at all.

He wasn’t in the closet before, not really.

But he’s had a taste of freedom. He’ll happily wear his pride on his sleeve.

Shattering

Stiles gets home in the late afternoon. He’s filthy since he hadn’t showered in the morning, even though they’d had sex again.

It wasn’t just for Derek who thought he smelled wonderful. Stiles is enjoying the way it feels to be so thoroughly debauched. It’s gross and shouldn’t be as satisfying as it is.

He does want a shower now. Is looking forward to it.

He hadn’t let himself think about the fact that his father will be pissed if he noticed that Stiles was gone. He probably has. Stiles can usually get away with a lot because his dad works so much but since the lacrosse game, he’s been paying more attention. Not spending more time with Stiles but paying more attention.

So, of course, he’s home when Stiles gets back.

“Where have you been?” is his dad’s angry greeting when he gets inside.

“I went to Pride in San Francisco,” Stiles says. Not feeling the least apologetic.

His dad looks suspicious, “I hate that I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth. Are those bruises or hickeys?”

Stiles sighs because he really does want a shower but isn’t getting out of this conversation any time soon, “Hickeys.”

“So you’re telling me that you went to San Francisco, overnight, without telling me? And you had sex?” His dad’s voice is still hard and angry.

“Why would I tell you? You didn’t believe me when I said I was gay. Not dressed like this,” Stiles gestures to his plaid overshirt.

His dad’s anger cracks for the first time, “Son, I didn’t think you were being serious. I thought you were just trying to get out of trouble.”

“That doesn’t change how much it hurt,” Stiles responds.

“Okay. Just so I’m clear, that was you coming out for real? You’re gay?” His dad says.

Stiles shrugs, “I prefer queer.”

“Christ. You do like to make things difficult,” his dad sighs.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Stiles demands, feeling angry for the first time.

“You already know how people treat people who’re different. I worry about your safety. Life is going to be harder for you,” his dad says.

“You know, I’ve seen movies and read books where parents say shit like this to their kids. It never made sense to me. Still doesn’t. You’re basically saying that my life will be harder, be worse because I’m queer. That my queerness will cause unhappiness. That it’d be easier if I were straight,” Stiles angrily replies.

“No, no. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just… You can’t get married. It’s harder for gay couples to adopt. Marrying your mom and having you are the best things to happen to me,” his dad tries to explain.

Stiles scoffs, “Yeah. That explanation doesn’t help as much as you think it does. Don’t assume that I need or want the same things as you to be happy. Queer relationships aren’t less if they don’t involve marriage or kids. You know what I realized at Pride? That being queer frees me from those sorts of things. I can make up my own rules. Make my own path to happiness. I’m free and anything is possible.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m trying to adjust. Give me a little time,” his dad pleas.

Stiles looks at his dad for a long moment, “No.”

His dad is stunned, “No? You won’t give me time to adjust?”

Stiles shakes his head, “No. I won’t. You lost your chance to be the good, supportive dad when you threw gay stereotypes in my face. Whatever chance you had to recover died with the garbage you just tried to put on me. You shouldn’t need to ‘adjust’ to loving me as I am. All that should’ve mattered is that I’m your son and you love me. Something you still haven’t said. So, no, you don’t get time. I need a shower,” Stiles turns to go upstairs.

“Now, hold on. Fine. You won’t forgive or forget this mistake. I’m still your father. And you went off without asking and had sex. Who was this guy? How old was he? Because you’re still underage,” his dad’s voice is stern with authority again.

“I’m not telling you anything about my sex life,” Stiles says, “It’s none of your business.”

“As your dad and the sheriff, it’s my business if it was statutory rape,” his dad counters.

Stiles waves this away, “It’s really not. I’m also not getting into a discussion about the arbitrariness of the age of consent laws. I’m not actually a child. I hadn’t been drinking. I was fully capable of giving consent. I know for a fact that you don’t fine or arrest every infraction, so you don’t believe in slavishly adhering to the letter of the law. Don’t start being a hypocrite now, about this, and lose even more of my respect.”

He does leave and go upstairs to take a shower.

He’s surprised to find that the confrontation with his dad hasn’t ruined his day. He still feels elated and free.

Maybe because he’s never stood up to his father like that. Usually he’s all about babbling and deflection. About ignoring problems and hoping they go away.

Stiles feels like he’s found himself. Like he’s taken an important step towards really growing up.

Because he’s less concerned about pleasing his dad. Less concerned about having his approval. He wasn’t lying when he said that his dad’s initial reaction to Stiles coming out had broken something important between them. Same with his dad’s reaction today, when he finally understood that Stiles was serious about being queer.

Maybe he should be more flexible and forgiving. But that isn’t really his way. Stiles is known for being pretty uncompromising. And it’s something he won’t do, even for his dad.

Not when this has allowed him to take a step back and look at their relationship without the hero worship and desperate need to cling to his remaining parent.

He loves his dad. He always will.

But he needs to let go. Let go of his childish need for approval. Let go of his desire for his dad to pay attention to him, something he stopped doing after his mom died. First losing himself to the bottle and then to his job. Let go of all the things he does to take care of his dad, since that care isn’t returned. Stop clinging so hard to a dad that only exists in his imagination.

Stiles deserves more. Deserves better.

He’s here. And he’s queer.

He won’t accept anything less.

Negotiations

Stiles wasn’t sure where he and Derek stood. They hadn’t really talked about what would happen when they returned to Beacon Hills. Both of them kind of wanting to just live in that bubble.

Live in the moment.

It’s only been a few days and Stiles figures if he kept to his usual patterns of behaviour he could probably ignore this for weeks. Except that would mean weeks of angsting – brooding! – over the whole situation. Probably heaps of pinning.

He doesn’t want to do that.

Not even a little.

Ignoring his problems only led to a lot of emotional turmoil and he doesn’t want to do that anymore. He wants to embrace the change he’d experienced at Pride.

So he takes a deep breath and texts Derek. hey. so… what happened didn’t feel like a one night stand. i kinda don’t want it to be. i know it’ll be complicated. but… i’m already pack, right? we can figure it out.

Stiles didn’t have to wait long for a reply, Stiles. I was giving you some time to think. I’ve never been with someone I trusted and knew what I am. I wouldn’t have spent the night with you if I only wanted a one night stand. I can come over to talk, if you want.

Stiles: maybe… texting for now? being brave is new to me. it’s easier doing this if i don’t have to look in your eyes. also you seem to talk more this way.

Derek: You’ve always been brave. I’m trying. For you.

Stiles is touched. More than anything else, this reassures him that this is real. Derek Hale is trying. For him. Trying to talk. To communicate. Something he’s historically been terrible at.

Stiles: wow. dude. you’re doing great. i meant brave about my feelings. idk why charging in to face down peter was easier than talking about my feelings. for you. but it is.

Derek: You’re doing great.

Stiles: i can’t believe that i actually like that you’re kind of a snarky asshole. i might not have ever said it but i like that you always tell the truth, no matter how harsh. like maybe you could soften your delivery but i don’t think i’ve ever worried that you’d lie to me. maybe you don’t share everything. but you don’t lie. even when it’d make things easier for you.

Derek: I also can’t believe you like that. Most people only want the face and body. Not the personality.

Stiles: i can see that. okay. so… how do you want to do this? boyfriends? just dating?

Derek: Ideally, mates. But we can do it the human way for now. Boyfriends is fine.

Stiles: the way you say ‘mates’ seems important. but cool. i have a boyfriend! um, how open do you want to be? i’d prefer not hiding. not even from my dad.

Derek: The betas will know because you smell like mine. Mates are important. It’s more than marriage. More permanent, anyway. And whatever you’re comfortable with. I’d proudly stand with you in public.

Stiles: you want that? already? that seems quick.

Derek: Wolves get attached quickly. You saw how Scott was with Allison. Instinct plays an important role. Tells us who’d be compatible. But you’re human. I’m happy to wait until you catch up.

Stiles: shit. i wonder what it says about scott that his instincts say he’s compatible with a trash-heap like allison. well, i don’t have to wonder, do i? not after what he did to you. i’ll, ah, keep that in mind. i don’t think it’ll take me long to catch up. you’re kinda awesome, big guy. i feel like i should know more about what it means to date a wolf. esp. regarding the instincts. esp. because you’re a born wolf and alpha. i don’t want to mess this up.

Derek: I’m already feeling territorial. Possessive. I’ve seen enough human media to know that the level I’m feeling would be a red flag in a human relationship. When I say you’re ‘mine’, it doesn’t mean you’re my property. I don’t own you. It doesn’t feel that way. I don’t want to isolate you from other people. Scent plays an important role. I think it’ll be fine as long as you don’t smell too strongly like strangers. Brief hugs should be fine. But nothing more than that, unless it’s with a pack member. Nothing that would leave a strong scent on you. And… you don’t have to do this, but could you use fragrance-free products? I hate how artificial fragrances muddle your scent.

Stiles: that isn’t too bad. i don’t mind switching. after the years of… absence and distance with my dad, i think it’ll be refreshing to have someone in my life who cares to know where i am and what i’m doing. for me, that’s the real deal-breaker. don’t close yourself off. or shut me out. if you need space, tell me. i know i haven’t been great with that in the past but if you’ll work on communicating, i’ll damn well work on the boundaries thing. you’ve had enough people crossing yours to last a lifetime.

Derek: Stiles. Yes. This is why I want to mate with you. Can I come over now? Or will you come over? I want to smell you. Want to hold you. To know that this is real. That you’re real.

Stiles: shit, sourwolf. the stuff you say kills me. i’m on my way.

When Stiles gets to the loft, he sees that the pack is already there. He doesn’t really care because all he can think about is Derek.

Derek seems to be on the same page because he has Stiles in his arms and against a wall within seconds. Just breathing him in.

Normally Stiles would find this erotic. Be getting turned on. He’s had several fantasies that start this way but he’s too overwhelmed with emotions. Overwhelmed with the feel and smell of Derek. He wraps his legs around Derek’s waist because he knows Derek can handle it.

That he’s strong and can hold him for hours.

Maybe the weirdest thing is the way the betas don’t say anything. They just go on with their evening. Like their alpha isn’t pining a classmate to the wall. Like Derek doesn’t carry him off to his bed where they proceed to cuddle and trade soft kisses.

They don’t mention it in the morning.

Given their previous behaviour, he’d expected them to be shits about it. To tease him or Derek.

They don’t. There’re smiles. Like they’re responding to Derek’s happy vibes. And Stiles thinks maybe that’s exactly what’s happening.

He’s part of the pack now. He’s pretty sure he can feel a general, background sense of contentment. It isn’t his because he feels buoyant with joy.

Stiles will need to ask Derek about this. Get a better understanding about the pack and his place in it.

For now, he’s happy.

Shit is still complicated. They have more to work out. He has ‘issues’ to deal with. The time in the Argent’s basement has left a mark and he isn’t even close to finished dealing with the fallout from that. Or the other shit.

Everything is different and, for once, it fills him with hope.

Because he isn’t alone. Because he belongs here. Because Derek looks at him with hope in his eyes.

He feels free and like the possibilities are endless.