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Chapter Text

Derek knows that he got off easy with Laura and the effortless success of her season. He knew that Cora would be the real trial, yet, he still somehow underestimated just how tiresome she would be.

Laura was tiresome as she was wanted by so many-she was the diamond of the season after all-and he had to fend off one idiot after the other. Even his own good friend who ended up marrying her despite Derek’s concerns about such a match. But, despite his pessimism, the match ended up being perfect, and now Laura is happier than he’s seen her in years. A proud mother of one and probably many more in the years to come. Derek can admit when he was wrong, even if it pains him to do so, despite what his siblings say.

Cora on the other hand will be increasingly stressful in another matter entirely; her pure reluctance to take place in the season in its entirety. The moment Laura departed with Jordan, Cora tried every trick in the book to escape her fate; to escape this season. Derek wishes he could let her escape-it’s not like he enjoys parading his sisters around like cattle, regardless of their secondary gender-but you can’t run from propriety, especially when you’re a Hale.

With another sigh, Derek looks at his pocket watch, the seconds tick by informing him just close they are to being late, and he contemplates letting Cora skip it after all.

“I just think that maybe-”

“No, no, no,” Issac cuts him off, even shushing him for the full effect. “Liam, all of you, lower your voices!” Issac is almost always right, especially when it comes to all things Cora, but they’re late and Derek is not going to have his sister be late to meet the King.

“Just let her come out on her own,” his mother hisses at him yet again. Derek opens his mouth to argue why they cannot wait when he sees a radiant Laura rushing down the hall.

“Is this the plan? Just gossip around her door until she comes blazing out,” Laura scoffs.

“She has requested time, more and more time, that’s it,” Derek informs his sister who looks as annoyed as he is.

“We do not have time, get out of my way,” Laura nudges him aside to reach for the handle but Issac is quick enough to drag her hand away.

“No offense dear sister, but I believe you are the last person she would like to see,” Issac says, placing his body between Laura and Cora’s room.

This sets the youngest siblings into a quarrel about whether Cora is even in there. Liam guesses she jumped from her window while Malia tells him how Cora definitely shimmed down the side of the building and is already in another country by now. Even Issac partakes, suggesting a chimney escape.

“I can’t believe I left my child and husband for this,” Laura grumbles to an exhausted Derek.

“That’s it, I’m going in there,” a cacophony of protests emerge as Derek reaches for the handle of Cora’s room, only for it to swing open moments before he makes contact.

Three maids nearly mow Derek over in their eagerness to escape whatever awaits them. His siblings are miraculously quiet for once, all tense for whatever state Cora will be in, and eager for it all the same. A few moments of silence follow the last maid until Cora stomps into view with her feather headpiece and classic gown. If not for her makeup, Derek is sure that she’d be a vibrant red, but despite her thunderous expression, Cora looks lovely.

Derek opens his mouth to tell her so but is cut off by the woman herself, “Not a single word, from any of you,” Cora hisses at their group. Derek raises his hands in defense, stepping away from his siblings and giving Cora her space. “Let’s get this over with.” Cora yanks her train to her side and marches past Derek and the family to finally get into the carriage.

“You heard the lady,” he starts, “Go everyone, hurry, or we’ll be late.”

With that, the ladies of the family rush after Cora to get into the carriage beside her while Issac and Liam join his. Derek can only imagine the chaos that is the ladies' carriage as they race toward the king and the opening of the season. Laura has been blissfully absent for Cora’s meltdowns but he can imagine how ‘helpful’ she’s trying to be for Cora despite Cora wanting to know nothing of the sort.

“So, brother,” Derek turns his eyes to Issac, “Are you still certain you wish to partake in this year’s season?” Derek smiles at his brother’s delicate tone and questions.

“Yes, brother I am. If Parrish can survive it then surely, so can I. I mean, how difficult can it truly be?” Issac and Liam share an exasperated look at his reply, even smirking at one another at his dismissal. “I’m not going for feelings or love, you know this brother, I just need a partner who compliments my list.”

“Your list,” Issac echoes.

“Yes. I just need someone who is tolerable, dutiful, has suitable enough hips for childbirth, and at least half a brain.” Issac looks mortified by his list while Liam looks lost and confused, not following Derek’s situation fully at his young age. “Well, the last one is actually a preference, not a requirement, but I would greatly prefer at least half a brain.”

“So I guess that eliminates any male prospects then?” Derek thinks this over for a moment, wondering if he should re-evaluate his list.

“Not entirely, with Laura already having a child, a son at that, I guess I don’t need to provide heirs…” Liam giggles at his turmoil, always somehow amused by Derek and his duties.

“Well, the list remains, however, suitable hips aren’t a requirement.” He nods to himself, content with this decision, and ready once more to brave the season. Issac nods along with him, avoiding a response by giving him a pitying smile. Issac is a poet and true romantic even at his young age so he will never understand Derek or how Derek’s mind works.

- - - - - - — - - - - -

Derek quickly finds himself and his siblings a spot alongside the royal carpet awaiting their sister with bated breath. Focusing on his hearing, Derek eavesdrops on Cora and his mother, listening to her sister beg for an escape to no avail until finally, it’s time.

“The Dowager Viscountess Hale and Miss Cora Hale,” a footman calls out to the eager citizens.

Derek turns his gaze to the double doors where his mother and sister stand, waiting to approach. Cora reeks of anxiety even from where he stands, his mother visibly pales at her child’s distress. Cora sways a little, her heart slamming into her rib cage and pounding into Derek’s own head, his anxiety growing the longer she hesitates.

Cora takes one step, then two, a grimace twisting her face more and more the longer the King stares her down. Derek winces at his sister’s state and the fact that he cannot help her or ease her discomfort no matter how frantic she is for rescue. How desperately Derek wishes he can move to her other side and escort her down the aisle.

As Cora hesitates even longer between one step and the next, a servant rushes into the room bearing a pamphlet on a gold tray for the king. His Majesty, King Bobby of Finstock, guffaws at the pamphlet and lunges off of his throne dismissing everyone.

“Does this mean I can go,” Cora whispers to her mother. Talia looks as lost and confused as the rest of the king’s patrons, not able to give Cora a proper answer. Cora takes their mother’s confusion as permission to leave, turning onto her toes and sprinting away from the room.

Laura steps forward to call their sister back with a firm call of her name. Derek watches his sister flee whilst his other sighs once more and settles beside him again. The room is a flurry of gossip; the First letter of the season from Lady Whistledown has been procured.

“Well, I can definitely say that I will not miss any of this, however,” Laura turns to look him in the eyes with a giddy expression, “I wish you the best of luck brother. I have a feeling you will need it.”

Only the public eyes and his location save Derek from sticking out his tongue as his sister’s smirk.

Chapter Text

Even from his study, Derek can hear how poorly Cora’s dance lessons are going. Liam complains nearly every minute about being her partner while an amused Issac watches most likely from his spot on the couch that he always prefers. Malia critiques her every turn and Theo joins her despite being on the pianoforte. Derek rises, thinking now is better than ever to speak with his mother, and save Cora while he can.

Raising from his desk and the swarm of papers, Derek leaves his study to greet his family in the sitting room, Cora exhaling in relief at his appearance. Derek has a soft spot for Cora and her plight that he can never resist.

“Apparently our dear brother Jackson has added yet another stop on his gallivanting around the globe, Albania of all places,” Derek says.

“How lucky he is to simply gallivant around the globe on a whim,” Cora growls between steps. “I’m done.” Talia looks between Cora and Derek realizing his timing was intentional and lets Cora find a seat beside her sister.

“Will you be joining us for tea?” Derek looks at his mother and her hopeful expression. She’s always so happy to see him and be with him as if he isn’t a complete disgrace to their father’s name, a phony standing where he once stood.

“Uh, no,” Derek looks away to avoid his mother’s sad gaze. “I have to attend to some matters of our property. I also need you to oversee our increase in help around the house with the season starting and when you have a moment I will need your ring.” Talia nearly trips over the couch at the last remark but Derek ignores her in favor of finishing his thoughts.

“We will also need to decide if we’ll be visiting the country at all so I can have the grounds worked after the winter frosting and-”

“I beg your pardon,” Talia chokes out, interrupting his speech. Derek stops to look back at his mother once again gleaming with joy.

“The frost, killed some of the garden flowers so I’ll need to inform the workers to begin fixing them right away if we intend on visiting,” Derek speaks slowly this time, enunciating carefully to his mother who rolls her eyes at his reply.

“Not the frost Derek, do you really think I am so dim? I meant my ring, of course, you mentioned my ring,” Talia huffs at his confusion but smiles at him all the same.

“Yes, father’s betrothal ring,” he replies confused by the elation on his mother’s face.

“Did someone catch your eye at the presentation brother?” Issac himself looks far too giddy at this thought, smirking at Derek from his reclined position on the couch.

“All the young ladies looked beautiful at the presentation,” Malia adds with a vicious smirk to Derek.

“All the young ladies looked like ladies, all the young men looked like men, they all look the same,” Derek sighs at his sibling’s pestering. “No one caught my eye I simply want to be prepared for the opportunity when it presents itself.”

Talia’s joy falls flat at his response, her fists clenching at his nonchalance, “The opportunity?”

“Yes, I’ve already compiled a list of possible candidates and have scheduled interviews-”

“Interviews,” Talia chuckles at the word, her laughter stopping at the lack of joking in his demeanor. Derek quirks a brow at his brother, a warning to show that he is, in fact, not joking in the slightest.

“Right, well, my dear, I shall be more than happy to give you my ring when you find someone with whom you are completely and utterly in love.” Derek eyes his mother warily, having expected more interrogating on the matter, or more complaints.

“Very well,” Derek says, turning to make his leave when he hears his mother whisper to Issac to keep an eye on him.

“I do not need a coddling mother, I can assure you I am quite well,” She narrows her eyes at his reply, obviously not believing him. “Perhaps we should remember not to whisper about a werewolf when the werewolf is still in the room,” he teases and excuses himself for the day.

Derek takes Issac’s previous remarks in regard to male suitors quite seriously. The more he considers his brother’s words, the more appealing a male partner becomes. Derek knows he won’t live to old age, to live longer than his father is not possible, and he’d feel more tolerable leaving a partner behind rather than children without a father as his father left them. So he reevaluates his list and meets with women and men of varying status to interview.

Adding both genders also increases his odds of finding someone that is tolerable at the very least.

He’s been told that he can be intense but this is not something to take lightly. Whoever he marries will be the Viscountess and that is not a title for just anyone-Lycan and human alike, Derek is many things and specisit is not one of them-and he must be thorough in his endeavors. So he trudges though his list, interviewing one candidate after another, asking them about their expectations of children and how to deal with an overspending family member one must speak with. Not a single candidate leaves Derek feeling confident.

Holding a glass of brandy despite not being able to get drunk, Derek gives his footman instructions and requests his latest bills and tendings.

“Please look into hiring a new lady’s maid for Cora, the more stubborn the better,” Derek collapses at his desk with a sigh to see a mountain of papers waiting for him. “What are all of these?”

“They’re accounts requiring your signature, my lord,” his footman answers looking nervous at Derek’s furrowed brow. He dismisses the man and works late into the night on the papers.

The days follow the same pattern. Derek checks on his accounts, attends interviews, and sorts more papers with the occasional partner to accompany his nights. Then the next day will follow the exact same as he waits till the first ball of the season.

It’s redundant and frustrating, each interview ending worse than the one prior, yet Derek still follows the pattern every single day. There are many days and matters which cause Derek to loathe his status in life as the eldest Hale son and these days are many of them.

Exhausted from the dreariness his days have morphed into, Derek is desperate for a break in routine, so he takes his horse out at dawn to clear his mind. He maintains a slow pace, scanning the park around him and inhaling the sweet morning air. Lycans can’t technically get headaches but Derek’s last few days would beg to differ and the morning air does wonders for his frustration. So he meanders through the park in solitude until the incredible smell of lilies snaps his focus away from the morning air.

Another horse enters the park, its thundering hooves drawing closer to Derek along with the smell of a lone omega flooding his nostrils with no chaperone in sight.

“Are you in trouble,” Derek calls out to the rider who races past him without a word. Derek waits a few moments, scenting the air for guidance. A waft of anxiety comes drifting off the rider and towards Derek giving him an answer enough. “Come now,” Derek orders his horse.

The omega’s cape flairs around their frame, the hood barely holding on with the accelerated speeds. Derek digs into his horse more, rushing towards the omega whose heart pounds and scent increases the longer he chases. With each cut and turn the omega remains on the horse with confidence, Derek even catches the soft giggles the omega makes in his failure to catch up. On another straight Derek begins to gain on the omega when they head straight for a line of hedges nearly five feet tall.

“Whoa there,” Derek yells to the stranger. The rider speeds up rather than pause sending Derek’s heart thundering in response. “Careful there!”

More laughter answers him as the strange rider gains speed and effortlessly leaps the hedges ahead. Derek tugs his steed’s reins to a halt just beside the hedges, watching the omega slow to a trot and turn towards him. A slender and pale hand removes the reins to slide off their hood. A Young man smirks at Derek and his fading distress, his freckled face quirked with amusement, and his scent blossoming with joy.

Derek tilts his chin to the man, admitting defeat when due, and admiring the gorgeous rider from afar. The man tilts his chin up rather than down in greeting. Derek feels a smile creep onto his face unwillingly at the man’s pride. As desperate as he is to know who the man is, he is far too late to leap the hedge, instead forcing his horse aside where he knows the park will loop around.

Just as Derek predicted, the rider took the loop that curved back towards Derek’s path allowing him to sneak up on the omega.

“Enjoying your victory lap,” Derek watches the omega jump at his approach- a human Omega then-and says something in a language he doesn’t recognize.

“Perhaps we should try it without the head start next time.” The omega refuses to look at him, gazing around the park at anything and everything, probably for witnesses. Derek takes the time to observe the omega human further, the freckles that vanish down his neck, and the way the morning sun ignites his amber eyes. He's truly breathtaking. 

“My apologies sir, I did not mean to concern you or anyone else,” his words sound genuine but the tilt of his lips betrayed him.

“Does your maid know you are out riding,” Derek replies.

“I do not have a maid sir.” The omega’s tone is rigid obviously not liking his question.

“Then you’re married,” the omega stops his horse for the sole purpose of glaring at Derek.

“That was impolite, forgive me,” Derek smiles at the omega’s nod. “Then you must be lost.” A sigh, a true exasperated and frustrated sigh leaves the omega’s lips at his questioning.

“No sir, I am not lost, I am headed back to Mayfair, it is just ahead.” Derek frowns at the information but nods along. “So perhaps we should part ways sir and pretend this never happened. I can assure you I am perfectly safe and need no guidance from strange men who ask me too many questions in the park at dawn.”

Fighting a chuckle, Derek replies, “I shall not tell a soul.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I can’t imagine what I’d tell others. How to explain losing a race to an omega in the park at dawn? The questions I’d be asked,” Derek teases.

“Does one not need actual competition for it to be a race,” the omega replies with a spark in his eyes. Derek stumbles over the response, not expecting the omega to tease back, especially so proficiently. It surprises Derek just how much he enjoys the back and forth and the omegas fiery personality.

“Perhaps if we had a set finish line or had I known I would be racing…”

“Not one for losing I see,” the omega tsks.

Derek’s brain stops at the comment and then pivots into overdrive in an attempt to understand the man before him. The omega’s smirk turns into a grin that lights up his entire face with beauty, incapacitating Derek entirely.

“Yes, well, when I do lose, on the rare occasion,” the omega snorts at this statement drawing another grin from him. “I have no qualms with admitting I am wrong, unlike you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mayfair is not straight ahead, it’s the opposite direction. Not lost you said?” The man flounders at his remark, flicking his gaze in front then behind him, landing on a couple of riders up ahead through another thicket of trees. Another phrase in a language Derek doesn’t know pours from the omega’s ridiculously pink lips as he turns his horse back the other way.

“Good day sir,” he mutters, his horse already trotting the other way.

“But we have not yet been introduced,” Derek calls to the retreating form.

“No time I’m afraid, not when I have a victory lap to enjoy!” Another giggle reaches Derek’s ears making him grin once again. Derek can’t remember a morning or a day he smiled so much out of genuine delight and not just propriety.

Derek remains where he is until the rider is completely out of sight and hearing range, the scent of lilies still lingering in the air where the omega once was.

Chapter Text

Stiles is late, far later than high society will accept, but he hopes Lady Morrell won’t know where he’s been. It was worth it in the end he thinks as he rushes to the sitting room where he knows his mother and brother await. 

“My apologies,” Stiles gasps upon entering.

“Stiles,” Scott bursts, his grin growing at the sight of him.

“My dearest apologies, I was craving some fresh air after the long journey and your gardens are so beautiful, I simply lost track of time,” Stiles greets the lady, mentally praying that his pants aren’t coated in mud.

“My eldest, Lady Morrell, Omega Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” Lady Morrell raises an amused brow at the name. “Usually, we introduce him as Omega Stilinski to prevent others from attempting his name,” Melissa explains.

Morrell nods in understanding and gestures to the table, “Well, now that we’re all here-” Mischief, his beagle, chooses then to make an appearance. Stiles giggles at his companion, sweeping Mischief into his arms and agreeing to breakfast.

“Is it true you host the first ball of the year Lady Morrell,” Scott asks from beside him. Lady Morrell smiles at him, radiating affection, Stiles has no doubt she will dote on him incessantly. Her and everyone else he’s sure.

“Indeed, Beta Stilinski,” Morrell muses, “I have obtained a conservatory this year for the ball.” Scott’s dopey grin nearly doubles at the news and Stiles can’t help chuckling at his brother’s excitement.

“It will make for the most spectacular entrance into society I believe,” Melissa adds to Scott’s joy. “But is it true, Lady Morrell, that the King will be in attendance?” To her credit, Lady Morrell picks up on Melissa’s nerves exceptionally well and is quick to ease her discomfort over the king.

“Indeed, Lady Melissa, I would’ve presented your sons to the king directly but I wanted to meet them first,” Melissa stares into her tea and the mention of introduction. “You have nothing to fear, after all, you’ll all be with me.” Melissa sends a weak smile to Lady Morrell and remains silent.

“Now, dance lessons are at noon, you’ll practice your French and Latin with me, the pianoforte has been tuned, and all other instructors have been hired.” Stiles tries to hide his discomfort at the Lady’s notion but a stern look from Melissa tells him he failed. “Well, stand up, let me take a look at you.”

Smothering a groan, Stiles raises with Mischief, placing the pup in Melissa’s arms, and stands beside his brother. Lady Morrell paces before them in thought, her gaze looking for any and all flaws they might obtain. Stiles sneaks a hand down to give Scott a reassuring squeeze that Lady Morrell catches with a quirked brow.

“Well, excellent posture, both of you,” Lady Morrell meets his stare, “Beautiful smiles as well.” Stiles is smirking and has been the entire time but he has a sneaking suspicion that the Lady is aware of this. “Though I do worry about your eldest son being of solely human lineage-” Stiles may be a human Omega in a line of all humans but it doesn’t discredit his character.

“I can assure you Lady Morrell that is of no concern for I am not here to find a partner for myself, only for my brother who does stand quite tall and has a lovely smile, with or without his fangs” Stiles watches as Lady Morrell grows more surprised by his every word. “He also speaks French quite well, I’d know since I taught him,” Stiles nods for Scott to say something.

His brother compliments Lady Morrell in French, her Ladyship giving Scott another fond grin, while Stiles beams with pride.

“He is also quite adept with Latin and Greek, I’m teaching him Polish but that is slow going, and he plays the pianoforte beautifully.” Lady Morrell eyes Stiles with a look he knows far too well; annoyance. “While I play the Devil’s Fiddle, I didn’t think it’d be appropriate to teach Scott that as well.”

“And dancing,” Morrell asks with an exasperated expression.

“Oh yes, I’d say his dancing is quite exceptional, as I did teach him the cotillion, the quadrille, and the waltz.” Lady Morrell humphs at his confidence.

Stiles narrows his gaze, ready to rip her holier than thou a new one, and Melissa the kind woman she is intervenes, “Stiles is very passionate about his brother’s accomplishments and his prospects for the season. He is quite proud.” He knows the last bit is a warning for him, to stop being so on edge and trust this woman to help his brother. Stiles doesn’t like trusting the wealthy.

“I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble obtaining all the tutors, Lady Morrell,” She waves a hand to reassure him, “We are most grateful for your kindness and guidance this season.”

“Stiles, perhaps you should take Mischief for a walk?” Stiles knows a dismissal when he sees one.

“Of course mother, Lady Morrell we are delighted to make your acquaintance, we are very excited about your sponsorship this season.” Lady Morell hums at him in response eyeing him with an air of annoyance that Stiles can’t be bothered by. So Stiles makes himself scarce for the rest of the day only returning to his room when it is time to prepare for the ball.

That’s where Scott finds him, in front of the mirror with a jacket set raised to his chest, “Are you thinking of wearing that one,” Scott asks from the door. Stiles laughs at his brother’s excitement and shakes his head.

“No, it’s for you, we’re here for you, not me.” Scott takes the clothes with a grin.

“Right, I forgot you are too human, all hope is lost for you dear brother.” Stiles gives his brother a shove that has no effect on him and his strength, stupid werewolves.

“I’m worried about mother…all the gossip from fleeing England,” Scott trails off.

“That was many years ago, and she fled because she had to, not to mention she met father who I believe is quite the upgrade,” Scott giggles at his remark.

“People will still have questions, especially about you and me, how we’re related! We don’t even look alike and I’m Lycan and you’re human-”

“There are plenty of households that bear Lycan and human children Scott, like you and mother. We are brothers nothing can change that, not even the gossiping herds of the London ton.”

With a shakey exhale, Scott rests his forehead onto Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles is also worried, about people and their invasive questions, but that’s why they have Lady Morrell. Lady Morrell and her reputation are supposed to protect them. Stiles can only hope that she will truly do that much.

“Now stop your fretting and be excited," Stiles whispers into his brother’s hair. “This is the beginning of your happily ever after. All you have to do is remember what you are looking for.”

Scott raises from his shoulder to meet his eye, “Someone charming and attractive of course, perhaps a duke?” Stiles tsks at his brother’s approach.

“You are looking for someone whose character speaks to your heart. Who truly sees you. That is what you are looking for.” Stiles feels Scott’s gaze burning onto him so he raises his eyes to meet his brothers. Scott looks sad, but not for himself or his nerves, but for Stiles. His eyes are full of raw concern and pity for Stiles. Stiles hates pity for himself, no one should waste such emotions on him. 

“You deserve it too. You know that, don’t you?” The entrance of the servants saves him from responding.

Stiles rushes to pick up the outfit for his brother, looking between them and his brother, “Come, let's wow with your handsomeness.”

As quickly as the pity fell onto his brother’s face it disappears. Scott rushes over to him and allows the servants to begin his dressings for the ball. Stiles excuses himself to go dress himself while his brother is being cared for.

- - - - - - - - - - -

There is, of course, another unknown identity at present. Though this one you will be able to unearth.

I speak of the season’s diamond, wherever they may be. Your move, Your Majesty.

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 1 (9m40s)

Chapter Text

Stiles won’t bother denying the splendor that is the conservatory. Scott is nearly vibrating with excitement while Stiles is beginning to feel the pressure of their success weighing him down. Couples are twirling across the floor underneath cascading bouquets of flowers of all sizes and colors and Stiles is lost in the floral wonderland.

“Omega Stiles, I was thinking the Lord of Suffolk would be a good addition to your dance card tonight,” Lady Morrell suggests.

Stiles fights the eye roll demanding to take over and turns to the Lady with a smile, “I assure you, Your Ladyship, I have no intention of taking the floor tonight, I am here strictly for my brother.”Morrell scans him with a look he can’t decipher but drops the subject with a nod to scan the room instead.

“Ah, there he is, come with me,” Stiles follows her gaze to see the king himself strutting into the ball. The king is wearing a teal set with a powder wig nearly two feet tall. To Stiles he looks ridiculous, but what does Stiles know of English fashion or the king?

“Lady Morrell, quite the ball, as expected of you,” King Bobby grins at their approaching group. “However, I do think that my own will be much more…exclusive.”

Compose your face Stiles, compose your face. His mental mantra is on a loop within his head in a desperate attempt to appear pleasant.

“I would not dare to compare, Your Majesty,” a smug grin takes over the king’s face at Morrell’s response. “Your Majesty, if I may present to you, Lady Melissa Stilinski,” Melissa bows to the queen, “and her sons, Omege Stilinski and Lycan Beta, Scott Stilinski, my special guests for this season.”

“How quaint is it to see you again Lady Melissa, I hear you made quite the journey to join us this season.” Stiles waits with bated breath, “If only you had extended a farewell visit to your king when you departed.” Just like that, the king sashays away from them and further into the ball.

Stiles wants to yell, say every curse word he knows to the king, yell and make sure the king knows just how desperate Melissa was to escape England and why. Scott clasps his arm with an iron grip at the king’s remark, his anxiety is probably skyrocketing. Lady Morrell on the other hand sees amused by the dismissal.

“Do not fret, for I do love a challenge,” Lady Morrell reasons.

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

Cora groans for perhaps her hundredth time as they enter the ball. With a flick of his wrist, Derek opens the double doors for his family, only Cora, Issac, and his mother are out tonight. Cora fidgets with her dress once more, snarling as the fabric catches her foot. Derek softly tells her to stop, drawing the attention of their mother.

“Stop fidgeting, you look beautiful,” Talia insists.

“I look like a calf up for auction,” Cora hisses to their mother.

Issac, ever the instigator, leans forward to moo at Cora. Derek can’t fight the grin at his brother's jesting, sharing a look of pure joy with Issac at Cora’s frustrations. Talia tries to comfort Cora by telling her how Laura survived which only adds to the increased smell of Cora’s anger. A young man, maybe younger than Cora-a human beta- approaches them all with a nervous grin. Cora tenses in fear at the prospect of dancing with a suitor so early in the night.

Derek opens his mouth to help her escape but Issac beats him to it, “Come sister, the cakes at balls are always delicious.” With an outstretched arm that Cora latches onto desperately, Issac dashes off with their sister. Talia faintly apologizes to the man with minimal effort and turns to Derek.

“Well, I’m sure there has to be someone here who can charm you,” Talia teases. “After all, this is the season the Viscount intends to find a wife.” Derek flinches at his mother’s increased volume, looking at her with pure disbelief.

“Mother did you really just do that,” Derek grumbles to his now grinning mother.

“Yes, I believe I just did,” she giggles as a swarm of mothers and daughters approach him.

- - - - - - - - - - -

A myriad of young suitors-mostly ladies-rush towards the door opposite their party. Stiles watches, his curiosity piqued at the gaggle of women, looking to Scott for his eavesdropping capabilities. The women part for a moment but just long enough for Stiles to catch a glimpse of the rider he encountered that morning. The man would be difficult to miss, even harder to forget, with his muscular stature, dark stubble that matches his raven hair, and those hypnotic green eyes.

“I believe I know that man,” Stiles mutters, his gaze never straying from the man.

“The Viscount, Alpha Hale,” Stiles’ stomach plummets at the word ‘alpha’ next to 'viscount'. “I don’t remember introducing you,” Lady Morrell ponders, snapping Stiles’ gaze off the man and back onto her ladyship.

“Of course, my mistake,” Lady Morrell doesn’t seem to believe his ‘mistake’ but she plays along to his relief. “Though you do have a good eye. Alpha Hale is well-connected and from a good family, not to mention a Lycan Alpha, from a long line of Lycans, and is looking to marry this season. He is truly our most eligible bachelor this season.” Stiles teeters a little at the information.

Not just a Viscount, but a Lycan and Alpha Viscount. He is in so much trouble.

“He is quite handsome,” Scott adds from her Ladyship’s other side.

“Yes,” Stiles replies. “I suppose he is quite handsome.”

Another suitor chooses that blissful moment to approach them, requesting Scott’s hand for a dance, Scott hesitates, looking to Stiles first. Stiles gives a nod sending Scott onto the floor with the Lord. Morrell sighs at Scott requesting his permission and Stiles just sends her a lethal grin. Lady Morrell and Melissa move away from the floor and towards the feast allowing Stiles one last gaze upon the Viscount. Scott begins dancing with one partner, then another, allowing Stiles to watch the Viscount with his partners while pretending to watch Scott.

Stiles watches on in silent glee as the Viscount holds a constant frown throughout every dance with every partner. No matter how beautiful his partner is, the Viscount maintains his frown or deepens it when he has a partner that fumbles through the steps, like his current. You have to be quite bold to dance with a viscount when you can barely dance at all. The Viscount dismisses himself from his latest partner, one fumble too many Stiles guesses, and being the idiot he is, Stiles watches the Viscount step outside and follows him.

Despite it being spring, there is still a crisp chill in the air, the slipping grasp of winter. Stiles enjoys the cold and is grateful to have on his multiple layers rather than a gown. Faint chatter down the walk draws Stiles near. Viscount Hale is accompanied by a couple of gentlemen he overhears use the phrase, 'wed, bed, and bred'. Feeling his temper climb, Stiles sneaks down the path and towards the gentlemen, using a bush as cover to hear the rest of their conversation.

“Don’t tell me you’re anticipating a love match, Hale,” one gentleman mocks.

“Love is the last thing I want, but if I am to marry, it must be someone who will not disgrace my family and its name. Someone who is tolerable, dutiful, and has at least half a brain. Someone who can bear the title of viscountess. It shouldn’t be so hard to find yet every suitor I meet falls short at every turn, male and female.”

“Perhaps wait until the King names a diamond, at least excusing you from the burden of picking, then you’ll only have to manage to woo the piece.” Stiles is fuming at their wordings and the lack of decorum from a group of alphas who are supposedly top bachelors for the season.

“Oh I should have no problem there,” is Alpha Hale’s reply. Stiles scoffs at the display of ego and posturing.

This is exactly why he can’t trust Lady Morrell for finding Scott a match. She spoke so highly of him, recommended him even, and this is the man who has her favor? How could she be so blind, so ignorant to the man’s follies? Amidst his mental scathing, Stiles missed the departure of the men, finding himself in blissful silence once more. With a heavy sigh, he hopes is enough to keep his rage to a simmer, Stiles steps away from the bush and back onto the path.

“Is someone there,” Stiles freezes at the call, staying just behind the bush to avoid spotting. “I can hear your heartbeat, I know you’re there.” The voice is much closer this time. Stiles tries to take a couple of scurrying steps away, his heartbeat only growing and betraying him, so he turns to greet the man himself.

“You,” Viscount Hale ventures, his steps bringing him closer to Stiles, his face no longer a frown but a curious smile.

“Pardon me, my lord,” Stiles replies, his tone cold and bitter.

“I was wondering if we’d meet again, I never did catch your name.” Stiles’ composure leaves him, wanting to be done with this fraud once and for all.

“Why? So you might discern whether I am tolerable, dutiful, and obtain half a brain?” Stiles counters.

“You were eavesdropping?”

“Hardly necessary when you are speaking loud enough for the entire party to hear. Shouldn’t a lycan know better than to have such conversations at a ball if he did not want to be heard?”

“And you take issue with my requirements,” Derek demands.

“Of course I do, I take issue with any man who sees people are mere objects or pawns in their game and as cattle or breeding stock,” Stiles hisses the last part thinking of the other man’s comment.

“No one was supposed to hear that-”

“So it’s okay to say it since no one was supposed to hear a gentleman say such a thing?”

Viscount Hale, yes?” Stiles doesn’t wait for him to confirm, instead placing himself closer to the alpha. “I find your character as deficient as your horsemanship. I shall bid you goodnight.”

Stiles watches the Viscount with smug satisfaction as his usual stony expression morphs into one of shock at his boldness. With a tap to his own chest-a signal to listen to his heartbeat, he hopes the man knows-Stiles maneuvers around the alpha and heads back into the ball feeling victorious for having the last word but also disappointed. He’d hoped their bickering that morning on horseback had been a good sign, a nod towards his potential, and yet he is just as unbearable as every other man in the ton seems to be.

Scott is finishing a dance when Stiles approaches, sending a half-hearted smile to the lady, Stiles pulls his brother away from the floor and the other suitors. They pass Melissa who he asks to get the carriage ready and continue on his way to find Lady Morrell. The pair find her conversing with a beautiful woman in a purple gown with eyes that are annoyingly familiar. Lady Morrell catches his eyes and turns to her companion with a flourished wave.

“Lady Morrell, we wish to leave,” Stiles begins before introductions can be forced.

“Omega Stilinski, allow me to introduce you—”

“Charmed,” Stiles greets without looking at the woman. “Our mama is already in our carriage, we will see you at home.”

“People are watching dear-”

“Yes, well it has become painfully clear that we are woefully unprepared for this lion’s den,” Stiles interrupts. “I am sure Scott’s absence will only make him that much more desirable.”

“We are truly so grateful Lady Morrell,” Scott calls as I drag him away from the eyes of others and off towards the carriage.

- - - - - - - - - - -

But after taking in the scene from last night’s festivities, it is clear the season won’t be quite so fragrant for everyone.

The Viscount’s own mama may have loudly declared her eldest son’s lofty intentions to marry, but I cannot be the only one wondering if this former Captial-R of Rake is, indeed, ready to flourish.

Perhaps the Viscount, like the rest of us, is simply waiting for the king to finally name his diamond. Or, perhaps, this author should take matters into her own hands.

-Lady Whistledown Season 2, Episode 1 (42m27sec)

Chapter Text

A knock on the door pulls Stiles from the window. Lady Morrell enters, shutting the door softly behind herself and giving Stiles a once-over.

“Do you plan on riding again tomorrow morning,” He nearly drops his tea in surprise at the remark. “It is my house, did you truly expect me to not find out?”

Stiles opens his mouth to explain and is cut off by Lady Morrell raising an envelope towards him, “Since you love sneaking around, I’ll save you the trouble and show you this. This is from your Grandparents, the McCalls, I wrote to them upon your arrival.”

“Those people are not my grandparents.” His tone is even and firm but his heart pounds against his chest making him grateful that the Lady is not a lycan.

“It seems to me, you enjoy lying to me, testing me,” Lady Morrell suggests. Stiles clenches his fists into his pants in a desperate attempt to obtain a grasp of the situation.

“I apologize for riding unaccompanied,” Stiles tries to Morrell’s lack of amusement.

“You know that is not what I mean Stiles,” lack of formality has Stiles reeling, “Would you like to tell me why you have come to London with your brother? The truth, please.”

“We have come to find Scott a partner,” Morrell taps her foot while Stiles sorts out the rest. “Scott must marry someone of nobility.”

“They failed to manipulate your mother’s marriage so they want to do so with Scott,” Morrell summarizes.

“Step-mother technically,” Morrell glares at his casual tone. “Melissa was intended for someone by her parents but he was cruel, so very cruel. She ran away with Scott and met my recently widowed father and, well, me. Nobody knows that, they all think my father is Scott’s, and that Melissa is my mother, and we let them. Society, if they knew the truth...The McCalls don’t know the truth either, they just feel slighted by her marriage choice, my father’s lack of title.”

“Father got injured at work, he’s recovering, slowly, but we had to be very conscious of our money. He remains home, in Poland, growing stronger every day but we began to run out of money. We used the last of our money to get here and the McCalls promised a sizable contribution for Scott and to ensure we’re well cared for afterward if he marries nobility. Only then.”

“And what of you?”

“If I could marry to spare my family, I would, but I am not of the McCall line. I am a lowly, Polish Omega, son to an ex-captain of the guard. I spent years giving Scott lessons, making sure he holds himself in the proper manner, and doing everything I could to ensure his happiness. Please don’t take that away from him,” Stiles gulps down his tears to hear her reply.

“Scott deserves to know, it is his future after all, not yours,” Morrell reasons.

“I know Scott better than anyone, which is why I shield him from the truth. If I told him he would marry any noble that presents themself to him whether he is happy or not,” Stiles shakes his head with a bitter laugh at the thought. “He deserves a chance at happiness and he won’t factor that in if he is troubled by the money and the pressure of marrying high enough. Please, Lady Morrell.”

Her ladyship hums at his rant, peering into his eyes with an unwavering gaze then leaving the room altogether without another word.

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

The ball commences, gossip is muttered, steps are danced, and Derek stands on the side watching in faux interest. Issac gives one teasing remark, then another, pointing out this and that for Derek to also admire, but nothing is of note until the obnoxious fanfare of his majesty plays.

“Please, allow me the honor to present to you, this season’s diamond,” the king’s voice projects across the hall too loud as usual, as Derek and every other Lycan fight a grimace at the volume. “Beta, Scott Stilinski.” Derek nudges others out of the way to get a better look at the diamond.

A young man, probably Issac’s age, is walked up to the King by his footman. Derek eyes the man’s gait, his perfect posture, and the delicate smile on his lips. While the man-Scott-is thanking the king, Derek stalks through the sea of patrons to be the first to request a dance.

“Viscount Hale,” the King bellows, “have you yet met this season’s diamond?”

Derek gives the king a bow and raises to respond, “I am most grateful for the introduction, your majesty, if I may request a dance with Beta Stilinski.” The beta, being coy as can be, looks back to the king for permission before agreeing to dance. Scott’s hand matches his well enough, the warmth of it palpable even through their gloves. Derek takes his moment of guidance to inspect the man further.

His skin is a beautiful golden hue and he smells faintly of pine and the signature scent that tells him Scott is a Lycan Beta. Derek is pleasantly surprised by this information and the soft expression in the Beta’s eyes. They begin their dance with ease, Scott being a nimble, and steady dancer. Derek's feet are very grateful for this. 

“Do you have any thoughts on children,” Derek says, breaking their intimate atmosphere.

Scott giggles a little at the question, “besides the fact that I cannot bear them myself, they are lovely, but not something I can’t live without.”  Derek preens at the information, this beta being sensible whilst also being the diamond is truly a dream come true.

“And do you play any musical instruments and read by any chance?”

“Many, my lord,” Scott chuckles. “Yes I can be found reading quite often, between the many languages I’ve learned and studied, but I am far too social to be found reading too often.” Derek is nearly ready to walk away with this beta as his partner without a doubt from those few questions alone but first, he must be truly sure that this man will be worthy.

“You don’t seem uncomfortable by my questioning?”

Scott answers him with a shrug, “I find that someone who knows what they want and what they’re looking for is admirable.” Scott’s heartbeat remains steady once more showing Derek how genuine and thoughtful the man truly is.

“Is your father in attendance? I shall like to speak with him, if I may,” Scott’s smile slips at the question a faint trace of sadness emerges within his scent.

“Perhaps you could meet with my brother, our father is unwell and it is his blessing you’ll need if we are-Oh, there he is! Stiles!”

Derek winces at the strange name and the lack of explanation about the beta’s father but Derek is more than willing to charm a brother rather than a father. A brother will be a simple endeavor compared to a father, especially with having multiple of his own. Derek turns to the approaching party, Lady Morrell at its head, a beautiful woman Derek assumes is Scott’s mother, and finally, the young man who chastised him at the previous ball.

“I see you’ve met Beta Stilinski, this is-”

“His brother.” Derek winces at the realization. The brother with whom he must secure a blessing is the very same one who spoke so easily of his hatred for him.

“Omega Stilinski, my lord.” Derek stares at the man who holds his fate in his nimble fingers; an omega who has only seen the worst of him in their short acquaintance.

“Might I speak with you brother,” the omega says, interrupting their staring. He does not wait for a reply as he drags a bewildered Scott away from him and into the adjacent room to Derek's horror.

“Stiles, what’s wrong,” Derek hears Scott whisper to his brother whose heartbeat is accelerating by the second.

“You are not to go near that man. Do you understand?” Derek loses track of their conversation by his mother’s appearance at his side.

“He is quite the diamond, my dear,” Talia acknowledges, her eyes trained on the room the brothers vanished to.

“Indeed. He is the one I will marry.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

Formed under pressure, desired by many, yet possessed only by a fortunate few, there is nothing on Earth quite so envied as a diamond. 

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 1 (54m21s)

Chapter Text

Scott hands Lady Morrell his list of prospects-courtesy of Stiles’ research-with an excited grin, no doubt ready for the day ahead. Lady Morrell scans the list with her typical frown but Stiles is determined to make this day a good one, regardless of her opinion.

“I see that Lady Kali is at the top of your list,” Morrell muses from beside Scott. Melissa also looks confused by this information, taking the list into her own hands.

“Is she not a bit of a dandy,” Scott asks.

“For a noble, alpha woman, not quite the term I’d use,” Stiles chuckles.

“Is that what you’re looking for dear,” Melissa ventures. Scott looks at his mother and her confused expression then looks back to him, a smile growing on his face.

“If Stiles favors her, then so will I, at least until I can get to know her better than her outward appearance.”

“I see that you have left off Lord Hale, a mistake on your part, Omega Stilinski?”

“Lord Hale is quite convincing upon first impressions but lacks under scrutiny,” Stiles huffs as he walks closer to the others. Scott has the decency to look chastised at wanting to know more of the lord while the women look confused.

“And what did you hear that has him voided from the list entirely,” Morrell pries.

“He stated quite clearly his intention of marrying strictly for duty and does not believe in love at all.”

Morrell chuckles at his rage, “Most marriages in the ton are of business, my dear. His approach is nothing foreign. True love matches are what is rare.” Stiles watches in agony as his brother’s face crumples with this news.

“You know what you are truly looking for Scott, just focus on that, not the viscount.”

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

Issac finds his troubles amusing, as all siblings tend to, but Derek is determined. Every rose has its thorn and all that, and yes, Omega Stilinski seems to be all thorns, but there’s a rose in there somewhere. Derek is determined to charm that rose and secure his diamond. whatever it may take.

Upon approaching Lady Morrell’s manor, Derek is quick to find a long line of suitors of varying ages and genders, all waiting in line. Almost every single one is an alpha, the occasional beta thrown in, also a majority of Lycan’s which Derek is surprised by. As he walks further into the home and past the line, Derek hears the grumblings and complaints of the others, many cursing Scott’s dreadful brother.

“Omega Stilinski, am I to wait here all day? Alpha Kali has already spent an outrageous amount of time with your brother,” a suitor at the front practically yells at the omega.

Not exactly the best way to get yourself an audience when the one you’re yelling at holds your fate in the palm of his hands.

“That is simply because my brother is enraptured by Alpha Kali at the moment, I can assume you hope for the same result, do you not?”

“Perhaps we should listen to his brother and be grateful to our dear host,” Derek calls out, silencing the remaining grumbles of a complaint.

“Thank you, Lord-” the Omega meets his eyes and pinches his face in disgust. That language Derek doesn’t know appears again as the Omega tries to pull himself together before him.

“I fear your arrival is too late Lord Hale, you will now find yourself at the back of a very long queue.” The omega smiles at him somewhat feral despite being human while delivering this news. Derek nods his head aside to speak with the man who follows with a heavy sigh.

“I wish to escort Beta Scott to the races this afternoon,” the omega huffs at the request, “if you would please allow me the honor.”

“He already has an escort for this afternoon, Lord Hale, but I thank you on behalf of my brother for the kind offer.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“He is otherwise engaged.”

“The day after?”

“Spoken for,” the omega replies without hesitation.

“And the day after that,” Derek sighs desperate to keep his tone light and proper despite his frustration.

“He may be free…after December. Well, unless he’s on his honeymoon by then.” Derek wants to growl and snarl in the omega’s face to stop the merciless approach he has adopted. but he can’t, so he laughs. “Did I say something funny, my lord?” The amusement drops from Stilinski’s face at his laughter and a sense of pride consumes him for besting the omega this round.

“What is funny, my lord, is that you are here asking for my favor not only after what I overheard the other night but what I’ve read of you and your illicit affairs.” Now Derek’s smile drops, his amusement vanishing quicker than it appeared, the omega back to prideful and vicious.

“End of the queue Hale!” Someone shouts, a volley of voices agreeing with the first and ordering him to the back of the line. Omega Stilinski just smiles at his agony, is proud of his work, and is happy with Derek’s suffering. With a pathetic excuse for a bow, the Omega leaves him in the hall, shutting the last open door to block him from sight.

Derek takes a few moments to compose himself and to reel in his shock at his treatment then marches out of the house and back to his own. The trip home is a blur of muttered curses and shock at the gall of a lowly Omega from, oh what had someone told him? Poland! A polish omega treats him like dirt because he is no pure lord. Ridiculous.

A chorus of voices pulls him into the sitting room where the entire family is gathered around a freshly returned Jackson.

“Jackson, you’re back, that’s perfect,” Jackson looks at him in alarm, perhaps knowing he is plotting.

“I would like all of you to get ready, we are attending the races, together, united as one.” No one answers him, not even mother, they just stare at him in alarm probably not liking whatever emotion clings to his gaze. His eyes are probably crazed and vicious, still lost in that Omega’s vengeful glee.

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

Any suitor wishing to gain an audience with ‘Beta Scott Stilinski’ must first tame the rather prickly spinster otherwise known as ‘his brother’.

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 2 (0m47s)

Chapter Text

Any suitor wishing to gain an audience with ‘Beta Scott Stilinski’ must first tame the rather prickly spinster otherwise known as ‘his brother’.

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 2 (0m47s) Continued

Stiles enjoys Lady Kali’s company. She is well-versed in poetry and speaks to Scott with a gentleness that can be quite rare. Scott isn’t enamored with her just yet, but Stiles hopes she will pull through and win his favor, or at least remove Lord Hale from Scott’s mind entirely. Lady Morrell remains a dozen steps ahead of them, allowing Scott his privacy while Stiles trails a little behind the pair in his own regard of their discretion.

A young gentleman, one quite handsome that Stiles does not recognize approaches Lady Morrell, the pair are speaking with one another like old friends.

“Beta Talbot, allow me to introduce you to Omega Stilinski and Beta Scott Stilinski,” Stiles bows in greeting to the gentlemen as does Scott.

“My apologies, I’m afraid my brother already has an escort for today, Mr. Talbot.”

“That is all very well, I was hoping to accompany you, if I may.” Stiles struggles to respond for a moment, caught off guard by someone genuinely interested in him. Scott tucks his head down to hide a ridiculous smile at the gentleman and at Stiles’ shock.

“Of course, Mr. Talbot,” the man smiles and takes his place at Stiles’ elbow.

“How are you finding the season,” he greets.

“Well, it is a season,” Mr. Talbot laughs in response and shares the sentiment.

“You traveled far for the season, from Poland, correct?”

“Yes, we did sir how-”

“I’ve visited once, it’s a beautiful place, one I’d love to visit again.” Stiles will not blush, he refuses to blush because of one man’s charms and fascination with his home country. Even if it’s nice to hear someone who is familiar with Poland.

Feeling someone’s eyes on him, Stiles turns slightly to gauge his surroundings, and there, no more than twenty yards is Lord Hale glaring at him in all his smoldering glory. Lord Hale tips his chin in greeting but Stiles turns away as if he didn’t see the man at all.

“Shall we take to our seats, Beta Talbot,” Stiles asks, his arm hanging for the gentlemen to grasp.

“With pleasure,” Talbot replies, taking a soft hold of his elbow and leading him to the stands.

Talbot appears to be a most fascinating and genuine man, who has traveled the globe on more than one occasion, in the pursuit of medicine. This a noble pursuit that Scott takes to point out, telling Talbot how similar his interests align with Stiles’. Stiles frowns at his brother’s meddling, opening his mouth to draw attention back to Lady Kali only for the lady to rise from her seat and call out to a passing Lord Hale.

“Omega Stilinski, Beta Stilinski, Kali,” lack of formality for the lady leaves Stiles with an unsettled gut. If these two are friends…Stiles doesn’t dare ponder that avenue of spiraling thoughts.

“How delightful to see you, My Lord,” Scott pipes up from beside Kale. Stiles bites back a sigh at the man’s appearance alongside Scott’s eagerness.

“Lord Hale, allow me to introduce myself, Beta Brett Talbot,” talbot greets with a tip of his hat. Hale nods back but doesn’t actually reply to him. Stiles eyes the pair and their casual greeting with concern and annoyance.

“I did intend on visiting you this morning, Beta Stilinski-”

“My brother is aware-”

“-but I wanted to have time to attend breakfast with my family, we are quite close you see. Actually, there they are now.”

Stiles only glimpses back once to see the entire family, even the youngest three, clustered together with Lady Hale. Scott practically vibrates with joy at the mention of a big family breakfast and the sight of all the Hales attending the races together. Stiles tenses from his neck to his toes at Hale’s excuse. Yes excuse, he doesn’t believe for a second that Lord Hale attends breakfast with his family every day. No rake does that. Especially not this rake, Stiles is certain of that.

“One can tell a great deal about a man based on his pack,” Scott replies, leaning towards Stiles with raised brows.

“Yes, there are many affectionate families and packs within the ton, don’t you think,” Stiles directs the last bit towards Lady Kali who smiles in response.

“Of course, though, there are none quite as inviting as the Hale’s.” Stiles wants to scream or hit the smirk off of Lord Hale’s face. Both would be ideal but neither are truly feasible.

“I couldn’t help but notice the two of you are without refreshment,” Lord Hale inquires.

“We are perfectly content, Lord Hale,” Stiles doesn’t hiss his reply but it is a close comparison.

“It is an unseasonably hot day, anyone proper would-”

“Beta Stilinski, allow me to fetch you a lemonade,” Lady Kali exclaims, jumping from her seat. Stiles sighs at the sight, Lord Hale looking even more pleased with himself.

“That would be most appreciated, thank you, Lady Kali,” Scott giggles.

Kali vanishes in the crowd of patrons, Hale wastes no time and settles himself in Kali’s spot, collapsing between Stiles and Scott with a grunt. Stiles fights the urge to tell him off and demand he leave, only knowing that he can’t stay keeps him at bay. Lady Kali will return and he will be forced to move once more to join the family he claims to dote on.

Scott and Lord Hale lean closer, sharing whispers and soft conversation for their ears only, and Stiles stews in the silence until he can bear it no more.

“Lady Kali seems to have gotten lost. Perhaps someone should go assist her” Stiles examines but Lord Hale remains engrossed with his brother.

“I would be happy to go look for her,” Mr. Talbot replies, only adding to Stiles’ annoyance.

“It was the viscount who insisted on refreshments, perhaps he should go look for her,” his demand forces Lord Hale to look at him.

“With the race about to begin, I think not,” Hale chuckles, looking briefly at Talbot and then back to the fields.

“Who is your pick, Alpha Hale?”

“Scott,” Stiles hisses in a warning. Scott frowns at his tone, his eyes going wide at the look on Stiles’ Face.

Alpha Hale?! He wants to scream, When did you start calling him Alpha Hale for heaven’s sake?

“My pick is Nectar,” Hale mutters leaning even further into Scott’s side. “well-bred, highly trained, and a popular favorite.”

Stiles scoffs at the choice, “You have simply chosen the horse that everyone else has chosen.”

“I made a strategic bet,” Hale quips to which Stiles scoffs again.

“Please, to bet with strategy one must consider far more than a horse’s prior record and temperament.“

“Such as-”

“Such as the weather, the ground, and conditions of the track. Cool weather, a firm track, yes Nectar will do quite well but it is hot today and the track is muddy and tender. Nectar’s size will impair him in this case rather than cater to him. Leaving High Flyer, a swift and lean horse, a most satisfying victory.”

‘Perhaps we should move somewhere with more shade,” Scott asks trying to diffuse the tension.

Stiles ignores his brother’s tactics, this close, Stiles can’t help but be distracted by the alpha. He knew, the moment they met, that Lord Hale is a most attractive man, but to see him this close, under the vibrant sun is another matter entirely. His eyes, some annoying combination of green, brown, and blue, practically glow in the daylight as they analyze Stiles in their proximity. Perhaps they wouldn’t be so vibrant if the lord’s dark hale and light complexion didn’t enhance them but nevertheless, Stiles is lost in them.

“You think too much about it,” Hale whispers.

“And you think too little entirely.” The approach of Lady Kali saves the group from further argument.

“I apologize for the delay.”

“Not to worry, Lord Hale has been entertaining us,” Talbot replies to the nonchalant Kali.

“I have no doubt he has,” Kali chuckles, moving in towards Scott once more.

Hale makes no move to leave, even drinking the second lemonade from Lady Kali with a smirk. Stiles insists on there being room, everyone shifting for the lady, leaving Lord Hale pressed against nearly every inch of Stiles. As Stiles could’ve guessed, every inch of Hale is muscle practically carved from stone which isn’t the most pleasant feeling to have digging into your side.

The discomfort, however, is short-lived as the echoes of the starting bells over the field call their attention. With the thunder of hooves, the race begins, the crowd roaring at the sight. Stiles is quick to stand for a better view. Hale and their companions are quick to follow. Stiles loses himself in the race, screaming and cheering for High-Flyer. Lord Hale is a softer voice than his own cheering for Nectar but cheering nonetheless.

Hearing Lord Hale praise his choice steed only stirs Stiles on more, his voice raising in volume the further the match moves along. Both exclaim louder, trying to overpower one another, Stiles pinches his fingers to whistle over the yelling. It takes everything in him not to laugh and shove Lord Hale as his horse crosses the line victorious ahead of Nectar.

“I must admit,” Stiles gloats, “I have never bested a viscount before.” Lord Hale looks at him in alarm, not expecting him to brag possibly, or at the words themselves. “Beating you feels just as sweet as beating any others, except, perhaps just a little sweeter.” Hale’s jaw clenches at his bragging but Stiles isn’t worried. This is far too good to simply let go because of a sensitive alpha.

“Stiles, doesn’t Nectar remind you of that beloved horse I used to adore,” Scott intervenes.

‘Is that so,” Lord Hale smiles as if Stiles was never there pestering him in the first place. “Well, take my arm and I shall take you down to see him.”

With yet another giggle, Scott takes Lord Hale’s arm and is guided away from the stands and towards the horses. Kali follows with a frown, stuck in Lord Hale’s shadow.

“Omega Stilinski, I must ask, why do you pester Lord Hale so?”

“If the viscount is truly interested in courting my brother, is it not my duty to test him, make sure he is a wise choice,” he replies to Talbot.

“He does not like to lose, could never stomach it, even back at oxford.”

Stiles freezes at the information. He knew there was something strange about the way they greeted one another. Why else would an introduction be so awkward, if it wasn’t because they know one another, and that one asked the other to be there?

“You know one another from Oxford then? I thought you had just met today?”

“I fear I’ve said too much,” Talbot hesitates.

“You have said not nearly enough and will say much more this instant.” Talbot eyes him nervously, no doubt trying to decide how much to say, or what not to say.

“He thought you would judge me if you knew we were acquaintances,” Talbot begins. “But I assure you, my interest in you today was genuine, I-”

“Genuine in the sense that you were sent to distract me,” Stiles demands. Mr. Talbot gapes and struggles to reply, giving him answer enough. “Good day Mr. Talbot.”

Stiles leaves the beta to remove Scott from the lord’s vicinity, “Stiles, it’s so dreadful, they intend to put Nectar down today.” Stiles ignores Scott to glare into the eyes of the lord.

“We are leaving,” Stiles states to a bemused Hale.

“I have heard of sore losers, Omega Stilinski, but never sore winners,” Hale’s smirk snaps Stiles’ last string, his patience truly spent.

“Do not speak to me or my brother ever again,” Stiles warns.

“Stiles, what is the matter?”

“It seems there was a second game afoot today Scott,” he pauses to look back at Mr. Talbot, “And Lord Hale was determined to make me the fool. Come now Scott, we’re leaving.”

They take a few steps in tense silence until Lord Hale rushes up to Scott, “I meant no harm, I only wished to spend time with you.”

Lord Hale looks at his brother in genuine concern as if he is truly afraid of what Scott thinks of him, but he does not apologize to Stiles or even look at him. Why would he apologize to an annoying omega who stands between him and his target.

It’s then he decides he hates Lord Hale, despises the man for everything he is, and pretends to be. It’s the look on Scott’s face that concerns him. A look of understanding beneath a slight blush at the lord’s proximity. Just like so many others, Scott is falling for his lies and games, but the matter of heartbreak is no game to Stiles.

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

The following day, while they wait for the king, Scott defends Lord Hale. Stiles hates the way his disappointment and hurt swell over him simply because his brother is defending the man who tried to trick him with a faux suitor. How easily his brother turned on him for a handsome face and strong body…he can’t deny it stings.

“It’s not like you gave him a choice Stiles, you forbade him from calling on me.”

“You think he was clever,” Stiles snaps.

“No, of course not, but father always said it takes a courageous man to go after what he wants, and isn’t that what Lord Hale was doing?”

“Yes, well father also said the mark of a true gentleman is honesty, which is something the viscount severely lacks time and time again,” Scott winces at his return but doesn’t reply just stews in Stiles’ disappointment. A crack of gravel alerts them of the king’s entrance, Stiles and Scott rushing onto their feet while Lady Morrell shifts closer to the king.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Morrell greets, the three of them bowing.

“Lady Morrell, Omega Stilinski, my diamond,” the king calls offering Scott his hand. Scott rushes to accept the hand, while Stiles and Lady Morrell follow the king from behind.

“You have quite the inner-circle watching out for you dear diamond. Your mother, brother, Lady Morrell, and me, the king.”

“I am most grateful and blessed, Your Majesty,” Scott dutifully replies.

“You must remain alert dear, for there are many that will try to break this circle apart, for means to their own ends. When those people reveal themselves alongside their sly intentions, so that I may decide whether they are worthy, of course.” Stiles looks over the king’s shoulder to a tense Lady Morrell.

Lady Morrell, being swift as ever, picks up on the name Stiles is sure to divulge and calls out to him, “Omega Stilinski, perhaps you’d like to take your brother to explore the rest of the grounds?”

Chapter Text

Derek swipes at his brother once more, Jackson dodging with just enough time to spare his torso the wrath of Derek’s claws. He backs away from Jackson with a hiss, his brain recalling the afternoon at the races and the embarrassment Omega Stilinski delivered him.

“He is intolerable, arrogant, and thinks he knows everything.” Derek spits as he backs off his brother.

“He does sound quite terrible,” Jackson replies between recovering gulps of air.

“Especially for you, since you are the one who knows everything,” Isaac adds from the sidelines. With a growl, Derek lunges for Jackson once more, pursuing him ruthlessly. Jackson is lazy from his travels and can barely dodge the barrage of jabs and is quickly sent to the ground by Derek.

“And the winner of every round today, it would appear,” Jackson groans.

Derek sighs at his brother’s attitude, “less talking, more sparring brother.” He hears Isaac let out a foreboding sigh as he switches places with Jackson. Derek doesn’t care. He just needs to get his mind and body as far away from that omega as possible.

“Do you know why I win every time,” he waits for Isaac to recover from his hit.

“Because every time you lose, you claim we cheated.” Derek lands a hit on his brother’s stomach for that reply, Isaac groaning in reply.

“No, it’s because I know my duties, what my purposes are, and how to obtain them. That is exactly what I will do to make Scott my viscountess.” Isaac doesn’t reply just tries a new assault on him after losing once more. “Beta Scott is a kind young man. We are well suited and he is content without children. He will make a good husband,” Derek growls with each hit he tries to land. Isaac on the other hand smirks at his commentary.

“What he means to say, Jackson, is that he has already dismissed all other suitable partners in town and he will look weak if he has to concede,” Isaac gloats.

“Perhaps your life would be more agreeable if you pursued someone with a less disagreeable brother-”

“Why should I be the one to admit defeat,” Derek leaves his sparring with Isaac to roar at Jackson. “It does not matter which person I ended up pursuing, there always would’ve been someone. An obstinate father or a meddlesome aunt. I will not let one big-headed brother, an omega brother who is younger than me, might I add, keep me from getting what I want.”

“Whom you want brother, not what,” Isaac snaps at him successfully landing a hit on his arm. The first one of the day that isn’t afraid to bleed instantly.

Isaac no longer looks amused. if anything, he looks disappointed with him and honestly angry. Isaac is the artist of the family so if anyone is going to see love as something coveted and special beyond their mother it’s him. He’s been mostly quiet with Derek’s endeavors but perhaps his true feelings are finally coming to the surface.

“Perhaps we should end sparring for today,” Jackson cuts in.

“Isaac shows his respect for me by not holding back. We’re fine,” Derek looks back to Isaac, “Right brother?”

“I will always respect you brother, however, dragging our entire family to the event for your scheming,” Isaac begins, squaring his shoulders, “Then, you had the nerve to ask Brett Talbot to distract the brother so you could intervene, and yet you’re shocked that the omega is angry?”

“Not to mention you keep mentioning his status as if he isn’t worthy of respect since he’s an omega? Might I remind you that two of your siblings are omegas, including me,” he emphasizes with a lunge at Derek’s neck.

They exchange a few jabs back and forth until Derek finally knocks his lanky brother off his feet and into the grass, his frustration making him sloppy. Derek worries for a moment that Isaac will be angry with him still but he sticks his hand up for assistance and Derek gladly accepts.

“Feel better,” Derek asks, waiting for Isaac to meet his eyes once more.

Isaac nods but still looks at Derek with a gaze similar to disappointment.

“Well brothers, thank you for your assistance this morning, but it is time for me to go secure my victory.” He knows he’s a coward for not acknowledging Isaac’s frustrations and disappointment in him. With those final words, Derek bids his brother’s farewell and prepares for his day.

His confidence never wavers, hasn’t even with that horrendous brother getting in his way, and he has no intentions of growing unsure now. From the moment he saw the beta’s eyes light up he knew the perfect gift for the young man and knows the beta will love it. That’s where he is left now, waiting before Lady Morrell’s manner with a groomed and stunning Nectar bearing a large bow. While Derek expected the first thing he hear to be a gasp or giggle, his mood drastically falls at the familiar tone of an angry omega.

“How is it possible for you to need further clarity,” the voice snaps at him. Derek looks at Omega Stilinski stomping across the courtyard reeking of pure rage.

“I have brought a gift for Beta Stilinski.”

“Take your Trojan horse elsewhere,” he laughs at the reply still confident in his gesture.

“I can assure you, Omega Stilinski, this is a very real horse. I don’t recommend trying to climb inside.”

“So this truly is just one large game for you,” the omega cries sending Derek’s wolf reeling. Even one as controlled as him, an omega upset and smelling so strongly of pain and anger isn’t easy to breathe in without some instinct clawing at the surface.

“I am not here to play games,” he mutters clenching his fists beside the horse to fight off his urges to calm the omega and ease his emotions.

“But it is! You don’t love my brother, you don’t even believe in love, yet you insist on pursuing him! Why,” the omega holds his fists at his sides, his knuckles white in their urge to remain by his side. “You want him because he isn’t easy, because I am not making it easy for you, and you think it’s a challenge, a game of some sort that you must win. If this isn’t a game or some prank then what was Mr. Talbot’s purpose?”

“It was not nearly as great of a deceit as you imply,” the scent of pain and hurt triples at his reply. Derek nearly stumbles at the scent paired with the enlarged doe eyes peering at him with disbelief.

“So now you question my judgment as well!”

“Only because you questioned mine.”

The doe eyes narrow at him between one blink and the next, “I have never met an Alpha so callous and careless in his endeavors-”

“You do not even know me,” Derek snaps.

“I know you are cold and calculated and that you utter promises without batting an eye,” Derek hands the horse to a nearby servant to give himself a few moments to collect himself, to simmer his alpha down and prevent him from snapping at the omega.

He moves away from the horse to step into the omega’s space, “You act as if I am some kind of villain when every beta and omega aspires to be with me. Others see marrying me as an honor. You must know that.” The omega gives him a bitter chuckle at the remark, his eyes igniting with their typical fire.

“You have been perfectly clear about what it is you do and do not wish for, but has it occurred to you that this isn’t about you or your wishes but your brothers?”

Derek watches the fire he is so familiar with vanish from the omega’s eyes. The golden eyes lose their emotion and triumph at his words, falling to an expression devoid of any emotion whatsoever. Omega Stilinski, who has always been so animated and fiery, grows cold before him, and it's his doing. Derek knows he should be proud, proud that he broke the tough charade the omega brandishes, but his gut twists at the sight instead and fills with dread. He hesitates to further his lecture, unsure of the new side he’s seeing and unsure of how to proceed.

He’s saved from continuing by Beta Stilinski’s appearance, “Lord Hale,” the beta greets with a smile and a bow.

“Beta Scott,” Scott beams at the use of his first name, “I have brought you a small token to remember our time at the races yesterday.” Derek walks back to the servant and gestures to the horse with a confident grin.

“Oh,” Beta Scott replies, drawing his concern. “The horse is for me…” Beta Scott looks uncomfortable with the gift. Derek looks to his brother expecting a smirk but finds the same cold exterior he left moments ago.

Dread floods his lungs at the sight before him, “I thought you loved animals?”

“Oh, I do! It’s just, I usually prefer the ones that can curl up on my lap,” Beta Scott giggles.

“My apologies Beta Scott, you spoke of a horse back home that Nectar reminded you of and I-”

“That horse was from a novel, my lord,” Omega Stilinski replies with a cold tone and empty gaze. “A love story even, something my brother is an enthusiast of, my lord.” Derek hopes his eyes don’t actually twitch despite feeling one of them move.

“It was a very kind gesture, Alpha Hale,” Beta Stilinski adds with a soft and genuine smile. Derek flicks his gaze between the two siblings, feeling for the first time in his life, embarrassed and chastised in his pursuit of a partner.

“Come, Scott. Thank Viscount Hale, then we should return to Lady Morrell.” Beta Scott bows to him with another smile and turns back to his brother. The omega wastes no time grabbing his brother’s arm and urging him inside sending one last cold glare over his shoulder to Derek. Derek grinds his teeth at the look and flounders for a way to recover from this grievous error.

He spends the rest of the day nursing a potential headache despite not actually being able to host one and being locked in his office. As day fades into night, Derek still doesn’t know the best form of recovery to win Beta Scott over once and for all, but he’s saved from that thought by the sounds of his family preparing to depart the house. His ears pick up the clicks of his mother and sister’s heels and the faint smell of his mother’s perfume which she only wears when in public.

Leaving his office, Derek catches his mother in formal attire headed for the door, “I wasn’t aware of a ball this evening.”

“No ball dear, just a soiree at the Morrell house, did you not receive your invitation?” Jackson and Cora continue towards the carriage while his mother looks at him in concern.

“The soiree is at the Morrell house,” he sighs knowing that he didn’t exactly win Omega Stilinski over this morning. “And Omega Stilinski accuses me of playing games.”

“Can you truly blame him dear,” Talia sighs as she turns to follow her other children.

“What,” Derek marvels at his mother’s easy betrayal.

“Omega Stilinski is looking out for his brother who is looking for a love match and with you expressing so forthright your disdain for such a thing…” Talia sighs once more at him, disappointment creasing her beautiful face. “Perhaps Beta Scott’s other suitors plan on choosing their words more wisely tonight. Some are even reading poetry.” Derek gapes at his mother and her lack of sympathy.

First Isaac, then the omega, now his mother, who else will lecture him tonight so ruthlessly? What has gotten into everyone? Since when have love matches become the goal and so sought after? And why did everyone decide on this matter without his knowledge?

“There is a lesson for you in this Derek, I just hope that this time you will finally learn it.” The conversation drew Jackson and Cora back inside the doorway to eavesdrop further but also gape at their mother. Derek looks to his siblings for assistance but both of them are stunned and smiling at their mother, obviously agreeing with her.

“Come children,” Jackson and Cora trip into one another as Talia approaches, their expressions pinched with amusement as Derek’s suffering.

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

Chapter Text

Stiles is enjoying the bumbling and fumbling suitors far more than he should and for all the wrong reasons. Scott laughs when appropriate and smiles encouragingly to nervous suitors as they perform but Stiles is just keen to watch them suffer. Cora Hale took her place beside him a while ago, also laughing as he does and not in the same way Scott is trying to.

“Was this your idea,” Lady Cora asks, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Stiles chuckles at her joy and shakes his head.

“I wish I could take credit but it was actually Lady Morrell’s idea. You see, the alphas, thanks to their spirit and competition, concocted the rest of this farce on their own.” Lady Cora snorts, actually snorts at his reply, and grows even more invested in the evening’s charades.

“Of course they did,” Lady Cora giggles, and Stiles joins in as a suitor finishes his tap dance.

“You are the Viscount’s sister, yes,” he asks, not wanting to like her so much.

“One of them, yes, but please, do not hold it against me.” They share grins at her response and turn back to the new suitor and his entertainment.

“The fact that the viscount is your relation almost makes me think better of him.” Cora turns to him with another smile, “Almost.”

“Well, we should certainly not give him too much credit, now, should we?” Stiles fights the grin he knows will take over his face at the reply because she is right and Stiles already likes her far too much considering her relations.

A brief admission takes part then and Stiles loses Lady Cora in the masses. It’s for the better he doesn’t speak further with her, he can’t be seen liking a Hale so effortlessly while hating the eldest Hale on the side. So Stiles mingles with other guests and even jokes with Lady Morrell over how competitive the evening has turned until they reconvene with Alpha Kali reading a truly beautiful poem for everyone with ease.

Stiles watches on in glee as everyone in the room becomes smitten and impressed with Alpha Kali and her choice of poetry. Scott looks happily flushed at the reading and happy with Kali’s words only adding to Stiles’ glee. Kali reads the entire poem without consulting a page, listing every word from her heart.

“A heart whose love is innocent,” Kali finishes, her eyes boring into Scott’s.

Applause breaks out for the alpha, betas, and omegas in the room awing at the raw display. Even a couple of married alphas coo at the beautiful display. This night is turning about to be exactly what everyone needed. A much-needed respite from dancing, a chance for multiple suitors to show Scott their worth, and an opportunity for the Betas and omegas to have control of the evening for once.

That is until a voice calls out to Lady Morrell, interrupting her closing thank-you for the evening, the voice of Alpha Hale. The viscount rushes into the room, weaving through the crowd until he reaches a surprised Lady Morrell. Stiles grits his teeth in annoyance. An entire evening without Alpha was almost complete but he should’ve known the man would find a way to make it about himself once more.

“Alpha Hale, I did not expect you,” Morrell confesses as Alpha Hale stands beside him. The heady scent of alpha is faint to his human nose but still noticeable in their proximity.

“I believe my invitation was lost in a scuffle this morning but surely you’d never deny a young man whom you’ve known five and twenty years the pleasure of your company?” Lady Morrell chuckles at the Alpha’s cheekiness. Stiles doesn’t bother fighting the eye-roll he knows the alpha will see. “Your footman, at the door, didn’t believe you would.” That smirk Stiles is growing quite tired of seeing is what pushes him to speak.

“Apologies, Viscount. you appear to be late again. We were just bringing the evening to a conclusion-”

“Surely Beta Scott has time for one more,” Alpha Hale says cutting him off entirely. “Would everyone like to hear what I’ve crafted?”

Scott nods his answer while the rest of the room cheers in agreement. Stiles shifts his hands behind him, clutching his fists together to force himself still. Alpha brings his gaze back to Stiles with his ridiculous smirk and Stiles simply nods rather than respond to the arrogant man. The alpha has made it quite clear he has no interest in love, so how good can his poem truly be? So he steps aside and lets the viscount take the floor.

Alpha Hale slowly unfolds a small piece of paper that shakes lightly when he holds it open. Stiles glares at the man hoping to scare him into messing up or uttering something incorrectly but the man keeps his gaze down.

“What is it, to truly admire someone? To look at them and feel inspiration,” Stiles holds his breath at the promising start so out of character for the man. “To delight in their beauty, so much so that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for them.” The alpha stumbles slightly on the last line and Stiles drops his glare to analyze the man before him with the utmost confusion.

“To honor-” Alpha Hale cuts himself off meeting Stiles’ gaze. He tries the words again raising his gaze elsewhere and stumbles once more.

Stiles watches the alpha stare down at the paper in silence with his heavy brow furrowed even deeper than usual, his usual confidence and easy stance long gone. The paper vanishes into his fists as the alpha crushes it between his own without finishing the poem and tosses it into the fire.

“My apologies. I cannot do this.” Despite wanting to see the viscount crash and burn, Stiles tenses in shock at the man’s display.

“I cannot claim these words as my own when they are someone else’s entirely; my brother’s.” Stiles almost trips at the true confession and the distraught expression on the viscount’s face.

“Truth be told, I’m not-this isn’t me. I’ve never been a man of poetry. Of flattering words that are beautiful and sweet because they are hollow unless they are accompanied by action. You can say beautiful words all day and not mean a single one if you don’t act upon what you say. I am a man of action, not words.”

Stiles’ heart pounds at the words and the truth behind them, at the desperate expression on the alpha’s face conveying his honesty.

“Beta Scott, I could stand here and pretend to be someone I am not. I could pretend to want the very same things as you but I’d be lying. I may not be able to offer the display of passion you would prefer and deserve but…when it comes to action and duty I shall never be found lacking, that I can promise you. And that is what I believe speaks much louder than any pretty words ever can.”

Stiles looks to his brother who is hanging from the viscount’s every word with glistening eyes. The viscount bows his head to Scott and moves away from the crowd and out of sight. Scott pushes off the couch to rush after him and Stiles grabs his arm before he can make it far.

“Did you hear that Scott, he cannot give you the love you deserve.”

“That does not make him a bad man Stiles, just an honest one. It is the mark of a true gentleman, just as father says,” Scott hisses at him.

Stiles flinches at his brother’s tone and the cold determination in his eyes. Scott doesn't ask for his response, removing Stiles’ hand and turning to go find the viscount despite knowing Stiles loathes the man. Panic swells within his chest at his brother’s decision, watching in horror as Scott makes his way to Alpha Hale the pair smiling at one another over their drinks. His chest thrashes in an effort to gulp down more air, as much air as possible without causing a scene.

The Viscount looks up from Scott and meets his eyes, that smile, that smirk sliding into place. A wretched, horrific gasp escapes his lips at the sight, at the understanding of how horribly he has failed his brother. Tears sting at his eyes as the viscount looks away and back to his brother with a more genuine smile than the one he just wore.

With a shaky breath, Stiles turns away from the scene, his shoulder slamming into an oncoming servant. Stiles hisses at the contact, his sound of pain hidden beneath the room's gasps at the collision. He steels himself for a moment and flees the room in search of privacy. Once there he forces his tears back and paces to get his breathing under control.

A soft knock alerts him of an amused Lady Morrell, “You should return to the party.”

“I shall be there in a moment.”

“It seems the viscount has gotten to you. He can be quite exhausting-”

“He is horrible. He is not for my brother,” Stiles snaps at the lady. “I will make sure he sees that, one way or another.” The last part is more for himself than for Lady Morrell. He has to convince his brother, he can't let Scott marry that awful man. 

“Some advice, Omega Stilinski,” he huffs knowing she’ll give it to him no matter what.

“When one is frustrated, it is much wiser to focus on one’s own burdens, not others. Trying to alter the results or endeavors of others almost always ends up being tiring and draining for oneself before we discover it has been a fruitless burden all along.” Stiles hates the bitter chuckle he lets out at the Lady’s remark along with the tears that are threatening to fall once more.

“I am more than aware I’ve made a fool of myself tonight, Lady Morrell, I do not need you to remind me. In fact, I do not need to hear it from anyone,” Stiles pauses to gather himself and his wits once again. “I do not care what a single person here thinks of me. Once Scott is married I will return home, alone, only too happy to never come back to this city again.”

He continues his pacing and his breathing exercises the moment he finishes, not wanting to fall into a panic in front of Lady Morrell. Stiles refuses to have an episode in front of her or anyone in this wretched city for that matter.

“I find it disheartening and agonizing to hear you say that you wish to be alone, at a mere one and twenty!”

“I will be a governess and I will be content as long as I know my brother is being taken care of,” he declares.

“Content,” Lady Morrell echoes.

“Are you so miserable, My Lady?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are alone yourself, are you not? Yet you are content.”

“Because I have lived a life,” Morrell scolds as she marches up to him. “I have loved and lost and earned the right to be content and free with my choices.” The tears come springing back at the Lady’s harsh tone and pitying eyes.

“Child, you and I are not the same and if you continue down this road you will most certainly never be like me. Be content.” Lady Morrell casts him one last disappointed gaze before she leaves him to his misery.

Stiles collapses the moment she leaves him, placing his head between his knees and gasping for breath between his tears to stop his panic. He cries and shakes until there is nothing left within him. No tears, no shakey breaths, nothing but a hollow feeling lies within him. He remains there for a short while until his breathing grows stable and he can hide all traces of his episode. Only then does he rise to rinse his face and take his place amongst the guests once more.

He stands stiff and emotionless beside his mother, listening and watching anyone and everyone except Scott, never uttering a word and ignoring two concerned gazes and one smug one. The smug gaze that he can feel boring into him for the remainder of the night whilst his brother’s concerned gaze comes and goes as he’s too distracted by his suitor.

- - - - - - - - - - -

One has to wonder what secrets the season’s diamond is holding near and dear to ‘his’ heart. And who shall ‘he’ choose to share them with? The Viscount ‘Hale’ perhaps? At least the elder ‘Stilinski’s’ opinion on the matter is no secret at all.

-Lady WhistleDown Season 2 Episode 2 (47m47s)

Chapter Text

Aubrey Hall-7 Years Prior

Derek presses himself further into the fallen tree, his rifle resting on the top as he looks down the sight. His father rests a hand on his shoulder, guiding him and encouraging him, but he misses yet again.

“At this rate, I shall never hit one,” Derek raises from his position with a frown.

“You know that’s not true son, there will more opportunities, and you will succeed.”

“I can already imagine what Isaac will say and Jackson, they’ll never cease to mock me,” he grumbles to his father’s amusement.

“Well, that gives you all the more motivation to keep trying until you succeed.” Derek groans at his father’s attempt to comfort him but falls silent at his request.

He points ahead and Derek follows his gaze to where another stag is grazing, blissfully unaware of their presence. Derek tucks himself out of sight behind a tree to watch his father raise his own rifle. Edmond pulls back the lever to drop a ball into the chamber with an easy exhale. The rifle presses into his father’s shoulder and does not shake or waver in the slightest, Derek watches in admiration as his father fires with confidence sending the stag into the dirt.

Derek cheers at the sight, “You must teach me how to do that father!” Edmond chuckles at his excitement and gestures toward the fallen deer.

“It’s about confidence far more than it is about skill son,” Edmond tells him as they return to their grounds. “You’ll learn with time, don’t be afraid Derek, I know you are more than capable.” He smiles at his father and the hand that slaps him on the back.

“You are always so collected father, nothing ever rattles you.”

“Your mother would disagree with that,” he turns to his father in confusion, “In order to be your best or to show someone your best, you must first embrace your worst and show them your worst. Only then can you truly be seen.” Derek understands his father yet doesn’t. Men are always supposed to be collected and composed, never allowing their flaws to overcome them, yet his father is telling him the exact opposite.

“Speaking of your mother, she would love those, they’re quite beautiful aren’t they,” Derek watches his father kneel beside the flower bed to pick the purple blossoms, his brain recognizing them but not able to remember the name.

He kneels down as well to grab a different kind, his sister in mind, “Laura will be quite jealous if we don’t grab her some as well.” Edmund agrees with a chuckle and sniffs the flowers he picked, swatting at a pestering bee.

“Ah,” Edmund curses, drawing Derek’s gaze. “The damn thing stung me.” Derek turns away from the flowers to see his father grunt once more, his knees buckling toward the ground.

“Father,” Derek cries as he catches him. Edmund’s face hovers beside his, swollen and red, his hand clutching desperately at his throat. “Someone, help us! Anybody, please!”

Edmond clutches at Derek’s coat while Derek’s mind reels with panic. He doesn’t understand what’s wrong or what to do except siphon his father’s pain. Even if all the pain leaves, it can’t heal him and Derek is terrified of his father’s fearful expression as he begs for air.

Talia appears over his shoulder, her stomach swollen with her latest child, and Derek begs for her help. Derek continues screaming for help as Talia drops beside her husband, taking Derek’s place. Talia cradles Edmond’s head in her arms while Derek flicks his gaze back and forth between his parents. His mother begs for Edmond to breathe but he doesn’t hold enough air to respond to her. Derek’s hands shake in the air between him and his father, frozen, and lost in the scene before him.

“Please do not leave me,” Talia whispers to Edmond, Derek’s chest caving in at the thought of his father truly dying before him. Derek strains his ears to find his father’s heartbeat beneath the sounds of his mother’s sobbing until eventually all he can hear is Talia’s screams of agony. Talia cries into his father’s hair, the man now truly gone, letting Derek’s eyes prick with tears. His father falls limp in his mother's arms, all because of a bee? How can a bee best an alpha Lycan in his prime?

“The other children,” Talia gasps, “They cannot see him like this, please.” Derek hears the other's heartbeats approaching his parents. “Derek, go,” Talia screams at him.

Stumbling onto his weak limbs, Derek turns away from his father, his younger siblings watching from the house steps. Every part of Derek, wolf, and human, want to howl in agony at their loss. A thread within snaps as he turns his back on the scene, a member of his pack truly gone, but he forces himself on towards his siblings. This isn’t about him anymore, it's about his family, and he must be strong for his family. Even if the feeling of his father’s alpha spark transferring to his soul is akin to being burned from the inside out.

- - - - - - - -

“My lord,” Derek stares out the grand doors to the spot his father fell. What had felt like seconds quickly became minutes and his mother’s hysterical cries still had not ceased despite his father’s body being cold for over an hour.

“My lord,” Derek turns to a footman calling to him, “My lord, might we start with the Arrangements?”

“Arrangements?”

“The minister needs to be called, My Lord, and the casket will need to be built. Shall we leave the body or remove it from his chambers?”

“Forgive me, my lord, but we also need to prepare the letters, for notice of his death.” Derek’s vision fades in and out with the multiple voices calling to him and asking him questions he has no clue how to answer.

A maid rushes from the stairwell where a sobbing Talia remains to interrupt them, “We should call a doctor, my lord, she’s still hysterical. This cannot be good for the baby’s health.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have your father’s keys, my lord, we’ve been searching and cannot find them. Never mind that then, we will gather your mother's things but we need to know which room to move her to.”

Derek can’t breathe. He looks from one helper to another in desperation, someone to tell him what to do, anybody that can just help him.

“Why would mother move,” he stutters, not understanding anything anyone is telling him.

“Because those rooms belong to you, my lord, you are the viscount, the alpha now.” Derek cringes at the title and the abrupt manner the footman speaks. He flicks his gaze around, his siblings crying amongst themselves, quiet and confused, watching their mother writhe in agony with no comfort for themselves.

Derek nods to the footmen, dismissing the lot, trying to stop the sobs from ripping him open like his mother, and gazes across the lawn at the flowerbed. The flowerbed with an assortment of beauties and one tiny patch of flowers he now recalls being Wolfsbane, the gardiner most likely not knowing how lethal such a delicate flower can be. His chest tightens with the urge to heave and gasp once more. He fears that once he lets out one sob the rest will never stop. 

Derek cannot cry, he no longer has the liberty to express his emotions so freely, he must be firm and reliable for his family. He must be the alpha since his mother relinquished that duty the moment their father fell and she gave in the grief. 

Chapter Text

Scott has kept his nose practically pressed into the glass since the moment they departed the city. Stiles smiles softly at his brother’s joy and pets Mischief who is sleeping on his lap.

“Perhaps I should wear my silks at dinner tonight,” Scott muses, finally turning away from the window. “Do you think Lord Hale will like them?”

Stiles fights the urge to bash the man and reassures his brother instead. “Of course, he will Scott.”

“Do not worry about the Viscount’s opinion so much Beta Scott,” Lady Morrell adds, “Asking you to come to stay at Aubrey Hall days before the other guests are due to arrive is a very good sign. Especially with all his family being here and wanting you to spend time with them. Even the Duke and Duchess will be in attendance!”

“Perhaps by the time of everyone else’s arrival, you will be announcing your engagement.” Stiles refuses to grimace at everyone’s eagerness and how true Melissa’s words might be and simply smiles at his brother once more.

“I’m sure he’s still assessing me mother, making sure I can be an appropriate Viscountess,” Scott declares.

“Yes, but this is also a time for you to assess him, Scott, to make sure that the Viscount is truly the husband you want,” Stiles reminds him for the hundredth time.

“Your brother is right, this is a time for all of us to pass judgment this week. All of us with open minds.”

Stiles sighs at Lady Morrell but agrees, “I will be on my very best behavior, I can assure you.” Scott grins at him in appreciation and Stiles refuses to be the reason that smile falls, even if it is caused by that dreadful man.

The moment Scott looks away from him Stiles lets his smile drop in favor of watching the countryside fold into view. Aubrey Hall slowly grows larger, the view quite extraordinary, with vines and florals climbing up its exterior walls. Even if he must be in attendance with only the Hale family for company at least it is out of the city. Stiles has always preferred the fresh country air and walks in the gardens to strolls in the ton. More places for him to hide and fade into the background.

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

Laura’s presence is accompanied by her baby and husband this time around. Jordan somehow looks even happier than Derek saw him last allowing Derek to be glad he gave up that grudge a long time ago.

Everyone coos and awes at her baby, no one has been around one in many years. Derek waves at the little man but has no interest in holding him. Talia, however, scoops him up happily trying to force him on an unwilling Cora. Little Mason begins crying the moment Cora is in sight saving Cora from holding him.

“So, brother, how eager are you to be here away from all the obnoxious suitors and their persistent mothers?” Laura takes her seat across from him, a smirk dancing upon her lips at what she thinks Derek will agree with.

“Not at all, sister,” Derek teases as he takes his own seat. “In fact, I have invited a beta and his family to join us today, rather than with the other guests.” Just like the rest of his family, Laura is unamused by the idea, she even looks angry at the admission.

“Derek has invited someone to join us, join our family,” Laura demands. Derek watches Laura’s face flicker through multiple emotions at the news until a grin tugs at her lips.

“That’s wonderful Derek,” Jordan praises from his seat beside Laura.

“I never would’ve expected it but I am excited to meet the person who has captured your heart. Tell me everything about them.”

Derek laughs at his siblings’ excitement after such disbelief but gives her what she asks for, “Beta Scott is kind, beautiful, and quite charming. However, he has the most obnoxious omega to ever walk the earth for a brother, who is obsessed with interfering with his prospects. So, I would like to ask you all to help me win over both brothers, so that I may have Beta Scott as my husband.”

“Well,” Laura huffs, “You must be enamored with him if you’re willing to ask your siblings for help!”

“Yeah that’s definitely what is it,” Isaac says softly from the couch.

“Don’t worry Derek, your favorite sibling is here to help you in any way possible.” All at once, every Hale sibling begins to argue over Laura’s remark while Laura cackles at their despair.

“My lord, your guests have arrived,” A footman calls from the doorway sending the siblings rushing out.

Malia and Liam insist on appearing first, Talia and her grandson following, then everyone else. Lady Morrell is the first to exit the carriage with a brilliant smile as she greets the two youngest Hales and moves to hold baby Mason. Derek chuckles at her eagerness to see her great-godson and remains on the steps to take in the scene. Talia moves to Lady Melissa with a warm welcome, grasping the woman’s hands and asking after their journey, Scott joining the pair.

Last and certainly not least, is Omega Stilinski, who smiles at his mother with a barely perceptible twitch of his lips. Derek watches the omega with a critical eye, the sight of his red eyes and distraught expression still pestering him. Not to mention the acrid scent of the omega’s embarrassment and agony that hung onto him the remainder of the night of the soirée. The smell and the sight of the omega acting so different from his usual self had Derek’s instincts begging for control that he barely overpowered. The omega steps away from the group to scan Aubrey Hall, a familiar quirk of his lips drawing Derek near and away from the steps.

“You’re smiling,” Derek announces as he approaches the young man. “I see my plan to win you over is already working.” The omega’s smile vanishes at his presence, replaced with an exhausted frown.

“I was smiling at the building and flowers, my lord, which you are now blocking.” Derek’s smile only grows at the omega’s jesting. He was afraid after the party that his fire had completely gone out because of Derek. Movement at their feet draws his attention. A fluffy and impressive-looking beagle is escorted to Omega Stilinski by a footman, the omega grinning at his companion.

“You brought a dog?”

“My dog, Mischief, he is an excellent judge of character,” the beagle sniffs his feet a moment and pulls back to snarl and bark at him. “See.” Derek sighs at the dog and his owner already off to a bad start.

“I can promise you, Omega Stilinski, that by the end of your stay, your opinion of me will have changed entirely.” Derek steps closer to the omega to get a better view of the fire igniting in his eyes. “As will Mischief’s.”

“With the way you frown all the time, I did not expect you to be such an optimist, my lord.”

“You must be Beta Stilinski,” Laura asks, interrupting their banter. Embarrassment wafts off the omega at the implication as he stumbles away from Laura and him.

“No,” Derek growls at his sister, Omega Stilinski flinching at his tone. “This is his brother, Omega Stilinski.” Laura looks between him and the omega a few times with her own brow furrowed.

“Omega Stiles or just Stiles is more than acceptable, Your Grace,” he greets with a bow. Derek looks away from his sister to gape at the omega for offering a casual name despite Laura being his sister. “Please, allow me to introduce my brother, Beta Scott Stilinski, Your Grace.”

A strange feeling tugs at his chest with how easy it is for the omega-for Stiles to be so casual and effortless when conversing with others. He watches Stiles speak to his sister with ease as Scott approaches with a timid smile. Derek moves from his place to stand between Scott and Stiles, gesturing to his sister with confidence.

“It is an honor, Your Grace,” Laura chuckles fondly but does not greet Scott back. Derek ignores her in favor of welcoming Scott to Aubrey Hall. “Thank you so much for inviting us Alpha Hale, I am looking forward to spending time with you and your family.”

He smiles at his hopefully, soon-to-be betrothed and looks back to his brother who is frowning once more with a sour scent. Derek shakes his head and moves away from the omega to escape his instincts while Talia asks everyone inside to be shown their rooms.

“Time to prepare for battle,” he hears Laura call their siblings.

“What do you mean,” Derek slows his pace to listen to the conversation between Stiles and his siblings.

“Please do not mind them, they are always so spirited in the country,” Talia cuts in, urging Laura away from Stiles.

“Then we will have that in common,” Stiles whispers to an excited Cora.

“Mother,” Derek calls out, keeping Talia from lecturing Cora. “I believe there is something I need now,” he adds once everyone else has gone inside.

“There is no need to rush such matters, my dear. Are you sure you want it now? You should take some time to get to know each other, the beta hasn’t even unpacked yet.”

“That won’t be necessary mother, Beta Scott will make a perfect viscountess, I am sure.” Talia doesn't reply right away, instead, she turns to the house, eyes scanning the stone with a distant expression.

“I hope you are acting with a clear mind.”

“For years you have wanted me to marry, mother, and now that I’m here you want me to wait,” Derek complains as he meets his mother’s gray eyes.

“I did not say you should wait, dear, I just want you to hold not a single doubt before you ask. For you to be certain.”

Derek stares at the spot his mother once stood long after she’s gone. He gazes at the ground hoping his father will miraculously appear where he once stood and help him ease the burden he carries every day. But he doesn’t appear and he won't. It’s just Derek and this is his decision, his burden to bear, no matter how much his family may not understand it.

Chapter Text

“Pall mall is not so much about the rules as it is the goal. At least, it it when us Hale’s play it,” Laura tells him as she stabs the ground with a small metal frame nearly hitting the statue right beside it. “There, that will teach Jackson a lesson I believe.” Stiles must look as confused as he feels, sharing a look with Scott that has the dutchess laughing.

“You want to hit your ball through every wicket, the first to do so with the last wicket is the winner. However, if you’re feeling particularly wicked, like us Hale’s tend to, you go try another strategy; use your turn to knock your opponents ball off course and as far away from the next wicket as you’d like.”

This time, Stiles joins the dutchess and her laughter, just the thought of sending someone careening off-course-a certain someone-brings him immense joy.

“But wouldn’t that be wasting a turn when you could go for the wicket yourself,” Scott asks. Stiles tucks his chin to hide his smile from the pair at Scott’s gentle heart.

“I assume it’s to infuriate your opponent Scott, weed out the competition?”

“A poor player plays the game, a wise one plays their opponent,” Laura adds sending Stiles a look of respect.

Stiles preens under the dutchess’ approval, already knowing they're going to get along quite well. “I have a feeling I am going to enjoy this pall-mall.”Scott-bless his heart-looks even more nervous by the information-but Laura takes it in stride, continuing her information for their benefit.

“Now, be weary of Isaac, he is a very solid shot despit his aloof nature, but he isn’t one for conflict so you don’t have to worry about him knocking you off course. Jackson on the other hand is-”

“Crafty,” Stiles tries to finish Laura’s rant.

“Very. He will strike when you least expect it and he can be vicious. Cora is usually consumed with the desire to defeat her brothers so she should’nt be of much concern to you. Usually, I try to make sure she is so lost in defeating Isaac and Jackson that she forgets about me.”

“And what of you, dutchess,” Stiles tries to her joy.

“I am an enigma who will reveal none of my secrets.”

“Right, of course, how foolish of me,” Stiles and Laura share another smile. “And what of the Viscount? Let me guess, a most ruthless, cut-throat player who will do whatever it takes to win.”

“Stiles,” Scott sighs at his hypothesis.

“Oh my, you seem to have truly gotten to know my brother, as you are quite correct.” Stiles looks to his brother who is frowning at the information and looking, by the minute, more nervous.

“Don’t worry, Beta Scott, my brother is a man of honor. Just not when it comes to pall-mall.”

Scott grins at the comforting statement, “I’m sure we will all have a very pleasant afternoon.” Stiles and Laura agree, sharing a smirk with one another that Scott doesn’t see.

But Scott is right, it will be a very pleasant afternoon, for them. Stiles will have an amazing afternoon when he destroys the Viscount.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Shall we toss a coin,” Jackson suggests as they’re all huddled around the case of mallets.

“Absolutely not,” Cora hisses. “Last year we said that youngest could pick first this year. So get out of my way.”

“We always go from oldest to youngest Cora, it is tradition,” Derek of course suggests this as he is the eldest playing. Stiles can barely stifle his giggles as he watches the Hale siblings argue over the order of selection.

“Isn’t this supposed to be just a game…” Stiles looks at a very adorable and confused Scott with an enormous smile on his face.

“Everyone please, you’re embarrassing yourselves. The right thing to do would be to allow our guests first pick and hit,” Stiles looks at Laura with a narrow gaze. What’s she’s planning, he has no idea, but he’s sure that this is a play of some sort. The Hale siblings agree with her though and back off the mallets with a defeated gesture.

“Please, Beta Scott, take your pick,” the viscount says to his eager brother.

Scott steps forward to grab a light blue mallet, the alpha praising the choice, while Stiles steps forward. With no hesitation, Stiles grabs the all black mallet and raises it from the stand. More than one Hale sibling gasps at the choice, eying him with some sort of reverence.

“The mallet of death,” Cora marvels.

“Would you look at that, brother?”

Stiles turns towards the viscount, which is where everyone else is looking, to find him a coil of rage. One hand covers his mouth and clenched jaw, while his other is wrapped firmly around him, his fist clenching at his side. Stiles looks at the mallet and back to the alpha, a wave of understanding crashing over him.

“Oh, is this your mallet,” Stiles quips. Derek shifts his weight from side to side at the question, finally raising her eyes to Stiles in a firm glare.

“Not at all, you are more than welcome to use it, guests pick first after all.”

“you threatened to beat me the last time i tried to use it-”

“You exaggerate,” the viscount shouts at his younger brother. This time Stiles can’t fight the laughter bubbling up within him at the viscount’s displeasure.

“I know some men cannot perform without their familiar tools, will you be alright My Lord,” Stiles needles. The Hale siblings all giggle at the remark, only Scott takes pity on the lord and gives Stiles a gentle nudge in warning.

“I can assure you, Omega Stilinski, I can play with any mallet. I wish you the best of luck,” Stiles hums at his reply, holding out the mallet to mock to man.

“Are we to stand here all day?”

Stiles takes his eyes off the eldest Hale to see Cora lunge for a mallet moments after her complaint. The elders all shout at her action but dive in themselves, pushing and elbowing one another to get their mallet of choice out as quickly as possible. Each one secures a mallet leaving the viscount with a faded pink one he grabs with a faint growl.

As much as he’d love to hate the day, Stiles loves it.

His family has always been a small and stressful one, always worrying over one thing or another, not having a chance for such games. Not only is the game of pall-mall enjoyable, but seeing the Hale siblings tease, jest, and laugh with one another is contagious. Despite their threats and desire to beat one another, the affection between the siblings is palpable, and easy to cling to.

Stiles quickly learns that he is quite good at the game, making one long shot after another to the amusement of the Hale siblings. Scott isn’t terrible but the intensity of the other players scares him off the same way it thrills Stiles. The viscount misses a shot and Stiles easily makes it moments later. To summarize, Stiles is crushing the viscount, and having fun. It’s the best day he’s had in years. That is, until Scott, is taking a turn, and the viscount steps forward to assist him.

Scott misses just barely but the viscount is quick to praise and reassure him. Stiles follows Cora ahead instead of eavesdropping, an attempt to be on his best behavior, with Laura beside him. Lady Morrell steps onto the grass in favor of cheering Cora on, hollering when the shot is successful, Cora flushed with joy at the shot. Stiles laughs at the sight, not expecting Lady Morrell to become so spirited especially for the younger sibling.

As the game progresses, so does the tension, each Hale’s thirst for victory growing. It takes nearly the entire game for the viscount’s ball to come to a stop right beside his while it’s also, his turn. With a giggle, Stiles skips towards his ball, ready to hit the viscount’s as far away as he can.

“Ah, here is your turn to best him,” Cora shouts.

“That’s not very sportsmanlike,” the viscount looks nervous as he stares between his sister and Stiles.

“I was told that being un-sportsman-like is the key to success in this game?”

“You are a quick study indeed, Omega Stiles,” Laura confesses.

“Are you prepared to lose, my lord?”

“I can assure you, win or loss, I will be unphased-”

“Is that so?”

“Stiles, please-” Scott whines from beside the viscount, his face pinched in embarrassment.

“Do not fret, Beta Scott, compared to my siblings, your brother has been a picture of grace this afternoon.” The sweet lie to his brother mixed with that ridiculous smirk is what drives Stiles to his decision. That stupid, smug man, and his ridiculous smirk.

Smirk about this, my lord.

“Then you shall not mind this,” Stiles places his foot atop his own ball to keep it steady beside the viscounts. With a wide arc of his mallet, Stiles hits his own ball into the Viscount’s sending in flying in the air and vanishing into nearby shrubbery.

“Stiles!” Ignoring his brother, Stiles stares at the viscount as he grapples for composure, finally clapping for Stiles once his facial expressions are under control.

Scott is next and his hit is by far his worst as it sails wide and nowhere near the wicket. Everyone still claps-manners not completely gone yet-and Scott smiles at them a very weak and small grin.

“I think I shall admit my defeat now, while I still have honor, excuse me,” Scott bows to the siblings and walks off. Stiles doesn’t worry, even as the viscount offers to join him, he knows Scott is just uncomfortable with the competitive nature of everyone else. Alpha Hale doesn’t leave with Scott though and comes back with a frown.

His attention is barely back on the game in time to see Jackson hitting his ball off-course where the alpha’s went, also disappearing into the shrubs. Fighting the urge to curse the man, Stiles glares at him instead.

“Perhaps you two should go fetch them, unless you’re ready to admit defeat now,” Stiles ignores Jackson’s words to glare at the alpha, desperate teo defeat the man.

“Of course not,” Stiles challenges the eldest Hale.

“After you.”

Snatching his mallet up, Stiles stomps across the grass in his ball’s direction, the viscount marching after him with another growl. Stiles ignores the man and uses his mallet to move shrubs and peer under the brush for his ball. The alpha growls at the plants, occasionally snarling when one hits him, such a typical alpha.

“Your better not have granted my brother’s victory,” the alpha growls at him, breaking the silence.

Stiles rolls his eyes at the man, “Because your victory is much more ideal?”

At a particularly loud curse, Stiles follows the man’s gaze to see both their balls in the center of a mud puddle.

“We could take them out, no one would know,” Stiles suggests.

“I would know,” the alpha trudges closer to examine their predicament. They stop at the ridge of the puddle, taking in their choices, but the alpha makes no move to retrieve it.

With a sigh, Stiles splashes into the mud and smacks his ball away from the puddle. “Your turn, my lord, unless you’re worried about soiling those fine boots of your?”

“Do not worry about my boots,” the man hisses as he joins Stiles in the filth. With one swing, the viscount’s ball joins his ashore, the man smirking at Stiles and turning away himself.

Stiles moves to follow the man, taking one step, then two, but his back foot refuses to lift. “Help,” he cries. The viscount turns to him his usual furrowed brow. “I’m stuck.”

“Just pull,” the alpha sighs.

Stiles bites back his sarcastic reply and tries again, “I am trying, but it seems to be quite stuck.”

The alpha stares at him with a blank expression, probably listening for the lie, so Stiles wiggles a little more to show how stuck he is. With his own sigh this time, Stiles stretches his hand towards the alpha, another demand for assistance that the alpha accepts this time, tossing his mallet onto the dirt to assist him.

Both of the alpha’s hands encase his, tugging him forward with a little too much strength.

“Ow,” Stiles gasps at the rough tugging on his arm.

“Do you want my help or not,” the alpha snaps at him.

“Yes, but try to remember I am only human, I am breakable!”

With a nod of his head, the alpha steps closer, even wrapping his arm around Stiles’ core to shift his weight a little. They manage to lift his foot up just enough to shift his balance and before Stiles can celebrate, his weight crashes into the unsuspecting alpha, the pair crashing backward into the mud. In his shock, Stiles holds his breath for a moment and exhales a soft chuckle at their situation.

“It is not amusing.”

“I never said it was,” Stiles replies.

The pair lift off their backs, now sitting beside one another in the mud, and look at eachother. Stiles doesn’t bother fighting the laughter building within him at the situation. The alpha regards him with usual blank stare for a moment then a slow smile expands across his face. His own joy grows at the sound of the viscount laughing a true, raw laugh, a sound he’s never heard before. looking at one another, they collapse into giggles together, the discomfort of the mud not stopping their joy.

Stiles is the first to move, pushing himself up and into a weak stance above the alpha. He looks down at the man struggling and offers a hand to pull him up. Keeping hold of Stiles’ hand, the alpha assists the both of them to the safety of the firm grass shore.

“Since we are now long past formalities,” Alpha Hale hesitates to expel mud from his hands. “What must I do to win your approval?”

Stiles turns to the man with a sigh, sad to see their interaction of joy and laughter ruined so quickly. He was expecting this question over their stay but not so soon.

“I don’t hold it out of spite, my lord, I just want my brother is be happy. It is my duty to steer him towards the greatest possible happiness. If that is you, then you can have my approval, but I must be absolutely certain,” Stiles shifts his gaze away from the multi-colored eyes staring back at him with such intensity. “I thought you too would understand, seeing as you have sisters to protect and brothers.”

“It’s different, I’m their guardian, it’s my duty-”

“I am the same for Scott in every way that matters, regardless of my rank.”

“Then could you please, do me the favor of leaving our past behind us, and give me the chance to prove that I can be enough for your brother?”

Stiles regards the man before him. A wealthy, handsome man, who is set on having Scott as his partner. A man willing to ask him, an omega, for his approval even though it is not a requirement to many in society. He scans the alpha and his earnest and expression and cracks.

“Favor or not, I will show no mercy on the sporting field,” Stiles breaks their staredown to hit the alpha’s ball off a tree-branch and below a withered bench. “Ha! Your turn, my lord.”

The viscount makes no move for his ball and stares at the bench, his body tense once again. Shouting of victory draws Stiles attention through the shrubs where he can hear a victorious dutchess exclaiming her joy.

“Lord Hale, do you not wish to retrieve your-”

“The game is over.” Stiles doesn’t have time to flinch at the man’s cold tone as he storms off immediately after replying.

Stiles watches him go for a moment and turns towards where he hit the ball. His curiosity takes over as he makes his way towards the looming tree and fragile bench. Rounding the stump, a marble pillar stands erect, its base adorned with all sorts of flowers. Guilt burrows into his chest at the familar structure, the front bearing the name of the last viscount; Edmund Hale. The joy of their truce and their shared laughter leaves Stiles as he stands before the viscount’s memorial.

Chapter Text

Aubrey Hall- 6 Years Prior

Derek opens yet another door in search of his mother, finding her sitting alone, in her black dress.

“Mother, there you are,” Derek lets out a relived sigh at finding her, shutting the door behind him in his approach. Talia does not answer him nor look at him, keeping her gaze on her hands folded atop her lap. “You look well,” he tries.

“I slept, bathed, took a walk, saw the children,” Talia mutters her gaze still away from him.

“Perhaps you could join us for family dinner,” Derek urges. Talia cringes away from him at the request, Derek’s stomach plummeting, his hope shriveling.

“Derek-”

“I know you miss him, we all miss him, but we need you. The little ones they-"

“I am doing my best, Derek, this is my best.” Tears fall from his mother’s eyes. “I have to force myself to visit the children. All I can think about it how poor, baby Malia will never know Edmund’s laugh, his smile, or how it feels to be hugged by him.” Talia is sobbing now, heavy gasps shaking her as she recalls his deceased father.

“Whenever I see her, all I can think about is how this baby didn’t do me the kindness of killing me so that I can reunite with my husband.”

Talia meets his gaze and Derek is pained by the blank and numb look in her eyes. She looks at Derek with no pity, no love, just agony. He had hoped if not for him, that the others, his young siblings would be enough to draw his mother from her shell but there’s nothing. No care or love is left within her just grief.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Derek stares at his father’s headstone with a familiar detachment. He could never hate his father, the extraordinary man he was, but he hates what became of his mother for the time after his death. He hates how lacking he is in comparison and that he’s supposed to grow older than his father ever was.

“Derek,” he raises from his knees at his mother’s voice.

“I can take my leave,” he tries but Talia insists he stay. Derek looks at the large bouquet of flowers Talia deposits onto the ground before the pillar looking calm and happy despite the scene. How different she is now to that shell she was then. She sits on the bench after she places the flowers, gesturing for Derek to join her.

“Dearest,” she starts, “I hate seeing you so weighed down. Courtship, proposal, choosing your person, your mate-” Derek looks at her in surprise for using the lycan term after all these years.

“This should be a time filled with joy.” Talia smiles so easily and broadly at him while speaking of finding his mate though hers is six feet below them. As if the loss of hers didnt turn her into a shell of a mother that left wading through his duties and despair with no one to guide him.

“I am fulfilling my duty to the family, mother, I am content. That is more than most can hope for,” he softly replies to her distaste.

“Just because you have always put this family first does not mean you have no room for love to come first for once, Derek.” Derek shakes his head at her simplification. “Your father took his role and duty in life seriously, yes, but he also loved so deeply. I know that is what you truly want-”

“You are quite certain you know exactly what I want,” Derek interrupts, his tone firm.

“As a boy you were always so kind and soft, loved to joke and smile but after your father died…” Derek bites his tongue and the urge to snap at his mother. “After he died a wall went up inside you, you grew cold towards love, acted as if it was a form of weakness. That is not you, Derek, I do know that.”

Derek keeps his gaze ahead of him on the patch of grass his father remains buried under. His mother doesn’t understand but she should. That feeling, losing your mate, that unrepairable hole it leaves within you…

“You deserve the feeling, the love I had, and more, my dear-”

“Love shall have no place in my marriage,” Derek is vehement with his response.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I see a partner, to share a pleasant life that is untouchable by heartbreak and the ravages of grief.” Derek raises his gaze to his mother as he says this, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding or argument. Her face shifts from concern to pain as she understands the drive behind his emotions.

“It was if you weren’t even there, like you were a ghost, mother, after he died. While I was cursed and plagued with every waking moment of the aftermath. I could never, will never allow myself to be the cause of such pain onto another. No matter how cruel and heartless everyone else may find me. That is my duty.”

He does not wait for Talia to respond. She doesn’t say his name or try to defend herself as Derek rushes away from her and the conversation for which he is glad. There is nothing that she could say to change his mind on the matter.

He spends the of the day evading his mother and siblings, even Scott, not wanting to scare the beta off with his foul mood. Derek manages well until the mandatory dinner where Isaac reeks of wolfsbane liquor and Jackson constantly attempts to silence him. Luckily, everyone else seems distracted enough to excuse his brother, except Stiles who giggles at him on occasion.

“Are you enjoying your stay here, Beta Scott,” Laura asks, saving the room from more drunk Isaac.

“The city is lovely and all but I do enjoy the peace of the country and your family home is quite splendid,” Derek smiles at the beta and his diplomatic response.

“I do agree with you, Beta Scott, though it is much more peaceful without the entire family in residence.” Each sibling makes a face at him, except dazed Isaac, but Scott laughs at his joke.

“I can’t exactly compare your large family to mine, but my brother and I were very difficult as children and loud.”

Derek rests his gaze on Stiles, who is glowing beneath the candles as he whispers with Cora. “I can imagine.” He tries to pull his eyes away but the omega is radiant and his gaze keeps landing back on him despite the beta beside him.

“However, even as kids, Stiles always had my beat interests at heart, he has always bore a heavy responsibility for our family,” Scott adds.

“That sounds remarkably similar to you, Derek, don’t you agree,” Laura challenges, drawing his attention away from the omega.

Only for a moment does Laura keep his gaze, then he’s back to looking down the table, Stiles now looking back at him with a quirked brow.

“Perhaps it’s time for a toast,” Lady Morrell calls over Isaac spilling another glass of wine.

“Yes, to your guests,” Talia agrees.

“Or, to other pressing matters,” Lady Morrell adds with a pointed look in his direction. Derek looks back, the whole table staring at him now, and rises. Stiles drops his gaze to the table, Derek watches him swirling his glass of wine around to avoid looking back at him.

“A toast, to thank the Stilinski’s for joining us,” he starts, Stiles still not looking at him. “It’s been a pleasure having you all here to watch my second annual loss at pall-mall that I can assure you, will not be repeated.” The table laughs at his attempt to lighten the air, except Stiles, who still won’t look up at him.

“And a special thank you, to Beta Scott,” he turns to the man who smiles up at him over his wine. It has been such a pleasure getting to know you these past few days and there is a question I shall like to ask you.”

Even if he wasn’t trying to listen, Scott’s heart accelerates enough to be heard by Derek, and most likely, the entire table. Another heartbeat reaches his ears, also pounding, and the faint scent of fear follows it, distracting him. He glances down the table to Stiles’ seat.

The omega is pale, with a faint gleam of sweat on his brow, and his wide eyes dart back to his wine glass the moment he catches Derek watching him. Stiles’ heartbeat grows louder in his eyes, drowning every other sound, and even his own thoughts. Derek’s own heart picks up for a reasons he can't decipher. Perhaps fear? Fear over worrying the omega down the table and causing him any pain? Whatever it is, it’s enough to shift his words, change his mind.

“I would like to ask you to please,” he stares down at Scott with what he hopes is a genuine grin, “refrain from telling anyone in London about yesterday’s horrific loss.” The joy falls from Scott’s at his statement, the beta fumbling to gather himself while his scent is laced with embarrassment. “To the pleasant days ahead!”

The table is a slow chorus of replies that Derek ignores in favor of gulping down his wine. He listens for Stiles’ heart, relaxing as it slows down with each breath.

What did he just do?

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

Scott is crying. He’s crying because of Alpha Hale yet he can’t find it within himself to be mad at the alpha, to be mad at Derek. Stiles doesn’t want him to propose and he didn’t, but Scott…Stiles traces Scott’s wet hair with his hands, rubbing the oils in and trying to ease his headache the only way he can.

“You did nothing wrong-”

“I must’ve down something! The rest of the ton are on their way to join us, if he wanted to propose he would’ve done so,” Scott sniffs at the reminder, “What if I have missed my chance.” Scott’s voice breaks at the end, breaking Stiles’ heart with it. “I should’ve done more, I should’ve been better!”

“I have ruined everything and I feel like a fool,” Scott whines as he buries his head into Stiles stomach. Tears come to his own eyes at seeing his brother so upset and hard on himself.

Stiles removes Scott from his stomach so he can drop down and hug him properly, “I hate seeing you like this. This isn’t your fault Scott, it’s his.”

“I really thought he liked me,” Scott whispers.

“You are the diamond of the season. You will have no shortage of suitors or choices with, or without the viscount, I assure you.”

Stiles should be angry at the viscount for hurting his brother, so why is he relieved? Stiles hates himself for being happy at his brother’s expense and spends the rest of the evening holding his brother and sparing no effort in cheering him up.

Chapter Text

His morning horseback ride is another place Stiles delays his thoughts, not wanting to understand what it is exactly that he is feeling yet. So he explores the country and finally comes to a halt in the gardens, where, of course, Alpha Hale is out walking. A servant takes his horse, preventing him from hiding, leaving Stiles no choice but to greet the man.

“My lord,” he calls.

“Omega Stilinski,” he greets back, watching Stiles approach. “Your brother, is he…”

“He is in his room,” he interrupts, not liking the foreign expression on the alpha’s face. “He is not feeling his best this morning.”

“I did not mean to disappoint him last night,” he replies, stepping in front of Stiles. “By not declaring myself. He shall not be disappointed for long.” A thanks, Stiles was about to bestow, shrivels within him. Alpha Hale does plan on proposing he just didn’t last night for some reason.

“My brothers were, as you saw, and with everyone staring, my feelings could not come out,” Alpha Hale adds, falling into step with him.

Stiles stops at his words and rounds on the man in annoyance, “Now you’re feelings are too strong for you? That is what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Omega St-”

“No! Do not feed me lies. All you’re doing is toying with my brother’s emotions. The only feeling you are capable of harboring is-”

“Do not move,” Stiles balks at the alpha’s request.

“Do not tell me what to do,” he snaps at the man.

“Stand still damn it!”

The alpha’s vicious tone paired with his approach to Stiles’ face is what keeps him silent. The alpha-Derek-has his eyes trained on Stiles’ neck, a look of fear overcoming his face, his hazel eyes staring at his neck with wide eyes. Stiles lowers his gaze to see a bee resting on his coat above his collarbone, near the edge of his shirt. Alpha Hale ‘s grip on his arms increases and Stiles grows impatient with his games.

“It is just a bee,” Stiles lifts his hand to scare the insect off but the alpha panics.

“No! Do not, you must leave it,” his hands tighten even further on Stiles’ arms, drawing a wince from him, but the bee moves anyways, and stings him on the side of his neck.

Stiles, having been stung before, barely winces at the feeling, only irritated with the viscounts behavior. He looks at the alpha again, the man’s face devoid of any color, his eyes dancing across Stiles’ face and neck.

“Are you hurt,” the alpha asks, drawing himself closer to Stiles face. “Can you breathe?” Alpha Hale’s tone and expression go more frantic the longer stiles remains silent.

“It was only a sting,” Stiles grits out, “of course I’m fine.”

“Are you certain?” Irritation falls to make room for confusion. The alpha looks terrified, truly terrified for Stiles’ sake, all because of a bee. He does not understand it.

“My lord,” he tries but the alpha wont calm down.

“No, no, you cannot! Don’t-” Stiles shushes the man, trying to soothe him, or at least stop his heavy breathing.

“I am unharmed,” Stiles says softly as places his hand into the alpha’s and rests it onto his neck, his own hand holding it there. “I am unharmed,” he repeats.

Stiles keeps his gaze locked with the alpha’s, breathing in and out, trying to get him to match his breathing. Moving his other hand, Stiles places the alpha’s hand on his own chest, using his hand to press it down. Together they breathe in and out, the alpha's breathing slowly growing steady once more.

Alpha Hale leans his weight into Stiles, their bodies pressed together from chest to thighs, their foreheads resting onto one another. Stiles is now the one breathing uneven with the scent of the alpha flooding his sense while the man’s stubble grazes his cheek. The alpha leans in further, his nose nudging Stiles’, his heavy breathing tickling Stiles’ lips. His eyelids flutter shut at change in position, his mind too far away to warn him of what is happening. Stiles’ shuts his eyes at the feeling of stubble on his lips and the soft graze of the man’s lips.

A horse neighing has the warm body touching his vanish in an instant. Stiles opens his eyes, the viscount a couple paces away with look of horror, of disgust on his face. Before he can even dream of speaking, the alpha turns away and disappears from sight. Stiles himself runs away to hide, resting against a nearby wall to collect himself and get his breathing back in control.

Chapter Text

“if the ancient greeks were members of the ton, they might have added to the Olympic pentathlon one additional event; the hosting of a country visit.”

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 4 (0m20s)

Derek is lost. Lost to his raging thoughts, his duties, and the eyes of one he regrets ever having looked at. He's exhausted and thinking of anything and everything except what his mind has labeled 'the garden incident' that took place earlier that morning. There's no time to think about it, to fret about something so minuscule, with the week that lies ahead. IT was a moment of weakness caused by a moment of danger, nothing more.

Today the ton will arrive and Derek has to find time this week to propose to Beta Scott. No ifs, and, or buts. He has no time to think about trivial matter’s.

That leaves Derek in one of the studies with Isaac, sitting far too low and improper in a chair, and gazing at the far wall with more intensity than the rest of the Hales are willing to interrupt. Isaac is as peaceful as ever, no longer plagued with a headache from his joust with wolfsbane, and painting behind Derek. With a sigh, Derek plucks an apple from a bowl on the table, crunching into it with bitterness. 

"I was painting that," Isaac grumbles at his easel but Derek ignores him. Derek has bigger problems than painting a bowl of fruit. 

"Do you think it was a mistake," Derek starts, "Having the Stilinskis come a week early?" On any other day Derek would be amused by his brother growling at him but today he finds it annoying. "I fear it's made matters far more difficult than they needed to be." 

"There is nothing easy about the game of courting and marriage, brother, but if one is going to participate in it why doesn't one do it in the fresh air," Isaac accompanies his statement by lifting the study window to allow a breeze to come in. 

Derek isn't a fool, he knows his brother is just trying to get rid of him, not that he can blame him. If Issac knew of all the things that plagued him of his concern for his wandering eye…but he can't tell his brother. He's the oldest, the alpha, this is something he must take care of on his own. 

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

Despite the late morning hour, Stiles is still in his nightshirt, curled up on the window ledge staring out across the greenery. His hand, the traitorous bastard, yet again grazes his beesting on its own accord. Stiles lets it while his brain goes through every second of his encounter with the Viscount over, and over again. The way his hand fit so well in his own, the vibrancy of the man’s tri-colored eyes up close, and the scrape of his whiskers on Stiles’ bare cheek. How easily the viscounts large hand rested on his slender neck…

“Is the sting still,” Stiles jumps at the presence of his brother.

“What do you mean,” Stiles hopes that Scott is too distracted by the racing of his heart to hear how nervous he is because of the question.

“Your bee-sting, is it still bothering you? Every since the sting you’ve been distracted, I assumed it was still bothering you…” Scott is dressed for the day in his usual vibrant attire and his face is pinched only with concern rather than sadness.

“What? No, I was just thinking of father and hoping he’s well. Hpow are you feeling today,” Stiles raises towards his brother desperate for the conversation to move elsewhere. “Are you still upset over the viscount’s lack of action?”

Stiles rushes to his luggage to hastily dress for the day while Scott sighs and gathers his response.

“His mind seems elsewhere lately…” Stiles nearly drops his clothes at the remark, his brain giving him yet another flashback to that morning. “I thought I was going to be announcing my engagement at the ball, not dreading it.”

“You can still enjoy the ball, Scott, don’t be silly,” Scott groans at him but Stiles persists, “And we’ll be back in London in a few days where you will still have countless suitors waiting on you!”

“Countless suitors that will assume something is wrong with me since the viscount had me alone with his family for a week and had no interest in proposing.”

“Scott-”

“He is the one I want Stiles, Alpha Hale is the one I want, not those other suitors,” Scott shouts.

Scott is in a tense line of frustration, his jaw clenched, his eyes firm as he gazes at Stiles. He wants the viscount, desperately, and how Stiles thought he could sway him off the man…he was being foolish and blind. Scott wants the alpha and Stiles can do nothing but be there for him.

How he wishes he could lie down, curl up in a ball as he did as a child, and cry. Cry over losing his brother to a man he hates and cry over the fact that maybe he doesn’t hate the man at all and even likes him too much. More than a brother-in-law ever should if Scott gets what he wants.

Stiles looks away from his brother to focus on his clothes and fighting the burn behind his eyes, “I’ve been thinking about it all night and I think I know why he hasn’t made his declaration, and I think it’s because of you,” Stiles sways at the statement, nausea tearing through him with a vengeance, “You hate one another!”

Stiles doesn’t sigh in relief but it is a close thing, “Hate is too strong a word, I think.” Releasing the linen shirt from his ruthless grip, Stiles sees the shaking of his hands from the close call and grabs another item of clothing to hide them.

“All this time you’ve helped me, shown me how to get him to fall in love with me, now I need him to fall in love with you!”

“Scott-”. If only he knew what a terrible idea this all was and that Stiles should actually stay as far away from the viscount as possible.

“Please Stiles, you have to see at least something appealing about him, anything at all,” Scott pleads. Stiles flashes back to the scruff of the man and the frantic look in his eyes when he thought Stiles was in danger, despite his supposed hatred for Stiles.

“Yes, I could see how he can be quite appealing Scott,” Stiles stutters, his face growing warm.

“Then help me, brother, please,” Stiles looks into Scott’s soft brown eyes, “because I haven’t given up hope and I need you. I will not give up.”

Stiles smiles and nods at his brother, Scott beams at him, thanking him gratuitously. The moment Scott hugs him, Stiles lets his returning smile drop, settling for a look void of emotion. He’s not sure what he feels, though it is not hate-not in the slightest-and that scares him. Stiles is scared of his feelings and the havoc they may wreck but he will always do anything and everything he can for his brother, regardless of his…feelings.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, Stiles dressing in formal attire for the day, then embarking to the lawn where the guests have begun to arrive. Usually content to mingle, today Stiles avoids it as long as possible, instead wandering the grounds and bowing to the occasional guest. Scott was quick to abandon him in search of Alpha Hale, to assure him that he is not upset and still very interested.

It’s while he’s maneuvering through the crowd on the law that he’s spotted, Scott calling out for him, the viscount sitting next to him at a small table. Having no choice, Stiles approaches the table, the alpha’s eyes watching his every move. He greets the man, the alpha greets back, then they sit in unbearable silence. Usually, Stiles is the one to fill the silence but he can’t find it within him to bother with the viscount so close.

For the first time, in a long time, Scott is the one to break the silence, “Did you tell the viscount about your bee-sting?” Stiles chuckles at the situation he’s found himself in and pats Scott on the shoulder affectionately.

“I was stung by a bee,” Stiles muses to the alpha who is looking at him with a heavy gaze.

“Ah,” the viscount replies, his eyes flickering between Stiles’ eyes and his neck.

“But I am well.”

“Ah,” the viscount sighs as if his well-being is music to his ears. The alpha breaks his gaze, staring off at the patrons, Stiles mimics this, wanting to be anywhere else.

“You know, Alpha Hale, Stiles was telling me how much he admires the grounds and how eager he is to see more of them,” Scott exclaims, yet again breaking the silence.

“I was?”

“Perhaps you could give him a tour today,” Scott suggests, looking quite pleased with himself and his plan. The viscount looks ridiculously uncomfortable with the idea, finally sharing a common thought with Stiles.

“Scott, I’m sure Lord Hale is occupied with other guests, the ton having just arrived and all,” Lord Hale agrees with Stiles immediately.

“A shooting party, actually, with all the alphas. We’re set to leave quite soon,” Lord Hale adds.

“You must know that Stiles is an excellent shot,” Scott praises. Stiles smiles at his brother’s desperate attempts even though he is a good shot.

“Of course he is,” Hale sighs, following with a condescending chuckle.

“Are we all set for the hunt, brother,” Lord Isaac Hale asks as he approaches their table. Stiles ignores the brother, glaring at the viscount and his dismissal of Stiles’ shooting. Lord Hale raises from his seat, confirming with his brother and preparing to depart.

“Oh, wait! Please, Stiles, tell him how you use to shoot all the time,” Scott pleads to the viscount’s amusement.

“Beta Scott-”

“Stiles is just being modest,” the viscount turns away from Scott to give his brother a mocking grin, getting a rise out of Stiles despite his attempt to remain uninvolved.

“do you not think it true,” Stiles asks the alpha.

The alpha ignores Stiles to reply to Scott, “Perhaps your brother can aim straight on the practice fields, but I’m sure he would struggle managing in-”

“Why are you assuming I’ll struggle, my lord-”

“No, I only mean to say-”

“What? Because I am an omega then I must be a deficient shot?”

“No,” the viscount’s smile drops at Stiles’ attack. “No, I did not say that.”

Over the viscount shoulder is his brother, trying to hide his amusement at his brother’s suffering, only adding to Stiles’ confidence.

“Perhaps you did not say it, my lord, but you thought it.” Lord Hale gapes at Stiles’ boldness, looking between everyone around them, ending on Stiles with exasperation.

“Omegas do not hunt.”

“They don’t? Or are they just not allowed to hunt,” Lord Hale fumbles for a response yet again, his brother grinning broadly at Stiles in encouragement, while Scott tries to save the conversation.

“I am sure Lady Morrell has a spare servant who can chaperone,” Scott suggests with his usual bright tone. “What fun you’ll all have and a chance for the two of you to get to know one another better!”

“I think it’s an excellent idea, Beta Scott,” Lord Isaac Hale adds to the Viscount’s horror.

“Brother, we’re on our private lands, I’m sure we can make an acceptance. Perhaps Omega Stilinski can uh, you know, teach you a thing or two.” For the first time that morning, a real smile tugs at Stiles’ lips, at the viscount’s suffering and at the chance to go hunting as he does with his father. With that, Stiles is set on joining the hunt, whether they want him or not.

Chapter Text

“if the ancient greeks were members of the ton, they might have added to the Olympic pentathlon one additional event; the hosting of a country visit.”

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 4 (0m20s) Continued...

“If anything shall go wrong, I shall blame you,” Derek hisses to an amused Isaac.

“Relax, perhaps this is your chance to finally win him over, ever thought of that,” Isaac leaves him with that thought, trotting his horse further ahead to mingle with the others. His absence gives Omega Stilinski the chance to trot up beside him. Ignoring the omega, Derek calls out for the others to fall right, toward camp.

“Why are we going right, there are clear tracks leading left,” Omega Stiles glares at his unamused expression. “We could miss the herd entirely if we go to camp now.”

“If we do, I promise to offer myself up for your personal use as target practice,” Derek jests.

Warmth floods his core at the omega’s smile and slight laugh at the offer, and his ‘very well’ that follows. Derek doesn’t fight his own grin but keeps his gaze planted ahead.

An awkward and unusual silence falls over the pair, one so foreign to their usual dynamic that Derek finds himself offering conversation to end it rather than an exchange of not-so-secret glances between one another, the other always getting caught.

“So where did you-”

“It is a rather-” Derek stops, the omega having spoken at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Omega Stilinski, I did not mean to interrupt you,” Derek adds, hoping the omega doesn’t curse Derek in his usual manner for interrupting.

“Please, I think we’ve come far enough for you to call me Omega Stiles, my lord,” Derek forces all his attention onto the man beside him. “No apology needed sir, what were you about to ask me?” The omega’s tone is soft, gentle even. It’s first time Derek’s been on the receiving end of it beyond his fit from the garden. Despite the tone, the omega won’t look at him, being kind yet distant all at once.

“Well, Omega Stiles, if it’s alright to call you by that, then may I request for you to call me Alpha Hale, not my lord?”

“You may,” honeyed eyes finally meet his, their usual spark flaring upon meeting his gaze. “We shall see if I comply.”

He can’t help it, a full-bodied laugh escapes him at the remark. How it caught Derek by surprise whilst also being so in the character with the man, he isn’t sure, but Derek is enamored.

“Very well,” Derek replies, the omega smiling briefly at him. “I was only going to ask where you learned to shoot, hunt, and track as I am now learning.”

Stiles hums at the question, shifting his gaze forward again, “my father, he was a member of the royal guard. He was stationed in Poland briefly, it’s where he met my mother, my mother who was part of a royal family of sorts. Their family was gracious enough to let me hunt with them and teach me to hunt, even after my mother died.” Derek’s grip on the reins clenches at the information.

The woman here isn’t his mother? Than…

“Careful, Alpha Hale, you could strain yourself if you continue to think so much.” Stiles, for all his lightness of tone, looks tense and uncomfortable with the topic. He’s trusting Derek with this information and if he reacts wrong it may scare the omega away.

“So, Lady Melissa?”

“My stepmother. My mother died when I was eight and a few years later he remarried a widowed Lady Melissa and her Lycan son and brought the pair to Poland. Away from the gossip and oppression that plagued her past,” Stiles looks at him, the gaze vulnerable, and gives Derek a timid smile.

“I spent many days over the years hunting with my mother’s side of the family. They are very kind to me.” A look of longing eclipses the omega’s face at the mention of the family and Derek is keen to distract him.

“Well, then it sounds like you will do quite well on the hunt with us,” Derek starts, looking over his shoulder at the servant escorting Stiles. “At least better than your servant on that horse.”

Derek and Stiles laugh together, the sight of the servant steering the horse sideways, barely keeping to the trail. Basking in the sound of their laughter together, Derek takes the omega’s distraction as a chance to admire him, the way the sunlight dances onto his freckled skin in between the maze of trees. He knows the omega is beautiful but each time it seems to distract him in an entirely different way. With his admiration comes silence, more exchanged glances, and a pink hue on the omega’s cheeks.

“Alpha Hale-”

“Yes,” Stiles hesitates, eyes flicking all over his face in agonizing silence. This time their gazes remain connected, their horses carrying them forward allowing their focus to never stray. Derek fears he’ll get lost in those rich brown eyes yet he wants to nevertheless look away at the same time.

“Brother,” Derek flinches at the call from Isaac, trotting towards him without another glance back. One look from the omega and he may never leave.

Stiles is lost in the maze of alphas after the party dismounts their steeds. The party to quick to embark, and the herd nearly vanished entirely, while every ounce of his self-control is tested as the wolf would prefer to hunt. This is, however, not one of those hunts, and he must remain un-shifted. Isaac jests with him about the sunshine, how at least their day isn’t haunted by rain.

“A group of alphas enjoying the sunshine, what a marvelous hunt,” Omega Stiles scoffs, appearing by his side.

“Yes, I’m sure you’d prefer the darkness Omega Stiles, but we do not share that sentiment,” Derek jests, chuckling at the glare he receives.

“I’d prefer to not blindly follow a guide, use real instincts to hunt, even lycan ones to realize we’re nowhere near the herd,” Stiles snarks.

Derek clenches his rifle, keeping his claws at bay, “You are convinced we’ve lost our prey?” Derek offers his hand, the omega standing before a fallen tree opposite him.

Stiles scoffs, rolls his eyes at him, and pushes himself up and over the length with ease. While doing so, a portion of his shirt un-tucks from his trousers, revealing a slim portion of glistening pale flesh with a spattering of hair leading down. Derek can vaguely hear the omega inform him of the area being too open, deer liking forest edges over the open field, but he remains frozen. The sight of the omega’s stomach bare and so close to him burns within his brain, his control slipping and even his eyes flashing.

“Uh, yes, perhaps you’re right…”Derek shakes his head to force himself out of the memory of smooth skin and an irresistible patch of hair, “We should carry on.” Avoiding the omega and his gaze, Derek struts past the man, following the group further into the trees.

“There are always other deer, if we lost one, perhaps we’ll catch the trek of another,” Derek turns to gesture the omega on, to find nowhere there. “omega Stiles?”

Uttering a curse, Derek orders Isaac to keep the servant with him while he looks for the troublesome omega. Disregarding propriety in favor of his annoyance with the omega, Derek marches his way through the brush, straining his hearing for the always erratic heartbeat he correlates with Stiles. Following his ears and nose, Derek finds the young man crouched behind a fallen stump, gun raised into the thicket ahead.

“Omega Stiles, what were you thinking-”

“Would you be quiet,” Stiles snaps at him.

Derek growls at the remark, marching to the man’s side, “Of course you would go off on your own, leave everyone behind, it is very fitting of you.”

“I do not need to hear what you think you know about me.”

“Not think, know, I think I have quite a clear picture of who you are,” Derek settles down beside the still poised omega, his natural scent indescribable as most personal scents are, yet its headiness nearly makes him dizzy. To match his scent is the familiar smell of lilies, most likely an oil or perfume, but it folds so seamlessly into Stiles’ scent. Lycans always have the underlining scent of pine, or trees, and dirt, children of the hunt. Stiles’ scent is so far from it, light, fragrant, almost hypnotizing.

“I knew from that first morning, with you out riding, that you have no respect for rules.”

“What is it with you and rules,” Stiles’ snarky tone flares Derek’s frustration.

“Yes, well, perhaps if you had more respect for rules then we wouldn’t have been put in such a difficult situation this morning,” Derek scolds.

Stiles groans and drops his gun position to glare at Derek properly, “And pray, tell me, what difficult situation are you referring to?”

“Your-” Derek looks down at the omega’s neck for a moment, meeting his eyes once more. “The morning in the garden.”

“When I was stung,” Stiles gapes.

“After which, you put my hand to your neck,” Derek growls at the bored expression on the man’s neck.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him yet again, “Yes, I did, to show you I was unharmed. You were overcome with panic.” The omega’s tone and face are both mocking, practically amused by Derek’s frustration and panic.

“Indeed I was not overcome.”

“Then you looked at me!”

“You looked at me,” Derek argues, his voice raising at the omega’s callousness.

“Yes, I looked at you, but not the way you looked at me!”

“Pray tell me, how exactly did I look.”

In their arguing, the pair grew closer, now a mere inches away. Stiles sighs at his arguing, gaze dancing across Derek’s face beneath his furrowed brow. Derek does the same, admiring every inch of the stubborn omega so close to him, his gaze landing on his plump, and ridiculously pink lips that are always berating him. Rustling foilage removes him from the trance, Stiles muttering that something is here, Derek’s own ears picking up the animal’s heartbeat. Stiles raises his rifle up once more, resting it on the fallen tree. Derek looks over the man and his improper hold of the rifle.

“You’ll never land a shot by holding the rifle that way.”

“I know how to hold a gun,” Stile scoffs.

“Evidently, not a British one,” Stiles sighs at his insistence. “Look here-”

“I do not require instruction,” Stiles tries to shift away from his teaching but Derek persists, resting his hands on the omega’s arms.

Despite his sighs, the omega doesn’t fight Derek further, so he takes it as acceptance. Leaning into Stiles’ space, Derek presses his chest into the omega’s back. Stiles raises the rifle once more letting Derek push his arms into position and slot the rifle firmly into their aligned shoulders. The omega leans into his embrace, their bodies fitting together seamlessly while Derek’s hands rest on Stiles’. In position, Derek turns to look at him, his lips grazing Stiles’ ear. He can just see Stiles close his eyes at the sensation, Derek’s own pinching shut as his senses are filled with nothing beyond Stiles.

All Derek can think, see, or smell is the omega. The thundering of his racing heart beating against Derek’s own chest, the warmth of his hands clasped beneath his, and the soft yet growing smell of arousal that steadily grows from the omega. A soft growl escapes him at the smell, Stiles sighs at the sound and relaxes into him further, the arousal growing stronger. Derek is on the brink of abandoning gentlemen's behaviors to burrow his nose in the omega’s neck that is just before him, tempting him, calling to him.

“This way, I saw movement over here,” the voice of an alpha close enough for even Stiles to hear springs them apart.

With the party comes his brother calling out to them. Derek is quick to abandon the temptation and rush to his brother’s side. Isaac quirks a brow at him, his scent also filled with arousal, and Stiles’ just enough for him to pick up on it. He shakes his head in warning, joining the alpha’s and putting some much-needed distance between himself and Stiles.

Chapter Text

The moment Aubrey Hall is within sight, Stiles excuses himself, rushing to his room where he slams the door shut and struggles to slow his racing heart. Stiles rests his head against the cool wood of the door, his mind racing with the ghostly touch of the alpha’s hands on him and the warmth of his breath fanning onto Stiles’ ear. Arousal flairs within his gut at the memory, the way the alpha was so gentle in touching him despite his strength, and the way his gaze dropped to Stiles’ mouth.

“How did it go,” Stiles shouts at Scott’s appearance, the sound of the approaching thunder hiding his presence.

Running his hands over his damp face, Stiles turns to his brother, “We did not shoot anything. Perhaps if the others had listened to me-”

“Not the hunt Stiles, the viscount,” Scott clings to his shoulder with a massive grin.

“I think, it went well,” Stiles whispers, focusing on removing his damp hunting apparel.

“So the two of you finally warmed to one another,” the hope in Scott’s voice pierces his heart.

“Yes, I believe we did,” Stiles replies, smiling at Scott as genuinely as he can manage.

“I knew you would! Thank you brother, keep doing what you are doing,” Stiles nods in understanding. Scott collapses onto his bed with giggles, everything he wanted finally falling together, while Stiles is plagued with disgust in himself and his emotions.

His guilt keeps him restless, tossing and turning for hours in bed until he concedes defeat, forcing him out of bed in search of a haven; a book. By candlelight, he finds his way to a beautiful study with an expansive collection. Thunder clashes with the fortress of Aubrey Hall, rain not ceasing its attack either. Both are the perfect weather for reading a good book.

Wearing only his night shift, his chest is exposed and most vulnerable, the small blanket he found to wrap around his shoulders not assisting much while his thin pants barely fight the chill. Growing irritated with the slipping blanket, Stiles tosses it onto a nearby chair, grabbing another book from his spot on the ladder to find an ideal one.

The creak of the door opening startles him into snapping the book shut to look at the intruder, “Alpha Hale…” he can barely make out the man in the doorway, the bright light behind him obscuring his features, but Stiles is too familiar with his thick frame.

“I did not mean to frighten you,” if only he realized Stiles’ heart always beats this fast at the sight of the alpha, “I saw candlelight and feared I forgot to extinguish one.” Stiles nods, knowing the Lycan can see him in the contrasting light without difficulty.

“No,” Stiles mumbles, “only me.” Now interrupted, Stiles begins to dismount the ladder, current book in hand, but the door remains open.

“Could you not sleep,” Stiles looks back to the alpha, the way the light filtering in silhouettes his flimsy nightshirt. “If your lodgings are uncomfortable I can-”

“No, it’s just the storm,” not a lie but not the complete truth. Enough to trick a lycan into believing it’s the truth. “My mother used to read to me during storms, they make me think of her, miss her…” Stiles wanders over to the window, watching the rain trail a thousand paths against the glass.

Alpha Hale leaves the door open, approaching Stiles, his hand outstretched. Stiles places his book of choice in the alpha’s large palm, watches those hands caress the book, and spin it between his fingers.

“This is my father’s library, these books were some of his most prized possessions…” keeping his eyes on the alpha, Stiles takes the book back, losing himself in the agony of the man’s expression.

“How did he die,” Stiles winces at his prying. He could never resist his curiosity.

The alpha finally meets his gaze to reply, “He was stung, by a bee.” A smile filled with irony and longing tugs at the viscount’s lips. Stiles’ heart almost stops at the information. The garden now made all the more sense and he was so dismissive of the man’s fear, how horrified he must’ve been…

“My lord, I am so sorry…I-” Stiles, for one of the very few times in his life, is lost for words. He’s dying to know more, ask more, to just understand…but he knows the pain of losing a parent far too well to be unkind with his curiosity.

“To see such a great man, an alpha, overcome by such a small creature…just because it had contacted wolfsbane,” Derek sighs at the memory, his brow pinched at the mere thought. “It was humbling, to say the very least.”

Stiles aches with the desire to comfort him, hug him, and tell him how much he understands despite being so different. Stiles wants with every fiber of his being in that moment, wants the man before him, however he can have him. He flicks his gaze from those all-knowing eyes to the firm jaw encased with hair that stops just before the slightly larger, plush bottom lip, and the thin defined top one. He’s felt that scruff on his cheek before, he wonders how would it feel while they kiss, if it would burn deliciously while their lips consumed one another.

The alpha’s nostrils flare, inhaling Stiles’ scents-the smell of his arousal. A shutter breath leaves his lips and the alpha steps closer, his hazel eyes burning with a tinge of red on the outside sending another flair of want curling into his gut. A flash of light gives Stiles the delectable view of the man growing closer by the second. The crack of the thunder that follows reminds him of where he really is and who this man is supposed to be with. Scott.

“No, this is, we cannot-”

“It is all right,” Derek mutters. Stiles frantically shakes his head, clutching his book and looking toward the door.

“I shall bid you goodnight,” Stiles mumbles, his body begging his mind to just, stay.

Alpha Hale moves with him for a moment, acting as if he’ll force Stiles to stay, but his hands remain clenched by his side. Stiles' want only grows at the reaction. An alpha, alone with an omega who smells of arousal, and he lets him go without a touch or command. Or, perhaps, he never intended to touch him and it’s all in Stiles’ head.

Chapter Text

"This, of course, is the week of Lady 'Hale's' annual Hearts and Flowers Ball, the year's most coveted invitation in the country, and no event better designed to show the might and mettle of its host." 

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 4 (0m38s)

While Derek loathes being left to his own thoughts, it’s always when he needs to think and come to peace with his own mind, that he is interrupted. It varies which sibling will be the one to pester him, his mother of course in the rotation, yet Laura seems to be the most consistent with her meddling. Whoever said marriage makes one’s life busier, less time to dive into familial matters was sorely mistaken.

His mother’s engagement ring lies within its velvet box, the box warm and soft against his large hands. The ring is simple, seeing as it’s just a proposal ring, allowing for another ring to be chosen later, this one shifting to the partner’s right hand. It’s a small gold ring, with small pearls making up a four-petaled flower. So small and simple a piece that is filled with so many memories…

“Brother,” the bright tone of Laura isn’t what Derek was prepared for so soon.

Sliding the clasped box into his coat, away from her prying gaze, “Sister.”

“Mother has the ball set for you,” Laura remarks while Derek sifts through his pile of papers.

“Because surely mother did it all by herself and you had no part,” Derek teases.

“Yes, well, our plan doesn’t have to rely on yours if you’re not ready yet…” Laura trails off, giving Derek the look of a sibling that wants you to confide in them.

Derek ignores, sipping his coffee and continuing to maneuver around his papers. Laura sighs at his lack of compliance, no doubt ready to switch her tactics.

“Beta Scott is sweet, very endearing, I’m sure he will make a perfect husband.”

“And you still don’t like him,” Derek sighs at his sister, exasperated with her disapproval of a perfect mate.

“I did not say I don’t like him,” Derek meets his sister’s eyes, “I just wonder if you truly know each other well enough. That is my concern.”

“Is that not what marriage is for, Laura?”

“Yes, but, you should still have an understanding of one’s character before choosing to marry,” Derek rolls his eyes away from her, “Similarities are also very important, more important than you realize. You can build off of them.”

Derek’s patience wavers with his sister’s meddling. This is a duty, not a privilege, similarities and character alignment are not important. Derek requires a viscountess. Nothing more, nothing less, and that is that.

“Truly Derek is there none, no one at all that you share similarities with,” Derek clenches his jaw at the question, but does not reply.

“How was your hunt with Omega Stiles yesterday, you haven’t mentioned it once,” Laura muses, trying for a casual air. Derek’s hands clench his current papers at the mention of the omega.

“And where is your dear husband? I thought married life would have you too distracted to meddle in mine,” Derek growls. “Do not concern yourself, sister.”

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

Scott is radiant, as usual, and in good spirits. The ball has commenced, all the other guests spinning and twirling amidst the blooms as they arrive. Stiles is on Scott’s right, Lady Melissa and Morrell on the left, standing at the top of the ballroom stairs to take in the splendor. The magical air is quickly snuffed out by the appearance of Alpha Hale requesting to be Scott’s first dance of the night. Scott agrees, taking the alpha’s hand and approaching the floor, the alpha not once looking at him despite their…talk the night before.

Gathering his wits, Stiles lets the pair go and stands beside Lady Morrell on the balcony, trying to enjoy the view once more.

“Have you been enjoying all your alone time with the viscount,” Stiles feels as though he’s been slapped at the question. “I’m referring to yesterday’s hunt.” While her tone is genuine, something in the Lady’s eyes unsettles him, the woman always seems to know more than she lets on. Lady Morrell seems to know everything at times.

“It went well, I take it,” the lady asks, discontent with Stiles’ lack of reply.

“Yes, very well,” Stiles answers satisfying the lady who nods and descends the stairs.

In a unique and foreign form of torture as Stiles watches Scott and Alpha Hale finish one dance and fall into another, all while Stiles stands alone to the side. After what feels to be an eternity-in reality is only two long dances-the viscount leaves Scott’s side allowing the beta to join his side. Scott holds a steady flush and smiles while he tells Stiles of their dance and how the viscount is getting him a lemonade. Stiles smiles politely and compliments when needed to appease his brother, still feeling restless and irritable himself.

“Two dances Stiles! He would not request two dances if he has no intention to ask for my hand,” Scott declares.

“I am quite happy for you, Scott.”

“You need to dance with him.”

“Excuse me,” Stiles hisses, not caring if his tone is too harsh.

“If he is going to declare himself at the end of the ball like I hope he will, then he needs your blessing. You can give it to him while you dance,” Scott radiants joy, no doubt proud of his ‘plan’. “You are ready to give him your blessing, right?”

Stiles looks at his brother. The puppy-like eyes, the dimples, and the crooked jaw, the happiness he emits at the mere thought of marrying the viscount. His brother is so happy and while Stiles should be happy for him all he can feel is the tortuous twist of his gut that he doesn’t fully understand. Why can’t he be happy for his brother? Alpha Hale has more than proved himself to be more than his first impression and yet…

“This could be my last chance, Stiles…” pinching his eyes shut in a last desperate plea for guidance, Stiles comes up empty yet again.

“Beta Scott, your drink,” Stiles doesn’t look at the viscount, just watches Scott and his joy to see the man.

As if he ever had a choice in the matter. He will always do whatever he has to do for Scott, regardless of his wishes.

“Alpha Hale, my brother and I were just speaking,” Scott pauses for Stiles to interject but he's frozen, begging for a way out of this situation. “Stiles wishes to take to the floor.”

Stiles refuses to look at the man, his gaze planted across the hall on a bloom of lilacs, craving to be a blossom himself.

“Ah, well I’m sure there’s someone, perhaps my brother-” Stiles winces at the prospect.

Yes, let’s find some poor sap to dance with the lowly omega, we’ll force them if we must.

Stiles’ thoughts spiral at the insult. How obvious it is that no one wants to dance with the omega who doesn’t know how to be quiet, who argues with everyone and scares off suitors. As if he needs the reminder.

“With you, Alpha Hale, he wants to take the floor with you,” Scott adds, his smile already dimming at the visconut’s lack of eagerness. Scott doesn’t let him answer. He takes the lemonade glass from the viscount to free his hands and smiles between the two.

Stiles can’t find it within himself to give a faux smile to the alpha, most likely looking as morose as he feels. The alpha stares back at him with his usual blank expression and furrowed brow, neither saying a word.

“Omega Stiles, may I have this dance,” the alpha finally asks, holding his hand out for him.

“You may, my lord,” the alpha’s brow furrows at the return of ‘lord’ over alpha but remains silent.

Without looking, Stiles can feel his brother’s excited gaze from the side, his scent probably swelling with pride. Alpha Hale doesn’t look back at Scott once, which surprises Stiles, surely this must be torture for him. The Alpha takes his position and the dance begins.

They shift around one another, gazing over their shoulders, their eyes never straying. Alpha Hale’s gaze is intense yet not intimidating. He looks at Stiles as though he is the only one in the room, his hazel eyes piercing Stiles’ soul in their intensity. His brow-which is always furrowed-is relaxed, his expression one Stiles can’t identity beyond being slightly fond. It confuses Stiles and leaves him short of breath. To be the sole subject of the alpha’s attention always has an effect on him. He can’t imagine what it would feel like to be the sole interest of such a man.

Even with his gloves on, Stiles feels the warmth of the man’s palm burning into his own each time they touch to spin. As the dance progresses to their hands locking as they step closer, chest to chest, Stiles feels the warmth a hundred times stronger with each step they take into one another’s space.

After the arches, one final arch Stiles’ back is pressed into the alpha’s side, the man’s arm tucked around his back to keep hold of his hand. Stiles hates himself for allowing a short gasp to leave his lips at the heavier contact. There’s no way the alpha missed it with his face now mere centimeters from Stiles’ own. Surviving the short spin in close proximity, Stiles sighs in relief with the next step separating them, their next moves at arm’s length. This is then, of course, followed by the traditional waltz stance, Stiles having to rest his hands on the alpha’s shoulders, the alpha’s on his waist.

Alpha Hale’s eyes have lost their intensity, peering into his with a look of desperation and fondness. Stiles fights the urge to look down, at those lips, and that scruff that haunts his daydreams, losing himself in the alpha’s beautiful gaze. He’s saved from temptation by another spin, thus resulting in his back pressed firmly into the familiar chest. Another sigh escapes him at the familiar contact he experienced the day before on the hunt. Finally free of the man’s gaze, Stiles gathers his control while staring at the patrons around them.

“Is there something you wish to ask me, my lord, in regards to my brother,” Stiles whispers, not keen on having an audience.

“If I were to ask for his hand, would you give me permission,” he whispers back, the hot breath fanning Stiles’ ear. Their feet shift them to face Scott, Stiles looking at his brother smiling and waving to him from the side, so eager for everything to fall into place.

“I just want my brother to be happy…”

“And do you think I can make him happy,” Stiles hates this question.

“That is for you to know, not me,” Stiles sneers. “Can you make him happy?”

Alpha Hale doesn’t answer, even as their steps shift back to waltz position and Stiles feels his temper rising.

“If your silence is any indication that you are reconsidering-”

“Is that what you want,” Hale interrupts, his eyes desperate, “For me to reconsider?” Stiles scans the man’s face in confusion. The alpha leans impossibly closer as if he’s ready to hang onto every word, every expression Stiles holds.

“It does not matter what I want,” Stiles insists, his tone weak. Alpha Hale’s expression shifts, looking, dare he say, hopeful…

“I do not think that is true.”

Stiles, starting to panic at the alpha’s change in opinion of him, blurts out what he hopes will help, “I am returning to Poland after Scott marries.”

“You will abandon him,” Hale growls, only adding to his confusion.

What does he want from him? To stay, to leave? Give his blessing or refuse? No matter what I say it’s wrong in his opinion, so what does it matter?

“Far from it, my lord. Scott will be married, he will not be alone, and he will no longer need me,” hurt and anger flash across the man’s face. “If he no longer needs me, there will be no reason for me to stay,” Stiles stresses, his hands dropping away from the alpha. “This was always my intention, my plan, my lord.”

Stiles bows, the dance finally coming to an end, but his words seemed to have only made matters worse. The alpha looks, for lack of a better word, distraught, at Stiles’ plan. A myriad of emotions overcome the man’s face until he gathers his neutral expression and flees the dance floor. Stiles doesn’t bother watching the man go, knowing there is nothing he can say or do to appease the man. Scott wastes no time in rushing over to him.

“Where is the viscount going,” Scott demands, appearing before Stiles in a fit of anxiety.

“I do not know,” Stiles mumbles.

“Well, what did you say to him,” Scott’s face pinches in fear at whatever he sees on Stiles’.

“I shall go find him, okay?” Ignoring Scott’s protest or agreement, Stiles weaves through the people, in search of the viscount.

Having only his human senses, Stiles struggles with picking a room, choosing one where a soft thud is heard. Upon opening the door, Stiles is greeted by the same study as last night, Alpha Hale pacing behind his desk.

Slipping into the room and sliding the door shut, Stiles questions the man, “Why are you so distressed?” The viscount doesn’t answer right away, instead, he paces more, storming back and forth with a matching stormy expression.

“When will you leave,” he demands, finally looking at Stiles, his expression desperate yet again. “Immediately? Right after your brother is married?”

Stiles has not felt so confused and lost over a conversation in many years. Having been raised with lycans and his father, he’s become quite accomplished in reading people, and analyzing their characters but now…now Stiles is at a lost when it comes to the man before him that he can’t even begin to understand the cause of his stress.

“I would presume so, yes,” he explains.

Alpha Hale grits his teeth at the reply, leaning over the desk, peering up at Stiles through those thick eyelashes of his. A short silence falls upon them, the alpha dropping his head between his arms, gazing down at the desk.

“you will not concern yourself with finding a match before you leave?” Confuses makes way for frustration at the question. Yet another who assumes he must be married to be happy since he’s just an omega after all.

“Why would that matter concern you,” Stiles challenges.

“It seems you will find any excuse to stay away from your brother. You do not like me, yes? that is it, is it not,” The alpha growls, approaching Stiles in frustration.

Tears prick his eyes, shaking his head in refusal. He doesn’t hate the man, if anything he likes him far more than he should, but he can’t tell him that.

“Of course I do not like you,” Stiles gasps.

“Then tell me why,” the alpha’s sharp tone drops into a pleading one, pinching Stiles’ gut. “have I done something to you? Why is it you dislike me so?”

His volume increases but his tone is riddled with sadness, not anger, that it snaps something within Stiles.

“Because you vex me,” Stiles shouts.

“And what is it, you think, that you do to me?”

“What,” Stiles emphasizes. “What do I do to you?”

A bitter chuckle escapes Alpha Hale at the retort, the man shaking his head and stepping closer to Stiles with each breath. Stiles’ own breathing grows erratic at their growing proximity, a dark desperate look back in the man’s eyes.

“You hate me,” he whispers, his breath fanning Stiles’ face and making him shiver. He nods yes but doesn't reply. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, I hate you.”

“You’re lying,” the alpha purrs stepping close enough to graze Stiles’ nose with his own.

“I do, I hate you,” staring at Stiles’ chest, the alpha shakes his head once more.

“Lying.”

Stiles drops his gaze to the man’s mouth so close to his own. He could lean in, just a little, and see how those lips truly feel.

“I am an alpha,” the man sighs against Stiles’ lips.

“And you have the heart of my brother,” he whines, hoping the reminder will break them of this spell.

“And my heart is with your brother,” Hale replies, moving his face in to rest his lips on Stiles’ ear. “Say you do not care for me,” Stiles wants to moan at the drop in the alpha’s tone and the sensation of his beard scathing against him yet again.

“Tell me you do not care about me and feel nothing,” Hale purs, “And I will walk away and never ask you again.”

Their bodies remain separate, a tiny gap, minus their grazing cheeks. Stiles presses his forehead into the alpha’s temple, sighing at the additional contact, wishing he could press his entire body to the man.

“I feel,” Stiles tries, his brain fighting his every effort to refuse, to lie again. “I feel…” their faces shift just enough for their lips to graze, stealing Stiles’ breath once more.

This is it, he thinks, this is the moment I ruin my future prospects and Scott’s happiness, this one kiss that I am far too desperate to think reasonably for.

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

Derek is drowning in Stiles’ scent in a way he wishes to for the rest of his days. Lily lingers but gives way to the pure want and arousal wafting off the omega. His instincts beg him to burrow into the scent, bury himself in the omega’s entire being and never let go. To bite that slender and pale neck with his mating bite.

“I feel,” the omega whimpers, a growl radiating through his chest at the delicious tone of his voice. “I feel…” Derek shifts so their lips just graze one another, still giving the omega a chance to refuse and push him away.

Waiting a few more seconds for the omega to decline, Derek gives in, ready to press forward and finally take that mouth, make it his own.

“Derek, are you-” Stiles flinches away from him, spinning towards the intruder.

Laura stands in the doorway, looking rightfully mortified, “I am so sorry,” she squeaks and rushes out away from the room. Casting one final look over his shoulder, Stiles looks terrified, his scent flooded with pain because of him yet again. Derek leaves the omega behind, chasing after his sister to clarify, or get her to remain silent.

Chapter Text

Derek finds Laura much like the way Stiles found him, agitated and pacing in the sitting room, a glass of whiskey clutched in her grip.

“It is not what you think,” Laura chuckles at his weak attempt.

“I am trying, very much so, to forget about it entirely.”

“Laura-”

“You are courting his brother,” she snaps, drawing Derek short.

“Yes, I have every intention of bringing it to a point,” Derek confesses.

Laura’s face crumples at his insistence not liking his answer as if it’s not the right one.

“Why, Derek,” she begs.

“Why? Because I am courting him, and I have decided.”

“the same way I decided I was marrying the prince last year only to end up with the duke because you caught me with him in the gardens. A shockingly similar situation to yours at the moment, wouldn't you say?”

“Nothing about the two are similar!”

“Only that the two of you were alone and quite close together,” Laura snarls.

“Except that nothing happened. Nothing, happened, Laura.”

Laura scoffs at him, “It is so clear that you have affections for Omega Stiles. The two of you cannot seem to stay away from one another!”

“Because he is aggravating,” Derek bellows, his claws extending and eyes flashing. Laura looks at him as those he’s lost his mind, not having seen him lose control since they were children.

“Oh really, is that what I just witnessed? Aggravation,” Laura looks at him in disbelief and wonder. Derek collects his breathing, drawing his claws and eyes back while Laura remains amused.

Derek refuses to answer her childish argument, grabbing his own glass of whiskey and downing it. He follows with another as Laura watches him, deep in thought.

“I know that this is not as you wish it, but you must be honest with yourself,” Laura pleads, taking his hand into hers. “Because one way or another, someday these feelings will come to the surface and consume you,” Derek scoffs this time.

“And what feelings are those, sister?”

“Love, of course,” Derek stiffens at the word.

Derek has long since decided he wants no love in his marriage, that his marriage will be a business deal, a partner. Love? Love is what destroys you, is what keeps you broken and unable to eat with your children because the agony of losing it consumes you. Derek cannot go into marriage with love when he has no intention of being around and living any longer than his father did. Love is what Derek dreads not what he craves. Derek pushes away from his sister, straightening his back with the confidence of his decision.

“Then I know what I must do,” Laura smiles in relief at him, thinking she knows what he means to do. She has no idea at all.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sleep evades Stiles for the third night in a row. Rather than risk running into anyone, especially the viscount, Stiles stands on the front balcony of the first floor.

The tears have ceased their attack, the remnants of their journey still marked on his cheeks. Stiles wipes his eyes for the hundredth time, trying to erase the evidence and get a grip on his emotions to no avail. He aches with his own betrayal, how close he was to ruining Scott’s happiness, and the way he longs to pick up where they left off.

A sharp tap of a cane sends Stiles’ heart lurching. Spinning around, Lady Morrell is staring at him, in her evening apparel, hair in a loose braid.

“Lady Morrell, what are you still doing up,” Stiles asks, trying for casual.

“I could ask you the very same,” she replies, joining Stiles at the balcony edge. “It is quite cold out here…” her judgmental gaze is back, analyzing Stiles and his expression.

“I did not want to wake Scott, I’ve been tossing and turning more than sleeping recently.”

“I assume you still have not told your brother about the inheritance scheme,” Stiles hates the use of the word ‘scheme’ but doesn’t know of a better word for the situation.

“I have not. I fear I have waited too long to tell him now, that there is no point.” Stiles looks to the woman who irritated him so much upon his arrival who he is now desperate to confide in.

“Lady Morrell, I fear that I have ruined Scott’s chance of a proposal from the viscount,” Stiles’ voice trembles, his tears ready to flow once more.

“Because the two of you cannot get along, yes?” Despite her question, Lady Morrell holds an understanding in her eyes, somehow knowing it could very well be the opposite. “why, when you are so close to getting what you want, what you need for your family’s survival, what Scott desires more than anything, are you getting in the way.”

The words are a sharp blow to his heart, their ideal intent, he’s sure, but agony nonetheless. Tears flood his eyes and rain down his cheeks as he searches for his answer. Why is he doing this? this is everything they need and want and yet…yet Stiles is ruining it for all of them, especially Scott who he always vowed to protect and put first.

“I do not know,” his words wet with his tears and pain. “I do not know what to do,” he cries.

“There is only one thing to do now, be honest,” Stiles shakes his head in panic. “Be honest with your brother but most importantly, yourself. Tell him how you truly feel.”

“About my…dislike for the viscount?”

“About whatever is it you feel,” she scolds. “Be careful, Stiles, I am going inside.” Stiles waits for the woman to leave before collecting himself and his emotions once more.

Stiles spends another hour, maybe two, on the balcony before he tries to return to his bed. He tosses and turns for a short while but eventually falls into a dreamless sleep. Morning comes with more anxiety, and Stiles is eager to pack his belongings and get as far away from Aubrey Hall as he can. Scott is silent and morose in his packing, no doubt disappointed by the lack of declaration, and Stiles is too plagued by guilt to comfort him with lies and false sentiments.

One by one, families and their carriages depart until it’s finally their turn. The Hale family’s two youngest, Lady Talia, and the dutchess stand beside Aubrey Hall’s doors, waving families off. Stiles bows to them all, even the younger siblings who smile at him, the dutchess watches him with a blank expression that leaves him unsettled. Ignoring her gaze further, Stiles moves forward, prepared to enter their carriage and flee.

“I am sorry things did not turn out how you wanted them to, Scott,” Stiles whispers to his distraught brother.

“We did everything we could, it is not your fault Stiles. The viscount clearly does not feel for me the way I feel for him. Perhaps they are elsewhere…” Lady Morrell meets his eyes at Scott’s last words.

Scott reaches to step into the carriage and Stiles finds the courage within himself to speak, “Scott wait, there is something I have to tell you,” Scott’s eyes flood with concern at Stiles’ tone. Stiles winces at his brother’s care and concern for him, knowing he’ll hate him after he confesses.

“Wait-” a voice calls from Aubrey Hall. Scott looks away first, then Stiles, to see the viscount rushing down the steps towards them.

Stiles’ heartbeat races at the alpha’s approach. Excitement and trepidation battle within him at the appearance of the man, not knowing why, or what he’s doing there but desperate for him all the same.

“Might I speak with you,” Alpha Hale asks upon approach.

“Of course,” Stiles urges.

“That was for Beta Scott,” Stiles feels the color flee his face at the remark, cold fear seeping onto his flesh and curling into his heart.

“My lord,” Scott mumbles, the viscount dropping down onto his knee before Stiles’ brother.

“Beta Scott,” the alpha hesitates.

Stiles knows he isn’t alone, that he is seen, and acknowledged even, but he’s never felt so invisible. He’s sure that if his hearing was also enhanced he could hear the ominous snap of his own heart breaking. A sharp gasp of pain leaves his lips as the words of the proposal words are lost to the ringing in Stiles’ ears. Scott looks at him for confirmation barely a moment before turning back to the viscount and smiling his adorable broad smile.

Surely, Stiles ponders, this is what it feels to be shot or stabbed, the flaming agony that rages in his chest. Stiles’ breathing turns ragged with the effort to keep his tears at bay, to not make a single sound, and just exist while he breaks within. Agony. That is all Stiles can feel or see…pure, devastating, and paralyzing agony.

Chapter Text

“The frenzy of competition. The thrilling delight of hazarding your all. I am referring not to the line of London’s luxurious gaming halls but to a gamble with far higher stakes. Matrimony. For once that particular wager is placed, it cannot easily be undone. A fact which, I am sure, is met with both regret and sheer relief.”

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 5 (2m35s)

In the scuffle of joy and celebration, Stiles makes his escape to suffer his episode away from prying eyes. Not that anyone would care or notice his absence anyways.

He’s not entirely sure where he is at the moment, a random room for him to hide in, and cry in. A wail tugs at his throat, begging to be released, to ease the tension within his lungs but Stiles refuses to let it out. Even if he feels alone, he’s still in the home of Lycan’s who could easily hear him cry out. The last thing he desires is to have anyone come rushing in asking what’s wrong. He can’t tell them it feels as though he’s been stabbed or had his heart torn from his chest, now having to watch its captor stomp on it without a second thought. Stiles cannot afford the luxury of wallowing in his agony.

What a fool he was to think the viscount could ever want him. To believe it was anything more than lust.

So he fans himself, forces his tears back, and waits until he is strong enough to keep them at bay. Once he is able to do that, he steps out into the hall, taking a few more breaths.

A door down the way opens, a pair of firm footsteps echoing in Stiles’ direction. He looks up, prepared to greet whoever it may be, and nearly loses his composure once more at seeing the viscount. The alpha struts towards him, eyes locked onto Stiles without an ounce of emotion behind them. Stiles eyes never waver and neither does the alpha’s until they’re level with one another.

“Omega Stilinski,” the alpha tips his head in greeting but does not stop, just continues walking past Stiles. A soft whimper falls from his lips at the action that Stiles scolds himself for.

if the man thinks and feels so little for him, then he should not, and will not mourn him. Stiles replays every unfavorable thing the man has done including his attempt at seducing him. There is no time for sadness or mourning, so Stiles will be cold and embraced by rage. He must only last until the wedding, then he can go home and be happy once more.

You are rage, not sadness. This mantra is what Stiles repeats in his head and continues to do so today, in the king’s sitting room as he blesses his brother’s and the viscount’s engagement.

Lady Morrell gives Stiles a questioning look that he nods to, taking his seat across from her, and adjacent to the couple. As he sits, Stiles can feel the alpha staring at him, Stiles returns the favor by looking at Scott and only Scott.

“So, let’s talk of the wedding,” the king claps his hands in excitement. “I’m hoping there’s no need for a special license?”

A chorus of amused answers greets the king while Stiles scoffs lightly. The viscount looks over at him when he makes the sound but Stiles still refuses to look at him. Of course, Scott and Derek were nothing improper, not needing a rushed license, Stiles just finds it amusing since him and the alpha might’ve needed one if they weren’t interrupted. Good thing they were. Stiles can only imagine how much worse he’d feel if they’d actually done something only for the viscount to turn around and ask to marry Scott.

“I think a modest, family affair, would be more than adequate,” Melissa adds, smiling dotingly at Scott. Stiles’ heart pinches at the look thinking of his own mother and how disappointed she’d be in him at this recent chain of events.

Who’s he kidding? His mom never would’ve let any of this happen. She would’ve fought tooth and nail for Stiles’ honor and dragged him back to Poland the moment the viscount first offended him. He misses his mom.

“I agree, Lady Melissa,” the alpha adds. “Perhaps back in the country, at Aubrey Hall?”

The king laughs at the proposition, “No. That will not do. It will be here in town, I’ll host it myself.”

Stiles looks at the king and his confident demeanor. To have the king offer to host your wedding is a great honor indeed, just not the viscount’s style, even if it is Scott’s. Finally looking at the viscount, Stiles is pleased to see him look nervous at the prospect.

The viscount tries to avoid the offer but the king is nothing if not persistent, so it is decided, the wedding will be overseen by the king himself. Scott giggles at the prospect while Melissa offers her gratitude.

“Isn’t it amazing Stiles, it’s like a fairytale of some sort,” Scott regales.

“You deserve nothing less, Scott,” Stiles replies, smiling at his brother and hiding his shaking hands. Grabbing his tea and saucer to distract his hands, Stiles listens in on the others, offering nothing himself and avoiding the viscount’s staring.

“Of course! We could have nothing less for a true love match,” his teacup clatters against the dish at the king’s remark.

Feeling eyes on him, Stiles rushes to apologize, “My apologies, your majesty.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scott remains on the pedestal with Melissa by his side asking question after question in regard to different fabrics and textures. Melissa continues to tell Scott nothing is too much with the king hosting it, their giggles pleasant yet tortuous at the same time. Stiles always misses his parents, his mother especially, but how he longs for his father. His father would sigh at the situation he’s found himself in but help Stiles nonetheless. Tell him what to do.

“Did I tell you the arch-bishop himself will marry us,” Stiles stops shuffling through fabrics at Scott’s question.

“Yes, several times,” Stiles chuckles.

Scott chuckles back and turns to him, “We must find you a new outfit as well!”

“I have plenty of formal outfits Scott.”

“No, this one has to be special,” Stiles smiles at his brother’s excitement. “After all, this wedding is much your triumph as it is mine.” Stiles’ smile drops as quickly as it came.

“Whatever you said to the viscount at Aubrey Hall clearly swayed him! Who knows where we’d be if you did not say something.”

Stiles thinks back on what he ‘said’ to the viscount. Shaking off the memory of his lips grazing Stiles and the hot breath on his ear, Stiles sighs at Scott’s praise.

“I cannot take credit for that Scott.”

“I will bestow it all the same so suit yourself,” Scott sighs happily at his reflection. “It will be so exciting living in London.”

Stiles agrees with Scott and adds, “Yes but you must remember to enjoy it without me.”

“I will, I promise, but you will come to visit too. I’m sure you will be the favorite uncle amongst the Hale children, Cora is already fond of you, I can only imagine how the sibling’s children will be doted on by you. We’ll all be one, big, happy family. Just like we always wanted.”

The rest of the fitting is done without Stiles chiming in unless he’s forced. It drags on much longer than Stiles would ever prefer and as Scott is preparing to leave he offers to depart first with the items.

Leaving Melissa with her son, Stiles takes the footman and the packages home, and the carriage set to return to the tailor. Dismissing the maids and hoping to relax, Stiles enters the upstairs parlor, finding two gentlemen admiring the paintings. Upon his entry, one man turns, a man Stiles does not recognize. The second turns revealing the viscount.

“Lord Hale,” Stiles gasps.

“Omega Stilinski.”

A servant rushes into the room, his face pinched in panic, “Omega Stilinski, Lord Hale, and his guest are waiting in the parlor.” Stiles stops his annoyance before it can show, the footman obviously guilty, and nervous.

“I see that, thank you,” he smiles at the man to help him relax.

“This is the jeweler, we’re here to have Scott’s betrothal ring fitted,” the alpha’s eyes dart anywhere and everywhere except Stiles’ face.

“Yes, well, unfortunately, Scott and Lady Melissa have not yet returned home. My apologies, my lord.”

“Well, then we shall trouble you no further,” the viscount replies to his relief.

“Is that lemon,” the jeweler blurts.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replies looking at the man.

“Cake, I fancy a good lemon,” the man steps closer to the table looming over the cake.

Stiles sighs at the man’s tactics but concedes, “Might I over you some refreshments, Mr-”

“Harris. I mean, only if you insist, it would be rude to refuse,” Mr. Harris smiles at the alpha as he says this. “Tea, two sugars, and a couple of sandwiches please, and thank you.”

Harris addresses the last part to the footman still standing beside Stiles. The footman looks at Stiles in horror but he simply nods his head, giving permission to retrieve the items, but also escape. Alpha Hale’s face is a harsh glare directed at the man that Stiles would normally laugh at, today he just ignores the man and sits across from Mr. Harris.

The jeweler wastes no time in destroying a piece of the cake, the sight an unpleasant one that Stiles must bear. Alpha Hale paces the far end of the room, no doubt to stay away from Stiles as long as possible. Stiles glares at the alpha and his obviously awkward manner until the man meets his gaze.

“It is fine weather, Omega Stilinski, is it not,” the alpha looks nervous as he asks this, the firm exterior he previously wore falling apart.

“You wish to speak to me, about the weather, Lord Hale?”

If his tone isn’t blatant enough, there’s no doubt his disgusted expression is. The Alpha, being a typical thick-skulled man, does not take the hint.

“Is there another topic that is more appropriate,” Stiles sends a polite smile to Mr. Harris and storms over to the viscount.

“There is nothing appropriate about this engagement or conversation,” Stiles hisses once he’s away from Mr. Harris’ hearing.

“On the contrary, I think it is the most appropriate action.”

“Oh? And what of what happened at Aubrey Hall,” Stiles shifts closer and lowers his tone, “of what passed between us?”

Stiles didn’t realize how depraved he was in the alpha’s absence. The way the alpha’s musky scent relaxes him and soothes his tender wounds. The mystery that is his eyes and how they analyze every move Stiles makes. Or the way the man’s nostrils flare when he approaches, a sign he’s inhaling, and enjoying Stiles’ scent.

“Nothing passed between us,” Alpha declares without wavering. “I am an alpha. I am always in control of my reactions.”

“Is that so,” Stiles taunts, stepping further into the alpha’s space, watching his nostrils flare again.

“Need I remind you that if it had been anyone other than your sister,” the alpha drops his eyes to Stiles’ lips, “We would be in a very different situation at the moment.”

“Nothing happened,” the man growls, raising his eyes back up. “Is that what you would’ve wanted then? to be discovered so we’d marry?”

Stiles seethes at the insinuation, “Of course not but-”

“Then let us be glad we have avoided such an…unthinkable fate.”

Stiles gapes at the audacity of the alpha and the lack of concern he has over what happened at Aubrey Hall. He feels the urge to scream, yell, push the man until he snaps and admits there was…admits what? What would admitting do but make their situation more dire? Still, to be the only one affected seems far more harsh, and cruel than he deserves.

“Say, Omega Stilinski, do you and your brother share gloves,” remembering where they are and who they’re with, Stiles steps away from the viscount.

Despite his confusion and the distraction one alpha is becoming, Stiles replies, “Well, yes…on occasion. Why?”

“Perfect! We may then use your hand to size to the ring,” Mr. Harris abandons his prized lemon cake to rush towards Stiles. Stiles doesn’t want to be obvious in his disgust, yet he flinches away from the man, nearly colliding with a piece of furniture.

“That shan’t be necessary,” the viscount scolds to a persistent jeweler.

The three of them stand in awkward silence. Stiles and the alpha share uncomfortable glances while the jeweler waits patiently for the ring to be brought out. Finally, with a sigh, Alpha Hale retrieves the velvet jewelry box. Yet again the urge to yell returns. This is the viscount’s wedding, he has every right to tell the jeweler no, so why are they doing this?

Blocking his view of the alpha, the jeweler slides the ring onto Stiles’ finger with ease. The perfect fit.

Staring down at the ring with a heavy heart, Stiles can’t help but admit, “It is a beautiful piece.”

Alpha Hale steps back into his space, his large warm hand touches Stiles, his fingers dancing on the ring’s band.

“It was the ring my father gave to my mother before they were med,” he whispers, just loud enough for Stiles to catch. Stiles looks up at the alpha and his fond gaze entranced by the ring.

“Lord Hale,” Stiles almost shouts at the appearance of Lady Melissa. Rushing away from the man, Stiles goes over to the couch, tugging on the ring.

“I brought my jeweler to fit the ring, since Scott was not here, Mr. Harris requested Omega Stilinski’s hand,” Alpha Hale addresses the pair.

“Well, Scott is here now,” Melissa urges. “Stiles are you-”

“Yes almost,” Stiles gasps in his strain to take the ring, which has become stuck, off. With one final improper grunt in a very silent room, Stiles gets the ring off.

“Ah hah, here, it’s all yours,” Stiles pants to a confused Scott.

“There you all are,” Lady Morrell greets as she steps into the room. “I have some news for you all.” Lady Morrell shares a concerned look with Stiles that he doesn't understand.

“It appears that Mr. and Mrs. McCall have sent word that they are here, in London.” The room tilts in Stiles’ vision at the news.

“Our grandparents,” Scott marvels, his voice a faint echo lost in the wave of panic he feels.

“Yes, apparently they saw the engagement announcement in the paper and wish to make your acquaintance as well as your future husband’s.”

“They are already in town,” Stiles stutters, Lady Morrell giving him a pitying glance in return.

“It seems that they arrived last night,” Stiles cringes at the information trying to keep his breathing even.

“Is something wrong,” Alpha Hale asks, Lady Morrell sending him another look. Stiles takes the paper, reading every word and attempting to slow his quickening heart rate. He has no doubt the alpha can smell and hear his distress paired with Melissa’s.

“I will invite them to the engagement dinner tomorrow. I am sure it will be a very joyous reunion after so many years apart.”

Stiles looks at Melissa, to see how she bears the news, and the poor woman is pale and shaking. A similar condition to himself, he’s sure.

“I can feel a headache coming on, Lady Morell, would you mind escorting my son this afternoon,” Lady Melissa says once the topic has changed.

“Of course, Omega Stiles and I could do more than well with some fresh air.”

“I should really stay with mother,” Stiles tries.

“You will come with me,” Lady Morell insists, leaving no room for argument.

Chapter Text

Lady Morell doesn’t address him again until they’re out at the promenade and away from the soon-to-be newlyweds.

“How could you invite them, after everything they’ve done to Lady Melissa, everything they put her through,” Stiles demands.

“I will not answer their impoliteness with my own. Isn’t this the result you were hoping for? To reconcile with them via your brother’s marriage?”

“Yes, after the marriage,” Stiles curses. “Scott still doesn’t know and if the Hales find out…”

“They may feel that you contrived a match for your own concealed ends and call off the wedding?”

Stiles sighs at her tone and how obvious his hypocrisy is. He’s aware of how messy this has made the situation but it doesn’t prevent his anxious thoughts from demanding relief.

“Would you not secretly rejoice at the viscount breaking the engagement?”

“Why would you say such a thing,” Stiles puzzles.

Lady Morell turns to him with saddened eyes, “They are betrothed. In the eyes of society and the king himself, they are as good as wed. Only a great scandal, one that would send alarms to everyone and become a stain that which the Stilinski family would never recover,” Stiles’ eyes burn at her harsh words. “Only a fool would jeopardize this marriage now, so I ask you, Stiles, are you that fool?”

Stiles looks away from the lady to watch Scott and the viscount laugh and converse with one another. The joy radiating off of Scott is noticeable even from this distance, the pair walking around the park at their own pace.

“No,” Stiles whispers.

“I did not think so,” Lady Morell adds, linking her arm with his.

“Lady Morrell,” to their side approaches a familiar form.

“Mr. Talbot.” she greets back, Stiles scanning the man from beside her.

“Omega Stilinski,” Stiles stares at the man and his nervous grin. “Perhaps you would be so kind to accompany me for a turn around the lake.”

Stiles is surprised by the offer, doing his best not to show it, instead looking at Lady Morrell in question. She tips her head to him, a silent order to accept, and Stiles obeys.

“I’m sure you are still angry from the races as you have every right to be. I wish to apologize and throw myself at your mercy,” Stiles can’t help but smile at the man.

“Very well, my lord,” Stiles chuckles, “a turn would be most pleasant.”

Mr. Talbot locks his arm with Stiles’ guiding him past a glaring viscount and towards the lake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What a handsome couple they make,” Scott hints at Stiles and Mr. Talbot walking towards the lake.

Derek stops watching after them to look at the beta, “Pardon me?”

“Mr. Talbot and my brother,” Scott clarifies. “I noticed last time they met he was quite smitten with Stiles, perhaps he will convince him to stay in England.”

Talia smiles at Scott and encourages the idea while Derek watches the pair interact. Stiles, smiles easily and often at Mr. Talbot, far more than he’s seen him smile in days.

“He barely knows the man,” Derek retorts, not liking how close the two stand.

“As little as I knew you at first,” Scott teases, looking at him rather than his brother. “But love moves swiftly, does it not Lady Hale?”

Derek ignores the rest of the conversation, his surroundings falling silent except for one sound, laughter. Stiles’ laughter as Talbot assists him into the boat by hand and takes a seat across from the omega. All Derek can see or hear is Stiles and his joy and being with another man.

“Isn’t that so, dear,” he hears his mother ask.

“Absolutely, mother.”

Conversation passes in a dull blur as Derek fades in and out, always keeping his eyes on the water, and that persistent heartbeat. Scott takes notice of Stiles returning to shore and insists they head to the waterside.

Upon approach, Scott calls out to his brother, “I see you are smiling brother. Enjoying amusements the water has to offer?”

“There is water in Poland as well,” Stiles sighs, still seated in the boat. “As you can see, my brother never ceases his arguments for me to stay.”

Talbot smiles at Stiles, “I may very well join him in his endeavors.”

Growing irritated with the sight before him, Derek examines Talbot’s hands and the knot he is attempting to keep the boat ashore.

“That knot will never hold,” he interrupts, preventing Talbot from conversing further with Stiles.

“It will hold,” Talbot tells him, a smirk on his lips. Derek glares at the sight and begins to untie the knot.

“Then I question your nautical skills,” Derek smirks back at the man who concedes. Derek looks over to Stiles who is rolling his eyes and looking over the water rather than at him. Talbot rises as he ties the knot much tighter than it truly needs to be and moves to assist Stiles out of the boat.

“Pardon me,” Derek grunts, stepping in front of Talbot to offer his hand instead. Stiles glares up at him from the boat but makes no move to take his hand. “Omega Stilinski.”

Stiles looks at offered hand and then his face, “Lord Hale.”

Finally, the omega takes his hand, and Derek sighs in relief at the contact. The scent of Talbot will soon be replaced by his if he keeps the contact long enough. Stiles’ long legs rise from the boat and step onto the dock, Derek no closer to letting go. Derek takes the opportunity to admire the beauty so close to him, in peace, with no arguing and hiding needed.

Stiles looks at their hands and frowns, ripping his away and stepping back, his scent blooming with pain. His wolf, thinking he hurt the omega, flinches away from the man. As he moves back, his heel collides with something drawing his balance in an awkward manner. Derek reaches out for the closest person-Talbot-but Talbot was looking the other way and is not able to help him. Rather than stabilize him, Talbot trips him even further, the pair crashing into the lake with a horrifying splash.

Derek’s head breaches the surface, and faint laughter can be heard, alongside Scott asking if they’re alright. A Lycan of his stature falling into the water because he was distracted by an omega. What has he become?

“Indeed, the water is a great refreshment for such a warm day,” Talbot laughs, wading towards the dock.

With a snarl, Derek rips his coat off his frame, trudging his way to the dock. The faint smell of joy and amusement he correlates with Stiles greets him as he approaches. Growling again at the situation, Derek slams his jacket onto the dock and begins taking apart his apparel. He slides his suspenders down and reaches to loosen and remove his collar.

“Refreshing indeed,” he hears Scott mumble, a whiff of his arousal reaching Derek.

“Scott, it is not proper to stare,” Stiles replies as Derek pushes off the dock and stands before them in nothing but his trousers and drenched white button-up.

Standing before the pair dripping with lake water, Derek inhales a wave of Stiles’ arousal at seeing him exposed. Derek hates the way that scent makes his teeth ache and his stomach curl while Scott’s did nothing at all.

Chapter Text

“Duty to rank and title. Fidelity to one’s family name. It demands both utter obedience and total sacrifice. But what happens when such duty is in conflict with the heart’s true desire? Why, then, there is the potential for a considerable scandal, indeed. The only question is, will the parties in question heed my warning? Or is it already too late to turn back to duty and away from desire?”

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 5 (51m20s)

As usual, Derek finds himself in the study, buried under the pages of his duty while his mind is desperate to wander into treacherous waters. He refuses to give in and focuses on property taxes and balancing expenses. Usually hating distraction, especially with dinner looming, Derek fights his growl at the soft knock on the door. His mother walks in, her scent wafting toward him but Derek keeps his head down.

“How unexpected the McCall’s letter was, wouldn’t you agree,” Derek remains silent. “It will be nice to see a family reconnected I believe.”

“Mother, I am nearly done, we will not be late.” Silence greets him but his mother does not leave, just lingers, and paces before his desk.

“it is not dinner I am concerned about,” Derek does look up at this, “I have been watching you all week my dear. I told myself I would support your choice-” Derek looks back at his papers with an agitated sigh. “I said I would remain silent on the matter my dear but-”

“Mother, you have been anything but silent,” Derek looks up at his mother, her creased brow and tender eyes.

“I am concerned my dear, which I have every right to be,” Talia warns him, “especially since this person will take over the household from me.”

“You don’t believe Beta Scott is suitable for the position?”

Talia sighs this time, not him, and the faint smell of frustration grows with each second. Derek refuses to look at her again. Knowing his mother she may use her emotions and guilt to sway him and he simply does not have time for this.

“I question the example you’re setting for your siblings, especially the youngest, by you marrying someone you obviously have no tenderness or love.”

The quill in Derek’s hand snaps at the remark. Derek dodges the ink and mourns the papers that were destroyed in his carelessness. Derek stews in his emotions for a moment not wanting to hurt his mother but to get her to simply understand him.

“Why mother can you not understand that you and father were the exception, not the rule,” he sighs.

“Perhaps because I wish for you to know the joy of an exceptional marriage,” he can’t fight the scoff at her response but he remains silent. “You should be excited to marry Scott, rather than look as though you are approaching the gallows. So please, Derek, if this is not what you want you must say something now before-”

“What I want is beside the point. I could never dishonor Scott by begging off now.” The words are for his mother yet some part of him can’t help but feel they’re yet another reminder to himself. A reminder that this is what he has chosen and there is no room for changing his course.

“You are right,” Talia says to his relief. “A gentleman cannot take back his word. But the other half may. It is quite common, you know, for the other half to get overwhelmed in the display and fanfare and then grow cold feet when the actual marriage looms.” Derek freezes at the implication. His wolf grows louder in his head telling him this is his way out, his way to switch, to go for-

“If Beta Scott were to call off the engagement, no one would blame him, or fault him. You would be releasing him from the obligation before the vows were exchanged without dishonoring him.”

Something, some expression on his face must give him away as his mother’s face softens and grows earnest. Derek shakes the suggestion from his head, knowing it’s too late, and Scott would never willingly break the engagement.

“Scott wouldn’t break the engagement,” Derek whispers towards his mother’s pained eyes.

“But does he know your true feelings on the matter?”

Derek looks at his mother, truly looks at her, confusion etched onto his face. How could she know his agony? How has she noticed his attention has swayed and gotten lost in amber eyes and freckled skin? No. She couldn’t possibly know what plagues him.

“My feelings are of no concern. This is a matter of duty and being wed is my responsibility.”

Sharp and pungent pain wafts off his mother but Derek does not acknowledge it. She can’t and won’t understand what this means to him and how he must do this. He refuses to waste more time repeating himself.

“Do not cast your doubts aside,” Talia whispers. “It would break my heart to see you live the rest of your life in regret and I dare say it would break your father’s too.”

As quickly as she came, his mother departs, leaving Derek to stew in her words. The urge to snarl, roar, unsheath his claws and rip the room to shreds is consuming. But Derek has been smothering his emotions and urges for years and he can do it again. Even now.

- - - - - - - - - - - - —

Stiles is sure he will be sick at any moment. The closer dinner is the more nauseous and terrified he becomes. So much at stake and these people, and these horrendous people could take it away at a moment’s notice.

“Stiles, are you alright,” Stiles startles back to the present, looking at a gorgeous Scott standing before his mirror.

“Yes, sorry, just a headache.”

Scott dismisses their servants and turns to him with a worried brow, “Are you sure that is all? I’ve seen how ill at ease you are with the viscount lately…” Stiles’ gut caves in even further at the mention of the viscount and how stupid he has been. Stiles shrugs off the question and fusses over Scott’s top.

“I am so excited to meet them, Stiles,” the sight of Scott so genuinely eager to meet these people on top of all the sources of Stiles’ guilt as of late wears him down.

“Scott there is something I have to tell you,” he starts. “It’s about the McCalls and how they have influenced our trip-” he can’t help but flinch at the word ‘influence’, the word not anywhere near sufficient enough to explain their part in everything.

“Our guests have arrived,” Lady Morrell calls from the doorway, preventing Stiles from doing the one thing he should’ve done weeks ago. Scott rushes into the hall with a giggle and Stiles makes to follow him.

Lady Morrell blocks his departure and quirks a brow at him, “I do not require a warning, I am aware to be on my very best behavior.”

“Do you truly think of me so harshly,” she doesn’t wait for his response. “Believe it or not Stiles, I am hosting this dinner for you. Even with your sister marrying and preventing certain hopes you might’ve obtained in regards to the viscount-”

“There are-”

“Access to the McCall fortune could very well be given to you,” Lady Morrell continues over him. “A life of independence, a matter many would agree is the better prize.”

Stiles stills at the implications. He never once considered finding himself in the McCall’s good graces and what that might mean for him. He simply assumed that their high-esteem would just try to marry him off as high as possible not give a fortune.

“After passion cools and fate intervenes,” Stiles flushes at the expression, “who else is one left with but themself?”

Stiles’ perspective on Lady Morrell gives way to another light. If not for the waiting guests, Stiles is sure his eyes would be damp and he’d find himself hugging the woman. A prick at his eyes threatens to escape and she must notice as she offers her arm and heads them down to dinner and away from their emotions.

Chapter Text

Upon entering the sitting room, the McCall couple are quick to adore and dote on Scott, as so many are. Derek watches as Stiles remains silent and still off to the side, letting them bask in all that Scott is, a small smile tugging his lips at how well they all get along. There is no room for awkwardness until Lady Melissa greets them and they don’t return it and when they ignore Scott’s attempt to pull Stiles into conversation entirely. Derek frowns at the cold nature of the couple towards Stiles but remains stoic. Only then does Lady Morrell encourage them to begin dinner.

“Though our estate is no Aubrey Hall, is a fine place in Hertfordshire,” Sir McCall States, “Do you shoot Alpha Hale? We have fine grounds for shooting and you are always welcome.”

Derek agrees softly and Scott jumps into the conversation.

“As does Stiles! The pair almost bagged a stag during our trip to Aubrey Hall,” Stiles winces at Scott’s attempt to praise him to Derek’s amusement.

“How unusual,” Lady McCall replies. “Do they show all Omega’s to shoot in Poland?”

Avoiding his piercing gaze, Stiles mutters, mostly to himself, “Only the fortunate ones.” Derek hides his smile behind his cup at the omega’s sarcastic reply.

“Lord and Lady McCall, how long do you plan on staying in town,” Derek turns to the couple.

“Oh, we shall stay for the wedding, Imagine, the king himself hosting the wedding of my grandson!” Everyone chuckles with Lady McCall and her joy. “His Majesty has been so forgiving after everything that has happened.”

“Now, now, my dear,” Lord McCall interrupts. “We are all family here.”

“Yes, of course, we are.”

Derek looks back and forth between the couple, confused at why they would bring this matter up now, in front of the betrothed family and during dinner.

“Even after our daughter so callously rejected the match we had found for her,” Derek fights the urge to gape at the lady’s boldness. The racing of a familiar heartbeat tugs his eyes away from the grandparents onto a pale and white-knuckled Stiles. Derek yearns to reach out to him, touch his hand with his own, or tell the couple to shut up.

“My dear, we agreed-”

“He was an earl, with 12,000 acres,” multiple scents of embarrassment, confusion, and rage attack his senses as the lady pushes on. She praises how other children would fall to their knees in gratitude for their parents but not theirs.

Stiles’ agony is palpable at this point, even as his mother desperately tries to steer the conversation to the dinner and Lady McCall’s sweet tooth.

“And for what? A mere soldier, was he? And with a child from a previous marriage to God-knows-who,” Derek clenches his cup to smother his instincts and not lunge at the woman.

“My mother has a name,” Stiles hisses at the woman who speaks so lowly of him.

“Lady McCall, I really must ask you-”

Lady Morrell is ignored as the other lady continues her rant, “We could not show our faces in society for years! Now that she should care. She simply sailed away from us with that man and robbed us of our grandchild.” Stiles’ eyes flutter shut at the continuing remarks, Derek’s wolf nearly feral with the urge to make them stop.

“Grandchildren.”

The table falls silent as Lady Melissa finally speaks.

“I have two sons, both of which you have had every opportunity to form a connection but the choice to shun us was yours alone.”

“I beg your-”

“do not think for a second, I took being cast out by the only family I have ever known, lightly. I was heartbroken. But in time, I came to see, that in your cruelty, you did us a great service. When you cast me out, you set me free.” Lady Melissa glows with confidence as she continues, “Free to raise my sons far from your constant judgment and craven demands that they should chase wealth and titles above all else.”

Despite his stepmother standing up for him and his family, Stiles appears devastated by the sight. His scent grows even more acidic with pain and his heart pounds so heavily, Derek fears it will burst from his chest if he doesn’t calm down.

“You speak of scorning riches and yet you have come crawling back to snatch at our fortune,” Stiles pushes away from the table and tries to insist that they discuss this elsewhere to Derek’s confusion.

“Believe me, I want nothing from you,” Lady Melissa hisses to her mother.

“you, perhaps not, but your son certainly does.”

Derek looks on as Stiles’ face pales at the remark and his pulse seems to miraculously double.

“Mom,” Scott asks, his voice riddled with confusion.

“the trust fund we have set up for him? The condition of which clearly states that he must marry a man of good English breeding to inherit.”

Now it’s Scott’s heart rate that soars, matching his brother’s state of panic. Derek fights the growl he so desperately wants to release at the information. To know he was only chosen for his status has a flurry of emotions racing through him and yet…he can’t find the blind rage he expects. He did choose Scott simply for being the diamond, a status, but then how much did Stiles lecture him for not choosing for love?

While most smell and act confused, Stiles is every depiction of guilt and panic, telling Derek it was his plan.

“You did not think we would allow another generation to pollute the McCall name, did you?”

“Stiles, what are they talking about,” for the first time, Derek hears Scott actually growl at someone. And while he usually likes seeing another’s Lycan side, the sound directed at Stiles doesn’t sit well with his wolf.

“What have you done,” Lady Melissa snaps at Stiles, whose eyes flood with moisture.

“Derek,” he looks over at his mother, “did you know about this?”

Derek shakes his head, his mother’s face pinching with rage, her eyes flashing at the knowledge.

“I shall explain, everything,” Stiles gasps, his devastated eyes locking onto him. His heartbeat reveals no lie, but isn’t it a little late for transparency and honesty?

“I see this one has inherited your penchant for avoiding the truth. Or perhaps it is something he has inherited from his father?”

Control-something Derek has excelled at since he was a child-slips out of his grasp at the final remark. Slamming his palms onto the table, Derek flashes his red eyes and orders silence. Shooting a final look at Stiles to gauge his emotions, Derek sees him curling into himself, flinching at his raised volume.

“I can only think you’ve been exiled from good society because of your deficient manners rather than any other sin,” he snarls, forcing his fangs to remain in his gums. “Since the moment you arrived, you have failed to show the proper respect for the Stilinski family, and I will not stand for it.”

Lady McCall looks shocked by his loyalty, no doubt having none within her own body, while Lord McCall speaks up. “I declare-”

“I said,” Derek growls, his eyes flaring at the disgusting man before him, “I will not stand for it. Lady Melissa has more than exceeded in raising her sons. They are intelligent, kind, and extraordinary men. A credit to both their parents.” Even with him defending them, Stiles’ panic subsides to embarrassment.

“Since you so clearly do not wish to jeopardize your social standing, I would recommend you to not associate yourself with their company. So,” Derek raises from the table, avoiding the devastation on a certain omega’s face. “You are dismissed. Please send for their carriage. They can wait outside.”

“You cannot-

“Do not trouble yourself by waiting for an invitation to the wedding, for you shall not receive one.”

The room is stiff with tension, even after the McCalls remove themselves. Lady Melissa tries to address him and his mother but his slipping control reminds him that now is not the proper time to discuss these matters.

“We will take our leave,” Derek states, leaving no room for a reply. Scott raises from the table, crying out to him, but Derek departs with his mother. As they walk the halls out, Derek ignores his mother to eavesdrop on the Stilinskis.

Chapter Text

Derek hears Scott shout at his brother for lying to him with Lady Melissa following her son without a word. The thundering of footsteps towards him can only be one person, only one is so bold as to try to reason with him despite the odds.

“Lord Hale,” desperation tinges the omega’s voice, forcing him to stop. “Lord Hale, I beg a word!”

“We must be going,” he replies, looking everywhere but the omega’s face.

“Please,” the cracked plea softens his resolve paired with the pain on the man’s face.

“Mother, I shall meet you at the house,” Talia nods to him and leaves without a complaint. Without another word, Derek follows Stiles into an empty room, Stiles immediately begging him not to be angry with Scott, and that he had no idea.

“I am not angry with him,” amber eyes widen at the ease of his words. “It is blatantly clear that he was as much in the dark as I was about your schemes.”

“They were not schemes,” Stiles insists.

“I’ll take it there will be no dowry. Now that the McCalls have withdrawn their support?” Pain and desperation leave the omega and rage flares off of him and towards Derek.

“You care about a dowry,“ Stiles marvels while Derek avoids looking at the omega’s hypnotizing eyes. “It is because of what you just did that the dowry is lost!”

Derek nods in understanding, keeping his hands firmly clenching behind his back to avoid temptation, “It is regrettable to be sure. But clearly, Beta Scott and I have been misled, and it best to call off this doomed engagement before it is the cause of any more strife.”

Just hours ago Derek was mourning the fact that he could not relinquish his engagement without wounding Scott and his image, and now…now he can be free of it but only by the scheming and carelessness of the one he is so drawn to.

“Of course, I’d never besmirch his reputation, so my mother and Lady Morrell will make a plan-”

“There will be no plan! I do not understand. Why are you suggesting this,” Derek keeps his gaze away from the omega, knowing his slipping control will result in him caving at the smallest look from the man. “All along, you have been set on marrying my brother, despite my every objection, might I add, and now you want to cast him aside.”

Derek growls at the omega’s raised tone, “So why? and do not talk to me of dowries, sir, for we both know you have no need of it. So tell me, what has he done?”

“He has done nothing. It is you. You have made this match impossible,” Derek growls, finally meeting the omega’s shocked expression.

“But, I am leaving for Poland,” Stiles urges to Derek’s annoyance.

“And it is not far enough,” he shouts. “Do you think that there is a corner of this earth that you could travel to that would be far enough to free me from this torment?” Stiles’ stern expression crumbles into a wounded one at his words, the omega not understanding his meaning.

“I am an alpha and a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor and absolute control and that control is hanging by a thread that grows more frail with every moment I spend in your presence,” Derek hisses.

The hurt expression switches once more. Those eyes, those damn amber eyes glimmer with understanding, now alight with tenderness directed at him. A tenderness so similar to the look he received in the garden when the omega was stung. Want rushes over and through him with vigor. The desire to scent, to mark, and hold this man before him is so strong it’s practically debilitating.

“You are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires.”

A delicious gasp falls from the omega at the admission, his scent ripening with want, and those damn eyes…Derek steps closer to the omega inhaling the irresistible scent of arousal and lilies.

“I dream of you and crave you night and day and I-” Derek stops himself to graze the man’s nose with his. Claws pierce his fingertips but Derek keeps his hands firmly at his sides waiting for the acceptance, an answer to tell him he can touch and take.

Peering into dazed amber eyes down his nose, he whispers, “do you know all the ways one can be seduced? The things I could show you.”

Another wave of arousal flares off of the omega, Derek growls in response, a soft whine leaving the man’s lips at the sound. Stiles pushes up a little to press his nose then his cheek against his stubble with a soft sigh. Derek repeats the motion with a sigh of his own, knowing his scent will be on the omega for the night, this reminder has him pushing his face against Stiles with more force letting another whine escape the omega sending a shiver of want down Derek’s spine.

“I did not ask for this,” Stiles gasps against his cheek. “to be plagued by these feelings.”

Despite knowing, smelling, and sensing Stiles’ reciprocation, the omega has never verbally agreed to want him. Stiles has always been a sharp tongue and fiery eyes yet he’s never hinted at being willing to give in, to submit.

Derek pushes against his cheek again but doesn’t push back. Instead, the omega drops his head to the side, exposing his neck. He does moan this time, taking one of his hands to push a stray hair out of the omega’s eyes, and placing his palm on the unbarred side of his neck. Stiles whimpers at the sensation of his scruff scratching at the delicate skin of his neck. Derek growls at the sound and pushes his nose to inhale and scent every inch of the man’s neck to scent mark him fully for the first time.

“Hiding from my brother, being driven to distraction every time you enter the room,” Derek burrows himself further into Stiles’ neck hoping it’ll sedate the urge to bite and mark.

“So you agree, it is insupportable,” Derek whispers, moving his face back up to graze his lips with Stiles, and caress his temple.

“It is impossible,” Stiles replies as he tilts his head to have their lips graze even further.

How desperate he is to ravish the man. To mark, bite, and claim the omega. Derek can’t remember the last time he wanted something, was so desperate for something in his life. What he’d give to call this one man his…but he can’t. He’s an alpha. A gentleman. He is supposed to die young and he is supposed to wed without love. That is his duty and this…temptation won’t ruin his plans. He refuses.

With one final gulp of the intoxicating scent, Derek pushes himself away, “If I wed your brother, it will bind you me to you, for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, and fearing the way when my last semblance of control snaps. Is that the future you want for us? For your brother?”

The dazed and lustful expression has fallen from the omega’s face. Derek looks into those glorious eyes that are now dazed and hurt. Sentiments that are reflected in his scent.

Sounds of soft chatter in the distance snap him out of his daze, “I must go,” he whispers, once more invading the omega’s space to inhale and absorb everything he can. He allows himself only a second then he flees the room and the object of his desire.

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

Too scared of where he’s found himself, Stiles lets the viscount go, remaining where he is to gather himself. It is not possible to ask for the viscount to marry him when the man sees his affections as such a burden. Even if he didn’t, how could it work? Leave Scott to turn around and marry his brother? Oh, how the people would gossip, how it would ruin Scott, the Hales…everyone involved.

Once his composure returns, Stiles prepares for bed, and only once he’s done all he can does he look for Scott. He finds his brother sitting at his window with red-rimmed eyes.

“Ever since the viscount started courting me… I knew you were hiding something,” Stiles stumbles over words, not knowing how to express why, and how sorry he is. “You did not trust me enough to tell me what was going on!”

“Scott no,” his brother scoffs. “I am sorry I hid it from you, I am, but after dad got sick and I had to manage affairs…I saw an opportunity and I took it. When I heard their stipulations, I didn’t tell you, not because I don’t trust you but because I knew if I told you, you would’ve married not for love but for duty and that was the last thing I could ever want for you. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you from having to bear this burden…I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Scott glares at him from the window but gives no response. Stiles waits in fear and agony as Scott glares at him in silence.

“I am not a child, Stiles, we’re the same age and I am ready to become a spouse.”

Stiles winces at the reply but nods, “Yes, I know.”

“If Lord Hale does not end our engagement, then the McCall fortune would not matter, would it? Once I marry the viscount, I will have enough money to care for all of us, even dad.” The fear is in his scent and his heart must be evident, as Scott shakes his head at him and continues, “The viscount is as generous as he is wealthy, I am sure of it.”

Stiles knows this is true. What he does not know is if the Viscount will still truly marry Scott. But how could he tell him that after everything that has occurred tonight?

“He might…but Scott, this should not be your burden.”

“It is no burden to marry the person I love.”

All the air in his lungs flees at the statement. The tendrils of a panic fit crawl into his vision at the mere thought of his brother, being in love with the viscount, enough to even forgive Stiles for lying to him.

“You love him?”

“Watching him defend us at dinner tonight, how could I not? I want nothing more than to be his husband.”

Scott leaves with these words and the sickly feeling curdling in his gut. Stiles does not sleep that night. He cries until there are no tears left and stares at the ceiling wishing he could go home, see his father, and never see alpha Hale again. But those wishes are a fantasy, just as marrying the viscount is, so Stiles waits until the morning sun before he takes his horse unchaperoned into the park.

Stiles is always the one with a plan. He always knows what to do and how to go about it, yet here he is, crumbling and useless, caught between wanting his brother’s happiness and also being terrified as to what that entails. The sound of another horse and its rider approaching draws Stiles’ gaze away from the frosted ground.

As if summoning the man with his silent desperations, Alpha Hale materializes before him. The man looking as ruggish and tempting as ever. Also as untouchable as ever.

“Omega Stilinski, I see you continue your morning rides,” the alpha dismounts his horse as he calls out.

“As do you,” Stiles manages, absorbing the raw expression on the man’s face.

“I could not sleep,” the alpha provides, staying beside his horse and away from Stiles.

“Nor could I…have you made your decision, on what you will do?” Derek approaches Stiles but maintains enough distance to prevent them from ever touching.

“I see no other option,” he replies. “I will talk to Scott today and speak of ending things. It is the only way…”

The image of a crying and vulnerable Scott saying how he loves this man plagues Stiles.

“Once the engagement is over, our paths need never cross again,” whatever was left of Stiles’ heart breaks at how easily the viscount speaks of forgetting him. “It will be as if we had never met.”

“You cannot do that-”

“Stiles- “

“No, you cannot break my brother’s heart. He is all things good and kind and I could not live with myself if I robbed him of his happiness and the future he craves.”

There is no hope for him, there never was, especially not with the viscount. But to take Scott down with him would be… incorrigible.

“I do not understand, you’ve been against this union, from the start-”

“I was wrong,” Stiles cries. “I will not be the cause of you losing your honor and breaking my brother’s heart. I won’t. I will do anything, please, Lord Hale.” The alpha stares at him with his usual blank and calculated face.

“Please Derek,” Stiles whimpers, even if this will rob him of his happiness forever. “This feeling that haunts us will pass and I will leave for Poland and you must marry Scott. Please, Derek.”

Stiles takes the silence that follows to admire the man before him, the man too good for him, who holds his brother’s happiness. Those eyes that are so beautiful they manage to make Stiles forget how to speak entirely. The feeling of his scruff on his sensitive skin, a sensation he will never know again.

“Very well. I shall see that the wedding takes place as soon as possible.”

This is what he wanted. So why does he feel as though he is dying a slow withering death?

With a tip of his hat, Derek mounts his horse and rides away. Stiles remains still as long as he can, until he knows for certain, that the alpha is too far to hear him. Only then does he let the sobs rack his body as he collapses onto the dirt.

Chapter Text

“A march down the aisle may very well be the longest walk any young ‘person’ ever takes. It does not simply cover the length of the church, but rather, countless floors for dancing, and meandering paths for every afternoon promenade. it is a wonder, then, that feet do tire or, heaven forbid, trip under the scrutiny of all those attentive eyes keeping close watch, indeed.”

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 6 (0m22s)

'Heart' Sleeping At Last  

^^^^^^if you want to listen and cry

Derek’s brothers are all the company he dares to hold tonight. While they tease and jest, calling him an uptight tyrant who bemoans his duties, Derek tries to drown himself in whiskey. Not for the first or the dozenth time, he wonders if this was the right choice and if he can bear what will become of his future. The mere thought of never seeing Stiles again is a haunting thought. That paired with the sadness Scott will bear at never seeing his brother, because of Derek, is nearly unbearable.

While he may not be in love with Scott, Derek can easily say he loves him, as he would a good friend. Scott doesn’t deserve him or this situation but what is there to do?

“Let’s cheers,” Isaac fills his glass and breaks him of his reverie.

“What are we drinking to if not the future?”

“To the brother,” Derek clenches his jaw at Isaac’s reply.

“The brother,” a sharp pang in his chest overcomes any alcohol that lingered within him.

“The brother! The gatekeeper!”

“To besting him,” Jackson adds with a raise of his glass. Derek grimaces at their toast, staring into his glass, the amber liquid far too similar to a pair of golden eyes he’s overcome with.

“you do love boasting of your victories, do you not, brother,” Isaac beams.

Isaac and Jackson giggle and sip their drinks. Derek frowns at the color longer-one of many reminders of the omega he’ll have to bear for years to come-and slams his entire glass down in a rush. He spends the rest of the evening in a similar fashion.

The morning of is spent with his mother fretting over this and that, looking shocked to see him smiling and dressed without a fuss. Derek ignores her and the nervous expression on her face and urges his siblings up and into their carriages.

Despite his grumbling siblings and his mother’s nerves, everything remains smooth for Derek. That is, until Laura’s arrival. Isaac brushes off his coat with a dozen too many eye-rolls ceasing when Laura’s silhouette appears in the mirror before them.

“Finally, I was wondering if you were going to show up at all,” Isaac teases a glaring Laura.

“You are late,” Derek grumbles, not meeting his sister’s all-knowing gaze.

“Yes, well, to be honest, brother, I was plagued by doubts. I wasn’t entirely sure if the day’s festivities were truly going to take place.”

Derek growls at Laura, raising his gaze to glare at her icy expression, “Does the duchess not care for your bride, brother?”

Isaac looks amused by their bickering, exaggerating his tone, but beneath the surface, Derek can see his interest piqued.

“Beta Scott is lovely. Which is why he deserves the truth, the truth that you are denying him,” Laura hisses.

Isaac’s smile drops at Laura’s words. He looks between the two, his brow furrowed, and his mouth twisted down.

“I am confused, who is denying who,” Isaac mutters.

“Isaac, please excuse us. It seems the dutchess is determined to voice her opinions this morning.”

“But I-”

“Issac,” Derek interrupts. The scent of frustration wafts off his brother, but Derek pays it no mind. He’ll apologize later. For now, he must deal with Laura, and her incessant need to meddle in his affairs.

Derek waits until Isaac is done sighing and finally leaves the door to speak. With the click of the door, he begins, “I am too far down this road to turn back, Laura, you must see that. Scott would be ruined if we did not marry. Our family will also suffer if we do not.”

“And what of his brother?”

Derek winces at the mention of Stiles, “He has made his own plans for the future, plans that do not include me. We have decided that this…nothing that is between us, will fade with time, especially with him returning to Poland”

Rather than chastise him or pity him, Laura stays silent, adjusting Derek’s tie with a neutral expression.

“Do you ever wonder what father would say to us, on a day like this,” Laura whispers. “He was the only person you ever truly respected. The only one you ever listened to,” a soft chuckle falls from her lips, cracking Derek’s heart.

“you cannot know what he would say,” Derek bursts, interrupting Laura’s thought before it could be verbalized. “Father spoke to me, gave me words that were nothing like yours. So please, Laura, do not insult me with your conjecture.”

With his sharpening tone, Derek moves away from his sister, desperate to escape her and this conversation.

“You forget, brother that I have been here, have always been here. I have seen you throughout your life and I saw your change the day he died,” Laura cries out to him. “You did not even weep once, you stopped laughing, and you rarely laugh since. You became an entirely different person, a person, consumed by the expectations of others!”

“You say this as if I had a choice. I changed so our family could survive. I bear the weight of everything so that none of you must ever know the burden of our family,” Derek gestures to his sister in all her effortless glory, “I am happy for you Laura, I am, but I am also not like you. I do not have the luxury nor the desire to succumb to the blind delight of being in love. Unlike you, I cannot afford to indulge myself in such matters.”

“You can choose to be happy,” Laura bellows.

The pair fall into an uncomfortable silence. Derek looks at his sister, as beautiful as ever, even with her expression twisted in disgust. She just doesn’t understand. None of them understand what burdens he must bear and how heavy the weight of his title truly is.

“You could, for once, listen to your heart instead of smothering any and every feeling that comes to the surface. To fight for the family that you want!”

“I do fight! I fight for the family that I have.”

Derek’s voice, which started as a shout, cracks towards the end. All he wants, all he does is for this family, there is no room for anything else. Why can’t she understand this? The burning of tears threatens to blur his vision at the frustration and exhaustion building within him.

“You will never understand because you were born to marry into another family whereas I was born to carry the Hale name. To bear the name with pride and honor and that, is what outweighs anything else. It is easy to be selfish when you have no one else you must answer for.”

“I mourn for you brother. All these decisions you make whether by choice or duty, then turn to resent us for them. Even if they don’t make you worthy of your family’s respect, they make us pity you instead, nothing more.”

Derek pinches his eyes shut, waiting for the familiar click of the door to signal Laura’s departure. Only alone, he allows himself to feel, only for a moment. His breathing is shallow and shaky for the following seconds as he desperately tries to smother the pain raising inside him. He’s too far now. No matter how painful her words are, Derek must follow duty, and get this day over with.

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

He knows he can do this. His confidence never wavers, not even when bowing to the king, who is just off the altar grinning at him. There is no doubt in his mind that he made the right decision and that he can and will do this. Then Stiles appears in all his beauty and Derek can’t breathe.

It’d be one thing to have seen him in the hall in his wedding attire, to prepare for what he will see again, but to see him walking down the aisle towards Derek feels like a solid punch to the gut. The omega in a maroon coat staring at everything but him as he waltzes down the aisle sends Derek’s brain into a flurry. His wolf and a portion of him beg to imagine it’s their wedding and that this man is walking down the aisle to and for him. Only the expression on the omega’s face ruins that image paired with his effort to look anywhere but directly at Derek.

While one part of him is grateful-those eyes always seem to ensnare him-another part of him aches with desperation to have those eyes meet his. Just one more time. The bouquet being clenched by the omega’s beautiful hands shake with enough vigor for Derek to see from his place a couple of meters away.

Stiles takes his stand on the altar and Derek can’t help but turn his gaze to follow the omega. Finally, the golden eyes look at him, widening at the sight of Derek already looking at him. Stiles darts his eyes away and Derek fights the urge to wince as the scent of lilies and pain fill his nose. The too-familiar sound of the omega’s heartbeat slams against Derek’s ears, blocking out every other sound in the room. It takes him far too long to realize Scott is entering the hall looking…sad?

Derek suspects it to be nerves, what else would it be? So he tries to smile at the man and his mother and offers his arm. He takes Scott’s arm and moves him up the altar, the beta facing him with a forced grin, while Stiles stands behind him. Fighting the urge to look at Stiles once more, Derek compliments Scott and waits for the ceremony to start.

Even with the church filled with people, scents, and heartbeats, all Derek can sense is Stiles. The way his heartbeat grows faster and more frantic with each word the bishop utters, the rest of the room growing faint and blurry. He knows it’s wrong but Derek can’t breathe and everything else is nothing, there’s just Stiles standing there looking more terrified the longer Derek looks at him. The rest of the room falls away as Derek blinks and everything comes back but with Stiles in a white coat before him, not Scott.

The sight of Stiles in white, staring at him, sends a wave of relief and calm through him. Derek exhales with ease for the first time that morning and gives his first genuine smile at the omega in front of him.

A foreign echo reaches his ears over and over until Derek loses his daydream. The bishop calls his name, an action he’d done numerous times based on the concerned look he shares with Derek. Derek looks around the room, and multiple stares of concern meet his gaze. He drops his eyes to Scott, the man he is supposed to marry, but Scott's smile is long gone and replaced by a look Derek has never seen him wear, one he cant understand.

Everything is too much. His eyes burn with the shift, showing his lack of control, while his wolf thrashes in rage within him. His control is always slipping and failing him lately but now? Now is not the time for him to slip completely. 

In his weakness, Derek looks around Scott, to look at Stiles. Stiles’ left hand holding a white-knuckled grip on a bouquet while his right clutches a gold bracelet. Once he looks at Stiles he can't stop. Those honey eyes so wide and scared, the flushed cheeks...He sees Scott turn and look at his brother but Derek keeps his eyes on Stiles and his increasingly flustered demeanor. 

"The Arch-Bishop, my lord, he wants you to repeat after him," Scott's tone is bland and neutral, the first Derek has ever heard it sound so empty. A small part of him screams to stop looking at Stiles, to look at his future husband, but he can't. So he agrees with Scott and keeps staring at the omega behind him. 

The Bishop is all a blurry tone in his background as he watches Stiles run his fingers over the mysterious gold bracelet like a priest would his rosaries. With another twist, Derek watches the bracelet unclasp and fall from the omega's wrist. Stiles' expression shifts from agony to horror as the bracelet lands beside Scott's foot. Without a word, Derek lunges to grab it the same moment Stiles does. Derek reaches it first, holding onto it with his clenched fist as he takes in Stiles' beauty up close for the first time that day. 

Yet again, he's hit with the desperate longing to have Stiles standing across from him, but he can't. Love destroys you. He watched it destroy his mother and he cannot afford the same agony to overcome him. Even if he could, it's far too late. Look where he is now...

"Allow me," Derek whispers, his own voice nearly lost over the sound of Stiles' pounding heart. He doesn't put the bracelet on, the action is too similar to placing a ring, and instead folds it into the omega's hand and cradles the gloved hand in his own. 

With the moment behind him, Derek takes his place before Scott again, not looking back at Stiles. Scott looks at him with confusion.

"Beta Scott," the bishop asks the frozen man. 

"I need a moment!" 

Derek flinches at the volume and asks if the beta is okay but Scott simply turns away from him and rushes down the aisle and out of the church. Gasps of shock and horror fill the room but Derek remains silent as Stiles chases after his brother. 

Chapter Text

Stiles isn’t sure why Scott ran but he can almost hear the world shouting that it’s his fault. Upon entering the room, Melissa is trying to soothe Scott. Telling him to breathe, that it’s just nerves, and that tea will relax him but he doesn’t look anxious, he looks furious. Panic clings to Stiles’ lungs at the foreign expression on his brother’s face.

“I don’t want tea,” Scott snaps finally. Stiles flinches at the tone and the vicious look in Scott’s eyes. “It is the truth I want, Stiles.”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth, trying to find something, anything to say that will justify…but he can’t.

“Scott what is going on,” Melissa says as she tries to lay a comforting hand on Scott’s shoulder.

Scott shrugs off her hand and growls, “What is going on, is that Stiles has been lying to me, for weeks.” Melissa looks between the two of them, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you.”

Melissa looks at him with an expression Stiles’ wasn’t anticipating; pity. She knew or guessed Stiles’ agony and like him was too scared to speak it.

“Do you love him,” Scott asks. Stiles freezes at the question, never having answered it out loud, and to answer now with his brother’s furious face before him.

“Scott I-” A bitter chuckle leaves Scott’s mouth at his weak attempt to speak, Stiles never being the one at loss for words, and turns away from him.

“I had a feeling, a gut instinct, but you weren’t telling me anything. You just kept saying you hate him but I should’ve known. Love and hate are far too easily interchanged. So I waited and waited for you to say something, anything, about your feelings while I played dumb. As if I couldn’t smell your emotions for each other and how miserable you’ve been!”

Scott marches back up to Stiles and pushes his chest, once, twice, the third time nearly knocking him over. “You’re in love with him yet you were going to sit in silence and have me marry him? What were you thinking?”

“Now is not the time to discuss this,” Melissa interrupts, “Let us all take a moment.”

Melissa guides Scott to his seat, her hands rubbing his back in the motherly way adds to Stiles’ nausea. How he wishes his parents were here to help him or just take him far away from this situation he’s made for himself.

Stiles moves towards Melissa only for her to spin and push him back, “No, you need to go,” Stiles hesitates, Melissa having never spoken to him so harshly before, “Anywhere else Mieczyslaw, go!”

A whimper falls from his lips at his birth name surrounded by such anger falling from Melissa’s lips. Stiles has ruined everything for them, why stay and make it worse? So he listens and rushes from the room. He runs until he reaches a grand staircase and leans into the banister with wavering lungs.

there’s an assortment of people at the base of the stairs and relaxing on banisters similar to him. the sight Almost all the Hales-Derek at the front-has the tears threatening to fall once again. Stiles spins away from the sight and rushes into the first room he can find, a quiet and abandoned storage room, his tears finally free to pour.

Now alone, Stiles removes his mother’s bracelet, the one she was wearing when she met and married his dad. It’s supposed to be good luck, to show you the one you’re supposed to marry, yet it ruined everything. Sliding the bracelet off, Stiles hurls it onto the floor and collapses into a heap next to it, letting the sobs contort his body.

Once the tears become more manageable and less consuming Stiles stares at his mother’s bracelet laying at the base of the door. He can’t afford to shut down now, his father would be so disappointed in him, and so would his mother…Pushing himself to his feet, Stiles goes to the bracelet, picks it up, and claps it back onto his wrist. Once his breathing is completely stable again Stiles cracks open the door to make sure no one is around. With no one in sight and not a sound nearby, Stiles leaves his sanctuary and begins his walk back toward Scott’s room. And yet, luck seems to be against him today, as he rounds the corner and sees Alpha Hale looking back at him.

Not ready for him and not trusting himself with the man, Stiles turns and runs back to his room of solitude, flinching when the door opens moments after he closed it.

“No, you can’t be here,” Stiles groans at the man, “this is my hiding place.”

“The closet?”

“Yes! Now you must go and leave me in peace,” Stiles marches back to the door and pulls at it with all his strength, but the alpha keeps it pressed shut with one hand. Stiles groans again at the man’s stubbornness and stupidity.

“I just met with Scott and he was…angrier than I knew him to be capable of,” Stiles scoffs at the man. “You know him better than I do so you must do something.”

“Do something? And what would you have me do? More lying and plotting?” Stiles sees one flash of pain in the man’s hazel eyes and panics, dropping his eyes anywhere and everywhere but the alpha.

“So you’re going to sit here and hide in a closet while he ruins his life?”

“I ruined his life,” Stiles whimpers. Derek steps closer to him, dangerously close, and Stiles panics, “You should not be here.”

Stiles moves around the alpha and makes for the exit when a hand grabs his wrist, “Wait,” the whisper is the same soft tone the alpha has used whenever they’ve found themselves in an inappropriate setting. The same whisper that sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine.

Derek’s hand strokes his mother’s bracelet and Stiles watches in silent terror at how right the gesture feels. He cracks and looks up at the alpha’s soft and pleading eyes so close to his own yet again. He will not succumb to his desires.

Stiles shakes his head and pinches his eyes to block out the raw look on the alpha’s face. “Goodbye my lord,” he says as he flees the room and rushes back to Scott. Scott lets him in the room but does not speak to him and keeps his back to Stiles.

“I had feelings for him, yes, but they were weak and no match for the love I have for you and our family. I will do whatever it takes for you to be happy-”

“Such as going back to Poland after the wedding?”

“I just want to make things right and get out of the way of your happiness,” Stiles tries to explain. “The viscount and I do not have a future together. You deserve this not me.”

“Why,” Stiles frowns at the question. “Why me and not you?”

“Scotty, you know why. My family-” the tears prick at his eyes once more, “I swore after dad married that I would do whatever I could for you, that I wouldn’t think of myself until I knew you and Melissa would be okay. I love my mother and father but we come from a line that means nothing here and I am okay with that because it still allows you to find your happiness here. I would do anything for you, you’re my brother-”

“Half brother,” the tears do fall as Scott calls him this for the first time in their lives. “It’s time for me to make a decision on my own for once. You can’t make this one for me.”

Scott leaves him this time rather than cast Stiles out leaving him to stew in his guilt. It’s there that Stiles paces and frets, waiting to hear of Scott’s decision. How his head and heart battle one another. His heart is desperate for his brother to cancel the wedding while his brain knows that even if it is canceled it means no happiness for him. So the pair battle until a footman finally arrives with a letter on a silver tray that Stiles reaches for with shakey hands. On the paper is a request, to meet at the church altar, the guests are all distracted in the garden, from the Viscount. Wasting no time, Stiles jogs out of the room and towards the chapel even if it’s a terrible idea.

Upon arrival, the chapel is void of all guests, with only the Viscount at the front. Yet, he is the one that asks what Stiles wants to speak about.

Derek looks confused when he says he didn’t ask for him until Scott enters the room., “I have made my decision.”

“Scott, we should talk about this in private-”

“I will not be marrying you.” Stiles’ head and heart, still at war, are silent at the admission, neither one coming out victorious. No one can be victorious anymore thanks to Stiles.

“You cannot give me what I want and even though I do not know true love firsthand, I deserve to try and find it, not settle. You will never look at me the way you look at my brother, even if he leaves after the wedding and I don’t deserve that.” Despite the heartbreak of the day, Stiles can’t help but be proud of Scott for finally knowing, and demanding his worth.

“And you no longer have the power to decide for me or tell me what is right for me,” Scott says the last bit to him and leaves as quickly as he came.

The hurt he feels is overcome with pride. Scott could and may very well hate Stiles from now on but at least he was able to choose his future whereas Stiles will always be limited. Derek remains silent at his brother’s retreat, staring at the floor of the altar, lost in thought. Stiles watches him, from afar, as he always will, waiting for the man to move.

“Alpha Hale,” Stiles says, trying to break the man from his thoughts.

The alpha slowly lifts his gaze to look upon Stiles with a fond expression, “Your brother is braver than us both. He had the courage to act upon what he saw between us while we…”

Ran from it. Are the unsaid words hanging between them.

“Here we are, after feeling this for months, standing perfectly still.”

“I stand here because the moment we step outside those doors, we face the truth,” Stiles chokes out. “We have failed. Failed our duties and responsibilities…we have failed.”

The battle between head and heart secedes, his heart tugging him and his feet closer to the viscount, stopping him at the altar a mere foot away from him.

“So forgive me, my lord, if I now wish to suspend time. To just exist for a moment while we can.”

The alpha’s usually stern and blank face crumples at the defeated tone he bears.

“Goodbye, my lord,” Stiles sighs as he absorbs every inch of the man while he still can.

The black stubble always coating his shark jaw and cheekbones, the eyebrows that seem to have their own language that Stiles so desperately craves to learn, and his eyes…the eyes that are a myriad of every color that flash a stunning crimson. Stiles takes it all in for what may be the last time while the alpha stares at him, most likely, doing the same thing.

Stiles isn’t sure who moves first. If he lunged, if the viscount did, or if they crashed together in the middle, but one moment they're staring at one another, two parts agony and two parts hope, then they’re touching.

Both his hands rest on the broad and heavily muscled shoulders of the alpha as his lips settle onto Derek’s. There’s only a second of pause before a soft growl comes from the man and two broad hands are pulling on Stiles’ lower back, dragging him closer to the alpha. Stiles slides one hand through Derek’s hair and across his cheek as their lips press together in one chaste kiss then another. He’s never hated gloves as much as he does at this moment, his desire to feel the stubble tickle his palm so consuming. But the feeling of the stubble stroking his cheeks and pressing into him is more than enough for now.

Derek’s hands don’t wander just tighten and pull him as the kisses become less chaste. Stiles runs his hands through the alpha’s hair as their lips tug and battle one another, a curl of desire tingling his spine when Derek nips his bottom lip for a mere second. Stiles whimpers at the sensation, the alpha returning it with a satisfied growl that tugs Stiles away from the addicting lips before him.

Once apart, their hands drop, linking them together at their waists. Derek’s lips are swollen and damp, his eyes the electric alpha red that Stiles enjoys a little too much, his pupils dazed and wandering Stiles’ just as messy expression. There they stand on the altar that was nearly the marriage of the man he desires and his brother, having just kissed with Stiles’ cheeks already sensitive from the alpha’s hair digging into his skin. What a mess they’ve made and how scared Stiles is of what will become of him.

Chapter Text

“A jilted groom. A broken-hearted -’ groom to be.’ A royal wedding in shambles. Sensational? Quite. But true? This author may traffic in chatter and speculation, dear reader, but misinformation? Never. Explanations of why ‘Beta Scott’ absconded from the altar may be greater in number than anyone could possibly fathom. But we must not forget, it was ‘his Majesty the King’ who placed the young man on that special stage so that he could make his grand exit. Allow this author to hope for ‘his’ Majesty’s sake, as well as both the Stilinskis and Hales, that an official explanation emerges swiftly, lest the ton are run away by their tawdry imaginations.”

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 7 (0m25s)

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

The ton gossip is loud and incessant but not nearly as loud as his family’s. You’d think, with all of them being Lycans, they’d remember that he can hear them talk about him.

Derek waits down the hall, listening to their fretting, “Where is your brother, he should be here by now…”

“Perhaps he is at the altar still waiting for Beta Scott,” Jackson jests to the annoyance of their mother. Derek isn’t angry at the jab, it’s quite funny, especially since Jackson has no idea what’s going through his head. It’s the sound of Malia and Liam doing their usual bickering that draws Derek into the room.

“Brother! How good of you to join us,” Derek sighs at Isaac and gives him no response.

“Has everyone eaten,” Derek mutters, picking over snacks left by the servants.

Talia rushes over and smacks his hand away, “You will need to eat later, we need to act swiftly, and I think it is a wonderful morning for a promenade!”

The collective groan of Hale siblings almost brings a smile to his face, almost. Derek doesn’t bother arguing considering this is his fault and he should’ve listened to his mother ages ago.

“We will be a united front, a respectable family-”

“A respectable family is headed by a gentleman, is it not,” Derek scoffs clenching his jaw in annoyance, annoyance with himself.

“Brother,” Isaac starts, “Is there something more we should know? Or perhaps something just I should know?” Derek thinks of Laura, how meddlesome she became once she understood his inner workings, and rolls his eyes at his brother’s not-so-discreet attempts.

“Forgive me. Mother, if you think a promenade is wise, we shall leave within the hour.”

Later, Derek will find humor in the situation, he’s sure of it. At the moment, he is annoyed and wants to snarl at every whisper and giggle. He follows his mother’s instruction and greets those they pass but each greeting is returned half-heartedly followed by a quick departure. As yet another family murmurs unflattering remarks over the engagement, Derek casts his eyes out, settling on a dull and morose-looking Stiles.

Even from afar, he can see the darkness beneath the omega’s eyes from sleepless nights and an emptiness in his gaze. Derek’s chest pinches at the sight. Every instinct within him craves to scent the man and make his eyes ignite with their usual fire. He fights the instinct and avoids the Stilinskis until his mother and Lady Morrell insist upon tea at her estate.

Derek refuses to look at Stiles, terrified that once he looks he will never be able to look away, and simply stews in his misery while the women plan. That is until his mother suggests a ball.

“A ball? So everyone can inspect the wreckage even closer?”

“It is to show no ill-will between the families dearest and to show that it was a mutual decision between all parties involved,” Talia answers him.

Scott finally breaks his stony silence, “A ball should be fine. If Stiles’ own brother was unaware of their feelings for one another I’m sure they can still hide it well, even at a ball.”

Stiles’ beautiful scent has been a mash of stress, anxiety, and misery since Derek approached him. At Scott’s words, the scent of misery doubles, nearly knocking Derek off his seat. A growl is ripped from his throat before he can smother it and Derek flashes his eyes at Scott, the one causing such pain for the object of his affection. Scott gapes at Derek but is saved from answering when Mischief, Stiles’ pup, comes running into the room and goes straight for Derek.

The beagle hops and barks at Derek, begging for attention while Stiles apologizes profusely and rushes to grab him. Derek thinks back on when he first met the dog, how he snarled at Derek to Stiles’ amusement, only to now want Derek’s affection. How well this dog understands this owner.

Derek rises from his chair, Stiles also raised as he ushers Mischief out. Once the dog scurries away, Stiles straightens, his face inches away from Derek’s.

Even with the dark smudges beneath his eyes and his sour scent, Stiles is as beautiful and hypnotizing as ever. Derek gazes into his whiskey eyes with a small smile, the knowledge of Mischief liking him the first good thing to happen all day, while Stiles looks everywhere but at Derek despite his body leaning closer. His sour scent slowly turns sweet with arousal making the others cough in an attempt to break them apart.

“How stupid you must think I am,” Scott shouts. “You two are so obvious and the way you smell!”

“If this plan is to work, I suggest the two of you stay on opposite ends of the room at all times,” Lady Morrell warns nudging Stiles with her cane away from Derek.

Derek growls at the action and she turns her lecture to him, “All we need is one person to witness something untoward—if there is so much as a passing look between the two of you, our plan will be for naught. Do we all understand?”

“Of course,” Stiles whispers, taking his seat once more.

“Indeed, Lady Morrell,” Derek adds.

With that, Derek leaves the room and his desires behind. He hears his mother calling his name and continues walking. It’s as she repeats herself, much closer, that Derek stops on the stairs to face her.

Talia’s face is pinched with worry as she looks down at him from a higher step. “Are you able to follow through with this plan because-”

“You have nothing to worry about, mother, I will play the part.”

Derek makes to leave again when she calls out, “and then? This plan is a temporary solution. If it is successful the rumors will die but it will leave you with no one to marry. Unless your plans for the season have now changed?”

“The line does not end with me, mother, I am not the only solution.”

“You plan on relying on your brothers then,” Talia asks, her face muddled with rage and concern.

“What do you want from me, mother? To admit I made a mistake? That I never should’ve asked for Scott’s hand or taken things this far? I realize that I have failed you and father in more ways than you will ever know,” Derek’s voice cracks, his failures catching up with him. “This plan will work, because it has to, you and Lady Morrell will make sure of it.”

Derek stews in his rage-rage aimed at himself-for the day until can bear no more and marches off to find Isaac. Isaac, who is the second son, who never focuses on his duties. So Derek marches over to his art school, the one Derek heavily endorsed, to find a drunk and dazed Isaac looking back at him.

“Is this what you do, every night, at this ‘school’?”

“Did you come to admonish me,” Isaac pouts. His rage simmers beneath the surface, his frustration at being the eldest, at having to bear the family's weight.

“You are the second son Isaac. That does not mean you have no duties it simply means you are second,” Derek snarls in his brother’s delirious face.

“Does this have something to do with the Stilinskis? Perhaps the way you look at the omega brother…” Derek looks at his brother and his teasing tone wondering why he came here in the first place.

“Forget it. Goodnight Isaac.”

“Ugh, brother, listen. Stop being so bleak,” Isaac grabs his coat and draws him back. “Listen, if I don't like a piece, I may alter the color palette but I won’t throw the entire piece away. Do you know what I mean?”

Derek frowns at the scent of wolfsbane on his brother’s breath and his close proximity and storms off. He’d never admit that the advice, despite coming more from drugs than his brother, was slightly helpful.

Chapter Text

“what is it about betrayal that excites us so? The ton itself has certainly felt its peculiar kind of frenzy after the promise of the wedding to end all weddings was broken.”

-Lady Whistledown Season 2 Episode 7 (39m29s)

Scott, for all his blatant rage towards Stiles, is passively hostile to him as well.

Today is the first attempt at showing the ton normalcy, Derek and his mother meeting their party at a gallery. Derek hands each of them a small cluster of flowers and Derek preens at hearing the omega’s heart stutter at the gesture. Scott rolls his eyes and gives their footman his flowers, everyone falling into an awkward silence, Derek unsure of how to proceed.

“Remember, before we can send out invitations, we need to appear as one,” Talia urges, “so, shall we?”

No one answers but Scott steps forward and walks into the museum. Stiles gives Melissa his arm and steps forward.

Derek watches Scott walk into the gallery beside his own mother, a bundle of rage and irritation, while Stiles looks meek and guilty. His under eyes are lighter than their previous meeting but the omega still appears plagued by exhaustion. Derek longs to offer his arm to the omega. They’d all still appear united and he can have a chance to just touch the omega and bathe in his scent. Stiles’ eyes avoid his as he steps forward to enter the gallery and Derek can’t help but step closer as he does, forcing their proximity, so he can inhale the omega.

The scent of lilies and Stiles’ natural scent floods his senses making him pinch his eyes shut to hide their red. A throat clearing breaks him from his trance. An amused yet stern Lady Morrell quirks a brow at his behavior. Derek nods to her and rushes in behind the others.

The gallery is flooded with patrons. Unfortunately, the art isn’t as interesting as the gossip of the Stilinski-Hale reunion. His mother, yet again, encourages them, letting everyone disperse. Derek offers his arm to Lady Melissa and begins their turn around the room.

“I must apologize, Lady Melissa, I realized I had yet to offer you a formal apology.”

“Quite the privilege, is it not, to be a man and hold such culpability in such matters,” Derek sighs as a couple passes them, waiting to answer her.

“you have every right to scorn me. However,” Derek looks into Lady Melissa’s warm eyes, “I would severely regret if I did not tell you that it was never my intention to cause your family the pain as I have now done.”

Lady Melissa pats his arm with a soft smile, “I cannot place the blame entirely at your door, Alpha Hale.” Derek sighs in relief at the statement, the guilt of wounding this family still clawing at him.

“I have been absent for too long. With my husband taking ill it should’ve been my duty to shoulder the family’s burdens, not Stiles,” guilt pours off the woman, “Stiles has sacrificed so much…I don’t know if he has ever truly done anything for himself.”

A lady approaches them, greeting Lady Melissa, Derek whispers his greeting and searches the room for Stiles. Derek finds him before a statue, alone, the crowd giving him a wide birth. Derek fights the urge to whine at the sight and knowledge that he can’t comfort the omega. He’s done enough damage already.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Stiles has spent far too long at this statue. Two lovers embracing only pinches at his heart yet he can’t look away. Someone approaching pulls him from his pity, and Scott willingly comes to stand next to him.

“It seems Lady Blake is swallowing the story being halted due to a mutual decision,” Scott greets him, his face carefully blank. Stiles opens his mouth once, twice, yet falls flat on what he could possibly say.

“You, speechless, who knew this is what it would take to make that happen,” Stiles flinches at the remark even if he deserves it.

“Scott, please, tell me what to do to gain your forgiveness. I’ll do anything. I will apologize, every day for the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes. All I care about is your happiness Scott and I am reaping the consequences of destroying it.

“Would you ever have told me? Of your feelings,” Scott replies. “Or would you have just vanished?”

Scott leaves before he can reply and Stiles is grateful. There is nothing left for him to say on the matter that Scott will forgive or accept. So Stiles remains alone, fighting the tears off, and staring once more at the statue of the lovers. Stiles is content with the loneliness, it is, after all, what he deserves. This is why, of course, the viscount makes his appearance on the other side of the statue.

“Omega Stilinski,” he greets.

Stiles refuses to look at him as he replies, “Lord Hale.”

“I have been wanting to speak with you, alone,” he whispers, just loud enough for Stiles to catch and no one else.

“There is nothing to speak about,” Stiles grits. The alpha scoffs at his reply and takes a step around the statue to get closer.

“We kissed.”

Stiles shoots his eyes around them to make sure no one overheard and hisses at the man,

“We did not. Nothing happened between us. How could it? You were my brother’s intended and there is no world in which we could kiss.”

In his weakness and defeat, Stiles looks up, the alpha stepping completely around the statue so he is a pace away from Stiles. That face, that body, with those eyes…the man himself is punishment enough for Stiles. To be so close and be everything he wants despite never being able to touch…the alpha’s eyebrows are a mass of frustration on his brow and even they provoke longing within him.

“Are you quite serious?”

“We did a terrible thing…” Stiles replies.

The alpha’s brows somehow furrow further at his reply. A soft smirk plays at Derek’s lips making Stiles want and also be on guard for what trouble this man has planned for him. Stiles narrows his eyes at the alpha’s approach and prepares himself to step away quickly. This is not the time nor the place for this conversation.

The smirk grows as he stops a foot away from Stiles, “We did a terrible thing.” Stiles doesn’t wait for his response and turns away from the man, moving to another piece of art. A soft growl echoes behind him and Stiles rolls his eyes at it to keep walking away from the temptation that is the alpha.

Stiles is left to himself for the rest of the gallery. He pretends to enjoy himself for the sake of their…audience.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The days that follow are as bleak as the previous. Scott still avoids him and refuses to talk to him and Melissa is torn between her son and her half-son. Stiles saves her the agony of choosing and makes himself scarce and before he knows it, the ball is here. The one that is supposed to fix everything. Stiles has the urge to return to Poland sooner rather than later more and more as the days wear on. His presence here only making things worse.

Upon their arrival, the Stinlinskis enter a quiet and empty Hale Hall. Not a single guest has shown leaving the two families at a loss. A footman approaches Lady Hale to ask if the quartet should still play and she tells him they may rest. Everyone looks out at one another, unsure of where to go from here.

“Well, seeing as you no longer need me,” Isaac Hale starts, “I shall go to my studio rather than bask in this misery all night.” Isaac only makes it a few steps before Derek is grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

“You will stay for a dance,” Derek orders him with a smile. Stiles frowns at his request, preparing to argue against it when a genuine and beautiful smile graces the alpha’s face.

Stiles has never seen the alpha truly smile. Only smirks and teasing grins accompanied by sarcasm and pride gracing his face. But to his wonder, Derek smiles beautifully at his mother as he insists on dancing, ignoring Isaac and his complaint. Derek raises his head to look at the next-level balcony and calls out for his youngest sister; Malia.

“Yes brother,” a timid-looking Malia replies, her head bending over the balcony bar. The youngest brother-Stiles strains to remember his name as Liam-looks at Derek in concern from his spot beside Malia.

“Come do me the honor,” Derek calls out to her. Malia gasps and giggles at the request, shoving away from the balcony to rush downstairs, Liam demanding that he gets to dance if Malia does.

Despite Liam being older, Stiles knows both are too young to be in society, so their excitement at being invited downstairs is understandable. If Stiles thought his initial grin was beautiful, the way the alpha’s face lights up as he stands at the hall entrance with his palm up waiting for Malia is akin to ethereal. Malia bounds down the stairs and slides her hand into her brothers and Stiles watches on with his own fond smile as Derek spins her and smiles down at her.

“Something lively, I say, perhaps a country dance,” Derek calls to the quartet who smile in approval at the alpha.

Stiles, despite the weight of his sorrows and the lack of guests, can’t help but feel giddy, Malia’s happiness spreading to him. Starting with their hands linked in a circle, the music starts, and pairs break off. Stiles shares a soft smile with the alpha before turning to his partner. The circle rejoins, rushing in and then out everyone laughing and smiling. With the odd numbers, Scott dances with Melissa and Lady Talia at the same time, the trio hugging one another and spinning with laughter.

The usually snarky Jackson smiles at Stiles as they spin and laugh their way through the steps. Partners shift after another circle and Stiles ends up with Lady Talia. Even so, they’re all laughter, as is everyone else.

The dance shifts and shifts until Stiles is paired with Derek. While their interactions are usually charged with something forbidden, they link arms and smile at one another. Derek’s joy is even more beautiful up close-the twinkle in his eyes a beacon that Stiles gets lost in. Everything else vanishes leaving Stiles with the alpha’s firm arms linked with his and heads bowed to each other with shared laughter. Stiles basks in the man before him until the music begins to fade and the dance winds down to an end.

Stiles gaps for air as he settles down and fights his instinct so he can separate himself from the alpha.

“Perhaps a quadrille,” Malia beams from the center of the floor. All the adults, including Stiles, share exhausted looks at the request.

“Perhaps we should start eating some of that food,” Jackson suggests, efficiently distracting the young Hale. Everything is light and perfect as they all snack and talk with one another. Except for Scott, who is off the side with a sour expression.

As the Hale siblings crowd around their mother and the latest Whistledown muttering about something she wrote pertaining to Cora. Stiles walks over to his brother, asking him if he’d like to return home.

“As if you care what I would like to do,” Scott snaps, flashing his golden eyes.

Stiles flinches at the sight but persists, “Scott, this is cruelty-”

“You would know cruelty best brother, it is not my specialty, it is yours.”

Stiles doesn’t wait to see where his brother walks off to and excuses himself. He paces from the room and continues until he is far from everyone and wandering the garden.

Chapter Text

Stiles walks until he comes across a small pavilion, four Grecian statues bear the weight of a vine and floral covered top, a small table with a lit candelabra atop it, with two chaises framing it. Stiles sits atop one chaise with a shakey sigh yet again feeling the urge to leave London once and for all.

“What are you doing out here,” Stiles looks at the intruder, who is, of course, the viscount emerging from the shadows. He should’ve known with the candles being lit.

Stiles sighs at the man, too tired to argue, “My apologies,” he mumbles, moving away from the man and the discovered sanctuary.

“No, no, please stay,” Derek calls out.

“you were here first.”

“I was just leaving.”

“It is your house, my lord,” Stiles grits, growing annoyed with their back and forth.

“Must you always,” Derek growls to Stiles’ further annoyance.

“you were the one who kept insisting,” Stiles snarks back.

“So this is you compromising?”

Stiles groans at the man, too tired for this tonight, “Goodnight, Alpha Hale.”

“Can you ever just agree with me,” Derek snaps. Stiles stares at the man; his clenched fists, a furrowed brow, and intense gaze.

“You have been like this since the moment we first met that morning,” Stiles frowns at the man, unsure where he is going with the topic. “Obstinate, stubborn, sarcastic, unyielding to common sense.”

If Stiles could growl, he would, but he settles for a scoff and a signature eye-roll.

“Well, I can certainly understand why that would be so agonizing for a man like you. A man who is used to getting his way. A man who loves to give orders-”

“I do not enjoy giving orders-” Stiles clenches his fists at the denial.

“You constantly give me orders and expect me to listen then grow angry when I refuse to listen!”

“Well perhaps you should,” Derek shouts, stepping closer to Stiles.

“I’ll never listen to you or anyone I disagree with,” Stiles replies his tone raising to match the alpha’s.

“How has it taken you this long to accept the fact-”

“you wish to know why?”

“Do you even know why,” Stiles sneers. “Please inform me of your self-knowledge and awareness!”

“It is because you are different from anyone I have ever met and it drives me crazy,” Stiles gapes at the alpha, his expression morphing from frustration to desperation. “You consume every ounce of my desire and attention, my very being.”

The pair stare at one another in heavy silence. Derek’s chest heaves with his breathing and Stiles can’t pull his eyes away from the man who is destined to be his ruin.

“My family is the talk of scandal, all of my siblings secretly despise me and my lack of joviality, my mother included. Even if I have spent the better part of my life for them and doing everything I do for their sake. And yet…” a bitter laugh falls from the alpha’s lips. “Yet, all I can think about, the only thing that makes me want to rise another day, to leave the house for, is you. Do you think I chose this? That I chose to want to be nowhere but beside you, with you? I’ve even dreamt of running away with you.”

Even if he wasn’t a Lycan, Stiles is sure Derek would be able to hear his heart pounding against his chest at the confession. Stiles’ head and heart battle once more at the admission of his feelings. On one hand, his heart is angry that he feels this way despite saying how much he wishes he didn’t. On the other, his brain is telling him that can’t be helped considering their situation.

“the constant, crushing urge to act on the most impure, forbidden desires, no matter how many times I remind myself-”Derek closes the space between them, his nose nearly grazing Stiles’ as the man’s warm breath fans across his face. “to remind myself that I am an alpha, that I can control myself, and that I am a gentleman.” Stiles fights his instincts to fall forward, to press into the alpha, and just give in.

He nearly loses his composure when Derek lunges for his neck, running his nose up the column, inhaling his scent. Stiles’ eyelids flutter shut at the action, his mouth betraying him and letting out a small moan.

“The way you smell, the way you always reek with want for me…the way your smell has imprinted itself on my mind and I search for it everywhere I go,” scruff tickles Stiles’ cheek as the alpha pushes closer, scenting every inch of Stiles’ face making Stiles pant.

“You have to stop,” Derek whispers as he removes his face from Stiles’.

“I have to stop,” Stiles marvels. “It has been you! It has always been you,” Stiles insists as he steps away from the alpha and the temptation.

“You have changed everything for me. Made me reconsider everything I have ever told myself! I came here for my family, everything I have ever done has been-”

“Has been for them,” Derek finishes. Stiles nods, the alpha understanding this and him better than he could’ve ever expected.

“You,” Stiles whimpers, “you are the one that must stop before-”

“Before what? Before we do something for ourselves for once?”

Stiles doesn’t answer. He watches the alpha growl and shake his head, perhaps to clear it, and glare at Stiles as though all of this is his fault.

“Please go inside,” Stiles stands in stubborn silence, refusing to obey. “Go. in. side,” Derek growls, his alpha eyes flashing at Stiles in a warning.

“What did I tell you about your orders?”

Stiles stares at him shaking with fear and excitement. Not fear of Derek but fearing his desires and where they will take him. Then it happens again, just like at the wedding, they lunge and their mouths meet. Unlike their first kiss, there is nothing gentle about it, not even for a moment.

__________if you do not like to read smut, stop here__________

Stiles cradles the alpha’s face while Derek opens his mouth and explores it with his tongue. The kiss breaks as Derek looks into Stiles’ eyes with his crimson ones. Derek drops his hands down and tugs at Stiles’ ass rubbing his fingers over Stiles’ hole despite his layers in the way. A loud and filthy moan rips from his lips at the sensation, his body pushing up and into the alpha as much as he can, his back curving so the alpha’s hands can press further and deeper.

Then the hands are gone and Derek is whispering to him, “I will stop.” Stiles whimpers at the thought of this ending so soon and presses himself back into Derek’s space.

“do not stop,” Stiles gasps against his lips.

“I will stop,” Derek repeats, his hands still not touching Stiles again and his eyes back to their hazel.

“Do not stop, Alpha, please,” red eyes flash once more as Derek lunges to take Stiles’ mouth with his own. Their lips tangle and their tongues battle yet again as Stiles gives the alpha everything he has. As he finally surrenders himself completely to the man.

The kissing fades quickly as they break apart to begin peeling off their clothes. Stiles is quickly left in his undergarments his skin exposed and ready to be explored. Derek buries his face in Stiles’ neck, growling at Stiles' shivering, and pulling off his gloves. As soon as the gloves are gone, Stiles cradles the man’s face, desperate to stoke his beard and run his fingers through the alpha’s soft raven locks.

Besides the occasional whimpers, Stiles is quiet, letting out another loud moan when Derek drops onto his knees before him. An alpha, bearing his neck and his entire being for an omega is…Stiles groans at the sight as Derek peels off his shirt and looks up to Stiles with pure want and devotion. He only has a second to admire the sight of the alpha kneeling before him as Derek licks and nips at every inch of Stiles’ exposed flesh.

Ignoring his groin, Derek scent marks and nuzzles every inch of Stiles’ stomach with desperation. Stiles whines and twitches at the sensation, his legs shaking and struggling to hold him up when Derek reaches his nipples. Derek either catches this or is done scenting for now as he lunges up and picks Stiles up with ease. Stiles wraps his legs around the alpha’s thick and muscular stomach kissing him with his own desperation as Derek sets him onto a chaise.

Derek presses himself down onto Stiles, every inch of his muscle rubbing against Stiles making him slightly delirious. The alpha returns a few kisses before breaking their kiss and flipping Stiles over. Stiles looks over his shoulder at the alpha in confusion and a pout now that they can’t kiss. He barely catches the alpha’s smirk as he kisses his way down Stiles’ back and tugs the last cloth down his legs and tosses them onto the floor beside them. He doesn’t have another second to wonder what he’s planning as Derek presses his nose to Stiles’ hole and puffs soft breaths onto it.

Stiles curses in understanding but still tries to watch Derek over his shoulder. The sensation of scruff on his cheeks has his legs shaking with anticipation but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of Derek’s mouth kissing over his hole and sucking. Stiles moans at the feeling, his hole leaking enthusiastically at the attention. Derek kisses it a few more times and Stiles relaxes thinking this is all he plans. Then a tongue is pressing into him and Stiles wails at the sensation and writhes with pleasure.

As he did with his mouth, Derek explores every inch with his tongue, his thoroughness wrecking Stiles. Stiles thrashes with pleasure and claws desperately at his surroundings until Derek relents and kisses his way back up Stiles’ body and flips him over once more.

Stiles’ chest heaves in a desperate attempt to calm himself down but it’s all for naught at the sight of Derek’s alpha eyes nearly lost to his enlarged pupils. Their lips join clumsily, Stiles moaning at the taste of himself being pushed into his mouth. Derek shifts above him, removing his last pieces of clothing as well, allowing all of their skin to finally meet. Both moan as their cocks rest against the others and Derek hitches one of Stiles’ legs up to wrap around his hip.

His eyes flutter shut at the new angle and the sensation of their cocks grinding into one another. Derek burrows into Stiles’ neck once more as he ruts into Stiles with a delicious friction that has Stiles’ eyes rolling and his toes curling. His mind completely lost to the pleasure

“Alpha,” Stiles moans as Derek sucks and bites at the base of his neck, the place where a mating bite would go, sending more shivers through Stiles' frame. Derek growls and removes his hand from Stiles’ hip to reach back to his whole pushing two fingers in easily with how wet he is.

More moans fall from his lips at the two large fingers pushing in and out, scissoring him, and spreading him open. Stiles can vaguely hear himself moaning alpha over and over beneath the sounds of the fingers squelching in and out and their panting. Derek’s growls grow louder at his chanting and his thrusts grow erratic and desperate. Bliss washes over Stiles as Derek starts growling praise into his ear, telling him how good he is for his alpha, and how good he feels.

Stiles feels himself getting closer and closer to the edge, the swelling at the base of Derek's cock only driving him wild with want. As Derek whispers, "come for your alpha,” and bites his neck with dull human teeth, Stiles sees stars. His body bows at the pleasure coursing through him, his voice hoarse from calling out to the alpha. At the feeling of Stiles’ falling over the edge, the alpha spills all over him with stuttering hips and moans, a seemingly endless wave of cum spreading between them as Derek whimpers and grinds his knot against Stiles.

As soon as the desperation fades, Derek takes his hand from Stiles' hole and rubs their cum together into their stomachs, spreading their scents together with his last spurts of cum.

Stiles collapses with bliss-filled exhaustion the alpha following him and cradling his frame.

Chapter Text

Derek wakes to water dripping on his face. His growl of annoyance fades as he remembers last night and smiles. The sound of rumbling thunder forces his eyes open to the spot beside him. The tendrils of sleep and exhaustion leave him as he realizes he is now alone. Stiles and all his clothes are gone. The smell of their activities is there but so is the smell of fear and sadness, Stiles’ sadness.

Derek remembers little of the journey inside just flashes and blurs of him stumbling into the estate and getting dressed. He wastes little time and effort on his appearance and rushes to his office ripping the drawers open until he finds what he so desperately needs; his mother’s ring. The same ring that fit Stiles so effortlessly those weeks ago will never have to be removed for the rest of their lives. Sparing no time or thoughts on what it is that he is doing and the way his brain tries to scream about them avoiding this for a reason, Derek rushes from the house into the rain.

Thunder crackles above as the rain soaks through his every layer but he feels no chill, just the pounding of his heart as Lady Morrell’s estate comes into view. He bounds up the steps and slams his fist into the door too consumed to wait another moment to see his omega. A footman barely cracks the door open and Derek demands to speak to Omega Stilinski. The man nods and ushers him into a sitting room where Derek fondles the ring box and checks his watch every second.

The footman and another servant stand in the hall whispering to one another and Derek tries to listen but between the thunder and his raging heartbeat, he hears nothing.

With a growl, he rises, “I know it is early but can you please tell him I’m here?”

“I’m afraid that is not possible,” the footman flinches at Derek’s growl. “He does not seem to be here.”

A maid scurries up to the two men and Derek catches her whisper of a horse is missing too. Another growl rips through his chest with the understanding of where the omega is. Of course, that stubborn and foolish omega would go out riding unaccompanied in this weather. Demanding to borrow one of their horses, Derek makes quick work of mounting the horse and racing toward the park. The rain falls in sheets obscuring his vision and blurring the scenery. Derek pushes his alpha eyes forward and urges his horse on, scanning every tree line and hill for the omega.

When the blur of a horse catches his eye a ways out, Derek tucks into his horse, urging the stead to pursue. He pulls the reins to slow down as he sees Stiles’ horse approach a mound far larger than the horse will be able to jump, expecting the omega to tug on the reins and change direction. How foolish a thought that was…Stiles’ form tucks further into the horse and urges it on. Derek shouts for him to stop preparing to urge his horse on again when Stiles’ rears onto its hind legs.

Time stops before him as Derek watches on in agony as the horse kicks back onto its hind legs sending Stiles sprawling backward.

“No, no, no, no,” Derek whispers, his body frozen in fear. Despite the weather and his roaring heart, Derek hears the crack Stiles’ head makes as he collides with the ground.

“STILES,” Derek vaguely hears his scream at the sight of his omega motionless on the drenched ground as he kicks his horse forward once more racing to the man’s side.

He flings himself from his horse not caring where it goes as Stiles is within reach. Stiles isn’t conscious but not entirely lost as he collapses behind him. His eyes don’t open but his brow pinches with pain. Derek can’t find words beyond begging him to just ‘hold on’. Derek moves his hand to the back of Stiles’ head to take his pain and help cradle him but his palm comes back bloody, the iron tang of blood reaching his senses. Stiles’ heart, usually fast and fluttering, is heavy and slow.

“Come on now, stay with me,” Derek begs as he scoops Stiles into his arms and cradles him to his chest. Stiles’ arms are weak as he forces them around his neck and up with him. He marches away from their horses, not caring about their well-being, and sighs in relief at the nearby rider with his wagon looking at them in horror. Derek demands a ride and holds onto Stiles in desperation, his claws pressing lightly into his clothes, his control slipping with the omega’s decline.

Derek kicks the Morrell estate doors in upon his arrival. Derek ignores their offers of assistance and demands them to make room and to call a surgeon for an injury on the back of his head. Scott cries out when he sees his brother and Derek shoulders past him into an empty room with a bed. He lays Stiles down with a gentleness he didn’t know he still possessed, caressing the omega’s face and clutching one of his hands to drain his pain. Servants move around him bringing blankets and linens and barking orders to one another. Lady Melissa and Morrell try to ask him questions that some part of him knows he should answer but doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his hands and gaze on Stiles until the surgeon arrives.

“He has a wound on the back of his head, I kept pressure but it will need stitches,” the surgeon nods in understanding and takes his place at Stiles’ head, trying to get a response from the omega. Derek looks down at the rest of him, feeling and seeing the shiver the man bears, Derek growls at the sight.

“Why aren’t there more blankets? He’s still shivering,” he snarls at the room.

“Allow me to work,” the surgeon snaps sending Derek backward and off the omega.

The room fades in and out as he focuses everything he can on Stiles’ slow and declining heartbeat. He looks around the room as the doctor tries to open the omega’s eyes and secure a response. He sees Beta Scott crying and being held back by his mother, and the tortured expression on the lady’s faces.

“My valet saw you carry him in, is Omega Stiles alright,” Derek recognizes Isaac’s voice but does not spare him a glance.

“I do not know…”

“Are you alright,” Isaac asks, resting a hand on Derek’s shoulder. Every sound in the room amplifies, scratching his ears, and making his own head throb.

“It’s all my fault,” Derek whispers. “This is all my fault…”

Isaac calls his name but the familiar prick of tears in his eyes drags him away. Derek ignores his brother’s calls and the jacket he wrapped around the shivering omega. He flees the room and the wounded man that is only there because he could not control his urges. Stiles wouldn’t have been out there if Derek hadn’t done what he’d done last night. Something so lacking in honor that it drove Stiles to reckless abandon. It’s all his fault.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It’s been a week and still, Derek does not visit Stiles. The omega is still yet to wake and Derek has no intention of torturing himself or the family by remaining at the omega’s side. Not when he is to blame. His mother continues to send flowers, never allowing the family to see any wilting, a fresh bouquet always replacing the prior. Derek sends none. He marches into the sitting room to chastise his reckless family.

He lectures Jackson on the use of his funds and when Cora tries to snark with him he quickly dismisses her considering her lack of care and tact with propriety. Cora glares at him, her gaze lit with hatred, and asks to be excused. Isaac opens his mouth to which Derek tells him to go back to his doodling. Jackson follows after Cora with a glare of his own.

“Well, I suppose I have ‘doodling’ to do,” Isaac sneers, following his siblings out. Malia mutters some excuse and sprints from the room, Liam, is quick to follow his sister.

Derek closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, knowing he is transferring his anxiety onto the others.

“How is he,” Talia asks from her seat.

Derek blinks at his mother in confusion, “I do not know, I have not-”

“You haven’t gone to see him? It’s been a week,” she marvels, looking at Derek in confusion.

“Was I not clear that I have been busy,” Talia flinches at his growl and stares at him.

“I worry about you, Derek,” Talia’s expression is gentle despite Derek’s flaring temper.

“I do not have time for this.”

“Well,” Talia whispers, her eyes raw with hurt. “Perhaps you should make time.”

A soft whine falls from his lips as he fights the tears and closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

Stiles expects pain. All he felt before his consciousness escaped him was the sharp pain of his body colliding with the earth. But he wakes feeling light and well-rested for the first time in weeks. Keeping his eyes shut, he tests his movement, twitching his toes and feet, his hands, then scrunching his forehead. While doing his check, he feels a hand clutching his with borderline painful strength.

“You need to wake up. You can’t leave me like this we need to-” a soft sob cuts Scott off, his brother lapsing into silence.

Stiles forces one eye open, then the next, seeing Scott cradling his hand and hiding his face in the sheets. He swallows a few times and forces his mouth open to whisper his brother’s name. Scott looks at him with huge puppy eyes that always make Stiles smile. Scott’s veins stop running black at the shock of seeing him, then he’s screaming for the others.

“Do you remember,” Scott croaks, tears running down his face.

“I remember riding in the park and…” he stops to think about the pain again and remembers the fall. “I fell, oh, I’m so sorry. How worried you all must have been. I am so sorry-”

“Do not strain yourself, dear,” Melissa cuts in, stroking Stiles’ brow. “It does not matter, you are alright and it does not matter anymore.”

Stiles smiles at his stepmother and returns Scott’s desperate clutch. Everyone looks at him with radiant joy; Lady Morrell, Lady Melissa, Scott, the maid who scurries off the fetch the doctor…no one else is in the room. There are no brooding alphas with heavy frowns watching him and preparing to lecture him for being so stupid.

“Has Lord Hale come to see me,” Stiles winces at the sound of his voice paired with the uncomfortable expression on Lady Morrell’s face.

“He was the one who rescued you in the park, quite gallantly, and brought you here several days ago,” Lady Morrell answers instead. Stiles thinks of how he should be happy to hear this, to know the alpha was the only one to touch him, and that he carried him home but…the look on everyone’s face at his name pushes him to ask.

“And since?”

Lady Morrell does not answer but her face is answer enough. Melissa and Scott look down at the sheets the pair looking saddened by this information as well.

“I see,” Stiles whispers the tendrils of shame from that morning weaving their way back into his mind. “You are right, I should rest.”

Everyone agrees, Scott and Melissa settling across the room while Lady Morrell leaves him after a final pitying glance. Stiles turns onto his side for the first time in days and closes his eyes refusing to cry for the alpha yet again.

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

Derek is hunched over his papers when he hears his mother approach.

“I will join the family shortly,” he says, not wanting to argue with his mother again.

“Derek,” her tone is desperate. Fear clings to him as he meets his mother’s gaze, terrified he’ll see sorrow, and be informed of dreadful news. Instead, she smiles at him, a soft watery smile.

“He’s awake?”

Talia nods in agreement and all the tension and agony pressing into his chest vanishes. Derek drops his papers with a shaky exhale and presses his hands onto his face to hide from his mother and smother his tears. He feels his mother sit beside him, her scent wafting over him, but his breathing remains shallow and wet.

“To meet someone, find someone, like that it is…unimaginable. To find someone you love,” a tear does escape this time, but Derek doesn’t bother fighting it or his mother’s words.

“And I am so sorry that it was you who was with your father that day but not nearly as sorry as I am for the days that followed,” a sob interrupts Talia, “If I could go back, change everything, I would. How desperately i wish i could change it. It plagues me every day and every night and I-”

Derek does not look at his mother. Just cradles his face and silences his own sounds of agony to answer his mother.

“I do not think that I can see him,” Derek whimpers.

Talia turns towards him and takes his hand, “Losing your father was the most difficult time of my life. The pain was beyond words,” Derek nods and meets his mother’s tearful eyes his own eyes damp with his pain. “and yet, despite all the agony I felt, I would never wish to change my life. Every time, I would choose your father and the happiness and joys that came with him even with the tragic ending I knew was coming. I would, despite it all, choose to do it all again. Real, true love, is worth it. No matter what, so please, Derek, do not let him go.”

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

Stiles is still in bed, reclined low and basking in his pity when a figure enters the room. He adjusts his head to see who has come to distract him and nearly faints at the form standing a few feet away.

“Lord Hale,” the alpha’s expression is his usual careful and blank mask but it does twitch at the formal greeting. Stiles pushes himself up into a relaxed seat to take in the man before him.

In the man’s hands are a small bundle of tulips clutched in a lethal grip. The alpha bows to him and sets the flowers on a table and looks anywhere but at Stiles.

“I hear it was you who rescued me and kept me safe,” Stiles says, the alpha finally looking at him.

“I should be grateful for our meeting in the park. who knows where we’d be without it.”

Stiles nods and looks at his hands before replying, “Thank you for the flowers.” Alpha Hale nods at him but keeps his face blank and says nothing else.

“Was there something else, My Lord?”

The alpha scans him with those ridiculous eyes before speaking, “I called on you, the morning after.” Every muscle in Stiles’ body freezes at the mention of what happened, he expected the alpha to simply act as though it never occurred. “I called on you to apologize because I never should have-You deserved so much more than that and I took liberties…I did not want it to happen like that…”

“I came here to apologize-”

“Yes, you already said that.”

“I came here to apologize and ask you to marry me,” he blurts, looking surprised a his own statement.

Stiles is speechless once more. For so long he wanted this, to be the viscount’s, but it was simply impossible. He should be happy and relieved to finally be allowed to be the alpha’s and for the alpha to be his. His heart pounds at the statement as he stares at the man feeling ashamed. While he should be and wants to be happy, Stiles can’t help but feel that he is only doing this because of what they did and out of duty rather than desire or love.

This isn’t some primal confession of love and admiration, the alpha giving in to what he truly wants, this is a gentleman trying to remain a gentleman. An alpha righting his wrongs, the wrong being intimate with an omega he shouldnt have been with.

Being asked for his hand out of duty and guilt curdles his stomach with dread. Stiles would rather be alone for the rest of his life than marry due to their pity.

“Omega Stilinski, I am here and asking-”

“What? No, My Lord, I do not need you to ask me anything,” Stiles pleads.

The alpha looks as confident as ever, a ring box propped within his hands and opened to Stiles. Stiles avoids looking at the ring, knowing it’ll just make him sick, and shakes his head.

“Stiles, I-”

Stiles scoffs at the sound of his name falling from the mans lips, and lets panic guide his next words, “I am returning to Poland!” These words are finally enough to silence Derek.

“As soon as I am well and able enough to leave bed, I will resolve matters with Scott and return to Poland,” Stiles insists, staring at his own hands rather than the alpha’s.

“And what of your family’s finacial situation,” whatever hope Stiles had that this was a genuine proposal or the seeds of one, vanishes with his words. Definitely a request driven by duty, not love.

“Lady Morrell has been very kind to my family and will continue to sponsor Scott for another season. They will do perfectly well since it has been made quie obvious that I am of no help and frankly, only make matters worse.”

“You are running away,” he barely catches the soft words but he refuses to look at the alpha.

“I am doing what I should have done weeks ago. I am not needed nor wanted here so, Please go. Leave!”

Derek does not speak again and Stiles shakes with his grief as he waits for the alpha to leave.

The moment the bootsteps fade from his ears, Stiles curls onto the bed and cries. He cries until his eyes swell and run dry.

Chapter Text

Tired of his bedrest, Stiles forces himself up and grabs a cloak to keep him warm while he searches for Scott. He finds his brother on one of my windowsill cushions reading.

“Stiles! What are you doing, you must rest,” Scott urges, racing towards him.

“I promise you, I feel fine. Honestly, this is the most rested I’ve felt in years,” Scott frowns at the statement. “I know I am not worthy of your trust anymore and it will take a lot for me to deserve it once more but I am willing to try. However long it may take.”

“Stiles,” Scott sighs, slowly approaching him. “When you were in bed all i cared about was you getting better. Not about the weeks prior.” Relief washes over him as he smiles at his brother, “but I do have some questions now that you are well.”

“Was there always something between you and the viscount?” Stiles sighs at the question, so unsure of where his feelings began and where his hatred vanished.

“No, not always, though I couldn’t tell you when things shifted from anger to attraction,” Scott nods in acceptance. “It wasn’t me just lying to you, I was also lying to myself, still am at times. Even when I started to feel it I was so vehement with myself to not that I could’t tell my own truth from lies. There was something between us but I truly didn’t know what until it was too late.”

“But once you knew, why did you not tell me,” Scott whines. “You’d wake up in the morning smelling of salt and tears. I could smell your arousal, your embarassment, your sadness but wasn’t sure who it was for!”

“I thought I could deny my feelings,” Stiles cuts in, ignoring Scott’s eyeroll. “I was so sure I could deny them and overcome them but-”

“But they were too strong.”

A smile-more a grimace-tugs at his lips as Scott stares at him in pity.

“When I heard of your accident, all I could think about was how you’re entire life has been lived for the benefit and happiness of others, how you never do or take anything for yourself. How much time you have spent sacrificing yourself for this family…”

Scott walks up to him with his goofy grin and holds Stiles’ hands, “What I want more than anything is for us to be brothers, equals, in every meaning of the word. No more giving your happiness to sate mine and simply let us be brothers,” Stiles clutches Scott hands and laughs in agreement, blinking his tears away.

“Good. Now, how about we bring our new selves to the Argent Ball this evening?”

“Scott, I don’t know-”

“Do not go for me or for anyone else. Decide what you want to do and only go if you want to,” Stiles rushes into Scott, giving him a desperate and much needed hug. The pair remain hugging for a few minutes, basking in one another, and just existing together until Scott departs to prepare for the ball.

Despite reconciling with his brother, Stiles continues to pack away all his belongings, solidifying his last night in London. Stiles almost falters when he sees the bouquet of tulips and thinks back on the viscount but quickly brushes the thought aside. He made his decision and it is time for him to go home.

A knock on the door breaks him from his thoughts of heartbreak, Melissa smiling at him in her formal attire.

“Dearest, how are you feeling,” Melissa calls out, a beautiful smile gracing her lips.

Stiles doesn’t look at her when he answers, “Well, I am feeling well.”

“I see that you are not yet dressed for the ball,” Melissa chides making him wince.

“Yes, I have so much packing to do, I do not think I will have time to attend. That is, if I even want to, attend that is.”

A moment of silence falls over them, Melissa watching Stiles erratically pack, while Stiles tries not to let her gaze get to him.

“I hope you’re not returning to Poland in an effort to flee what has become difficult. I know that feeling all too well,” Stiles stops to look at his stepmother. “I can tell you, my dear, it is never the wise choice.”

Seeing his expression, Melissa pulls him into a firm hug.

“It is all my fault,” Stiles hiccups.

“Scott forgives you, I forgive you,” Melissa shushes his tears, gently rubbing his back. “It’s time to forgive yourself.”

“I was supposed to help us, help the family, and instead I-”

“This is also my fault,” Melissa interrupts, “You were never supposed to guide Scott alone and I failed you by letting you feel this was all your burden.”

“I owed you,” Stiles cries, pushing away from her embrace, “you took me in as your own when I needed you most, I owed you this!”

“Stiles,” Melissa cradles his face as another wave of tears rushes down his cheeks. “I have loved you and seen you as my own from the day I met you. Love is not something that is or should ever be owed. From the moment you came into my life, I saw you as my son.”

Stiles clenches his eyes shut in relief but also agony. A war of how good the words are to hear but also the bitterness of feeling as though he does not deserve to hear them.

“How it pains me that you do not believe that you deserve all the love in the world,” Melissa whispers, and Stiles breaks.

“He asked me to marry him; the viscount, and I could not allow it,” Stiles croaks, pushing away from her hands to collapse onto the edge of his bed.

“What?”

“He was only asking out of an obligation after the two of us-” Stiles cuts himself off when he remembers who he is talking to. “He doesn’t love me mom and I couldn’t-” Melissa pulls him into her chest once more at the name and his grief.

“Well, I would never tell anyone to go to a ball for a stupid alpha,” a wet chuckle escapes his lips, “but there is someone who will be quite disappointed if you do not go.”

“Scott,” Stiles sighs.

“Okay, two people, not including me,” Stiles pulls back with a frown, having no clue who the third could be.

Before he can answer, a soft knock on the doorway draws his attention. There, standing in the doorway is his father. Despite the cane propped beneath him, he looks every bit like his usual and healthy self, a warm smile on his face.

“Father,” Stiles cries as he races across the room and into his father’s arms as gently as he can manage.

“Son, as much as I love you, you cannot wear that to a ball,” Stiles giggles at his father’s teasing, ignoring the ache in his chest from how much he missed his old man.

“What are you doing here? Should you even be moving around? Your last letter said-”

“I was lying. The doctor said I was making a good recovery and I wanted to try and surprise you only to hear you’re packing your bags.”

“Father-”

“You can tell me everything later. Right now, you need to get dressed. You know how much I hate these things unless I have you with me,” Stiles stares at his father, eying him for any weakness he may be able to detect. But his father looks healthy and happy so Stiles hugs him again and agrees.

“Come, Noah, I’ll fill you in on the details of late while Stiles gets dressed,” Melissa says, offering her arm to his father.

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

Derek’s wolf has barely stopped howling at the night grows darker. He sits at his desk lost in the events of the season and the mess he has made. How Stiles’ smell was polluted with embarrassment…why? Derek doesn’t understand nor is he sure how to understand. He’s never been good with words and that has never done as much damage as it has today.

The door to the room opens, breaking him of his reverie.

“Brother?”

“Liam,” Derek puzzles, seeing his youngest brother nervous and staring at him in fear. “Why are you not in bed,” Derek keeps his tone light, not wanting to scare him off as he did the other day.

“I cannot sleep,” Liam grumbles.

Concern washes over Derek at his brother’s expression, “is something wrong?”

“My teacher seems to think so…he yelled at me. He thinks I’m stupid,” Derek frowns at his brother and his defeated stance. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with this. I’ll go back to bed.”

“Liam wait,” Derek rises from his desk and gestures for Liam to come closer. “Your Latin teacher does not think you are stupid he is just frightened of me.”

Liam gives him an adorable frown at the comment, not following Derek at all. Derek sighs at the situation he’s put his brother and his entire family in simply because he is too afraid to feel.

“I have put too much pressure on him and you,” Derek sighs. “I’ve been putting too much pressure on everyone…”

Liam looks away from his sad gaze and instead wanders the office. His eyes flick to and fro, never having been here long enough to do so before, until he stops on the painting of their father.

“Am I like him at all? Or was he more like you?”

Derek frowns at the question and how nervous Liam still looks. He thinks of Stiles and how close him and his brother are despite Stiles still taking care of him every step of the way. He also thinks of how Liam has and will have to grow up without a father or fatherly affection. That is something that Derek can be there for even if he is simply an older brother.

“He was-” Derek swallows down the emotions that always rise when speaking of their father. They never speak of him and that is something he must change.

“He was like both of us, really. He had my seriousness, of course,” Liam smiles at that making Derek smile. “Though, he shared your love of pranks.”

Liam beams at this admission, “did he really?”

Derek nods and walks over to stand beside Liam and look at their father’s portrait together.

“He once put glue in Isaac’s shoes,” Derek chuckles, Liam giggling at the thought.

“I wish I could’ve played a prank on him,” Liam marvels.

Derek looks away from their father to see Liam’s wisftul but happy expression. An expression there because of Derek and that silences his wolf’s agony. While it hurts to think of his father and the way he will never be there for any of them, at least Derek is here, and he can give Liam the memories and the love of their father.

“I wish you could too.”

“We do not talk about him enough, do we,” Derek asks, breaking the silence.

“I feel as though I know nothing about him.”

“That is because I have shown up far too late for too many things,” Derek sighs, pulling his brother against his side and rubbing his cheek on top his head. Scent marking him. Something he has not done in far too long.

“Father was the best man I have ever known. He was always there for good laugh but he was also so brave. He was always ready for a fight and never afraid. But he also knew when not to fight. When to stand down…”

His father, who loved more and better than any man he knew, would fight. Derek has always wanted to be like his father and perhaps it is time to fight as he would.

Chapter Text

Seeing as no one attended their ball, the crowd is whispering and lively at the appearance of their family attending the last ball of the season. Derek ignores them and gives his mother his arm to circle the room. He will not be deterred from his mission tonight, regardless of what the ton has to say about him or his family.

It is upon another crescendo of whispering that Derek turns to attention, spotting the Stilinski brothers taking the floor together. Derek can only assume that his face is twisted into a soft and fond smile as he watches the brothers laugh and twirl together. Stiles looks healthier than ever-all the sleep must have been just what he needed-as he glows in the candlelight.

Derek watches their every step and twist with an all-consuming ache burning with him. How desperately he craves to be the reason Stiles smiles like so and to be the one spinning him around the dance floor. Doing his best to be subtle, Derek pretends to converse with others as close to the brothers as possible so he can pry into their conversation.

“You cannot avoid him all night,” Scott chuckles to his brother over the rim of his glass, “and you shouldn’t try to. Not on my behalf.”

“Scott,” Stiles tries to no avail.

“Please be the Stiles I know and love,” Derek cranes his neck to hear their softened conversation, “be bold and brash and unafraid of love, just as you always have been. You’ve been fighting yourself for far too long for my sake and it’s time you put yourself first.”

Derek watches Scott walk away and takes his chance. Weaving through the guests, Derek maneuvers himself behind the omega, taking a greedy inhale of his scent upon arrival. Stiles barely startles when he sees him, recovering easily with a soft, ‘Lord Hale’ that makes his spine tingle.

He knows the omega is well and healed but his wolf savors the close proximity and the chance to survey the man for himself. Stiles’ scent is as heady and alluring as ever with not a single trace of pain lingering. If anything, his scent brightens at the sight of Derek.

“I was just about to head outside unless-”

“others may pity me, injuring my head recently and now dancing,” Stiles cuts in, his amber eyes glowing with mischief. “Perhaps I need someone to steady me? Make sure I am alright?”

Derek smiles at the man. This man is somehow the bane of existence, the one thing that makes his mortality terrifying rather than ordinary, and also the reason he’s eager to wake each day. This man who has spun him round and round in agonizing circles of ‘go away’ and ‘never leave’, that leaves Derek dizzy and unstable for hours after their meetings. This man with his constellations of freckles that beg to be kissed and praised and those eyes that ignite with every emotion that consumes him…

Derek lifts three fingers between their faces, “How many,” he whispers.

“Three.”

He flips his palm towards himself, as if to verify that there are truly three, and flicks out his pinky as he does. Stiles narrows his eyes but his lips betray his amusement. Derek winks at him and the faux annoyance.

“are you going to ask me to dance, Alpha Hale, one last time?”

All amusement leaks from him at the question, “are you going to say yes?” Rather than answer his insecurity, Stiles stretches his hand towards Derek, and Derek slides it into his own.

As the strings fall into a melody, so do Derek and Stiles. They begin their steps, weaving back and forth with one another, arms locking in different positions. He wants to bask in the moment and live there forever but the crowd’s whispers are growing. The other couples slowly tamper off, leaving just Stiles and Derek on the floor. Derek watches Stiles register what is happening and nearly trips upon realizing they are all that is left.

“do you want to stop,” Stiles whispers, his heart racing, and his scent souring.

“Just look at me,” Derek pleads, “Nothing else matters.”

He knows some of the guests will hear his words but Derek is so tired. Tired of hiding and being viscount all the time when he just wants to be an alpha, an alpha that has fallen in love and is consumed by this omega. A couple of harsh whispers of this being why the wedding was called off almost make him lose his composure but the sound of the king belittling them and insisting on the wedding ending by his design puts the rumor to rest. Not to mention the king insisting they look beautiful together.

Derek grins at the king’s loyalty and Stiles looks up at him in suspicion, “I can’t imagine they’re saying anything so amusing,” Stiles huffs.

“Not so much but the king insisting on us being a beautiful pair is more than satisfying.”

A beautiful blush clings to omega’s cheeks along with a blinding smile. Thanks to the king’s meddling, the couples return to the floor, allowing Derek to lose himself in the dance.

As the song dwindles down, so do their smiles. With the final notes, Derek and Stiles are nose to nose, gazing into one another’s eyes with silent desperation until the song is finally finished and they spin apart. Derek keeps a firm grip on Stiles’ left hand, having no intention of letting the omega go until he can say all he has to say and feel on the matter. The host comes to call everyone outside but Derek holds firm to the omega’s hand waiting for him to decide.

Stiles’ eyes turn glossy as he peers back at Derek one last time before vanishing into the crowd with a shake of his head. Derek stares after his frame for far longer than he should, frozen and lost without Stiles’ golden eyes to guide him.

“Alpha Hale, may I call you that,” Derek turns to the stranger speaking to him, a cane propped beneath his left hand.

Derek opens his mouth to politely inquire as to who the gentleman is but is cut off by the man himself, “My apologies if I offended you, My Lord, I just assumed since you were so close with my son I could drop some formality.” it takes longer than Derek would care to admit to catch on the man and his amused brow and that familiar gleam in his eyes.

“Of course not sir, you could never offend me,” Derek stumbles, lost as to how the man even got here, and when. If Derek would’ve known this was a possibility he would’ve sent for the man weeks ago.

“Forgive me, sir, I did not know you were in town or I would’ve-”

“Let’s save ourselves the time and embarrassment this conversation will bring and let me just say what I need to say.”

Derek loathes being interrupted, always has, yet with this man, he just nods along and stares into those amused blue eyes. His demeanor and way of speaking so similar to Stiles it makes Derek ache.

“My son-as much as I love him-will do what he wants and however he wants to do it. So, asking me for his hand, while appreciated by me, is pointless. He knows who and what he wants and I will stand beside him on the matter of who he chooses. Not to mention the only interaction I’ve seen of the two of you I have no doubt you’d let my son walk all over you.”

Derek knows he’s blushing at the man’s words but doesn’t bother denying them. He is right, after all, he’d let Stiles do and say anything to him.

“From what I’ve heard of you, I’m sure you’d rather die than hurt my son so rather than threaten you or intimidate you, I”m here to offer some advice,” Derek nods along to the man’s words desperate for anything to win Stiles over once and for all. “Ask him again. Ask him and tell him everything you may be afraid to say out loud and he won’t refuse. And when he tries to say he needs to go home to look after me, tell him that I’ll be staying in London for my recovery.”

“So, quit standing there and go find go tell him how much you love him,” Derek smiles despite his embarrassment and turns to follow Stiles’ scent. "Oh, one last thing-”

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

Stiles finds the most secluded area of the gardens possible and waits for the show there. He feels guilty for leaving his father but he knows Melissa will take care of him. So Stiles stands by himself, as usual, and waits for the night to end.

The crunching of leaves and scuffing boots alerts him to a visitor. Stiles expects his brother to search for him and sways when he sees the alpha he fled from him looking at him.

“Your father told me he will be staying in London for a while. Will you be staying as well?”

A bitter chuckle falls from his lips at the question, “He seems determined to have me stay but I think I’ve done enough in London without causing my family more strife.”

“You love your family dearly,” Stiles looks away from the alpha’s raw expression.

“As much as you love yours.”

“I was terrified,” Stiles looks back into those hypnotizing eyes, “after your accident, I was terrified of losing you. That is why I did not visit you.”

Stiles’ heart pounds against his chest at the earnest statement and the gentle expression on the man’s face. His brain races in an attempt to respond but he is once more, speechless, because of this alpha.

“I love you.” Stiles will later cringe at the gasp he lets escape upon hearing those words but now, now he struggles to stand. Derek stands before him, eyes searching his with desperation, and his hands clenched at his sides as though to stop himself from touching Stiles.

“I have loved you since that morning in the park and I have been in love with you during every argument, every dance, and every moment in between. Every moment I have known that it had to be as my mate or no one. Whether we have been together or apart I have been in love with you and I am not saying this to make you feel as though you must accept it or embrace it. Or, knowing you, allow it. But you must know how desperately in love with you I am and how it consumes me night and day. I love you.”

“I do not know what to say,” yet again his mind and his heart clash within him, each one desperate to answer this confession. A confession, Stiles knows in his bones, that is true.

“You do not have to say anything,” some of the emotion, the openness, leaves the alpha at his response and that finally stirs Stiles into action.

“I do not know what to say other than, I love you too.”

“You do,” the alpha sighs, his shoulders dropping in relief. Stiles nods at him with watery eyes and a soft smile.

A gentle and raw smile takes Derek’s face as he approaches Stiles and cradles his face in his warm palms.

“I know I am imperfect but I will bare my soul to you because I cannot imagine a single day without you and that is why I wish to marry you.”

Stiles closes his eyes from the overwhelming sight of the alpha before him. He closes his eyes and focuses on the hands so strong and powerful yet how delicately they hold his face. He inhales the heady scent of the man he loves and the knowledge that he will get to have this every day for the rest of his life.

“You know, you are supposed to ask my father for my hand,” Stiles muses, wanting to rile the alpha. He opens his eyes expecting a scowl and instead receives a smirk that has his stomach fluttering.

“is that so,  Mieczyslaw,” the way the alpha whispers his name against his lips while their noses graze each other sends a wave of heat through Stiles. Not only hearing his name but the perfect pronunciation along with the man knowing him well enough to know that he didn’t need the permission but still received it.

“Well, it looks as though we are finally seeing eye to eye,” Stiles giggles, a soft growl coming from Derek. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Stiles barely catches the large grin on Derek’s lips before their mouths meet once again, fireworks echo behind them and Stiles giggles at how cliche his life has become. Derek breaks their kiss, both grinning too much to do anything besides smile into each other.

“My mate,” Derek sighs.

“My mate,” Stiles echoes, feeling lighter than he has in his entire life.

Chapter Text

To say their wedding night had to be expedited would be an understatement.

With Stiles accepting Derek’s proposal the night of the ball, the two were inseparable. Both families, Stilinski and Hale had to monitor their every interaction with utmost care. Neither would even realize how inappropriate their words or actions were until pointed out by another. The two also having already known the touch of the other made it even harder for them to keep their hands to themselves.

Poor Isaac has walked in on the pair in increasingly compromising kisses until he screamed for his mother and demanded someone make it stop.

His majesty having been scorned by the first intended couple, concedes that they can marry and choose their location. So a small ceremony is held with his majesty also attending at Aubrey Hall. A wedding that perfectly suited Stiles and Derek held in the afternoon so the evening would come sooner for the couple. Rather than rushing to a new location for their honeymoon, the couple chose the hall as their start, rushing family and friends back to the city as fast as they could.

- - - - -

Stiles expects their mating to be rough, fast, and messy after weeks of pent up urges finally being released. This expectation only increases when Derek drags him into their room and pins him against the door. So, as Derek scrapes his teeth and stubble all over his neck, Stiles shakes with anticipation.

He remembers the frantic rutting from last time and the excess of Derek’s cum all over his flesh to end their frantic release. Slick leaks out of at the memory and sensation of Derek’s palms squeezing his ass.

Using the grip, Derek lifts Stiles up and into his broad chest. Stiles wastes no time wrapping his legs around the alpha and taking the opportunity to tongue the alphas neck and nibble temporary marks.

Stiles is tossed onto the bed and quickly divulged of his ceremony clothes by his eager alpha. Derek shreds his own clothes with lycan speed so he can pounce onto Stiles once more. He expects the alpha to slip right into him, no doubt able to smell how wet and open he is just from the kissing and anticipation. And yet…

Scarlet eyes look down into his then slowly move down his body. They watch Stiles and his every reaction to every kiss, nibble, and lick Derek makes over every inch of Stiles’ body. Stiles writhes and moans at the stubble teasing every inch of his chest, stomach, and hips.

He’s surprised yet again when Derek avoids his dick and moves back up to place random kisses across his chest again. Each one has no rhyme or reason until Derek continues down his legs and Stiles understands; his freckles, the alpha is kissing every freckle he sees from top to bottom while he slowly presses one finger, then another, and another into Stiles. Preparing him with slow, teasing drags, never rushing their movement. 

If he could fall even more in love with the alpha he would, instead his heart feels as though it’ll burst if Derek doesn’t stop and get to the main event. The alpha doesn’t, he continues to explore every inch of Stiles until he fears he’ll come any second or from a mere exhale on his cock.

“Alpha please, please,” he pants, too overwhelmed to say what he’s begging for, but Derek seems to understand.

Finally, he watches Derek take hold of his beautiful, large, and uncut cock to guide it towards Stiles’ opening. Stiles admiring every inch of it that he was unable to enjoy last time. 

Vibrant eyes focus on their joining, Derek pushing just the tip into Stiles which is enough to make him moan and clutch Derek’s arms. Derek still doesnt thrust forward to Stiles’ frustration. Instead, he drops onto his elbows to enclose Stiles’ head and clutches Stiles’ hips with his massive thighs to completely engulf Stiles with his body. The alphas large frame wrapping around and completely engulfing his lithe frame. 

Stiles tries to use his calves to press Derek forward and his feet to press into the alpha’s lower back, to no avail. When Derek’s eyes finally meet his, he opens his mouth to sass his husband only for Derek to finally push his hips forward in one smooth glide.A loud moan rips from his throat as their hips are finally flush to one another. At the sound, sensation, or both, Derek’s fang descend and his eyes flare even brighter making Stiles moan again.

Somehow surprising him again, Derek starts a slow slide of his hips, back and forth. Each thrust ending on a deep grind that makes Stiles gasp for air and his toes curl. Every drag of his large cock inside him makes Stiles want to squirm and writhe but the much larger alpha uses all of his size and strength to keep Stiles cradled underneath him, incapable of moving even an inch, which just makes Stiles even more flushed.

Pressing their foreheads together, Derek tells him how good he is, how amazing he feels, how Stiles was made to take him, their eyes locked onto each other with every move and word. Stiles whimpers and whines between deep pants of pleasure, nonsense and a steady stream of ‘alpha’ coming from his lips.

No matter how much he begs or trembles, Derek keeps the steady and slow pace, and that deep grind that has Stiles whining in slowly rising pitch each time. It’s heaven, its torture, and madness that has Stiles so blissed out he’s not sure how long they’ve been at it or what he’s even saying to his alpha anymore. 

It could be minutes or hours later that he feels the swelling at the base of Derek’s cock grazing his hole and getting caught on the deep grinds. The sensation has him scrambling his legs even higher on Derek’s back slipping on their sweat.

“Please, give it to me, please,-“ he cuts off with a cry as Derek stops his thrusts and slips out of Stiles entirely. “No! What are you doing?”

Derek shushes him and slips his arms under Stiles and around his back and flips them in an instant. Stiles looks down at Derek with what he’s sure is an embarrassing pout, angry at him for stopping.

“You’ll be more comfortable like this, trust me, c’mere,” Derek whispers, one of his arms guiding his cock back into him and fully sheathing himself with one firm thrust, going even deeper in the new position.

Stiles collapses onto his chest with a relieved sigh at being full again. Derek pauses his thrusts to wrap one arm around Stiles’ lower back, his other pressing Stiles into him by his shoulders with his hand grasping the back of Stiles’ neck. Stiles bends his knees as Derek’s thighs lift up allowing his feet to press into the bed and use it as leverage to thrust deep and hard but keeping the same slow thrusts with their deep grind. 

Even with his knot forming and the new position, the thrusts remain the same speed, reaching even deeper. Stiles grips and tugs on the sheets above them as the bliss of their mating consumes him. He pants and whispers how good it feels, how full he feels, how good his alpha is until all he say is alpha on repeat as his cock leaks all over their stomachs in steady stream as the knot fights his rim a little more with each thrust.

“My perfect omega,” is all the warning he gets before Derek tugs stiles down by his shoulder while he thrusts up, forcing his knot into his hole one final time. Once in, Derek swivels his hips to push his knot in as deep as it can go until Stiles feels ready to burst.

“Oh my god it feels so good,” Stiles whines as his clenches his eyes and focuses on grinding onto Derek’s knot as hard as he can. His voice finally coming back to him as he drools onto his husband and pants into his shoulder.

Derek curses and tosses his head back at the pressure of Stiles’ hole clenching his knot in desperation. “So perfect, so perfect and good for me, gonna knot you everyday, always going to be full of my cum.”

“Yes,” Stiles shouts, his eyes shooting open to meet Derek’s. “God, yes alpha, fill me up!”

With that, Derek’s orgasm crashes over him. Dragging Stiles’ hips down one final time, Derek’s fangs latch onto Stiles’ neck, making Stiles tighten even further.

The first pulse of the knot floods cum deep into Stiles, leaving him whimpering as his eyes roll back once more and he collapses onto Derek’s chest. He rotates his hips one more time with their chests aligned, the knot pressing into a spot inside that makes Stiles see stars. His cock releases in between them while his hole twitches and quivers around Derek and his legs shake with pleasure. The sensation of Stiles’ orgasm ripping through him draws another spurt of his knot to release, both of them moaning at the feeling.

They remain speechless as Derek’s knot continues to pulse and flood him a couple more times, Stiles twitching every time the cum coats his walls, and distends his stomach with the amount of it. Derek keeps his teeth embedded in Stiles’ neck, a deep growl vibrating his chest and keeping Stiles’ pleasure on an endless feedback loop.

Stiles will have to give him his bite next round, this round he’s too blissed out to do or say anything beyond the slurred words of, “so good, feels so good, so full.”