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Chapter Text

Stiles first learned about the supernatural community when he was a little kid. His mom was an activist and heavily involved in making Beacon Hills a safe place for the supernatural, especially those seeking refuge. The laws she and Talia Hale put in place, enforced by Stiles’ father John, created a safe place for those in need and those already in town. Drawn to the town by the conduit that is the Nemeton, all things supernatural found their home.

Nearly a decade later and she’s gone, but the laws have held. And with the laws came an influx of new residents, mostly of the supernatural variety. And with this, has come an influx of talk about mates. Mates are a supernatural thing, everyone claims, so they usually only happen between supernatural people, but Stiles was born with a phrase written right below his right clavicle. This happens to very few non-supernatural people, which means it’s highly sought after and wanted. There are movies on movies of rare first meetings, hearing someone say the words engraved on your body, souls igniting. It all sounds so romantic that Stiles feels blessed to be one of the lucky few with a phrase on their skin. He can’t wait until he meets his mate.

Because the odds are 100%. Everyone that has a phrase, meets their mate. It’s a 100% guarantee of meeting the love of your life, and, on top of that, studies show that almost all people meet their mates within the first twenty-five years of their life, and despite having less than ten years til the cut off, Stiles is confident that with all these people, this influx of new residents coming to town, there’s bound to be somebody that he’s destined to meet among them. Beacon Hills is a relatively big town, and Stiles has yet to meet everyone in town, at least all the supernatural creatures, so he’s guaranteed one day to finally meet the right person, with the hopes that they are in Beacon Hills. But living almost seventeen years in one place is pretty good odds, so if he just meets everybody in Beacon Hills, then he should be fine. 

Right? Right.

Stiles fusses with the collar of his shirt. He’s at another one of those stuffy meetings his dad has to do with all the important members of the town. Talia Hale and Chris Argent head the meetings, as the two financial backers for most Beacon Hills related things and John has to attend because he’s Sheriff and trying to keep the peace between Chris and Talia, who actually sort of get along, if not for the politics of it all. Plus the Hales are all werewolves, and the Argents Hunters, and Stiles’ dad represents the humans, so they all have to keep perspective.

Each member at the table brings their kids, so Chris’ daughter Allison, who happens to be dating Stiles’ best friend Scott, and Talia’s kids Cora, Derek, and Laura, are all in attendance too. Stiles likes Laura. She’s like a mini Talia but a little more punk rock. And Cora’s like a mini Laura, but with a lot more attitude. And Derek’s… well, Derek’s complicated. He doesn’t speak, just glares. He, Laura, and Cora all go to the supernatural school at the edge of town – an unfortunate and unnecessary, in Stiles’ eyes, segregation that unfortunately kind of proved a tiny bit understandable during the first couple years of the influx when Beacon Hills High School became so flooded that each classroom held over fifty students – so Stiles only sees them for these meetings, during which Laura is a dutiful listener, Cora flings peas at him, Allison texts Scott under the table, and Derek glares. Stiles doesn’t know why, but because of this, he has made it his duty to be as nice to Derek as possible.

And it doesn’t happen with anyone else. Derek is respectful to the adults, polite if a little hostile to Allison, and annoyed by his sisters, but he doesn’t glare at anyone the way he glares at Stiles.

Chris laughs coldly at something Talia says and she fake laughs back. Cora rolls her eyes and Allison blows out a breath as Stiles smiles at Derek. Derek glares harder.

Allison nudges Stiles’ foot and he leans over as she shows him a photo of Scott holding a puppy under the table. She makes a pouting face and Stiles laughs silently, leaning back in his seat. He makes eyes with Derek again, who’s still scowling.

See, the thing is that Stiles’ words are kind of weird. He knows that there are plenty of stories of people having weird phrases like watch out! and your theater will be on the right and things of that nature. But Stiles’ phrase is do you ever shut up? It’s kind of weird, not the weirdest, but it’s so… harsh. Stiles used to try to get people to say his phrase on purpose, saying the most random things he could think of just to trick somebody into talking to him. But he always got disappointed when people didn’t react the way he wanted them to, so he stopped. 

Some people talk about the fact that when they meet their mate, they feel different around them. Some people describe it as a kind of feeling, others as intuition, almost like an instant crush, like love at first sight. Stiles has obviously never felt it, but he feels a way about Derek he doesn’t know how to describe. He isn’t sure if it’s because he wants Derek to like him, or maybe just stop hating him, but he feels… differently around him. Maybe it’s just a crush, but Stiles has had plenty of crushes before and it’s never felt like this.

(Stiles used to pray that Lydia Martin would have his words. Young and desperate, he said a lot at once but all she said was, “I’m not interested, Stilinski,” and walked off. Stiles had sobbed into his mom’s side for hours. Since then, it’s been just a daydream that someone as beautiful and incredible as Lydia Martin would be his mate. Stiles has had a crush on her the whole time and even that crush doesn’t feel like this.)

Because what he feels around Derek is something like hope. The man has never said anything to him so he has all the potential to say something, like Stiles’ phrase. And Derek seems like the type to say, a button push away from a full mental and emotional breakdown and luckily for the both of them, Stiles likes to push buttons.

“Did you hear that, Stiles?” John asks. Stiles looks up from where he’s staring at Derek, who is still glaring.

“What?”

“The mating conference that’s taking place this year? It’s this weekend,” John reminds him with fond exasperation.

“Oh, great!” Stiles smiles. He loves the mating conferences, just another excuse to meet the supernatural creatures of Beacon Hills quicker and potentially find the one person meant for him.

“Yes, Derek and I will be there as well,” Talia tells them smoothly.

Stiles smiles at Derek, hope building in his chest. “You have a phrase?”

Derek glares harder. 

“He’s very shy about it,” Talia says. “It’s not something he talks about often.”

“I’m surprised he talks about anything,” Stiles mutters and John kicks him, considering that the Hales can hear perfectly. Stiles gives them a sheepish, apologetic look before returning to his food.

“How funny would it be if Derek and Stiles were mates,” Cora laughs into her mashed potatoes.

For once, Derek turns his glare on her.

“Yeah,” Stiles laughs nervously. “Funny.”

+++

Despite the laws and integration, not everything is as peaceful as it should be. Schools are segregated, but nothing else, though most call for it. Partly in fear for their children, partly in fear for their pride, the idea of segregation is brought up again and again and shot down every time by just barely enough votes. The idea doesn’t stem just from humans; some supernatural creatures believe in the idea of segregation for their own safety from the humans and some for their superiority complex. Talia, one of the head chairmen on the council that makes these decisions, fights every day for peace and prosperity.

Mostly everybody Stiles knows believes in integration, but there are a couple of his classmates and friends, namely Jackson, who believe that supernatural creatures should be kept separate. This being said, Jackson isn’t really his friend.

Jackson’s going on another tirade at lunch, which means Stiles does what he always does and ignores him, but he’s starting to get annoying.

“Werewolves have enhanced everything, they’re dangerous,” Jackson reiterates. Lydia rolls her eyes. “We’re better kept separate.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to be them,” Stiles laughs, unable to help himself. Jackson glares.

“Werewolves are freaks and so are you. You’re a freak for having that mark, Stilinski,” Jackson sneers. 

Stiles rolls his eyes as Allison says, “Jackson!”

Scott shakes his head at Jackson. “Not cool, man,” he mutters, turning to Stiles. “You good?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Stiles says earnestly.

And he’s heard it all before. People seem to be torn between hating him, envying him, and being scared of him, saying he’s marked and cursed. Which is true, the marked part anyway, but they mean it in a negative Salem-witch sort of context. Some religious people even consider mate marks signs of the devil, not that Stiles believes in any of that, but it’s hard hearing sometimes.

One of the worst parts about having the soulmark is what his says. Do you ever shut up? is an admittedly aggressive phrase, apt for Stiles, but still kind of aggressive. He wonders what phrase he left on whomever’s his mate, probably something lengthy or stupid, or downright rude as well. He’s not known for having a filter.

So having do you ever shut up? on his body, and having it right below his right clavicle has made for some pretty terrible moments in the locker room, especially when people like Jackson exist. They’re not even friends, barely by proxy, considering Jackson is attached to Lydia and Lydia is attached to Allison and Stiles is friends with Allison but knows her more through Scott than anything else. Why Lydia hangs out with douches like Jackson, who used to pull down Stiles’ shirt to look and point and laugh at the words there, Stiles will never know.

But Stiles refuses to feel bad about his mark. He loves his mark, it’s special and it makes him special and it connects him to the one person who’s going to love him more than anyone else in the world. Why wouldn’t he love it?

So no matter how much people try to make him feel guilty about it, he refuses. Especially people like Jackson, whose terrible opinions don’t matter anyway.

Still, it’s hard to remember that sometimes.

Stiles slumps in his seat as Scott gets pulled into a conversation with Allison, poking at his macaroni.

+++

The mating convention is about as elaborate as Stiles is expecting, which is to say not much. They were established in the last five years and people come from all over the great state of California to register. Stiles has been registered every year for the last three years, ever since he became a teenager, in the underage division. While it’s possible for mates to be spread across the underage and of age divisions, it’s more likely for Stiles to find a mate within a couple of years of him, just according to statistics. No one knows why, like most things regarding mates, but it’s happened enough times that they just accept them as facts at this point.

Every person in attendance has a mark, and most of the organizers belong to an already mated pair. Stiles has come here every year with his dad, and this year’s no different. He’s wearing his best flannel and T-shirt combo, and now that his hair’s finally growing out, he thinks he looks real good. His dad also gives compliments when prompted, which Stiles appreciates.

“Are you sure I look good?” Stiles asks again as they walk into the small convention center. It was built specifically for this purpose, so it easily holds the throngs of people already inside and registered, marking them as such with highlighter pink wristbands.

“Yes, Stiles,” his dad says again, patting him on the back. “I promise you look fine. Besides, if you do meet your mate today, I doubt they’ll be much worried about how you look.”

“Yes, but it’s always good to make a good first impression,” Stiles insists, but preens under the compliment, adjusting his flannel.

They head to the registration table and Maria, who’s always here every year, greets Stiles like she does every year.

“Stiles, so handsome,” she comments, her thick accent tangling the words. Stiles preens, turning on the charm.

“Thank you, Maria. Beautiful as ever yourself.”

Maria laughs. 

“Such a charmer. I’m sure you’ll meet your mate this year,” she tells him with a wink. Stiles grins.

“That’s the goal! Send anyone cute my way,” he says conspiratorially with a responding wink.

She laughs again, stapling his paperwork and organizing it properly before standing up to put the wristband around his wrist.

“Will do. You two have fun.”

Maria sends them on their way to the second meeting hall. The pool is a little heavier for the underage division, considering everyone has their marks since birth and it’s pretty common to mate young as a supernatural. As usual, there are only a few humans here, partly due to the rarity of humans having the marks, but partly also due to the stigma about the marks, which prevents a lot of underage humans from finding their mate. It’s kind of sad, but then Stiles remembers that everyone meets their mate one way or another and he feels a little less sad about it.

(But the years in between birth and the Moment – capital M – when you meet your mate, those are the loneliness. Knowing someone special is out there waiting for you but having no way of meeting them or contacting them any sooner than destiny sees fit, it’s disheartening. Stiles wonders if there are statistics regarding the amount of people who give up in the in between. They find their mates one day, but how far away is that day? Almost everything surrounding mates isn’t an exact science, and Stiles has always been too afraid to search for a specific number, because what if he’s in the inferior percentile? He doesn’t want to think about it.)

The room is filled with most people he’s already seen before, over the years, though there are a few noticeable differences. Some people who were here years previous are not in attendance and Stiles can only assume that they’ve found their mates, preferring not to think of them just giving up. He’s happy for them, if not a little envious.

Then he spots her, all the way across the room.

“Dad, I’ll be right back!” Stiles announces and makes his way across the room before his dad can say anything, sidling up against the wall next to Margaret, who looks up at him from her chair and grins.

“Stiles,” she says warmly. “Shouldn’t you be mingling?”

Margaret is an eighty-seven-year-old woman who helps oversee the event. She’s a human and her mate died the year Stiles met her, but it hasn’t dampened her spirits. Every time she sees Stiles, she’s all smiles and winks, his co-conspirator and favorite gossip who tells him who’s mated to whom and who are new attendants. Stiles absolutely adores her and though he does see her around town and on certain days of the week, his favorite part about mating conventions is her company.

“Pegs,” Stiles says, affectionately calling her the nickname he’s developed after accidentally learning her mate called her Peggy. “You know I have to see my favorite girl.”

“Hush, now, your mate will get jealous,” Margaret laughs. She gestures around the room. “See anyone you like?”

The supernatural school has good pickings, as far as Stiles can tell. He’s made the joke one too many times about everybody being supernaturally beautiful, which Scott always rolls his eyes at and Allison giggles, but it’s really quite true. He doesn’t know what they put in the water at that school, but whatever it is sure is helping.

Then he sees Derek and feels himself pause and hears Margaret’s, “Oh? The Hale boy.” Derek doesn’t look over at them, but his face sours slightly and Stiles thinks that maybe he heard her anyway.

Derek looks good, dressed in an olive green Henley that no doubt his mother picked out for him. In tow are his sisters, but Stiles isn’t sure if either of them are participating as he can’t see their wristbands. Margaret turns to him.

“You know him?”

“Through politics,” Stiles dismisses. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“Why? What’s he said to you?”

“Nothing. Literally nothing. He doesn’t speak, just glares. His eyebrows do the communicating for him.”

Margaret laughs. She shuffles the flyers in her lap.

“Sounds pretty wolfy. Son of an alpha, I bet he’s scrappy,” Margaret whispers out of the side of her mouth. Stiles laughs and turns toward her.

“I don’t mind him. His sisters are cool and his mom’s pretty great, but he seems to have some problem with me. And it’s just him. And I don’t know why.”

“He’s probably just a fool,” Margaret declares. “No need to worry about him. Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you isn’t worth your time, I learned that the hard way. Besides, you just need to focus on finding your mate. Once you find your mate, the rest of your life will begin.”

From there, Margaret launches into a story about meeting her mate, Georgia, and how magical it was. Stiles has heard the story a hundred times before, and they’re both aware of that, but Stiles loves hearing it and Margaret loves telling it.

Distantly, out of the corner of his eye, he sees his dad make his way over to Talia and start talking to her. He sees him wave in Stiles’ direction and sees all four Hales turn to face him. Talia walks over, her children in tow.

“Stiles, so nice to see you. And Margaret Klein, good to see you as well,” Talia greets.

“Talia,” Margaret says with a polite smile. “These must be your kids.”

“Laura, my second, and Derek and Cora,” Talia returns, naming each child as she points at them. “I don’t think you’ve met them.”

“I haven’t. Nice to meet you all. Anyone unmated?”

“I found my mate at school this year,” Laura offers with a smile. It’s kind of lovesick, which is cute.

“Derek’s looking for his mate today and Cora has no mark,” Talia tells her factually. 

“Well, we’re always happy to widen the pool,” Margaret says, “especially when they’re so young. It’s so nice to find your mate young.”

Margaret stands up and pats Laura on the shoulder, who smiles bashfully, before moving to grab a box next to her.

“Here, let me help you,” Stiles says, moving around her and picking up the box for her.

“Thank you, Stiles.” Margaret smiles at the Hales. “If you would excuse us.”

Stiles follows Margaret back to another set of boxes, where she has him set down the one he’s holding. On the way, she tells him about some of the new registrants, kids around his age that should be promising. She gives him descriptions of each of them and then sends him off to meet them, as Stiles does.

Each one of them doesn’t say his words, so the conversations are short and people come and go, and Stiles sits in the middle of the madness and watches as time marches on. Eventually, he finds himself wandering over and sitting down next to Derek, who glares at him when he approaches but looks away when he sits down.

“Hey. Having a good time yet?” Stiles asks. Derek doesn’t look at him. Stiles blows out a breath. “They kind of suck, for the most part. I mean, I know everyone says it’s magical when you meet your mate, but this whole waiting nonsense and the conventions and the stares, it’s all so… shitty. I imagine it’s probably better being born a supernatural creature, because it’s like expected of you guys to maybe potentially have a mate mark, but for us humans, we’re all weirdos or cursed or whatever, which I never got, but most aggression is built out of a place of envy. But people just can’t be happy for other people I suppose, which isn’t my fault, and yet people seem to think it is. You know I’m kind of surprised that this is your first year, considering. I guess I’m also surprised Laura met her mate through school. Does your mom have a thing against these conventions? What does your mate mark even say?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Derek barks and Stiles blinks in surprise.

“What?” Stiles says automatically, before his brain starts working again. “Oh my God, you are my mate!”

“Shut. Up.” Derek stands up and starts walking away but Stiles shoots up and runs after him.

“Wait! You can’t just walk away! This is supposed to be magical!”

Stiles reaches out and grabs Derek’s arm, stopping him. A bolt of electricity shoots up his arm. Stiles gasps and Derek wretches his arm back.

“You can’t be my mate, you’re human,” Derek sneers. Stiles raises his eyebrows.

“You’re prejudiced? You?! Your mom is the leading chairwoman of the Council of Supernatural and Human Affairs!”

Derek growls and storms away from Stiles, leaving him standing there lost and confused.

+++

When he leaves that night, he tells Margaret that there’s always next year with a laugh, too ashamed to tell her what actually happened. He repeats the same sentiment to his dad, who pats him on the back. He’d been talking to Talia, whose kids all stood behind her. Stiles glances at Derek, who is pointedly not looking at him, so Stiles looks away and starts toward the car.

Scott texts him and asks how it went and Stiles sends back a half-hearted:

stiles

great! met a lot of coool ppl this year

scotty boy

sick dude, i’m sure you’ll meet your mate soon ;P

Stiles doesn’t respond, unsure of what to say.

Yeah, already met him and it’s Derek Hale.

Yeah, already met him and have known him for the past couple years.

Yeah, already met him and he hates me.

All of it sounds pathetic and Stiles just doesn’t want to bother. He locks his phone and tosses it onto his bed, plopping down face first after it.

He falls asleep after a long night worrying that Derek will never like him.

+++

Stiles likes to help his community. It’s something his mom instilled in him at a young age and it’s something that he carries with him after her death. With his dad being such a public figure, and his mom being a local hero, Stiles feels like it’s his duty as their son to create something long-lasting and sustainable that helps a lot of people.

Stiles doesn’t really have anything big planned in order to meet that duty, but he does help in small ways. Most of it involves volunteer work and working community events. While he didn’t work the mating convention, he is working the upcoming town barbeque that takes place in the town square. It’s Beacon Hills’ birthday, right near the end of the school year, so the weather’s getting nice and spring-y and all they have to worry about is making sure it doesn’t rain.

But the day comes and the weather holds and it’s nice and sunny with a cool breeze. John is in charge of cooking with the rest of the Sheriff’s Department, whereas Talia has scheduled events and Chris takes care of the games. Allison and the Hale kids are also working the event, but not because they volunteered, as far as Stiles knows.

Stiles flits around the town square with a clipboard, working on inventory as everyone is getting started. His dad makes fun of him for having a clipboard, but Stiles just sticks his tongue out and moves onto the next person.

Allison jogs over to him as he’s at the coolers.

“I can’t believe he actually set up archery targets,” Allison exhales, gesturing to her dad across the square, rearranging several targets into a line. “Like that can’t possibly go wrong.”

Stiles laughs. 

“Yeah, I coulda told you he’d do that,” Stiles says, making a checkmark next to potato salad on his list. 

Allison laughs and rolls her eyes. 

“Well, at least there’s some eye candy,” she says, nudging Stiles and looking over at the gazebo.

Derek and his siblings are wrapping decorations around the railing and fence of the gazebo. Cora stands on the top of the fence and leans around the supports, hanging banners from the roof. Laura is untangling streamers and talking to a tall boy that has a telling smile on his face, so probably her mate. Derek is wrapping what looks like tinsel around the pickets of the fence, an ever present scowl on his face.

“Eye candy?” Stiles asks. Though he does have to admit, Derek’s arms look great in his T-shirt. Allison smiles.

“For you, obviously. What if he has your words?”

Stiles laughs nervously, moving past her to the next cooler. Missy from the Sheriff’s Department smiles at him as she shows him the condiments. Stiles makes another check.

“What?” Allison asks, turning an inquisitive eye on him. “Do you like him?”

“Allison,” Stiles chastises, smiling politely at Missy and moving on. Allison walks with him, a small smile on her face.

“Fine, I won’t tease you, but I think it’s cute. You two would be good together,” Allison tells him helpfully before flouncing off, dress moving in the breeze. She passes by the gazebo and says hi to the Hales. Laura and Cora greet her amicably, but Derek just scowls. Allison stops and leans against the column, a smile on her face as she says something to Derek. Stiles’ eyes nearly bulge out of his head and he runs after her.

“How was the mating convention?” Allison is asking when Stiles barrels into her side. She goes to fall but Stiles catches her and rights her. “Stiles!”

“Mating convention was great, so many interesting people, everyone had a good time, thank you Allison!” Stiles says all in one breath, the last part uttered through gritted teeth. Allison’s eyes widen, then narrow. She looks at Derek, who is still scowling, before looking at Stiles.

“Oh-kay… right. Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Allison says, suspicious. But she goes, heading back toward her dad. Stiles sighs and looks at Derek. He’s still scowling.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that, you know,” Stiles says childishly, before sticking his tongue out and heading back to the food. 

He feels Derek’s eyes on him the whole time.

+++

By the time the party starts, Stiles is too wrapped up in keeping everyone else happy that he barely notices his own issues. Scott shows up with Lydia and Jackson and flees to Stiles’ side, claiming sanctuary. Stiles gives Scott a ladle and has him take over scooping chili as he flits in between the meat cooking stations.

After mostly everyone is fed, Stiles’ dad tells him and Scott go have fun. They go to the archery station, which Allison is in charge of as she gives a group of kids instructions with rubber-tipped arrows. She makes doe eyes at her dad and he lets her go, taking over the station. They meet up with Lydia and Jackson and get a seat at one of the pop-up picnic tables that were set up today.

“So,” Lydia says, leaning across the table, cleavage on display. Stiles meets her eyes. “How was it?”

“It was good, yeah. Met a lot of great people, super interesting, tons of fun,” Stiles offers. Jackson rolls his eyes while Lydia narrows hers.

“You didn’t meet your mate at the convention?”

“No,” Stiles lies, which he guesses isn’t a lie since he already met his mate, just not at the convention. “No, we didn’t meet. But you know, there’s always next year and the… in between.”

Lydia hums, leaning back in her seat. Her eyes track something behind Stiles and Stiles tenses even before she says, “Hi, Derek.”

Stiles turns slowly and looks up. Derek has a plate of food and his face is neutral for once. He doesn’t look at Stiles. 

“Hi, Lydia,” Derek says, surprisingly. Not really surprising that he knows Lydia Martin because she’s really popular, but surprising that he’s deigning her with a response. Stiles looks back at her. She raises an eyebrow, also somewhat surprised.

“Heard you went to the mating convention,” she says. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No,” Derek tells her simply, before looking a couple tables over. Stiles follows his gaze to a girl from his school, Paige Krasikeva, a cellist the year above him. Derek stares at her for a moment before looking back at Lydia. “I’m still looking.”

As if that isn’t heartbreaking.

Stiles swallows harshly and turns to his chili, digging his sneaker into the dirt below him. Lydia makes a pleased noise after having also looked over at Paige.

“You two would be cute together,” Lydia coos. Derek mumbles a thanks before walking away. Allison presses gently into Stiles’ side.

Chapter Text

Derek’s not prejudiced, per se, despite what Stiles Stilinski wants to think. It’s just that everybody seems to think that fate is an important fact of daily lives and not just something hopeful people believe in. Because, yeah, Derek has a soul mark, but it doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t even want it and if there was some way to wish it away to someone that did, then he would. 

And of all things to get stuck with for a soul mark, Derek has: do you know about the history of circumcision?

Luckily, it’s on his hip, so it’s usually easily hidden, but he got teased for it all growing up, especially by Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. The three of them always have something to say about it. 

His mate mark also led to an early conversation about circumcision for each kid in his house, which was awkward for everyone.

Peter also finds it really funny. So that’s an extra negative.

So it’s really not Derek’s fault that he’s mad about it; anyone would be. Nor is it really the reason that Derek doesn’t want a mate. Not Stiles’ fault, but Paige’s.

Because Paige is… perfect. Derek’s never met a better person than her. Funny, whip-smart, talented. And she likes Derek. The only thing is that she knows he has a mate out there, but Derek is currently in the process of convincing her to overlook it. 

Because he will never meet anyone better than her and he knows firsthand that Stiles, who is his mate, is not better.

He remembers when Stiles said his words, ten minutes into their meeting. Derek was twelve, so Stiles must’ve been eleven or ten. Their parents had left them alone for seconds before Stiles asked, “Do you know about the history of circumcision?”

Derek had blinked, too stunned to respond, and Stiles went on, talking about how it first started and even discussing the different anatomical parts of the penis. By the time Derek had worked out how to respond, the Sheriff was back and Stiles was shutting up, being pulled along into the next room. 

And Derek hasn’t said a word since. Well, not until Stiles effectively drove the silence out of him, causing him to finally say the words on Stiles’ skin. He has to admit, he could’ve chosen better words, but it’s Stiles’ fault anyway. If he weren’t so annoying, Derek would’ve been nicer.

Now he’s left in a weird game with Stiles all while chasing after Paige. He knows what Stiles wants and he can’t give it to him. Not only is Derek currently trying to woo Paige, but he’s not even sure he’s into guys — granted, not that he’s ever really thought about it before — and he’s too far gone on Paige to even think about being with someone new.

He thinks Paige likes him, she just foolishly believes in this whole mate thing. Derek doesn’t know why, but he’s working on convincing her to go out with him at least once, and then they’ll see if she can deny what's going on between them.

It all started four summers ago, when her parents brought her over for dinner as they talked shop with Talia. Derek had taken her on a tour of the house and gotten to talk with her one on one, unable to help but notice the way she seemed into him. And she had been, until she saw his mate mark when he was stretching up to reach for a book on the top of a high shelf. She recoiled and said, “You’re mated?”

Derek had backtracked. “No, it’s not like that!”

“You have a mate.”

“I don’t like him,” Derek protested. Paige’s eyes softened.

“Derek, he’s your mate,” she said, a little desperately.

It had taken some time to calm her down, but afterwards, she kept her distance. Derek has been trying to repair their relationship since, and it’s steadily working, but all of this was Stiles’ fault and remains Stiles’ fault. If not for his mate mark, he and Paige would be together. And if not for Paige’s refusal to date him because of his stupid mate mark, he and Paige would also be together.

Derek fails to not hold a grudge.

As it stands, he and Paige are tentative friends. Derek wants them to be more, but Paige doesn’t. And Stiles wants to be mates, but Derek doesn’t. Which leads to the current problem, sitting across from him at the dining room table.

Another dinner with the Sheriff and Chris Argent, Stiles and Allison in tow. It’s not necessarily that Derek doesn’t like Stiles for the fact that he’s human alone, although he never thought his mate could be human. When he was a little boy, he’d always thought his mate would be a wolf just like him. He has had a somewhat tumultuous relationships with humans in the past — Kate Argent being one of the biggest reasons for his overall distrust and dislike of the species, and not to mention the humans that point and whisper about him openly when he walks through the center of town — but Paige has also changed his perspective on a lot of things, mainly on learning how to love one particular human — even if most of them seem to hate him just for existing — something Derek didn’t used to think was possible.

But sitting in front of Stiles Stilinski as he laughs with food in his mouth, not even bothering to cover it up as he bats at Allison’s hand, who has the decency to cover her mouth even though she’s not currently eating, Derek just can’t even see how fate could pair them together. He and Stiles are polar opposites in every way that counts; no way they could ever work out, even if Derek wanted them to.

Derek rolls his eyes and picks at his steak, handmade by the Sheriff, who Derek has to admit makes pretty good steaks. Judging by the helping of vegetables that Stiles deliberately put on the Sheriff’s plate when everyone was getting food, Derek can tell that Stiles is unhappy about the Sheriff having steak. Not that Derek cares whether or not Stiles is happy, but he looks at his own father’s empty seat at the table and wishes he were here to alleviate some of the tension that Derek’s currently feeling. Instead, he’s working in the shop as usual, too busy with cars to care much about politics, as he always says. Derek wishes he had that luxury.

He really wonders what fate was thinking, or whatever cosmic deity bullshit that paired them together. Why not Paige? What’s so special about Stiles anyway?

“So how did the convention go, Derek?” Chris Argent asks.

Derek hesitates. He’s known who his mate is for the past five years and up until recently, he’s kept it a secret. Of course, Stiles was the one to find out first, because while Paige knows he had a male, human mate, she doesn’t know it’s Stiles. And she never will, not if Derek can help it.

“Fine,” Derek decides after a moment, trying not to let the unease slip into his tone. He knows Kate wasn’t Chris’ fault, at least he does now, but he still can’t help but be wary around Hunters, especially Chris. Allison isn’t so bad; granted, she’s not as much of a Hunter as her father is, as he prefers to keep her mostly out of the family’s business, much to her dismay.

“Oh, more than fine,” Stiles chimes in and Derek glares at him, hands tensing on his utensils. “Derek actually was talking about this girl he met there. Weren’t you, Derek?”

Stiles smiles mischievously at him and Derek glares harder, feeling the knife bend under his grasp.

“You met someone?” Talia asks hopefully. Cora snickers and Laura grins.

“Yeah, but she actually was just trying to get me to introduce her to Stiles. Seems he’s more her speed. You know, sad and pathetic,” Derek bites out.

“Derek!” Talia admonishes and Stiles rises from the table, taking the bait.

“Yeah, well it’s no wonder why she didn’t want you! I mean, chasing a girl that’s already turned you down multiple times. What part of you do you think she doesn’t want? The broody cynic or the bitter asshole?”

Derek stands up from his chair so abruptly that it knocks over, a deep growl pulling out of his throat. Talia leaps up to get a hand on him, Laura grabbing him from the other side.

Stiles, for whatever it’s worth, doesn’t blink and doesn’t back down.

“Stiles!” The Sheriff chastises. 

Stiles doesn’t say a word, just marches out of the room. The Sheriff watches briefly before turning back to Talia. Allison hesitates for a moment before standing up and running out of the room after Stiles.

“What the hell was that?” Talia demands. Derek growls under his breath and pulls away from Laura and Talia, who let him go as he storms off in the other direction.

+++

Laura finds him in his room fifteen minutes later, lying down. She sits down on his bed.

“Hey, DerBear,” she greets, sitting for a moment before sprawling out on top of him with all her weight. Derek groans and tries to shake her off, but to no avail. Her face is right next to his and her breath smells like mashed potatoes. “So, what was that all about?”

“Nothing, Laura, just leave it,” Derek sighs.

“Nuh-uh,” Laura shakes her head and a lock of stray hair lands on Derek’s face. He groans and throws it back at her. “You and Stiles go years without talking and all of the sudden you two are screaming at each other across the dinner table? Something had to have happened. Maybe at the mating convention?”

“Laura,” Derek whines. Laura pushes herself up a bit, pushing on Derek.

“Is he your mate?”

“Lauraaaaa,” Derek whines louder, allowing himself to resort back into petulant little brother form that he usually only reserves for when Laura is pestering him too much. She gasps exaggeratedly, sitting up fully.

“Shut! Up! Oh my God! Wait, if he’s your mate, why are you guys mad at each other?” Laura demands.

“He’s not my mate. He’s just a stupid human,” Derek says into his pillows.

Laura yanks the pillow out from under Derek’s face. Derek bats at her.

“What do you mean?” she asks, what sounds like genuine confusion lacing through her tone.

“I mean,” Derek says, sitting up, “it doesn’t matter because I’m in love with Paige.”

“Paige? Paige Krasikeva?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Derek, it’s a crush.”

“It’s love.”

“Maybe,” she relents, “but it’s nothing compared to what you’ll feel for Stiles.”

Derek groans. “I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want him to be my mate.”

“Derek—” Laura starts before there’s a knock on the door. They both look over as it opens up.

“Derek?” Talia says. She spots the two of them and her face softens. “What happened?”

“Derek apparently told Stiles some stupid joke about not finding his mate. Stiles took it hard,” Laura lies smoothly, standing up from the bed. Derek’s grateful, not for the first time, that their rooms are soundproofed and that Laura's a good liar. She reaches over and scratches at his head roughly, a weak attempt at a noogie. Derek bats her hand away again, growling low in the back of his throat. “Just a case of dumb jock brain gone wrong.”

“Derek,” Talia sighs. Talia looks down at the floor and Laura shoots Derek a look that says you owe me before taking her leave from the room. Talia sits down next to Derek on the bed. “You have to behave. We’re building alliances.”

He casts his eyes downward. It’s one thing to get scolded by his mom, another by his alpha.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to arrange for the two of you to hang out together, get to know each other. You and Stiles have hardly ever spoken and I never knew why. I know you’re not close with Allison either, but it’s nothing like you and Stiles—”

“Do I have to?”

Talia rolls her eyes. “It won’t kill you. In fact, I think it’ll be good for you. It’s important to integrate and learn about cultures other than your own.”

Derek struggles not to roll his own eyes, but he nods. She knows very well how difficult he’s found the integration process after Kate. When he was a kid, he was all for the change. In the aftermath, he just wishes everyone would leave him alone.

“Fine. For you,” he clarifies. Talia smiles and pulls Derek into a side hug. He leans against her, never too old for a hug from his mother. She kisses the top of his head.

“Who knows, maybe you two will even become friends,” Talia muses.

Yeah.

Friends.

+++

When Derek gets to school, Erica latches onto him immediately.

“So how was the dinner?” she asks, sounding genuinely interested, but Derek knows her well enough to know that she has an ulterior motive.

“Why?” he asks carefully. She grins.

“Cora told me you and Stiles Stilinski got into it. She said he called you a “broody cynic” and a “bitter asshole.” Pretty big balls on that kid, saying that to a wolf.”

“He’s a nuisance,” Derek says. “He was just trying to push my buttons.”

“Why?” Erica stops in front of him and forces Derek to stop. 

“Because he’s a nuisance, didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes, but I know Stiles. He volunteers at the retirement home my grandma’s at. He’s annoying and a dick, but Cora said he completely blew up on you, which doesn’t sound like him at all. So, what’d you do to piss him off?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Derek protests. “The kid’s just sensitive.”

Erica narrows her eyes, but thankfully says nothing, moving out of Derek’s way, grabbing his arm, and dragging him down the hall toward the math wing.

+++

Paige agrees to meet up with Derek after school in the Preserve. They usually meet here, as Derek doesn’t want his family to be nosy, which they would be, and Paige…. Well, Derek assumes she doesn’t want her family to know they’re hanging out, but he’s not sure.

Their schools get out at roughly the same time, but they both have practice afterwards, so they don’t get together until after 5 and with dinner being shortly thereafter and both of their families big on eating dinner together as a family, they don’t often have a lot of time together. 

But Derek just wants to see how she’s doing. With everyone slowly starting to figure out his secret, it won’t be long before she does too, and Derek is debating whether he should be the one to tell her or not.

Because it seems Stiles knows about her, not that that’s surprising considering Derek himself thinks he’s obvious, knows he’s obvious, even. Derek previously wouldn’t say that Stiles is vindictive, but Derek knows Stiles is hurting right now after what he said at the mating convention, and if dinner was anything to go by, Derek doesn’t want Stiles to have concrete confirmation in case Stiles uses it maliciously in some way. He’s not confident Stiles would do that, but he can never be too careful.

He makes the decision to tell her as her car pulls up next to his in the small parking lot near the entrance of the Preserve. Derek gets out of his car and goes around to open her door before she can. She blushes at him, like she does every time, and climbs out smoothly.

“You said you wanted to see me?” She asks as he shuts her door. They lock their cars and head toward the woods. Paige is in a flowy white blouse and jean shorts, long dark hair a stark contrast against her shirt. She looks beautiful.

“I always want to see you.”

“Derek,” Paige chastises, a blush forming on her cheeks again. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to tell you about my mark, before someone else does,” Derek decides. Paige looks at him sharply.

“Oh?” She says, curious. “What about it?”

“Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

Derek sighs and gestures for them to sit down on a rock together.

“Stiles Stilinski is my mate,” Derek says and braces for impact.

Her expression hardly changes for a moment before she relaxes and makes a knowing face.

“That makes sense,” she says simply.

Derek is taken aback.

“What?”

“I mean, he’s the crazy to your calm. He’s all high energy and good values and you’re like the edgy bad boy,” Paige giggles. “I think you two seem to fit well together.”

Derek knows she and Stiles go to the same school, but she’s still surprised to hear her talk about him with such familiarity, especially since they’re different grade levels.

“You know Stiles?”

“Everyone does,” Paige dismisses. “I don’t know him intimately or anything, but I do know him. He’s a good person. Everyone says he’s a carbon copy of his mom and everyone loved his mom, at least from what I’ve heard.”

Paige only moved here in the fourth grade, which was shortly after Claudia Stilinski had passed away. Derek forgets that some people never met her.

She was a pillar of the community. Like Talia, no matter who you were, you knew Claudia Stilinski and she was your friend. She volunteered, organized all this important town stuff, and was on every committee with Talia. She helped build homes in the town, advocated for integrated mate bonds, and advocated for integration in general. She was a force to be reckoned with, a one of a kind spark, like catching lightning in a bottle.

But Derek doesn’t see Stiles like that.

Stiles is loud and obnoxious and annoying and gross at times and has no filter and never shuts up no matter how obvious people make it clear that they’re not interested. He fails to understand social cues, which especially being admittedly wickedly smart like he is, he should know better. Yeah, he volunteers and seems to care about all this town stuff and talks about integrated society with the same fervor that Claudia used to, but it doesn’t erase all his more annoying and less pleasing qualities.

“He’s nothing like his mom,” Derek says. “He’s annoying.”

Paige laughs and shakes her head.

“He’s your mate, you’re supposed to love him.”

“How could I love anyone but you?” Derek bites out. Paige sighs and Derek feels an awkward tension settle between them. He sighs, too.

“Derek…” She says slowly, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He stands up from the rock and faces her.

“I’m serious, Paige. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want to be with you!”

“Derek,” Paige scolds, standing up, “you know I care about you, but we can’t be together. Your mate bond is more important. You’re not being fair to him. Look, maybe you just need to spend some time with him, get to know him better. You have to try. Can’t you do that? For me?”

Derek knows that she’s manipulating him with good intentions and watches as she places a hand on his arm, so close and yet so far away. He bows his head, breaking eye contact with her and sighs. 

“I guess… I can try to get to know him,” Derek concedes. “But I don’t want to do anything past that.”

Paige purses her lips. “Just get to know him first. We’ll go from there.”

Derek sighs and she pats his arm gently.

+++

The first hang out is scheduled for a Friday after Derek’s basketball game. Stiles apparently plays lacrosse at his school, so he’s fresh out of his game as well. Talia sends Derek to go pick up Stiles after he’s done getting ready, of which he spends way too long deciding how to look the least attractive to ward off Stiles. He sits outside Stiles’ house and honks the horn once, glowering at the neighbor's parked car ahead of him. 

Stiles literally tumbles out of the house, long limbs unable to keep up with his torso and the forward momentum of his body. Derek watches as he nearly faceplants before righting himself, tugging on his hoodie and making for the Camaro. Derek rolls his eyes.

Stiles throws open the door and Derek grinds out, “Watch it!” as the door swings open violently and Stiles climbs inside. Stiles collapses on the seat and shuts the door behind him, looking at Derek.

“Hey,” he says, smiling crookedly with a hand hung in the air like he’s waving. Derek rolls his eyes and turns back to the road.

“We’re getting food, you’re shutting up, and then we’re going home,” Derek decides, pulling away from the street.

“Actually, no can do. I volunteer at the community center the last Friday of every month and I’m kind of expected there. Plus your mom already knows about it,” Stiles says. Derek’s grip tightens on the steering wheel and it creaks, but he says nothing, making a sharp turn toward the community center and throwing Stiles into his door as a response.

He tries not to smirk.

+++

The community center is full of families on a Friday night. Derek doesn’t know a lot of the people there, pretty much all of them human, but Stiles jogs up to a woman with a stack of papers and starts talking animatedly with his hands. She laughs and shoves the papers at him. Stiles turns back to Derek and gives him a thumbs up, heading into the office and expecting Derek to follow.

Derek does, reluctantly.

Stiles sits in an office chair, bent over into a filing cabinet as he files away paper. Derek takes a seat in a different chair pressed underneath the window that shows the main room. 

“Is this all you do?” Derek finds himself asking. “File paperwork?”

“Usually to start, yeah. They know I like filing. I do the same down at the Sheriff’s Office every couple of days. I like to stay busy.”

“Uh-huh.”

He’s a bit surprised by the sudden change in attitude from Stiles. A few days ago Derek was a “broody cynic” and a “bitter asshole,” and now Stiles is all smiles and waves like nothing ever happened. Derek wonders if he got over it already and realized that nothing's ever going to happen between them, and that all they are is playing nice for their parents’ sake.

“What do you do? In your spare time, I mean,” Stiles asks suddenly.

Derek sighs. He knows he promised Paige that he would try, so he says, “I go to school, I play basketball, I come home, and I hang out with my friends.”

“You don’t have any hobbies?”

“Well, sometimes I work on cars with my dad,” Derek says, a little reluctantly. It’s not like that’s a secret, it’s just that most people don’t know about that. It’s something special that Derek shares with his dad. His dad’s not usually around much anyway, busy at the shop most of the time and staying out of the way of politics, which Derek’s mom likes to bring home more often than not. “He’s a mechanic.”

“I know,” Stiles says, then smiles awkwardly to himself like he didn’t mean to say that. “I mean, that’s cool. That you guys can spend time together like that. My dad and I are always too busy to see each other. I really only see him at special events nowadays.”

Derek nods. He doesn’t know what to say to that, especially since Stiles obviously doesn’t know his relationship with his dad very well, so he doesn’t say anything. Stiles files the papers in his stack before closing the filing cabinet and saying, “Come on,” as he exits the office. 

Derek follows.

When he exits, he sees Stiles hugging a dark haired kid about his age who stands with Allison Argent. The three of them laugh as Stiles pulls back. Derek walks up behind Stiles.

“Derek Hale,” Allison greets. Her eyes dart to Stiles, who tenses. She looks back at Derek with a smile. “This is Scott McCall, my boyfriend.”

“And my best friend,” Stiles adds as Scott extends a hand. Derek looks at it before taking it, shaking it once. Scott crumples as Derek shakes his hand. Derek retracts quickly.

“Sorry!” he says quickly, scared he hurt Scott. But Scott just laughs.

“Dude, you got a strong grip!” Scott says, shaking out his hand. Derek watches in confusion as Scott seems pleased by this.

“Uh, thanks…”

“Right, well,” Stiles claps his hands together. “If you guys wanna help with the daycare center, that’d be great. I’ll be on snack duty and Derek, you can… find something to do.”

Allison and Scott head toward the daycare room for the younger kids while Stiles heads toward the snack table. Derek blows out a breath and takes a look around.

The main room is wide and open, split into two halves. The first half contains the office on the far left wall, whose window shows the courts in the back half of the room. There are snacks in the front half and seating, even TVs that show the news and a few kid’s programs. To the right of the building is the daycare center and in its spot in the back half are the locker rooms. Derek walks toward the courts on instinct.

He’s not sure he’s ever been in the community center before, having no real reason to be. But there’s a basketball court in the back half that nearly puts the one at school to shame. There’s a couple of kids playing ball. They’re not particularly good, but they seem happy, wearing court shoes and shorts that are too big for them.

Derek watches for a moment before walking onto the court.

“What’s your name?” he asks the boy with the ball. They all look under thirteen and they stare at him.

“You’re a werewolf,” one of them realizes. Derek resists flashing his eyes, choosing to nod instead.

“I’m Joey,” the one holding the ball says bravely, “but I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“I’m Derek. Now we’re not strangers,” Derek says, aware that it’s flawed logic. He gestures at the ball. “May I?”

Joey hands it over. Derek adjusts his grip on the ball to show him a shooting motion.

“If you hold the ball like this, you’ll get it in everytime,” Derek informs them. He passes the ball back to Joey. “Try it.”

Joey looks skeptical, but holds the ball as Derek showed him and lines up the shot. When he throws, it goes in. The other kids all gasp.

They crowd around Derek, begging him to teach them and Derek laughs and gets them set up in a line, demonstrating the shooting motion again and again for each kid.

Time passes quickly after that. The children are impressed primarily by Derek’s basketball skills, but also by the fact that he’s a werewolf. He demonstrates both abilities for them and answers questions they have, sitting on the floor with his back to the front room as he flashes his eyes, well acquainted with all the kids enough now to know that he’s not going to scare them.

“Why are they yellow?” A kid named Michael asks.

“Because I’m a beta. If I was an alpha, they’d be red.”

“What’s an alpha?” Casey asks.

“Like a leader of a pack. A pack is kind of like a family. So, the pack leader is kind of like your mom or dad, in a sense.”

“Is your alpha your dad?” Chloe asks.

“My alpha is actually my mom, Talia Hale. But some people’s alphas aren’t their biological mom or dad. I just got lucky.”

“So, does she use her red eyes to tell you to do chores?” Joey asks.

Derek laughs. 

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“What are you doing?”

Derek turns around and sees Stiles standing there, a mixture of confusion and awe on his face. Derek flushes and stands.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. The kids rat him out.

“Derek was telling us about what it’s like to be a werewolf!” Michael declares.

“And he helped us play basketball!” Chloe chimes in.

Derek winces.

“Oh really?” Stiles says, laughing a little and covering his mouth with his hand. “Is that so?”

He looks at Derek and Derek looks away, his cheeks heating up.

“Come play with us, Stiles!” Casey demands. Stiles shakes his head, attention turning back to the children.

“Unfortunately, it’s time to close. All your parents are waiting, okay? Time to go.”

The kids all say “awwww!” at the same time, going to put their ball away in the ball lock up and heading back to the front room. They tell Derek bye and Stiles watches with a smile on his face as Derek tells them bye back. Stiles herds the kids out of the room, throwing a look over his shoulder at Derek.

Derek follows him into the front room. Each of the kids run up to their respective parents and hug them, talking excitedly over each other. Stiles chats with each of the parents quickly on their way out. The girl from before who works at the center comes up to Stiles and takes over, asking him to lock up the back room. Derek looks through the glass doors to the right but the daycare is locked up and empty too. Allison and Scott must’ve gone. He doesn’t even know how much time has passed. He glances at his watch and notices it is 9 now and his stomach is rumbling.

“Let me lock up and then we’ll get dinner. My treat,” Stiles offers as if he can read Derek’s mind. Or maybe he could just hear his stomach growl. Stiles heads back to the courts. Derek follows.

He goes with Stiles as he locks everything up, the back doors and the ball bin, and as he clears the locker room. He shuts partitions that separate the room and locks them up before tossing the keys to the girl from before. 

“You’re all good. Let me know if you need anything,” Stiles tells her.

“Thanks for your help, Stiles, as always,” the girl says with a shy smile. Derek raises an eyebrow as he watches Stiles get flustered.

“Yeah, um, of course. Anytime, Caitlyn.” 

Stiles bumps into Derek in an effort to get out of the building, using the front door, which hasn’t been locked yet. Stiles exhales deeply when they get outside into the cool air.

“Do you know her?” Derek asks.

“Who, Caitlyn?” Stiles laughs awkwardly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, we go to school together and she’s kinda cool, but she’s just a flirt, that’s all.”

“You should get her number,” Derek tells him earnestly. “She’s really into you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says quietly. “Maybe.”

Derek is relaxed this time Stiles gets into his car. After the last few hours, Derek doesn’t as much mind the notion of being neutral with him, but still the idea of them being mates is completely off the table. 

Derek takes them to a drive-thru place and makes a point of them eating outside of the Camaro on a bench by the building.

“Do this on all your dates?” Stiles jokes, though it falls flat.

“I don’t go on dates,” Derek snarks after a moment, choosing not to bite out that this is not a date.

“Oh?” Stiles asks, seeming genuinely surprised. “Not even you and Paige?”

Derek tenses. “How do you know about her?”

Stiles clears his throat and then swallows roughly. “Well, it’s kinda obvious. I-I mean, just the way you look at her. I noticed it first at the town barbecue. I asked Lydia Martin about it and she told me that you two had a thing for each other.”

“I have a thing for her,” Derek admits carefully, still tentative to offer that information to Stiles. “I think she has a thing for me, but she refuses.”

“Why?”

“She believes in mate bonds. Thinks they’re important.”

“Oh.” Stiles’ voice sounds sad and Derek clears his throat.

“Hurry up and eat your food,” Derek says sternly, willing the conversation to be over. He feels awkward and doesn’t want to ruin the surprisingly okay mood that he’s in. Stiles, thankfully, doesn’t say anything else, finishing his food in silence.

Derek takes him home and Stiles hesitates in the seat for a moment.

“I had a fine time tonight,” Stiles says.

“Yeah. Me too, I guess.”

Stiles nods to himself, holding out his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just waiting for Derek to take his hand. Derek does after a moment of hesitation.

They shake hands and Derek feels electricity shoot up his fingers, down his arm, and down his spine. He pulls away quickly.

Stiles hesitates again before opening the door.

“Stiles?” Derek suddenly asks.

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t… told anybody, right?”

“That we’re mates?”

Derek winces. “Yeah.”

Stiles clenches his jaw and his face closes off.

“No, I haven’t told anybody. But Allison guessed, so I guess if you’re worried about it getting out then you’ll have to talk to her. Goodbye, Derek.”

Stiles climbs out and shuts the door, a little too hard. Derek can only watch him storm off into his house, unable to do or say anything other than to just drive away after the porch lights have shut off.

+++

When Derek gets home, his mom stops him in the foyer and asks, “How was it?”

“It was fine,” Derek tells her and means it. “He’s okay.”

Talia smiles. “That’s wonderful, honey. It’s so important to make new friends. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Derek says glumly and heads upstairs. When he gets to his room, it’s only a couple of seconds later when Laura sticks her head in.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine.”

“De-rek,” Laura complains.

“It was fine,” Derek says, exasperatedly. “He’s okay, for a human.”

“And you didn’t fall madly in love?”

“No.”

Laura blows out a breath.

“Well, shit, Derek, I don’t know what to tell you. Ooh! Maybe if you kiss him!”

“I’m not going to kiss him,” Derek laughs.

“Why not? He’s your mate—”

“Stop, please,” Derek begs. “Stop holding that against me. Neither of us asked for this, we were just stuck together.”

Laura’s face sours but she doesn’t say anything. After a moment, she just sighs and walks out of the room.

Derek closes his door and starts unwinding for bed.

Chapter Text

Stiles doesn’t want to get up, but it’s a Saturday, which unfortunately is his busiest day of the week, and he has a million things to do and people to meet and talk to and he doesn’t want to do any of it. He just wants to lay in bed and feel miserable about the fact that Derek doesn’t like him and probably never will.

Last night was simultaneously great and awful all at once. Stiles really enjoyed spending time with Derek and seeing how he handled all the kids. It made his heart warm and he got a distinct feeling, the kind he’s always felt around Derek, a warm sort of feeling. He guesses that his body always knew who his mate was far before words were said. Even though Stiles doesn’t remember them. He wonders what Derek’s mark even says.

But all the good feelings he had with Derek came crashing down as Derek basically pushed him into the arms of Caitlyn and begged Stiles not to tell anyone that they’re mates. Not that Stiles has, but Allison did find out. Stiles trusts her not to say anything, but after the explosive dinner a couple nights ago and her following him after he stormed off, it took her about a full minute to ask, “Wait, is he your mate?” and for Stiles to groan and for her to gasp and for Stiles to swear her to secrecy.

Which she’s upheld this whole time and probably forever will. But Stiles kind of likes Derek worrying about the knowledge of them getting out, because it at least makes Derek think of him and he kind of deserves the unease for being a consistent dick.

Allison had convinced him to give it a shot after their talk, and he wanted to say that he did. She’d told him that Derek obviously was being an asshole, but that Stiles just needs to keep pushing and needling, because it’s what he’s best at. Stiles doesn’t think he’s the one who needs to reach out, but he wants to try for the sake of his mate bond. But Derek just makes it so easy for Stiles to dislike him and like him all at the same time, and that’s confusing enough in and of itself.

Stiles sighs when he hears his alarm go off again and rolls out of bed, finally accepting that it’s time to start the day. At least the one positive of Saturdays is that he gets to see Margaret.

“Stiles!” His dad calls.

“I know!” Stiles shuts off his alarm so his dad doesn’t keep telling him it’s going off, like he doesn’t hear it and is willingly ignoring it.

He gets up and struggles to get ready, nearly falling down the stairs after missing the last step. John looks up from his coffee and sighs, turning back to his plate of eggs, toast, and bacon — turkey bacon, that is; Stiles still very much won’t let him have real bacon after that last scare when his cholesterol had been higher than usual and the numbers were starting to freak Stiles out.

“You seeing Mrs. Klein today?” John asks, pushing a similar and full plate of breakfast across the table toward Stiles. Stiles takes it gratefully and sits down, shoveling food into his mouth as they talk.

“Yeah, I’m just helping her clean today.”

“Maybe you should take Derek with you.”

Stiles glances up at him, panicked. “What? Why Derek?”

“Well, you two should spend a little more time together, get to know one another, don’t you think?”

“Why?” Stiles asks, suddenly very paranoid.

John blinks at him. “Well, after dinner the other day—”

“Oh right,” Stiles says nervously. His dad stares at him. “Right, totally. I agree. Yeah, sounds great. You know, I’m actually not feeling that hungry anymore, I think I’m just gonna go ahead and get started on my day, you know, lots to see and do, amiright?”

Stiles grabs his keys, laughs awkwardly, and hurries out the door.

The problem is that he’s not really the best at keeping a secret. One time Scott told him that he had a not-so-safe-for-work dream about their English teacher in eighth grade and Stiles blabbed that to Lydia, who told Jackson, who made Scott’s life hell. Thus no one tells Stiles anything anymore. Derek, obviously, hasn’t gotten the memo.

And he is, for whatever reason, trying to uphold his ham-fisted promise, one he made reluctantly at that, but he can’t be expected to keep a secret of this size, especially not when everyone’s asking him questions about it or pertaining to it or shoving them together.

Stiles shakes his head free of the thoughts as he gets to Margaret’s house and uses the key she gave him to enter.

“Honey, I’m home,” Stiles calls out. He can hear her moving around in the kitchen. He ducks in through the archway and finds her sorting through her medication. She glances back at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done,” she tells him. 

Stiles gets kind of nervous around the medication. It reminds him a bit too much of his mom and her slew of medication she had to take, which got increasingly worse nearing the very end. He’s not dumb, he knows that Margaret is older and that it’s a miracle she’s as healthy as she is. It doesn’t mean it isn’t hard to see her take her medication or need a hand to walk down stairs. Stiles has never had any relatives live close, but Margaret feels like a grandmother of sorts, a kind of maternal figure in his life that he’s been missing. Maybe Stiles only hangs out with her because he feels a sort of connection with her that he longs for familially, but, regardless, Stiles just enjoys the time he spends with her and that’s all there is to it.

Stiles turns back around and heads to the living room. She keeps her house pretty tidy, not really liking to take help from anyone. Stiles always tells people that he’s going to help her clean, but she’s a bit too independent to actually accept his help most of the time. In reality, he usually just comes over to chat and read, two of his favorite hobbies, not that he has much time for the latter anymore.

Margaret comes in a moment later. She gives him a onceover.

“You look like you have a secret,” she says, smiling a little as she sits in her chair. He curses her keen and practiced observation skills, the way she always seems to know when he’s hiding something. He’s sure it doesn’t take someone keen though to notice that he’s fidgeting more than normal, leg bouncing of its own volition, biting the skin around his thumbnail.

“I have no secrets. I’m an open book,” Stiles says carefully, pulling his hand away from his mouth slowly. It’s mostly true, though not out of his own want. He’s an open book because he’s bad at keeping secrets, not because he chooses to be an open book. Margaret, at this point, knows this about Stiles and levels him with a look.

“We both know that’s not true,” she says with a laugh. “What’s the secret you’re holding?”

Stiles laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I’m not holding a secret,” he denies, foolishly.

Margaret’s look intensifies and Stiles caves.

“OkayfineIfoundoutDerekHaleismymate,” he sighs, all in one breath. 

Margaret blinks and then points at him and says, “I knew it!”

He flounders. “What?”

“I knew it, just by the way you two were making eyes at each other at the mating convention,” Margaret says haughtily. “When did you get together?”

“Making eyes at each other? What, no, we’re not together,” Stiles quickly backtracks. “Please, don’t tell anyone that.”

He definitely wouldn’t call what happened at the mating convention “making eyes at each other.” If by that she means glaring at each other and learning that Derek hates Stiles because he’s human and Stiles hates Derek (kind of, and he knows he probably should, but it’s complicated) because Derek hates Stiles because he’s human, then yes, they were making eyes at each other. But no eyes have been made otherwise.

“Oh? Mates and you aren’t even together? That’s new.”

“He doesn’t… he doesn’t want to be mates,” Stiles confesses, the late morning light streaming in through the windows, casting the room with a pale yellowish-gray glow. She doesn’t make a noise, doesn’t make a sound, just lowers her head.

When she speaks, her tone is somber. “He said that?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t mean it,” she tries to reason, looking back up at him.

Stiles sighs. “I think he did.”

Margaret shakes her head. “Of course he didn’t. He’s only a teenage boy, he doesn’t actually know what he wants.”

Stiles sighs and opens his mouth to respond and potentially argue that he’s only a teenage boy and knows what he wants, when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Stiles says abruptly, standing up and heading down the short hallway for the front door.

“You’re running!” Margaret calls to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says as he pulls the door open. 

Derek stands on the other side, ears red as he stands there with a fist raised. Stiles inhales sharply and throws a look over his shoulder before leaning out of the door.

“Derek?”

“Hi,” Derek says.

“Uh, what are you doing here?”

“Your dad told me you wanted me here…” Derek says, checking his phone. “Is that right?”

“Oh, right,” Stiles says slowly. He forgot he told his dad that. “Um, okay, yeah, come on in.”

Stiles opens the door for Derek, who enters hesitantly. 

“Who is it?” Margaret calls from the back room.

“Derek Hale,” Derek answers before Stiles can. Margaret says nothing in response, but Stiles knows what she’s thinking. Stiles shuts the door behind Derek and they venture into the back room where Margaret sits.

There’s no way Derek didn’t just hear what they were talking about. It only makes the tension in the room more awkward.

Stiles takes his usual seat on the couch and Derek only hesitates for a moment before taking a seat next to Stiles, which is really the only available spot in the room at the moment. Margaret watches him carefully.

“Derek Hale,” Margaret says as Derek gets comfortable. “Son of Talia Hale, savior of the Beacon Hills’ supernatural athletic department.”

“I wouldn’t say all that,” Derek mumbles. Margaret hums, pleased.

“Humble,” she tells Stiles. He flushes.

“We were just talking about—” Stiles starts, wanting to find some sort of excuse or segue to steer the conversation in the opposite direction, before Margaret interrupts him.

“Mates,” she finishes with a smile. Derek spares a glance at Stiles, who shakes his head vehemently.

“No,” Stiles protests. “I mean, yes, we were talking about, um, mates and how the mating convention was. Lots of people this year, not that many matches.” Stiles laughs awkwardly. “Didn’t you notice?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Derek offers. 

“He wasn’t paying attention,” Stiles reiterates for Margaret, like she can’t hear. She rolls her eyes.

“The mating convention is a joke,” she tells them confidently. “Real mates meet out in the real world, when they’re ready to. My mate and I met randomly at the grocery store.”

“Yes, please, tell Derek about Georgia,” Stiles says, leaning back into his seat. Derek, thankfully, turns toward Margaret, looking surprisingly intrigued.

“Georgia was my mate,” Margaret starts. “At the time of our meeting, it was still quite taboo for a human and a werewolf to be together, much less two women. Nowadays, you don’t have the same problems, at least not as much for same sex couples, and this was all before the laws that your mother helped amend, Stiles, about preserving mate bonds between humans and werewolves, so it was quite a fight to stay together back in those early days. But Georgia, from the first moment I saw her, I knew she was the one for me. Even before she said my words, I felt a deep longing for her, like I had known her for years, like she had been mine forever. And after she had said my words, I knew the feeling I felt for her was our mate bond working, because it became stronger and more intense as my feelings grew. Every moment I spent with her was an eternity and a blink-of-an-eye all at once. Losing her was the most incurable heartbreak I’ll ever know.”

“Fated love,” Stiles muses, trying not to swoon. He’s heard the story a million times and it still makes him long for a semblance of what Margaret and Georgia had. “Truly beautiful.”

Derek says nothing, not that Stiles expects him to. As a matter of fact, this is the conversation Stiles most expects Derek to be quiet for, and he lives up to that expectation. Margaret stares at Derek, as if trying to goad him into saying something, but he just stares at the rug.

“Well,” Stiles says, clearing his throat and breaking the swiftly awkward tension, “do you want tea?”

He stands up and makes for the kitchen, already knowing Margaret’s answer.

“Of course,” she says predictably.

“Derek?” Stiles asks, putting the kettle on.

“Uh, sure.” There’s movement and Derek appears beside him a moment later. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had tea like this.”

Stiles, a little startled by the sudden proximity, tries and fails not to clear his throat and make it seem less awkward, pulling out the kettle from the cabinets, turning on the stove and filling the kettle with water. He sets the full kettle back on the stove, waiting for it to heat up.

“How have you had tea?” he asks, deciding to indulge in the conversation.

“From a bottle?”

Stiles tsks. 

“Well, first time for everything,” he says, getting out the tea bags.

“She’s human,” Derek says quietly and unprompted. “But mated to a wolf.”

“It’s not quite as rare as you think,” Stiles says, feeling awkward. It is rare, but in Beacon Hills, anything is possible.

“I guess,” Derek says, obviously not agreeing. “It’s just that I’ve barely heard about it.”

“Well, we know firsthand it’s a thing, right?” Stiles says sharply, before sighing. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Derek says a little awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry too.”

Stiles isn’t sure what he’s apologizing for and he doesn’t elaborate and Stiles doesn’t dare ask, so he continues to make the tea in silence and for whatever reason, Derek stays with him the whole time, taking Margaret’s and his own mugs from him when Stiles is finished. Stiles follows him with his personal mug that he leaves at Margaret’s for their obligatory tea time. 

He watches Derek set the mug in front of Margaret before returning to his spot on the couch.

“Thank you,” she tells him, waggling her eyebrows at Stiles when Derek isn’t looking. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“So, Derek,” Margaret says as everyone reclaims their seats, “tell me about yourself. I know so much about your mother, but nothing about you.”

“Not much to tell,” Derek tells her earnestly. “I go to school, play basketball, and hang out with my friends.”

“And work on cars,” Stiles adds, sparing a look at Derek, who looks at him in return, a strange expression on his face that Stiles doesn’t know how to decipher.

“And work on cars,” Derek agrees after a moment.

“A full workload,” Margaret muses. “Do you also help your mother?”

“Sure, but not as often as I should,” Derek admits, looking sheepish. “Laura’s better at all the politics than I am. She’s my mom’s second, anyway, so she’ll take over when my mom steps down, probably both as an alpha and a public figure. She has a head for that kind of stuff. Cora’s supposed to take over for my uncle Peter, who’s the pack trainer. They… they don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Stiles and Margaret both blink, surprised by the amount of words Derek has just spoken, easily the longest that both of them have ever heard from him. Stiles makes a mental note of it: if Derek feels uncomfortable, he’ll info dump about his family. Duly noted.

“I’m sure they’ll find something for you,” Margaret tells him. “Everyone is good at something.”

“Yeah,” Derek says quietly, looking into his tea. He takes a sip and makes a soft humming noise, looking over at Stiles. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s important to try different things,” Margaret says helpfully, sipping her tea, the picture of innocence. Stiles’ ears heat up and he shakes his head, taking his own sip to avoid calling her an interfering old woman.

“Right,” Derek says, glancing again at Stiles before taking another sip of his tea.

After they drink their tea, Stiles does help tidy a little. There’s little that Margaret can’t do by herself, but the list expands when talking about how easy the task is to perform. She claims to be independent, but Stiles watches helplessly as she grows more frail each day, to the point where it’s just easier for Stiles to figuratively shove her out of the way and do it himself. Even things that give her joy, like watering her plants or cleaning off her bookshelf and piano, have become too much for her to do alone, so he helps where he can, even if it's just supporting the watering can or being the one on the ladder cleaning the higher shelves.

Stiles, a while ago, bought her a couple types of plants that are harder to kill and require less watering than other plants. Philodendrons, snake plants, and spider plants line her shelves and the available space in her living room and on the windowsills downstairs. Small succulents and lilies decorate the front entry. With her plants and decor, bookshelves lining walls, a small black and worn piano in the corner of the room, the house looks like something from a book, quaint and cozy. Stiles enjoys the time he spends with her here, in this house that feels like home. 

Margaret holds the handle of the watering can while Stiles supports the bottom, chattering on about school and the community center and his dad’s poor eating habits. Derek stands in the archway between the front entry and the living room, watching and listening. He doesn’t add to the conversation, but he stays put, which Stiles calls progress.

After they clean her bookshelves, Margaret tells Derek to hold the ladder Stiles is standing on and he does, watching as Stiles dusts and pulls books down at random to ask Margaret about them. Margaret’s traveled around the world, though she always returns right back home to Beacon Hills, so she has various books in different languages from different places. Stiles pulls one out and examines it.

“Ci-en… sonatos... son—” Stiles tries to read. Derek takes the book from his hand.

“Cien Sonetos de Amor por Pablo Neruda,” Derek reads off. He looks back up at Stiles, who is stunned and it probably shows on his face, judging by the increasingly self-conscious expression that Derek wears. He didn’t even know Derek could look like that. “What?”

“You know Spanish?” Stiles asks.

“I like languages,” Derek says with a blush on his cheeks, handing the book back. 

“What do you know?” Margaret asks from the other side of Stiles.

“Um, English, obviously, and just some Spanish, Italian, and French because they're so similar, a little bit of German, and I’m learning Russian. But not that much.”

Stiles blinks. Margaret laughs.

“Well, there’s your talent, little wolf,” she says and Derek’s face turns red.

“It’s more of a hobby. And I read better than I can speak, anyway, so I’m not sure how useful that is.”

“It’s cool,” Stiles blurts out. Derek looks up at him. “I mean, I only know English and a little bit of Polish and, I mean, I’m technically in Spanish class but all I can say are my numbers and ask if I can go to the bathroom.”

Derek laughs a little and Stiles swears to God he feels his knees go weak. He holds onto the bookshelf tightly, knuckles turning white. It’s unfair the grip that Derek has on him, and so unintentionally, too.

“You speak Polish?” Derek asks.

“Both sets of grandparents were born in Poland and still live there. Everything I learned was from my mom because my dad moved to America when he was a baby and doesn’t remember any Polish. I’m actually named after my maternal grandfather, but my nickname comes from my last name, like my paternal grandfather.”

“You mean your real name isn’t Stiles Stilinski?” Derek says and it sounds like he’s teasing, but a playful, jovial kind of teasing. Stiles likes the sound. “What is it then?”

“Ah-ha!” Stiles laughs. “That’s a secret that me, Scott, and my family will die with. And every poor teacher that’s tried to pronounce it. And Margaret, of course, but that’s because she’s a cheater.”

“It’s on all official forms,” she says with a smile. “It’s my job to read those forms. And I take pride in being one of the only people that can actually pronounce it.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Derek asks. Stiles laughs.

“Oh, it is. Especially when you’re a kid and learning how to talk for the first time. It’s easier for me since I’m familiar with it and I kind of can speak Polish, but finding someone that’s familiar with the pronunciations of the Polish language here in Beacon Hills is kinda difficult.”

“Well, if I learn Polish, then will you tell me?” Derek asks, leaning against the ladder. Stiles laughs, feeling awkward, hopeful, and confused all in one fell swoop. He has to grip the bookshelf tighter as he leans back, his stomach rolling over itself at the seemingly playfulness that fills Derek’s tone.

“If you learn Polish, then I will tell you,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “But I promise you won’t be able to pronounce it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Derek says with a smirk. “I like a challenge.”

Stiles laughs breathlessly and turns back to the shelves, continuing to clean them. He wonders if Derek can hear his rabbiting heart.

+++

When they leave, Derek follows him out the door, accepting a hug from Margaret after she pulls away from Stiles.

“It’s nice to get to know you, Derek,” Margaret tells him. “You’re a good kid.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to get to know you too.”

They say their goodbyes and walk to their cars, both parked on the street outside of her house. They stop in the distance in between their cars, idling just in front of the mailbox.

“Did my dad really call you to come over?” Stiles asks, already knowing the answer. Derek shrugs.

“He called my mom and my mom told me to come, so I came. But I’m glad I did. It was… nice.”

Nice. It was nice. Stiles tries not to read into that too much; he feels like his head is spinning.

“She’s a very social person. I’m sure she appreciated the company,” Stiles says.

Derek nods. “What are you going to do now?”

Stiles shrugs. “Well, I’m supposed to go volunteer at around 12:30 and then go back to close the community center again tonight around 4. But I have a couple hours between then and now that I gotta find something to do with.”

“Well, it’s nearly lunchtime,” Derek says. “We could get an early lunch.”

“Together?” Stiles asks incredulously, eyebrows climbing into his hairline, before laughing. “I mean, yeah, obviously together or else you wouldn’t’ve said “we.””

“Or if you don’t want to—”

“No, I want to!” Stiles says, a little too eagerly. Derek just stares at him. Stiles clears his throat, lowering his voice an octave. “I mean, that’d be great. I’m starving. Lead the way.”

Derek takes them in the Camaro to get food. Stiles likes the Camaro, but he’s scared to touch anything in it. Clearly, Derek cares for the car very much and Stiles would hate to be on the receiving end of Derek’s wrath — again. Stiles does, however, wonder about the car, whether it’s Derek’s favorite car. He figures if Derek spends time working on cars with his dad, then he’s got to have a cool favorite car — that’s how it usually works for car guys.

“Do you have a favorite car?” Stiles asks.

“Huh?” 

Derek seems surprised by the question, glancing over at Stiles. The inner workings of Stiles’ brain and his ability to ask the most seemingly nonsensical and off-topic questions typically does that to newcomers. The rest of his family and friends are used to it by now.

“Like, a favorite type of car. Is the Camaro your favorite?”

“Oh,” Derek says, relaxing a bit in his seat, “well, yeah, but not this model. 1967 Camaro Z28, that’s my favorite.”

“You’d have to show me a picture. I don’t know anything about cars.”

“But you drive an old car.”

“It was my mom’s,” Stiles explains. “I don’t know how the thing still runs, but when I was able to drive, my dad handed me the keys and it’s been with me ever since. Even when I was little I used to pretend I was driving the Jeep all the time, back when my mom was driving it. She used to laugh and tell me one day it’d be mine. My dad held up that promise.”

Derek nods, but doesn’t say anything for a long moment, long enough for them to arrive at a nearby sandwich shop. As they get out of the car, Derek says, “This car was Laura’s, but I begged her to give it to me. I had to do her laundry for a year before she agreed.”

Stiles laughs. “It must be nice having siblings. I mean, good and bad. I always wanted some growing up. Now I just have Scott, who’s basically my brother. I mean, our parents are dating, too.”

“I’m sure it’s great to have siblings that aren’t my siblings,” Derek grumbles.

“You don’t like your sisters?”

“Of course I do. They just know exactly how to piss me off and they do it often and with pleasure,” Derek clarifies. He shakes his head. “Sisters especially know exactly how to get under your skin. Be grateful you don’t have any.”

Stiles laughs. “Allison is the closest I have to a sister and she’s pretty tame.”

“Laura and Cora are feral,” Derek grumbles. Stiles laughs louder.

They get sandwiches and much like yesterday, Derek doesn’t let them eat in the car, so they sit inside the shop this time. It’s fairly slow for a Saturday, and Derek focuses more on his sandwich than he does initiating or maintaining a conversation. 

But Stiles’ brain keeps whirring.

“When did you learn that you liked languages?” Stiles asks. Derek looks at him, this time a little less taken aback than the previous time, before swallowing carefully, thinking the answer over.

“I don’t know. I was kind of quiet as a kid—”

“Just as a kid?” Stiles asks.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Well, I guess now as well. But I read a lot and we have a big library in my house and I used to read all the books there. Eventually I ran out of stuff in English, so I tried Spanish and once I read all of those, I kept going. It’s why I’m better at reading it than speaking it.”

“I’m not even sure if I know how to read Polish,” Stiles confesses with a laugh. “Probably a couple words here and there, but most of my knowledge is verbal, y’know? Guess we’re two sides of the same coin.”

“Yeah,” Derek says and then smiles lightly, if not politely. Stiles feels something in him fizzle out and resists the urge to clear his throat, instead returning to his food. 

They eat the rest of the meal in silence before returning to the car. Derek takes Stiles back to Margaret’s house where his car is and Stiles stops for a brief moment with his hand on the door handle, turning to look at Derek.

“Well, thanks for taking me to lunch, but I gotta go,” Stiles says, pulling on the door handle.

“Do you always volunteer like this?” Derek asks unexpectedly.

Stiles shrugs. “Some weeks are busier than others, but like I said, I try to stay busy.”

“Why?”

Stiles blinks. No one’s ever asked him that.

“Well, my mom used to say that “even the smallest one can change the world.” It turned out to be a Peter Rabbit quote that was later quoted more or less in Lord of the Rings, but it’s still pretty applicable! And it really made me think a lot that, after she died, maybe I could have some impact like she did. I mean, everything she did was for other people. The least I could do was follow in her footsteps.”

Stiles looks up at Derek, who’s just looking at him like Stiles is some kind of enigma that Derek is trying to figure out. Stiles clears his throat.

“Right, well, I really do need to get going,” Stiles says, pushing the car door open.

“Right,” Derek says. 

“Bye.”

“Bye,” Derek echoes.

Stiles climbs out and shuts the door, hesitating a moment before shaking his head and returning to his car.

+++

Stiles has been volunteering at the assisted living facility for a few years now. Volunteering is a lot easier ever since he started driving, not having to rely on his dad or Melissa to drive him. He’s been a lot more available and a lot busier since then, also not having to rely on anybody else’s schedule in order to make his own. So nowadays he comes usually every Saturday and volunteers for a couple hours. 

Usually, there are people visiting along with the other volunteers and the team of staff. Stiles knows a couple of the people visiting, mostly people he’s seen around town but doesn’t really know personally. One such person who always has a visitor is Mrs. Reyes, who likes to be called Martina by her friends, who she now considers Stiles to be a part of, much to his pleasure. Her granddaughter’s there almost every Saturday that Stiles is.

Her name is Erica and she’s a werewolf, bitten not born, so Stiles remembers her from their primary years before she transferred to the supernatural school. Same with her boyfriend Boyd that she talks about. Vernon Boyd III, or something like that, who Stiles also vaguely remembers from elementary school and was bitten around the same time as Erica. Stiles doesn’t know the details or circumstances, something having to do with Erica’s epilepsy or something, but he knows that neither she nor Boyd attend Beacon Hills High School as a result and instead attend Beacon Hills Supernatural High School (which always gets made fun of for its lack of a creative name).

Martina, like her granddaughter, is very sassy and strong-headed. Stiles is in charge of feeding everyone when he visits and Martina always gives him the most amount of sass. Erica sits and watches them fight over her lunch, laughing to herself before eventually giving in and helping Stiles. Martina, for whatever reason, thankfully listens to Erica, but Erica insists on watching Stiles struggle first. From what Stiles knows as well, Erica and Boyd are friends of Derek. He’s only heard about them being friends, never seen them together, but they kind of seem like the type of people to be friends. Kinda mean, scary, and hot; it makes sense why they would be friends.

Today, when Stiles goes to hand Martina her food, she turns her nose up at him. Erica looks up from where she’s sharpening her nails.

“I told you, Stiles, I don’t do oatmeal,” Martina says, waving a hand like it’ll make the food disappear. 

“Martina, we have this fight every Saturday and every Saturday my answer’s the same: if you don’t like it, don’t eat it. I’m not gonna force it down your throat.”

Erica snorts and Martina glares. Erica puts a hand on her grandma’s arm.

“Eat, Nana,” Erica commands, taking the tray from Stiles and setting it down on the table in front of her. Martina makes an exaggerated grossed out face, but takes the fork and begins picking at the vegetables.

“Thanks,” Stiles says to Erica, turning on his heel. A hand snakes around his wrist and holds him in place. He turns back around. “Yes?”

Erica gestures to the seat in front of her. “Take a break, Stilinski. Sit with us.”

“I’m really busy,” Stiles says, but knows better than to try to pull away from her, so he pulls out a chair and sits down. Erica beams at him, leaning across the table.

“You know you’re pretty cute,” Erica decides, looking him over. Stiles looks at Martina, who looks in between them while eating her biscuit now, clearly enjoying the show. Stiles looks back at Erica.

“Um, thanks. So are you?”

“I know,” Erica says and laughs, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “You’re single, right? I think I remember hearing that.”

Stiles grimaces. “That’s being passed around?”

“Maybe. Can’t remember. Anyway, I heard you were talking shit about Derek to his face. Pretty ballsy. Pretty hot.”

Stiles looks over at Martina again, who’s smirking. Stiles doesn’t know what angle Erica is getting at, but the two of them are the exact same. He avoids Martina’s eyes as he turns back to Erica.

“Aren’t you dating Boyd?” Stiles asks. Erica rolls her eyes.

“Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate other people,” she chides. She says this, but Stiles knows well enough by now that she’s head over heels for Boyd and has a penchant for being ridiculously flirty, although she’s not being serious. “Especially people who think they’re brave enough to stand up against werewolves.”

She says the last part with a twinkle in her eyes, leaning across the table.

Stiles narrows his eyes.

“I wasn’t standing up to a werewolf,” Stiles says distastefully. “I was standing up to an asshole. Him being a werewolf has nothing to do with it. He was being a dick so I was one too, that’s all.”

Erica smiles sharply and Stiles swears her teeth are slightly elongated. 

“Well, aren’t you interesting?” she praises, leaning back in her chair. She tilts her head slightly and says, “My ride’s here,” but doesn’t make a move to stand up or take her eyes off of Stiles.

Stiles watches her watch him, and watches Martina watch them from the corner of his eye, until someone walks up behind him.

“Stiles?”

Stiles whips around and Derek stands then looking slightly confused, before a look of understanding passes over his face.

“Oh, right, Erica said you volunteer here,” Derek says.

“You were talking about me?” Stiles says incredulously. Derek opens and closes his mouth a couple times before ultimately shaking his head.

“Not on purpose,” he denies.

“Yes on purpose,” Erica says, leaning across the table as she stands up. She kisses her grandma on the head and walks around to Derek’s side, leaning against him. “You know, we’re going to the quarry tomorrow. You should come, bring your friends.”

“Erica,” Derek scolds. Stiles glances between them.

“No, I don’t want to intrude,” Stiles says.

“Trust me, you’ll be fine. Now are you going to invite your friends or do I need to?” Erica says with another head tilt and a smile.

Stiles suddenly has no doubt that she’d find a way to reach out to his friends and invite them so he says, “No, um, I got it.”

“Great, I’ll send you details!”

“You don’t have my number,” Stiles points out.

“I’ll find it,” Erica grins. “Bye, Nana. Bye, Stilinski. See you tomorrow.”

She turns and walks out of the room. Derek stands there awkwardly looking at Stiles.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Stiles says.

“Yeah, guess so,” Derek says, turning and walking out as well.

Martina sighs and Stiles looks over at her. 

“That Hale boy is a tall drink of water,” she says, staring longingly at the doorway.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes, “tell me about it.”