“Goddammit Derek, it’s not the same at school! There’s school and there’s home and there’s the woods and we’ve all managed to separate the two so pull it together before you kill somebody.” Laura hisses, Talia on speakerphone giggling while Derek glowers and resolutely commits locker A435 to memory.
“I didn’t even shift, stop bitching and-”
“You did not just-”
“Laura, Derek stop.” Talia says, harsher, and both quiet down immediately. “Laura what happened?”
“This douchebag Jackson passed some new middle schoolers-”
“Stiles was there!”
“It doesn’t matter Derek, he’s not made of glass! But they were here for that drugs speaker or whatever and runs one of them into a locker and everyone was okay until Derek threatens to rip his throat out with his teeth if he comes near them again and-”
“Derek, what do you think happened?”
“Jackson never even got close.”
Mrs. McCall is a nice woman even though she doesn’t smell too good, but mom hits him every time he wrinkles his nose behind her back so Derek makes himself think about the jar of bacon fat behind the leaf veggies in the fridge he smells whenever Dad’s friend is a smoker or Laura’s weird omega friend comes over. The entire hospital smells like Mrs. McCall, so she must spend a lot of time here, and it’s not as bad as smoke but it’s still kind of stinky.
“Where are we going?” Derek asks, as they twist through the hospital halls. “Why can’t I go back to Eddie’s house? Is it another baby?”
Every time there’s a baby his mom has to go and kiss the head. Derek thinks it’s weird because babies have their own mommies and Derek doesn’t like it when his mom smells like another baby, especially when the baby is another alpha. But one day Dad sat Derek down and showed him a picture of the newspaper, and on the front page was a photo of mom kissing a new beta baby. Dad had said that presidents and mini presidents kiss babies all the time and mom is like the mini president of Beacon Hills so she kisses the babies too. It doesn’t make sense, but this thought of ending up in the newspaper that makes Derek smile. He’ll definitely be cooler than Sam if he’s in the newspaper.
“Derek honey, this baby’s special. He or she’s going to be an omega and we haven’t had an omega in a very long time. So be patient, okay? We can grab tacos on the way home.”
“I guess so.” Derek sighs, pretending to be put out. “Are there going to be newspapers?”
“Probably, you might even end up on TV.” Mom giggles, and then one right turn later they arrive at a room crowded with giant cameras and some ladies in suits holding microphones. Derek can’t help wrinkling his nose at the sudden noise.
“Is that the baby’s room?”
“Yup, there’s nothing we can do about the noise sweetie. I know, let’s play a game; do you remember the new training game Peter has been playing with you?” Mom asks, and Derek grins. Dad had pulled him aside yesterday and said he might be better than Laura, so there’s no way he’s going to miss a chance at practicing!
“I wanna play!” Derek nods, before immediately closing his eyes and grabbing his mom’s wrist. Hands are for babies.
“What’s in the room?”
He starts scenting, breathing into his nose for five mississippi’s and breathing out of his mouth for seven mississippi’s. Peter usually takes him to a store or the park to play, but he’s never practiced anywhere with this many people before. It’s a mess of different flowery smells, but he recognizes all of the layers of powder that his mom wears in the morning. Normally it isn’t too strong, but with this many people he can almost taste the wax on his tongue. Almost everyone in the room is a beta, but there are two alphas Derek can smell specifically. Before he can make sure, there’s suddenly a large crying sound and everyone immediately begins running around frantically. Derek loses his mom’s wrist in the craziness and he frowns, but remembers that they’re all in the same room anyways and once he’s done practicing he can find her again. He tries ignoring the screaming and awkward crying sounds and just smells.
Derek walks the four corners of the room where he can squeeze between the adults trying to get to the middle. He likes it right next to the wall, where there’s not as many ugly noises. He smells the smell that his blue t-shirt has when it comes back from the helper lady clean and still warm, the smell of applesauce in those yellow and green plastic containers that he knows to eat by making a spoon out of the paper lid, and as Derek keeps on walking he’s proud that he can actually picture some stuff inside of his head even though his eyes are closed. He passes two wooden chairs, one of them with a tin water bottle holding something like juice, when it hits him. It’s not like the exploding splash of smell like when Cora drops a bottle and formula goes everywhere, or when Uncle P makes pancakes and puts a small piece of butter on the fire. This is like when Dad drinks coffee in the morning and the water gets a tiny bit warmer and it smells nice and sometimes Derek just sits and watches the cup fill up, drop by drop or when there are cookies in the oven and Derek just sits by the door watching them melt into flat blobs and then poof up into nice cookies, and when the door opens they poof back down and slowly the house smells like cinnamon and this is like that but this is like a small piece of floss string his mom tied to his finger once so he would remember to bring his winter boots home from preschool except this time the string is tied to his nose and even though there’s still a crying sound in the middle of the room Derek can’t help but walk closer and closer but the crying doesn’t get louder.
When Derek opens his eyes he’s standing right next to his mom, who’s holding a new baby and sitting on a nice comfy couch so Derek sits on the comfy couch too. And he brings up his hand to grab his mom’s wrist again, because there are a lot of cameras and lights and Derek’s a little scared, but as soon as his hand’s almost there the baby stops screaming. Derek is shocked, and the entire room almost feels silent for a little bit.
“Mom, I think my hand is magic.” Derek whispers, and his mom pats his head affectionately.
“Why is that?”
“Because watch this.” Derek points, and then puts his hand in his lap again. The gross stuff on the baby’s nose starts bubbling again immediately and it’s kind of gross so Derek lifts his hand back up and the baby is quiet except the breathing noises. It kind of reminds Derek of the way Oreo breathes when he and Derek play catch outside.
“Well if you’re magic, maybe you should try holding the baby!” His mom grins, still smiling for the camera before turning around and Derek is holding the new omega before he even has time to protest. The baby stills completely, and a doctor lady comes to wipe the baby’s face but Derek can’t look away from the wet, gummy smile in front of him.
“Mom…” He complains, losing track of his words because when Derek lifts his left hand up again, the baby resting on his lap and guarded by his right hand, the wrinkly thing makes jerky grabbing motions and ends up clinging onto Derek’s middle finger.
“Smile for the camera sweetie! You can show your friends at school tomorrow.”
Derek notices the flash, but forgets about accidentally leaving a newspaper on Sam’s desk and not playing with Eddie. He closes his eyes when everyone comes to ask his mom questions, trying to train his nose but he still doesn’t know what the baby reminds him of. But Derek knows that when he smells his favourite applesauce his brain says “This is my favourite applesauce," and when he smells orange juice his brain tells him “This is orange juice” so he decides to just listen to his brain. There are still noisy adults being noisy and a lot of ladies who smell like flowers but Derek ignores them all and when he leans down closer to the tiny fist squeezing his number four finger and the tiny baby attached to the tiny fist his brain tells him "This one's mine."
“Derek, please!” Stiles cries, and Derek’s barely able to make out the separate words between Stiles’s trying to muffle himself into Derek’s pillow and just the fact that pillow, the sheets, the sweat soaking into the mattress, even the fucking air smells like rut and heat and the blood rushing down south doesn’t help either.
“What’s wrong?” Derek smirks, realising he’s a new kind of sadistic with every heat; Stiles comes harder and screams louder every month though, so Derek really isn’t inclined to slow down.
“Fuck!” Stiles chokes out one more time, knuckles cracking and his grip on the bedspread tightens while panting so heavily his shoulders shake, air only making it down that far because his stomach is arched too high to breathe with as Stiles begs for cock, tongue, fingers, anything.
“You’re going to have to say it.” Derek chuckles, though too desperate to laugh too long himself. Indulging for a second, he brushes just the tip of his cock against the leaking pussy as his arms bend those legs back further and Stiles is almost folded in half, only to find the steady stream of omega liquid that’s been dripping down for a while now suddenly travel up as Stiles screams and desperately tries clench down on anything, and Derek’s almost inclined to grab one of the plugs Stiles stopped feelings hours ago.
“You… If you I’ll go find another... knot... fuck to-” Stiles pants, elbows shaking as tries to lean up and face his alpha but as soon as the word “another” had come out Derek shoves himself balls deep, teeth and claws growing instinctively as Stiles hits the mattress again.
Somewhere in the background he hears a chorus of “Thank you” and “so fucking full” but everything turned to white and all he knows now is to keep breeding and it isn’t until he’s been rubbing his knot while it spasms inside that Derek’s able to sense again and the first thing he realises is that Stiles in crying. He immediately leans down, letting go of bruised ankles only for them to wrap around his waist and Stiles to cry harder.
“I’m so full you’re so big goddammit I can feel cum in the back of my throat do you think you’re Niagara Falls or something you asshole I love you so much don’t you dare get up if anyone tries to comes and steal you close your eyes so i can rip their fucking throat out and feed it to our gerbils I hope you know your saggy graying is a sadistic kinky piece of shit-”
“I love you too.” Derek smiles, groaning slightly and leaning down to rest; he adds a few more bite marks for good measure. “And Stiles, you’re in heat. No one on their way is coming for me.”
“That’s because you haven’t rubbed off on your abs before. Like a goddam washboard why does everyone expect me to do laundry when you could roll around in a tub and wash an entire load goddammit it stop working out so much did I tell you the store of how my dad arrested me on the way to kill Heather once wait wait wait this is not the reality I wanted-”
“Up.” Derek replies simply, and Stiles immediately leans on his elbows and grabs onto Derek’s shoulders, groaning and eyes fluttering when the knot sinks down deeper as they’re vertical now. “What do you want to drink?”
“Daddy’s cream.” Stiles replies in his honey-boo-boo voice, raising an eyebrow and laughing and groaning again when Derek nips his ear in reply. Stiles is always more talkative with a knot, hunger temporarily satiated as he tries to make up for the other half of heat he spends incoherent. Derek would never tell him, because the little shit’s got him whipped enough, but he thinks its fucking adorable.
“Prune juice it is then.” Derek nods, carefully maneuvering himself and the Stiles barnacle wrapped to his front with an almost-ease that can only come with practice. He pours them both a glass, only spilling a little with said barnacle complaining and trying to sabotage his efforts as they make their way to the kitchen table. “Neither of us is doing anything until you finish this.”
“I have the years you wait you out.” Stiles huffs, but takes small sips anyways as they start talking about the new deck Derek’s been building for the McCalls and halfway through the glass Stiles starts getting so desperate Derek takes it from him to make sure he doesn’t actually choke and feeds it to him in small spoonfuls until the class is empty and Stiles is crying again.
“Do you wanna be good for me?”
“Derek, Der… Please I-”
“I’m going to have to put this away, but I need you to stay right here so you don’t get hurt. Please?” Derek asks, spreading Stiles out on the now empty kitchen table as he runs to the sink and back. This time when they’re done, Stiles groans and collapses against Derek’s chest after demanding Derek sit on the couch while they’re tied.
“Do you think we could order delivery?”
“We could be decent by then. Or we could like do the home alone thing where we slide a check through the dog door and-”
“Stiles there’s no way you could eat anything right-”
“But I could just chew it up and then spit it out why are you acting like someone’s who never had Zeus’s second gift to mankind aka orange chicken in-”
They order the chicken.
“So you’ll leave me the fuck alone if I do this?” Derek asks, grumbling with a handful of purple flowers as he stands at the front of the school. Yes it’s Junior-Senior prom next month, but it’s a well-known fact Junior’s don’t actually go.
“For the rest of your life.” Laura rolls her eyes, gesturing vaguely to the school before nodding and heading in.
Siblings argue and shove each other around and Laura and Derek are no different but the Stiles argument in particular they’ve been throwing punches over for the past 5 years, and with Laura going to uni next year Derek would really like to put it behind him. It’s always the same argument too, no matter how old they are, that starts with Laura screaming “You fucking pedophile” and ends with Derek growling “Rot in Hell.” A week ago when it had started again, as Laura asked Derek to ask family friend and boyfriend-less single Heather to prom and Derek, after half a second of deliberation, and pointedly remarked that he would rather wax his legs. Heather was funny and nice and pretty but she was also not Stiles, which had led Laura to argue “Stiles is probably experimenting with kids his own goddamn age like that McCall kid why don’t you-” and Talia had to intervene when Derek actually lunged.
So here they are. Well, Laura left. So here he is. Making peace. One dance won’t be that bad, especially when Heather knows they’re casual and he’ll survive some pictures and a few songs and pine for the rest of this unfortunate life. Life as usual. He hides the flowers in some newspaper, slightly less auspicious than an actual bouquet during prom serenading season, and has almost made it from the parking lot to the cafeteria entrance on the other side of the brown brick building when a 5’2” projectile comes and hits him from the left while he’s too busy over thinking to notice anything. Halfway before they hit the ground Derek comes back to Earth, realises what’s going on, and goes into a whole new panic mode because Stiles is about to hit the fucking ground this is not okay what if he breaks something what do I do and he grabs projectile, wincing a bit when his shoulder takes most of gravity being a bitch.
“Stiles? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Derek?!” Stiles sits up, straddling Derek’s chest before sighing, some weight lifted off his chest.
And onto Derek’s. Literally.
“Is everything okay? Where are you going? Aren’t you going to be late for school?” Derek asks, scared if he moves Stiles will crawl off. Stiles does anyways, and they’re laying side by side on the sidewalk next to the high school.
“Uh, yeah. I just had something to um, ask, well… I had something to as- tell you?” Stiles replies, stuttering and it’s clear whatever gave him the vigor to tackle an alpha five years his senior is gone.
“And…?” Derek leads, after a few moments of silence, when the atmosphere has drifted from ‘you must be catching your breath’ to ‘talk before I do something really dumb like kiss you.’
“Uh.... hi.” Stiles starts, and Derek forces himself to calm down and wait until Stiles is ready. This is clearly going to take a while, but Stiles continues rather quickly. “So I talked to Cora on the phone a few days ago. On Saturday. And, um, she said you were going to prom?”
“Yeah. You know, Junior-Senior prom. With a friend. Laura’s friend.” Derek replies, suddenly panicking. This is exactly why he did not want to go to prom.
“Oh. As friends then?” Stiles says quietly, turning to face Derek but turning back to stare at the clouds as soon as Derek meets his gaze. The relief is still there, but Stiles’s shoulders are still tense. It’s hard not to touch.
“She’s really pretty. I looked her up in the yearbooks in the library.” Stiles replies, like admitting a secret.
“If you’re into that sort of thing.”
“And… you are?”
“She’s just a friend.” Derek replies, and when Stiles still isn’t smiling he decides to just fuck it all. Not literally. “I’d rather go with you.”
“What?!” Stiles replies, so surprised he gets up only to lie back down again. He’s still not smiling, but his voice is slowly flushing.
It’s be so easy to add ‘Your wack macarena moves bring all the boys to the yard’ or joke about it, but Derek’s already put it out there so he just shrugs and let’s Stiles think what he wants to. They continue to lie there, more comfortably now, nobody bringing up the fact Stiles is slowly inching closer and closer. “If you don’t think I should go I won’t.”
“No! I mean… if you don’t want to… I just…” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “Cora said you were doing it for Laura. I was just curious because….”
“Have you ever made a flower crown before?” Derek asks, sitting up.
“I happen to have too many flowers. Come over here, lemme measure your head.” He continues, unwrapping the newspapers and wrapping one steam around Stiles’s head to get a circumference idea before he starts weaving them together.
“That’s very alpha of you.” Stiles laughs sarcastically, but watches on.
“Cora likes them, so I’ve watched quite a few Youtube videos.”
“Of course. Laura is shit at it so I’ve got the youngest on my side now.” Derek grins, winking and barely containing his laugh when Stiles turns red and mutters ‘fuck’ under his breath.
“That’s very devious of you.”
“All’s fair.” Derek shrugs, taking the twisty-tie from the coloured tissue paper on the bouquet and knotting it around the last two stems for extra security. “The fruit of my labour. If you take it off I’m going to take it personally.”
“Hu-” Stiles is cut off as Derek yanks him a bit closer before plopping the crown down on his head. “I’m not Cora’s age anymore.” He mutters darkly.
“I think it looks cute.” Derek grins, before standing up and brushing off any stray shrub pieces. “Do you need a ride back?”
“My dad’s parked out front.”
“Your dad?!” Derek asks, but Stiles is already heading off.
“I told him I had to talk to the counselor about the gifted program! Bye!”
Derek stares after the retreating back and laughs to himself, going inside after Stiles has turned and can’t be seen anymore.
Laura looks up, as a tween omega running across the open-window cafeteria with an obnoxiously bright purple flower crown has captured some people’s attention, and doesn’t have the heart to say anything when, even running, his smile looks like it could single-handedly blind the sun. She doesn’t say anything when Derek walks inside empty-handed, or when she hears him promising Boyd the $350 he saved up for tattoo purposes if he’ll go on a blind prom date.
It’s just his luck that on his first day junior year Derek’s phone goes off, for the first time in entire education history, during the middle of his Suburban Culture and Energy Sustainability class--the one with the professor leading a team of students to Michigan for a three-week research break in December. A team he wants to join.
He’s angry enough to turn the phone off until he gets back to his apartment that night, spending enough time during office hours stumbling over words in hopes of conveying passion to fix the awful first impression but a feeling of dread comes over him when there are more than sixty missed called and the unread texts are in the hundreds.
This more than the total amount of times he’s been called up until today all added together. The latest one is from Boyd, who attatched a selfie with Heather, a congradulations message, and a photo of a bank transfer amount of $350 with the memo “we’re even.” The rest are from his mom, Stiles, and Mr. Stilinski and Derek immediately calls Talia before he assumes the worst. Or best.
“Derek? Where have you-”
“I was with my professor and then I had-”
“His heat hit this morning.” Talia cuts him off before immediately hanging up, which Derek is grateful for because he’s already jumped out the window and on his way to his Jeep with nothing but a phone and the keys on him.
It’s crazy how the past 21 years of his life seem so short in comparison to the half hour drive he has ahead.