Hey...

I'm Carter the wonderful TAD header by @mayjeffneverstopyou

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

Pushing Up Daisies

A.N.

Hey! Hello, It is sterek week and for today's two prompts my bestie and I did a sort of mirror fic where we had different POVs and tone but did stories that went together. I think it is a wonderful idea and I hope we executed it in an exciting way for you to read! Please read both parts as they fit together like puzzle pieces. The first is mine and the second is @halevetica 's. Please enjoy!

Domestic Bliss

Stiles rolled over with a grumpy sigh. Without opening his eyes to the early morning light he reached over to feel an empty space and frowned. His head lifted topped with violent sleep tousled hair as he squinted trying to find his husband. "Derek?" Stiles yanked his foot back up from the cold wood floors and then slid into Derek's slippers. Stiles might've complained one too many times about how cold the floors were until Derek rolled his eyes and looked in boxes till he found his own slippers. He didn't know if he'd ever get sick of Derek's face with that cute fond look even as he tried to be upset with him.

He yawned gently and looked around the still bare room. There was nothing except their furniture and boxes waiting to be unpacked. In the three days previous they hadn't gotten to the bedroom much yet, but he still smiled when he walked past the box labelled Stiles' PJs. It was filled with all of Derek's old t-shirts and basketball shorts. He had filled the box and labelled it as Derek's, but Derek came over and crossed it out and rewrote it while teasing about how they were no longer his own as Stiles wore them more than he did now. Stiles felt a lightness in his chest as he reflected on how much of a dream moving into their new house had been. They were still in the idyllic honeymoon phase where every night was the best one yet. The happiest day of his life had happened, they went on their honeymoon, and now just a couple months later he was moving into his dream home with a man better than his wildest imagination. His life was perfect. He had his dad, their wonderful home, and Derek.

Stiles reached for his toothbrush right next to Derek's and there was that overwhelming sense of love and happiness again. No matter how much they bickered or even fought, being with Derek was like the moment you figure out that everything will actually be okay in the end. It was that sigh at the end of a hard day and the first smile after being so sad you think you can't breathe. Derek meant safety, love, and home and Stiles finally understood what his parents had. He always appreciated that they were amazing together and that's what made losing her so hard. It was such a privilege to find someone that you didn't have to tolerate living with, someone that instead you had to survive living in the moments without them.

He rinsed his mouth out and spit into the white sink. Looking up at the mirror he tried to tame his hair while calling out again, "What do you want for breakfast?"

His brow furrowed as he received no response. He made his way down the creaky steps with soft padding slippered feet. He called out to the house as he entered the empty kitchen, "Oh husband mine? It's rude to not give me morning snuggles and kisses." Stiles pulled some coffee grounds out of an otherwise barren cabinet. He saw a note on the coffee machine and plucked it off with a quick snatch.

"'Morning sweetheart, went for an early run. Hope you slept well. Coffee should be hot (just like you) See you shortly. -D' Hmm. I'd rather have a sleepy husband, but I will take coffee." Stiles rubbed over the corner of the note where there was a dirty brown finger print on the paper. He must've had to clean up some coffee grounds. Stiles smiled down at his husband's rushed sloppy writing.

He used the last two slices of bread to make toast and decided he'd run to the store quick so they could have a proper lunch. He was getting sick of quick sandwiches, they needed some real food in the house. He could probably get back right after Derek showered and as he was making a protein shake if he hurried.

He grabbed the notes Derek had left on the counter and scrawled a quick note back to him for when he got back from his run.

Stiles balanced a piece of toast on top of his mug of coffee and stuffed the one he was eating in his mouth so he could open his bedroom door to get ready.

*** Stiles always somehow got the cart with the psychotic wheel and it was driving him crazy. He'd already bumped into two other carts because his possessed one took turns like they were an option instead of the only unoccupied path in a crowded aisle. He tried kicking the wheel to no avail and then sighed in defeat. He almost grabbed a box of cocoa pebbles, but instead grabbed Derek's middle aged woman cereal. He urged the wire monster towards the peanut butter while thinking wistfully of his abandoned chocolatey goodness.

He had tried to stick to the list, but he had gotten carried away with all of the things he thought they could fill the pantry with. He had gotten two cans of condensed milk despite not having a recipe for it. It was just something always in the back of the cabinet growing up. Somehow placing them in the basket had made those little flutters in his chest tickle again as if they somehow made their house a home with their uselessness. He had also gotten a couple autumn themed candles. Derek would hate them. Stiles smiled even at the thought of Derek sneering at a sweet vanilla chai kisses candle.

Stiles looked up from his overflowing cart to look directly at Derek. "Derek!" His grin completely took over his face.

"Stiles...hey, what are you doing here?" Derek sounded confused and his whole body froze. Stiles hardly ever spooked Derek or caught him off guard like that, but he supposed it was probably pretty strange for them both to be there.

"Oh you know, I wanted to fill up the house. Get some groceries for my husband, even though he did leave me in an empty bed. There's a monster in our house that eats peanut butter like breathing." Stiles deadpanned.

"A monster in our... oh right," Derek chuckled sheepishly.  "Sorry about that, I just wanted to get an early start. I made sure the coffee was ready though." Derek came around his cart and stood in front of Stiles to give him a quick kiss.

"Yeah thank you, that was really nice honey bun." Stiles shot out finger guns as he called him the overly sweet name.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly and then reached for the candle Stiles knew he would dislike the most. "Really?" He practically sneered at the name before putting it back into the cart.

"Hey say what you want, white girls got nothing on my fall game. I got the healthy cardboard cereal you pretend to enjoy as a compromise." Stiles sent him a saucy wink.

Derek's smile was small, but Stiles knew he loved the little things that showed how much they appreciated each other the most. "You take such good care of me." Derek praised and reached out to brush an appreciative thumb across Stiles' chin.

"I'm great at this marriage thing." Stiles mused. He finally looked away from his handsome husband's face to take in the state of his muddy joggers. "Hey, what are you doing here?" He peered around Derek's wide chest into his cart. "Did you sign us up for a HGTV show I don't know about? A rake and paint? What happened to you by the way? I thought I was the one with godlike grace and agility?" Stiles snarked self deprecatingly.

Derek turned his back to move some of the supplies around to show Stiles. "I was just trying to fix up that old building for you. I know you were excited about it, and the yard could use some tlc."

Stiles moved his cart to gently bump Derek's hip. "Look at you, not so bad at this yourself handsome. I will fight you for the husband of the year title though. I was thinking of making butternut squash soup and salad for lunch, how does that sound?" Stiles looked down at his cart to see if he forgot any ingredients.

"A home cooked meal? You win automatically. I'm headed out actually, so I'll see you at home?" Derek said briskly.

"Okay yeah. Before you head out you need me to get anything for you from the store?" Stiles joked.

"Maybe a less poisonous candle? Or are you gunning for my life insurance already?" Derek smirked before pressing a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Be safe." He added.

"You have unscented ones. And I don't need the money nearly as much as I need someone to make me coffee in the morning." Stiles confessed over his shoulder as he walked away from him.

Derek headed to the counter to check out. "Oh, maybe some of that creamer with the picture of the dog dressed as a pumpkin? You know the one." He called back.

Stiles looked in his cart at the cat curled up in the pumpkin on the creamer bottle already in his cart. Damn did he love his husband.

***

The plastic bag rustled as Stiles pulled out the thyme and garlic. He was somewhat glad Derek was out in the yard raking the leaves still. He adored spending time with his husband, but Derek and him both had verydifferent ideas of what a kitchen should look like while cooking. Derek cleaned dishes as he used them. Stiles was happy if the oven wasn't on fire. He still had grocery bags that needed to be unpacked, all of the soup ingredients were piled near the paper towels, and he had a half chopped onion near the pot he'd need to use for the soup. He arranged the daisies he had picked up for Derek in a green vase with meticulous care. He knew how much Derek liked plants in the house and secretly loved the romantic gesture of receiving flowers. He smiled at the finished bouquet and then returned to the onion while humming "I'll make a man out of you."

Stiles continued unpacking groceries and prepping the vegetables while working his way through the Mulan soundtrack. It drove him crazy while cooking if he had a song stuck in his head.

Stiles brought the squash to his cutting board and pushed aside the bowl . He moved to the sink to wash off the bits of onion skin that clung to his fingertips and looked out the window. He saw Derek frenetically raking leaves. Just the sight of him made Stiles pause while the warm water cascaded down his hands to rapidly circle the drain. He must've felt the eyes on him because he looked up almost immediately and gave him a subtle wave. Stiles' lips pulled into a grin and he waved back.

Stiles turned back to the squash with that warm feeling still inside of him. He placed the wobbly vegetable on its side and attempted to chop it in half. His still damp hands slipped and in a split second the knife sliced through the air and was flung straight towards his bare foot.

Stiles' eyes widened and in a fraction of a moment he flung his hand towards the knife too late to catch it, but with a flash of his eyes the knife halted midair. He quickly gripped it before letting the glow leave his eyes. The same eyes that then frantically searched to see if Derek had somehow appeared in the kitchen to see him or was peering inside the kitchen through the window. After verifying Derek was still in the yard he let out a relieved sigh.

Two years ago Stiles had pictured his future life completely different. He was about to give up on small town life and forget about ever being able to settle down before he met Derek. Having magic was never easy on him. People brought him all sorts of issues to solve like he had all the answers. It made dating and keeping people close really difficult. He never knew what to say to people. 'Oh, sorry I had to leave our date early. Someone I've never met before needed my help killing kelpies that were drowning people!' Some how he thought that wouldn't be the best second date opener. He kept being dragged into mystical hijinks as he was the only druid anywhere near their town. It was almost as if he had a magical beacon on himself saying I'm magical and I will help you.

It all became too much. His dad was the only one close to him that knew who he really was, what he could do. It was tiring always lying to people. Then, one day he had helped a dryad from New York. He was so grateful to Stiles he had invited him to move to the city. Stiles had told him how lonely the small town supernatural life was. How it felt like you were always lying and there was no way out, no one to share it with. He had even tried to stay out of the supernatural world, but it kept dragging him back in. The man then told him how different the city was. There were entire communities he could join and Stiles finally had hope. As loathe as he was to leave his dad, he had decided to go.

The month before he would've left he met Derek. Suddenly it wasn't about what drug him back to the life, it was about what kept him in the one he wanted. So many times he had wanted to tell Derek, wanted to not be lying. He knew it was better this way, he would give up anything for Derek and their perfect life. He wanted to be normal for Derek. He gave up magic and turned away anyone who asked him for help. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to Derek because of him. He had his regular life now, and it was perfect. Derek was perfect. He was gorgeous and dorky, even if sometimes he could be a bit boring with his need to be obsessively domestic. Stiles loved it. He loved his boring normal life. He didn't care what he gave up for it or how much he had to lie about himself.

Stiles hadn't realized how long he'd been lost in thought. He looked down to the now soup filled pot he had made on autopilot. He would have to call Derek in soon now that lunch was ready, but he needed a few moments to collect himself. Derek always knew when he was feeling deeply, but he didn't want to sour the day.

He was about to go out the back door when he heard a knock at the front. Stiles hurried to the door, maybe it was his dad popping in.

It was a man with a charming smile and a smooth voice, "You must be Stiles."

Stiles was caught off guard. "Hi, and who are you? Do you know my husband? Do I know you?"

The man chuckled, "No, not yet. But I'm hoping to be good friends with you."

Stiles heard the back door crash open and slam shut. The harsh sound was on Derek's honey do list to fix.

"You and your husband. Of course. I just wanted to meet the new neighbors." Right on cue as he spoke Stiles heard Derek's heavy shoes clunking towards them.

There was something about this man's eyes Stiles didn't quite trust, but he wanted to be inviting. "Oh, do you live nearby?"

Derek shouldered in front of him pushing open the door even further. "This is private property, what do you want?"

Stiles' jaw was dropped about as wide as the man's shocked eyes. The man stammered out, "Uh, sorry, I was just..." He took a quick step back while his eyes never left Derek. "It was nice meeting you."

Stiles thrust a hand out after him, as he beckoned him back. "Oh don't go! No, I'm sorry. This caveman with no manners is my husband." Stiles shot Derek a withering glare. "Please don't mind him. We'd love your company. I just finished making lunch."

Derek snapped his head to look at Stiles and rudely replied, "I'm sure he can't stay."

The man started to decline, "Oh, no, I-"

Stiles gripped Derek's arm and dug his fingertips in. "I insist!"

The man and Derek stood in some sort of awkward stalemate. Stiles could not believe his husband. Derek was never like this he was so friendly and charming whenever they met new people normally. Sure he'd trash talk them and let him know later if he didn't really like them, but this is the first time Stiles had ever seen him so hostile and rude.

Stiles pointedly said, "Come in. What was your name?" Derek didn't budge till Stiles started to shoo him back into the house.

Stiles had no idea what had gotten into Derek his jaw was clenched, but he backed up.

"Ansel Williams." Ansel looked at them with a strangely intense gaze. "But you can call me Andy. I can see that your husband recognizes the name. It's very unique. It's odd that you don't th-"

Stiles looked at Derek completely lost. It made sense why Derek was acting hostile if he didn't get along with Ansel, but Stiles didn't know why then Ansel was acting like he wanted to be friends. He felt like he was missing something.

He just was about to say maybe they should have lunch some other time wanting to trust his husband when Derek interrupted the man. "My name is Derek, nice to see you again," Derek stuck out his hand which Ansel took hesitantly. "Stiles made soup. I hope you're hungry."

"Famished." The man regained some of his earlier confidence as he followed them into the dining area.

***

Stiles passed around the freshly baked rolls again hoping to cut the tension that had accumulated over the meal. "So what kind of special assets does your company acquire?"

Andy replied with his mouth full, "Well it depends though we really go after the more coveted and unique people."

"Oh, so you're a headhunter?" Stiles said interested, hoping to steer the conversation in a direction that wouldn't have his husband glaring and quiet.

"Something like that." The man smirked and Stiles wondered if he was being modest about what he actually did. "What do you guys do?" Andy asked while gesturing between them holding a half eaten roll.

"Well, I'm an online web designer so I work from home." Stiles looked at a completely silent Derek, who seemed like he was sitting on tacks, before turning back. "And my wonderful husband is a basketball coach at the high school. The kids absolutely love him. He's so good with them. So much better than he is with adults sometimes." Stiles gushed proudly. 

He gave Derek a pointed look and gave his hand a few rough pats hoping to coax him into the conversation. Stiles didn't want their very first introduction to the neighborhood to be so stilted.

"How very domestic." Andy commented.

"It's a very rewarding job." Derek pushed out without an ounce of the pride and happiness Stiles knew his job brought him.

"He's really very good. He took the kids to state last year. Honey you should go show him the photo in the garage and your trophies! I have to go get dessert ready anyway." Stiles stood up to go to the kitchen. Before he left he pressed a kiss to Derek's temple and whispered into his ear, "Be nice and make friends." Stiles dug his fingers into Derek's shoulder firmly to try and convey how rude Derek was being.

He smiled at Andy and said,  "Dessert will be just five minutes."

When he looked back at Derek he wore the same smile he gave Stiles whenever asked to take out the trash. It was begrudging and appeasing, but also he could never help the tiniest bit of adoration from sneaking in there whenever he smiled at Stiles. No matter how snarky.

Stiles pulled the pie he had warmed up out of the oven and placed the ice cream on the counter to thaw a bit.

As Stiles sliced the pie he thought about how rude Derek had been. It was so out of character for him. Sure Derek could be a bit gruff, but that was downright hostile at moments. Stiles was glad Andy hadn't stormed out or that he didn't take offense at any point. Stiles wanted this move to go well. He wanted to be settled and get along with the neighbors. He wanted the dream life for Derek and him. He didn't know how a grumpy Derek would fit in with his image of summer block barbeques and borrowing cups of sugar. Sure Stiles knew neither of them were the overly friendly or social type, but he just wanted them to have the white picket life. Stiles cleaned up the plates where the viscous cherry red pie filling had smeared while he thought deeply.

Maybe Derek didn't want that. Maybe he wanted it to be just the two of them, which Stiles certainly wouldn't object to. He was just so confused because up to this point Derek had been so kind to any friends Stiles introduced to him and meeting new people he always flashed his pearly bunny smile that melted him every time. Stiles licked the pie server clean before tossing it in the sink. He scooped the hard ice cream with great effort while sticking out his tongue in concentration so he didn't fling it across the kitchen.

Stiles wanted to immediately ask how they knew each other, but Derek had acted so coldly he figured it was not a good time. If they had bonded in the garage Stiles would mention it over dessert. The whole thing was so puzzling to Stiles.

The three forks clinked against the plates as he placed them. Just as he was about to bring the plates to the table he heard the garage door opening. That was strange. Stiles made his way to the garage to investigate the noise forgetting the pie for a moment.

He opened the garage door to see Derek standing under the big rolling door. He turned to Stiles and began to close the distance.

Stiles spoke as he moved, "The pie is ready. Where'd Andy go?" Stiles started to lean around Derek to look out the garage door. "You didn't murder him did you?" Stiles joked.

Derek let out a small laugh. "He had to go, wife called."

Derek swiped a thumb across Stiles' lower lip and licked it off. "Mmm, cherry?"

"Yeah. It is." Stiles replied with a question hidden in his tone. Stiles squinted at Derek puzzled, but for the moment willing to let it go.

Derek crowded into Stiles' space close enough he could smell his aftershave and forced him to take a step back as he reached past Stiles to close the garage door. "Shall we?" Derek straightened up and gestured to the door grandly with a sweet as pie smile.

Fuck the neighborhood, as long as he had that smile in his house he didn't care how many people Derek chased off.

***

Stiles let the plates clatter loudly after he scrubbed the water away much harsher than needed. If he kept it up the china nor their kitchen towels would survive their first year. He didn't like how evasive Derek had been while they ate pie. Stiles had always loved how honest they were in their relationship together.

Well, except for the one thing he'd always kept. In marrying Derek he made a lifelong commitment to leaving the supernatural world behind. It burned at something deep inside of him. This space and what seemed like secrets between them, they ignited all of his worry and fear. He left his past behind to find a future with his husband, but why did it seem like Derek was hiding in their present? When he thought about it Derek had been strange all day.

Usually he would wake him up before going for a run to let him know and give him a kiss. Usually, Derek wasn't as cold and rushed as he was when Stiles bumped into him at the store. Usually, he preferred to get into Stiles' way in the kitchen because of how much he loved to see Stiles move around the house. Usually, he asked Stiles to keep him company while they did yard work. Usually, he'd be right next to him putting away lunch or doing the dishes. Usually, Derek didn't make it seem like he had things to hide from Stiles.

Stiles pulled himself out of his pity party as he dried a spoon. His husband loved him. This could just be a misunderstanding or a bad day. He could've just been cranky at Andy for interrupting their lunch. Maybe they had history. The thought of maybe they were already growing apart popped just as fast as it appeared. It was laughable to the point Stiles couldn't even believe it had come from his own admittedly over active brain. They were so madly in love with each other it was frankly disgusting. Was he irritated with Derek? Absolutely. However, they were not the type of relationship to let one bad day ruin even the rest of their week. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles was definitely not the type of husband to let this go though. 

Stiles stormed into the unpacked living room. He stopped right where Derek was kneeling in front of the TV to unpack a ripped box of DVDs. "We're going to talk about how lunch went, and how you know Andy. Also, don't try to make me think it isn't a big deal. You don't normally act like that. And don't you dare try and tell me it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you Derek Hale- Stilinski and that lunch was not you and you shutting me out and not talking to me definitely isn't you...." Stiles drug a breath in desperately while waiting a second for Derek to reply. "Okay I'm done now you can speak." Stiles rested his hands that had been gesturing wildly onto his hips.

Derek sighed like he knew what was coming and put the DVDs on the shelf before facing Stiles. "I had an unpleasant run in with his brother."

Stiles squinted at Derek's genuine face. "How unpleasant? Do I need to go over there with the rest of the pie laced with laxatives, or poison?"

Derek huffed a laugh and then wrapped a coaxing arm around his waist. "No, I was being an ass, I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry. I promise to behave in the future."

Stiles melted into him and sighed in relief. "I like when you misbehave. I don't like when I feel far from you. Next time just slam the door in his face and tell me why we don't like him now." Stiles snuggled into his chest.

"Deal." Derek sweetly kissed the top of his head. "I found the DVDs. Pick one while I shower."

*** Stiles was fighting to keep his eyes awake. No matter how much he loved seeing Bucky Barnes in uniform, the feeling of Derek's warmth radiating into his side where he was gently leaning on him was like no other. If that wasn't enough Derek was slowly dragging his thumb along his knee lulling him deeper. Stiles was so content he could live on this edge between his dreams and the dream forever.

Derek jolted and pulled him out of his fulfilled state. Stiles cocked his head to the side in question.

Derek replied, "We should make popcorn. I think the box with the popcorn maker got put upstairs. I'll grab it. You don't have to pause it." Derek stood and a cool rush of air met his side.

"I was just about to fall asleep, that's perfect. Popcorn will keep me awake. Do you want help?" Stiles offered noncommittally as he tucked himself into the blanket.

"No, I've got it. Keep the couch warm for me." Derek spoke already at the base of the stairs.

Stiles yawned, but he sat up to try and stay awake. He absentmindedly checked his phone for a couple moments before he heard the front door jingle.

That was odd. He hadn't heard Derek come down, nor did he know why he'd need to go outside. Stiles pulled the blanket off himself and stood up with a curious gaze towards the dark hallway. As he moved closer he slowly adjusted to the light and right as he wound around the corner a shape suddenly moved towards him out of the darkness. Stiles stumbled backwards in shock back into the living room. As the shape followed him the light spilled from the TV and lamp to illuminate his face and Stiles stopped in the middle of the room out of confusion.

"Andy?" Stiles asked.

"Stiles, hey sorry it's so late. I wa-" Andy wore a charming smile that Stiles didn't fall for one bit this time.

"The front door was locked. Why are you in my home?" Stiles demanded. He hoped Derek stayed upstairs long enough for him to deal with this. Whatever this was. Stiles crossed his arms and continued on, "Is this about your brother? If so, I doubt an argument is worth breaking into the sheriff's sons' home."

Andy took small leisurely steps closer. "This has nothing to do with Ansel. He was just an unfortunate loss along the way thanks to your dear husband."

Stiles tried to figure out what that meant while looking around the room for weapons. His options were limited to whipping DVDs at him like a knock off Gambit or running to the kitchen for knives. "What do you want with my husband?"

Andy laughed. "We don't want him. He is just in our way. You're quite special Stiles."

Stiles had heard enough. He looked to where the door was left ajar like Andy planned on it getting used again soon. Almost as if someone else would be coming in soon. He didn't know what was going on he just knew he had to deal with this fast especially if there were more coming.

"We just want to talk. We just want you to come with u-"

Stiles cut him off with a sudden uppercut and then immediately dashed for the kitchen. The punch hadn't had quite the effect he hoped because Andy was hot on his heels enraged. Stiles heard his steps too close. He wouldn't make it to the knife block.

Stiles went full speed into the stack of boxes on the other side of the kitchen and kicked out a leg behind himself blindly hoping to keep just enough distance between them. Thankfully he found what he was looking for as Andy gripped his calf tightly trying to wrench it to the side so he could grab Stiles. Stiles spun around and violently smashed the heavy wok into the side of Andy's skull. He used the second of dazed confusion to push against Andy's chest.

Stiles' eyes widened as Andy grew claws and fangs in front of him. The man before him growled as his eyes flashed blue.

"Oh fuck." Stiles swore.

"We just need you to come with us you little bastard. If you come easy we won't hurt your husband, but you're coming either way."

Stiles saw red at that threat, but he pushed it down. There was that "we" again. Stiles felt his stomach drop as he realized his mistake. The door was open so Andy could take him back through it, but if someone was going to follow they would've already. They didn't need to come in through the door because they were already inside.

It didn't take that long to get a popcorn maker.

With that realization Stiles heard a crash of glass shattering upstairs.

Stiles felt everything at once rage, despair, hopelessness, and finally determination. He held up his palms as they flashed with a blinding painful light. It was as if he had lit up their kitchen with a flash bang that could harness the sun itself.

As Andy groaned in pain and clutched at his face disoriented, Stiles pushed past him to sprint upstairs.

He must've been too loud because despite being temporarily blinded, Andy was able to grab onto his torso and sink his claws in before he had even made it through the living room. Stiles shouted in pain from the digits that dug deep into his flesh.

He needed to get to Derek. Andy was in his way.

Stiles gripped both of the werewolf's wrists and attempted something he knew would drop him instantly. Lightning crackled around Stiles' white knuckles that were now covered in his own blood from where they gripped Andy's splattered arms. Stiles could feel the man shaking behind him, but if anything it just drove his claws in deeper. Werewolves had a high tolerance for electrocution. However, it did make them susceptible to other forms of magic. Stiles' eyes started to glow pure white as all of the moisture from the man started to pull out of his eyes, his ears, and finally his mouth. First it was just little trickling strands and then pouring streams that mixed with the electricity as the moisture started to explode out of his skin like a wrung out sponge.

With a heavy thunk the dried out crisp husk of a man fell to the floor.

Stiles started towards the stairs again, but for the second time in less than a minute was dumbstruck with the fangs and claws in front of him. "You're a werewolf!?" Stiles shouted the question at his newlywed husband with wide eyes as he nearly ran into him.

Derek looked relieved, well as much as Stiles could tell through the sideburns his husband never had before.

The floor where Derek had just dropped down groaned in protest as another heavy snarling body thumped down right behind him.

Stiles saw the man's red eyes trained on his husband and reacted instinctively as Derek whipped around to face the threat.

Stiles' hand raised to their cherished house plant sitting on the table up against the stairs while a vibrant green glow emanated from his fingertips and eyes. The pothos had been with them since their first apartment. Lydia gave it to them as a housewarming present. Derek would be upset with how much care he had put into keeping it alive, but he couldn't think about that right now.

The thin vines whipped out and grew in both number and size. In the blink of an eye they wrapped around the alpha's arms and legs just as he was about to swipe his claws at Derek. The green ropes held him taut as even more sprouted thorns and wound around his neck. The alpha began to scream as the thorned vines pushed into his eyes and ears causing blood to gush out. His scream was choked off as vines burst out of his mouth. He fell lifeless to his knees and then finally slumped to the ground as the vines atrophied and turned brown.

Stiles breathed in and out to calm himself from the carnage that had happened in their previously peaceful house in but a few moments.

He lowered his hand slowly and the glow left his eyes, eyes that now met Derek's after they left the now non-existent threat.

He took in his husband's shocked face and didn't even know how to start the conversation, hell the multiple conversations, they now had to have. Like what was he supposed to say, 'Hey honey, why yes I've always been able to do this. Dear, how long have you been a werewolf? Love of my life, would you like to burn the bodies or should I start to look up pig farms?' Stiles felt a pit well in his stomach, for once he did not want to talk to his husband. He didn't want to ruin what they had. Maybe he could wipe Derek's memory. He was spiraling he knew, but he couldn't give up their perfect life. He never wanted to bring Derek into the supernatural life, but here they were.

"You have magic?!" Derek exclaimed.

Derek's eyes fell to Stiles' blood soaked torso. "You're hurt." Derek slowly reached out then paused, almost like he was expecting Stiles to lash out with a dandelion from the yard.

Stiles looked down at his stomach almost noticing the wounds finally through the shock of what had all happened. "I'll be fine really." Stiles looked at Derek's paused hand on his way to reach out. "It's actually helpful that you're a werewolf." Stiles chuckled weakly. "Can I touch you?" Stiles sounded so very unsure about it even he was surprised that he was talking to his husband. The one person that never made Stiles feel unsure.

Derek let out a desperate whispered,  "Please."

Stiles' eyes started to water at the tender feelings and warring worries welling inside of him. He wouldn't have known what to do if Derek turned him away. He smiled as he reached out to grab Derek's arm. "This shouldn't hurt at all, I'm just borrowing your ability to heal." Stiles hesitantly gripped Derek's forearms and focused. Golden glowing veins spidered from Derek's arms to Stiles' waiting palms. His wounds gently glowed the same golden color as they closed.

"Take what you need." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Derek's head swiveling back and forth.

After his flesh had finished fusing back together Stiles released his arm somewhat regretfully, he liked the contact.

"Who hurt you?" Derek spoke with purpose as he pushed past Stiles toward the living room.

Stiles felt his body flush with panic again. He rushed past Derek and pulled the blanket from the couch with a gust of magic to quickly cover the Kentucky fried crispy man, but he was too late.

Derek was stock still looking at the blanket.  "You did this?" He asked quietly.

A million explanations and excuses flooded through Stiles, but nothing more powerful than the shame. Would Derek think of him differently? He hadn't just killed this man, he had given him an agonizing death. Stiles didn't think about the consequences, he didn't think about the man's pain, and he certainly didn't think about mercy. All he thought about was the fastest way to get to Derek no matter how brutal.

"I-I um, yeah. He came up behind me and I- I just reacted." Stiles' voice was small and he started chewing his lip. Maybe he could wipe his memory of the last half hour. No popcorn, they just finished the movie.  "I had to get to you." Stiles didn't like how pleading his voice sounded to his own ears and he definitely didn't know what he was asking of Derek. Please don't look at the body. Please don't be freaked out by how much I love you. Please don't be concerned with the lengths I'd go to for you. Please. Please just don't think I'm a monster.

And if he was really honest and let the most pitiful of them all have a voice, please don't love me any less for the dark things I'd do just to keep you safe.

"Oh." Derek sounded absent minded in a way he had hardly ever heard him.

His eyes were still on the blanket covered body.

"Wow." Derek spoke pushing out each letter of such a simple word in a way that made Stiles taste bile on his tongue. There were many ways in which Stiles wanted to amaze his husband, this was not one of them.

Stiles took several steps back towards the door creating space between them in case Derek didn't know how to tell him he didn't want him near anymore. "I'm sorry." Stiles held his arms against his torso knowing the warmth he'd leeched while holding onto Derek was still on his palms, and yet he felt only a chill up his spine.

Derek finally snapped back to the moment and turned to face him. "No, don't apologize. I just... all day I've been trying to keep you safe but... you never needed me." Derek sounded impressed.

The tears finally fell from Stiles' eyes. "I always need you." He confessed.

Derek stalked over and pulled him into a hug. Stiles buried himself into Derek's chest and let out a breath of relief.

"I think we have a lot to talk about." Derek said.

"Just give me a moment. I just need to hold you to know you're okay. I thought-" Stiles' words caught in his throat. "I thought they'd kill you because of me." Stiles still felt the guilt pulsing inside, but the waves lessened as he felt the warm body against him.

Derek gently carded his hands through his husband's hair to soothe him.  "Who were they?"

Stiles shrugged while wrapped in Derek's arms. "I don't know. From what Andy said it seemed like they wanted me for my magic."

"How long have you..." Derek unwrapped their limbs to look into Stiles' eyes.

"Been a glowy magical young hot Gandalf? Technically since birth, but I didn't get any of the cool magic till after my mom died."

"So the whole time" Derek nodded with a huffed laugh.

"How long have you been... Craving Scooby snacks?" He cursed internally hoping this wasn't a sore subject for Derek.

Stiles loved the soft affection that leaked out of Derek whenever he tried to roll his eyes at his snark. Derek replied, "Also since birth."

"So the whole time." Stiles laughed. "Damn I missed an opportunity to give you a squeaky toy as a wedding gift. So you're an alpha? Where's your pack?" Stiles asked.

Derek gently pinched Stiles' chin and looked lovingly into his eyes. "Right here."

Stiles looked at Derek's fond smile ready to kiss it when he noticed a smear of blood just to the left of his mouth. He swiped it with a thumb. "I doubt this would taste like cherry." He wiped it off on his ruined shirt.

Derek's lips fully upturned into a grin before he crashed their lips together. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

Stiles pulled his head back to speak to him. "But no really, where's your pack? You can't be an alpha with just one puny human that didn't even know you were a werewolf." 

"My alpha status wasn't planned. Wrong place, wrong time. I never wanted this." Derek gestured to the crispy dead body with an air of begrudging acceptance.

"How long have you been an alpha?" Stiles' tone turned mocking, "Since birth?"

Derek laughed. "Five or so years. I haven't really kept up with it. I never took a pack."

Stiles felt his stomach drop. There had been alphas that went insane without a pack in a matter of months. While Stiles would never experience it the thought made him shudder. To be so very alone only wanting someone to connect you to your life and your purpose had to have been torture. Actually, now that he thought about it maybe their experiences weren't all that different. Having power was nothing without someone to protect. Stiles rested his hand on Derek's chest above his heart. "Derek that's- that's awful. Being an alpha without a pack is a terrible way to live. You have nothing to draw from, nothing to hold you down. It would be like if I didn't have my magic. Pack is a part of being a werewolf as much as magic is a part of who I am."

Derek sighed, "Becoming an alpha was... the worst thing that could've happened to me. It took me from my family. They were my pack. I never wanted another one. But a pack can't have two alphas. It disrupts the balance." Derek spoke with such sadness.

"Then I met you. And I knew I'd never need anyone else." Derek had that look, the one that told Stiles he was genuinely happy and it made his heart flutter at the sweet words.

"You're all I need too, but Derek I don't want you to deny a part of who you are to be with me." Stiles hated that for the entire time he knew him, Derek had to hide from him. He didn't want that to be the future.

"What about you? Where's your coven?" A teasing smirk lit up Derek's face. "Am I gonna find a broomstick in one of these boxes?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open in a baldly offended look. "Do you think I'm a witch?!" Stiles pulled back from their embrace mildly upset. Druids and witches were very different things.

"Well, I don't know what you are." Derek once again gestured to Mr. McCrispy. "You're something."

Stiles had already decided to forgive him and only hold it against him occasionally. "If you ever call me a witch again I'm buying you a doghouse for out back. I'm a druid."

Derek’s expression dropped as he pulled from Stiles taking a stumbled step back. "Do-do you have an alpha?" Derek asked fear and horror blatant in his voice.

"Why would I? I already have one lug trying to tell me what to do." Stiles joked confused.

"You're an emissary though." Derek intently stared into his eyes and at his face like he was expecting a lie.

Stiles squinted at him. He had no idea what confused Derek so much. "I'm a druid... I didn't specifically say I was an emissary. Derek do you think all druids are emissaries? Because that's racist. I'm offended." This time his offended face was an act.

"All the druids I've ever met are emissaries. Only alphas really deal with them. Why aren't you an emissary?" Derek asked.

"Because it's rare for a druid not born into or raised alongside a pack to become an emissary. To be an emissary is to be trusted with the pack's lives at the highest level, most of the time equal to an alpha. It's a huge responsibility, but an even bigger trust is needed. My mom left her pack back in Poland when she came here. I know it was something that she missed and always wanted for me, but I knew it would be too difficult to find." Stiles got a bit sad anytime his mother was mentioned, but nothing made that hollow spot in his heart echo like remembering her last days when she barely remembered their names. If he was honest a bit of that echo was his magic calling out to him.

"I hope I didn't keep you from finding that. You're incredibly strong. You'd make an amazing emissary." Derek looked guilty.

"I gave all of that up when I met you. I had an opportunity out in New York. I almost left with a friend I had helped out. He's a dryad and they had just lost their druid emissary. I realized what I had with you made me happier than that ever would. Sometimes I do miss it, magic will always be a part of me-" Stiles looks down as little blue wisps whirled around his waving fingers. "But Derek, don't think for one second that I'm missing out on what's meant for me." Stiles looked at his husband and he knew every word he spoke was absolutely honest. The love he felt for Derek was like nothing else in the world to him.

"That's why he wanted you." Derek looked at the dead alpha in the hall. "You know, if you- if you wanted to be an emissary..." Derek threaded their fingers together and little blue strings began to swirl around both of their fingers.

Derek seemed nervous and it made Stiles wonder if it was from what he said or the magic still moving between them. He wondered if the chill was getting to Derek's bones yet, a normal human would've had to let go by now.

Stiles let the magic go once again and laughed. "Oh man, two seconds ago you thought all druids were emissaries. Absolutely not." Stiles squeezed his fingers hoping their warmth had returned. To his pleasure his husband's hands were as warm as they always were. How he had never realized Derek's ability to instantly warm a cold bed was supernatural Stiles would never know. "I won't say yes to that until you fully know what it means. If you get sick of me you can't just divorce an emissary. Parting from an emissary is like ripping half of your soul away."

Stiles felt that fading echo in his chest again. This time instead of thinking of the end he thought about the beginning, when the pain was loudest.

He thought about how he had gripped his bed sheets when his parents sat him down to tell him his mom was sick. Then he thought about a little bit later when she told him what he was, what they were. Memories started to resonate inside of his head. How scared she had looked when talking about her pack. How he had always wondered what they had done, done to her, and worst of all forced her to do to make her so very scared. He remembered their happy days and their sad days. He remembered overhearing her telling his dad she felt like they were being ripped from him, that her very soul was torn in two. He would never do that to Derek. He could never. She had fought off her own magic rebelling against leaving the pack as long as she could, but eventually it killed every part of her life in her that she loved. She had left her pack even though she knew what it would mean.

Just the thought of Derek leaving him and then losing himself because of it churned his stomach. He willed away the echo and banished the pain. He would always keep the memories though.

"I'd never get sick of you. Parting from you would already be like having half of my soul ripped away." Derek confessed.

"Well it's good you're stuck with me then." Stiles let go of Derek's right hand to thread their left hands together to kiss their wedding rings. "We can work towards it, but I have a feeling your emissary didn't tell you as much as they told your alp- Oh my god Derek! Oh my god!" Stiles spastically slapped Derek's chest. "Your mom is an alpha isn't she?!"

Derek looked startled. "Yes?"

"Oh my god! At Christmas? At Christmas they were all wolves?! How did I not know? This is insane! Your mom makes such a good green bean casserole and she's an alpha!"

Derek laughed. "You'll have lots to talk about next year."

"Next year? I'm getting brunch with her next week. I'm not waiting for Christmas. This is huge!"

"You're having brunch with my mom?" Derek looked offended at not being invited.

"Yes yes, they have bottomless mimosas downtown, we're going to go once a month. Not the point. Holy shit, I can't believe it! Wait, when Cora broke her leg in South America and your mom went to get her, was that werewolf shenanigans or did she really fall down a mountain hiking? Oh my god, I have got to call your mother! Actually, do you think she's still up? We could go visit."

Derek put his hands on his shoulders to ground him. "Stiles, we have two bodies we need to deal with. Let's surprise visit my mother tomorrow, yeah?" Derek spoke with a fond look.

"Oh yeah, totally. What do you think we should do with them?" Stiles looked between the bodies.

Derek looked over his shoulder towards the backdoor. "I actually have a spot already."

"What for bodies?"  Stiles snorted.

"Well, I had to do something with the one from this morning." Derek replied seriously.

Stiles smile dropped and he flung out his arms only to rest them on his hips."What do you mean the one from this morning?!" Stiles couldn't believe this.

"Remember the brother I mentioned?" Derek nodded to Andy's body.

"You killed him?!" Stiles was replaying the day and all the moments he thought his husband had acted strange. Suddenly, Derek hadn't acted strange enough with that new context.

Derek slid his arms through Stiles' while he pulled him in. "Isn't it obvious? I'd kill anyone for you."

His heart shouldn't have melted at that. Stiles was blown away with the love he felt for his husband and how their relationship changed so much and yet not at all over the course of one day. They were going to be okay. They were still going to fall asleep in each other's arms. They were still going to watch movies on the couch. They were still going to always figure things out together. They would now hide bodies together. They would now talk about the supernatural. They would now have very different Christmases. They were still going to be okay, even if they would need to start buying a suspicious amount of bleach.

After all, what was a bit of occasional murder in the shadow of domestic bliss? 

~~~

Love Is Murder

A distant thump snapped Derek's eyes open. The darkness of sleep faded into a muted gray room, the bare walls came into focus. The sun was still hiding behind the horizon. What time was it? Had he dreamt the sound? Another thump had him sitting up, his eyes scanning the mostly empty room. There was nothing but the dresser and a pile of still unpacked boxes stacked by the closet door. Had the sound come from downstairs? No. He was being paranoid. They'd barely owned the house for a week, nobody was out to get him. Yet.

Derek's eyes fell to the still-sleeping figure beside him. Soft snores escaped Stiles' full lips, his hair tousled by his pillow. He was beautiful, even like this.

Thump

That was definitely coming from downstairs. Throwing back the covers, his bare feet hit the cool wood floors.

He silently slipped on the jogging outfit he'd laid out on the top of a box labeled 'Stiles' PJs' the night before.

It was probably raccoons getting in the trash. The non-existent trash. Because they'd not even filled a single trash bag because they'd only been sleeping here for three days. He took in a breath and let it out slowly. He was being paranoid. Not everything was scary and dramatic. He had removed himself from that life. Chose not to go down that path. He chose a normal life. A quiet life. With Stiles.

Derek reached the bottom of the steps and froze. A shadow passed across the back door. Too large to be a raccoon.

Maybe it was a bear. Their property backed up to woods. It wasn't impossible. Despite his mind trying desperately to rationalize it, Derek couldn't push the fear away. What if it was hunters? What if they caught wind of him?

With a gentle click, he unlocked the back door. His heart hammering in his chest. Every muscle in his body froze as a cool breeze wafted over him, carrying with it the scent of a wolf. All apprehension melted from Derek's mind. This was no raccoon or bear, this was a threat. In his home. In his and Stiles' home.

Instinct flooded his veins. Fangs extended into his bottom lip. His fingernails lengthened into sharp claws. He would not let his old life threaten Stiles. They were happy and nothing was going to jeopardize that.

He followed the scent around the side of the house, where a figure was yanking on a closed window.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. The intruder paused, turning to face him.

Derek lunged.

A tangle of teeth and claws. This werewolf was no alpha, but he was strong. But Derek was stronger. He hooked an arm around the man's front. A sharp pain tore across Derek's forearm forcing him to release the intruder. The wolf took advantage of his freedom and bolted across the backyard. Derek gave chase. Close on his heels, he followed him to the dilapidated building at the back of their yard. With another lunge, Derek plowed into the man's back, sending them both rolling through the floor of fallen leaves.

The werewolf jumped to his feet and leapt at him. Derek grabbed an old nearby shovel that was propped against the paint-peeled wall of the shed. He swung, slamming the rusted spade into the side of the wolf's head.

A soft ping rang out into the early morning. The wolf's body hit the ground with a soft thump along with the shovel head, which was now no longer attached to the handle still in Derek's hand.

He panted, his breath fogging in short bursts. The wolf lay unmoving. His head cocked at an odd angle. The threat was gone. But now he had a body to deal with. The wound on his arm was already healing, but his blood had started to dry on his skin. He lifted the handle of the broken shovel. He couldn't bury the body with that.

Letting out a cloudy sigh, he tossed the broken handle aside. The sun peered through the treeline as it rose from its slumber. Birds greeted it in song. He had an hour or two max before Stiles would be awake.

He dragged the body around the back of the shed, out of sight. He'd have to make a run to town and get a new shovel. Following his footsteps back the way he came, a trail of his blood painted the fallen leaves. It lead to the side of the house, where a spattering of red decorated the side. He'd grab a rake too. He wiped at the blood and groaned when it smeared across the off-white, wood planks. And some paint.

Derek scanned for any other sounds or movement before heading inside to grab his keys. He paused in the kitchen. He'd wanted to finally have a real meal with Stiles. One that didn't involve cold cuts and drinks from a can. He was going to make Stiles breakfast. He'd have to settle on coffee. It was the first thing to get unpacked. He snatched a pack of sticky notes from a box labeled 'office' that hadn't made it into the other room yet.

He stared at the pad of paper. He felt bad lying to Stiles. But it was for his safety. Knowing about this world was dangerous. He scribbled a short note and turned the coffee maker on.

He turned on the sink and scrubbed away the dirt and blood from his arm. He made a list in his head of things he would need. A shovel, a rake, paint, a paintbrush, a sponge, a bucket. And peroxide. It was good for getting blood out.

He listened for any movement from upstairs. Nothing. He glanced back at the gurgling coffee maker where the note was stuck. He buried the guilt before heading out.

-

Derek pushed his cart full of supplies to the checkout. He scanned each item, mentally checking them off. Shovel, rake, paint, paintbrush—

"Derek!"

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting his husband's. His heart skipped. "Stiles...hey, what are you doing here?" he stepped around the cart, hoping to hide the basket of supplies to avoid any questions.

"Oh you know wanted to fill up the house, get some groceries for my husband. Even though he did leave me in an empty bed. There's a monster in our house that eats peanut butter-like breathing."

Derek's heart dropped. "A monster in our..." he shook his head. "Oh right." He gave a nervous laugh. Paranoid much? He thought to himself. There was no monster, Stiles was just being funny. "Sorry about that. I just wanted to get an early start. I made sure the coffee was ready though."

He stepped forward, pressing a kiss to Stiles' full lips.

"Yeah, thank you, that was really nice honey bun," Stiles said, holding his hands up in a finger guns motion.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly. They caught on a large glass candle. He plucked it from the pile of groceries in Stiles' cart. He sneered at the name. 'Sweet vanilla chai kisses'. "Really?" he shook his head, setting it back down.

"Hey, say what you want, white girls got nothing on my fall game. I got the healthy cardboard cereal you pretend to enjoy as a compromise." Stiles winked.

An affectionate smile tugged at Derek's lips. "You take such good care of me." He brushed a thumb gently along Stiles' chin. It was true, and Derek was thankful for Stiles every day.

"I'm great at this marriage thing. Hey, what are you doing here?" He glanced around Derek and into his cart. "Did you sign us up for a HGTV show I don't know about? A rake and paint? What happened to you by the way? I thought I was the one with godlike grace and agility."

Derek slid a hand into the cart, pushing the large sponge to cover the peroxide bottle, that one would be harder to explain. "I was just trying to fix up that old building for you, I know you were excited about it. And the yard could use some TLC." Derek shoved the guilt aside once again. He hated lying to Stiles, but how would he tell him he had a dead werewolf in the backyard?

Stiles moved forward, bumping the cart gently into Derek's hip. "Look at you, not so bad at this yourself, handsome. I will fight you for the Husband of the Year title, though. I was thinking of making butternut squash soup and salad for lunch, how does that sound?"

"A home-cooked meal? You win automatically. I'm headed out actually, so I'll see you at home?" Derek wanted to get rid of the body before Stiles got there.

"Okay, yeah. Before you head out, you need me to get anything for you from the store?" Stiles teased with a laugh.

Derek's eyes softened. He was so smitten. Stiles could ask him to murder everyone in the store and Derek wouldn't hesitate. "Maybe a less poisonous candle? Or are you gunning for my life insurance already?" he smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Be safe."

"You have unscented ones. And I don't need money nearly as much as I need someone to make me coffee in the morning," Stiles called over his shoulder as he turned to continue his shopping.

Derek pushed his own cart toward the counter to check out. "Oh, maybe some of that creamer with the picture of the dog dressed as a pumpkin. You know the one." Of course Stiles knew the one. Stiles knew everything about him. A nauseating tug at his stomach reminded him that he didn't know everything.

-

Hoisting the rake over one shoulder and the shovel over the other, Derek made his way toward the back of the building. He hoped the body hadn't magically disappeared in the time it took to fetch a proper shovel. He didn't know if someone would come looking for him. He didn't know anything about this guy. Why was he trying to break in? What was he after? Who sent him? These would have been good questions to ask, but Derek's mind was on one track that morning. Eliminate the threat. Now the threat was eliminated but he had no clue if more would be coming.

Stepping around the building, the body was still where he'd left it. He patted the body down, searching for some clue as to who this man was and what he wanted. There was nothing. With a grunt, Derek grabbed the ankles and drug him into the woods. The last thing he needed was a dead body buried directly on his property. His father-in-law was the sheriff after all.

It took far longer than Derek thought it would to dig the hole. He chucked the body into it and wiped at the gathering sweat on his brow. Despite the crisp autumn air, he was now drenched.

He shoveled the dirt over the body as the soft hum of Stiles' voice reached his ears. He smiled to himself. He must be cooking. His stomach rumbled in anticipation of lunch. He hadn't eaten yet. But he still had work to do. There was blood staining the side of the house. He'd need to clean that before Stiles noticed.

Swiping underbrush over the freshly turned ground, Derek listened to Stiles' humming. He followed the sound back toward the house and gathered the other supplies.

The sponge sloshed peroxide and water onto the side of the house. It only managed to smear the stain further. He would need direct peroxide. He poured it onto the sponge and scrubbed. Most of the blood wiped away but the once off-white paint was still tinted pink.

Painting over the stain was easy enough and didn't take nearly as long as burying a body. The last thing he needed to do was rake up the blood-soaked leaves.

He drug the rake over the ground, catching something black in the teeth. It was a wallet. He opened it to see his earlier attacker's face. 'Ansel Williams'. Well, now he had a name. Though not much else. Glancing up he saw Stiles in the window. He quickly dropped the wallet and drug a pile of leaves over it. He gave an awkward wave. Stiles waved back with a smile. Derek glanced down at the bloody leaves at his feet. He should throw the wallet away, but what if someone came looking for him? What if Sheriff Stilinski came by?

Derek ran a hand through his hair. He was being paranoid again. The Sheriff would have no reason to come here looking for Ansel. Raking the wallet into his pile of leaves he decided to just bury the wallet in the woods near the body. Nobody shy of a lucky coyote would find it there. He finished raking the leaves and hiding the wallet just in time to hear a voice from the house. Not a voice he recognized. Listening closely, his stomach dropped.

"You must be Stiles."

"Hi, and who are you? Do you know my husband? Do I know you?"

Derek dropped the paint can he was putting away and sprinted toward the house.

"No, not yet. But I'm hoping to be good friends with you," The man's voice said. Was that an underlying threat?

He shoved open the back door a little too hard. It knocked into a pile of unpacked boxes before slamming shut.

"You and your husband. Of course. I just wanted to meet the new neighbors."

Derek came up behind Stiles just as he responded. "Oh, do you live nearby?"

A lupine scent hit his nose, making his hackles rise.

Stepping in front of Stiles, Derek narrowed his eyes. "This is private property, what do you want?"

The man's dark brown eyes went wide. His nostrils flared. "Uh, sorry, I was just..." he took a couple steps back, his foot faltering on the top step. "It was nice meeting you."

Stiles thrust a hand out in greeting. "Oh, don't go. No, I'm sorry. This caveman with no manners is my husband." Stiles shot him a sharp glare. "Please don't mind him. We'd love to have your company. I just finished making lunch."

Derek snapped his head toward Stiles. He didn't know who this person was. He was inviting a threat in to eat with them. "I'm sure he can't stay." It was lousy as far as excuses went, but he didn't know how else to get rid of him without Stiles fussing at him for his lack of manners.

The man shook his head. "Oh, no, I—"

Stiles grabbed Derek's arm, giving it a hard squeeze. "I insist." Derek knew what that meant. He was gonna get fussed at for his lack of manners anyway.

An awkward silence hung in the air. How did he get rid of this man without telling Stiles that he was dangerous?

"Come in. What was your name?" Stiles stepped back to allow the threat inside. He made a shooing motion at Derek. Clenching his jaw, he obliged. His eyes watched the man's every move. If he was stupid enough to pull something, Derek would be ready.

"Ansel Williams," He answered, eyeing the pair carefully as he stepped inside.

Derek froze. His heart jolted. Shit. This man was looking for the dead wolf in the back.

"But you can call me Andy. I can see that your husband recognizes the name. It's very unique I know. It's odd that you don't th—"

"My name's Derek, nice to see you again." he stuck a hand out, pulling Andy's attention from Stiles. He gave a hard squeeze. "Stiles made soup. I hope you're hungry."

Andy gave him a curious look and smiled. "Famished." He followed Stiles with a newfound confidence.

-

The tension at the table was palpable as Stiles grabbed the plate of rolls and handed them to Andy. "So what kind of special assets does your company acquire?" he asked.

Andy took another roll, dipping it in the remains of his soup. "Well, it depends. Though we really go after the more coveted and unique people."

"Oh, so you're a headhunter?" Stiles sounded interested. It wasn't his fault he didn't know about the threat this man posed, but Derek hated how friendly he was.

Andy swallowed his bite of bread and smirked. "Something like that."

Derek continued to glare. He'd been glaring at this man through all of lunch. Everything out of this man's mouth was a lie. Other than the part about going after coveted and unique people. That was true. But what was it about Derek that was so coveted or unique? Nothing that he knew of. Unless it was because of his bloodline. The name Hale was well known, but to warrant a multi-attack? It didn't make sense.

"What do you guys do?" Andy asked, gesturing between the pair with his half-eaten roll.

"Well, I'm an online web designer so I work from home," Stiles answered.

Derek didn't respond. Why did he want to know what they did?

"And my wonderful husband is a basketball coach at the high school. The kids absolutely love him. He's so good with them. So much better than he is with adults sometimes." Stiles gave him a pointed look, patting his hand sternly. Derek could hear the reprimands that would come later.

"How very domestic." Andy smirked. His eyes were on Derek. He was taunting him. Derek wanted to rip this guy's throat out. But first, he wanted him out of his damn house and away from Stiles.

"It's a very rewarding job," he grumbled, hoping his response would appease Stiles enough.

"He's really very good. He took the kids to state last year. Honey, you should go show him the photo in the garage and your trophies. I have to go get dessert ready anyway." Stiles pushed away from the table. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Derek's temple. "Be nice and make friends," he muttered.

Derek gave a forced smile as Stiles squeezed his shoulder firmly. "Dessert will be just five minutes."

Derek waited for Stiles to leave the dining room before narrowing his eyes and gesturing toward the garage door. "Follow me."

Andy silently did as he was told. Despite his confident posture, he smelled nervous. Good.

Derek shoved Andy through the garage door almost sending him into a pile of unpacked boxes labeled basketball trophies. With a hushed whisper, he demanded, "What do you want?"

Andy whirled, squaring up with a false sense of confidence. "I want to know where Ansel is."

"Not here."

"But he was."

Derek took a menacing step forward. "What. Do. You. Want?"

Andy gave a smug smirk. "Ya know, that husband of yours sure is something."

Derek's arm snapped out and grabbed him by the throat, claws extending into his flesh, making Andy wince. His eyes flared red.

All color drained from Andy's face. "You're an alpha."

Derek's brows furrowed. He didn't know he was an alpha? Then what did he want?

The moment of hesitation was enough for Andy to throw his elbow into the crook of Derek's arm, making his grip falter just enough for him to yank away.

He slammed his hand into the garage door opener.

Derek lunged but Andy was already rolling under the opening door.

"Damn it," he swore. He started after him, but the door to the house opened, halting him in place.

Stiles stood in the doorway, a confused look on his face. "The pie is ready. Where'd Andy go?" He craned his neck as if to spot their guest. "You didn't murder him did you?" he joked.

Derek walked over to him, stepping in his line of sight. He huffed a laugh. "He had to go, wife called," he lied, hoping Stiles believed him.

As he got closer he saw a smudge of red on his lower lip. He reached out, swiping his thumb across it. He licked at the sticky substance and hummed, "Mmm, cherry?"

"Yeah... It is..." Stiles answered, but his tone was hesitant, like he was trying to put the pieces of something together. Something he would never be able to piece together because he was missing vital parts of the puzzle. Once again a twist of guilt wrenched Derek's stomach, churning his lunch.

He reached past Stiles, sending the large garage door rattling back down and forcing Stiles to step back into the house. Giving a sweet smile he gestured inside,"Shall we?"

-

The pile of boxes in the living room was less scary when he needed them as a distraction to avoid the questions from his husband. Stiles was obviously upset about Derek's behavior at lunch, but he didn't have a good answer. What could he say? The man was a werewolf come to kill him? He didn't even know if that was true. Andy had been less than willing to explain what he wanted.

He yanked open a box, digging through cords and surge protectors. How was he supposed to enjoy watching a movie when a threat was looming in the distance? Surely Andy would be back. He hadn't gotten what he wanted. Had he? What if what he wanted was information? Stiles had been more than willing to tell him all about them.

Pushing the box away, he yanked open another one, tearing it in his frustration. He plucked the DVDs, setting them neatly in the new entertainment center he and Stiles had picked out last week. It gave him pause. It was new. The house was new. How had they found him here? They'd barely lived there three days.

Derek replayed the brief conversation he had with Andy in the garage. He had been surprised when he saw Derek's eyes. He hadn't expected him to be an alpha. But that wasn't new. He'd been an alpha for years. Well before he met Stiles.

He could hear the hostile clank of dishes in the sink. It rang through his ears like an alarm. He was in trouble. He needed a lie. One that Stiles would believe.

Derek was knelt in front of the entertainment center, dvd's in either hand when Stiles stormed into the living room. "We're going to talk about how lunch went, and how you know Andy. Also, don't try to make me think it isn't a big deal. You don't normally act like that. And don't you dare try and tell me it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you Derek Hale-Stilinski and that lunch was not you and you shutting me out and not talking to me definitely isn't you..." Stiles sucked in a breath and waited a moment before gesturing to Derek. "Okay, I'm done now you can speak."

Derek sighed, setting the DVD's in his hands on the entertainment center. He pushed to his feet. Lying to Stiles when he was already suspicious wouldn't help matters. So maybe he could just be vague. "I had an unpleasant run-in with his brother." Not technically a lie.

Squinting at Derek, with his hands on his hips, Stiles asked, "How unpleasant? Do I need to go over there with the rest of the pie laced with laxatives, or poison?"

Derek couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. He huffed a laugh, wrapping his arms around Stiles' waist to pull him in. "No, I was being an ass. I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry. I promise to behave in the future."

Stiles melted into him and sighed in relief. "I like when you misbehave. I don't like when I feel far from you. Next time just slam the door in his face and tell me why we don't like them now." He nuzzled into Derek's chest.

Closing his eyes in a wince, Derek pushed away the guilt. How easy it was for Stiles to take him at his word. It made his chest clench. "Deal," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I found the DVDs. Pick one while I shower."

-

Derek was tucked under Stiles' arm, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly along his knee. Captain America played on the TV across from them. It was one of Derek's favorite places to be. Curled up with Stiles. He only wished he could fully relax. Despite his comfortable state, his mind was anywhere but the scene on the screen in front of him. His ears were perked like a dog waiting on an intruder. Is that what he was reducing himself to? Stiles' guard dog? That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a quiet life with his husband.

A gentle clunk made his heart leap. Was that upstairs? It couldn't have been the movie. This scene was too calm. Another softer thud had him sitting up suddenly. Stiles gave him a sleepy, confused look.

"We should make popcorn. I think the box with the popcorn maker got put upstairs. I'll grab it. You don't have to pause it." He said giving Stiles' knee a gentle squeeze before standing.

"I was just about to fall asleep, that's perfect. Popcorn will keep me awake. Do you want help?" Stiles offered, though Derek knew it was an empty offer, he always made the popcorn. Stiles got too comfortable and hated moving once the movie was going. Sure enough, he tucked himself further under the sherpa blanket as Derek rounded the couch. His keen hearing honed in on the obvious shuffling upstairs.

"No, I've got it. Keep the couch warm for me," he called over from the bottom of the stairs. Derek's patience for today was waning. He was going to rip apart whoever was stupid enough to break into his house. He hoped it was Andy.

The steps whined under his bare feet as he stalked to the top. His nostrils flared, searching for a foreign scent. He paused when a shadow crossed the floor of his bedroom. His claws extended. He expected the familiar smell of Andy to reach his nose, but it was someone new. Another wolf. A low growl escaped his throat. He was tired of people trying to break into his house. What did they want?

Derek stepped into the room to see a man by his, once locked, bedroom window. He stood tall, with dark hair, and olive skin. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"Took you long enough," The man said. His husky tone was almost bored as he leaned against the wall. He looked too comfortable.

"Let me guess, friend of Ansel?" Derek growled back.

"You know, I was disappointed when he didn't return. He was a good one. I'm guessing he's dead?"

"He wouldn't have been if he hadn't tried to break into my house." Derek glanced at the broken lock of the window.

"Right, about that. It was nothing personal, just business." The man smirked.

Derek's fangs dropped. "Nothing personal?" he scoffed. "What do you want?" he was going to get his answers before he killed this one, and he wasn't letting him get away.

"Well, not you." The man waved a disinterested hand as he pushed off the wall.

Derek's eyes narrowed.

"Surely you didn't think you were of interest? Frankly, I didn't even know he was married, much less to a werewolf."

Derek's blood ran cold. They were after Stiles. Before he could even register what he was doing, he had crossed the room. His eyes bled red as he closed the distance between them.

A brief expression of fear flitted across the man's face before his own eyes flared a dark crimson. So this was the alpha. Derek would be damned if he let anyone hurt Stiles.

Derek's claws dug into soft flesh. The lamp on their dresser shattered into pieces as the alpha's face smashed into it. Derek held his head against the top of the dresser, blood seeping onto the dark wood.

"If you even so much as think about hurting him—" Derek's words were cut off by a pair of claws raking across his gut. He stumbled back. Before he could regain himself, he was being tackled. He and the alpha tumbled into a pile of boxes, crushing them under their weight. Hastily folded clothes and blankets spilled out around them. Derek rolled to his feet and sank his claws into the man's ribcage, who snarled in pain. He was about to go in for a blow to the throat when he heard a cry of anguish from downstairs. Stiles.

Panic spiked through him. No. No. No. No. He should have known this was a distraction. Why else would they break in upstairs? He spun away from the alpha, his only goal now, to get to Stiles. A heavy thump had Derek scrambling down the steps in record timing. He almost didn't want to see what was waiting for him. Stiles' dead body? He couldn't bear it. He hopped the banister, not bothering with the last few steps. He needed to get to him. He landed in the foyer that opened to the living room, his claws and fangs still out on full display.

He barely got three steps forward before Stiles was skidding to a halt in front of him, his eyes wide.

"You're a werewolf?!" he exclaimed.

Relief and dread washed over Derek. Relief because Stiles was alive. Dread because Stiles now saw a side of him that he'd never wanted him to see.

A thud and snarl behind him had him spinning on his heels. There was still a threat. The alpha. He had to protect Stiles. Before he could strike, though, the small table that housed their one and only plant tipped. The vines of the Pothos Lydia had gifted them, whipped out and curled around the alpha's arms and legs. They climbed him, winding around his throat like a choke collar on a Doberman.

Blood poured from his ears and eyes as the vines punctured them. He let out a pained cry. It was choked off by green spilling from his open mouth. His face stretched like an Edvard Munch painting.

Derek took a stumbled step back as if he were afraid the vines would come for him next. The alpha dropped to his knees and crumpled to the floor. The green of the plant drained, leaving darkened vines and shriveled leaves draped over the now-dead alpha.

Derek's claws and fangs retracted as he spun back to Stiles, whose eyes faded from a vibrant glowing green. His hand was outstretched like Darth Vader. He lowered it, a panicked look on his face.

Derek blinked at his husband. His magical husband. "You have Magic?!" how had he not known? Before he could press further, his eyes fell to the spreading stain on Stiles' shredded blue shirt. The sharp smell of copper hit his nose. His stomach sank.

"You're hurt." He reached out, desperate to see how bad the injury was. But the look on Stiles' face made him unsure. God how he hated being unsure with Stiles. Was he afraid of him? Disgusted by him? He paused his outstretched hand.

Stiles looked down at himself as if inspecting the wound. "I'll be fine, really. It's actually helpful that you're a werewolf," he gave a weak laugh. His expression remained unsure, his eyes almost timid. "Can I touch you?"

Derek's heart cracked. Stiles never hesitated to reach out. Were things really so different now? Did this change how he felt about him? Fear crushed him. He wasn't ready to lose Stiles.

"Please," he whispered desperately. He needed to feel his husband.

Stiles gave a small smile, his eyes filling with tears. Despite the permission, he still acted as though he were afraid of Derek, slowly extending his hands and gently clasping his forearms.

"This shouldn't hurt at all. I'm just borrowing your ability to heal."

Derek didn't care if it killed him so long as Stiles was okay. Relief wafted from Stiles as golden light climbed through Derek's arms and to Stiles'.

"Take what you need." His eyes glanced passed Stiles toward the living room, where Stiles had been coming from before. What had happened? Someone had hurt Stiles. The scent of Ozone painted the air.

Stiles' grip on his arms loosened. Derek pushed past him, his eyes scanning for the other threat. "Who hurt you?" There was no evidence that anything had happened at all. Did they run away? Were they hiding? Waiting to pounce again?

He followed the scent into the living room. Stiles blew past him and yanked the blanket from the couch to cover a body. But it was too late. Derek saw the body lying three or four feet from the kitchen door. There was no way to tell who this figure was by the way the body was shriveled and fried. It resembled the plant that lay dead in their foyer. But the smell in the air gave away his identity. Andy.

Derek gaped at the blanket. He knew what magic could do, but this was beyond anything he'd ever seen. "You did this?" he asked, almost not believing that his sweet, adorable, spastic, husband was capable of such power.

"I-I um, yeah," Stiles answered sheepishly. "He came up behind me and I-I just reacted." He chewed on his bottom lip. "I had to get to you."

Pride swelled in Derek. His eyes didn't leave the blanket-covered body. "Oh. Wow," he breathed. Stiles was incredible. He'd always known it but this... this was unbelievable.

"I'm sorry." Stiles' quiet tone made Derek whirl around to where Stiles had retreated toward the door. His arms crossed over his chest in an anxious, protective manner.

"No, don't apologize. I just... all day I've been trying to keep you safe but... you never needed me." It was a painful realization just as much as it was a proud one.

A tear slipped from Stiles' eyes. "I always need you."

The sight of tears erased any reservation Derek had about touching Stiles. He crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug. Relief flooded him when Stiles didn't shy away, but instead nuzzled into him. He didn't think he could handle if he was afraid of him. It felt so good to hold him.

"I think we have a lot to talk about," he said.

"Just give me a moment. I just need to hold you to know you're okay. I thought—" The words caught in his throat. "I thought they'd kill you because of me."

Had Stiles known them? He pet the top of his head, hoping to comfort him. "Who were they?"

Stiles shrugged into the hug. "I don't know. From what Andy said it seemed like they wanted me for my magic."

"How long have you..." Derek pulled back to meet Stiles' eyes. Surely this wasn't a new thing. He was too powerful for it to be new.

"Been a glowy, magical, young, hot, Gandalf?" he teased. "Technically since birth, but I didn't get any of the cool magic till after my mom died."

"So the whole time." Derek nodded and huffed a laugh.

"How long have you been... craving Scooby snacks?"

Derek gave an affectionate eye roll. "Also since birth."

"So the whole time," Stiles laughed.

How much stress and guilt could have been avoided if they'd just been honest from the beginning?

"Damn, I missed an opportunity to give you a squeaky toy as a wedding gift." Stiles teased again. "So you're an alpha? Where's your pack?" he asked.

Derek's eyes softened. He pinched Stiles' chin gently between his thumb and index finger. "Right here."

Stiles reached up, swiping a thumb at the corner of Derek's mouth. "I doubt this would taste like cherry." There was a smear of blood. He wiped it on his already-stained shirt.

Derek smiled and surged forward. Their lips crashed together. Not ten minutes ago, he feared he'd never get to experience this feeling again.

When they pulled back, they pressed their foreheads together. Derek breathed in Stiles' scent. It was a comforting one. One that now that he knew, was layered with a certain arcane spice. How had he not noticed before? Perhaps, it was true what they said, ignorance was bliss.

The space between them doubled as Stiles pulled back. His eyes searched Derek's. "But no really, where's your pack? You can't be an alpha with just one puny human that didn't even know you were a werewolf."

Derek tried not to wince. He had wondered when Stiles would press about his werewolf status. It was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to. "My alpha status wasn't planned. Wrong place, wrong time. I never wanted this." He gestured to the dead body under the blanket. They would not be putting that back on the couch. Too bad, it was a nice blanket.

"How long have you been an alpha?" Stiles' tone shifted from curious to mocking. "Since birth?"

Derek huffed a laugh. "Five or so years. I haven't really kept up with it. I never took a pack." He'd considered it briefly. But the idea of not being part of his mother's pack had been too hard. He'd rejected the idea completely. It felt too much like a betrayal. A desperate attempt to save a young girl had turned into a police investigation and red eyes in the mirror.

Stiles' brows pinched into a sympathetic frown. He placed a hand on Derek's chest, like he was trying to guard his heart. "Derek that- that's awful. Being an alpha without a pack is a terrible way to live. You have nothing to draw from, nothing to hold you down. It would be like if I didn't have my magic. Pack is a part of being a werewolf as much as magic is a part of who I am."

Derek sighed. He had never imagined having this conversation with Stiles. He had hoped to never have to. But it seemed like this was the trajectory of his life. His mother had warned him that he couldn't escape it. He had thought he proved her wrong.

"Becoming an alpha was... the worst thing that could happen to me. It took me from my family. They were my pack. I never wanted another one. But a pack can't have two alphas. It disrupts the balance." He stared into Stiles' honey-colored eyes. "Then I met you. And I knew I'd never need anyone else."

"You're all I need too, but Derek I don't want you to deny a part of who you are to be with me."

Derek would deny any part of him if it let him be with Stiles. But he knew well enough not to say as much. Instead, he asked. "What about you? Where's your coven? Am I gonna find a broomstick in one of these boxes?" he gave a teasing smirk.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "Do you think I'm a witch?!" he stepped back like Derek had struck him.

"Well, I don't know what you are." He gestured to the covered body again. "You're something."

"If you ever call me a witch again, I'm buying you a doghouse for out back. I'm a druid."

Those words struck Derek like a knife to the heart. A druid? No. He couldn't be. The room shifted around him. Or maybe it was just his entire life. His balance faltered, forcing him to take a stumbled step back. "Do-do you have an alpha?" Surely not. He would have smelled him. Unless he used his magic to hide him. The thought of smelling another alpha on Stiles was almost enough to make his wolf surface.

"Why would I? I already have one lug trying to tell me what to do." Stiles' tone was still light, teasing. But Derek's stomach was in knots as he listened for a lie. An emissary protected their alpha with their life. Stiles would be fully in his right to keep it from Derek. But he hoped he wouldn't. He hoped there was more respect and trust between them.

"You're an emissary though." His eyes continued to search Stiles' expression for any clue. If he had an alpha that would be almost as bad as finding out he had another husband.

Stiles squinted at him. A tell tale sign that he was being an idiot. "I'm a druid... I didn't specifically say I was an emissary. Derek, do you think all druids are emissaries? Because that's racist. I'm offended." He sneered in mock offense.

Derek blinked. "All the druids I've ever met are emissaries." Maybe Stiles didn't have an alpha after all. "Only alphas really deal with them. Why aren't you an emissary?" he tried to keep the hopefulness out of his tone.

"Because it's rare for a druid not born into or raised alongside a pack to become an emissary. To be an emissary is to be trusted with the pack's lives at the highest level, most of the time equal to an alpha. It's a huge responsibility, but an even bigger trust is needed. My mom left her pack back in Poland when she came here. I know it was something that she missed and always wanted for me, but I knew it would be too difficult to find."

The worry and fear drained from Derek. There was no one else. He almost felt guilty for being relieved. Poor Stiles had never known the love and safety of a pack. The alpha in him wanted to give that to Stiles more than anything. A sinking feeling dug into the pit of his stomach. "I hope I didn't keep you from finding that. You're incredibly strong. You'd make an amazing emissary."

"I gave all of that up when I met you. I had an opportunity out in New York. I almost left with a friend I had helped. He's a dryad and they had just lost their druid emissary. I realized what I had with you made me happier than that ever would. Sometimes I do miss it. Magic will always be a part of me." Stiles glanced down at his left hand and blue swirls of magic twisted between his fingers like a magician rolling a coin. "But Derek, don't think for one second that I'm missing out on what's meant for me."

"That's why he wanted you." Derek looked over at the dead alpha still in their hall. "You know, if you-if you wanted to be an emissary..." he trailed off. It was a scary thing to even consider, but he'd do anything for Stiles, even embracing this life. He stepped in, closing some of the distance between them, and threaded their fingers together. It was like sticking his hand into a frozen lake. Ice cold to the point it was almost painful. Almost. The blue swirled around their hands for just a moment before dispersing.

Stiles laughed. "Oh man, two seconds ago you thought all druids were emissaries. Absolutely not." Stiles squeezed his fingers.

Derek tried not to wince. It was hard not to take that rejection hard. But he understood. It wasn't something you did on a whim.

"I won't say yes to that until you fully know what it means. If you get sick of me you can't just divorce an emissary. Parting from an emissary is like ripping half of your soul away."

Derek fought to not scoff at Stiles' words. "I'd never get sick of you. Parting from you would already be like having half of my soul ripped away."

"Well, it's good you're stuck with me then." Stiles let go of Derek's right hand and threaded their left hands together before leaning in and pressing a kiss to where their wedding rings touched. "We can work towards it, but I have a feeling your emissary didn't tell you as much as they told your alp- Oh my god, Derek! Oh my god!" Stiles slapped at Derek's chest like he just realized something major. "Your mom is an alpha isn't she?!"

Derek was still reeling from his emotional whiplash of being rejected, before being told they'd work towards it to now being assaulted with questions about his mom. "Yes?" he frowned.

"Oh my god! At Christmas? At Christmas, they were all wolves?! How did I not know? This is insane! Your mom makes such a good green bean casserole and she's an alpha!"

Derek couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in him. God, Stiles was so endearing. "You'll have lots to talk about next year."

"Next year? I'm getting brunch with her next week. I'm not waiting for Christmas. This is huge!"

Panic briefly gripped Derek as it always did whenever Stiles interacted with his family. But it didn't have time to settle. There was nothing to fear any longer. No huge, life-altering secret to scare Stiles off. It was out in the open now. Stiles could have brunch with his mother every day— wait. "You're having brunch with my mom?" why had he not been invited? Why didn't he even know about it?

"Yes, yes, they have bottomless mimosas downtown. We're going to go once a month. Not the point. Holy shit I can't believe it! Wait, when Cora broke her leg in South America and your mom went to get her was that werewolf shenanigans, or did she really fall down a mountain hiking? Oh my god, I have got to call your mother! Actually, do you think she's still up? We could go visit."

Derek put his hands on Stiles' shoulders. He loved that he was so eager to talk to his mother. It had always warmed his heart how much they loved him and how much he seemed to love them. But right now wasn't the time. "Stiles, we have two bodies we need to deal with. Let's surprise visit my mother tomorrow, yeah?" he couldn't help the fond look in his eyes as he met Stiles'.

"Oh, yeah, totally. What do you think we should do with them?" Stiles' eyes darted between the two dead wolves.

Derek glanced over his shoulder toward the back door. "I actually have a spot already."

"What for bodies?" Stiles snorted, like the notion was an absurd one. Never mind the fact that they had two dead bodies to contend with.

"Well, I had to do something with the one from this morning."

Stiles' smile dropped and his arms flung out before settling on his hips. "What do you mean the one from this morning?!"

"Remember the brother I mentioned?" He nodded toward Andy's body.

"You killed him!?"

Derek's brows rose. The shock on his face was just as much insulting as it was endearing. He stepped forward, sliding his arms through Stiles', and pulled him in so they were chest to chest. He had no idea the lengths Derek would go to to protect him. There was no one more important to him. He met Stiles' eyes. They danced like ice in a glass of whiskey. He smiled, "Isn't it obvious? I'd kill anyone for you."

[cowardsexual]

rogy :]

[ismenes]

you know those studies showing that cursing helps with pain tolerance or whatever. that’s how i feel about making my weird little noises to get through my basic daily activities. sometimes you just have to go hggblaaaah for a minute so you can find the strength within yourself to get up or wash the dishes or send an email. mmmnneh. urgh. the torments are unending but you can always make some little sounds about it.

[were--ralph]

the problem with tumblr spells is all of you lil sluts are casting and not giving it time to charge so you're all casting cantrips and not 9th level death spells. everyone wants to be the one to take them down no one wants to be the one who assists

[were--ralph]

we're going to try again witha little but minimal casting

IT will happen in August of 2026. like to charge and reblog to cast but cast sparingly

[were--ralph]

Wait stop. everyone +like now and spread it a little but cast on the same day in August. lets try August 6th or something.

[were--ralph]

CAST NOW!!!

CAST MORE

[supine-ly]

In honor of castiel’s detective arc when he was hunting angels

[wheup]

I love the idea of Rocky building the xenonite suit a few months after they get to Erid and going up to visit Grace in orbit as a surprise and he goes through this awful perpetually guilty scary triggering learning curve of figuring out how much strength he can safely use on which parts of the ship and Grace, and he's constantly apologising and hovering when he accidentally presses too hard, and all through this Grace (touch-starved, delirious, suffering zoochosis, dangerously understimulated), is trying to find a way to ask if Rocky can break a few of his bones without being put on alien suicide watch.

[deadgravity]

Rocky is a cutthroat bitch, statement.

[conspiracy-frog]

What if Erid invented intergalactic fast travel

I don't support Eva bashing that's emotional support environmental terrorist right there. What I'm interested in is the bad pr she is giving earth because the eridian ambassador is too invested in his flesh teddy bears life

[cosmichorrorbarbie]

everyone be niceys to him or she’ll blow this whole antarctica up

[alexxuun]

Grace think fondly of his scar if you even care.

[sandmandaddy69]

[starrose17]

He's literally doing this:

[oshacompliantmagicalgirl]

[wavezies]

things in phm that really tickled me as a marine biologist:

the concept of star-eating microbes causing a crisis and the solution being the introduction of space wolves to space yellowstone to control the space elk population. i love a good trophic cascade

dr ryland grace immediately pitching "turn the spaceship into a giant centrifuge to generate gravity" and then not balancing his actual centrifuge later on

the entire "life is reason" scene really

grace forgetting to open the mystery alien container in a fume hood AND immediately sticking his nose in it. if we did this in chemistry lab we were executed on the spot

academia drama being one of the cornerstones of grace's character

grace switching through every spectrum setting on the microscope to try to see into the astrophages and not being able to (relatable)

also: the astrophage dying and grace going "ohhh it died..." (very relatable)

grace having his not-scientist buddy Carl to give him frank solutions when he's overthinking. yes, often the solution is just to put the box in another box

copious duct tape usage

just sticking a filter into the path of the petrova line to collect astrophage goop

eva going "so it's alive" when grace tells them the astrophage are moving, and him being like "WELL ok that could be for a lot of reasons" in the tone of someone who doesn't even know where to start explaining why that's a hasty assumption

grace referring to the first new astrophage as his and carl's baby multiple times (HIGHLY relatable)

humanity's greatest hope being a teacher. humanity being saved by grace's ability to find novel ways to communicate well with others -- something that made him excellent as an educator, and enabled him to bond with rocky

[wolfythewitch]

furthest we've ever been

[autumngracy]

Saw this twitter post and instantly started looking for pictures of Stratt to use it with

[berrytart]

okay yeah i do think your filler is off putting and your botox makes you rigid and strange to look at

[tomatoinyourgarden]

I know you think it’s “feminist” to hate on women who already have self esteem and image issues (through no fault of their own, as a direct result of patriarchy) for doing something to help them cope with their fleeting youth - which may or may not have been stripped from them against their will due to years of depression, abuse, oppression, or whatever else - but the truth is that the freedom to get Botox is actually a right feminists have fought for - whether intentionally or unintentionally. Women used to get thrown away when we outlived our youth and beauty - now we have the option to prolong it and change the way we are perceived and treated by society as a whole. We ALL had to grow up too fast. We ALL have to cope with a childhood that ended too soon. I’m no less a feminist than you are simply because I choose to hold onto my youth and beauty because it helps me feel better about my own loss of innocence. This is all just another excuse to hate on women and tear us down. You’re literally letting the patriarchy win by judging women for their personal choices which harm absolutely no one. Please grow up. Not everyone is conventionally attractive or ages gracefully. Some women can cope with that and some can’t. Both deserve love and respect. Have some decency. You’re not edgy for this. You’re hating just like a man would.

[berrytart]

Feminists … have fought… for the right … to use Botox…..