for @sterekdrabbles 25/01/23 challenge. the prompt words were: SOFT, MARK and MARCH.
tags: angst, kidnapping, unsafe driving.
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90mph...
Stiles has been taken. The Camaro cannot go fast enough.
The silent march of time is deafening. Derek wants to cover his ears, howl and drown it out.
He thinks back to this morning.
Soft watercolour light painting ivory skin in lemony hues; that snub nose twitching like firefly wings; beard dragging lazily up pinked cheeks; he kid, still mostly sleeping, wrapping noodle limbs around him, and he's home.
100mph…
He might throw up. Or fully shift, right now while still driving.
If Derek left a map lying on the kitchen table in the loft, right in the spot where Stiles often did his homework, well, that was just asking for it. Derek called it a training exercise for the Betas, Stiles just heard "pack camping trip"; and he wasn't gonna pass up on that, even though he technically wasn't invited.
Stiles hoisted his backpack further up his shoulders, making the sleeping mat that dangled underneath it bounce against his ass. He was regretting putting on jeans this morning, though it wasn't like he had a pair of those sensible outdoor pants in his drawers. You know, the ones with a gazillion pockets and pant legs that could zip off at various lengths. Yet between his joggers, basketball shorts and jeans, the latter were the most sensible option for a trek in the woods. At least he had a pair of his father's old work boots on instead of his Converses. They shared the same shoe size now, wasn't that a hoot? He peered at the navigation app on his phone. He should be getting close now, but first he needed a toilet break. Drinking all that water to keep himself hydrated had certain expected side effects, perks of a functional human body and all. He looked around him, meaning to find a tree a little ways off the path to conduct his business. Except, who was he kidding? He left the last thing remotely close to a path over an hour ago, stomping through the undergrowth and relying on the compass app on his phone ever since.
"Guess you're it, buddy," he mumbled to a sturdy looking oak tree to his right. The sound of his zipper was soon followed by a relieved sigh and Stiles let his head fall back in momentary bliss. He let it hang back with a somewhat confused frown when he noticed the garbage bag stuffed between two branches high above his head. "Huh. Some people really go out of their way to dump their garbage. Seems counterproductive."
Now, Stiles was all for preserving nature, especially, you know, in The Preserve, but scaling a forty ft tree to get a plastic bag full of unknown waste down was not in his Junior Scout job description. The sheriff hadn't mentioned any gruesome murders or missing body parts recently, so Stiles readily assumed the garbage bag was filled with, you know, garbage. Not any of his business then.
About thirty to forty minutes later he found the little clearing that was flanked by a clear stream on one side and a wide overhang of jagged rock on the other. This should be it. Looks like he was the first.
His back was grateful for it when he let the heavy backpack slide to the ground. Stiles watched the stream longingly, but shook his head. If he took his shoes off now and would sit down, nothing would get done anymore. Before he could change his mind he pulled the bag with his tent loose from the bindings on his backpack and zipped it open. The grey coloured igloo had housed many sleepovers in the backyard, back when him and Scott were so small they could lay down in every direction and still not touch the tent canvas. That was not gonna happen now. "I remember you being bigger," he said accusingly to the small igloo when it was put up.
Whatever. The canvas still looked decent and it would most certainly beat sleeping on the forest floor. He tossed his backpack and sleeping mat inside and then it was finally time to kick back and relax.
A hot, wet breath fanned his face. Stiles scrunched up his nose when a heavy huff blew air up his nostrils. He registered the growl at the same time as something hot, wet and slimy hit his cheek, only an inch away from the corner of his mouth.
It spoke volumes about his self preservation instincts - currently severely lacking - that he wiped a hand across his cheek without opening his eyes and complained: "Dude, did you just drool on me? That's so gross!"
Strong jaws snapped only inches from his face and the next growl was louder, becoming more of a snarl. "Eww, bunny breath," Stiles gagged, turning his face to the side and pushing his hands up against the mass of muscle and fur above him. Ignoring the building menacing growl he pushed through the fur until his hands were at the creature's jowls. He pushed up, revealing even more of the unnaturally large canines. "Smile, Sourwolf!"
To be fair, his heart did make a clumsy mess of the next few beats as the beast roared in his face. Stiles was fairly sure nowadays - like 85 % on a good day - that Derek didn't want to kill him. That didn't mean the Alpha didn't scare the bejeebers out of him when he was angry with Stiles. Annoyed, that was a familiar emotion; Stiles annoyed the crap out of Derek on a daily basis. Real anger was of a less regular occurrence.
Stiles scrambled backwards, pulling himself from between the enormous wolf's legs, where it had been hovering over him at his napping spot next to the stream. Derek snarled at him, though he didn't make a move to further attack the boy in front of him. Derek had impressive eyebrow action in human form, yet his disapproving face in wolf form was equally expressive. A nagging feeling of doubt crept up on Stiles, making him feel like crashing the camping trip of Derek and his Betas was a bad idea. If you could call it a camping trip if you ran into the woods half naked or clad in fur, with nothing else on you. At least Stiles brought s'mores, that should count for something, right?
A plastic bag hit him hard in the shoulder, making him stumble from his recently acquired upright position. "Why the fuck does my sleeping bag smell like your pee?" Jackson snarled at him, his face still half scaly and his eyes yellow.
"What?" Stiles stared between Jackson and the bag that lay at his feet.
Behind Jackson, Isaac and Scott walked into the clearing, both carrying similar plastic bags. Only Scott's was dripping wet. "Mine fell in the stream when I went to retrieve it," he complained at nobody in particular, before locking onto Stiles. "Stiles! You came!"
The last of his wolfy features disappeared when he threw his arm around his friend's shoulders. "Good thing you're here! But..." Scott's happy face became puzzled. "How did you get here? You... You can't smell this place out. Did you follow us?"
"He got here before us , pea brain," Jackson scowled. "Had the time to pee all over the place too."
Stiles now recognised the bag that was still lying next to him from where he saw it high up a tree earlier. "Just thought I'd make it easier for you to find," he smirked. "Didn't want to make you hurt your lizard brain looking for it."
Jackson started for him, but Derek casually walked between them, still doing up the buttons of his jeans. "Cut it out," he said in his regular flat tone.
Not long after they were joined by Boyd and Erica, already dressed in the clothes that were apparently in the plastic bags, next to a sleeping bag for each wolf. It seemed Derek didn't want them to tough it out tonight; Stiles was pleasantly surprised.
"How'd you know where we would be?" Scott asked when they were sitting side by side with their feet in the stream a little while later. The guy could be doggedly determined to stay on topic.
"I made an educated guess," Stiles shrugged.
"You mean you stalked Derek," Erica added from her spot a little ways over.
Stiles did no such thing. He was just observant when it came to the Alpha and his preparations. With Derek's known poor planning skills, somebody had to keep an eye on things. He smiled and decided on: "Semantics."
If Derek left a map lying on the kitchen table in the loft, right in the spot where Stiles often did his homework, well, that was just asking for it. Derek called it a training exercise for the Betas, Stiles just heard "pack camping trip"; and he wasn't gonna pass up on that, even though he technically wasn't invited.
Scott was determined to find out how Stiles got to the clearing, only to exclaim: "You walked straight through mountain lion territory!"
"Pssh, there are no mountain loonstrook in The Preserve," Stiles scoffed. "Just because those police reports say there are animal attacks, you shouldn't believe that, Scotty."
"There really are mountain lions around," Scott persisted. "I smelled them!"
Before Stiles could open his mouth, Derek spoke up from behind them. "One male, two females. One of them with a cub. And your trail cut straight through their territory."
Stiles swallowed thickly. He had a lot of experience in interpreting the set of Derek's eyebrows - the things had their own language, which came in handy because Derek tended to come up a little short conversation wise - and right now he could read anger. Yet it was the kind of anger that stemmed from worry, a type he was intimately familiar with when coming from his dad. It was still relatively new when coming from Derek. Although Stiles had to admit he encountered it before, particularly when he brought his bat and his fragile human bones to a fight where he was told - no, ordered - to stay away from. Unfortunately for Derek his Alpha voice did not have quite the same effect on Stiles as it had on his Betas; the commands did not take root, so to speak.
However, a mountain lion mother and her young cub were reason enough for justified anger on Derek's side. Animals with young were dangerous, and Stiles apparently trampled right through their forest home without a care in the world.
"If you picked up my trail, you were there too. Mama mountain lion could have attacked you too." Ah, there was the famous foot-in-mouth syndrome.
Derek scowled at him. "I'm an Alpha werewolf."
Stiles blinked at him. "What? So you scared them away? You drove a mother and child from their home?"
Derek's scowl deepened, accompanied by a low, threatening rumble in his chest. "I would've avoided crossing their territory if it weren't for your squishy human ass."
"You think my ass is squishy?" Foot in mouth. Again.
When Derek's eyes flashed red Stiles lifted his hands in apology. "Sorry. Sorry. Won't happen again. You know, as long as you guys show me where their territory is exactly, seeing as I don't have the benefit of advanced olfactory features -"
"I'll take you home tomorrow," Derek interrupted gruffly.
"Ah, yes, thank you. " Stiles felt a blush creep up his neck. Squishy human. Strong Alpha with an equally strong glare.
"You think we scared those mountain lions out of their home for good?" He thought it wise to imply himself in the action too, not just Derek. Although technically, from a mountain lion's point of view, Derek was the only one of them that was scary. Hell, that was probably anyone's view. Nothing scary about lanky ol' Stiles, except if you had a rambling phobia or something.
"I made sure to disturb as little as possible," Derek answered reluctantly. "They should return after they've established I was just passing through."
Stiles nodded, feeling slightly relieved. Preserving nature, and all. "Good. Good."
After Derek turned away to stretch out underneath a tree, Scott jostled Stiles' shoulder. "Glad you're here, man."
Good old Scott.
***
Dinner was a rambunctious affair. As soon as Stiles saw the crate Derek had stashed away the day before, he'd butted in, taking up casual residence in Derek's space as usual. The others took part in the discussion about how to best light the barbecue, though they didn't come as close, left their body mostly out of it; unlike Stiles, with his full body communication.
The human boy didn't ask for attention the same way as the Betas did; he was just there . Derek didn't need to actively scent him to make him comfortable: it wouldn't make much of a difference to Stiles' insensitive nose and the boy smelled like pack already anyway. Though most certainly no wolf, Stiles had picked up a lot of mannerisms through time and he was almost as tactile as the others. The way he rifled through the contents of the crate could be chalked up to curiosity, though Derek knew it had also - probably subconsciously - to do with acquainting himself with the things, almost marking it like a wolf would do.
Stiles had engrained himself in the pack, by no of Derek's doings. Unburdened by a sense of hierarchy like the Betas had, the boy had fashioned himself an unusual space within the pack. He was their researcher, their strategist when the danger allowed to plan for it. And he was a natural caretaker, even though his methods were disguised by sarcasm and teenage brashness. He was often better at caring for another person than for himself.
Derek gently shouldered Stiles to the side, where the boy was gingerly trying to get the baked potatoes from between the barbecue coals. With his claws it was easy to pick up the tin foil wrapped packages, dropping them one by one on the plate Stiles held out. His wolf was pleased when he watched Stiles doling out the food, each pack member having a plate filled with meat, green salad and some potatoes.
"Sit down, Stiles," Derek rumbled, when the boy kept standing, looking around to see if anyone needed anything else. He grabbed the boy by the back pocket of his jeans and tugged to make him comply. Stiles was never a quiet dinner companion, but the outdoors made you hungry and for a short while no other sounds than contented eating and the songs of birds were heard.
After that, s'mores were made (Stiles kept insisting he made the best ones and made everybody taste, Derek first, unknowingly - or did he? - pleasing the Alpha wolf), songs were sang and scary stories were told. Stiles loudly laughed at every story, though he curled his body around his upturned knees and slowly positioned himself so the Alpha was at his back. Derek let him steal the warmth of the fire, basking in the feeling of contentment and protectiveness from his wolf.
When night truly came over the forest, everybody sought out a place to sleep. The little igloo Stiles brought was deemed the perfect place for a puppy pile. Stiles ("Goodnight, Derek") and Scott were first, Isaac soon followed. Then Erica declared she didn't want to sleep with the bugs and Boyd crawled in last.
It didn't take long for Stiles' voice to be heard over the giggles and whispered conversations.
"Oh my God! It is hotter than hell in here! Any moment now some hobbits are gonna walk in to drop off a ring!"
"My precioussss," Erica hissed playfully and the tent canvas moved as Stiles flailed his way away from her, or so Derek suspected.
"I don't know how you guys can stand it, I am practically melting!"
"Just go to sleep, Stiles," Scott soothed sleepily. "It's not that bad."
"Maybe for you it isn't, you are not running on human temperatures exactly either." Inside the tent someone moved, pushing the others who responded with grunts and groans. "I'm gonna sleep outside!"
Erica's response was the clearest. "Is mommy gonna sleep with daddy?"
After a short second Stiles his response came, sounding somewhat pinched. "Maybe I'll take my chances with Jackson, I'm pretty sure lizards aren't living furnaces."
Across the clearing from Derek Jackson loudly hissed his disapproval for that plan. His tail flicked against the low overhang of rock he'd curled up under.
"Oh my god, dude," Stiles responded vehemently, zipping open the tent. "Chill. The feeling is mutual."
Derek's wolf didn't like this animosity between his packmates, but as a human he knew they'd have each others backs when needed, regardless of how they felt about each other on a personal level. Pack came first.
"Isaac! Let go off my leg!" Stiles was halfway out of the tent now, turned back to free his lower body from an insistent packmate. "Scott, will you-" Stiles suddenly rolled backwards and grunted. "That will do."
His sleeping bag followed, hitting him in the face, accompanied with a cheerful "Goodnight, mommy!" from Erica.
Derek watched Stiles get up and look around himself in the dark. It might've been funny to see what he would do, but on the other hand, he might hurt himself stumbling around in the pitch black clearing. So he let his eyes flash red, startling the boy a bit when he realised Derek wasn't that far away.
Stiles stumbled over to him, muttering something about bringing a tent and not getting to sleep in it. When he reached Derek he almost stepped on his tail and received a warning yip. "Oh! Oh, all wolfed out I see?"
Stiles didn't see shit in the dark.
"Nice little spot you got here," Stiles remarked, lowering himself to the forest floor. Derek had picked a spot between three trees close together, where the grass made way for soft moss.
At first Stiles leaned against a tree, yet that didn't work for the wolf. If only because that way the boy's feet pushed against his soft belly; he didn't mind warming his feet, but Stiles' extremities were never still. So the wolf prodded and tugged until the boy was curled up against his side, one arm slung over his back, the long fingers gently gripping the fur.
Stiles was in his sleeping bag, though it wasn't zipped up. Derek took the ends in his jaws and folded them over the boy's legs, nudging him until he got the message and zipped them together.
"Oh my god," Stiles chuckled. "You really are a big softie, all about keeping me safe and warm."
The wolf growled at that, but only on principle.
All zipped up, Stiles tucked himself in against the wolf, resting his head against his flank. Derek curled a little tighter around him, putting his head on Stiles' legs. The boy wormed one arm out of the sleeping bag and curled his fingers around one of the wolf's ears, gently rubbing the sensitive tissue there.
He sighed, blowing warm breath against the wolf's fur. "Goodnight, Alpha." Moments later he was asleep.
Thank you for reading!
Reblogging is appreciated. Read more of my fics on Wattpad and A03.
What if the wolf shift is actually normal for alphas and usually they are the normal wolf size. But the more an alpha is loved by their pack the bigger the shift gets. Talia had a pretty big wolf shift, but her pack was a family pack so it was to be expected.
But Derek's pack is made up of teenagers, and bitten ones at that, and banshees and hunters and humans and even some non-werewolf shifters, so no one expects his shift to be even normal wolf size.
But when another wolf pack insults Derek’s pack, insults his family, Derek shifts out of annoyance and his wolf form is huge. Like his-shoulder-is-on-head-level-with-a-human-huge.
The other pack leaves very quickly after seeing that.
Stiles claims since his love is totally the main reason Derek is this huge, he gets to ride him back home, while Peter just amusedly watches them, knowing damn well that Derek’s big form almost doubled in seize when he came back from the dead.
