for meanttobeabeta: late summer 2013

[wannabebatman]

'Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to--'

Okay, that's it. He can't do this, he can't read this freaking book, every time he tries he just wants to punch this stupid kid in the face, and then his eyes start glazing over and he realizes he's been reading for half a chapter and hasn't retained any of it, and then he has to reread, and its just all too much. "Uggggh," Stiles groans loudly, pulling the open book down over his face as he sprawls on his bed. "I can't do this any more, freaking summer reading is driving me nuts, and this stupid book--" The last sentence is punctuated by him hurling the paperback across the room. And of course, brilliant Stilinski aim has the book flying unerringly right for his window, where a familiar dark head is just poking through the open window, uninvited.

"Crap--"

Sorry, Derek. It's unintentional, he swears.

Comments

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek's hand lifts almost casually, catching the book just before it hits his face. "Did Holden Caulfield do something to your personally?" The question's remarkably mild as he slips the rest of the way into the room an crosses to drop the book on the bed next to Stiles... and reach down to brush his fingers over the back of Stiles' hand in a casually thoughtless touch before he turns and drops gracefully into the desk chair.

[wannabebatman]

"He might as well have. How can anyone read this crap? I get like two sentences in and just want to slap him and tell him to stop whining." Derek doesn't seem pissed, just drops the book by Stiles on the bed (he doesn't comment on the touch, neither of them do, but it's just one more thing he's almost gotten used to, over the course of the last two months) and takes a seat in his computer chair. Stiles, done with reading and willing to take any excuse to stop, just laces his fingers across his stomach and rolls his eyes. "A week left to write this freaking paper before school starts and I can't even get through this book, and I can't find the CliffsNotes anywhere. Great way to start the year. Ugh." Notice him not asking why Derek's here. There's been a steady stream of clothes coming back to Stiles one item at a time since...things. He also doesn't acknowledge that bit of relief he feels every time Derek settles in like it's the most natural thing in the world. It means he's still himself.

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek gives him a disbelieving look and snorts quietly, legs stretched out in front of him as the chair creaks slightly under his weight. And if only Stiles could hear his thoughts to appreciate the restraint it takes not to point out just how much time he's spent listening to Scott whining at least as insipidly, and without the mitigating factor of at least having some literary merit and educational value attached to it.

"I've seen some of the mindless, pointless crap you trawl your way through on the internet, Stiles," he points out instead. "Besides, think of Holden's fictional existential angst about coming of age as a break from real life supernatural angst. Being bored is a luxury."

[wannabebatman]

To be fair, Stiles knows it's not that bad. He has listened to worse from Scott (though Scott does have the benefit of a decade of friendship to soften the edges a little), has whined about stuff just as ridiculous. But there's something incredibly surreal about summer reading assignments after the last few months he's had. Hell, the last year he's had. It makes it incredibly hard to focus, even with his Adderal. And hearing Derek channel his English teacher isn't making it any easier.

His words get a wounded, scandalized look as Stiles scoffs. "Look, Judgey McJudgerson, there's plenty of mind and point to the things I trawl through, I'll have you know. How else do you expect me to find gems like owls with photoshopped cat heads, or twenty-seven mythological creatures that exist in the Pacific Northwest?" They just...won't talk about the three hours of browsing Cracked that last one took. "Besides, it's not the angst. It's just how pretentious it all sounds. And it doesn't make being bored suck less. And since when are you the king of modern lit?" Because there's something in Derek's phrasing that makes Stiles think he actually read the book. And maybe even, shudder, enjoyed it. Surefire way to tell he isn't human right there.

[meanttobeabeta]

The scandalized look just gets another snort, and this one might actually be amused... which probably isn't fair, given it's not like he's so old he can't remember feeling like boring school assignments were some horrific curse in his life, but they feel so distant and surreal that it's hard, sometimes, to believe that they're really things that happened to him. That there was a time when a tedious English Lit assignment actually mattered in his life.

"Oh come on, English Lit's all about pretension, and Catcher in the Rye isn't even hard. The main themes... the main themes are-" Alienation as self-protection, the pain of growing up, and the 'phoniness' of the adult world. He can't even force the words out. "Really not that hard to figure out. I thought Google was supposedly your friend."

He spins slightly in the chair and looks out the window he just came in rather than at Stiles. "It's not like I didn't study this shit too, you know. You think I'm illiterate or something?"

[wannabebatman]

He's gotten disturbingly good at filling in the blanks on those silences. Maybe it's because they're the same kinds of silences he fills up with meaningless chatter. Things you just don't talk about because they point to other things you don't want to talk about and before you know it you're bleeding again. He doesn't poke at whatever it was Derek was about to say. In fact, he's perfectly content to never talk about Catcher in the Rye again. It's bad enough reading it the first time.

But Derek's melodrama must be addressed, and to that end Stiles just rolls his eyes. "No, I just can't imagine you as the 'reading is fundamental' type. I thought lurking was your only hobby. Or breaking and entering." And yet, despite the words, his tone is almost companionable. He has yet to actually kick Derek out during one of these visits; in fact, he usually has some excuse for him to stay. "And my google-fu is strong, okay, it's just I started reading this thing and I can't stop halfway through a book. Ever."

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek doesn't remember how to fill silences anymore, there've been too many of them for too long, with too much pain buried under them. He'd tried for Laura, they'd tiptoed around each others' pain and guilt, however misplaced in her case, and tried to rebuild something like a life, but that's gone now, and the only person he might ever have told any of it is gone as well. He almost visibly shakes himself and forces his gaze back to Stiles, to this stupid, stubborn, too-smart kid, and wonders why the hell he's doing this. Why he's let himself latch on so tight.

"You forgot slamming you into things." And being betrayed by the people I'm stupid enough to trust. This time the snort's in exasperation for his own melodrama, even if it feels true, bone deep. "And how do you know, maybe I build ships in bottles, or collect baseball cards." He manages a smirk, and makes himself feel it, reaches for the relative ease of a few moments ago. "And if you can't put a book down half way through? Do yourself a favor and don't ever crack open The Sound and the Fury." He makes an exaggerated face. "Sparknotes are more than enough to go on."

[wannabebatman]

"How could I ever forget that one? It's my favorite. The old 'slamming-Stiles-into-things.' Classic." His tone is dry enough to compete with the Sahara. Honestly, he's really glad they've moved past that stage in their...whatever this is.But also honest enough to realize, yeah, probably going to happen again. A few more times, at least. "Baseballs cards, I can actually kinda see. You have that obsessive mentality." Stiles never did much with cards, but he still has a ton of Mets cards, courtesy of his grandfather. But the Mets were a special case.

The smirk might be a little forced, but Stiles snorts at the face Derek pulls next, anyway. "Yeah, I see the glazed looks on faces at the library and thank God I'm too dumb for AP English." Or too lazy, pick one. "You know the freshmen got to read comics for their summer reading this year? Totally unfair. When is the establishment going to recognize the literary merits of Spider-Man? I'm just saying."

[meanttobeabeta]

"It's hard to deny the appeal." His tone is equally dry. Though it's been a long time since he's caused Stiles bodily injury for any reason that didn't involve attempting to protect him, but he's apologized for that already, and Stiles might be right about him exhausting all his apologies for a while. Joking about it... might be wrong, but it's easier.

He cocks his head and glances away again, expression slightly distant, and shrugs. He hasn't thought about any of that for a long time. "My dad got me started." It hurts... less than he'd expected, to say it. "He was all about the Cubs."

His attention snaps back to Stiles, focused and intent again. "Yeah, right." He rolls his eyes. "Of course you're too dumb." It's very clear how little he believes that. "Too lazy and likely to spend your class time figuring out how to make the teacher's life a living hell, maybe, but too dumb? Quit fishing for compliments... and it sounds like they are recognizing the literary merits of Spider-Man, if they're letting the freshmen read comics." Which... huh, kind of interesting. "It's sure better than Twilight."

[wannabebatman]

"It was the Mets, for my family. Opening day at Shea stadium was kind of a family tradition." Saying it doesn't hurt nearly as much as talking about his mother. His grandfather's death wasn't unexpected; the man was in his nineties, and had smoked for the last seventy-five years of his life. Thoughts of him only brought nostalgia and fondness. Not loss.

As much as he knows how smart he is, Derek's response is still surprising. Almost as surprising as the kinda warm, fuzzy feeling it gives him. An acknowledgment of his usefulness from am unexpected quarter. Not because he thinks Derek thinks he's dumb, except for the part where he does. Even if Derek comes to him for help with the research, he still can't help thinking...whatever. It feels good to be acknowledged, especially after two semesters of being taken for granted. Scott.

"Point made. I am, in fact, that lazy. But only that irritating to people who deserve it. Like Harris. Anyway, they're reading Persepolis, I think, which is only really a comic in that it has pictures to go with the words. Still not superheroes. And not a single pair of tights." Shrugging, he laces his fingers over his stomach, thumbs tapping a rhythm. "You're right though. Anything's better than Twilight."

A thought occurs to him then, and he fixes Derek with a Look. "Speaking of. Vampires. A Thing or not a Thing?"

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek snorts quietly. "Of course it was the Mets." He looks back up at Stiles through a fringe of dark lashes. "L... Laura used to drag me to at least two or three Yankees home games a year. When we were in New York." Definitely never the Mets.

"And me," Derek points out, dry as dust, and stops himself from saying he doesn't know what he did to deserve it. "Harris definitely deserves it, though." Because even when he'd been at BHS Harris had been an asshole. "I didn't know you had such a thing for tights." Both eyebrows go up, and if possible his voice is even dryer, but then he's moving on. Because really, Twilight and vampires? And the answer he has to give is just... disturbing.

"I'm... actually not sure?" He shrugs and grimaces a little. "I've heard stories, especially in New York, but I've never met any, or seen any first hand evidence. Pretty sure that if there are any they don't sparkle, though."

[wannabebatman]

Of course the Yankees. It makes perfect sense. That isn't just sarcasm, either; his grandfather was convinced there were fundamental personality differences between Yankees fans and Mets fans, and so far Stiles had seen nothing to disapprove this. But there's no use dwelling on that now, or Derek's cracks about the Mets or Stiles' supposed tights fixation. More important things to think about. Like:

"Stories? What kind of stories?" Because, okay, this is kind of important. If Tinkerbell is real and kind of a bloodthirsty bitch, he might as well learn what he can about actual vampire lore. Who knows, maybe they're like, cretaceous-sized mosquitoes with brains. And easy to kill. Yeah, he can dream.

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek's actually a little surprised that Stiles ignores the opening to mock him for supporting the Yankees, not to mention for even knowing about Twilight, let alone referencing it. And letting the comment about tights slide... Derek's tempted to ask if he's feeling okay. But then, all right, maybe the kid does have a fair bit of motivation to figure out what is and isn't likely to crawl out of the shadows and kill them, the way things have been going.

"Just odds and ends. Hints. If they're around they definitely don't want to attract attention from humans any more than we... than I, than werewolves do." He shrugs and cocks his head, trying to think and not focus on that slip. "From what little I know I don't think there's much chance we're going to have to deal with any?"

[wannabebatman]

Yeah, Stiles might be running a little on the paranoid side lately. But really, who could blame him, the way things have been going thus far? Not just this summer, but...in general. He'd just gotten used to the one monster under his bed (or, y'know, coming through the window) and then he finds out there's also one in the closet, another under the sink, a third hiding under the stairs, and they're each worse than the last. Lizardmen and fairies and vampires. Oh my.

Besides, there's also the fact that despite the sheer terror and the years he's sure all the adrenaline's taking from him, he still finds all this stuff really freaking cool. Like, he's totally a real-life Xander Harris. Which, kinda cool. Although Lydia would probably argue that. But, whatever, she's totally the Cordelia of his dreams, so. Point is, there's way more to life than just school and college and a minimum-wage purgatory and God knows what else. This is that something else, and it's a hell of a rush sometimes.

For an instant there, he focuses in on that 'we' of Derek's, a quick funny feeling in his stomach like a tug on a fishing line, before he dismisses it entirely. Derek's clearly talking about we as in he and other werewolves in general, it's obvious from the rest of the words he uses to clarify. Not we as in 'Derek and Stiles.' There is no Derek-and-Stiles, and he's getting really, really good at grabbing those sorts of thoughts before they go careening down a track that doesn't seem to be getting any less embarrassing--or less familiar. He really needs to get laid.

In the meantime, a snort of disbelief from Stiles. "Seriously? You realize just by saying that you've probably doomed us to an infestation of them, right? What do you even call a group of vampires? A Lugosi?" He kinda likes that one. A Lugosi of vampires.

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek very much means 'we' as in pack, including Stiles, but he's not about to say anything about that when the boy so clearly isn't interested in that. Which doesn't change the fact that he is pack, even Isaac can probably feel the shift in the pack bond by now, even if he's not quite sure what it is or means, but Derek's not about to risk the inevitable rejection if he made that clear to Stiles. This is good enough for now, and the fact Stiles doesn't protest Derek's presence means he can continue to protect him.

"I don't have a clue what they're called, but I'm pretty sure it's not that." He can't quite keep from snorting in amusement, even if he doesn't want to encourage Stiles... or maybe he does. "And if we do get an infestation they'd probably go after you just for that."

[wannabebatman]

"Hey, I appreciate the classics, is all," Stiles protests. "Why's everyone always on my case? Do I have, like, a supernatural bullseye on the back of my head or something?" It would make sense. Really, it's not like his big mouth and ridiculously insatiable curiosity get him into trouble or anything. Nope. That couldn't be it.

A moment of thought, more incessant tapping of his fingers, and he looks sidelong at Derek. "I guess they could be a colony. Like bats. I mean, it works for werewolves. A Pack." That last word doesn't come out exactly how he intended. There's a certain sound to it, a weight to the word that neither one of them could possibly miss. But it's stupid of him to think...Scott is his pack. Scott and Alison and Lydia, even if none of them even thought about him in the last three months. Even if Derek is here almost every day. Even if Derek saved him. Even if Derek understands better than any of them. Derek still wouldn't think of him as Pack. Stiles isn't a wolf. He couldn't be. Right?

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek gives him a look at the question, because, really, the answer should be obvious. "You define trouble magnet," he elaborates, voice dry, just in case it isn't, though.

There's no missing the weight Stiles gives to the word, and Derek can't quite bite back an approving rumble. Can't keep from letting his hand brush against the nape if the boy's neck, the way his mother, and later Laura, had always done for him when they were pleased. "They might band together, if they even exist, but I doubt that family, that Pack, is important the way that it is to us." He doesn't correct himself this time, it just doesn't occur to him.

[wannabebatman]

Stiles just gives him his best innocent look at that, as if to say moi? Trouble magnet? They both know it's true, though. Much as he tries to not be, there's something in him that just can't leave well enough alone. He's always been the kid that picks at scabs, that pushes bullies one step too far, that tests limits and pushes his luck. It can't always hold. And it isn't like he does it maliciously, or even that he's aware of it when it's happening. He just...has to know.

He's managed to flail his way onto his stomach, and when the brief, warm pass of a hand brushes the back of his neck, he actually manages not to flinch from it. After all, those little touches are another one of those things he just doesn't think about. It doesn't feel nearly as weird as it did a month ago. He doesn't think about how weird it doesn't feel, either. How it's actually still comforting. "Solitary creatures, gotcha," he says instead, and again that 'us' makes him wonder. Pack. Family. He's been thinking a lot about family lately. "Bet Holden would have loved Twilight." Random, maybe, but he never watches his filter around Derek. No reason to.

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek snorts and rolls his eyes, because that look isn't fooling anyone and they both know it. This is the kid who went looking for Derek's sister's dismembered body in the woods, after all. And yet, it's hard to hold it against him anymore, because it's obviously just a function of the way the kid's brain bounces around.

Derek barely even notices the touching anymore, at least not most of the time. It's automatic, the kind of physical reassurance that comes from being part of a pack, that he owes to all of his betas, though the others, just Isaac now, have never been as easy about it as Stiles seems to be. It's one of those human things he just doesn't get.

"If they even exist," he repeats, because he really doesn't know, irritating as that is to have to admit. Over and over and over. And then he's blinking at the conversational whiplash. "Holden-" Blink-blink. "I don't have any idea who the hell loves those disasters." There's a pause, and a quiet sigh. "Other than Laura, anyway." Christ, she'd thought they were the most hilarious things ever.

[wannabebatman]

"Alison." The reply is automatic. He'd caught her reading Breaking Dawn at lunch one day, and after a full three minutes of just staring, had promptly laughed so hard and so long that she'd brained him with the book and stalked off. Didn't matter. It was still freaking hilarious. He still can't help grinning and snickering at the thought.

But that grin fades a little at the next words out of his mouth, words he can't quite stop even as he tries to. "Erica too. She loves all that stuff." Present tense. Present tense because he hasn't given up and they're going to find her and Boyd both and it won't be buried in the woods, half a pale body covered in dirt.

There's another moment as he thinks about Laura, a stranger he never really knew, a puzzle he's slowly putting together with every little piece Derek gives him. Thinks about Erica, and how he never noticed anything, how she gave him possibly one of the biggest wake-up calls he's ever had. About Boyd and how he didn't know anything at all about the guy, but that didn't mean anything. He didn't really know anything about Derek but he mattered.

"I've been thinking. Some ways we might be able to start taking them down. Or at least know where they're not. It's not much, but it's a start, maybe." Because someone noticed when he was gone. And someone came for him.

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek snorts in response, though he doesn't crack the smile he might have if Stiles had mentioned someone other than an Argent. That bridge, unstable as it had been to begin with, feels well and truly burned. He doesn't say anything, though, just lets it slide... until it's lost in the wash of guilt and grief at Stiles' next words.

"Yeah. Yeah, she does," he agrees quietly, shoulders slumping and expression going soft and open for a moment. He still has that vague sense of her, of Boyd too, that tells him they haven't joined another pack, haven't taken a new Alpha... that they're still alive. But it's no more than that. Not enough to find them. Not enough to fix what he broke.

The gaze he turns on Stiles this time is sharp and intent, because Derek knows exactly what he's talking about now. It might not get them Erica and Boyd back, but it's immediate and important and something he can, hopefully, do. "How?"

[wannabebatman]

For a moment, he regrets saying anything at all. He's getting better at differentiating between Derek's fifty-seven flavors of stoic, and the mention of Erica can't do anything but cut. He's not good with people, definitely not all that great an alpha, but at the things that matter? That, Derek's got. He worries about his people, his pack. He goes to any lengths to protect them. Stiles is proof of that.

But he can't not say it. And after what happened with the fairies, or at least everything else leading up to the part where he royally boned it? He thinks maybe...well, maybe he can do something with this, too. Maybe they can find the alpha pack. Maybe they can find Erica and Boyd and then make the alpha pack leave. He isn't sure. All he knows is he's tired of there being a body count every semester. And that Derek came for him.

Rolling over again, Stiles curls into a sitting position facing Derek, legs crossed and hands tangled in his lap. "Humor me for a sec. Where have you looked for them so far, and how have you looked?" He's assuming Derek just hit the usual spots: school, preserve, the depot, maybe the bus station, and probably all just by smell. He has to be sure, first.

[meanttobeabeta]

Derek's preternaturally still where he sits, the computer chair rolled up close to the bed, and well inside what most people would consider their personal space bubble, even for friendly contact. But Pack no personal space bubble and, more and more, Derek's forgetting to keep up the pretense of humanity around this fragile, frustrating, brilliant human boy who's tak3n more easily to being Pack than any of his betas, even if he doesn't actually know that's what he is.

A few weeks ago he would have snapped at that question, told Stiles it wasn't his business and stormed off, but now he tips back wlightly in his chair, one foot stretched out as a barely there contact against Stiles's foot as he considers. "Everyplace they normally frequented--school, their homes, that coffee place that... that Erica likes." He shrugs. "If they crossed the perimeter of our territory they did it with their scents concealed somehow, because even in a car I'd have scented them." Maybe not a stranger well enough to identify, but his Betas, his Pack, those he'd know.

"I, uh, I've listened outside their houses too. Their families have checked with relatives out of area... they think they ran off to elope." The irony that they'd left out of fear, to escape the horror he'd brought into their lives, not love as their families think, isn't lost on him.

[wannabebatman]

The closeness doesn't bother Stiles. Doesn't even set off his hormones, at least not when he's like this, in full research mode. Derek doesn't have any sense of personal space, whether it's him or the wolf, and it's just something Stiles has accepted. Occasionally, it's meant pushing Derek out of the way of his chair, or accidentally flailing and cracking him in the elbow, but since that didn't get him mangled or make Derek back off, Stiles has opted to waste his breath on other things. Like Derek's tendency to not even bother knocking on his window before climbing in. Or, you know, calling. Like ya do.

No, instead he just watches Derek while he goes through his list with what would have been surprising ease three weeks ago. He's less surprised now, since...well, Derek obviously trusts him to have some good ideas, some brain power. And doesn't that make him feel warm and fuzzy. Anyway, Derek has been more thorough than Stiles expected, which gets him an approving look, as if Stiles is reconsidering a previous opinion.

"Their families might think that, but they haven't filed a missing persons report, or my dad would have said something. And by said something, I mean he would have eaten the salads I make him without trying to slip them into his napkin. Any time a kid goes missing he does things, it's like a neon sign. Anyway. It's gonna take two weeks after the school year starts before they file one anyway, for truancy."

His hands are still in his lap, bizarrely so, but he doesn't need to move when his brain is doing all the moving for him. "Second. We should check the bus station. Train, too, just to be sure. There might be something. Canvas the place with yearbook photos. Maybe someone saw something, most of the bums in town do circuits during the summer to keep from getting busted. And there's ways to screw with your nose, right? Smells that cover things? Can you look for those smells, too? Maybe they used like, kryptonite air freshener or whatever while moving. Or the alpha pack did."

He looks at Derek again, and there might be just the tiniest hint of something looking for approval there. He's not totally stupid, right? "Just my thoughts. Figured there might be something we could learn doing it Scooby-style." Bad phrasing, maybe. But her doesn't mean it like that, honest, Derek.

[meanttobeabeta]

"No, because they think they're together and assume they're okay. They probably don't want to deal with the cops if they don't have to, they're just waiting for a call." And, of course, there's been some yelling and accusations between the families, but nothing that's gotten out of control. Yet. It doesn't help (or maybe hurt) that neither family had realized they were missing for over a week... which is alarming, in a way, but also one of the things that had made them prime candidates for the bite.

He nods along at Stiles' suggestion of the bus and train depots. "I checked both places, but-" He shrugs. People didn't tend to want to talk to him, so he hadn't really asked around, just gone by scent. Obviously he should have been more thorough. "If their scents have been covered they didn't do it. I... hadn't taught them any of that. Yet. But the alphas could... yeah, they could be covering their scent. I can try to pick up things they might use for it, but there are a lot of them." And it's something else he should have thought of on his own already. He could blame his failures on the distraction of the fairies, but really, it's just more proof he was never meant for this.

[wannabebatman]

"You're trying. You've been trying, and you're gonna keep trying." He isn't sure why exactly he says the words, but there's that uncanny knack of echoing Derek's thoughts again. That weird sense of something at the edges of things, a sort of knowing. He untangles his legs abruptly, one foot bumping Derek's as he does, and it's mostly intentional, the contact a way to focus since he's back to not looking at Derek again. "We can't not find them. Do you know anything about the alpha pack? Cause I'm still trying to figure out how that whole thing works. Why they haven't gone after Isaac. Or Scott." Or Stiles himself, he supposes, but what would any pack want with a difficult human teenager? "Maybe there's some little piece of info that'll connect the dots, I dunno. At least we know Erica and Boyd didn't take themselves." Even if that would have made things a lot easier.

[meanttobeabeta]

He shouldn't give a damn, hearing that from Stiles, but it warms something in him anyway. Maybe he's not fucking everything up completely if Stiles can at least recognize that much, and he presses his foot automatically into the touch.

"I... I just don't know that much about them. They were... back then, they were new. Inheard my parents talking about them, but only a couple times and never details. And then we were back east and-" He shrugs. They hadn't really interacted with their own kind. "And-" He looks down at the floor where their feet touch. "They were leaving. To find a new pack. They just... haven't." It feels important to admit that.

[wannabebatman]

He hadn't expected Derek to be so forthcoming about everything. Yeah, he figures they've...bonded, or whatever, since the fairy fiasco, but still. Getting information from Derek has always been like pulling teeth. Either he doesn't want to share what he knows, figures what he knows is irrelevant, or doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know. This sudden volunteering...well, he knows Derek wants to find Erica and Boyd. That's enough for now. And the information is enough to get Stiles' head percolating.

"So we know they haven't chosen a new pack, and they aren't dead. That's good. We also know they didn't leave town on their own. Also good. Means chances are, they really don't like where they are, and they're gonna want to be found. But like...alpha pack. How does that work? Are they legit all alphas? Do they have some sort of supreme alpha leader? And then there's motivation. Are they after your territory, or are they after you? Because those are two totally different things. What did you hear?" Maybe Derek doesn't have the answer, or maybe he only thinks he doesn't. Only one way to find out, and that's if Stiles treats Derek like Google and comes at his questions from a hundred different angles.

[meanttobeabeta]

It's taken a long, maybe too long, but Derek's realized that keeping everything to himself, including his ignorance, to himself really hasn't been working for him. It had just been hard, so damn hard, to think past the overwhelming flood of power and instinct and grief and loss at first, and then he'd had betas to control and protect and Scott to try and run damage control on and... he'd been running on fear, confusion and bloody minded determination for so long, but somewhere along the line he's come to rely on Stiles. On his weirdass brain and his dogged loyalty and determination.

Still, there's one thing in there that needs correction. "It's not good that they were taken and need to be rescued, Stiles." He scowls and looks away. "They deserve to find a safe place and an Alpha to protect them." And it's his fault they haven't. "Not to get caught in the middle of this mess and used against me." Because the one thing he is sure of is that the Alpha pack is here for him.

[wannabebatman]

Bad choice of words. He knows that, he just wasn't thinking right. That scowl makes him wince a little, one hand lifting to rub the back of his neck, the knots of tension that always seem to settle there. "No, of course it's not good , I just meant--well, obviously they didn't mean for this to happen, and neither did you, so at least it's gonna be easier to find them. And this time, they'll be safer. You aren't the worst alpha ever. You just--need practice." He almost said 'have no idea what you're doing' there, and while true, he doesn't think that's what Derek needs to be reminded of. Again.

"I'll grab the yearbook, we can copy some photos to take around. Get started tomorrow, and maybe we'll get lucky. The alpha pack can't stay quiet forever, especially if they're planning something, right?"

[meanttobeabeta]

He knows Stiles didn't mean it that way, and he almost feels bad for implying that he did, he's... so fucking worn out and on edge. He hasn't had a break, hasn't had a moment to just breathe and feel anything but threatened, since he felt his pack bond with Laura snap from the other side of the continent, and it's starting to feel like he never will again.

"Yeah." He settles his hand on Stiles' knee, comfort with no real thought. Apology for the not quite accusation. Thanks for the not quite praise, ridiculously grateful for the fact that it's not outright condemnation of his incompetence, like he knows Scott would provide given the slightest opportunity. He finds himself looking at Stiles, at those too-weary, too-old honey-brown eyes and sharp features starting to show the man beneath the boy, and wonders just how much he's taking away from him like this... and realizes that it doesn't matter, because he's not strong enough to walk away and do this functionally on his own.

"Yeah. Tomorrow's good," he finally answers, too low and too rough. "And... I'll try to beat some more information about the alpha pack out of Peter," he concedes, reluctant but determined. "I'm sure he knows more than he's saying."

[wannabebatman]

The hand on his knee he could ignore. He's starting to adjust to all the little touches, learning to put them all in a little box in the corner of his mind where everything else he doesn't want to think too hard about goes. So he doesn't think about the hand on his knee, ergo doesn't think about the body it's attached to, or the person it belongs to. So, no hormonal reaction, by sheer force of will. At least that's what he's deluded himself into thinking. But the way Derek looks at him? That he can't ignore, feeling uncomfortably exposed as the silence stretches. And still, he can't look away from those eyes he still can't quite figure out. Green and grey at the same time. But they were blue when he wolfed out, when he was still a beta. Eyes that look at him like they almost know what they're looking at.

He looks away just as Derek speaks again, a catch in his voice Stiles can't quite decipher. "Okay, so, tomorrow." Wow, hello puberty, we thought you were over. His voice hasn't cracked like that in...at least six months. The mention of Peter gives him an excuse to try again, clearing his throat and snorting. "Because he's always been a veritable fount of knowledge. But yeah, okay. Anything we can learn is better than nothing, right?" He's always thought that. Information is never a bad thing, just another tool to be used.

[meanttobeabeta]

"He's an asshole and he's not going to tell me anything unless he thinks it'll serve his own purposes," Derek agrees in a low, frustrated snarl. "And even then he'll probably twist it." But he's still the only source of information they have, and right now Derek will take any advantage, however weak, he can manage.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He pushes to his feet, squeezing Stiles' knee one more time as he rises.