wannabebatman | for meanttobeabeta: October 2013

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for meanttobeabeta: October 2013

He always knew they'd find Erica and Boyd somehow. Granted, part of him always figured it would be in pieces in the woods, like the nightmare he can't stop himself from having even now, a year later, but still. It would be closure. A bigger, better part of him thought it might be kinda like an episode of CSI: Supernatural Crimes, with his brains and Derek's wolfy senses teaming up to track the Alpha pack back to their lair. A heroic rescue, just in the nick of time, and he could make some off-handed Batman joke to Erica as they escaped a possibly exploding house or something equally badass. Something he could use to show himself see, sometimes there can be happy endings. He didn't let himself think about not finding them, and he never thought it would be like this.

It was just an accident. He hadn't even been looking, too busy trying to juggle his groceries. He was heading to Scott's for a study session with the gang. A gang he didn't really feel like he was quite part of, like there was something missing from it. So he compensated with snacks. It was while shoving a bag of 2-liter sodas into the back of his Jeep without crushing the chips in the next back when he noticed Mrs. McCall. Some kid helping her with her groceries. Stiles there, about to walk over and say hi, when the guy opens his backseat, and there's a ridiculous leopard-print scarf he'd recognize anywhere. He knows. And then he realizes, as he jumps into the Jeep and starts it up, intent on following to make sure nothing happens to the closest thing he's known to a mom since his died. That's when he sees that car pull into the house next to Scott's, and he makes a complete 180, driving for the warehouse district and the only person he knows to call at this moment. His phone is already glued to his face two seconds in.

"Come on, dude, pick up."

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Derek's reached the point where he doesn't ignore his phone anymore, not with as fucked up as everything's gotten. He can't risk missing word that something's gone to shit, and so he's got the phone to his ear by the second ring.

"What is it, Stiles?" He doesn't even sound particularly growly or exasperated. The kid doesn't call just for shits and giggles and he's been too much help the last few months for him to assume it's anything but important.

The tone, or lack of, doesn't even register with Stiles right now. His heart is racing, his mind is going a thousand miles a minute, and he can't think. Can barely breathe. That's Scott back there, next to the Alpha pack and he doesn't even know it, all of them right there next to so much danger, and it doesn't matter that he's not happy with Scott. It doesn't matter that he's hurt and that he's been more or less taken for granted for the last year or more. Scott is still his best friend. He can't let this happen. Not this.

It's a minute or so before he realizes Derek is still waiting for an answer, and probably getting more impatient by the moment. "Are you at your apartment? Because we need to talk. We need to talk like now ." He knows his voice is too high and too strained and too fast. But he really, really can't help that.

Derek can hear how Stiles is almost hyperventilating, which isn't quite as concerning as the way Stiles doesn't appear to even hear him as he repeats his name, trying to break through his obvious panic and get his attention. Derek's sigh of relief when Stiles finally starts talking is probably audible over the phone, though no telling if Stiles hears it.

"I will be in two minutes." He's already turned the Camaro around and is heading back that way. "Take a deep breath, pay attention to your driving, you won't do anyone any good bending the Jeep around a light pole and I'll meet you there."

Stiles...hears the sigh, but doesn't really register it. He can't register much but the pounding of blood in his ears, until Derek's voice finally breaks through his panicked fugue. And ironically enough, his words of caution have Stiles speeding up, not quite demolishing the speed limit, but toeing that line. If anyone pulls him over right now, he's honestly not sure he can pull it together enough to come up with a believable excuse. He has to get there. Derek has to know, because there's no way Scott can handle this on his own and there's no way this is a coincidence.

They do make him feel calmer, though, Derek's patient instructions. Mostly because of how ridiculous they are. "You're kidding me, right? I've seen you drive. You just...be there. It's important." Not just because of what this is. Just...because. Because he thinks better when Derek's around, making him. And he needs his best for this.

He hangs up without waiting for Derek's response, speeds up further, and is in front of Derek's building no more than five minutes later. The Jeep is barely parked and off before he's out, looking for Derek like a drowning man looking for a lifeline. Things are so very not okay.

Derek huffs in quiet exasperation, though there's more than a little fondness in it to anyone paying enough attention to notice. Those people are definitely not Derek or Stiles, though. "I have better reflexes than you do... and I'll heal if I wrap my car around a pole," he grumbles to empty air in the fraction of a second after Stiles hangs up.

By the time the Jeep pulls up Derek is, as promised, back, waiting on the curb without having bothered to go up to the loft. He grabs hold of Stiles' arm the second he emerges and pulls him close, examining him scenting the air for any sign of injury or blood. "What is it?" he asks once he's satisfied Stiles isn't actually hurt, and his voice is tense and strained. "What happened?"

Stiles doesn't really flinch anymore when Derek grabs him. It's been months since he's been hit or shoved into a wall, months since anything more violent than the lobbing of a book in his general direction. In fact, when Derek grabs him it's almost like it's easier to breathe, as Stiles' hand clenches around his arm, reassuring himself, steadying himself. His pulse gradually slows, and it's only when he has his breathing under control that he looks up, dark brown eyes full of anxiety and far too large in his pale face. "I'm fine. Mostly. Can we not do this in the street? That seems like a bad idea. There's stuff you need to know, and yeah." Better that no one sees them talking, even if this neighborhood isn't exactly the nosy neighbor kind. The alphas might have scouts. At this point, Stiles isn't ruling anything out.

Stiles reassurance doesn't actually ease Derek's tension at all, not with the stench of anxiety and fear rolling off him in waves. Grip still tight (but careful, in a way that's second nature now that he's really internalized the fact that Stiles is human, and breakable) on Stiles' arm, Derek propels him towards and through the building's front door, and to the freight elevator that is, conveniently, standing open and ready.

"No one's in hearing distance," he assures Stiles as he reaches to push the button for his floor. He's not even really aware that he still has his other hand curled around Stiles' biceps, and his own tension is palpable in the set of his shoulders and the intensity of his gaze. "Now tell me what happened."

To Stiles' credit, he does an admirable job of stemming the usual flood of rambling and bad analogies and runaway trains of thought he's usually subject to, especially under high amounts of stress. But then, he's had more experience than he ever wanted to have, talking to Derek while he's in this state of mind, knows if he gets lost on a tangent Derek will just make him stop, and shake him til words come out in the proper order. Instead of just opening his mouth and hitting the verbal vomit button, he tries breathing first. That's supposed to help, right?

"The...I think the alphas are a lot closer than we thought. I think--Scott wouldn't know what to look for, right? He wouldn't know if--they've been covering their scent so far, and you're better at the wolf stuff than he is, you're more alpha--he wouldn't be able to tell. Right?" That's...still mostly babbling. And maybe it is nothing. Maybe he shouldn't freak just yet. Maybe there's a better explanation.

Our maybe Erica and Boyd are routing in the basement next door to the house he knows as well as his own.

"The guy who lives next door to Scott. I saw Erica's scarf in his backseat. They just moved in two weeks ago." About the time the scent started showing up all over. The connection seems obvious.

Derek's actually surprised that Stiles gets straight to the point, and pretty much stays on it thereafter. He's changed in the last few months, grown into himself in some ways, and just grown more closed off in others, but there's no way the ability to actually make himself clearly understood without running off on ten tangents isn't an improvement. Of course, Derek's not really thinking of any of that, given the first words out of his mouth are about the alphas.

His eyes are flashing red by the time Stiles mentions Scott's house, and his claws and fangs are out a fraction of a second later at mention of Erica's scarf. He can't believe they've been right under his nose like that, and he's sure it's just meant to drive home his incompetence, that his pack is so fractured it might as well not even exist. He has to bite back the urge to roar as the elevator doors slide open and he drags Stiles bodily out towards his loft.

"No. He wouldn't have a damn clue what to look for. Unless you told him he probably doesn't even know it's possible to cover scents." He unlocks the door and ushers Stiles in. "Do you know where Scott is now? Can you get in touch with him?" Derek's pretty sure that if he tried calling the kid he'd just get hung up on.

Stiles has, actually, always had the ability to get straight to the point. It's just one of those skills that hadn't been used in so long it's covered in dust and a little moldy. No one really listens to him, to his ideas and thoughts and plans. They hear what they want, so what he's said doesn't really matter, and it's easier to keep people off-balance that way anyway. Keep them guessing. Scott used to listen, but only to some of it, and that stopped a while ago, when Scott started listening to other things instead. Like Allison's heartbeat. Derek's the only one who really listens to the words, he's realized recently, and that's why he gets so irritated at Stiles' rambling. Because he listens.

He doesn't seem to be listening very well once Stiles finishes the first part of what he has to say, instead wolfing out in that very particularly creepy-but-still-kinda-hot way. Stiles still doesn't like being dragged anywhere, and he very much doesn't like being dragged anywhere with claws faintly pricking his arm and the other end of that arm being attached to something with fangs and glowing red eyes. Way too many nightmares start this way, especially after this past summer, and his run-ins with Peter last fall. "Hey, I can still walk," he protests. "Watch the shirt." He's in just as much of a hurry to get inside, but some things he just can't quite do.

It's a little easier when he gets inside and Derek has to change his grip at the very least. Which is good, because the rest of this isn't going to be easy. "At his house, with everyone. Isaac and Allison, his mom. I was supposed to be there, too." And isn't that a terrifying thought. He can't tell what's worse, the fact that he was supposed to be there too, or the fact that they're there right now without him, with no warning at all.

Oh, he's been listening--and Stiles is right, he always listens, because even when the kid just seems to be rambling there's always a point. Always something there. And the others miss a lot of it because... well, they're kind of stupid, actually--he's just reacting to it rather badly. Though it could be worse, considering he's continuing inside rather than turning around and heading down the stairs full speed and wolfed out like he kind of wants to. But he needs a plan. And for that he needs every scrap of information Stiles has.

He does let go of Stiles with an irritated huff once they're inside, though. See? Still listening. Which is why where the low, tense, "shit" comes from once Stiles is done speaking. Because every single person the Alphas have been subtly threatening with their presence is right there within their reach. Everyone but Stiles.

"You said they moved in two weeks ago, when this started?" See him trying to stay rational, gather information and plan, Stiles? Though he's speaking through a mouthful of fangs he's not even trying to will away at the moment. "Have you all been there at once since then?" If they have, then maybe this moment isn't particularly dangerous. Maybe.

Okay, he's not running down the stairs and out the front door, and that's good. That's something. And Derek talking with that mouthful of fangs...isn't actually that creepy. It's actually kind of a relief, that Derek's as worried as Stiles is. He thinks. At least he isn't saying anything about hoping Scott gets himself killed, or leaving him to it, but he didn't expect that from Derek, anyway. Not really. Everyone is Derek's responsibility, whether they know it or not. It's one of the things that makes him such a....well, not necessarily good Alpha, but hell. At least he's got good intentions. He just kind of fails at the follow-through. But he's listening, and he's asking relevant questions, and God that's all Stiles can really ask for right now.

Have they all been there at the same time before? Any time in the last two weeks? He can't remember. Any fall before this one, all the way back at least ten years or so, that answer would have been easy. He always spent Friday afternoons after school with the McCalls, and sometimes Friday nights and Saturday mornings. And Isaac is almost always around, so that part's easy too, and he just takes the twinge of jealousy that gives him and shoves it back in that box with all the rest of that stuff he's not thinking about. It's getting kinda full these days. He's gonna need to upsize. But..."I...think so? But I don't remember. I don't go to Scott's as much these days, but there's got to have been at least one day. You think they're waiting to get us all together, or waiting til we split up? Because I don't know, I don't think they saw me." Not that they'd be looking. There's no reason for the Alphas to go after him. He isn't wolf, he isn't Pack. Right? In lieu of Derek's hand on him, Stiles wraps arms around himself. He can't lose focus now, not when Scott needs him again. The dummy. Even after everything, he's still Stiles' best friend. "But I think...I think that might be where they're keeping Erica and Boyd. It wouldn't make sense to let them out of sight, right? And Scott's mom mentioned a family, so..." So maybe that's all of them right there. Maybe for once, this doesn't have to be impossible.

No matter how pissed off he is at Scott or how little he trusts him Derek would never leave the kid to the Alphas' dubious mercy. The one thing he remembers clearly from his childhood in Beacon Hills is that it was always his family's responsibility to keep the supernatural peace and keep everything in balance. He never really had much of an idea how the adults did it, being included in that would have come later, but it was something his mother had taken very seriously. Protecting the territory, and everyone in it, from supernatural threats was the Alpha's job. It's why Laura had come back, though he hadn't known it at the time, and now that responsibility has passed to him... no matter how epically he sucks at it.

With that in mind he waits impatiently for Stiles to parse through the last two weeks for an answer to his question, and for at least some idea if the others are in immediate danger. He shifts restlessly and has to bite back on a growl. Now t hat he knows where Boyd and Erica are (or at least might be) he wants to go there now, wants to kill anyone who dares to get in his way and bring them home. They might have left, but whatever happened after that the bond between them was never severed and they're still his, he can feel it bone deep.

"Scott's been there alone and you've all been there together and in different combinations, then?" he asks when Stiles is finished, refusing to address the issue of Boyd and Erica's location for the moment, because if he does he won't be able to focus on anything else. "So maybe they're not waiting for anything." Maybe it's just another way to drive home his incompetence--the eventual 'big reveal', when they rub his nose in the fact they've been living right next door to Scott, the renegade who should be his beta but is setting up his own pseudo-pack instead... and suborning a beta of his own making in the process. "Maybe they just really don't expect us to figure it out."

They wouldn't have figured it out, if it weren't for some total fluke, but he doesn't say that. He's getting better at not saying everything that pops into his head, at least around Derek, for much the same reason he tries to be straightforward when answering a question. Derek listens. And Derek takes everything all the way to heart. It isn't entirely his fault. They all suck at this, they're all totally new and have no idea what they're doing. They're just kids. Even Derek.

"We should tell Scott." The words seem unconnected to anything, but there's context, he swears. "If we're going to do this, we need to tell him. If he isn't with us, and he doesn't know, he's just collateral, or going to get in the way." Or assume Derek is doing something horrible, because Scott has some sort of weird rage boner when it comes to Derek. Stiles really doesn't get it. But...Scott's never been the most rational of dudes. "And honestly, if we're taking on an entire alpha pack...we could probably use the help." Because he so obviously isn't getting left out of this. He owes Erica, in some vague, malleable kind of way, a faint sense of guilt nudging at his spleen, or something equally squishy and uncomfortable. It doesn't matter just how human and breakable he is. That's all there is to it.

It's probably part of the reason the Alpha's chose the location--the knowledge that, even if Derek patrols the general area, he never actually goes within a block of Scott's house. If Stiles hadn't been paying attention at just the right--or wrong--time they never would have known, unless and until the Alphas chose to rub his nose in it.

He scowls at Stiles' insistence they tell Scott, his claws itching under his skin, but... Stiles is right. "Fine. But he either gets the hell out of the way or he does what he's told." It's not quite a snarl, but there's definitely no question of backing down on this point. Though he doesn't actually trust Scott to keep his promise even if he agrees to the terms, the kid's too damn self-righteous to actually accept that he needs to follow anyone else's rules. "I can't protect him if he fucks up and gets in the way." It doesn't even occur to him to demand that Stiles stay behind... which is probably a problem, but not one that occurs to him at the moment. Later, maybe, but not now.

It's probably a good idea he doesn't actually say the words 'Stiles, you're right' out loud. While his fragile teenage ego could probably use the boost, he gets far enough ahead of himself as it is, especially when he's got a plan. It's a flaw he's still coming to terms with, still fighting, that his plans always tend to go a bit awry. They're good plans, he swears, just...something always seems to go wrong. That good old Stilinski luck.

Words or no words, he looks relieved when Derek agrees. If he hadn't, this all would have been so much harder. Scott would have known Derek was nearby, even if Stiles had come up with some brilliant plan to get him out of the way for the night, and stacking two plans into one was just begging for trouble. There's a part of Stiles that hopes this can be a way for Scott and Derek to bury the hatchet and play nice, a part of him that realizes Derek is becoming, or possibly has already become, a definite part of his life. Before the Erica and Boyd thing part II, after the Great Fairy Debacle, he'd just...drop by. For no reason, really, even though there was usually some lame reason given. It'd be nice if these two bizarre parts of his other life could reconcile. All of his life is a little much to hope for, but this...

"Okay, good. So, um. I'm going back. And I'll talk to them. Dad's working all overnights this weekend. Tomorrow night, my place? I'll get Scott and Isaac there, and we can make a plan. Get them before they move on to whatever the next step of their plan is, get them back." Before anything else happens to Erica and Boyd. Please God.

And that's pretty much exactly why he agreed--if they don't tell Scott he'll probably just manage to get in the way with no idea what the hell he's getting into. This way, at least, there's a chance he won't do something stupid. Or, you know, a chance he'll do something incredibly stupid behind their backs. Which is part of the reasons Derek freezes when Stiles goes on.

"Tomorrow night? And what do you mean you're going back? To Scott's house? With the Alphas right next door?" Are you surprised he's not happy about this, Stiles? "How about texting them-" Not calling, because christ knows if the Alphas are listening in at Scott's house. It wouldn't be hard. "And getting them to your house tonight." To give Scott that much less time to go try and cook up some dumbass plan to stab him in the back with Deaton.

"Yes, go back. Dude, I have to. I can't just leave them there." He isn't surprised, exactly, by Derek's attitude. It is a dumb idea, but he can't not. They need someone paranoid enough to keep an eye out, and he can't exactly just clear them out. He was just there. A text is just bound to make them suspicious, anyway, and when they get suspicious, they turn into the frigging Scooby Gang. All jokes aside, he's beginning to think he's less Fred and more Scooby.

But Derek is right, even if he isn't saying all of what he's worried about out loud. The more time Scott has to think about things, the more time he has to come up with some brilliant idea that gets someone killed, or at least seriously traumatized. See also his last 'brilliant idea.' Fortunately (God, is that the right word?), he's gotten good at lying to everyone over the last few years, and spending time with Derek and Scott both has taught him the fine art of misdirection. Half-truths don't count as lies on the wolf lie detector, apparently, not as long as you believe what you're saying. And then immediately change the subject. Again, good at that.

"I won't tell them anything tonight. If I do, Scott's going to get all of us killed by charging in headfirst. I'll just keep a lookout, and get him to my place tomorrow. We can't do this tonight, we need a plan. Besides, it's not like they'll be looking for me, right? Not a wolf and all."

His manic smile feels forced, even to him.

Derek paces away at Stiles' continued insistence that he's going back. It's bad enough that the Alpha Pack has two of his betas in their control, that they have another one of them right next door where they can lay hands on him at any time, to let Stiles go back, so close, where anything could happen and there's not a damn thing he could do about it, seems to be pushing every button he has.

But of course Stiles wants to go. Of course he wants to protect the others. The strangest thing here is probably that Derek's not even questioning that having him there actually would be an asset to the others. What has him rounding back on Stiles with a snarl is the boy's last words. "Are you really stupid enough to think they don't care about you? That they don't know you're important?" Because there's no way they can not.

The surprise on his face is obvious when Derek turns on him. Important? He's not important. They've been going after wolves, after all. Taking Erica and Boyd, moving in next to Scott, it's silly to think they'd pay attention to him. It's not like anyone really has, pretty much ever.

Except Derek came for him when he went missing, he thinks again, and despite the immediate frustration that's his response to being yelled at, there's a little part of him that's actually pleased. "I'm not stupid. They've been targeting the wolves around here, in case you hadn't noticed. Your house, Scott's house, Erica and Boyd. Nobody's done anything about Alison, even though she's part of this mess, too. So I think it's pretty safe to assume I'm not a target, just collateral," he snaps back, that little muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth. "And I have to go back, anyway. Unless you want something stupid happening with them?" He knows it's bound to happen.

Derek huffs in exasperation and scowls at Stiles. "They've been targeting me and what's mine. Or should be." Erica and Boyd, his betas. Scott, who should have been his, if not for his stubborn refusal. That leaves Isaac, who's probably still his in name only... and Stiles who's more his than any of the rest have ever been, whether he realizes it, wants it, or not.

"They don't care about Alison because she's not important to me." His scowl deepens and he turns away, because he's not going to say it, Stiles can figure it out for himself.

Stiles has always been pretty crap at causality problems. If/thens are definitely not his strong suit, so it takes him a minute to work through it. If Alison isn't a target because she doesn't personally matter to Derek, then Stiles is a target because...oh. Well, all things considered, it shouldn't be as much of a surprise as it is. Still, it takes him a minute to really process, but when it finally sinks in he can't quite hide the surprised, pleased expression on his face. Good thing Derek isn't looking to see that.

It doesn't change things, Stiles tells himself. They still have to do something about the alpha pack, he still has to go back to Scott's. It's just nice to know he matters. At least a little. The fact that it's Derek saying it... well, that he'll process later. "It doesn't change the fact that I have to go back," he finally says, mollified just a little. Finally calm, or at least calmer. "I'll be careful. And if anything happens, I'll call." It's a little stupidly hard to resist the urge to try and take Derek with him. It just feels more... something. Jingling his keys in his hand, he waits a minute longer, not sure how to just leave. It feels like he should say something.

Derek doesn't watch while Stiles works out his meaning, but he can smell the change in his scent and he turns back in time to catch the look of surprise on the boy's face. It makes him wonder just what he'd thought before, though, how hard it is for him to believe that he matters to someone... and how the hell he managed to do something so stupid as to let a human become important to him. Stiles is, though, and considering the current threat it would be stupid not to make that clear... ish.

Derek's scowl deepens at the kid's repeated insistence that he has to go back, when all he wants is to get everyone the hell out of there and away from danger. There's no telling when the Alpha Pack will decide to make their move, and almost everyone in that house is associated him in some way. A valuable warning or hostage. "You'll dial my number into your phone before you leave, so all you need to do is hit one button to call me. And I'll be close by." Not close enough for the Alphas to hear or scent, which means not close enough for him to hear or scent Stiles, but at least close enough he can respond quickly.

He doesn't know why he's so surprised, really. Derek's been coming by a lot, and not just to make sure he hasn't ended up getting pod-peopled again. He hounds Stiles about his homework, bitches about his taste in music, reads comics when he thinks Stiles isn't looking. It's almost comfortable. He guesses he just wasn't thinking past that. He's been doing a lot of that lately, actually going out of his way to not think about what things mean. But mattering to someone else isn't something he's ever been good at registering. Really, his entire life and self-value are more or less defined by what he does for other people. Without Stiles, his dad would just work forever and eat nothing but double-bacon-bypass-burgers and be dead of a heart attack by fifty. Without Stiles, Scott would never have gone out for lacrosse, would never have passed eighth grade English, would never have gone into the preserve and ended up a werewolf... okay, maybe that's a bad example. But he's nearly positive that without him, Derek would forget what it's like to be human, and that's not okay. It's good that he matters. It is.

"I already have you on speed dial," Stiles answers brightly, holding up his phone and showing Derek the illuminated screen. Number two, right next to his dad's cell. It says something about how important the older man has become. Or maybe just about how much trouble Stiles gets into. "So, no worries, right? Except all the worries. You know what I mean. I'll call if anything shows up. Or if anything weird happens. Or... you know." He stops his babbling with an effort, knowing if he starts now he's never going to be able to stay cool for Scott, and that's important for making this work.

Derek doesn't know why he's surprised to be on Stiles' speed dial, though he feels justified in his surprise at being number two. If he'd considered he'd have expected to be... he's not actually sure, now that he does think about it. Certainly behind Scott as well as the Sheriff. Maybe Lydia and Allison as well, though he has to admit he's not sure if Stiles has had much to do with either of ty hem lately.

"All right." And when he settles a hand firmly on Stiles' shoulder it's definitely only to stem the tide of babble. "Any sign of trouble, though, anything even remotely weird, and you call. If you think it's too dangerous to let the call connect just let it ring once and drop the call. I'll come."

Scott's been number nine on his speed dial since he got his first cell phone, thanks to a long-running and not so funny to anyone else joke. Lydia he doesn't have an excuse to keep on speed dial yet, sadly, and Alison... Alison finally made it onto his speed dial three months ago because he finally admitted defeat in the battle for any time with Scott and she's more likely to answer than his supposed best friend when the two of them are together. He's not sure if it's sad or just appropriate that the number two on his list after knee-jerk dad reaction is a surly, taciturn wolfman who's just as likely to slap him upside the head for getting into trouble as he is to rescue him. Probably both. Also weird that he trusts Derek to do the latter, always. Almost as weird as the fact that that touch to his shoulders does wonders to take away the last of the panic, and he feels this bizarre urge to touch Derek's hand. Cling, more like, kind of like a safety blanket, which is totally not manly or adult or probably okay.

So instead, he just takes a deep breath, letting most of the tension out of his shoulders, and looks up at Derek for a moment. Dark eyes meet green ones and after a long moment Stiles nods. "I know you will. It'll be okay. We'll be okay. They don't know I noticed, and I still have to pass this Chem test, and Harris still hates me, so... going now. I'll call you later when I get home." To report and give Derek a meeting time. And okay, maybe to let him know he's okay. Maybe that matters too.

Derek looks steadily back, not moving his hand away as he feels the tension ease from Stiles' shoulders and his scent goes at least a little less anxious and distressed. "The second you get home. And don't hesitate to call, even if you're not sure something's wrong. Don't take stupid risks." Because if anyone's going to do something stupid it's only marginally less likely to be Stiles than Scott. "And don't say anything while you're there, they're probably listening to everything."

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for meanttobeabeta: October 2013

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