Derek appears a couple days later while Stiles is goofing off playing minesweeper and Danny’s working his way through the English algorithm data. Stiles rolls his eyes and pauses his game. Danny closes the lid of his computer. He watches Derek stalk about the room from his vantage in the middle of Stiles’ bed. This is the first time Danny’s seen the guy since he learned the truth. Derek seems less intimidating than Danny had imagined, kind of lost.
“Have you found anything useful?” Derek completes his circuit of the room and glares at Stiles from near the door.
“No ‘hey, thanks for doing this really cool thing that makes my life so much better’?”
Derek points at Danny. “He’s doing all the work. You’re riding coattails.”
“Derek, meet Danny--who is way too awesome to put up with your crap, by the way. Danny meet Derek, who is eternally grateful. And also mean.”
“We’ve met,” Derek and Danny say in unison. Well, that’s a good start. Danny smiles at Derek a little. Derek dials down the frown.
“Oh no, you’re not going to gang up on me and be instant bffs! That is not going to happen! I was here first. Remember the pool when you start having fond thoughts about Danny.” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest as if he’s actually pouting. As Danny watches him he can feel his eyebrows furrowing.
“Whatever.” Derek clearly has no time for Stiles being Stiles. “Did you find anything or not?”
“Not. We’re in early days here. Also, I’ll thank Scott for running to you behind my back. He’s a thunder stealer.”
“Call me when you find something.” Derek exits through the window.
“FINE!” Stiles yells at his back.
“You’re just as rude as he is, you know.” Danny lifts one eyebrow.
Stiles groans. “You can’t be on his side. You’re my boyfriend. That means even if I’m irrational, you have to side with me. Especially when it’s Derek. Derek has a whole pack to take his side.” He pauses and opens his eyes wide. The effect mimes sincerity or is sincere, Danny can’t tell which. “Ok?”
“Yeah, ok,” Danny says before he even realizes it.
“After I send this scathing text to Mr. Betrayal, it’s time for pizza rolls. You in?”
“You need to eat better.” Danny responds, because he’s being thinking Stiles eachs too much convenience food.
When he looks up again Stiles is watching him with his mouth open.
Coach is being even more unreasonable lately, packing in extra practices, mumbling to himself about soldiers. Danny’s running on fumes, which is why he doesn’t even raise his head from his pillow when Stiles bops into his bedroom.
“I know we agreed that Etsy was off the table since dreamcatchers--what is that all about, right?” He bounces down on the bed and flips open his laptop. “But check this shit out!”
Danny doesn’t bother to roll away from Stiles’ leg pressing into his shoulder. “Just read it to me.” He doesn’t even open his eyes.
“Whoa, you look wiped. You want me to get you a Monster or something? Don’t you have to tutor Greenberg later so Coach doesn’t eat his liver? Strike that. Imagery. Nooooooo. Why do I do stuff like...”
“What did you find?” Stiles needs directing when he starts down the drain like that.
Stiles jostles Danny a little in his enthusiasm. He smells like turpentine (Danny’s not asking). “I was thinking about all those weird threads you found on that Angie’s List post and askes myself if I was a practitioner of the dark arts and I was a little strapped for rent this month, what would I do?”
Stiles’ voice is lulling Danny into that between sleep and wakefulness state where everything’s safe and content.
“I decided to kamikazi it and buy some potions and spells. What’s the worst that could happen? I end up with some kickass potpourri that’s what. I noodled around and the first several stores just wanted my paypal info and address. But THEN this one chick started private messaging me all these sketchy questions. What phase of the moon was I born in. What did I eat for lunch last Thursday. If it had been my shoe size, I would have just chalked it up to her being a creeper...”
He breaks off. “Are you asleep, man?”
“No,” Danny manages to croak out.
“Anyway, eventually II answered something wrong, and she shut me down pdq. But I think there’s something to go on, am I right? Of course I’m right.”
Danny hears Stiles clicking away at the keyboard. When he wakes back up, he’s covered by the triangle of his duvet he’s not laying on. It’s dark and he’s oddly lonely.
The next day at school, Isaac approaches him in the hallway before Chem.
“Hey,” Isaac says.
“Hey,” Danny replies.
That out of the way, Danny hopes this is quick because he has to slip Jackson his homework to copy.
“Derek wants to know how the stuff is going.” Isaac’s gotten better at acting casual, he scratches at his nose and looks down the hallway with a bored expression.
“We’re talking a lot of data here.” Danny feels slightly harassed.
Stiles and Scott pass them. As they do, Stiles runs a finger down the back of Danny’s arm where the veins stand out. He smiles up at him as he taps Danny’s palm once to punctuate the move.
Scott rolls his eyes and grabs Isaac by the back of his shirt. “Dude, you gotta tell Derek not to summon you or whatever in the middle of Skyping. It’s creepy!”
Danny shakes his head and wonders yet again how he didn’t clue into all this before. He smiles at Stiles as he passes, though. Jackson rolls his eyes.
“I have a full moon ritual,” Stiles announces as they snack on cantaloupe. Clearly he took that advice to heart. “I hide in my room until something really fucked up happens and I end up out in the scary woods or in Derek’s scary lair or knocked out. Or whatever.”
“Can we just watch Fringe instead?” Danny suggests.
Scott calls just then, so Danny does the whole ‘I’m inches away but I’m totally not listening’ thing, because they’re on Stiles’ bed. He pretends intense interest in Reddit.
“And you have powerade and tegaderm? Danny wants to know how Jackson is. Yes, he’s here. HAHA. How do I even know you? We’re going to watch Fringe so unless it’s, you know...yeah, life or death. Be careful.”
Danny looks up. He’d already talked to Jackson (as much as it was possible), but it’s nice Stiles thought about that. “Jackson’s freaking out, but Scott thinks Derek has it under control. And, yes, I know how much that exactly doesn’t mean at all.”
“When’s your dad gonna be home?” Danny’s mostly laying down, shoulders and head supported by all the pillows. Stiles looks down from where he’s leaning against the headboard with his thinking face. Danny’s stomach flips as all the implications of his question smash into him.
“He’s not. He’s pulling a double because Angie had her baby.” His eyes don’t leave Danny’s face. Danny doesn’t do awkward. He has no reason to because he thinks about what he does and says beforehand and takes other people’s humanness into consideration. Awkward has arrived in Danny’s life.
He hasn’t exactly hidden that he’s attracted, but he hasn’t been flirting (on purpose) either. Stiles is too smart for his own good, a forest for the trees guy sometimes.
“Ok!” Stiles hops off the bed and hits a couple buttons on his phone. “We’re having pizza and I don’t want to hear your crazy talk.”
Danny sighs and shrugs.
They watch Fringe. There are no middle of the night calls. Danny doesn’t regret cockblocking himself too much because he doesn’t want to make Stiles weirder than he already is.
The big problem with Stiles (the main one) is that Danny really doesn’t get what’s going on his head regarding this dating situation. Danny is still a teenager. He isn’t always great about expressing his feelings if there’s a risk of emotional trauma. Everyone fears getting laughed at for making the wrong assumptions. They aren’t really dating, right?
Just jumping in there and talking it out feels like the wrong approach.
If he’s going to crash and burn, he’s going to do it spectacularly.
Them leaving practice together feels natural now. Scott’s with Isaac and Jackson’s wrapped up in Lydia. Stiles needs to go back to his locker to get a notebook. He’s monologuing about different varieties of mint as he roots about looking for the notebook he wants and Danny’s only half listening. He has his back to Danny, his hair porcupine spikes, still more wet than damp. There’s a one inch strip of skin between his hairline and plaid shirt.
Danny leans down and kisses right there, that little bit of skin. Stiles squeaks, but he doesn’t round on him or scream. So Danny glides an open palm across Stiles’ belly and kisses behind his ear, one of the moles that have been screaming for it while Danny restrained himself.
Stiles reaches back to grab Danny’s free hand, he twists their fingers together and sighs. They stand there for several long seconds. A door bangs somewhere near the cafeteria and they break apart.
Stiles turns around. Danny doesn’t back out of Stiles’ personal bubble. But it’s Stiles that kisses him. A slow pressing of his open mouth over Danny’s, a tiny flick of his tongue on Danny’s top lip. He steps back, his face pink and mouth wet.
Stiles rubs his palms on his jeans. “Let’s skedaddle.”
Danny’s laughing as Stiles yanks him by a belt loop towards the parking lot.
Stiles is all tentative touches, fingers slipping under the hem of Danny’s t-shirt and mouth pressed under his chin, as they stand by Stiles’ closed bedroom door.
Stiles’ irises catch the light from the window, amber. His face is as serious as Danny has ever seen. “Are you sure?” And it shouldn’t be Stiles asking that.
“Are you?” Danny tries to make the question as soft-edged as he can. He’s not judging either way.
That snaps Stiles out of the quiet daze he’s been in. His fierce face snaps in place, and he snatches at Danny’s shirt to shove him over to the bed. He leans over Danny as Danny kicks off his shoes and whispers in his ear. “I’ve been waiting.” The words tumble down Danny’s spine out to his fingers and toes.
He leans his head back and Stiles is there, his mouth open, tongue against Danny’s teeth; his tongue. He falls into Danny’s lap and rides him down onto the bed. Danny gets a hand under Stiles’ shirts and scratches his nails down his spine. That gets a thrust of Stiles’ hips and a broken kiss so Stiles can gasp.
This is Stiles’ show. Danny came into this knowing that. Maybe it will always be that way between them; he doesn’t know yet.
Suddenly Stiles is rolling to his feet. He kicks off his shoes. Stiles’ plaid shirt goes flying into a corner as he flops back on the bed. Danny watches him over his shoulder with a questioning eyebrow up.
“Stop being cool and come over here.” Stiles waves and Danny obeys. They press front to front in the middle of the bed. Stiles hooks a foot over Danny’s leg and holds on with his bare toes. They stare at each other.
Stiles sighs and shoves Danny over to lay across his chest. “Don’t make this weird.” His tone is so normal, a little annoyed, a little fond. Danny starts laughing. Stiles smiles back.“Yeah, jokes and touching. Let’s do that.” His mouth skims Danny’s neck and a hand lands in Danny’s hair. Danny instinctively twists his hips to get Stiles’ pressed against his fly.
Stiles has a neck thing. “No hickeys,” Danny wishes that had come out as anything near commanding. He has enough problems without having to deal with those looks and jokes.
“You have a boyfriend, dude.” Stiles punctuates that by biting his earlobe.
Then Stiles’ mouth is back on his and Danny doesn’t really care about tomorrow.
Loud coughing startles him. But not as much as Stiles, who bounces off the bed to his feet as smooth as a gymnast.
Danny closes his eyes instead of looking at the Sheriff.
“I was hoping to avoid this conversation. For all our sakes. Five minutes, downstairs.”
Alex never came around to Danny’s place if he could avoid it, so Danny’d managed to avoid the horror of The Talk with his own parents. Danny thinks Stiles would rather have had a no closed doors and no visiting when his dad was out plan instituted rather than have to the full STD/condom use/sexual intimidation talk.
He has a series of texts from Stiles when he gets home.
You LEFT me here with him? So much suck.
grt scott coming over he smells things
Danny laughs imagining Scott’s face.
Danny settles in for an hour with Rosetta Stone. He’s up to the second level work.
“Yes?” Danny tries for dry and can’t because of the laughter he can’t suppress.
“I’m traumatized for life.”
Danny leans back in his chair. “I thought Scott was coming over.”
“That was, like, hours ago. You must be latining.” He sighs. “You’re making me look bad here! I’m getting nowhere with Gaelic.”
“Latin’s more promising, so don’t sweat it.” He means it, but he also doesn’t mind giving Stiles an excuse.
“Yeah,” Stiles says in a soft voice.
Danny climbs onto his bed, on top of the covers, and cuts the lamp off.
They talk on the phone until Stiles’ phone goes dead. Danny falls asleep in his clothes soon afterwards.
Lydia slots in beside him as he’s walking to English the next day.
“Lyd,” he smiles down at her.
She examines his face for a couple of long seconds before he asks, “So, Latin?”
She makes one of her dismissive noises. “I’m sure you’ll manage. I’ll email you some stuff.”
And he’s suddenly on his own as she bounces down the hall away from him. Or not so much because Stiles is holding his elbow and pulling both of them into the classroom.
“Hi,” Stiles with bright eyes, his cheeks nearly fuchsia..
There’re only a couple of other students in the room. No teacher. Danny swipes a thumb over one of Stiles’ cheeks to see if the skin feels hot. “What’re you so excited about?”
Stiles smiles, just a tiny curve of the left corner of his mouth. “Puh-shah, if I was it wouldn’t have anything to do with you or anything. Because you’re boring and sort of plain looking. No, definitely about how into 19th century poetry I am.” He tosses his backpack on his normal desk. Danny sits next to him instead of in the back corner.
Stiles sits with them at lunch. Jackson makes a face like someone farted, but he doesn’t say anything. Serious personal development. Because Stiles is with them, Scott joins as well. This is crossing a line for Jackson.
“What the fuck? Are we all just one, big happy family now?”
Allison plunks her try next to Lydia.
Stiles says “Not a happy family” as Lydia says “Yes, deal with it.”
Danny presses his leg against Stiles’ when Isaac sits down next to Scott. Stiles answers by laying a hand lightly on his knee. Danny doesn’t react because Jackson’s watching him with an eyebrow up. Stiles’ fingernails lift the edge of the inside seam of his jeans over and over, a small fidget that makes Danny smile.
“What?” Jackson barks.
“Did you go off your meds again?” Danny teases him.
“Haha.” He runs a hand through his hair. His shoulders relax. “You should come to the meeting tonight.”
Everyone but Jackson and Danny tenses up in unison. Stiles digs his fingers into Danny’s leg.
Danny shrugs one shoulder and chews the slice of orange in his mouth. “If you want.”
Jackson smiles, the one that looks smug to everyone else but Danny knows covers the fact that he’s unsure, brazening things out so he doesn’t look weak.
The meeting’s at seven, on the other side of town, of course.
Danny’s doing his flipping Econ homework, Coach must be psychic when it comes to the wrong days to assign make-work projects. His door snicks open. He’s on his feet and grabbing Stiles by his t-shirt immediately.
“Ok, ok, good, I thought maybe you’d be busy,” Stiles babbles as Danny undoes the buttons on his overshirt. The words stop,, though, and grabs the back of Danny’s head to get their mouths together. Danny shoves the shirt down Stiles arms as his tongue is sucked into Stiles mouth.
When Stiles is free of his shirt, he presses forward so Danny blindly walks backwards until his knees hit the bed and they tumble together in a knot of grabbing hands and shoes flying off. Danny gasps in a shocked breath when Stiles just goes for it, feeling Danny up through the front of his jeans. He flops on his back and Stiles straddles him.
“Do we need to talk like my dad wants? Because I can chill, back off or whatever, but I’m really enthusiastic to get near your dick. If that’s ok.” Stiles leans down to lick at Danny’s open mouth. Danny answers him by rubbing knuckles against Stiles’ fly.
“Kiss me,” Danny moans when Stiles starts thrusting against him with intent. The rhythm’s so steady, perfect, that Danny will reevaluate Stiles’ virginity later. Stiles pulls Danny’s lower lip into his mouth. He sucks hard enough Danny’ll have to avoid his family tonight.
Danny manages to hold Stiles still long enough to at least get their flies open, their underwear at least partially out of the way for skin on skin. He’s shaking, his balls drawing up, and Stiles keeps moaning, this naked, desperate wordless sound that hits Danny in the small of his back.
Danny comes when Stiles starts sucking the thin skin behind his ear. He faintly registers Stiles babbling, “oh god, did you, Danny” and his hips still finally with a rush of wet heat on Danny’s stomach.
They lay like that until they get their breath back, then longer when Stiles starts kissing him again.
Danny brushes a hand over the soft stubble of Stiles hair. He doesn’t want to get up, but it’s bound to be at least six, and they’ll need to swing by the Stilinski’s so Stiles can change.
Stiles flings himself over onto his back dramatically. “Fuck Derek.” He rolls off the bed. “Where’re your tissues?” Danny points to the desk. “Please please let Dad be grocery shopping or at the VFW when we get there.”
Danny dusts himself off, changes his clothes. Stiles watches him, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. Not in the same circumstances, but they’ve been casually naked together before.
Derek has a lair. Danny shouldn’t be surprised, but he sort of is. He imagined Derek tucked into a track home hatching his plans from a converted basement full of second-hand furniture with a flat screen tv on the wall. He drives a pretty expensive car.
“You should have been coming to meetings since you found out the truth,” Derek says in greeting. Danny just lifts his eyebrows in response.
“Well, maybe you should have invited him, did you think of that?” Stiles is right there in front of Danny immediately, putting himself physically between Danny and the deadly predator. Danny doesn’t sigh, but just barely.
Derek cocks his head and his frown deepens. “He had to make up his own mind. I can’t decide for him whether he wants this.”
That sounds pretty reasonable to Danny. Stiles sputters, though. Danny grabs his hand and Stiles looks over his shoulder at him. It’s fine, Danny mouths.
“Can we get this shit over with? I need to stick to my workout routine.” Jackson hops up on a table and swings his legs. Lydia stands next to him with her arms crossed over her chest, but she spares Danny a smile. Danny wonders what it means that Boyd and Erica keep their distance from him. Isaac bounces a pingpong ball against the wall rhythmically.
Scott rushes into the room, hand in his hair, lop-sided smile on his face. “Sorry I’m late. Dr. Deaton was showing me how to work the x-ray machine. It’s really cool.”
Derek snarls in Scott’s general direction. “The Alpha pack have gone to ground. You all need to be very careful.” Danny thinks he sounds pained. He also doesn’t know why Scott got singled out for snarling.
“What do we need to look out for?” Lydia watches Derek with open interest. This must be a safe space for her, because she’s not faking anything.
“We’ve hit a dead end on Jackson’s parents.” Derek ignores Lydia completely, something she’s not at all used to. That makes Danny feel bad on her behalf. “Wher’re we with the internet search?” No segue there. Danny figures Derek doesn’t use a lot of padding words like pleasantries.
Derek’s looking at Danny. Stiles frowns so hard it might stick. “Go ahead,” Danny tells him.
Stiles gives him a small smile. “There’s a network of websites in Latin that look legit. There’s a lot of apocalypse talk, recipe exchanges that are probably spells, there’s this one really cool alchemy clearing house--as far as we can tell. Lydia’s coming in as a consultant so we’ll know more soon. Maybe we’ll luck onto something.” He pauses and turns to Scott. “What did Deaton say?”
Scott’s face falls. “Not much. He says he’s internet illiterate.”
“That guy’s not hiding anything at all,” Stiles whines.
“He’s all we have right now.” Derek dismisses Stiles again. Danny isn’t loving that.
“Not anymore,” Lydia tosses her hair over her shoulder and winks at Danny and Stiles.
“Yeah, whatever. You don’t have anything yet.” Derek dismisses her.
“Yet,” Lydia echoes.
Danny gets engrossed on a site he thought was cosplay at first. He hacked the code to get to the locked pictures and the more he stares at the prosthetics the more real they seem. Horns and wings mostly, but in all different varieties. Some fairy-like whispy wings, some membranous fluttery wings. The horns are mostly nubbins high up near the hairline, but a couple pairs are full-on ram things.
His phone busses. Wanna come over? He smiles down at the message. When does he not? He texts this sentiment.
His dad’s bent over his computer, light reflecting off of his glasses, as Danny swings through the living room. “Going to Stiles’.”
“The Sheriff should charge you rent.” He waves in Danny’s direction but doesn’t look up.
Danny feels the grin on his face, the tightness in the pit of his stomach that’s started warning him that he’s in this werewolves situation--in with Stiles--with both feet and he’s not minding at all. He hits the button to unlock his car and his hand doesn’t make it to the handle.
“...how did that work out for you?” Derek snarls the words more than speaks them. “What part of be careful is too difficult for you to understand?”
Danny startles awake with that eerie falling to consciousness sensation. His limbs don’t respond right when he tries to lift his arms. His eyelids flutter open. He’s looking up into some kind of gloom. The ceiling’s too high to see.
“Dude, I am so pissed off right now! Do you know how mad I am? Do you?” Stiles seems to be ok, so things are looking up. “I’m madder than I was when you swirled the blue and yellow play-dough together! That’s how epically pissed I am.” Most of this rant is shouted, but the end trails off to almost a whisper. Danny assumes Stiles is talking to Scott, but Scott doesn’t reply.
“He’s awake,” Derek leans over Danny.
Stiles is suddenly there, eye black and fingerprints on his throat. He touches Danny’s face, fingers fluttering everywhere. “Hey, hi. That’s you laying there with your eyes open.” He looks more stressed than Danny’s ever seen.
“I feel weird,” Danny’s throat strains against the words.
“Pain meds. Possibly animal pain meds, still not clear on that.” Stiles runs a hand over the top of Danny’s head.
The next face in his line of sight is Jackson. Who’s smiling. His real, huge, clear smile of genuine happiness. Danny tries to smile back, but he doesn’t know if he manages. “Dude, you got bit.”
“By what?” Danny asks. Later he will blame the meds, for now he lets sleep tug him back under again.
Danny wakes up the second time in the middle of a huge fight among everyone else. He’s laying on a surprisingly comfortable couch. Stiles has his head in his lap and he’s word vomiting all over Danny.
Stiles’ black eye and neck damage happened when they came for him. Whoever Them, the Alphas, are. Scott was there, so there an actual fight for Stiles. Danny decides the buddy system needs to be utilized more in Beacon Hills. At least Stiles was relatively safe, nothing broken, no concussion. No werewolf bite.
Derek seems less upset that Danny was bitten than pissed off no one’s following his orders about safety precautions.
“Why’re they picking on the humans?” Scott looks baffled and his question is half whine. “What if they go for Allison next?”
Derek ignores the second question. He runs a hand through his hair. “To destabilize the pack. Now there are two wolves in this pack with a different alpha. If Stiles had taken the bite that would be four potential alphas who could vie for your loyalty.”
“Peter can’t,” Scott shot out with heat Danny doesn’t understand.
“That’s why they let us go?” Erica frowns. “We were already wolves?”
“Wow, thanks for the heads up, man! That wasn’t important to know at all!” Stiles jostles Danny because he talks as much with his body as his voice. He’s not had a helpful or unsarcastic thing to say to anyone but Danny since Danny woke up.
Derek stares Stiles down for a couple seconds that become really tense, Scott suddenly on his feet and Jackson sitting up straighter, Isaac touching the back of Erica’s hand. Derek’s eyebrow goes up. “You want to take him home now.”
Danny feels the command in his bones. He wonders if he’s already changing or if Derek being done with Stiles for the night is that acute.
“Yes,” Stiles flutters down at Danny until Jackson comes to help with the walk to the car.
“This is cool, seriously,” Jackson whispers around a huge smile. Danny rolls his eyes. He feels like he’s dealing with the world from behind bubblewrap.
“Maybe it won’t take,” Stiles says for the nth time. They’re skipping school--something Danny has done rarely. They’re laying side by side on Stiles’ bed because Danny didn’t feel like being in his own house.
Danny watches Stiles scrolling through eBay agitatedly. “Would it be so bad if it did?”
Stiles startles, knocking into Danny’s good side, mouth opening and closing. He deflates suddenly. He rubs his eyes. “Do you mean is it a deal-breaker? Have you met my best friend? It’s just. You didn’t ask for this, and...” He trails off.
“It’s all your fault?” Danny elbows him softly. “Because it’s so not.” Danny’s not a blamer. Things happen. You deal with it. But more than that, Stiles never asked for any of this. It just happened to him, too.
Stiles looks at him from under his eyelashes. “Of course you’re going to tell me it’s not. Because that’s who you are. That’s what you do.”
Danny cuts him off by covering Stiles’ mouth with his hand. “One thing at a time, ok? Lets see if it takes.”
Stiles closes his computer and wraps himself around Danny. He sighs. Not freaking out completely will have to do for now.
The situation is so overwhelming that Danny is hovering on the other side of dealing. Mostly Stiles is so wretch that Danny wants to project a totally cool with this vibe so that Stiles will chill out. He’s learned over the years that when you project something hard enough you tend to internalize it after a while.
The biggest issue Danny’s having right now is lying to his family. He knows that’ll change, that what’s happened will intrude in a way where he’ll have to restructure his entire life.. But for now he feels a lot like he did when he had to stay in Beacon Hills for lacrosse camp when his family went home to the Big Island to visit. Lonely without them.
Danny snoozes cocooned in a threadbare quilt on Stiles’ bed most of the day. He eats the chicken and stars soup Stiles foists on him.
“Let me look at the bite.” Stiles pushes Danny’s collar to the side to peel at the tape along the edges of the bandage. Danny places his hand over Stiles’ and looks up at him. Their hands are heavy on the ball of his shoulder, but there’s no pain.
Stiles sits back on his feet.
When Danny peels the bandage way there’s only unbroken skin and flakes of dried blood.
“You can freak out,” Danny tells him. It’s probably just better to give Stiles his moment.
Stiles throws his hands in the air. “Why aren’t you freaking out? Huh? Because, hello, big life change here!”
Danny hasn’t even processed this yet. He only has a rudimentary idea of what to expect. Jackson isn’t exactly the sharing type.
Danny reaches up to touch the finger marks on Stiles’ throat. Stiles’ adams apple bobs. “It could have been worse, basically. I’m alive.” He pauses, reaches for Stiles’ black eye, not too bad, just bruised in a half moon under his left eye. “You’re alive.”
Stiles deflates and crashes down on top of him. “How are you even real?” They tangle up together, Stiles kissing the side of Danny’s mouth where it curls up into a smile.
There’s a loud series of raps on the door. Stiles acts like he’s going to ignore it, his hand sliding into Danny’s hair until the Sheriff shouts “STILES, NOW!”
With sighs and dragging feet Stiles stumbles to the door and flings it open.
The Sheriff has his mouth open to let off some rapid fire ranting but catches himself when he gets a look at his son. He braces one hand on the doorframe. “Ok. I came up here to address your truancy and remind you that you’re not above the law. But those,” he points at Stiles’ neck. “Are not lacrosse bruises. I thought we’d already discussed safe, sane, and consensual. Round Two downstairs, five.”
Danny buries his face in the quilt to mask his laughter.
“So he thinks you did this. Danny, quit laughing! My dad thinks we’re into breathplay and that you’re the one on top. My life sucks so hard!”
Derek isn’t so bad one on one. He’s not glaring or snarling, which is an improvement. They’re sitting cross-legged across from each other on the floor of the warehouse. The floor seemed clean enough, but Danny’s not going to intensely analyse any patches.
“The change hurts. It’ll get better, and you’ll heal immediately, but it hurts.”
Danny had opted for Derek over Scott for this, after some grumbling from Stiles. But even he had to admit in the end that Derek knew more.
“Are you going to chain me up?” This is what always happened on tv, but The Vampire Diaries isn’t exactly a documentary.
“I can. Or I can contain you while you figure out a focus that will let you control your wolf. The pack can contain you.” Maybe Derek seems so much more approachable because he’s wearing sweats and a holey t-shirt. Danny’s mind wanders over that while he absorbs pain and confinement and finding his zen.
“I’d rather do without the chains.”
Derek’s chin lifts a little and he sniffs a couple of times. “You’re not like the others. You’ll be fine.”
This is a dismissal, because he glides to his feet and walks away. Danny appreciates the view. He wonders how he’s different.
Then there’s this whole thing.
“Derek doesn’t have to be your alpha. You don’t have to join his pack.” Stiles is adamant on this. Danny thinks about letting this go, that the high road would be to let Stiles work his own issues out. But they all have to make this work.
Danny rolls on his side and closes Stiles’ laptop. He picks it up and sets it over the side of the bed. He grabs Stiles’ shirts so he’ll wiggle down to align their heads.
“We’re all already in his pack. Me. You. Scott. Lydia. Jackson. Allison, when she recovers. The Boyd-Isaac-Erica unit. As much as you hate it, we’re in this together. Already.”
Stiles splutters, nonverbal. Danny rubs his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip.
“Why the internet research? That was just a hobby? You did it for them, to keep everyone safe. You’re not Derek’s biggest fan, but you’ve put yourself at risk to keep him safe.”
“For Scott.” The protest is weak, though, the words croaked out.
Danny wants so much for Stiles to be happy, to adjust to his place as part of a whole. Stiles needs to belong as badly as Jackson does. He’s just not as obvious about it. Danny presses his face into the unbruised side of Stiles’ neck, takes a deep breath, surrounded by the smell of him. He flicks out his tongue and tastes earlobe, jaw, throat. He tastes any skin he can reach.
Danny sits up abruptly, Stiles’ taste lingering in his mouth. “So that was a thing that happened.”
Stiles is sprawled on his back, eyes almost all pupil, throat shiny with spit.
“Whoa,” drops out of his mouth low and elongated. His eyes alight on Danny’s face. “Do you want to mark me?”
Danny couldn’t have articulated exactly what it was that he wanted. But that sounds right. Stiles whips off his shirts and grabs for the hem of Danny’s. Stiles is more built than his baggy clothes suggest, sculpted like a runner. Danny reaches for his own belt and watches Stiles watch him.
“Ok, we can do pants, too.” Stiles reaches for his own, but Danny grabs his hand. He presses it against the button on his own fly. Stiles scoots closer and pops Danny’s fly one-handed as the other runs up the midsection of Danny’s body. All smooth glide, and fingers tugging the zipper.
What starts sweet rushes towards frantic as they both kick their pants off, hands snatching at hips and Danny’s teeth brushing any of Stiles he can get. He smells better than Thanksgiving, better than new car smell. Danny wants that scent all over him. He’s so wrapped up in rubbing his face everywhere and anywhere that Stiles’ hand on his cock is almost an afterthought. The fingers and friction feel good, but he’s more interested in wallowing.
He slides down Stiles’ body, far enough Stiles’ hand falls away. Danny gets his knees under him on the floor and presses his face into the rough hair on Stiles’ belly and lower, runs his nose down his cock. This was what he was after. Stiles’ hands are in his hair, his voice drifting through the room. When Danny opens his mouth to suck Stiles down stray drops fall out because his mouth is watering so bad.
Danny fades away to taste and smell his mouth on autopilot and his body wired. After Stiles comes, when he’s tugging at Danny’s hair to get him to back off, the world pops back into focus, still muted at the edges, but concrete. He can feel where he came all over himself and maybe one of Stiles’ shoes. He knocks it all the way under the bed.
“Jesus fucking polar bears. Are you always like that?” Stiles has an arm over his eyes. His chest and face are livid. Danny manages to crawl up beside him, but just barely.
“No. This is new.” Danny’s voice is wrecked, his throat raw. He feels sated in a way he’s never associated with sex. Content. He throws an arm over Stiles chest, listens to his heart rate decline. “I can hear your heart beating.” His jaw cracks in a yawn.
“The neighbors probably can.” He rests his hand over Danny’s.
The end of the school year is a blur. Exams. Dodging his parents asking awkward questions. The Sheriff throwing raised eyebrows all over the place. The full moon looming. Stiles.
Stiles changes the brand of soap he uses, for example. Danny’s standing by him in the hallway, locker door open.
“This is going to be weird no matter how I put it.” Danny sighs. There are parts of his personality he doesn’t appreciate having stripped away by being bitten. Danny doesn’t like feeling possessive. He gets pissed off at himself which shouldn’t be something he has to deal with.
Stiles leans his hip against a locker and smiles. “Shoot. Weird is what I do.”
“Could you change back to your old soap?” The irrational irritation sucks.
Stiles’ mouth dips on one side. “Uh...”
“Just until the end of the week. Derek says...” He breaks off because he hates this the most. “I won’t be myself until after Friday, and you smell weird and it’s,” he sighs. “It’s sort of pissing me off?” He ducks his head and looks at Stiles from under his eyelashes, feeling shitty. “I’m sorry.”
“Oooooooookaaaaaaaay,” Stiles straightens up. “I’ll have to buy some, but I can do that. No one wants to see you when you’re angry.”
Stiles outscores him by three points on their English final (93/96). For the first time Danny wonders what phase of the moon the AP exams are going to fall under.
He’s meditating on how beautiful Stiles is--the curve of his lower back, the perfection of his skin, the jut of his wrist bones--computer open on his lap but forgotten.
“Seriously, I hate you being in love. It sucks. You haven’t been at dinner in weeks.” Sara’s in the doorway of the living room. She has one foot against her other knee, balancing as she twists around, frowning. “I miss you.”
Danny’s stomach bottoms out. He sets his computer on the coffee table and waves to her. She smiles, dimples popping out, and skips over to him, flying into his side and curling up. Her scent is all around him, lipgloss, Fructis conditioner, gummy vitaminsfabricsoftenerdietcokeherherSara
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.” He lifts his arm and she snuggles into him.
“Whatever. You’re damaged. Are we really watching Ellen? You’re so gay.” She doesn’t reach for the remote.
He laughs, her presence grounding him as usual. “Really? I thought being into dicks was a side effect of my medication.”
“Your face needs medication.” She sighs happily. Her cotton candy smell wraps around him and he sighs in agreement. “I’m going to grab your hot boyfriend’s butt when you’re not looking.”
“You haven’t done that yet?” They both laugh. Ellen dances up the risers of her audience.
Friday afternoon, Stiles drives Danny out to the woods in his repaired Jeep. Stiles is tense, profoundly. Danny brushes the back of his hand over his neck, his cheek. He grips his knee.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles fiddles with the radio. They’re suddenly listening to a report about a food bank on NPR. “You have to let me be me. I’m freaking out. I’m going to keep freaking out. It was bad enough when it was Scott. I mean, he’s Scott, so who knows what could happen? But...” He glances over, just a flick of his eyes. He licks his lips. “Anyway. You know.”
Danny runs a finger over the shell of Stiles’ ear. “Yeah. I know.” Danny’s resigned and curious. He does his best to project placidity to Stiles, but at the same time he knows there’s no real point. He wants to get through this, get it over with.
When they pull up to the clearing, everyone’s already there. Derek’s leaning against his car with his arms and legs crossed. Scott and Jackson are glaring at each other, arms also crossed. Erica and Lydia are trading lip gloss back and forth. Boyd and Isaac are discussing something on the screen of one of their phones.
Derek strides over to him when Danny gets out of the jeep. Everyone else’s heads come up, tracking Derek. Jackson waves with a half smile.
“This is the first time we’ve done this,” Derek says, chin up, hands in his pockets.
Stiles plasters himself to Danny’s side, but he doesn’t say anything for once. Derek narrows his eyes and sniffs once. He rolls his eyes.
“You’ll be fine.” Derek says and strolls away.
“What the hell does fine mean, huh?” Stiles whines. Danny touches the back of his neck and Stiles melts a little bit more into his side.
“It means fine,” Danny swipes his mouth against Stiles’ cheek. “Don’t freak.”
Jackson steps up to them. “Dude, this is some righteous shit.” He shoulder bumps Danny and he doesn’t douche at Stiles which is a serious improvement. “We’re the top of the food chain.”
“Lydia and Stiles should stay in a car.” Derek reaches for the hem of his shirt and yanks it over his head. “Everyone should strip.”
Danny turns to Stiles as Erica unbuttons her jeans. Stiles is rigid against his side. “Scott did this.” Danny doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t want to be a total dick, and Scott can probably hear him.
Stiles bleats out a small laugh. “Yeah, ok. Ok. I know.” He wipes a hand over his face. “I get to be worried. You can’t take that away from me.” He puts on his serious face. “I get to worry.”
Danny leans down and catches his mouth, applies tongue liberally. Derek’s hovering at the edge of the clearance, clearly waiting for him when Danny breaks away. He pulls his shirt up and off and tosses it to Stiles. “Car.”
The sun’s just clearing the horizon, but Danny can feel the tug of the moon low in his belly. This is new, pristine. He leaves his clothes and shoes piled next to everyone else’s. One of his last purely human thoughts is how weird it is to abandon your clothes in the middle a of a clearing in the woods.
Everything is sharp focus, the smell of dirt, pine sap, skin, the sounds of startled birds and beasts. He’s part of that, part of everything. Then he’s nothing but pain and the urge to kill.
He’s covered in rabbit gore, his human teeth coated in blood, he thinks about belonging, about his family--the way his dad never wears matching socks, the smell of his mom’s perfume, Sara’s delighted shrieks when thunder starts rumbling in the distance. He thinks about the curve of Stiles’ ear, his variable heart rate. He hears Jackson’s barked laughter in the back of his mind.
He grounds himself in how tangled up with so many people he loves he is. He stills himself like Derek told him to.
He senses Derek very close. He focuses harder and he can feel the others. The pack. He recognizes them moving in a pattern, weaving in and out of each other’s orbits. Instinctively he knows they’ve pacing the clearing where the cars are. Where Stiles and Lydia are. They pack’s protecting the humans. Derek chases Jackson through the trees close enough to actually see. Danny takes off after them. The moon’s heavy in the sky and the forest is bright with possibility.
At moonset Danny gets herded back to the clearing by way of a bitterly cold stream by Scott. His clothes are stacked in a neat pile next to his shoes when he emerges from the treeline. That would be Lydia. Danny dresses with quick efficiency, doesn’t watch anyone else out of the corner of his eye. He feels Derek approach. His awareness of the others is different now, honed.
“You did well,” Derek whispers from over his left shoulder. Danny doesn’t turn, but he nods.
Stiles is asleep in the passenger seat of Danny’s car. Danny watches him through the window, his heart aches at Stiles’ open mouth and awkward twisted limbs. He can hear everyone else moving around in the blackness. He can smell Stiles all over his clothes even over the traces of blood under his nails. As he reflects, Danny’s different, but he’s still himself.
Stiles startles awake when Danny opens the car door.
“Hey.” He rubs a hand over the top of his head. “I can drive. Just more room on this side.” Stiles’ jaw cracks around a yawn.
Danny slides the keys in the ignition. “Naw. I feel like driving a little recklessly.”
Stiles smiles at him, one quirked corner of his mouth. Danny smiles back and whips onto the forest track.
All in all Danny’s life is no less as awesome as a werewolf. Maybe he’s even better off. He has the pack now, a new family. So he has two families, which is way cooler than he would have anticipated.
He has Stiles.
@ Ao3 That's new for me. I'm considering backing up everything there, but, god, what a pain.