Chapter Text
Stiles and his family always celebrated the night of Halloween differently from other people. For starters his mother had always called it Samhain, the night that started winter and the night that they had to offer protection to those who knew to summon their help. His mom had once explained that he was special, the first boy born to a line of girls, and that they were part of a fairy tale that happened once a year and they had to play their part, they had to help people. Stiles would always watch his mom as his dad watched over them both as his mother’s ears grew pointed and her eyes turned silver, and silver tattoo’s grew up her arms and over her back and she became silent. She always left on the night of Samhain, she told him that it was the people who needed her help calling, and that someday, he would be the one helping people instead of her.
Then she died and when she did, the people of Beacon Hills and their protection left them for five years until her son grew into his powers. Stiles had not only lost his mom, but he had also lost the only person who could’ve explain his heritage in a way that made sense when he was older than a toddler and a child. Deaton helped, though the vague way he said to believe and he mentioned a spark made Stiles cringe.
The first Samhain Stiles experienced with his powers was frighteningly blurry and chaotic. He was 16 at the time and the excuses he had to make to get away from the pack had exhausted him to the point where he only remembers flashes of that night. Stiles can recall how he walked and left frosted footprints, he remembers how he visited everyone who had lit a bonfire and how he walked into the flames, unseen by the humans who were around them before whispering to the Earth in a language only the ancient Nine could recall and understand. However, what stood out the most to Stiles, was how he was comforted by the fires, he felt safe, and the words were almost instinctive to him and because of that, the next year he wasn’t worried about what would happen.
~:~:~:~
After two years of doing his thing over the night of Samhain, Stiles, now eighteen was more than comfortable with it, though he still had trouble making excuses to get away from his pack that night. This year he was having to fight tooth and nail to not go, because Derek was insisting that he join the pack that night, saying he always missed out on Halloween the last two years and they usually just sat around and watched scary movies while throwing popcorn and candy at one another. The pack was currently sitting around Stiles’ living room watching him and their Alpha argue about something that shouldn’t even be a problem.
“I’ve told you Derek, I can’t be there that night!” Stiles rubbed his hands down his face, getting tired of arguing over this. “I know I haven’t been there the past two years, but this is a thing that my mom used to do, and I just don’t like being around people on Halloween.” His insides twitched at not calling the night Samhain.
“Stiles, come on,” Isaac whispered, looking pained sitting in between Danny and Scott. “I don’t see what the big deal is, just come over and hang out with us.”
Stiles’ eyes never left Dereks, his body language was alternating between angry and frustrated. “I’m sorry guys, any other night I would, but I won’t be coming that night. This is final.”
Derek’s eyes flashed red at the blatant challenge. “You will be there Stiles, I don’t care if Scott has to drag out there himself. This is a pack gathering, and all of the pack will be there.”
Scott looked startled to be pulled into the argument. He had long since given up trying to pry out of Stiles what went on with him when his friend was alone on Halloween, now it was just normal for Stiles to disappear. Scott opened his mouth to protest but it was cut off with a sharp comment from Lydia, who until then had just been watching the argument with a speculative look in her eyes. “He’ll be there Derek, don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure he’s there. Now, unlike some of us, Allison and I were actually watching a movie before you two started yelling at each other.”
Derek didn’t break his stare with Stiles until the boy looked away first, the argument temporarily ended. Tension still clung to the packs shoulders, but it was better than before and that morning Stiles’ dad walked into to find his living room inhabited by sleeping teenagers and one adult, all cuddled into a huge pile.
~:~:~:~
The night of Samhain Stiles paced around his room waiting for something to happen. Stiles could feel his skin vibrating with the sun as it set, his magic wanting the be let out and loose, if only for one night. Lydia had promised that Stiles would come to Derek’s if she had to drag him there and she rarely broke promises. He stood looking blankly at the mirror fiddling with two paper clips he had sitting around on his desk, almost dropping them when he was startled out of his thoughts by his cellphone ringing. Scrambling across his room he managed to grab the phone and answer the call before it left a message, unfortunately he didn’t look at the caller ID.
“Stiles.”
“Oh. Hey Lydia. What’s up? I thought you’d be here to force me by my nails to go to Derek’s tonight.”
“I don’t know why you haven’t been going, and I can’t say nor do I care, but you better have a really really good reason I’m about to lie to my boyfriend and his Alpha, because if anyone gets hurt out of this, I will find you and you will not like it when I do.”
“I, yea, okay. Thanks Lydia. I owe you one, or you know, several,” Stiles turned to the window as he watched the last of the suns rays set before walking back to his mirror.
Sniffing Lydia just answered, “I know.” before hanging up.
Setting down his phone Stiles looked up at the mirror and watched as his eyes bled silver. He could feel his blood singing as he listened to the song of Nine, his ears growing into the natural points they usually were as silver tattoos, mostly Gaelic knots and words were drummed into his skin. He observed his features shift becoming more lithe, his eyes focused better once the silver settled, and his arms and back tingled with the power of the tattoos. This was his birthright. This was his to protect. That first year Stiles had blacked out, but the second year he watched in amazement at what was happening to him, remembering faintly that the same thing happened to his mother too. With one last glance at himself, he grabbed the silver cape that hung in his closet and the silver knife he kept hidden and bounded out the window, quick and light on his feet, the power of Nine giving him grace he usually lacked.
~:~:~:~
Derek leaned against the wall of his house as he watched his pack gather around him, taking comfort in each other's presence, scent marking and playing around. Almost everyone was here, Isaac and Danny, Scott and Allison, Boyd and Erica, they were just waiting on Stiles, Lydia and Jackson to arrive before they went outside for the bonfire they had set up this year.
Derek stiffened as he heard the purr of Jackson’s Porsche. It was coming down the drive and there were only two heartbeats in it. He growled to himself and pushed himself away from the wall to meet them his eyes flashing red when the car pulled up and Lydia flashed him a beaming smile from the front seat.
Derek narrowed his eyes at her. She knew something. Getting out of the car Lydia waved to the rest of the pack before turning to Derek. “Stiles sends his apologies. I talked to his dad, he was actually telling the truth when he said that its a family thing.” She shrugged carelessly and pushed her way past Derek.
Derek growled. “Lydia, I told you to bring him no matter what. You could’ve made something up, he knows that Stiles is pack and needs to be here.”
Lydia whirled on him, eyes flashing. “You do not get to tell that man or his son that they can’t have a family night, not when it was so special for them. This was Stiles’ mothers last holiday, and I will not take him away from keeping her memory alive by doing something special with his father. Not tonight.”
Derek paused, taken aback. He hadn’t realized the significance, not in all the years past when he had urged Stiles to make an appearance at whatever the pack did on Halloween. He sighed and looked back at Lydia. “Fine, I won’t go drag him here myself. Why didn’t he just tell me this?”
Lydia’s eyes softened. “Grief does funny things to a person,” she said softly, knowingly. She whirled around and called out to the pack as she made her way over. “Now, what are we doing tonight? Who got to pick the movies this year?” Derek was left to follow, thinking over what she had said
“Actually, Derek was thinking something different for this year, we made a bonfire pit and we were going to just hang out outside together.” Erica piped up from where she was leaning against Boyd. All the wolves startled at the sudden reek of nervousness and fear the Lydia and Danny suddenly shot off, Jackson and Isaac grabbing at their respective significant others in worry.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea at all Derek. We should most definitely stay inside. In the warm house. Watching movies.” Lydia had stopped in the center of the porch and turned once more on Derek.
“Too bad. This is what we’re doing.” Derek eyed the pack, still unhappy and confused about the fear that emitted from Danny and Lydia before turning around and leading everyone over to the fire pit that had been dug the day before.
No one missed the way Lydia sidled up to Danny and grabbed his hand for a second before muttering “This is so not a good idea.” Danny just nodded and squeezed her hand before grabbing Isaac and going to claim a seat
~:~:~:~
Stiles loved the night of Samhain, it was the only night he felt free and comfortable in his own skin. He leapt from tree to tree listening to the laughter of the children who had had too much sugar. He kept watch over the adults, children and animals alike as the temperature dropped, getting colder. Stiles could feel himself being summoned by those who needed his magic for protection through the winter whether they knew they were requesting it or not, but this was his favorite part, watching the kids and making sure they were safe from the dark and the cold. It was his job, his promise to the Nine, and he would keep it.
Sighing Stiles jumped off the branch he was using as a perch and walked into the forest, turning around to watch himself leave frosted footprints and caressing the fog that followed him like a loyal pet. The fog was new to Stiles, it hasn’t been with him last year, but he was finding it more and more comforting as he jumped from fire to fire, bathing in the flames and the promises of the healthy. The only downside to this night was that he couldn’t talk to other humans, he had tried last year but no one could see him, let alone hear him, he was alone on this night. Chuckling to himself as he used the fog like a set of stairs he raced up a tree to look at the sky he watched the stars twinkle in and out before jumping and doing a flip in the air, counting on the trees to move their branches out of the way and the fog to cushion his fall, neither disappointed.
His magic ran with the Earth, it was as old as the Earth herself. He could hear the wind as it sung and danced through the trees beside him, he could see the sprites flit through the trees and call out to him as he raced through the forest, recognizing their kin. The fog raced with him, leaving a thin harmless coat of frost on everything that it passed, making the animals shiver and the leaves on the trees and plants quiver from the slight chill. So focused was Stiles on his magic and feeling it race through his veins that he almost missed one of the last fires of the night, one that summoned him more than any other had so far this year. He followed the magic that tugged at his veins, making his tattoos glow in the night, the fog pulling closer to him as he approached the end of the tree line.
~:~:~:~
The first sign that something was happening was the fog that suddenly crept in. Until now the pack had been happy, though Lydia and Danny had now moved to sit together tense and waiting, their eyes flickering to and fro from the tree line and back to the fire. Derek took a step forward to confront them and opened his mouth to speak, but as he did he felt the temperature of the night plunge and the heard the crackling of ice underfoot where there was none a second ago.
The second thing that was wrong with the night was the smell. There was a distinct smell of fresh frost and cinnamon that should not have been in the air. The wolves smelt it first and the whole pack tensed up, Lydia and Danny watched the fog and the wolves before standing up and moving to the front of the fire, Derek coming to stand in front of them. The fog froze everything on the ground except for a ring around the fire, clinging to the wolves and making it harder to see, even with their enhanced eyesight.
“So, anyone have an idea of what's going on?” Scott had come to stand somewhere behind Danny and Lydia.
“Not yet Scott, but something is.” Lydia didn’t even bother to turn around, but that was because all the wolves had started growling at the lithe figure that was walking out of the treeline and towards the pack. The figure got closer and closer, and the pack snarled, although Lydia and Danny warned them in low voices to keep quiet and stay back. A silver cape fluttered around the figure, hood disguising their features. The scent of frost and cinnamon was clouding their senses, making it hard for them to distinguish any other smell but that, but the figure drew closer and Lydia peered at it, trying to find any distinguishing mark underneath the guise of frost and the iridescent hood that flowed in a nonexistent breeze.
“Stiles?” She whispered, and the whole pack froze.
The figure turned towards them and Derek tensed, hands clenching into fists before grinding out, “Lydia, now is not the time for jokes. What the hell is that thing.”
“Just don’t move,” Lydia whispered fiercely. “Don’t move, don’t talk, just watch.”
The pack settled on their feet, adrenaline pounding through their veins, making them fidget where they stood. The figure came to a standstill in front of the fire and slowly reached a hand up and drew back the hood. The pack gasped as a whole, whines of confusion escaping the wolves of the pack. Derek started forward, but Lydia and Danny grasped his arms and whispered frantically to him, telling him that it wasn’t a prank and to just watch.
Whispering amongst themselves the pack tried to make sense of what was in front of their eyes, confused as Lydia whirled on them, face furious. “This is the last time, shut up before I make you. What you are about to witness is not a prank, but in fact something incredibly special. The next one to speak will lose a finger or two. Do not cross me, not tonight, not with this.”
There was silence before their gaze was drawn back to the figure, to Stiles as he began to walk around the fire, words too low for them to hear being murmured into the fog that seemed to curl around him like a loyal pet. The firelight caught on his features and Lydia gasped. There were tattoos that were entwined around Stiles’ face and arms, twirling and making intricate loops before meeting in the shape of a tree on his forehead. He turned and Scott was the one to gasp this time, as the pack caught sight of not only the tattoos on his face, but gleaming silver eyes and delicately pointed ears.
The pack drew in a breath as Stiles took out a silver dagger before cutting his thumb, not even looking down as he did so, smearing the blood around his finger before walking silently up to Erica, who was standing on the edge of the pack. The female wolf flinched as Stiles brought his bloodied thumb up to her forehead before pressing it to her and leaving a bloody mark, chanting once again. Stiles repeated this process for each and every pack member there, pausing on slightly when he got to Derek, tilting his head in a bird like fashion before continuing on.
Once Stiles had finished with the pack and walked a complete circle around the fire, he turned to face it, words growing stronger, gaining power. Derek tensed a second before Stiles stepped into the fire, letting the flames dance through his fingers and run along his arms, reflecting off his silver cape, now tinted orange before finishing his chant with a hoarse shout. Howls broke out and even Lydia and Danny were helpless to hold the pack back as the flames shot up, engulfing Stiles in a tower of fire. There was only the lingering smell of cinnamon and frost, with no indication that Stiles was actually in the fire to prove what their eyes had shown them.
“LYDIA.” Lydia cringed and turned to face Derek. She saw his face and softened, hurrying to reassure him and the pack. Derek’s voice was hoarse, and cracked. He was standing as close to the fire as he possibly could without being in it, hands clenched.
“He’s not dead. Calm the hell down and I’ll try to explain what I think just happened.” Lydia snapped as the pack continued to make distressed noises and circle the fire. Danny was moving among them, whispering soothing words, but Lydia was tired and at the end of her rope. She turned to face Derek, to tell him to be the Alpha, and paused.
Dereks expression was overwrought, pale at the sight of someone he loved disappearing into flames, eyes still on the fire. Lydia sighed, grabbed one of his arms and tugged him over to the seats where they had been sitting before the fiasco had started. “Guys, get your asses sitting down so I don’t have to explain this more than once.”
The pack was there in seconds, eager to hear her explanation. “Alright,” Lydia sighed, and settled down herself, trading a look with Danny that was all fond exasperation. “What you saw tonight wasn’t exactly Stiles as we know him. What you saw tonight was a Guardian of Samhain.”
“Guardian of a what now?” Lydia looked over at Jackson and rubbed her face.
“Be quiet and listen up if you want to know what just happened.” She snapped at him. “You remember the time we had that infestation of Sprites, and Stiles, Danny, and I got really deep into the research of the Fae folk?” The pack nodded as Lydia looked around, catching Derek's eyes and holding them. “That’s what we just saw, one of the Fair People. The thing about the Fae is that they are thought to have come from different religions, different cultures and that's mostly true, but the most powerful of the Fae come from the Gaelic culture. The tricky thing with the Gaelic fae though is that there are Nine lines. The power of the Nine. That's one word I kept hearing Stiles murmur tonight when he was circling, and then right before he stepped into the fire. I think Stiles is one of the Nine, a Guardian, and since tonight is Halloween, also known as Sabbath of Samhain, that’s what he guards. I’m not sure about everything else, but we should probably go to his house and wait for him or ask his dad about it if you want more explanations.”
Scott was the first one up. “Well, what are we waiting for then?” He glanced at Derek, and Derek sighed. “Let’s go hear his side of the story than,” he said shortly before whirling and heading for his car with long strides. Isaac bounded after him with Erica and Boyd tagging along behind them at a more sedate pace, confident that their Alpha wouldn’t dare leave them behind for this. Lydia gazed after Derek with narrowed eyes before shaking her head absent mindedly and picking up the blanket she had brought out with her. Danny was suddenly at her side and she lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Scott’s gonna ride with me, I’ll meet you there.” She nodded and glanced around, looking for Jackson. She caught sight of him dumping buckets of dirt that they had gathered on the fire to put it out and sighed.
“Did you... suspect?” Danny asked abruptly, turning back to her. She looked at him and tilted her head in contemplation.
“It’s Stiles.” She said vaguely. Danny huffed a laugh and turned away, knowing he wouldn’t get a straight answer out of her. Not yet. Scott moved past her, but Lydia called him back.
“Has Stiles always missed Halloween?” she asked him, eyes narrowed.
“Uh.. no? I mean, after his mom died he was always quieter, but he only started missing it when we turned sixteen."
“And you never noticed anything strange?” Jackson asked, coming up behind them.
“Uh, no? He told me it was because of his mom and I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.” Scott shrugged and turned to leave.
“Idiot. Of course he wouldn’t notice.” Jackson snorted. Lydia smacked him and strode towards his car. “Don’t be rude Jackson, Scott was trying to be respectful, which is something you have yet to learn.”
Jackson scoffed, but Lydia smirked as she heard laughter come from the cars where the pack was waiting for them. She reached Jacksons car and waited impatiently for him to unlock it and start it up before swinging herself inside. Dereks car passed them with a rumble, and they were on their way.
~:~:~:~
John Stilinski jerked awake on the chair he had been dozing in at the sound of the doorbell. He looked at the time with a frown, sure that the kids would be in bed by now. Perhaps it was an older straggler, allowed to be out a bit later. He pushed himself out of the chair with a groan, grabbing the bowl of candy that was getting pitifully low. He opened the door with a big smile that faded as soon as he saw who was on his doorstep.
“I’m guessing you aren’t here to trick or treat.” He said finally, before stepping aside so the pack could enter. Lydia flounced in with a huff, and the rest of the pack entered silently. John looked on in amusement as they all traipsed in, and wondered what his life was ever since he had discovered that his son ran around with werewolves.
Derek was the last one in, and shook the Sheriffs hand at the door. “Sheriff.” Derek said respectfully.
“Evening, Derek. What can I do for you guys?” John asked, closing the door and ambling into the kitchen to drag out some of the soda Stiles was convinced he had hidden and something to snack on. He’d gotten used to the collective pack having an endless amount of energy and an appetite to match.
“We just saw your son with elven ears, silver eyes and tattoos that looked like markings of the Fae come up to each of us, leave a bloody thumbprint mark on our forehead, walk into a fire and disappear. We were wondering if you could help us out with that.” Erica said, blunt as ever. John choked, taking a sip of the soda and took a moment to catch his breath while Scott looked at Erica disapprovingly.
“Stiles will kill you if anything happens to his father because you couldn’t be a bit more diplomatic, Erica.” He growled under his breath. Erica actually looked interested in seeing Stiles try, so Derek cuffed them both over the head and glared at them.
“Sheriff, Lydia had an interesting explanation for it that involved Nine Guardians and none of us have any clue what the hell Stiles was doing, so we’d appreciate knowing what is going on.” Derek said respectfully.
“Right, let’s adjourn to the living room and get comfortable. Stiles won’t be back for another couple hours anyways.” The pack tensed at that, but the Sheriff didn’t seem concerned, so they followed him and got comfortable on the couch, sprawled all over each other. John looked at them and shook his head with a smile and sat down in his chair.
“Ok. First off, Stiles is fine. He’s been doing this for two years, granted he can’t remember the first year. He won’t be back till sunrise at the earliest so we’ve got a bit of time. You said Lydia mentioned the Nine,” John looked over at Lydia for a confirming nod before continuing. “I can’t explain it as clearly as Claudia explained it to me, but it breaks down into this: There are two equinoxes and two solstices, but inbetween those are four Gaelic seasons, these seasons are known as Beltane, Lughnasadh, Samhain and Imbolc. They sort of go in this order: Spring Equinox on March twentieth, Beltane on April thirtieth to May first, the Summer Solstice on June twenty first, Lughnasadh on July thirty first to August first, the Fall Equinox on September twenty second, Samhain on October thirty first to November first, the Winter Solstice on December twenty first and lastly Imbolc on January thirty first to February first before the Spring Equinox repeats. Is everyone with me so far?”
John looked around as the pack nodded and started again. “Good. Now, that only makes eight if you were counting. The Ninth is the whole year. There are four years in a leap year, so it’s almost the same thing, but on a larger scale. Now in relation to the Fae and what my son is, you have to recognize something. Claudia came from a line of females, everyone before her was a Guardian of Samhain, it runs down the mothers line. This goes for the Guardians of Beltane, Lughnasadh, and Imbolc as well, all these lines are Guarded by women. The Solstice and Equinox Guardians are all lines of males and the powers inherited through the males. Stiles technically shouldn’t exist,” John stopped and eyed the pack as they all let out growls, “but thankfully he does. This probably means that in one of the male lines there was a female born to keep the balance.”
“What you saw Stiles do tonight is something that only happens once a year, it’s something that his mother did before him and her mother did before her. It’s the Guardians offering protection from death of cold during the winter, at least until Imbolc, when those Guardians come out to keep everyone safe till Beltane. From what I’ve gathered it’s mostly instinctual, Stiles knows what's going on, he probably knew who you were, but he’s compelled by the magic to bless those who are wise enough to summon him by fire. The silver you saw in his eyes along with the tattoos are something his mother had as well, she always told me that it was her power, her blessing and her right. It’s not something that will harm him. Does that make things a bit clearer?”
The pack nodded and John smiled before rubbing his face. “Good, now I'm almost done. I think that most of you probably weren't able to clearly hear him speaking," The Sheriff paused and waited for the pack to acknowledge him before starting up again. "Good. That's not something to be worried about. I'd actually be more worried if you were able to hear him speaking clealy. On this night, him being a Fae he technically doesn't exist. Much live werewolves don't exist. Claudia had a theory that the supernatural could hear her and her lines, though not clearly because of the fact that both creatures were supernatural. "
Lydia opened her mouth to speak while John caught his breath. "I could hear him, is that a problem then?"
"Not as much as it could be. Stiles tells me you're a banshee? That would probably contribute to it. The purpose of a banshee is to alert someone or another creature of a beings immanent death. On nights like this one the gate that stands between the worlds of the living and the dead are more open then they would be on a general day. If we factor in your banshee powers, along with the fact that you're well above the realm of the average persons IQ it wouldn't be that hard of a stretch to say that you could hear him and pick out distinct words more than someone else because of who you are. If that’s all than, I’m off to bed, we’ve still got a while till daylight, feel free to stay until Stiles gets back, but I'm going to warn you, he’ll most likely just fall into sleep as soon as he tumbles into his room. He slept all day last year.” With a wave goodnight John made his way upstairs to his room, the pack not moving till they heard his door shut.
~:~:~:~
After John went to bed, Derek left the pack in the kitchen and wandered up to Stiles’ room. The window was open and he eyed it carefully, but left it open. His room was clean, but his desk was cluttered. Upon second glance, it was all research on the supernatural and a page that had several inquiries to different types of fae. Derek took a page of it and threw himself down on Stiles bed to read.
He was soon joined by Isaac and Erica, and slowly the rest of the pack trickled in and threw themselves down on the bed or sprawled on the floor. Sometime around five AM Derek finally let himself fall asleep, surrounded by the scent of pack. He woke up to the sound of a body hitting the floor with a familiar “Oof! That hurts every time, fuck my life."
“Stiles?” Derek mumbled as the pack started to wake up around him. Stiles jerked his head up and saw them, eyes widening in surprise. The sour scent of nervousness permeated the room and Stiles remained where he had crashed on the floor from getting in through the window.
“Hey, Derek. How’s it going, guys?” He scrambled up and then his eyes widened and he mumbled “Shit, that was too fast.” before his eyes rolled in his head and he dropped. Derek scrambled out from under the bodies piled on top of him and caught him before his head hit the floor, picking him up and settling him on the bed. Isaac scooted over to make room and Erica grumbled, but shifted until she was on top of Boyd so that Derek was able to lay down with them.
“Stiles? Is that Stiles?” Scott mumbled fuzzily from the floor where he was curled around Allison with a blanket, Danny, Jackson and Lydia forming their own pile at the foot of the bed.
“He’ll be fine, he just needs sleep.” Derek rumbled and told himself it was just because Stiles was so terribly cold and seemed so defenseless was why he curled himself around him, dragging him closer and nuzzling at his neck. The scent of frost and forest and cinnamon lingered, but underneath it all Derek could finally smell Stiles and pack, since he hung around them so much. He slept much easier with the comforting scent of pack and Stiles beside him.
~:~:~:~
Stiles woke up feeling a comfort and peace that he hadn’t felt in ages. It went with the whole killing supernatural creatures on a daily basis thing, and he hadn’t even realized that he could miss it, but as he slowly woke up to the sound of voices downstairs and the smell of bacon in the air, he realized how much he liked being able to wake up feeling safe and secure. Normally he didn’t indulge in pack cuddles, but in this case it was nice.
He shifted and there was a rumble before an arm dragged him closer. He stilled, frozen in shock. There was no one else in the pack who made that noise, or had that broad chest. His heart rate sped up and Derek shot up behind him, looking around wildly for the threat. “Derek, shit, it’s alright, everything’s fine, I was just a bit surprised by how much you enjoyed cuddling and how did I not see that, of course you would, underneath that brooding exterior, all the tough guys just want some love, am I right? Everything’s fine, Sourwolf, you don’t have to flash those eyes at me- shit!”
Stiles yelped as he waved his arms and overbalanced himself, falling on his ass on the floor next to his bed. There was silence before Derek peered over the edge with amusement in his eyes. There was a crease from the pillow on his cheek and his hair was sleep rumpled and shit Stiles was in over his head. He scrambled up before Derek could say anything or do anything, like smell the arousal pouring off Stiles at the sight of something so domestic.
He got to the door before Derek was at his back, hand firm against the door to keep it closed. Stiles tugged at it uselessly before thumping his forehead against the door and breathing out a sigh, still twisting at the knob uselessly.
“So, uh... good morning to you too.” Stiles blurted. Derek quirked his mouth with amusement before grabbing Stiles’ shoulders and turning him around, bracing him against the door and caging him in.
“Good morning, Stiles. Did you have a nice night? Do anything special?”
Stiles gulped. “Uh...” Shit. They had all been there when he had come in last night, what the hell had his father told them. And why the hell had he allowed them to stay.
Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles heart rate spiked. “Calm the fuck down, we already know. Well, most of it, I suspect Lydia and Danny have an entire treasure load of questions for you.” He closed his eyes and Stiles caught a flash of pain before Derek's head was on his shoulder and whoop, there went his heart again, beating rabbit fast against his ribcage.
“You smelled wrong,” Derek rumbled, breath ghosting over Stiles’ neck. He shivered and held still, eyes wide.
“Wh-” Stiles cleared his throat and flushed. “What did I smell like?”
“Like frost, and cinnamon. And not at all like Stiles.” Derek licked his neck and Stiles squeaked. “You looked so different and I didn’t know whether I could believe my eyes, because what they were telling me and what my nose was telling me wasn’t matching up.” He gripped Stiles tighter, pulling him closer.
“And then you stepped into the fire and I felt my heart shatter at the thought that perhaps I’d lost you too.” Derek confessed into Stiles neck, voice hoarse. Stiles made a noise and suddenly he was wrapped around Derek, trying to comfort him however he could, horrified that Derek had to see that, see someone else close to him disappear into fires embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice fervent as he held Derek, felt him breathe into his neck and slowly relax. Derek sighed and slumped against him, braced by the door at his back. Stiles closed his eyes and savored the moment, with Derek against him, trusting him. Derek drew back after a few minutes and Stiles caught himself staring at his lips.
“Stiles.” Derek rumbled into his ear.
Stiles stiffened, flushing with the knowledge that the scent of arousal had to be pouring off him. “I need to go to the bathroom, if you could move yourself.”
Derek smirked and leaned in until he was breathing the same breath as Stiles. “You sure about that? What if I made you a counteroffer?”
Stiles voice was high when he answered. “A counteroffer to what? Taking a leak? I’m not quite sure what the hell-” he was cut off when Dereks lips covered his. It was dry, chaste, until Stiles finally relaxed and wrapped his arms around Derek with a moan, opening his mouth as Derek licked into it. He was just getting into it, hooking a leg around Dereks hips when Derek pulled back with his eyes blown and a full fledged smug grin on his face.
“We should probably stop.”
“What? No, no we really don’t, my dad has the morning shift, we’re so so good, keep going and doing what you were doing.” Stiles was not ashamed to admit that his voice was practically a whine at that point, but when the guy he’s been crushing on for the last year was kissing him like that, he’d be crazy to think about stopping at that point. Until Derek spoke again.
“The pack is downstairs.”
“Dude, that is not funny. What a way to kill the mood.” he groaned, letting his head fall onto Derek’s chest. He heard laughter from downstairs and muttered a “I hate you all.” knowing they could hear it. Derek’s chest shook underneath him with laughter and he sighed before detaching himself.
“Fine, I’m hungry. They better have food ready, my stomach is an endless pit after last night.” Derek raised an eyebrow, but shook his head with a smile and took a step away so Stiles could open the door. Stiles walked out the door and moaned in appreciation at the smell that hit him.
“Oh my god bacooon and pancakes, who do I need to kiss to get some food around here.”
Derek growled and caught his hand, pulling him back and nuzzling against his neck, nipping and licking before letting him go with a satisfied smirk. Stiles shook his head and headed downstairs, not letting go of Derek's hand as he rounded the corner and walked into the kitchen where the pack was. They were all buzzing around with familiarity and Stiles was almost disturbed at the fact that they seemed more familiar with the kitchen then he was, but shook his head.
Jackson turned around and started laughing. Stiles shot him a look before Lydia and Allison also turned and started giggling.
“Did you guys draw a penis on my face again?” He demanded, turning around to find a mirror. Derek was smiling and Stiles glared at him suspiciously as he passed to go check himself in the hallway mirror. He looked at himself in it and then flushed. “Oh.” he mumbled, and heard laughter break out in the kitchen.
“Oh shut it, you wolves are all freakishly possessive, I’ve seen plenty of hickeys on Allison and Lydia at this point, don’t make me drag out the blackmail material I’ve collected over the years.” He threatened, fingering the bright red hickey on his neck. That would explain the smug look on Derek's face right now. The pack quickly settled down among his threats and jokes about all he’d witnessed and heard that he really had never wanted to see or hear in the past two years.
Allison and Scott brought out platters of food to feed everyone and they settled at the table, still joking amongst themselves. Stiles sat himself down beside Derek and then loudly called Scott out on something he had just said before falling silent and looking around with a smile at the pack that had become family to him. Derek squeezed his hand and shared an understanding look with him.
“Alright, alright, everyone shut up so I can ask Stiles about last night. Everyone wants to know, don’t deny it.” Lydia finally called out, shutting them all up within seconds. Stiles flushed as he felt everyones attention on him and then looked around, bracing himself for the barrage of questions.
“Alright, who wants to know what?”
Erica piped up first. “So, why the bloody thumb print?”
Grimacing Stiles eyed his thumb, knowing there wasn’t going to be any sign of his cutting his thumb over and over again last night on the skin. “Think of it as a promise and a shield. It’s supposed to keep death at bay. In the older days when everyone still farmed we used it to keep their livestock, children and the adults from freezing in the cold, but you can still get normal colds and flus. Of course, it only works until Imbolc, after that you have to get that lines blessing.”
“What were you chanting?” This came from Danny, who was lounging on Isaac with not a care in the world. “It sounded Gaelic and Lydia kept picking out the word Nine.”
“Ah, that, translated it means something like ‘By rights of fate, by rights of mine, by my rights as one of the Guardians of Nine, through my powers, through my line, I grant you my protection, thus is thine.’ It’s something my mother would always murmur when she put me to bed, but I didn’t know it’s meaning till my second year as a Guardian.”
Glancing around the room Stiles watched the pack eat and was just about to take a bit when Jackson spoke up. “So, Stiles, tell us about your makeup?” As soon as he said this Lydia’s hand shot across the table and smacked him in the back of the head and Derek growled making Stiles chuckle
“Yeah, that was interesting when I saw it the first time on myself too, I mean, my mom always had it and I used to love watching it appear on her when Samhain came around, I thought it was the prettiest thing. It turns out it’s a physical manifestation of the Guardian powers. The ones you saw on my arms and head are also on my back, and they go almost all the way down before curving around and crawling up my hips to my ribs. The eyes are also a power manifestation too.”
“And the only time you do this is on Halloween?” Allison asked softly. Stiles nodded, having just taken a bite of his pancake, and swallowed. “Yeah, that’s it, I’ve got another year of being human now.” He laughed. He caught Derek’s gaze and sombered.
“I would’ve discouraged against making a bonfire if I had known, but I suppose in the long run it’s easier now that you guys know. This way next year you know better.” He said with a smile, ducking his head.
“We’ll be here every year, dumbass.” Derek said firmly. Stiles looked around to see nods from the pack, and then looked back at Derek.
“You’re sure?” He asked, knowing Derek would get his meaning.
“I’m sure.” Derek said firmly, and Stiles dragged him in for a kiss amid the catcalls of the pack.