Archive of Our Own

The temperature outside was 91 degrees with fifty-some percent humidity and as he stood outside in the middle of Triskele University's courtyard, Derek Hale felt every degree of it. A breeze blew by and while it helped ease some of the mugginess thickening the air, it didn't nothing to help the Alpha feel any less stifled. No, that was due to the gaggle of girls—and a couple guys—who'd surrounded him, all chattering away in a bid to get his attention.

It was nothing new, unfortunately. He could admit that puberty had been kind to him, shooting him up to six feet tall between his freshman and sophomore years of high school, helping him grow into his ears and rid him of the baby fat, leaving him with sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jaw he hid behind thick black whiskers. Presenting as an Alpha meant he'd filled out muscle wise, broadening his shoulders, thickening his thighs, and enlarging his arms. It also meant his scent shifted to something strong and musky and alluring, something that when combined with his admitted good looks—according to others around him—meant his popularity has sprouted just as fast as his height and his chest hair.

Now, as a senior in college, he was still being accosted by countless others all hoping to bag a strong, virile Alpha perfect for protection, providing, and breeding. They batted eyelashes, touched his arm, cocked hips, giggled like he was a late night special on Comedy Central, titled their heads to the side to seem interested and put scent glands on display. Also to presumably make their scent stronger and more appealing to him.

Too bad it never worked.

Derek's nose was as dead as a damn door nail.

It wasn't that he couldn't smell period. He could pick up the scents of food, room odors, the freshly mowed grass and the flowers in the air, typical day to day shit, and he could get a general idea of how someone smelled, if it was good or bad, but when it came to telling an Alpha from a Beta from an Omega? Nothing.

Rather annoying. It used to get him in trouble when he was younger and he'd hoped presenting would help out but it'd done nothing. He was pretty much noseblind.

Of course he'd never admit this to the gaggle of Omegas—at least he was assuming they were Omegas—currently surrounding him, although it was tempting. Maybe if they knew his nose was faulty they'd see all of him as lacking and damaged and realize they didn't want his DNA in their gene pool after all, running off to find some other Alpha to cream themselves over. Would make Derek's life a helluva whole lot easier. Getting to class on time would no longer be an Olympian feat, he could walk somewhere without being crowded, his friends—

His friends wouldn't be off to the side laughing, unhelpful as always as they watched from a safe distance.

Yet Derek kept it to himself. He didn't know why. Embarrassment maybe, shame. It sure as hell wasn't to keep his fan club hanging around. All the attention, the flattery, the fussing, it all made him feel awkward as hell, even further embarrassed. And his mother had drilled good manners into him at a young age and being a lanky, gawky, goofy looking kid meant he was socially outcast so he didn't quite develop the right skills needed to navigate situations like this.

If there was even a way to navigate situations like this in the first place.

Peering over, he found his friends Vernon Boyd and Isaac Lahey standing in the shade of the university founder's statue, Boyd glancing at his watch pointedly, Isaac smirking wide in amusement. Assholes. Zero help. Not that Derek had any idea how they could even help in the first place. His fan club was relentless. Made becoming a hermit and never leaving his apartment super appealing.

Still, those two were the only ones he trusted with the secret about his defective nose, to see him as more than just an appealing Alpha who can give them what they want. They saw past the Dynamic and the looks and the fact that his family was loaded, saw who Derek actually was, and still hung out with him.

Or at least tried to hang out with him. Wasn't easy when he wasn't left alone.

Boyd circled his hand in a "hurry up" fashion and Isaac wiped under one of his eyes and Derek mentally cursed his fate. Maybe it was time to try dating again. Sure, his relationship history had been... unfortunate to put it mildly, but if he was with someone, committed to them, then their scent would be on him and the groupies would back off.

He assumed.

Then again, maybe the more possessive and obsessive and deranged ones would go after whoever he was dating in some messed up idea of vengeance or punishment for touching the Alpha they believed belonged to them...

Plus he had enough on his plate, what with this being his senior year and the LSATs coming up. He had no time for a relationship. It wouldn't be fair to whomever his partner was.

No, his only option was putting up with the fan club.

To a certain point at least.

"Alright, alright," he interrupted whatever was being said, having long since learned to tune out the cacophony of superficial praise and empty compliments. "I gotta go, guys. I'm gonna be late for class."

"I'll walk you!" one girl gleefully chirped.

"Your next class is the opposite side of campus," another bit back venomously.

"Then I'll walk him!"

"No, I will!"

"I will!"

"No! Me!"

Derek rolled his eyes to the sky and sent an empty prayer for help then halfway focused on the bickering gaggle in front of him. "I know how to get to class, I'll be fine. But I really have to go." Before any objections or arguments or complaints could be sounded, he pushed his way through them, feeling tugs at his arm, his tee, his backpack as it was dragged off his shoulder down to his elbow.

But he managed to break free, his friends finally making their way to his sides, Boyd's impressive size and dark glare aimed at the fan club causing them to stand down and stay put. Finally Derek was able to walk away, to head to class like he'd originally been trying to.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" he muttered in agitation when they were far enough away, the three of them heading up the steps that led to the smaller courtyard and the way to the humanities building.

Boyd snorted, corner of his lips curling up in a smirk. "Nah. Too much fun watching you squirm."

"No kidding," Isaac joined in, grinning wide. "By the way, you might wanna hit the bathroom before class, get the lipstick off your cheek."

"Fuck me," Derek muttered darkly, glowering. He hadn't even noticed anyone kissing his cheek. He also hadn't noticed anyone drawing on his arm but there were phone numbers on him: one on the back of each hand, two on the inside of his right forearm, one in sharpie on the back of his left. Fuck. That shit was always a pain in the ass to scrub off.

His friends snickered as they made their way across the grass, down the sidewalk. Isaac pinched Derek's cheek and Boyd patted Derek's shoulder and Derek frowned at them both.

"Fuck you guys, too," he grumbled, getting waved off by them both.

"Yeah, yeah," Boyd dismissed, playfully shoving at Derek. "Hey, don't forget after class, you're having lunch with me and Erica."

Derek nodded, remembering, finding it strange that Isaac wasn't included in the invite. Then again, maybe the guy had plans of his own already. Derek didn't know what all he got up to during his days.

Ascending the steps, he said his "see ya later"s to his friends, parting ways, Boyd and Isaac rushing off to their classes. Derek slipped his phone out his pocket to check the time, realizing his was set to begin in one minute. Shit. Maybe he should just skip, text his study partner Braeden later and get notes from her. There was no way he was gonna be able to scrub this crap off and slip into class.

Or maybe he should skip the scrubbing, hoof it up to his class, and try to run it off with spit and Kleenex during the lecture. He'd never skipped a class in his life and he wasn't about to start now, not when he was in the most important year of his college career—so far.

Yeah, definitely gonna skip the clean up rather than the class. Seemed like an obvious thing.

Phone back in his pocket, Derek stepped down the hall... Then immediately stopped.

What...

What was that scent?

It wasn't a bad smell, not by any stretch. In fact... as Derek lifted his nose and sniffed the air... fuck, it smelled amazing. Like, like, like... like warm caramel, melted and drizzled over his favorite desserts, teeth-achingly sweet and drool-worthy.

Before he knew what was happening, Derek was turning and chasing it, feet moving on automatic, heart pounding away inside of his chest, body tight and nostrils flaring as he breathed in more of that delicious aroma. There was something about it, beyond just the typical sweetness of the caramel, something else, something more. It wasn't just that the stuff had been drizzled on someone's coffee or topped someone's baked goods. No, this was...

Omega.

The word came to him and despite everything, he couldn't deny that fact, not when his body felt so keyed up. His cock was throbbing in his jeans, his teeth aching to sink into flesh, fingers clawing and unfurling at his sides as he longed to grab hold of whatever scent had grabbed him by the nose and dragged him down the hall, into the bathroom where...

Where only one other person stood, tossing used paper towels into the trash. Derek got enough of a glimpse to note they were male, lean, roughly his own height, dark spiky hair styled similar to his own, then...

Then the next thing he knew, he had this guy, this Omega pinned against the wall, nose buried against the scent gland on the side of his neck. A rumble sounded up from his chest in pleasure, eyes rolling before they fluttered closed, hands clawing at tile. Because, fuck, it smelled even better like this, dizzying, his teeth hurting and body rolling and cock hard as steel. He suddenly understood why Alphas went weak for Omegas, especially their Omega, because this one already had him by the balls and Derek barely knew what he even looked like, but—

Oh.

Oh shit.

Reality hit him in waves and Derek gradually became aware of the situation. He'd gotten completely hypnotized by this scent, lost all control of himself, lost all sense of reasoning and thought and manners. He'd basically accosted an Omega he didn't know, pushed him against the wall and was holding him there against his will.

Because it was definitely against his will. The Omega was hitting and pushing at his chest and shoulders, snarling words Derek couldn't make out over the fuzz in his head, and below the sweet tempting scent of caramel was something spicy that felt like anger.

Derek had fucked up. Oh god, had he fucked up and he immediately backed away, hands help up in supplication and apology. “I am so, very sor—”

A punch to the jaw cut his sentence off.

A damn good one, too. The Omega had clearly put his entire weight behind it and aimed it perfectly so that, along with the element of surprise helping, Derek's head was actually knocked sideways. He blinked, stunned. Had he not been an Alpha, had this man not been an Omega, he'd probably be on his ass, possibly unconscious.

Still smarted either way.

Derek righted his head and touched the spot he'd been hit, the skin tender and stinging. He was gonna bruise. Thank god his beard would cover it so his friends and/or family wouldn't notice or ask and he'd be forced to explain what he'd done to deserve it. Not that he wouldn't also deserve his friends' ridicule and his family's disappointment and chastisement. He deserved worse. Maybe he should have the Omega kick him in the dick and break his nose, since those body parts were the main culprits who'd—

No. Derek was an adult, a grown man, an Alpha who'd also prided himself on self-control and good manners. He should've been able to stop himself, but...

But that scent had caught him by surprise in much the same way that right hook had. He wasn't aware of a whole lot until it was over, something that had never happened to him before.

Because he'd never caught the scent of anyone before.

This was the first time in his life he'd been able to decipher someone's scent, been able to tell they were Omega, been able to...to... to lose himself to it, to obviously bad consequences. He wasn't foolish enough to think that his noseblindness had miraculously been cured. No, more likely, it was that this Omega was special for some reason.

His brows furrowed in confusion and his eyes narrowed in contemplation as he took in the Omega before him. Definitely lean, although the baggy graphic tee and layered short sleeved flannel and size or two too big khakis hid his exact build. Long skinny fingers he was flexing, working out the pain from punching Derek's jaw, which made the Alpha feel even more guilty and apologetic. Dark hair was actually a chocolate brown, not so much styled as rather the result of some serious bedhead. Nothing special really, just a pale, scrawny, brunet Omega that—

That was raising his head from where he'd been checking out his hand, now fixing Derek with a ferocious glare.

Fuck, Derek was wrong. This guy was definitely special,

He wasn't pale so much as porcelain, creamy, like milk Derek wanted to lap at. His skin was decorated by moles like chocolate chips he wanted to taste. His lips were a perfect cupid's bow, bottom one a little plump and perfect for nipping. His jaw was sharp but soft, nose upturned but cute, cheekbones carved but still holding a hint of baby fat. And his eyes? Good fucking god. Past the anger, they were molten pools of caramel so much like his scent and Derek had never felt so much like drowning and dying as he was at that moment.

The Omega was beautiful and Derek felt his breath being stolen and his heart being crushed. His knees felt weak and he was hit by a crippling urge to drop onto them to worship this divine creature, lament his unworthiness while pledging his fealty, his desire to become worthy.

His cock throbbed harder than ever, threatening to burst out through the zipper of his jeans all on its own, and his knot pulsed under the skin in a desire and deep need to bury itself inside the perfect form before him. Derek wasn't a virgin by any means but he'd never been this turned on, this desperate to mate someone. It was almost Rut-like in its intensity, maddening and animalistic, and he had to clench his fists in order to keep his hands to himself.

He'd already made that mistake once.

Narrowed eyes looked him up and down and the Omega curled his lip back in disgust. “Fuckin' Alphas,” he snarled, venomous, disgusted and enraged all at once. “You assholes really think you can go around attacking any Omega you want whenever you want, huh? Fucking typical.”

Derek recoiled at the stereotype, at the accusation. Okay, yes, in this instance, it was absolutely accurate, but he honestly hadn't meant to. He always hated those Alphas that treated Omegas any way they wanted, manhandling and pushing them around and using them. It disgusted him really. Omegas were human beings, not property, and should be treated as such, if not better really. If it weren't for Omegas, life would cease to exist.

And Derek was about to explain all this, about how he'd momentarily lost control of himself because this Omega had smelled so fucking good and he felt sick with guilt, was ready to do literally anything to amend things...

Except the Omega before him snatched up his backpack from where it'd been knocked to the ground and hit Derek with another hate-filled fiery glare that promptly shut the Alpha up before he could even speak.

“You assholes make me sick. Going around fucking whoever you want and however many you want, playing Omegas like fucking cheap board games, but I do the same and I'm a slut.”

The thought of some other Alpha sleeping with this particular Omega had Derek seeing red, hitting some possessive nerve he didn't know he had until that moment. No one should be able to see this Omega naked, much less touch, taste, be inside of. He was Derek's and the Alpha was ready to rip some throats out with his teeth if anyone thought otherwise, a low growl emanating from his chest as his fingers curled into claws.

The Omega snarled back, lips curled up to bare his teeth. “Oh fuck you, you hypocritical piece of shit! Typical Alpha knot-headed fuck, covered in the scents of countless other Omegas, arms baring phone numbers and kiss marks on his cheeks like the fucking whore all of you truly are, but god fucking forbid an Omega isn't virginal when you decide to have your fucking way with them. Go fuck yourself, you fucking puss-filled infected prolapsed anus.” As an exclamation mark, the Omega spat a loogie directly in Derek's face then shoved him aside as he stormed out.

All Derek could do was stand there, frozen in shock and unable to keep up with what happened. The only things he was clear on was that particular Omega was more than likely his Mate, and that he'd majorly fucked the whole thing up.

For the first time in his academic career, Derek Hale skipped a class.

Really, he had no choice. He was already late as hell and now his brain felt fuzzy wasn't working right. He couldn't focus or think or do anything and he knew there was no way he could've paid attention to the lecture. It would've been a waste of time and rude to disturb the other students with his tardy arrival, only to sit there blanking out.

He'd get notes later.

Assuming that thought registered and stuck in his brain in order for him to remember it later on.

Crap.

After spending a prolonged period of time standing there stunned, Derek mindlessly made his way to the sink and began scrubbing the ink off his arms and lipstick off his face. He thought about what that Omega had said about him being covered in the scents of others and he felt strangely dirtied, sullied, tarnished. He was tempted to head back to his apartment or the campus gym—whichever was closer, he couldn't remember that either—and shower, to wash away the unwanted odors of his fan club but...

But as he sniffed at his tee, he could only pick up the smells of his detergent and the Omega and he didn't wanna lose the delicious caramel odor of that man. Felt like his only choice was to reek of others and placate himself with the knowledge that he wore the scent of the one he wanted.

Arms scrubbed raw, Derek finally left the bathroom, then the building. He paused at a vending machine around the corner, finding it out of water but still had soft drinks, settling for a bottle of cola he pressed against his still smarting jaw. He hadn't been knocked like that since his days playing baseball in high school and runners would make dirty slides as he covered second base.

Yeah. Thank god for the beard. It would more than likely camouflage whatever bruise was surely forming at that moment.

Derek wasted time meandering around campus, sticking to the shadows as much as possible to avoid both the heat and recognition from any of his fan club that happened to be hanging around. He sipped at the cola he'd bought when he got thirsty, letting it hang from his fingers when it was no longer cold enough to do any good for his bruise.

Eventually he made his way to the just-barely-off-campus diner where he was supposed to meet Boyd and Erica and not a moment too soon. His feet were beginning to ache and his shirt was soaked with sweat and he wondered if it wouldn't have been better to hang out at the library or student union or even just at the diner, take out his laptop and at least pretend he was working on a paper.

Hindsight, he figured. Not to mention his brain hadn't been working enough earlier to come up with that plan.

The diner was small but popular, its entire client base students from Triskele U. Derek was pretty sure the place shut down during summer months, forcing those who stayed for extra courses or high schoolers who came for academic camps to go elsewhere for grub.

As it was at that moment, the place was halfway populated, not quite lunch rush yet, and Derek snagged a booth in the back since he was the first to arrive. He sat on the side against the far wall, backpack next to him considering he'd be the only one on the bench, and grabbed the napkin dispenser to check out his jaw on the chrome front.

Hard to tell if it was bruised really. The chrome was old and scratched and not meant to be a mirror and his beard definitely obscured his skin. It was for sure tender to the touch and he made a mental note to make sure he didn't mess with the left side of his jaw for any reason.

Still, he reasoned as he exchanged the dispenser for one of the menus it held upright, he couldn't really be mad. He deserved it for accosting that poor Omega. He was a little miffed he hadn't been able to argue against the insults and stereotypes hurled his way and it made him wonder what kind of prosecutor he'd be in the future if he couldn't handle a debate like that.

Then again, a courtroom was more civilized, he knew that much from mock court practicals and countless episodes of Law & Order. Everyone had their turn to speak and the judge kept everyone in line, made sure no one spoke when they weren't supposed to—barring an “objection!”, of course.

What Derek needed to do was create a compelling opening statement, one to catch and hold that Omega's attention, then lay down his argument for why he'd been so wrong in his rush to judgment. He'd lay down his evidence, prove his case, then wrap it up with a perfect closing argument that would no doubt sway the young man.

Well, assuming he ever saw the Omega again.

Derek frowned down at the menu, genuinely unsure if he did, in fact, even want to see the Omega again. Okay, yes, the Omega was by far the most beautiful man Derek had ever laid eyes on, but... but his personality was... kind of shitty. He judged harshly and unfairly and without letting anyone defend themselves. He was angry and snarly and rude. He swore like a sailor—which, okay, Derek couldn't really hold that against him since he didn't exactly abstain from expletives himself—and was incredibly insulting. Derek knew from experience that beauty outside didn't equal beauty inside, remembering his exes Kate and Jennifer and that bitch Kali at his mom's law firm, who thankfully left for another.

In conclusion, the last thing Derek needed was to get fooled by another pretty face.

Or tantalizing scent.

But...

But... could he really be okay not seeing that Omega, not scenting him? For all Derek knew, the guy could've been having a bad day and Derek's actions didn't help, was the last straw causing him to break. Hadn't he just accused the Omega of rushing to judgment and doing so harshly, unfairly? Wasn't he doing that very thing himself?

Not to mention, that he'd also had a rush to judge moment of believing that Omega could be his Mate. Felt a little far-fetched an hour later.

Or did it?

Hard to tell really.

The only way to tell would be to see the guy again, which brought his circular thinking back around to his solitary debate over whether he even wanted to do that and...

And he was getting a headache.

Glaring at this menu like it was the root of all his problems rather than an innocent laminated piece of paper wasn't helping anything either.

“You're thinking awfully hard for a guy who orders the same thing every single time.”

Lifting his head, Derek caught sight of the third of his trio of friends, Erica Reyes, red lips pulled into a smirk. Her loosely curled blonde hair fluttered in a self-created breeze, stilettos clicking sharply as she strode toward him, hips swaying beneath a leather mini-skirt the same black shade as her strapless corset and lacy top. Derek always thought she dressed like one of the witches from American Horror Story and he could easily imagine her fitting in with a group of powerful women, destroying men's lives and looking fabulous while doing so.

Behind her—predictably—was her other half, Boyd, tall, dark, and powerful in his own right and Derek rose to greet them both, receiving a hug and cheek kiss from Erica, a hand-slap-one-arm-hug from Boyd.

“Braeden told me you missed class,” Boyd unnecessarily pointed out and Erica aimed an arched eyebrow Derek's way as she slid into the opposite side of the booth from him.

“Didn't think you were capable of skipping,” she teased, her two male companions taking their seats.

Derek rolled his eyes and Erica grinned cheekily with her tongue between her teeth and he flashed back to four years ago when they were still a senior and freshman, just in high school. He tutored for extra cash and she struggled with Econ—apparently the teacher at her school was borderline insane—and the two of them became fast friends. According to her, he was the only Alpha she felt one-hundred percent comfortable around, prompting him to confess his noseblindness as well as assure her that he was raised better than to automatically hit on any Omega in the vicinity or believe they owed him something solely due to their dynamics.

It wasn't long before he introduced her to Boyd and the irrepressible force known as “Berica” was born.

Arm slung over the back of the booth behind his girlfriend, Boyd gave Derek a pointed look. “Seriously. What the hell happened to you, man?”

Well, shit.

Derek felt his ears get hot and his stomach roll in guilt and embarrassment. There was no way he was admitting he was late because he'd accosted some poor Omega in the bathroom then hid in shame, figuring he might as well just skip. Losing control of oneself was never something anyone ever wanted to admit and in this case, it was even more so.

Meaning... he was just gonna omit that little bit about the Omega, especially to his friends: another Omega who would ultimately be upset and offended and rightfully pissed at his actions, and a Beta who wouldn't understand Alphan instincts or the overwhelming control an Omega can have on them.

Not that Derek could understand or relate a mere two hours ago. But now he knew first hand and knew Boyd wouldn't get it, despite being with an Omega. It wouldn't hit a Beta the same way.

And since neither of them would understand, Derek decided just to keep it to himself. Totally sleazy and pretty fucked up but it felt like the only real option he had.

Or at least he managed to convince himself of that.

Because it was a large campus with an equally large student population so chances of running into that random Omega were slim. The chance of him losing his friends if they found out what perverted, barbaric, noncon shit he'd pulled... yeah, that was high.

He wasn't gonna risk it.

So... omission.

Still left him with a question he had to answer but that response easily came in nanoseconds.

“I went to scrub all that crap off my arms but it took longer than I thought. By the time I finished, I was beyond late and figured I'd disrupt class if I tried entering so I just skipped.”

Not a lie. That had, in fact, been his reason for not going. Just maybe not the entire truth about why he was late.

Boyd narrowed his eyes analytically and Erica grabbed his arm, flipping it over to inspect the inside of his forearm. Her fingers smooth over the remnants of ink he couldn't get rid of and he hissed at the sharp sting of his scrubbed raw skin being irritated. She shot him an apologetic look before grinning as she released him and sat back once more.

“Fan club gotcha again, huh?” she teased.

Derek groaned as his head fell back, scrubbing at his face. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

Boyd snorted and Erica giggled, nudging his calf with the pointed toe of her shoe. “Okay then. Can we talk about your scent instead, 'caaaause—” she stretched the word out, causing Derek to drop his hands, ready to lift his head to glare at what he was sure was her cheeky smile resurfacing, only...

Only he caught the scent of something... someone else.

Over the smells of grease, oil, and coffee was that same tooth-aching, drool-inducing, body-melting, skin-tingling, soul-igniting caramel scent he'd caught earlier. The one he'd chased into the bathroom. The one that had totally taken control of him. The one...

His head lifted, throat vibrating on a purr, vision sharpening, zeroing in on...

Yep, there he was, the Omega from earlier, frozen halfway down the aisle between booths and tables. He was dressed in a different graphic tee and short-sleeved plaid overshirt and his hair was messier, like he'd been running his fingers through it, but...

There was no denying that scent.

And the way his eyes widened in surprise then narrowed in anger, lip curling back in a sneer at the sight of Derek... yeah, this wasn't an identical twin situation. It was definitely the same guy.

Fuck.

Or fuck yes.

Derek wasn't sure.

Although from the look on the Omega's face, it was clear how he felt about their unexpected reunion.

Derek should talk to him.

He should get up and go over and apologize first and foremost, then suggest they get a table to themselves where Derek could apologize some more and explain everything. It wouldn't excuse his behavior of course, but maybe it would help the Omega understand that it wasn't anything personal or an Alpha acting as though his Dynamic gave him blanket permission to do anything he wanted to anyone he wanted, especially Omegas. It was a single moment of weakness as Derek became overwhelmed by this single Omega's incredible scent, a phenomena he'd never experienced before and had clearly been unable to handle.

Still sounded like he was trying to excuse his inexcusably bad behavior though. Not to mention it made Derek himself come across as weak and pathetic and a failure as an Alpha on several levels. But hopefully it would lead to an understanding of sorts, lead to the Omega not hating him, lead to...

Lead to what? Wasn't like the guy would exchange numbers or agree to a date. Hell, Derek would be lucky if the Omega even agreed to hear him out, much less...

Wait, no. Didn't he already have the thought earlier that he had no time for dating?

Then again, wasn't like Fate cared about how busy one's life was when they pulled this sorta crap.

If they were even Fated Mates...

Something in Derek's gut was telling him they were. After all, there had to be some reason why Derek could pick up his scent, discern that he was an Omega, when for years, decades really, he couldn't do so. It wasn't latent abilities suddenly popping up or his nose finally getting its shit together at a random moment, not when his fan club was a blob of nothing and the only thing he got from Erica was hairspray and make-up. This Omega was the only one he'd been able to tell was an Omega, was the owner of the only scent Derek had ever been able to pick up.

It had to mean something.

At the moment though, all it meant was that pulling a Toucan Sam and following his nose had gotten him in a whole lotta trouble that he wasn't sure he'd be able to get out of.

“Derek?!”

The sharp bark of his name had him jerking, snapping back to reality. He blinked, vision returning to normal, like going from hi-def to standard, making him realize they'd been bleeding Alpha red.

Not helping his case more than likely.

Turning back to those at the table, he found Erica grinning in amusement and Boyd frowning in curiosity and Derek once again ignored the way his ears felt like they were on fire.

Happening too often that day. Especially since his older sister wasn't involved, with her uncanny ability to embarrass the shit out of him at the drop of a hat.

At the expectant looks on his friends' faces, Derek let out an “I'm fine”, causing Erica to giggle and Boyd to raise his eyebrow.

“No one asked you if you were okay,” he deadpanned and Derek's ears grew even hotter. “No one said anything except your name.”

Shit.

Erica turned around to see what had obviously distracted him, arm waving wildly when she apparently recognized someone, yelling out a “Stiles!” that had Boyd flinching at the volume directly in his ear. She shoved at him until Boyd stood up, allowing her to slide out the booth and skip over to...

To the Omega.

Goddammit. Of course it was Derek's luck that not only had the Omega he'd accosted showed up at the same diner he was currently hanging at, but he also happened to know one of Derek's closest friends. Why wouldn't he? It only made sense that out of everyone in the large student population, they'd know each other somehow, someway.

Erica clung to the Omega and the Omega hugged back, shooting one last glare at Derek over her shoulder that was immediately wiped away as she pulled back to say something. Instead, his face morphed into a warm smile, eyes wrinkling at the corners from it, and Derek felt his breath being stolen once more. Jesus fuck, and he'd thought the Omega was beautiful before when he'd been nothing but fiery glower and angry snarls. Like this, happy and pleased and content around someone he actually liked...

Derek was dying.

Or had already died and God—if he or she existed—was unsure if Derek deserved Heaven or Hell and was throwing him back and forth between the two at a rapid rate.

Understandable.

He wasn't sure what he deserved either.

Turning away, Derek caught sight of Boyd watching him with the previous curious frown and Derek glanced away from that, too, eyes fixed onto the menu and ears like a five-alarm fire. They had to be a bright angry red at that point, noticeable and obvious and Derek was definitely in for a lot more of those long, curious looks until he finally caved and confessed all his sins like a penitent before his maker.

He only just managed to resist the urge to slam his head against the table and try to knock himself into a coma so he could wake up several years later when all of this was over and forgotten about.

Stilettos clicked on the tile floor, louder as Erica drew closer, and... and that caramel scent grew stronger, spiced with annoyance, feet slapping as the Omega followed Erica to the table. Derek froze all over, white-knuckling the menu, lungs stopping in his chest. If he didn't smell the Omega, then he couldn't get in trouble, couldn't hurt him, couldn't do anything against his will again. He was better than that, stronger than that, he could...

He could totally melt into the bench, into the floor, because he couldn't hold his breath all that long and inhaled more of that warm caramel and fuck. Derek had to bite back a purr, had to stiffen his spine so he didn't slump down and actually melt. But he couldn't stop his head from falling to the side to put his own scent glands on display, to bare his neck and throat in submissive offer. He couldn't stop his eyes from going half-lidded as he felt drunk on the scent, mind fuzzy and empty of everything except so good, so very fucking good. He couldn't stop his cock from hardening in his pants once more or his knot from throbbing all over again or his hips from...no, he could stop his hips from rolling. His mother had raised him better than that. He wasn't a fucking animal.

A throat was cleared pointedly and he held his breath again as he turned to the sound, to the Omega standing there, glaring at him then down at the booth seat. Oh. Oh!

Oh...

Well shit. Derek had thought that he was having lunch with just Boyd and Erica but apparently having run into this friend, he'd been invited to join. Or maybe it was just a temporary joining while he was waiting for his own clique or whatever. That would be the dream scenario in all this really, just a few minutes of holding onto his control then the Omega leaves when his friends showed up and Derek never saw him again.

Was that really the dream scenario though?

Yes. It had to be. For the Omega's sake, for his own sanity's sake.

The Omega gestured down to the seat with his head and Derek snapped out of it, realized his backpack was in the way. He pulled it closer as he scooted as far against the wall as possible, giving the Omega space to sit as well as putting as much distance between them that he could in order to dilute that scent and keep his wits about him.

Not that it would do much good but it was the only hope he had and delusion was better than nothing.

Or something, god damn he couldn't think.

The Omega put his own backpack next to Derek's then sat down close to the edge as well. Hell, he looked tense, like he was ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, and Derek felt that earlier ball of guilt return, heavier than before. Suddenly he wasn't hungry so he put the menu down on the table. A second later, he slid it over to the Omega, an offering of providing food and also taking away the need to reach over for his own, reaching in front of the Alpha and risking anything. He left the menu in front of their backpacks but pointing to the Omega then sat on his hands, figuring it would be safest.

Erica and Boyd had retaken their previous seats, the actions not unnoticed by the Beta who gave Derek yet another curious look and Derek could practically see the list of questions forming in Boyd's head. Not that Boyd would voice them. He hated people butting into his shit so he didn't do it to other people either. Meaning he would just wait it out until Derek's inevitable caving in.

Fuck. And Derek had been thinking he'd gotten away with his lie-by-omission regarding his skipping class.

“Okay!” Erica clapped her hands together and grinned wide and Derek felt grateful for the distraction, even if it felt like she was calling a meeting together.

Which...

Shit. Maybe Derek had been wrong about the Omega joining them being temporary. Maybe he'd been invited in the first place like Derek had.

“Derek, Stiles. Stiles, Derek,” she gestured back and forth between the two men opposite her and Derek glanced out the corner of his eye at the Omega, at the way his eyes narrowed slightly and a muscle in his jaw ticked at the sound of the Alpha's name.

Terrific.

This meal was gonna suck.

And the food would have nothing to do with it.

“Now that we're all gathered, we have some news.” At that, Erica wrapped her hands around one of Boyd's and gave him a lovey-dovey look, batting her eyelashes and smiling warmly in a way Derek only ever saw aimed at him. And Boyd in turn gave her a soft smile right back, another expression that was only used with the other. It made Derek's chest ache, wishing he had the same...

He glanced at Stiles once again, the Omega appearing more curious than anything else, reminding Derek that Erica had said they had some news...

Which...

What the hell? As far as Derek knew, this was just them hanging out and grabbing some grub. And what kind of news didn't involve Isaac but did involve Stiles? Shouldn't the curly haired Omega be there also?

With one last exchange of warm looks, the couple turned to their friends, hands still clasped together, smiles still on their faces. “We're eloping,” Erica announced with a huge grin, Boyd nodding in back-up, and Derek...

Derek blinked, eyebrows raising momentarily in surprise, only to lower as he realized that...yeah, that made sense. Boyd barely spoke to his parents, hadn't really been close to them in years, not since his sister's death and the two of them began paying more attention to their dead child rather than their still living one. And Erica's parents had died when she was young, raised by the foster care system until she aged out then crashed on Boyd's couch when she was no longer allowed to stay with the family she'd been living with. Mating ceremonies were for families, loved ones witnessing the joining of the couple and said families becoming one, blah blah blah. The actual Mating and the Bite was a more private affair that took place behind closed doors rather than in public spaces the way they had been in centuries long since past.

So since they didn't have much in the way of families, it made perfect sense for Boyd and Erica to make a big deal of anything and have a whole huge ceremony.

Didn't quite make sense for this announcement though. Usually people just went ahead, did the Bites, then told people what happened after the fact. Derek honestly had been waiting to stumble upon one of them sporting a new Bite Mark on their scent gland and hearing about how they just went ahead and did it almost spur of the moment-like.

“And we want you guys to be a part of it.”

Okay, that had Derek rearing his head back in surprise. He'd just assumed that the two of them would be skipping the ceremony altogether but apparently not. Apparently they were still going through with that part and somehow Derek was to be involved.

Well, Derek and Stiles.

Who was staring at Erica with a soft look in molten eyes, one side of his lips curled up in a smile, scent warm and content and pleased. Fuck, Derek wanted to bury his face in the guy's neck and inhale it with every breath but he held back, turning to focus solely on his two friends as they glanced back and forth between the recipients of their news. Or at least Erica was, with a slightly nervous wobble to her smile. Boyd seemed to be focused solely on Derek and the Alpha refused to decipher what was in his dark eyes, what he was thinking, pretending as though it was just him waiting for a response.

“I'd be honored,” he stated, grinning at them as the weight of their announcement finally sank in. Boyd and Erica hadn't considered any family for their special day, for the most important day of their lives, yet wanted Derek to be a part of it. He was important enough to them, special enough to be included, wanted.

Was enough to bring a tear to a man's eye.

And as he sniffed, he realized that... yeah, okay, he was tearing up.

Erica grinned wide at him, bouncing slightly before turning an expectant look to Stiles. Stiles himself gave a disdainful glance at Derek before sighing and giving Erica a smile of his own, although it seemed slightly strained. The Alpha hoped like hell that it was because of him and not because Stiles disapproved of Erica and Boyd's plan to elope, really not wanting to argue with the guy, not after they'd already gotten off to such a shit start only an hour or so ago.

“Me, too,” Stiles answered, sounding perfectly genuine, his expression a lot softer than before. Definitely not the elopement he was disapproving of then. Just Derek's involvement.

Erica let out a high pitched squeal and giggle before throwing herself over the table to wrap an arm around the necks of both Stiles and Derek, hauling them in for an awkward hug. “Thank you guys so so much! It just wouldn't be the same without either of you there as the best men and witnesses.”

Leaning over the table, Derek awkwardly wrapped an arm around her back and patted it, her shoulder awkwardly pressing into his throat. Not that it mattered, not that he even felt it all that much. No, his mind was fuzzy with the intensity of Stiles' scent, how close it was, the way their shoulders were pressed together and shooting sparks all over his body. Stiles smelled happy, pleased, and Derek hated the jealous part of him that was pissed and upset that he wasn't the cause of his joy.

Stupid. Idiotic. Juvenile.

He was better than this, stronger than this. Not to mention... really, at the end of the day... his reactions and feelings and jealousy and want, they didn't mean anything. Derek had no time for dating, not to mention the fact that Stiles obviously didn't like him. Which really kind of worked in his favor. Lessen the temptation, lessen the chance of him pulling something dumb, lessen the distraction.

At least that's what he hoped.

Erica finally released them and sat back, Derek plopping down onto his own ass, Stiles lowering himself with more grace. The blonde was grinning wide as she carefully dabbed under her eyes with a paper napkin, ridding herself of tears while being cautious of meticulously applied make-up, and Derek decided then and there that it didn't matter who he was being paired with or how he felt towards them, he would do anything to insure that Erica was always as happy and excited as she was at that very moment.

It wasn't just that Derek and Stiles were to have roles within the ceremony itself, but also help with some of the details themselves.

Mainly the reception part.

Erica wanted a nice meal, just the four of them, somewhere fancy, but was leaving the rest of the details to the two best men, deciding she wanted it to be a surprise. Which... dangerous. And bold. As much effort as she put into her appearance, Derek had figured she'd be hands on with the reception as well.

Apparently not.

No, Erica and Boyd were eloping because it was more lowkey and they wanted the event itself to be lowkey so rather than the two best men planning some sort of bachelor or bachelorette party, they were put in charge of the reception.

Which Derek thoroughly objected to. At least mentally.

Because what the hell did he know about receptions? His older sister was Mated, yes, but his role had been relegated to "show up, look nice, make speech, don't drink because you're still underage but I'm gonna sneak you a flute of champagne anyway because your big sis only gets Mated once!" Laura had been a frantic bride to be and the only things Derek could recall about the reception planning was a wine-filled breakdown over how some people were fucking stupid and "didn't they know the difference between ecru and eggshell goddammit?!" Derek never bothered telling her he was one of the idiots who couldn't tell the shades of white apart, just fixed her some coffee and helped her to bed.

Derek also felt like being put in charge of this party was a bad idea because he just flat out didn't fucking have the time. He already felt behind in some of his schoolwork, reading assignments piling up and research papers due soon and he had all those statutes to memorize... Not to mention the LSATs felt like this looming monster just over his shoulder, ready to strike and take him down at a second's notice.

Then there was the thing with Stiles... Being around him felt like a giant risk, like he was bound to make that same mistake as earlier... Especially considering the fact that Stiles' scent was invading his nostrils and filling his lungs more and more as the meal went on and Derek honestly couldn't tell what his burger or fries or coke tasted like because all he knew was warm caramel melting him from the inside out. He was only just able to keep to his side of the bench seat thanks to the backpack barrier that had been created and the knowledge that his friends were right there and the way his jaw smarted as he chewed, like a reminder of the consequences of him not keeping his hands to his damn self.

Yeah. The two of them alone planning this reception felt like a disaster waiting to happen.

But Derek didn't voice his objections.

And neither did Stiles. Who honestly had every right to considering Derek posed a threat. Even if he didn't share what happened between them in that bathroom, he could easily argue a discomfort at working with Derek due to his being an Alpha.

Although Erica would probably argue that away, point out the number of times she'd been alone with Derek and he'd never tried anything on her—even though that was a totally different case since Derek didn't feel drawn to her the way he did Stiles, which she didn't know, and there was no way to explain any of this without admitting to his previous noseblindness and how he'd more or less attacked Stiles before.

Which...

Shit...

Maybe Stiles realized Erica could and would talk him out of any issues he had with working with Derek, so he knew voicing his own objections would be futile, the same way Derek realized that fact. He didn't know how long Stiles and Erica had known one another but it didn't take a whole lot of exposure to the blonde to find out she got her way no matter what, either through use of her Omega wiles or threats she very much followed through on.

It was useless to argue with her once her mind was made up so Derek didn't bother. Neither did Stiles. Both of them just accepted their fate.

'Course that didn't mean they were happy about it, especially Stiles, who practically rushed out the second he finished scarfing down his food. He threw a ten on the table and told them to use the change as tip before snatching up his backpack and racing out. Derek sat stunned for a moment before doing the exact same thing—although he was pretty sure he threw down a twenty rather than a ten but whatever—chasing the Omega...

Which was dumb and what had originally gotten him into trouble...

But just like before, his feet were in charge and he was moving before even thinking about moving, shoving the diner door open and glancing around before finding familiar bedhead and blue plaid.

"Stiles!" he called out before he could stop himself, heart pounding away in his chest, skin prickling in anxiety. Hell, all of him was prickling with anxiety, with dread, with panic. It felt as though he'd never see stiles again, that this was his last shot.

He knew it was stupid, wrong. He'd see the guy again. They had to plan the reception together. But...

But the baser part of him didn't seem to get that, wasn't listening to logic. Latent Alpha instincts were springing to life once more, warning him not to let this Omega get away, to Claim him for his own.

Derek wasn't about to do that latter part of course—not yet, although it felt more like a "not ever" considering how much Stiles didn't like him—but the first part he could do.

If only Stiles would stop.

It was obvious Derek had been heard from the way Stiles cringed, head ducking and shoulders rising as though hiding his neck. But he kept walking, across the street back to campus, ignoring Derek's calls.

Dammit.

Glancing both ways and seeing no traffic, Derek moved against the flow of students heading into the diner for lunch, chasing after Stiles. He had to tamp down the animal part of him that was thrilled at the prospect of a hunt, that was rumbling in his chest as it followed that dizzying sweet caramel scent, like the days of old when Alphas would chase Omegas to mount and Claim them. Those times were long gone and Derek forced himself to focus only on what he wanted to say when he finally caught up to the still retreating man.

Across the street, along the sidewalk lined by a tall red brick wall, just short of the entrance with its iron arch across the top displaying the university's name, Derek was able to reach Stiles, taking hold of his left wrist in order to tug him to a halt.

"Stiles, wai—"

The Omega rounded on him with his right fist in the air and a curl to his lip and Derek immediately released his hold in favor of putting his hands up in supplication, taking a step back.

"Whoa! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--" he rambled over Stiles' low growl. "I just wanna talk to you for a minute and you were clearly ignoring me and weren't gonna stop any time soon."

An ugly snort rocked Stiles, fist lowering to adjust his backpack where the strap had fallen down to his elbow. "Gee, I wonder why."

Derek winced under the harsh tone, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. For grabbing you. And for. What happened earlier."

Honey eyes narrowed at him then rolled as Stiles scoffed. "Whatever," he muttered before turning to leave.

"Wait!" Derek cried out in another burst of panic, reaching to grab Stiles' wrist again but thankfully stopping himself short this time. Stiles pointedly looked at his own arm then Derek's arm then Derek's face, giving him a curious tilt of a single brow. "I wanted to talk to you."

This time, Stiles fully turned to him, arms crossed as he sneered again. "What the fuck makes you think I wanna hear any-fucking-thing you have to say?"

"The fact that you didn't give me a chance to speak earlier?" Derek blurted out without thinking, not fully regretting his words although he probably could've been a little nicer with the tone. But whatever. Wasn't like Stiles was minding his manners either. And he didn't call Derek out on his rudeness, just cocked an eyebrow once more. "And the fact that you and I are gonna be spending a lot of time together leading up to this Mating."

Stiles snorted and shook his head. "No. Fuck that. I'm gonna plan the whole thing alone. You can just take credit the way you Alphas always do."

Derek actually took offense to that, the words like a punch to his chest, and a scowl formed on his face. "For your information, I've always pulled my weight in every project I've ever been involved with." Another snort and eye roll combo but he ignored them both. "What the hell gives you the right to judge me when you don't even know me?"

"Because I've known plenty fucking Alphas just like you. Arrogant, greedy, douchey, thinking they can take whatever the fuck they want without asking, use people however the fuck they want." Stiles sneered. "You think your attractiveness and Dynamic give you a free pass to what-the-fuck-ever but it doesn't. Someone needs to put all you pretty boy assholes in your fucking place and it might as well be me, since no one else will."

Derek was stunned silent as the words sank in and...

Did Stiles just call him pretty?

Okay, not the part he should be focusing on and also not the first time someone had called him a "pretty boy" but...

Stiles had just called him a pretty boy.

Stiles thought he was a pretty boy.

Holy...

His heart was thundering above his Olympic gymnast stomach and his ears were burning hotter than ever as his entire body seemed to shiver. His brain was threatening to completely short circuit on him and he cleared his throat of a lump to try and reboot it, to get it to focus on the actual point he was supposed to be making. He could freak out about the compliment—intended or not—later on in the privacy of his apartment.

"I'm not like that," he managed to argue, voice weak and tremulous and man, did he feel like a dork. Big tough mighty Alpha brought down by a single lean Omega's slip of the tongue.

Stiles' ugly snort seemed to do the trick in getting Derek's head back with it, back in reality and the present moment, where the Omega hated him. "Your actions in the bathroom say otherwise."

Fuck.

Another wince, ears growing impossibly hotter, and Derek... Derek tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck in submission and apology. Stiles actually looked surprised for half a moment, eyes widening and brows raising before they dropped into a scowl.

"Fuck you for thinking your false fucking submission bullshit would get you anywhere."

Derek's frown was puzzled as he raised his head back up. "It's not false," he insisted, despite the confusion leaking into his voice. "I really am sorry about what happened earlier. I wa—"

"Nope! Don't wanna hear it," Stiles cut him off and Derek's frown turned more annoyed than anything.

"So you think all Alphas are rude, pushy assholes who don't care who they hurt as long as they get what they want, yet you, an Omega, won't let me get a single word out when I'm trying to apologize and explain my earlier rude behavior?" He cocked an eyebrow pointedly, head now tilted in curiosity, and he watched as patches of red began forming on Stiles' face.

Oh goddamn because he wasn't cute enough before...

"I don't have to listen to you," Stiles grit out, nostrils flaring in agitation and lip curling once again.

"Oh no, you don't. After all, it's only the polite thing to do," Derek deadpanned and by the twitch in Stiles' gritted jaw, he knew he hit a nerve. Good. Maybe now the Omega will actually hear him out, let him explain, allow him to—

"Whatever," Stiles grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him before adjusting his falling backpack strap again. "I don't have time for this shit right now. I gotta get to class."

Or maybe not.

Dammit this guy was a pain.

Although Derek couldn't fault him for needing to get to class—if that was even the truth and not a clever lie to get out of this conversation. Still, it was frustrating that Stiles refused to give him a chance to just...talk...

He had the perfect excuse to follow up with the guy though...

Stiles was already heading to the gate and Derek quickly moved to his side. "I still want the chance to explain things to you. And we also need to plan Boyd and Erica's reception. You're gonna have to let me talk at some point."

Yet another ugly snort and Derek was inspired to create a new drinking game based on them, a shot for every one Stiles made. "Fine, whatever. Meet me at Wolf's Den tomorrow at two. Work for you?" The words were spoken through a tight jaw, eyes locked forward, feet moving at a fast pace like he could end this conversation faster that way.

Then again, from what Derek knew of the guy, that was definitely what he was trying to do.

Thinking it over, Derek's last class would end at about one-thirty tomorrow. The Wolf's Den Cafe was maybe ten minute walk, depending on foot traffic and fan club interference, but even then, two o'clock seemed plenty time to get there. "Sounds good," he agreed, hustling... Panicking...

Because what if his fan club held him up or his class ran longer or some other emergency arose? The last thing he wanted was to leave Stiles stranded, thinking he'd been ditched, leading him to believe it was another typical Alpha believing his time was more better and plans more important and he didn't have to do what anyone else told him to, go where they said he should.

"Maybe we should exchange numbers though, just in case."

Stiles pointedly glanced down at Derek's arms, at the blank flesh with its barely perceptible dots of red where he'd scrubbed it raw, skin healed over. Honey eyes raised, a scoff this time, and Stiles shook his head. "Think your phone's got enough Omegan numbers in it," he snarled before picking up the pace.

Derek was stunned into stopping, chest hurting at the false allegation. The only Omegan numbers he had were Erica and his cousin's girlfriend—in case of emergencies more than anything. Fighting Stiles' prejudices and setting things straight were gonna be harder than he thought.

Something told him it would be worth the effort though.

For the first time in a long time, Derek took a seat near the back of the lecture hall. He was always front row center during class, total nerd habit, eyes glued to the board or screen or wherever the information was being presented, first to raise his hand to answer or volunteer for whatever.

This time... This time he was as close to the door as possible, annoying the slackers whose usual spot he stole. This time he was focused more on the time than the lecture. This time he was anxiously tapping his foot and packing his things up five minutes before class was set to be let out. And when the professor finally dismissed them, Derek shot out his seat and out the door like a bullet, managing to maneuver down empty halls and out the back door.

He took a circuitous route, sticking to alleys and shadows as he headed across campus to the Wolf's Den Cafe, trying everything in his power to avoid being spotted by some fangirl or another. Meant the trip was an additional five minutes but arriving at quarter til the appointed hour was worth it.

The cafe was brightly lit, walls a deep maroon, furniture a soft gray, floors and counters a light oak. Scanning the tables, he found no sight of Stiles and as he scented the air, all he caught were the smells of coffee and tea and hot milk. Derek had arrived first, unsurprisingly, luckily.

He headed straight for the gender-free bathrooms, straight into the middle one with the ajar door. Knob locked, he put his bag on the hook behind the door then went over to the sink, stripping his shirt off on his way. He put the cotton tee on the counter before washing himself off at the sink with nothing more than damp paper towels and the liquid soap provided by the cafe. Better than nothing though, he figured, hoping it would at least do something to get rid of the scents of others.

At least he assumed there were scents of others on him. Despite his Alphan nature and abilities sparking to life for Stiles the day before, Derek was still totally noseblind to everyone else. And while he'd managed to avoid being totally crowded, he hadn't been able to completely escape the clutches of every single fangirl or boy. A female had held his arm hostage as she insisted upon walking to their shared class and a male had gotten a little touchy-flirty while he'd tried to copy Braeden's notes in the library and a co-ed trio had jostled him about as they competed for his attention in the student union as he tried to grab lunch.

Pretty mellow day now that he thought about it.

Still, he couldn't run the risk of having any of their scents on him, giving Stiles the wrong idea once more, so he tried his best to rid his skin of what he assumed was there. While it hadn't happened that day—or so he thought—he'd previously witnessed the way some folks would rub at the scent glands in a coy manner, trying to draw attention to them and whatever odor they had, then rub his arm or shirt or whatever with that same hand in a not-so-subtle way of trying to mark and stake a claim. It always made him feel dirty and cheap, like he was nothing more than a bush for a dog to piss on, but manners drilled into him by his mom prevented him from calling them out on their skeevy behavior. Besides, chances were most of them would feign innocence and claim they did no such thing or that they hadn't realized which hand they'd been touching him with but hey, didn't he think their scents meshed well together, it must've been a sign.

Derek's stomach churned just thinking about it. He didn't mind the idea or the knowledge that he wore the scents of his family or his close friends. It was meant to be that way, showing which pack he belonged to, just like olden times. But these strangers, people he had no ties to but wanted to claim him somehow...

Gross.

He shuddered physically in the bathroom. Scent exchange like that was supposed to be between those with some sort of connection, as a sign of belonging and protection, not a possessive marking of a stranger to another they found physically attractive. If those people in his fan club really thought that was the way to win him over, then they were way off base—not to mention wasting their damn time.

He tossed the wet paper towels away, sniffed at himself, didn't notice anything, much less if anything had changed. Hard to tell if he'd made any sort of difference really, although he could pick up the smell of the soap so maybe...

With a sigh, he dried himself off with new paper towels before taking his shirt over to his backpack as it still hung on the door. Inspired by Stiles' change of clothes the previous day—which honestly still stung to think about because it was obviously an attempt at ridding himself of Derek's scent after he'd rubbed against him in the bathroom, but Derek couldn't blame him—he'd packed a spare tee to change into and he quickly switched out one black v-neck for another. He also touched up his deodorant, just in case, then made sure he hadn't made a mess of the counter, wiping up stray water he'd accidentally splashed about.

Back in the cafe proper, Derek peered around at all the patrons mingling about. It was still sparsely populated and still void of Stiles, leading him to check his phone for the time. Still ten minutes until their appointed meeting time. No need to worry.

Although that anxiety was starting to gnaw at the center of his chest, carving out a space that ached in its hollowness, making it hard to catch his breath.

He rubbed between his pecs in a futile remedy then headed to the blessedly empty counter to order a drink, picking the first thing that caught his eye.

Caramel frap, naturally.

Extra shot of espresso and extra shot of caramel, of course.

And, of course, the barista behind the counter fluttered her eyelashes as she complimented his order in a ridiculously obvious attempt at flirting. And, of course, the caramel drizzle on top of the whipped cream was not only more than normally would be drizzled but also in the shape of a heart.

Derek said nothing beyond a flat "thanks" and out a single dollar in the tip jar. Ordinarily he'd put all his change but he didn't wanna give her the belief that she had a chance. And as soon as he grabbed a straw from the separate station, he swirled the whipped cream to essentially destroy the heart. He didn't flaunt the action nor did he hide it and he wasn't sure if he wanted her to see and catch the hint or miss so he wouldn't be seen as an asshole.

Another glance around showed Stiles hadn't appeared in the past three minutes it took to get his drink, so Derek headed to a sitting area in a back corner where he could see the door but be obscured from most new arrivals. Three armchairs arranged around a low coffee table and he chose the gray chair facing the door. Backpack on the floor by his feet, he pulled out his laptop, figuring he could maybe try to get some work done, make sense of his messy notes from his last lecture. He had to take his glasses out for it, thick black rims that added to the whole nerd thing he had going on, but whatever. He liked them. He also liked seeing so he didn't really care if he had dorky frames to do it with.

'Course they weren't a whole lotta help in that moment, not when Derek's notes were absolute shit—meaning he was probably gonna have to borrow them from someone again—not when his brain was still elsewhere. They helped him see the time in the bottom left corner though, minutes adding up, the hour turning over, minutes still adding...

Stiles was late.

Alright, maybe he got held up. Class ran long. Friend had an emergency. Stiles himself had an emergency.

This was why Derek had wanted to exchange numbers, in case something came up, they were running late, they had to cancel, whatever.

And okay yeah, he could admit he just wanted Stiles' number. Using it for anything other than reception plans was questionable though. Maybe after time...

Speaking of...

Twenty past.

Maybe Derek was getting stood up. Maybe Stiles was testing him. Maybe the Omega was watching through the large windows and laughing at how he tricked the dumb Alpha into showing and waiting around. Maybe he was back at his dorm—or wherever he lived—laughing.

Maybe Derek needed to chill.

Not a possibility, he thought, knee shaking and jostling his laptop, hand rubbing at his beard. The hole in his chest was getting wider, deeper, more painful. The frap he'd consumed was thrown around in his rioting stomach and he felt nauseous. The uncomfortable prickle at his skin grew more intense and he swallowed back a whimper of sadness at the thought of—

A wave of caramel hit him, stronger than what had been in his drink. His nostrils flared as he scented the air, body tightening and lighting up. Heart pounding, skin tingling, cock twitching, stomach flipping, teeth aching...

His nose dragged his head up, eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled that sweet warmth into his lungs, holding back the growl it created. Lids slowly lifting, Derek was strangely surprised to find Stiles standing just inside the entrance...

No, it wasn't Stiles' presence that was the surprise but rather... His expression... There was no angry scowl or annoyed glare or judgmental sneer, just a wide eyed gaping mouthed surprise of his own as he... as he stared at Derek.

Which...

Okay, Derek knew Stiles had some prejudices against Alphas, but had he honestly expected Derek not to show? If anything, Derek should be the one worried about being stood up. Hell, he had been worried about that, had been seriously considering it as a possibility, only for his mood to pull a total one-eighty the second he smelled Stiles' sweet caramel scent. He was no longer the puppy left at the pound but the grateful overjoyed one whose owner had returned.

Not that Stiles owned him.

He could if he wanted to, Derek was totally cool with Stiles owning him.

Snapping his jaw shut, Stiles seemed to swallow hard judging by the bob of his Adam's apple before adjusting his grip on his backpack. He wore another graphic tee—this one black with a parody of the Starbucks logo featuring a Storm Trooper—paired with another red plaid short sleeve overshirt and baggy khaki pants, hair just as messy as before, and Derek...

Derek finally understood all those annoying fools comprising his fan club because he'd follow this Omega anywhere, do anything he wanted.

He wouldn't, of course. That was creepy and potentially illegal, not to mention just flat out fucking annoying, and altogether wasn't the way to prove anything to Stiles.

Neither was sitting and staring, he realized.

Rising to his feet, he nearly lost his laptop, belatedly remembering to catch it before it crashed against his foot or the floor or both. He closed the computer and placed it on the coffee table, nearly knocking his nearly empty frap onto the floor, quick reflexes saving him on that one, too. He swore under his breath as he fixed his belongings, insuring nothing was about to fall, then raised his eyes to find...

To find Stiles fighting a smirk as he walked over, eyes wrinkled at the corners, fingers trying to cover the curl of his lips without making it obvious.

Derek honest to god stopped breathing.

Which was a damn shame because he was missing Stiles' scent and... yep, there it was, the light happy note of amusement that had Derek grinning like a dope even though he knew he was being laughed at rather than with.

Whatever. Worth it.

Dropping his backpack onto an armchair, Stiles plopped onto the one opposite Derek, clearing his throat and sniffing as though he could wipe away the amusement he'd been trying to hide. Derek himself stood there awkwardly, unsure why he'd been expecting anything in way of greeting, hitching up his jeans before sitting back down in his own armchair. His heart was beating rabbit fast, throat suddenly parched, and he snatched up his drink to try and gain some relief.

“Sorry I'm late,” Stiles finally spoke and Derek waved it away as he continued to suck up the remnants of his frap, of melted whipped cream. “Gotta be honest though. Kinda surprised you're here.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at that, straw audibly sucking air now, and he put the empty back on the table as he leveled the confused look at the other man. “Why? Did you think I'd give up and go home?”

Slumping, Stiles shrugged a shoulder as one leg began to wag back and forth. “More like I thought you wouldn't show in the first place.”

Okay, now the confused frown was turning into an agitated glare. “Right. Because I'm an Alpha and you've got some sort of ill-conceived prejudice against all of us that you're holding against me without even knowing me.”

An ugly snort and Derek decided to try and keep tally of them in his head. “Not ill-conceived, fuck you very much. It's what experience has taught me. And considering your behavior in the bathroom the other day--”

“Which I've apologized for.”

Stiles glared at the interruption but Derek remained unrepentant. If the Omega was gonna be rude, then so would he.

Even with his mom's voice in his head chastising him.

“You're not the first Alpha to try some shit like that,” Stiles stated, thumb tapping against the arm of the chair. “Although I will admit, you are the first to back off without trying to go any further.”

Derek's eyes narrowed further, lip curling back and a growl rumbling up his throat. He hated Alphas like those, too, had even gone after one in high school that had tried some shit with Isaac. To think that they'd also forced themselves on Stiles like that...

Right, what was he even gonna do? Chances were those incidences had taken place a while ago and the Alphas were long gone. Besides, considering the right hook Derek had received—and the bruise that still stung when pressed against—Stiles was obviously perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Derek was just... Alpha posturing really, an old fashioned notion that he needed to be the one to protect and defend and avenge their Omega.

When Stiles wasn't even his to begin with.

Shit.

He cut off the growls and swiped at his face, putting on a more neutral expression. “I'm sorry that happened to you. You don't deserve any of it, regardless of your Dynamic. And I once again apologize for my own inexcusable behavior. It was a moment of weakness and while I'd like to promise it will never happen again, I don't have any sort of future-telling powers so I can't really say. The only thing I can promise is that I will try my utmost to not let it happen.”

Although even that felt like a stretch well beyond his capabilities. Because now Stiles' scent was getting stronger, blooming with a sense of happiness and appreciation and fuck, Derek had to dig his fingers into the arms of his chair to keep himself planted in it, tensing his thighs to stop himself from standing or rolling his hips in a manner highly inappropriate for their location.

It was gonna be the biggest test of his willpower and self-restraint, but goddammit, he was gonna do it. Stiles deserved better than what he'd pulled the previous day, deserved better than what those other Alphas had done to him, and Derek was better than all of that. He just needed to act like it, like he had some sense and civility.

Stiles' eyes narrowed as they looked Derek over critically, for a sign of a lie or reason to mistrust, lips twisting around. Whatever conclusion he came to, Derek never found out, because the second Stiles opened his mouth to speak, he was rudely interrupted by a buoyant “'scuse me”.

Dammit.

Derek turned to find the barista from earlier standing beside his chair, another frap in hand that looked much like the one he'd just finished. She smiled coyly down at him, head tilted to the side, free hand sweeping her hair back to put her scent gland on further display, hip cocked and more buttons of her polo uniform shirt undone.

He inwardly groaned, gritting his jaw to hold back any aggravated sigh. Dealing with flirtatious folks who didn't take a hint very well was annoying enough on the best of days. Having to deal with it as an interruption during his conversation with Stiles was fucking beyond all words and it took every ounce of manners taught to him to not chew the girl out.

“I didn't order that,” he pointed out in as level a ton as he could manage and he didn't miss the way her eyes dropped to his lap.

Fucking skeevy.

“It's on the house,” she said with a wink, pushing it towards him with the order label facing him, something written... yeah, that was definitely a phone number written on there, with a cheesy heart and smiley face with it, along with a name he had no interest in reading.

Shit. Derek was caught. He couldn't turn it down because then he'd be rude, but he'd also be rude to Stiles if he did take it, would give both of them the wrong impression. Rock and hard place never involved so much caramel.

So...

Turning to Stiles, he took note of the wrinkle on the Omega's nose, like he was smelling something he didn't like, clearly displeased with something—or probably someone, considering the stink-eye he was also leveling at the barista girl. Derek put a friendly smile on his face, easygoing, hoping his next suggestion was a good middle ground that wouldn't piss Stiles off further or get this barista in trouble for the free drink—as well as be another hint towards her regarding his insane disinterest.

“Caramel frap?” he offered. “I had an extra shot of espresso in mine earlier, but I dunno if this one has it?” He gave the barista a curious tilt of the brow, finding her gaping at him in obvious disbelief that he was essentially regifting her creation.

“Uh, yeah. It does,” she replied meekly, getting the hint she'd been rejected. Her smile was phony, shaky, and Derek almost felt bad if not for the fact that she'd pretty much brought it upon herself—not to mention was rude as hell for interrupting them.

At least she'd said “'scuse me”, he figured.

Stiles gave the barista a saccharine smile, smug and bratty as his scent grew stronger once again, making Derek sink into his chair with its intensity. Fuck, it was so good and Derek felt dizzy, drunk, light and heavy all at once and...

Shit, he didn't know what.

But the Omega making him feel so gooey and melty and frustrated and hard all at once was rising to his feet and snatching the frap from the barista, mischievous grin plastered on his face. “I love espresso shots,” he stated in a way that made Derek think maybe there was more to the words than their surface meaning, but more importantly, he filed the information away for future use. Flopping back onto the seat, Stiles took an exaggerated drink then began peeling away the sticker with her name and number. “Thanks, uh, Sheila,” he read then shot her a grin then crumpled it up.

The barista—Sheila, apparently—gave another false smile created by her experience in customer service more than anything, then walked away dejected, head hanging and shoulders slumped. Stiles gave another victorious smile around the straw, kicking his feet up on the coffee table before turning to Derek...

Who let out a relieved sigh now that the whole thing was over. God, he didn't know how much more of that shit he could take. He liked to think it would end whenever he got Mated, that wearing his Mate's scent and their Bite would be a huge hint that he was taken and to not bother trying anything but...honestly, who the fuck knew? Some people were just fucking shameless and that wouldn't stop them either.

Forever screwed apparently.

“That happen a lot?”

Derek dropped his hand from where he'd been rubbing at his eyes, finding Stiles staring at him with a curious tilt to his head and twist to his lips. It felt like a loaded question, whether Stiles meant it to be or not. Because if he told the truth and said “yes, getting hit on by random strangers was a daily occurrence” then Derek ran the risk of sounding like a cocky asshole Alpha, just like Stiles repeatedly accused him of being. But if he said “no, not really”, then he was lying, something Stiles would eventually figure out should they spend more time together.

Felt like Derek was gonna lose no matter which way he went.

He let out a small sigh and adjusted his glasses where they sat on the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately,” he muttered, resigned smile curling up one side of his lips. “I guess it's meant to be flattering or something like that, but honestly, it's annoying and disruptive, especially when it's pretty much always unwelcome.”

Stiles blinked rapidly then furrowed his brow. “I meant—her scent, was like—” he paused, grimacing at the memory of whatever her scent had been and Derek waited patiently for him to figure out his words, honestly clueless as to what Stiles was referring to. “It was fucking lethal. Like, I feel like everyone in this cafe is gonna reek of her, she was putting it out there so much, and you just. You sat there.”

Huh. Well, then...

Derek glanced at the barista who was looking forlorn as she wiped down a counter, shoulders heaving with a sigh, then fixed a confused look on Stiles. “Was I supposed to do something else?”

More confusion, Stiles scrubbing his hand through his messy hair. “No, I just—never mind, whatever.” Sitting up, he reached for his backpack and dragged it over onto his lap. “So I did some research about the mountain resort Boyd and Erica are eloping to.” He trailed off as he unzipped his bag and reached inside, looking for something.

The change of topic did nothing to alleviate Derek's own feelings of being totally and completely lost regarding damn near everything but... But it wasn't like there was anything else he could do or say. Stiles was clearly done, had dismissed whatever had been on his mind in favor of a new subject, one they really should be focusing on anyway, the reason for their meeting.

Still, as Derek sat forward in his seat to get a better view as Stiles pulled out his own laptop, his mind kept wandering to what the Omega had been trying to say, trying to hint at, trying to question. It felt as though he was missing something, a big piece that would make it all make sense.

A query for another day, he knew, forcing himself to focus on what Stiles was saying about a lodge and a dining hall. Stiles was being civil, was listening, was giving Derek a chance to speak and didn't object when the Alpha switched to the adjacent armchair his backpack had previously occupied in order to look at the laptop easier, and as his scent shifted to something warm and content, Derek knew that he'd have to take what he could get.

And what he was getting was pretty damn good.

They spent two hours in that cafe, discussing ideas for décor and researching the best places to get it. The elopement was taking place that weekend, which didn't leave a whole lot of time for most things to get shipped, but luckily for them both, Derek had his own Amazon Prime account and bank cards, meaning no one in his family would be aware of him ordering curtains of string lights in pure white or tulle table skirts or “Mr & Mrs” freestanding letters or “Just Mated” signs. There'd be several questions.

Some things they couldn't get online though, either because it wouldn't make it in time or cost more than it would be in a store or Stiles was paranoid about arriving broken—which understandable—so they agreed to a schedule of sorts. All of the items they'd ordered were set to arrive Thursday, giving them time to look through it all, make sure it all worked and were in good condition, nothing missing or damaged. Then that evening, they'd go out and get the rest of what they required. Friday, they'd drive up to the mountains and help set up for the ceremony and then take care of the reception—worst case scenario, they'd be up early Saturday to do the latter—then the Mating ceremony itself was the next day. They'd pick up the cake from a local bakery, have a lowkey dinner, then bid the newly Mated couple goodnight before heading back to campus on Sunday.

It was rushed and part of Derek felt frantic—especially when he thought of lost study time—but it was for a man who was practically a brother to him and a girl who'd become an extra sister over the years. He knew they'd do the same for him and it was the least he could do considering the honor of being invited at all.

Wednesday felt disgustingly and annoyingly normal. His fanclub accosted him between classes and he found himself staring at the sky and apologizing for every wrong he'd ever done to deserve this once more, Boyd and Isaac laughing again before actually saving his ass. He draped himself on Boyd and pledged fealty to him if he'd never let Derek suffer that same fate ever again. Boyd just chuckled and Isaac scoffed in offense that he hadn't been given the same offer and Derek pointed out his scrawny ass wasn't much of a threat.

Early Thursday, Derek found several packages waiting for him outside his apartment door and he shot a text about them to Stiles—who'd felt civil enough to actually give it to Derek after the cafe da—meeting on Tuesday to give it to him. They made arrangements for the Omega to come over that afternoon to go through the boxes with him and Derek was nearly late to class due to his frenetic cleaning of an already neat apartment.

Probably another latent Alpha thing springing to life, he figured, considering how he only ever got so panicked over cleanliness when his mom was coming to visit and most likely to judge over his towels being hung wrong or a few crumbs on the counter or the dust on top of the TV. But no, this time it was a weird need to prove to Stiles that he was able to provide a good, clean, neat den and...

God, he needed to get this crush under control.

Inviting the guy over was probably a bad idea now that he was thinking about it. That scent was gonna linger in the air and in his furniture, driving him crazy with how good it smelled and how Derek couldn't have the real thing. Not to mention the sleaziness and unsubtle implications of an Alpha inviting an Omega over to their place. Stiles had a lot of prejudices still and while he was being a lot less hostile towards Derek, it didn't mean those had been completely eradicated. Chances were Stiles was just resigned to the fact that they had to work together for Erica's sake and that after Sunday, it was all over and they'd never have to see each other again, but until then, it would just make everyone's lives easier if he wasn't purposely antagonistic all the time.

Fuck, the realization that this would all be over in a few days had that hollow ache back in Derek's chest and he spent his day off and on rubbing at his pecs to rid himself of it.

Didn't really do anything but he figured it was a psychosomatic relief more than anything.

His anxiety climbed the closer it grew to the appointed hour, although part of Derek was convinced that Stiles would be late again... except... at three on the dot, there was a buzz alerting him to a new arrival and sure enough... it was Stiles.

A last minute rush around his apartment to make sure—for the five hundredth time—that everything was perfect, that his own looks were perfect without appearing as though he'd put a whole lot of effort into it. Which was dumb. Because it was obvious he'd showered to scrub away the scents of others—he assumed he'd been covered with once again, a thought that was still as disturbing and upsetting as before—his hair damp but styled, beard more neatly trimmed. His shirt was another v-neck, this one in olive green that Erica told him made his eyes pop, black jeans tight and flattering, boots recently shined up.

God, it honestly couldn't have been more obvious that he was trying to impress this Omega.

He hoped like hell it worked.

A knock on his door and Derek felt his heart thundering so loud it was most likely audible for the entire building. He forced himself to take a couple deep breaths, though it did nothing to quell the way his lungs felt shaky and his stomach rolled and his skin tingled. With trembling hands, he unlocked and opened his door, wearing what he hoped was a pleasant, welcoming smile and not obvious in how he was forcing himself to look and act normal, to not be that excitable dog whose owner had just come home from a long trip away.

But when he look at Stiles, at his maroon hoodie playing off his creamy skin and trademark khakis and adorably mussed up hair... when he got a whiff of that caramel scent, warm and sweet and inviting... Derek realized that he was already far too gone on him. It felt like forever since he'd been able to see the Omega, been able to take in that scent, been able to hear him as he gave a casual “hey, man”. Derek's entire body felt tight with need and the necessity of holding himself in place, grip on the doorknob so tight it hurt.

Stiles was beautiful and untouchable and Derek was gonna spend the rest of his life lamenting the loss of him.

Stepping aside, Derek swept his arm in front of him as he told Stiles to come on in, told him to drop his backpack wherever he wanted. The apartment opened right up to the living room, kitchenette to the left, and Stiles dropped his bag on the floor by the door before entering further. The boxes were situated around the coffee table, printed out list of what they'd ordered sitting on top so they could check things off as they went, and Derek figured Stiles would go straight for it. As far as he knew, Stiles was going along with this because he had no choice but that didn't mean he'd be around Derek any longer than necessary, further meaning he'd just wanna get this shit over and done with as soon as possible.

Except...

Once again, Derek felt proven wrong by Stiles' actions, the Omega inhaling as he scented the apartment, his own caramel aroma getting deeper, stronger, and fuck, Derek damn near collapsed against the door he still held open from how goddamn good it was. His knees felt weak, cock at half-mast just from this, and he found his free hand reaching out to grab hold of Stiles, to try and drag him closer and--

Derek sharply turned away, focused on closing the door over, leaving it unlocked as a sign that Stiles could trust him, that he wasn't some knot-headed Alpha luring the Omega into a trap. Just because Stiles was in his apartment, in his den, it didn't mean Derek was expecting anything to happen between the two of them and he didn't want to give Stiles that impression. He wanted to make sure Stiles knew he could leave at any time.

So he moved away from the door, yet kept plenty space between himself and his guest, not pressuring or crowding, making his way over to the kitchenette. “Want a drink? I got instant coffee, tea, water. Not much of a choice, sorry.”

Stiles turned to face him and... were his eyes...no, he blinked and the gold was gone. It was just the lighting that made Derek imagine they were glowing an Omega gold, just his natural color and wishful thinking.

Right?

Not that he could ask really. With Stiles being civil, Derek was showing him the same respect, being polite and cordial the way he would anyone else, especially a friend of a friend who he was hoping to get to know—and hoping for a lot more than that, if a miracle should happen.

Nothing was said, Stiles just staring, looking him up and down, making Derek feel self-conscious and he hid it with a question.

“Thirsty?”

“God yes,” Stiles breathed out before going wide-eyed in realization because....

Oh. Right. That... that word had a double meaning and...

Really.

Derek's brows raised, his body warming, heating really, cock throbbing and knot pulsing beneath the surface in extreme interest. Because... because it was obvious now that Stiles referring to him as a pretty boy the other day wasn't a slip or Derek misinterpreting. Because Stiles really did see him as that, was attracted to Derek, at least physically. And while ordinarily that would skeeve Derek off and make him wanna run and hide, this time... this time it perked him right the hell up. He could work with this, this gave him a shot, a chance at them being something.

So he let a slow smirk form on his face and shot Stiles a wink. “I know the feeling,” he quipped, delighted in the way patches of red formed on the Omega's face before he snapped his head away.

“Water's fine,” Stiles croaked as he went for the pile of boxes and the list on top, back turned pointedly to Derek.

Shit. He'd fucked up again. He was being a pushy Alpha when he hadn't meant to be, just like before. He'd honestly thought it was just a friendly little flirtation, but he'd obviously forgotten about Stiles' prejudices, how his words could be interpreted differently by someone else. He'd just thrown himself five steps back, made things awkward, and set them up for a long evening.

Withholding a sigh, Derek made his way to the fridge, shoved his head inside to cool off and mouth a few self-aimed swears, then grabbed a couple bottles of water. Part of him was tempted to hit his head on the fridge on the way out, both as punishment and as an excuse for whatever other stupid thing would be coming out his mouth, but managed to resist the urge. Instead, he headed back to the living room area, right as Stiles was practically slapping the papers against his thigh as he spun to face Derek. A hard frown was on his face, lips parted as a sign he was about to speak but hadn't gotten the words together yet, and Derek stopped, wondering if there was something wrong with the print-out.

Maybe they'd forgotten to order something?

No biggie though, right? They could just pick it up when they were out and—

“I have a question,” Stiles stated, almost unnecessarily, and Derek just nodded, gestured at him to speak it. “I saw you yesterday being crowded by all those Omegas in the courtyard.”

Well then...

Derek blinked, trying to get his thoughts straight as they raced and swirled in his head. Part of him was excited that Stiles had noticed him, although he was also kind of bummed that Stiles hadn't called out to him or come over to chat. Then again, they weren't really friends, just awkward acquaintances tasked with a similar job for a mutual friend. Plus the whole being surrounded by...

“They're Omegas?” Derek commented, wondering why he was surprised by that. He was an Alpha, so it stood to reason that he'd be fawned over by Omegas hoping to appeal to him in some baser way. He kinda figured there'd be a few Betas thrown in there though and wasn't sure if he was offended there weren't any or just assume that they were but their scents were swallowed up by the more potent Omegas—at least that's what Derek had been told when it came to scents. And Stiles having presumably been at some distance—had to be, because there was no way Derek would miss that sweet caramel scent—he wouldn't have been able to differentiate the different Dynamics surrounding the Alpha.

Stiles just stared at him, dubious, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open. “You seriously couldn't tell?”

Shit. Another loaded question and Derek swallowed hard as he shuffled over to the coffee table. He put both water bottles down then scrubbed at the back of his neck, head hanging to hide his wince. It wasn't something he wanted to admit, just like the flirty barista the other day, but lying didn't feel like an option now than it had then. So...

“No,” he admitted lowly, clearing his throat. Wrapping his arms around himself in a protective manner, he raised his head to meet Stiles' curious gaze and shrugged. “I, uh. I'm pretty much noseblind when it comes to individual scents and telling one dynamic from another.”

Honey eyes widened at that, Stiles taken aback, and the Omega looked away as he rubbed at his chin, seeming to take it all in. “So the flirty barista, you honestly couldn't smell the way her scent was blasting?”

Derek shook his head. “Nope. And I couldn't smell whose scents I wore when—when we first—when I went after you in the bathroom. I had no idea I reeked so bad. I still can't tell.”

Stiles' confusion only seemed to deepen as he turned back to Derek, arms folded and papers being crushed, forgotten and uncared for. “So then why did you pin me against the wall and practically try to inhale my scent gland?”

Shame had him sinking down onto a nearby armchair, his wince deepening, fingers twisting between his spread knees. No one liked admitting to a weakness and Derek was no different. He also didn't wanna discuss past mistakes and huge regrets and his shitty behavior. But mostly... he didn't wanna scare Stiles off by talking about something like this, which he had a feeling he totally would. This was an Omega who didn't like Alphas at the best of times, who believed that all of them believed they were owed whatever they wanted solely for being Alphas and would just take it without permission—if they even asked for it in the first place. Telling Stiles he was the only one Derek could smell, it was almost like saying Stiles had to be with him, owed him something in some way, that Derek was essentially trying to stake a claim and force Stiles into a relationship based purely on his damn nose being a piece of shit.

Which wasn't what was happening.

Yes, Derek saw it as a sign that they were Fated Mates—or at the very least, the possibility of them being that existed—but he wasn't gonna force his own thoughts onto someone else. If Stiles wanted to draw his own conclusions, he could and should and would. The Alpha wasn't gonna use his power of influence over what was generally perceived as the weaker Dynamic in order to get his way, regardless of Stiles' own opinions over Alphas doing just that.

But Stiles couldn't make up his own mind about things if he didn't have all the info. At that moment, he just had a piece of it, enough to confuse him, and... and Derek needed to clarify all of it, make sure the air was clear between them so that there were no questions or regrets or second guessing whenever decisions were made.

With a deep breath, Derek gripped the back of his neck, meeting Stiles' inquisitive eyes so there was no misunderstanding or mistaking his words for anything but the truth. “You are the first, and so far only, person that I have ever been able to scent. And when I caught hold of it in the hall, I just. I wasn't thinking. I honestly don't remember moving, just remember my brain fuzzing down to nothing but how good it smelled and that I wanted more of it and next thing I know, I've got you pinned to the wall.” He paused, swallowing hard, dropping his hand. “And I'm still so very sorry about that but I swear to you, I wasn't trying to pull any sort of move or force you into anything or assault you in any way. I just. You smelled really good. Which I just realized is total victim blaming and I'm sorry for that, too, there's no excusing what I did. I fucked up, it was fucked up, and I understand if you never wanna see me or talk to me ever again after this whole thing is over.”

Stiles said nothing, just stared, eyes still narrow in inquisition and analysis. Derek felt his skin grow tight as he sat there, waiting, an overwhelming feeling that the rest of his life hinged on what the other man said next. And maybe it did. No, definitely did. It would solidify Stiles' stance on him and his role in Derek's life—if any. It would leave no question if he hated Derek, never wanted to see him again. It would give Derek a chance to at least have Stiles as a friend. It would let him know if there was a possibility of more.

That last one felt like such a long shot he couldn't even see it.

Still. Guy could dream, right?

And dream he fucking did.

Finally, after the longest moment of Derek's life, Stiles took a deep breath and scrubbed at his hair. “Can I think about it? It's a lot to process.”

Derek nodded easily, blowing out a relieved sigh of his own. It wasn't a total write off, wasn't a flat out “get fucked”. He still had time to prove he wasn't like the Alphas Stiles hated, that he was worthy of the Omega's time and attention.

An amused grin formed on Stiles' face, cheeky, eyes dancing with mirth, and Derek got the feeling he wasn't gonna like what was coming next.

“So. Tell me about this gaggle of groupies you seem to have.”

A long suffering groan dragged its way out Derek's throat as he sank in his chair, hands covering his face. He was right. He didn't like it at all.

Derek expected things to be awkward and stiff between him and Stiles after his confession, but... it was hard to explain really. It wasn't entirely easy going but it was definitely lighter than it had been. Stiles seemed to relax more around him, was less judgmental and quick to insult, instead acting more easygoing and joking with Derek. It gave the Alpha a better look at his personality, his sarcasm and quick quips and goofy jokes, the way he talked with his hands as much as he talked with his mouth, his expressive face that pretty much always gave away what he was thinking. It was no wonder the guy was such good friends with Erica—apparently childhood best friends who grew up together along with a Beta named Scott, who was prevalent in a lot of Stiles' stories—since the two of them would be able to riff off one another and easily clown around, both strong Omegas who took no crap from anyone.

And Stiles seeming to be himself allowed Derek to relax and be himself as well, allowed them both to get to know one another beyond the disastrous first impressions they had. Derek learned that he and Stiles had a similar sense of humor, both had sarcastic natures, both enjoyed Star Wars and the Marvel Cinematic Universe. He learned that Stiles was studying criminal justice with the hopes of following in his sheriff father's footsteps and Derek quipped that maybe they'd be working together in the future, given his own goals of becoming a prosecutor. The thought had Derek's own heart pounding in hope and Stiles' cheeks turning that splotchy red that came with his blushing.

But as easy as things seemed to be, the afternoon and evening weren't without tension. There were moments when silence descended and Derek would find Stiles staring at him with those narrowed analytical eyes, scent a convoluted mess as his emotional state was seemingly all over the place. Derek found himself feeling the deep-seeded need to prove himself, to show that he was better than their first meeting, something that was a challenge on multiple levels. Because Stiles' relaxed state meant his scent was flowing freely, warm and lush and thick and Derek had to fight to keep himself still and not bury his nose in his scent gland.

Again.

Getting in Stiles' Jeep was worse, the interior of the clunker absolutely saturated with caramel, and Derek had to roll down the window to get some fresh air. Stiles had given him a strange look at that and Derek's ears burned bright red as he sheepishly admitted it smelled too good, too strongly of Stiles and that he was worried he'd do something he wouldn't mean to. Stiles had flushed at that yet sent him a grateful smile, driving them around town as they picked up what they still needed.

The twosome headed to a late dinner together, where the relaxed but awkward atmosphere continued. It felt too much like a date and Derek couldn't help but wonder what others thought when they saw the two of them together, an Alpha and Omega eating alone. He wondered if Stiles' scent had permeated him over the course of the afternoon and during a bathroom break, sniffed at his shirt....

Oh fuck.

It totally had.

Their night ended with the two of them packing everything in Stiles' Jeep, agreeing it would be easier to take the car with the bigger cargo space with everything they needed to transport. Plan for the next day were gone over one last time, finalized, pick-up times and errands they still had to run and decorating schedules.

Then the awkwardness returned.

Because... because Derek stupidly felt like he should kiss the guy goodnight, even though it hadn't been a date, regardless of how he'd felt during dinner, regardless of what impression they most likely gave others on the outside. No, things weren't like that between them, despite a definite crush that Derek was absolutely sure he had at that point. Because Stiles wasn't just attractive, didn't just smell tooth-achingly good, but was also smart and funny and energetic and easy to talk to and his personality meshed well with Derek's.

But a crush didn't give him permission to kiss anyone goodnight so he stood awkwardly by the Jeep, reluctant to go, knowing he needed to. He had schoolwork to get done before he had to head to bed early, knowing he was in for a long and busy weekend.

Stiles wasn't saying goodnight either though. He wasn't climbing into the Jeep in a hint, wasn't checking his phone, wasn't not-so-subtly trying to steer Derek into his apartment. No, he was standing just as awkwardly, just as unsure.

Derek wasn't sure if it was another test or just the two of them being stuck in a weird limbo state where they weren't really sure what they were to one another beyond their mutual relationship to Erica and Boyd. So they just...

They were there.

He was the first one to say goodnight, Derek stiffly giving a weird bow with his head and telling Stiles to drive safe, that he'd see him tomorrow morning. And Stiles nodded, strange smile on his face, scent swirling with a myriad of emotions once more as he told Derek to sleep well. Then Derek was backing away to his apartment building and Stiles was climbing into his Jeep and...

And Derek knew then and there that the upcoming weekend would be life-changing for not just his two best friends, but also himself.

Stiles picked Derek up at eight on the dot, just as scheduled. The Alpha put his duffel in the backseat, alongside Stiles', before they set off up the mountain. Conversation easily flowed, talk of what they still had to do, sports and a mutual love of baseball, arguments over the music, how they'd both gotten frantic texts from Erica during the night as she double-checked everything and how they'd both been surprised it'd taken her this long to go into panic mode. Stiles commented that he was glad they were basically rushing this elopement so that her freak-out messages weren't being sent over a long period of time, just the single night, and Derek shuddered to think about how nightmarish it would be if Erica had a lengthy Mating ceremony planning time.

It would be his sister all over again.

The place Boyd and Erica had chosen for their ceremony was part resort, part campground. There were lots where one could set up their own tents or Rvs, as well as scattered cabins available for rent, along with a large main cabin featuring a lounge, restaurant, private dining halls, event rooms, a bar, and various activities. The property was large, spread out, surrounding a sizable lake for boating, canoeing, fishing, swimming, and other water sports.

Not that any of their group were interested in that aspect, at least not over the next couple days. No, they had other things to take care of. Should Boyd and Erica choose to partake after the ceremony was over, that was up to them. From what Derek had been told by Boyd, they were staying an extra week to celebrate. Derek honestly wondered if they'd leave their cabin during that time.

The Mates-to-be had rented two cabins relatively close together, both somewhat small in size, but considering they'd each house only two people and for a short period of time, they didn't need anything all that big. The door opened up into the main section of the cabin, kitchen area on the left, dining table in the middle, living area to the wider right. Across the way were two doors, the left to the bathroom, the right for the bedroom, which featured a single bed.

It felt like a cliché.

Derek nipped it in the bud by offering to sleep on the fold-out couch and Stiles didn't add to the overdone trope by insisting they were both adults and could share a queen sized bed without anything happening. The Alpha wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

Not that he had time to worry about any of that. After dropping their bags off, they were recruited to help set up the ceremony area, a rented lot in the woods that ordinarily would be for tents and camping. Derek thought it was a perfect choice, the location a bit of a walk up a sloping pathway, but worth it for the view it gave of the lake below. The clearing for the tent was surrounded by still blooming trees with just enough sun shining through to make it bright and airy. The ground was perfectly flat and well tended and given the dry weather they'd been having, it was neat and wouldn't mess any clothes or shoes up.

Derek and Boyd set up the chuppah while Stiles and Erica headed to the nearby town to pick up pre-ordered flowers, the ceremonial square canopy made of rustic wood, tied with leather straps. White chiffon table runners were draped along the horizontal pieces, falling down along the seven foot tall vertical columns, flowing in the breeze. When the flowers arrived—a blend of whites and blush pinks in roses, daisies, and dahlias—Stiles and Erica worked to create draperies of them, flowing from the corners. A sheet was placed underneath it all, pinned into place, matching gossamer one covering the top. For something thrown together, it was utterly beautiful, and Derek had half a mind to call Laura and tell her she was a fucking drama queen when all of this was coming together so easily in such a rush.

There was plenty time for Stiles and Derek to decorate the event room they'd personally rented in the main lodge for the reception. Tulle tableskirts were pinned into place, over the edges of white cloths that just covered the table tops. One table was set aside for the cake, the Mr & Mrs freestanding letters placed before the cake pedestal they'd purchased, spare roses scattered around the base of it. They draped gossamer drapes around the room to brighten and lighten the dark wood of the cabin's walls, as well as sheets of hanging fairy lights, given the place a dreamy look. Derek handled most of the physical work as Stiles told him where to go, how things should hang, the visionary of it all. The Omega also handled dealing with the kitchen staff, double-checking the cake itself as well as the meal they'd be having, not to mention a request for the fairy lights to be turned on and the main lights off before they all came in.

They finished right at dinner time and joined Boyd and Erica in the restaurant for the meal. The stress Erica had exhibited during her texts the previous night and earlier that day as they set everything up was gone, thanks both to the relief that things were ready to go and the swigs of Boyd's beer that she swiped. The chill atmosphere continued as they headed back to the cabins, to the firepit behind Boyd and Erica's, where they sat and talked and roasted marshmallows to make s'mores for dessert.

It was after ten when they parted ways, the Mates-to-be forgoing tradition and sharing a cabin the night before their ceremony, Stiles and Derek off to their own rented place.

Where the awkwardness returned.

For some weird reason.

Which... when was awkwardness not weird really? But at least this time Derek could rest assured it wasn't anything he'd done, wasn't any strange atmosphere he'd created. Stiles was the one who paused in the middle of the cabin's main room, glancing around with his lips twisted and fingers tangling and brows drawn. It was obvious he had something on his mind that he wanted to say, but couldn't figure out how to say it, and Derek was more than willing to give him the space to say it.

So the Alpha left him be, putting his duffel on the couch and unzipping so he could grab the pajama bottoms he'd packed. Probably should also grab his toiletries bag, too, he thought. Stiles didn't seem like he was gonna be moving any time soon, so Derek would have to change in the bathroom, and if he was changing in the bathroom then he might as well—

“I talked to Erica,” Stiles began, so suddenly out of nowhere that Derek actually jolted a bit, head snapping to the other man. The Omega was staring at the bedroom door, roughing at his hair before he turned to face Derek, swallowing hard. “About your, uh. Your nose? Hope you don't mind.”

Okay, unexpected. Part of Derek kind of wished he'd known about that conversation before it happened so he could say if he was okay with it or not. But since it was Erica and she was well aware of his nasal deficiency—so to speak—Derek figured there was no harm done and no point in being upset about it.

So he shrugged and shook his head. “S'fine. She's known for a while now.”

“Yeah, that's what she said,” Stiles replied, sheepish smile on his face before he ducked his head, kicking his sneaker against the wood floor. “She, uh. Yeah, she said that you really are noseblind and that's part of why you don't go after Omegas the way most Alphas do. The other part is 'cause you're not a douche.” Lifting his head, Stiles gave Derek a smirk that was meant to be amused but didn't quite achieve it. There was something in his eyes, a hidden tension, as whatever he wasn't saying dragged his mood down.

Dropping his pants on top of his duffel, Derek turned bodily to the other man, confused frown on his face before he hooked his thumbs on the pockets of his jeans. “I like to think I'm not. I try not to be. Dynamics shouldn't mean anyone can do whatever they want or that someone should expect to be victimized and accept that they're somehow lesser when they aren't.”

Pressing his lips together, Stiles nodded, his own hands shoved in the pockets of khaki cargo shorts that were frayed at the hems due to being worn often than anything factory created. “Agreed. And it's a total relief that you think that way, 'cause, like.” He paused, took a deep breath that was released as a shaky sigh, before finally meeting Derek's eye. “I had a thing for you before I met you to be honest. Like, Erica showed me pictures of you and I admittedly stalked your Facebook and thought you were hot and your scent would be on her clothes sometimes after her tutoring sessions, ya know? And I just, whatever, I had a crush or some shit, but then that shit happened in the bathroom—” His tumbling ramble trailed off and Derek...

Derek had no idea how the fuck to react. Because Stiles had a crush on him and holy shit Stiles had a crush on him, but then the reference to the Biggest Regret of Derek's Life was bringing back the lead ball of guilt in his stomach...

But... Stiles had a crush on him. Or had at one point. Derek probably blasted that to smithereens with such a failure of a first impression.

Or second impression.

First in real life, in person impression.

Whatever.

“Yeah, so I thought you were a douche like every other Alpha out there,” Stiles went on, hands gesticulating wildly, Derek feeling his heart pound and lurch as he struggled to figure out where this was going. “And I ranted about to my friend Lydia, who told me to just forget about you because yeah, you're a dick. But then you had no reaction to that barista or your fanclub, except for, like, annoyance, which yeah, totally, I get it. And then you told me about your noseblindness and Erica confirmed it and.” Another paused and Derek stopped breathing.

God, it was like when his family took that vacation to Hawaii and they went cliff-jumping. He remembered standing at the edge, his entire body thrumming with anticipation and nerves, toes curling over the rough rock like it could keep him grounded and not let him plummet. It was terrifying, the idea of just free-falling down like that to the water below, where anything could go wrong. He could hit the water wrong, he could smash his head on the rock, he could...he could be perfectly fine and experience the adrenaline rush everyone said he would. And with his sister goading him from the water below, Derek stepped off...

This moment was a lot lie that. The wait, the anticipation, the way his skin tingled and prickled in a way he couldn't tell was pleasant or not as his stomach rolled and battled against his racing heart, scared and excited and nervous and hopeful and a million other things. Just waiting...

“So, uh, to answer your question from yesterday,” Stiles began, taking another deep breath, glancing around the cabin, finally meeting Derek's eyes again. “Think maybe we can give it a shot at maybe being more than friends? Because everything you said about my scent, it's pretty much the same way I feel about yours.”

What.

“Like, when you pinned me against the bathroom wall? I, uh, I still have the clothes I wore because they still smell like you. And I swear to god I actually had to talk myself out of humping my fucking car seat last night just because you sat in it and it is totally saturated with espresso. You probably don't realize it, but fuckin' hell, your scent is so fucking good and so fucking strong and I wanna do nothing but breathe it in the rest of my li—”

Derek was pretty sure he knew where Stiles was going with that thought. It was obvious, not to mention a perfect echo of his own feelings.

Didn't mean he was gonna give the guy the chance to finish it.

Striding over, Derek reached out for Stiles, fully intent on ending his rambles with his own mouth, only...

Wasn't that what caused their original issues? Wasn't that why Stiles had been disappointed in him and regretful of his crush? Wasn't that why Derek had to confess to a weakness, one that Stiles confirmed with their mutual friend?

It was like every lecture on consent left him and he felt sick with guilt once more.

So he stopped short of the younger man, held his hands aside, and watched as Stiles inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as the words died on his lips.

“Can I kiss yo—?”

Derek may have wanted to cut Stiles' sentence off with a kiss, but Stiles was the one who actually managed to do so, grabbing hold of Derek's tee and hauling him in. Their lips met in a cliché clash, the pain ignored in favor of moving together, in favor of taking hold of slim hips and pressing their bodies together. Stiles' scent blossomed, engulfing Derek in warm caramel sugar, and the Alpha didn't bother holding back the rumble that emanated from his chest. He swallowed the moan Stiles let out in response, wondering if his own scent was bursting just as much, figuring it was by the way Stiles was wrapping his arms around him and desperately gripping at his back as he tried to press in even closer.

Shit, it almost felt like too much, the way they fit perfectly together, Stiles only a couple inches shorter and aligning with Derek's broader frame like it was meant to. Their lips moved like they'd been practicing with each other for years, his tongue delving inside Stiles' mouth to thoroughly map out every crevice, paying special attention to every weak spot. Scents swirled and grew stronger, blending and combining into something more, Stiles' all the more intoxicating for that extra sweet burst of arousal. Derek could feel the Omega harden against his thigh, his hips rolling, and his own cock, which was practically always half-mast when Stiles was around, swelled so hard so fast that it almost hurt, almost knocked him on his ass.

Through some miracle, they managed to make their way to the couch, shoes being kicked off as they went. Derek shoved his bag onto the floor, contents spilling out and immediately forgotten about, but rather than spreading Stiles out on the sofa as he'd planned, he was pushed down onto it, falling onto his ass in a sitting position with an “oomf!” He had half a second to be stunned before the Omega was climbing onto his lap, reconnecting their lips in a hungry kiss and tugging at the bottom of Derek's shirt in an obvious ploy to try and take it off.

Not something Derek objected to in the slightest.

As long as Stiles returned the favor.

Shirts were quickly divested, hands roaming, long lithe fingers leaving trails of fire on his bare skin as Stiles felt whatever he wanted to. Derek seized the opportunity to bury his nose in Stiles' neck, against his scent gland, inhaling deeply. That caramel sweetness flooded his entire being, making his head spin and body melt as it simultaneously grew taut. He didn't bother holding back the growl, the way his hips rocked, the urge to lick and nip and suck at the gland in order to try and pull more of that delicious aroma from the Omega on his lap.

And Stiles didn't have any objections either, his own hips rocking, his breathing heavy as he ground his own hard length against Derek's. Really, the only problem with all of this was how annoyingly clothed they still were, the Alpha reaching down to easily undo Stiles' khaki shorts, the Omega setting to work on Derek's jeans.

“Make me come,” Stiles demanded breathlessly, scratching at Derek's shoulders, his biceps, mouthing at his ear. And fuck, Derek would do anything this man told him to if he said it like that, his hands immediately slipping into the back of Stiles' shorts, the back of his boxers, gripping at his cheeks and squeezing. A whimper sounded in his ear as Stiles arched his back in clear invitation, and Derek let his fingers slip into his crevice...

Soaked. So fucking wet, slick coating him, soaking into Derek's fingers. The realization had Derek groaning, cock pulsing and knot throbbing, and goddamn did he needed to be buried in there an hour ago.

First things first though and it was almost nothing for him to slip a finger inside Stiles, his rim already loose and welcoming and greedily sucking him in. Shit, it had never felt like this before, never been so wet and hot and needy and Stiles was mouthing at his scent gland, making Derek practically purr, his head falling back on the couch and eyes drifting closed.

“Need to fuck you,” he admitted, hating the crude term but... but honestly at that point, it was all he was capable of. He wanted—needed to mount and claim and fuck and breed and the way Stiles shuddered against him, clenched around his finger, it told Derek he needed the same thing.

“I'm on top,” Stiles replied and Derek nodded vehemently, knowing he'd agree to anything.

Goal in mind, Derek set to opening Stiles up, their lips crashing together once more, breaking to pant in one another's mouths. The Alpha ate up every groan and whine and plea coming from the Omega's mouth, feeling his inner-walls ripple and convulse around his fingers, feeling impatient to bury his cock in this same velvety passage. But he couldn't, not yet. This was about Stiles, making sure he was ready, making sure he felt even better than Derek.

But Stiles was just as impatient, slapping at Derek's forearm and insisting he was ready. Derek slipped his fingers out, brought them to his mouth to clean them off, to taste the syrupy sweetness of this Omega he was falling for. And godfuckingdamn if he didn't fucking taste just as good as he smelled, that warm caramel sparking on his tongue, coating his throat, and his cock jerked so hard in his pants he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't just come.

A swear came from Stiles under his breath before he stood up, quickly ridding himself of his shorts and boxers. Derek took the opportunity to slide off his own jeans and briefs, hard length bobbing in the air. Even the chill of the AC wasn't enough to affect him, too needy, too demanding as Stiles resumed his previous position, wrapped his fingers around him....

Fuck, he had to grit his jaw and claw at the couch cushion to not come just from that, like a pathetic Alpha barely discovering what a knot was, being touched for the first time...and now Madonna was playing in his head. Okay, that was fine, definitely helped take the edge off and helped....

Nothing. It helped fucking nothing because now Stiles was lowering his hips and the tip of Derek's cock was pressing against his winking rim, slick dripping down onto him and mixing with the precome steadily leaking from his slit. A groan dragged its way out and Derek's eyes closed at the intensity, only for him to force them back open. No way was he missing the look on Stiles' face when he was breached, when they were finally joined.

And thank god Derek had watched because it was the greatest thing he'd ever witnessed. Stiles eyes went wide before rolling into the back of his head, mouth hanging loose and open, skin flushed red from his cheeks to his chest. That caramel scent burst even more, tiny whines knocked out from him with every huffy exhale for every slow inch he took inside. His hands were clawing at Derek's shoulders to brace himself, thighs practically shaking, and Derek held onto his hips to help steady him.

And to steady himself really.

Fuck, so tight and wet and good and amazing and he wasn't gonna last and fuck, how many homers did Pete Alonso have at that point, what was the next line of that Like A Virgin song, when was that paper due for his...

“Goddamn, you're fucking huge,” Stiles groaned, finally bottoming out, squeezing around the length of Derek and Derek's hands shot to the couch once more, squeezing hard as he fought not to come.

“Shit, don't do that, I'm not gonna last,” Derek admitted, feeling pathetic. But it was the truth. Already his knot was throbbing below the surface, fattening up, and his balls felt so heavy with the need to fill this Omega up and....

And Stiles wasn't fucking helping with the way he rippled around him, the way he slowly rocked his hips in a dirty grind, and now Derek was squeezing his hips again in a warning.

“Give it to me,” Stiles argued, meeting Derek's eyes with intense glowing gold ones, hard and brokering no argument. “I want it. Give it to me, fill me up, fuck me hard. Alpha.”

This. Little. Bastard.

Derek snarled as he shot up, sinking his teeth into Stiles' neck with the intent of bruising, putting this feisty Omega in his place and showing everyone who would ever lay eyes on him that he was taken. His scent grew stronger, more intense, to the point where even he could smell it, swirling and mixing with the intoxicating aroma of Stiles, perfectly blended for their own unique scent. Derek's hips bucked up and down, thrusting hard into the lithe Omega perched on his lap, as Stiles perfectly rode him, rocking and bouncing, skin slapping together as they met. The air was filled with the sounds of the slick gushing and harsh breathing and loud groans and breathless swears and...

And Derek kept his eyes locked onto Stiles', onto that golden glow of an Omega approving and claiming in its own way. He watched the play of emotions on the younger man's expressive face, the arch of his brows and the twist of his lips and the pull of his lids. He could barely feel the way nails dug into his skin, hoping he was bruised and scratched up and marked in the same way he'd done to Stiles.

Shit, the thought had his knot fattening up even faster and Stiles grinned almost maniacally as he moved with more purpose, as he sank down harder to take it inside, bearing down perfectly to fit the fat gland past his rim. Then it was too big to take out and Stiles was rocking, grinding, working it against his prostate in a way that had his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to hide the whines.

Which was a damn shame because Derek wanted to hear every fucking thing, reaching up with his thumb to free the poor lip, his own hips moving in circles to maximize the pleasure for them both, but mainly for Stiles.

“I'm gonna,” Stiles breathed out and Derek wrapped his hand around the Omega's cock, the small length disappearing within his fist as he rapidly stripped it.

“Come on, baby. Paint me with it. Mark me, wanna wear your scent all day every day,” he rumbled, words not feeling like anything he was capable of, voice deeper and more ragged than he'd ever been. Made sense though. Stiles made him feel completely different than he ever had and jesus fuck had he seriously considered never having this, or at least delaying it. It felt like a lifetime ago that he'd thought he didn't have time for dating or relationships or anything of the like, yet there he was, thinking exactly the opposite.

It wasn't that he didn't have time, because he knew he could rework and reschedule and make time for this. It was more that he didn't think anyone he'd ever met was worth shifting his world around for.

Now...

Now it felt like Stiles was his world and he was in too deep too soon but fuck, there was no way he could give a shit right then, not with Stiles' walls spasming around him, his body drawing up tight, squeezing and scratching and panting and shaking and....

And then ropes of come were hitting Derek's torso, making the Alpha groan with the knowledge that he was claimed, marked, that Stiles' scent was on him in the best possible way. And Stiles kept rocking, kept squeezing, even as he was clearly coming down. He took hold of Derek's head in his hands, brought it to his neck, then rubbed his wrists against one of the Alpha's scent glands.

“Come in me,” he requested, and Derek did as he was told, just like he always did with Stiles.

The weather was a cool seventy-five degrees in the shade, barely twenty percent humidity. Birds were singing, squirrels were chittering, and somewhere in the distance, laughter and cheers were drifting up from the lake below.

Derek stood outside the chuppah, on the left side, where Boyd had entered, dressed in light colored slacks and a white buttondown. Across the way, Stiles was similarly dressed, both their hands clasped before them as they watched their two friends exchange handwritten vows before a justice of the peace who happened to work at the resort. Erica was dressed in a lacy dress, hair down in waves, crown of baby's breath and daisies acting as a tiara. But as she stared up at Boyd with stars in her eyes, Derek knew that she didn't need a crown of gold to feel like a princess; her new Mate did just that.

Peering around them, Derek caught the eye of his new partner, his Omega. On his neck was evidence of their previous night—just like on Derek's—hickeys and bite marks and the espresso scent Derek apparently put out. And Derek was absolutely saturated with caramel, even after showering that morning, something that both thrilled and settled him. His nose may not have worked on others, but it perfectly worked on Stiles Stilinski and at that moment, that was all that mattered to Derek.