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Stiles was so tired even his bones were protesting movement. They’d spent an exhausting ten weeks working their way through the rest of northern California and Oregon, meeting with other packs and negotiating peaceful alliances.
It wasn’t easy to convince people this was a good idea. Derek was a born beta, without any Alpha training and referencing Peter as a mentor didn’t help because Peter was never meant to be an Alpha either. That extra power had been a big reason why Peter went crazy. Well and the fire but at least most packs were smart enough not to bring that up. The second week out had resulted in one smart-mouthed teen pup making a comment about it but after Peter ripped his arm off in a bite, they’d had no more problems. That treaty had turned into a bitch, though.
Packs also struggled with Stiles. Once they’d sent Peter home, Boyd had been sent in to replace him as it was customary to deliberate with at least three representatives from each pack. Boyd’s size and stoic demeanor was imposing and appropriate. But Stiles threw packs for a loop.
There were rules to how a human worked in a pack. A human could be born in and this was most common. From time to time a human was taken as a mate but they were to be subservient and stay out of most pack affairs. While traditional and bloodthirsty packs kept humans around as omegas, used as nothing more than the equivalent of a sexual chew toy.
Stiles could still remember the first time Derek tried to keep him out of a meeting with one such traditional pack, understandably not wanting Stiles to be uncomfortable. The pack had specifically brought their omega with them as a way to try and deride Stiles’ position within his own pack. Stiles knew how a human became an omega though. They couldn’t be a human born into a pack.
Those humans were given the bite once they were of age. To be an omega meant choosing to take that position out of a desperate and pathetically needy (in his opinion) attempt to be part of the pack.
The omega mocked Stiles once and Stiles backhanded him out of the chair. ‘Watch your mouth,’ he’d growled and his next words were directed at the omega but a warning to the pack. ‘I have turned down more offers from Alphas than you know. I am a human pack member but I am no omega. An ounce of the respect my pack gives me is more than the entire amount of self-respect you threw away the first time you sucked an Alpha’s dick and begged to be a whore. You will keep your mouth shut in my presence or I will sew it shut for you.’
The beta that accompanied the omega and Alpha of the pack had made one final comment to Derek. ‘You’re going to let the human member of your pack speak for the Alpha and his second?’
Derek had snarled but Stiles took that question too. ‘I am his second,’ he’d answered, and his eyes flashed dangerously with a warning.
There’d been no more blatant disrespect.
It didn’t mean the challenges stopped. On one level, this was to be expected. Just as Derek’s lack of Alpha training was a deterrent to acceptance from other packs, so was the makeup of their pack itself. A werewolf raised from the dead, barely of legal drinking age pack members, an unclaimed mate, a hunter, a witch-in-training and non-omega humans. There was nothing about their pack that fit the rules and as a result they were often misjudged.
Derek kind of hated how much Stiles liked it when packs misjudged them. It hit the worst point in Portland. Boyd had needed to return to Erica, as claimed mates couldn’t spend too long apart without it weakening the other. Isaac came instead, not Derek’s first choice but acceptable.
The Portland pack didn’t keep human omegas but they were a strong and old pack, with a reputation as fierce fighters. When eight wolves, not including the pack’s Alpha showed up to the meeting, Derek knew this was going to be a more serious challenge to his leadership and the strength of his pack.
He’d negotiated terms first. It was an unnecessary and showy display of power to have pack members fight in his opinion but in return for requesting a meeting, Derek had to agree to meet on the other pack’s terms. The Portland pack’s second initially demanded a fight to the death.
Derek had stayed oh so calm as he noted that even while he had every confidence in his pack, he didn’t think this pack would want to deal with the repercussions of killing an Alpha’s mate.
There’d been some shock, again, Stiles wasn’t claimed (his choice) so he didn’t carry the traditional smell of mate. But the Portland Alpha agreed. The fight would be to the point of unconscious.
Stiles had grinned and winked at the pack’s lead beta. He could practically smell their assumptions. Isaac with his curly hair and gentle smile and tendency to curl in on himself while others talked gave the impression that he was soft, the healer of the pack and unused to fighting. They never seemed to see that under the kind demeanor lurked a sadistic killer.
Derek had stepped back to allow his two pack members to fight. Alphas were not allowed to join in the fight, not in cases like this. The Portland pack let five of their wolves step forward. Derek wanted to protest, tradition stated an even matchup but at the same time, he knew the Portland pack would need at least six more wolves to make this even.
Most packs fought for the kill or at most to protect their pack and they almost exclusively dealt with rival packs. The Hale pack fought for their families, for the town they loved, and they’d faced far worse than a mere rival wolf pack.
Isaac straightened to his full height, towering over all but one of the other pack’s wolves. He cracked his knuckles and tilted his head slightly, the gleam of death rising in his eyes. Two of the other wolves took a hesitant step back before recovering. Isaac’s lips quirked up in anticipation. ‘Stiles,’ he’d growled in a voice low and husky, as though he was seconds from an orgasm, ‘they smell like fear’.
Stiles for his turn, placed leather gloves on his hands, and slid his bat out of its sheath in his boot. The bat was special, developed with Lydia over several months. It was a little thinner than a traditional bat, looking more like a pipe.
Oak wood, known for its centering properties, was woven together with holly, to insure that Stiles didn’t lose focus, was protected, and stronger. They’d plated the wood with iron, keeping it light and maneuverable so Stiles could still lift it if injured. Finally Lydia had experimented until she’d created a wolfsbane potion that was four times as strong as normal wolfsbane. They bonded it to the bat and the first chance Stiles got to test it had proven that it left wickedly deep burns in the flesh of a werewolf that couldn’t heal without treatment.
After their first bout with a demon, Lydia had embedded salt in the iron with a spell, thus insuring that Stiles could face down everything.
So when he stood in front of packs that saw him as a weak human, Stiles just twirled his bat and sneered.
The Portland wolves had attacked, one at Stiles, three at Isaac and one watching to see if the human got off a lucky blow.
Stiles didn’t believe in luck. He believed in his training, in his skill, and in his pack. So he’d slammed the bat into the approaching wolf’s stomach, ducked a swiping paw, then cracked it across the wolf’s kneecap, rolling the bat along the skin for a second to insure the broken bones couldn’t heal right away. One more blow to the head and the wolf was down for the count.
He’d snarled, turning towards the wolves attacking Isaac.
Isaac had turned and growled at Stiles and Stiles turned away. It wasn’t often that Isaac was allowed to let loose.
Stiles turned back as the final werewolf got close enough to get claws in his thigh, ripping his jeans and causing blood to flow. The human responded with two swings to the head, and as the werewolf swayed towards blacking out, Stiles kicked with his injured leg, sending the wolf to the floor.
Then he’d leaned against the wall to watch Isaac fight.
Isaac was poetry in motion, biting into flesh, spitting out bone after every bite. It ended when the last werewolf had fucking whimpered and crawled away on his back from Isaac.
That was when Derek stepped forward and put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, telling him to come back now and Derek was never referring to a physical return.
It always took a few minutes and Stiles loved to watch the moment when he could see Isaac’s wolf fight to the surface and lock the darkness away again. That was the part that always fooled people. They thought it was Isaac’s humanity that kept him sane, but Stiles knew it was the wolf. The bloodthirsty psycho inside of Isaac was nothing but human.
After that, the negotiations were easy. They’d dealt with three more weeks of pack visits after the Portland round but all were peaceful.
Still, as Stiles made his way towards the bed of their hotel in Seattle, the night before their final pack visit, he couldn’t help but wish they were done.
Derek sat up when Stiles stayed at the edge of the bed, his’s muscles tense and coiled. Derek leaned over and started slowly massaging the stress out of Stiles.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” answered Stiles, leaning into the touch just a bit. The two of them still had every bit as much raw passion as they had when first dating but there was a peaceful comfort between them now too. Moments like this allowed Stiles & Derek to just be, regardless of the rest of the world. “Just tired.”
Derek’s hands moved to stroke along Stiles’ arms in comfort, before returning to working on the knots in his back. “I didn’t realize when we started out how much it would take to settle treaties.”
“That really isn’t the problem though,” explained Stiles and Derek waited while Stiles tried to figure out the words.
“We don’t make sense,” he finally continued. “Our pack came together through circumstance and fights. Half of the pack shouldn’t be there and the other half started out not wanting it. You and I can feel each other stronger than any other mated couple we’ve ever met and yet we’re not claimed. We have an alliance with one of the most powerful hunting families in the world.”
Stiles shifted to face Derek, pulling himself fully onto the bed. “But at the end of the day, the things I miss are fighting over pizza toppings and movie nights and wondering if Peter and Chris will ever stop dancing around each other.”
“They’re worse than us,” agreed Derek. “I get what you mean though. Just because we don’t make sense, doesn’t mean we don’t work.”
“Exactly. I’ll just be happy when all this is done and we can go back home. Baby Laura’s probably going to be walking at this point and you know Allison’s putting a bow in her hands the minute that happens.”
Derek lay back down on the bed and pulled Stiles down with him, kissing his shoulder. “At least tomorrow’s the last meeting. The Seattle pack has treaties with all of Washington so if we get them, we get everyone else.”
Stiles leaned in and kissed Derek before tucking himself against Derek’s side. “Then home,” he whispered and it was more of a promise than a question.
It seemed like only minutes had passed before Stiles was groaning at the intruding sunlight. “Morning gorgeous,” said Derek, handing Stiles a cup of coffee.
Stiles’ one requirement of the hotels they were staying at was good coffee. He suspected Derek had actually just been going to Starbucks and pouring the coffee into a hotel mug though.
“Thank you,” he answered as he took the coffee and tilted his head up for a kiss. It was his favorite part of the morning. Even the days when they had really hot morning sex, it never surpassed their morning routine.
As Derek sat down to him, Stiles continued with his part of their ritual. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“You fill my life with laughter,” is Derek’s response and it makes Stiles smile as Derek’s lips meet his again.
They’ve been a long time coming to this point. Derek still isn’t all that talkative with others but he opens up when Stiles’ around. Stiles is still a ball of energy, tightly coiled but he knows how to relax in Derek’s presence, how to simply enjoy the other.
And if they like to quote lyrics to Rod Stewart songs in bed, well that’s just between the two of them.
“Do we have time for an actual sit-down breakfast?” asked Stiles. He was craving more than pastries and cardboard sausages from their continental breakfasts.
Derek got up and started getting dressed, tossing Stiles his jeans from their suitcase. “Sort of. We have the time but I wanted you to go to a place down at Pike’s Market with me and they don’t have tables.”
“That’s right on the wharf?”
“Yeah.”
“So we can just stare out at the ocean. We haven’t done that since that first week when we met with the Newport pack.”
“You don’t mind?” asked Derek.
Stiles pulled his sweater over his head. Seattle was freaking cold in October. Not to mention it was living up to its rainy reputation. It took a day to realize only tourists carried umbrellas and since they were on orders to keep a low profile, Stiles had taken to layering. He shook his head once it was free. “It’s not raining yet. And you know I like watching the water. What are we eating?”
Derek wouldn’t tell him until they got there and Stiles was a little confused why.
“Pierogies?” he questioned, not sure what they were, let alone why Derek was so excited about them. Though they smelled heavenly.
“When I was little, my mom used to take each of us kids on a trip once a year, just the two of us. We always came up to Seattle and we’d get pierogies and then walk through the market while we ate,” shared Derek.
Stiles felt his insides warm the way they always did when Derek told him a memory. “Do you want to walk too?” He didn’t want Derek to give up part of this experience to sit on the docks.
Derek shook his head. “I think the pierogies are the most I can handle.”
And Stiles got that. He chose a sausage, onion, and potato pierogi as well as a cranberry white chocolate one. Then Derek added about a dozen more to the order, promising that Stiles would like them and that he had to try more than one.
They sat quietly as they ate, Derek’s arm around Stiles’ shoulders and Stiles leaning against his side. It really was one of the best things Stiles had ever eaten.
The time passed far quicker than either of them wanted and then Isaac was calling and joining them to meet the Seattle pack.
Derek’s nerves were setting in as they approached the pre-arranged meeting spot. The Seattle pack was powerful. It wasn’t so much a need for peace with them, as they’d long established they weren’t interested in venturing south of the state.
No, what Derek needed was validation. Recognition by this particular pack would solidify the Hale pack as worthy of respect and protect them from most potential invading packs. Only desperate ones would take the chance.
The safety of his young pack members depended a great deal on their acceptance. Derek had been trying to be confident for Stiles’ and Isaac’s sake but he also knew that in the last ten years, Elizabeth, the Alpha, had only agreed to a treaty with one other pack.
The thought running through his mind was that the odds were not being ever in his favor and that just annoyed him remembering that Allison had made the pack watch the movie four nights in a row.
Sometimes though, Derek just needed to remember that Stiles never went with the odds.
“Derek,” greeted Elizabeth as they arrived. “How lovely to see you after all these years. Even if this visit is a product of a misfortunate past.”
Isaac remained silent while Stiles took a step closer to Derek once Derek beckoned him.
Elizabeth took a long, hard look at Stiles before speaking. “Do you know what they say about you?” she finally asked.
Stiles sighed. “Boy in wolf’s clothing? Weak because I’m human, an omega, an insult to werewolves for refusing to be claimed? I will attempt to be minimally disrespectful, Alpha Perkins, but I’ve found that a lot is said about me and little of it is true and none of it is flattering. The only title I remotely liked was the boy who ran with wolves but it’s usually said with the clear implication that I’m nothing but an Omega. So I’m really not interested in what they say about me.”
Derek squeezed his hand and Isaac pressed against his back. If pushed, Stiles would stop being so respectful.
Elizabeth continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “That was before Portland. To be precise, it has only been ignorant wolves who say those things. I keep an ear to the ground about supernatural happenings that pertain to more than just werewolves.”
“And what do they say now? I’m sure there’s some fae out there who would love to insult me.”
She gave him an inscrutable look and Stiles never blinked.
“They call you the Boy who Fought with Wolves,” she answered. “Those who are not wolves say you are one of the fiercest warriors they’ve ever met, a man who is deadly not because he fights for glory, but because you fight for love. You’ve been gaining quite the reputation, Mr. Stilinski.”
Stiles bowed his head slightly to show he accepted the compliment. “Thank you. It’s nice to hear the supernatural world is learning its lesson.”
Elizabeth stared at him again before waving a hand in the air. A man about his father’s age, but with silvery hair came to stand next to her.
Stiles noted that this would be her mate from the way he did not act subservient and both he and Derek were shocked. Rumors stated firmly that Alpha Elizabeth’s mate did not meet with other packs under any circumstances.
“This is my husband and mate, James,” said Elizabeth.
“Pleasure,” said James.
Stiles could tell he was as surprised as Derek because James wasn’t just a mate. He was human. An unclaimed human at that judging by the way Derek had sniffed the air. And Stiles noted that James, like himself, dressed in a way that showed he carried more than a few weapons on his person.
“James was hoping he and Stiles could visit with each other while Derek and I sign paperwork,” said Elizabeth.
“Sure,” agreed Stiles.
“You’re agreeing to the treaty?” asked Derek. He hadn’t even had to plead his case.
Elizabeth smiled. “I’ve lived a long time Derek. And in that time, I have only known one Alpha who respected their mate enough to leave them human and whose mate in return would lay down their life for the pack.”
Stiles understood. “You and James.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “To know that your mate is also your second, and to hear the tales of his devotion…I can think of no pack I would rather be bound to.”
They walked away as Stiles followed James to a table on the other side of the room.
‘The Boy who Fought with Wolves’ mused Stiles. Yes, he could definitely be okay with such a moniker.