Teen Wolf 1. I

**I**

Stiles was bored. His mind was buzzing approximately a thousand things, research for the pack, the artifact he found from the last fight with pixies, and Derek's ever present misplaced anger at him for "constantly throwing himself in the middle of trouble when he didn't have werewolf healing."

Well, fuck your werewolf healing. Stiles was a spark. The energy of the earth thrummed in his veins, pounded in his ears, and made everything he touched sing with electricity. He wasn't without his own protection, and honestly Stiles thought that was better.

Stiles could heal, call on the Earth to defeat most of the enemies they'd encountered over the past few years. Deaton was even teaching him different spells and rituals from ancient sparks that could be useful.

One day, he might be the pack emissary, but honestly he wasn't sure what route he wanted to take. He had just turned eighteen, but honestly he grew up right when he took the avenue down into the World Supernatural. He really just wanted a break. Scott and Derek had yet to come to an agreement over the "pack" but they loved to share him for the research, make him outline their attack techniques, and basically be their chauffeur when it came to down to it.

Stiles wished he felt annoyed, but honestly after being the token human for so long, he was so happy his powers thrived and he found his place, even if the pack was barely a real thing. He and Derek were getting along better too, almost as close as he and Scott. Stiles still didn't really understand it and thought himself lucky. After Derek had been fucked over so many times, Stiles thought it was crazy he of all people was the one he trusted. Maybe it was something with Stiles maturing. Scott had swayed from Stiles now that he was involved with Isaac (and sometimes Allison), but it always happened, just like it had in highschool with Allison. That was a subject he didn't even want to broach.

Come to think of it, he hadn't spoken to Scott in a few days since the pixie attack. It took a while for him to recover. Werewolves were no match for the mischievous pixies, who had tricked all of the pack- Isaac, Scott, Boyd, Erica, and even Derek- to fight against each other so they didn't have to directly kill to take over the Hale territory.

It had only taken a simple negotiation for the pixies to leave. They only wanted to Hale territory because of a special flower that could grow there. The flower held their elixir of life, but Stiles searched and searched through old records for another piece of land that could do the same. Stiles' had checked with the neighboring packs before negotiating the moves. Some packs could handle more than one natural entity in its space, but the size of the Hale territory had diminished greatly since Derek's family had flourished there.

The only reason Stiles got hurt in the first place was because it was never a good idea to try and step between fighting werewolves, but he was damned if the pixies were going to kill his pack without trying to stop them. It took a lot of energy to heal the wolves, and later himself. For some reason, pixie dust slowed the healing process down almost as if an alpha had attacked each of them.

Derek was beyond furious when he came to. Stiles had blood dripping down his arms, claw marks on each arm and some that reached his neck, but really weren't as deep. The pack was ashamed for hurting him and it showed. His dad didn't even try to kick them out as they piled around and in his bed. That was the only part he really remembered. Derek slid in beside him, his hand slightly resting on Stiles' shoulder as he applied his werewolf pain reliever to his injured body. Erica was crammed in the other side and had kissed his cheek when she saw him.

Boyd, Isaac, and Scott slept on the floor around the bed.

Stiles didn't even remember the artifact the pixies gave him in exchange for negotiating the land with another pack. Derek delivered it to Deaton right after Stiles had been dropped with Mrs. Mccall to recover. He looked at his phone. One text message.

_[From Derek 15:30pm]_  
><em>Deaton wants you to go to his office to discuss the artifact at 5.<em>

_[To Derek 15:32pm]_  
><em>Yeah, yeah big guy, I know you've missed me. See you there.<em>

He closed his phone with a satisfied sigh and completely ignored the burning sensation in his stomach. It had everything to do with the fact that he had slept 13 hours, failed to eat, and nothing to do with Derek.

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes:<em>

_Hi! Welcome to my first Teen Wolf fic. If you can't tell, I was slightly inspired by Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series. I haven't even made it all through the first book yet, but it's awesome and you should check it out. This wasn't betaed, and I have no idea where I plan on going with this. There probably won't be any explicit sex, but I will warn if anything triggering occurs. Thank you for reading!_


	2. II

**II**

Stiles' visit to Deaton was normal: frustratingly vague and underwhelming. There was also the fact that Derek wouldn't let him out of his sight. It would have been endearing if it weren't so fucking annoying. Stiles needed to figure out exactly what the artifact was for and neither the former emissary or alpha was helping with that.

"So Doc, what's the stitch?"

It was simple in design at least: an even cross, on the first end was a carved moon, the second a smiling sun, the third a small earth, and finally a large tree. The tree almost reminded Stiles of the Nemeton and that made him shudder. He already hated that his magic was physically anchored by the tree. He hated all the creatures that visited Beacon Hills after awakening. Basically, he hated everything to do with it.

It looked like it was taking Deaton a lot of restraint to not roll his eyes, but Derek didn't even try to stop himself.

"It's a door, ajar. You can enter but you might not leave the same way you came in."

Stiles felt his jaw drop. "Are you fucking kidding me? This is not the time for cryptic bullshit Deaton, I need answers."

The man wasn't even startled. "Stiles, It was given to you as a gesture of peace. This cross means no harm. It's a promise, and you know patience is a virtue."

Stiles sneered at the man and slammed the cross down on the vet table and walked out. Derek let him be, knowing he needed the few minutes to calm down.

He leaned against the office door and forced himself to inhale and exhale deeply. His magic was flaring and it was exhausting him. This wouldn't be the first time Deaton's inability to give a straight answer would piss him off.

When he returned, he grabbed the cross and politely offered it to Deaton. Obviously amused, the vet gave a small laugh and pushed it back into Stiles' hands. "It is only meant for the one that originally received it."

The cross gave off its own energy. Stiles didn't like that either. He felt it try to entwine with his own and rejected it. It had taken so long for Stiles to gain control, he wasn't sharing it outside of the pack anytime soon. He was still spent from the run in. It would probably be at least a week before he was really able to resume his magical abilities.

Deaton pushed them both out of the office after Stiles vehemently and repeatedly asked for more information. Deaton's second job, besides being a vet apparently, was being the biggest pain in the ass.

Stiles took his time to complain to Derek. "It's like it sings to me, and tries to share its energy with me. Why couldn't Deaton say what it meant?"

Derek snorted, "That would be too easy. 'A door ajar, you can enter but might not leave the same way you came in.'" He quoted, his stoicness similar to the vet/emissary/man full of bullshit.

"Eh, time travel maybe? Going down the rabbit hole?" Stiles mused.

The werewolf's jaw clenched so hard Stiles was sure it was about to break. So, no time for jokes.

Suddenly, Derek's hands were on both sides of his shoulders. His fingers ran along Stiles' collarbone and seeped his skin in a deep blush. Stiles would never get used to Derek's casually scenting him.

Derek stared hard into Stiles' eyes, making the younger feel like a young child waiting for punishment. Derek's touch was punishment, an imprint of warmth that could be but didn't last. Stiles was slowly painfully untangling himself from his denial for a certain Sourwolf. Slowly. So slow he had barely realized it, until intimate moments likes this. Scenting was so casual among the werewolf pack, Stiles knew he it didn't deem him anything special.

"- are you hearing me?" Derek's voice came from far away and Stiles jerked back, blushing again. Maybe it was for Stiles' sake, but the alpha just powered through the conversation and ignored the flush of his skin.

"I-", Derek stammered and then corrected himself, "We almost lost you to pixies. I think the other wolves would mind losing you to some other alternate universe."

It took Stiles a minute to realize Derek was only half joking. He looked up, and Derek's eyes had turned their electric red. Stiles brought his hand up cautiously to Derek's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"No worries Sourwolf, I'm not going anywhere. Besides home, where I need to sleep and eat and then eat and sleep and-"

Derek laughed dryly, a tiny sound Stiles almost missed. "I think I'm sensing the pattern," his eyes flashed red again,. "Let me know if the cross changes." Stiles knew that wasn't a friendly offer, but his alpha's order.

He knew the relationship between them was something strange and intense. He didn't doubt his place in the pack, ever, and Derek fought fiercely to ensure it remained that way. Still, Stiles always wondered in far, far places of his mind, if his place was only to ensure the presence of his magic. The thought made his stomach drop and his skin crawl, and the thought only came into his mind on particularly bad days.

He gave a nod to Derek. Derek gave him one last sweeping caress across his collarbone before he went to his own car without even saying goodbye.

Stiles' skin was on fire the whole way home.


End file.

Teen Wolf, Adventure, Romance