Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Stiles stood in front of the full length mirror they had set up for him in the Master bedroom, brows arching dubiously as he took in his own reflection.

When was the last time he had done this, he wondered to himself, watching his long fingers twitch as his arms hung limply at his sides. If he wanted to, and he was struggling with the more anxious part of himself that did, he could easily wind them around the silky hem of his favorite pair of black boxer briefs where they cut off on his legs around mid thigh.

Under the palm of his left hand, emblazoned in bright yellow screen printing that contrasted heavily against the otherwise dark fabric, was the bat signal, resting against the outer part of his thigh. The waistband of these particular briefs were the same bright banana yellow, interwoven with black accents including where the word Batman was resting against the bottommost point of his abs.

He came to the conclusion that the last time he had been in front of a mirror like this, down to mostly his skin and able to take in all of himself, had been right after the Nogitsune. When he’d realized that he had been placed in a secondary body he had felt compelled to check over every inch of it, to see if it was like the one that he had known all his life. He had been a quivering mess, unable to look himself in the eye or even let his gaze rest upon any part of himself for more than a few seconds. It had been an eerie disconnect. The image had been his own, but he’d been able to see blood leaking from every pore from the lives that the fox had taken. He’d trembled with the memory of all of it, and had crumbled emphatically under the weight of the responsibility he felt for being too weak to fight back against the ancient spirit. He’d seen his body since then of course, though luckily usually not as a narcissistic bystander like he was now. Of course he had been naked since then, and he was surprised at how used to that he was getting. It’s not that he’d been uncomfortable with it before, he supposed if he thought about it. However, it was more of a condition of being a werewolf than he had anticipated it would have been. Surprising considering how many times he had seen literally all his friends in various states of undress before he had gotten the bite. There was something to be said, however, about aging the time, space, and wherewithal to actually survey himself in a mirror as if he were a third party.

He didn’t know how to feel about all of the changes he has undergone since that last time now that he saw them all stacked up like this.

No longer was he the thin, pale kid he’d been all his life.

The young man that stood in front of the mirror now was tan. Not as tan as Derek was, and he knew by comparison to him and Scott he’d probably still look incredibly pale. However, he still looked less sickly and more robust than he figured he’d had his entire life. He probably would never have more color than this either, thanks to his Eastern European heritage, but he was fine with that.

He could still be characterized as skinny, but unlike his earlier years in high school, he could read the definition in his musculature. His shoulders, biceps and stomach all looked chiseled under his skin. When he ran the pads of his fingers over the collections of fibers, there was very little give. His enhanced werewolf metabolism had eaten away at the last reserves of puppy fat that had hung around from when he was a child; not that there had ever been much to begin with.

He was lithe, strong and fast and not weighted down by an excess of bulk.

And far from defenseless.

Under the leg of the right side of his briefs, two of the legs of his triskele marking danced along the skin. The marks popped against the skin there, lighter than that of his arms and chest thanks to his penchant for long pants. Still, the marking stood out, even more than the dark patches of hair biting into his physique. He ran a hand from his clavicle to his navel contemplatively, taking in the coarse texture of the small patch in the center of his breast bone. It disappeared a bit above where his rib cage ended, only to reappear again around his belly button and create a trail that ended below the elastic line of his waistband.

“You know those are going to have to come off, right?” Said a soft voice behind him, shattering the eerie quiet that he had settled into. He jumped slightly, turning with an amber glare toward the intruder into his inner sanctum.

Though, that couldn’t really be said to be true, not today. He knew before he even began his motion that his reaction was definitely in the overdramatic category, even for himself. Considering the events of the day had been cemented in their calendars for nearly a year now; and the fact that he had his own little entourage that was helping him prepare. He hadn’t been the only one in the room for hours, and he knew that. He didn’t know why everyone was choosing to fuss over him like this when all there really was for him to do was get dressed. But considering the comment, apparently he’d been about to do that wrong, so maybe it had been right for Derek, sequestered upstairs from what Stiles remembered of the plans for the day, to tell everyone to stick close to him and help him get ready.

Maybe his mate thought he was going to get cold feet.

“What?” he asked, clearing his throat when he heard his voice start to squeak. Cami was sitting in a chair that had been brought in, smiling gently at him as she tapped a foot in the air, one leg crossed over the other at the knee. Next to her was Lydia, both of them wearing simple, but nonetheless elegant looking dresses.

“Traditionally, you don’t wear anything under a kilt,” the blond told him, jutting a thumb over toward the bed where said garment was laid out, fresh clean and pressed, just waiting for him to put it on. “Especially not anything that you will be able to see through the kilt.”

“You sure about that?” Stiles asked as he took an unsteady step toward the bed. “These are lucky, you know.”

“Just as sure as I am that my maiden name is O’Connell and that I have cousins in Ireland.”

Lydia chuckled, earning a hardened glance from Stiles. She shrugged a bit. “You know Derek is going to be wearing the same thing, right?” She said, “Nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not like you two haven’t shifted together or anything, you know what each other looks like naked.”

“Speaking of, do you think Nik, Isaac and my Dad are giving him as hard a time as you two are?” Stiles rolled his eyes as the pad of his thumb started to play with the band of his engagement ring, still sitting securely on his ring finger. Derek had already told him that they weren’t going to be doing bands today; with the fact that they could both fully shift it was a bit silly and was just another thing they had to worry about losing if they had to do so quickly for any reason. It was something that they had discussed at length when Stiles was in New Orleans, and he agreed. They didn’t need the rings, he figured, to show what they both already knew. They belonged to each other, and each was made content and happy by the presence of the other. Even their wolves sang under their human skin in harmony when they were with each other. There wasn’t anything that could tear them apart.

“No,” Lydia said simply, giving a bit of a sigh. When Stiles rose a brow at her with a duck of his head to get her to explain, she just sighed, “Stiles, these are traditions from his family, for the most part. They wouldn’t be giving him a hard time because he’s not giving them a hard time.”

That made sense, and Stiles could only grunt as he closed the distance between where he had been standing at the mirror and the corner of the foot of the bed. He was just bringing the heavy fabric around his waist, telling the two women he was going to take his briefs off once he’d made sure he had everything on correctly when Cora burst into the room.

“What the hell, Cora?” Stiles flailed, nearly losing his balance as he moved to turn, just as unnecessarily as the first time, away from the doorway. Cami sighed and moved over to help him make sure everything was in line and where it was supposed to be as the younger Hale went to sit on the bed, bouncing slightly as she let her weight fall haphazardly on the mattress.

“Just making sure you’re getting dressed. Derek’s all ready to go and went outside to start greeting everybody already.” She said simply.

“What?!” the teen squeaked around the persistent frog in his throat. “What time is it?”

“Uhm… two thirty?” Cora shrugged as she checked her watch.

He didn’t even have anything to do. It wasn’t like there was makeup or hair or… “How did it get so late?” He warbled.

“You were in the shower for a while.” Lydia announced, looking over her manicure from the day before. All the girls had gone out and had a spa day, which at the time had seemed pointless to Stiles, because it wasn’t as if there was a lot of prep for him to do, but suddenly he wished he had gone along for a massage or something. “And we did let you sleep in pretty late.”

He had noted that Derek had been absent when he’d woken up that morning. The bed beside him had been cool, and if it hadn't been for Lydia’s shaking of his shoulder, he probably would have forgotten about everything going on and stayed right there for the rest of the day.

“You ok?” Cami asked, looking up at him from where she hovered in a crouch by his left hip, fastening a thick leather belt through the loops on the kilt. Suddenly as he looked down all he could see was grey instead of the white that was the fabric that had been picked out for him while he’d been away. His briefs really did stand out… dammit.

He nodded.

“You sure?”

Again.

Cami frowned up at him, taking his hands in hers. “Lydia, the charm Freya made him, it’s on the countertop in the bathroom, could you get it?”

Lydia nodded, drawing herself out of her chair and disappearing around the corner as Cami led the teen over to the chairs and sat him down in one, taking up the other herself. She cooed at him, reaching up and putting a hand on the back of his neck with a firm grip. The gesture brought scent with it; the security of pack. Stig’s sweetness, Nik’s cunning, Isaac’s loyalty, Liam’s fierceness, Scott’s determination, Malia’s caution, Peter’s snark, Cora’s acceptance, and of course Derek… Derek and his strength. All of their kaleidoscope of scents from the most basic to the most subtle hint flowed around his head in a calming ballet as Cami gently bowed his neck, making sure that his face was between his knees as she guided him forward.

“Breathe Stiles, it’s ok.”

He felt more than saw Cora slink from the bed to in front of his knees, placing her palms on them and resting her cheek against her knuckles in a supportive gesture as a soft rumble worked its way from her throat. So much like her brother’s, but higher in pitch. It worked, fostering strength and security as he wound his free hand around her neck. Cami still gripped the other, leaning in toward him and gently headbutting against him in human solidarity.

A second later, she was leaning back away as Lydia tapped the hand against the back of his neck. He could feel the cool of the glass vial containing the crystals against his skin and knew his back had to be red with heat and blood flow. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, slowing it, letting everything else filter out as Cami fastened the protection charm back around his wrist. “That’s it, just breathe.”

He gave a little nod, feeling Lydia’s hand come to his back and run up and down the parts of his spine that she could reach. This wasn’t a panic attack. It felt like it, but he wouldn’t be able to allow tactile stimulation like this if that was the case. In the midst of panic everything went one of two ways. He either lost all sense of himself, including feeling in his peripheral nerves, becoming enticingly numb to the world around him, or everything became hypersensitive. The smallest of touches felt like he was being pounded by a hammer into an anvil, every breath felt like a struggle, light seemed blinding no matter how dim, sounds deafening no matter now dull.

This was a strange new feeling, a sort of otherness that didn’t exactly feel wrong, but at the same time was overwhelming. It was hard to pin down, to get a real scope of what it was that he was feeling. Impossible to define.

Finally, the only thing he could do was settle on overwhelmed and leave it at that.

“This is your day, Stiles.” Cora was murmuring at his knee. “You’re not making anyone who doesn’t want to be here wait. Everyone is so happy for you and for Derek. I was just checking up on how everything was going.”

She was apologizing.

His fingers around the nape of her neck twitched, tightening their grip incrementally, trying to convey that she didn’t need to. There was nothing to apologize for. He knew. He loved her. There wasn’t anything wrong, no need to apologize. He hoped that she understood.

Her rumble grew even stronger, and Stiles managed a smile.

Chemosignals were amazing when verbal communication just couldn’t happen for one reason or another.

Having stayed sitting straight after she’d replaced his crystal charm, Cami patted the back of the hand that she still had a hold of, agreeing with Cora’s sentiment and statement that it was ok to take however much time he needed. They were there for him. Everyone was. No one was going to be mad if he made them wait while he steeled his nerves.

“It’s a good day, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t also going to be a stressful day. What’s going on in your head is normal, ok? Trust me, I’m pretty sure I fainted at least once the day Klaus and I got married, just breathe.” The psychologist said, stalwart support in her voice. “Feel free to take as long as you need, Stiles. You have all the time in the world here, ok? This is your home and you get to call the shots today.”

He gave another little nod and a deep breath before sitting up slowly. Cora smiled up at him devilishly, broad grin showing teeth that were a little longer and pointier than usual, her brown eyes shining a little yellow at the edges of her irises with emotion.

She was just as happy as he was. He could tell in an instant. Between the scents and the loss of control over her shift, it would have been hard for even a human to miss. Ever since he had met her, Cora had never really been one to wear her heart on her sleeve or show much emotion; just like Derek was. She was just lucky that there were very few humans that had been invited to the wedding, and even more so that those that had been were already initiated into their world in one way or another. Cami, of course, because she was pack anyway, and his father and Melissa had been no-brainers, since they were some of the biggest influences in his life. Deaton was here too, as both the previous emissary for the pack and a further connection to Talia, which gave the Hales a bit of comfort since she couldn’t be there in the flesh. Stiles’ grandmother, of course. He was also pretty sure that Ken Yukimura, Kira’s father, was in attendance as well. Kira was more or less pack as well at this point, and Derek had invited Satomi Ito, as well as the other alphas in the county. Once he’d done that he’d said it would have been rude not to extend a branch out to the Yukimuras, especially since Kira and Noshiko had been instrumental in defeating the Nogitsune, which had been the catalyst for this whole affair. Other than that, everyone gathering outside was a member of the supernatural community in either Beacon Hills itself or Beacon County in general.

Except for the rest of the Mikaelsons, that was. They may be supernaturals, or had been at one point, but that didn’t replace the fact that they were the farthest flung guests here. Practically strangers.

The wedding was anything but a private affair, which Stiles would have probably preferred, but Derek had explained why it just couldn’t be. He had seemed put off by inviting so many people as well, and Stiles took comfort in that fact. He just wanted everyone to be safe, and to not have other packs come sniffing around looking for trouble when they heard the Hale Pack had returned to a place of prominence.

“Thanks guys,” he said after a minute. “I think I’m good.” His eyes traveled away from Cora to Cami at his left, and flicked to his peripheral to take in Lydia as well. “You can go.”

“You sure?” Lydia asked, still smoothing the skin of his back with her palm. He could feel her thumb traveling along the golden outlines of his tattoo whenever it was in reach, and it made him smile, remembering her and Klaus going with him to the parlor in the quarter run by one of the coven witches to get it done. How she had sat on the same side as he laid on his stomach, holding his hand out at arm’s length, so he wouldn’t be nervous or tempted to move it when the artist had started.

How fitting that she was here by his side for this too.

That was another thing that had changed over the last few years with him. He had gone from a smitten - more like obsessed - kid who had been unsure about anything in his life except his love for Lydia, to someone so confident in his decision that he was mostly just nervous that he’d trip on his way to Derek’s side and make a fool out of himself and his pack in front of everybody; all these important strangers. It wasn’t hard to believe that that lack of confidence back then had extended all the way to his sexuality. In some ways, he still had a lack of confidence in that, he realized. He just knew that he loved Derek for all he was, for everything deep down, not just the package he was rolled up in. What mattered to him was that Derek had been there for him. Through everything. Even when he hadn’t wanted to be. Even when he’d made it completely obvious how much he didn’t want to be. He had still been there. Still made the effort. Still made a point to make sure he was there and that everyone, especially Stiles, had known that.

But now… Lydia was like a best friend. She hadn’t really been replaced. On some level he still loved her, but it was more a familial type of love, a love that didn’t hold a true flame, but was still warm and compassionate and trusting. The same sort of love that he had for Cora, or any other member of the pack, really.

He gave her a nod. “Yea, yea I’m sure.” he reiterated, giving them a smile. “I’ll see you out there.”

They both leaned in, one at a time, to give him a kiss on the cheek before moving toward the door, leaving him with Cora for a few minutes. Just before Lydia was about to close the bedroom door behind her, he held out a hand. “If you see Melissa-”

“I’ll let her know you’re ready for her.”

“Thanks.”

He watched as the door closed behind her with a click, and looked back down at Cora. Unlike the women who had just left, she was wearing a kilt like he was, though hers was a solid black while his was solid white, pleats and all. He figured that she was wearing it to match Derek, though for modesty reasons she was also wearing a black button up and dark tailored suit coat. It definitely fit her sense of style over a dress like Cami and Lydia were wearing. Part of him wondered if it was a family thing, or if it had something to do with the run after the ceremony… However, as far as he knew, Cora had yet to be able to master a full shift like he and Derek, and even her cousin Malia could do. She looked comfortable in her skin though, which was a little more than what he could say for himself at the moment. He’d never been as exposed as he was about to be in front of as many people as were gathered here today, and it made him a little nervous.

He knew both he and Derek had comfortable clothes waiting for them in their lockers in the mud room for the reception… and he was so looking forward to curling up in a flannel and a pair of cargo shorts for the rest of the night.

“You’ll be fine.” Cora told him, leaning up and rubbing her cheek against his to spread the heady scent of pack over his skin. It wasn’t the only one that she placed there though; she’d been out with Derek greeting everyone, and their foreign scents on her were harder to identify than the close in familiar ones. Jasmine and fresh young tea leaves was probably Satomi, and there was a spice of vodka that he recognized from holidays with his grandparents which meant that his grandmother and father were definitely here. Antiseptic, which could have been either Deaton, Melissa or Scott, or a combination of all three of them. Ozone and sake could have been the Yukimuras or some members of Satomi’s pack. About all he knew about them was that they were buddhists and that they had probably been told to bring alcohol if any of them were coming aside from their Alpha. He knew Derek had left it open ended for the other members of any local packs, not wanting to pressure anyone.

“Lot of people?” Stiles asked, and felt her nod into the crook of his shoulder..

“You don’t have to worry about them though. Derek’s going to be waiting for you, and that’s what matters, right? And your grandmother is doing the ceremony, just like you wanted.” Cora told him, voice softer than any human would have been able to hear had she been speaking to one, her arms snaking around his shoulders. He smiled against the hug, his own arms going around her as he leaned forward. He had made that decision last minute, when he had come home to hear that she was here. Derek had quickly relented. There was a lot of the Hales in the ceremony, he said, but he had also wanted Stiles and his culture to be represented. After all it was Stiles’ day too. Stiles had been quick to them him to make only a few changes, because where he had family who was here, his dad and his grandmother, Derek only had Peter from that generation, and that was far from the same.

Besides, they couldn’t go completely traditional. He was hardly a bride, after all. His father had jokingly insisted on white for his attire, but Derek had run with it as if he’d been completely serious.

“Yea.” Stiles smiled. “I wish your parents could have been here too. For Derek.” He murmured.

“Stiles… they are.” Cora’s voice was quiet, reverent. “Maybe not in the way that your dad is here but, they’re here. We’re on their land, the land that they left to us. You and Derek, you are remaking their pack. You’re replanting the Nematon that was here from the time our ancestors got here. We’re outside, in the open air, where their spirits and all the rest of our family can be there and watch and be a part of this. How could they not be here?”

Stiles conceded that that made sense, he supposed. He had never been one to believe in anything religious or spiritual before he had seen the supernatural with his own eyes. He’d been accused of living in the clouds a lot as a kid, but every one of his daydreams had been grounded in scientific proof, research, and the tangible undeniability of his own experiences. He’d never really believed in heaven or hell, in gods or angels or demons, and truth be told he still didn’t. The only real difference now is that he knew that science couldn’t explain everything going on in the world. They just couldn’t measure everything. Anything scientific, if you went back far enough, could have been looked at as magic because there wasn’t any understanding of it.

Of course he believed in his own abilities, and in those of his friends. He’d seen them acting and reacting within this world for years now.

And of course, if Cora and Derek believed that their parents’ spirits were here on the land, watching over them and able to see what was going on today, then who was he to piss on that proverbial bowl of cheerios? Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Talia’s spirit himself here before. Just because none of them could see her now didn’t mean she wasn’t really here, did it?

And if they could believe that as faithfully as Cora was displaying now… then maybe, just maybe… he could believe that his mother was in the audience as well, right alongside Noah.

He was saved from having to answer the question that he hoped was rhetorical by a gentle knock on the door. It opened a bit and Melissa’s head, all soft puppy eyes and dark curls that were barely contained by the self same ponytail she wore when she was at work poking through the gap. “Lydia said you were ready?” she asked.

Stiles nodded, feeling Cora’s hands trail away from him as she stood. “I’ll see you guys outside.” she said, moving over to the door and slipping past Melissa as the nurse walked in.

“Your briefs, Stiles!” She called back as the door was closing, causing the young man to chuckle.

“Yea, ok.” he shot back as he moved to stand, bending a bit to do an awkward maneuver and strip himself of his undergarment while trying not to fall or end up with his kilt askew on his hips. He was just kicking his briefs off and over toward a hamper in the corner when he felt Melissa’s hand come to his shoulder.

“You got a tattoo?” She huffed out, amused chuckle heavy and obvious in her voice, giving him flashes from a few years back, when he had gone to her after the ritual sacrifice that had made him susceptible to the nogitsune’s possession at the hospital. Before she had fallen for the trap that it had set using his mother’s illness as bait in him. He hadn’t been sleeping at the time, and she had given him a sedative after checking him into a private room and checking him out so that he could get some sleep. She knew how much he hated needles. The thought of him getting a tattoo must have been extreme for her.

He straightened up, letting her take in the sight of the stylized lily on his shoulder blade, feeling her fingers tracing over the planes of alternating royal purple and hunter green.

“Yea, last year,” Stiles informed her, staying stock still. The touch felt good, he had to admit. For what had to have been the millionth time, he wished sorely that Claudia had survived to see this day, to see him find love like this. To watch him grow up had been all she had ever wanted, and there was a tiny part of him that felt wrong doing this without her. They might not be here the way your dad is, but they’re here, Stiles. He let Cora’s words play over again in his head.

“I didn’t think wolves could get tattoos.” Melissa mused, causing Stiles to wonder when Scott had told her that the tattoo on his arm wasn’t really a tattoo at all but a burn scar, when she had come to realize that Derek’s triskelion was the same.

He gave her a shrug. “I think it helps to know people. The people I was staying with-”

“The two British guys outside?” Melissa asked.

“Yea, funny enough, they are actually Danish, but anyway, the younger brother is actually a werewolf, He has a couple that I asked him about and he knew someone who was able to do it for me when we were in New Orleans.”

The nurse nodded, letting her hand drop from his skin then, “So what brought this on?”

“It was where Deaton shot me with that lichen. It always itched and just… reminded me of what happened.”

“But you didn’t have the marks anymore.”

“I think it was like a phantom limb thing?”

She nodded then, understanding what the young man meant. She raised her other hand, lifting an intricately woven crown of what smelled and looked like rosemary and California lilacs over his head to rest it against his hair. She’d brought it in with her, but he’d thought that the scent was a new perfume she was trying out, and hadn’t realized what she had had in her hand with his back to her as it had been.

“Your grandmother told me not to forget that.” she answered his questioning look. “Something about tradition for the bride and fidelity, though I have a feeling you don’t need to worry about that at all.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to say no because it’s her, but man do I wish that the wedding rights were less binary.” he grumbled.

Melissa laughed, taking in his appearance all at once again. “I remember when you were just a little guy, and your mom was bringing you in to meet with Doctor Ocryn.” she said, her eyes teary, voice cracking with barely contained emotion as she beheld her son’s best friend. “Now look at you, Stiles…” She leaned forward, putting her arms up and around his shoulders. He was only slightly taller than she was, but it was enough of a difference to make hugging a bit of an awkward affair. It would have been worse if he was actually wearing shoes, but while Melissa was wearing sensible heels, he was barefoot. “You’re all grown up and I couldn’t be more proud of you. I know Claudia is too.”

He gave her a tight squeeze, bowing his head over her shoulder as they embraced. “I wish she was here…”

“Everyone does, kiddo.” She murmured with a sniffle.

“Don’t cry, your makeup is going to run.”

“I’m trying.”

“Come on, I asked you to do this because I didn’t want to deal with an emotional parent.”

That got her to laugh, and she smacked a hand against his collarbone as she let go of him. “Yea, your dad would not be able to handle giving you away. He’s already a wreck out there.”

“Oh no…”

“No, no, he’s happy for you, really he is. He just… I don’t think he expected anything like this so fast.”

Stiles gave a lopsided smirk as he moved toward the bedroom door with her. “Yea, he’s not the only one.” he said.

Honestly, other than when he had been fantasizing about Lydia when he was younger, he had never really given much of a thought to love or marriage or any of this. He was surprised that out of all his friends, he was the first one to tie the knot as it were, not to mention that he had barely been able to wait until he was out of high school. He could remember wondering who would ever want someone like him, and if he had ever dared to imagine that person, it definitely had never been anyone that had even remotely resembled Derek Hale. Not even in his wildest dreams.

The house was empty as they moved their way through the living room over toward the breakfast nook and the back door, but he could already see and hear the hubbub outside. There were caterers just setting up on the patio, and Stiles knew that Derek had paid extra for them to set up and then come back for their supplies the next day, so that they didn’t have to worry about any humans that were lurking around catching sight of shifted werewolves or calling about wolves howling in the preserve - something that was definitely not supposed to be a thing - and having the rest of the sheriff’s department, animal control and the California Department of Fish and Wildlife descending on the house in the middle of a wedding. So they were doing their thing during the ceremony and then heading out. Which worked well for Stiles. He had wanted something intimate, small and friendly when he had spoken to Derek about everything and they had both decided that a buffet-style reception would be best. Tables were being set up on the lawn so people could sit down and eat afterward. It didn’t look like the baker had shown up yet, but that was fine. He had time.

There was no sign of Derek or the rest of the pack as he and Melissa exited via the back door. They were all down in the grove already, it seemed, and Stiles could see the backs of the last straggling guests that Lydia, Cami and Cora had herded into the woods finding places down there now.

There had been chairs being set up all morning, he had known, but that was also the cool thing about Canyon Oak Trees. Their branches were usually low and wide spread, and so they also made for great natural seating. For werewolves, it seemed like there was no better perch. At least not for their crowd. As he and Melissa approached, he could see that the important guests had all gotten the chairs and were up close to the central stump of the Nematon, which they were using as a stage and also part of the ceremony. His father, Satomi, Deaton, and a few other alphas that he didn’t recognize. Cami as well, with little Stig on her lap.

His grandmother was already standing on the gnarled and weather beaten stump of the ancient oak.

With her, a pace or two closer to where he and Melissa were approaching, was a familiar figure.

Derek, dressed just as Stiles had thought he would be. A kilt to similar to the one Cora was wearing, black and extending to just above his knees. Like Stiles he was bare from the waist up, all wide muscle set on an imposing frame. His hands were down, clasped before him, wringing with nerves it seemed. He was shuffling similarly bare feet against the splintered wood beneath him, eyes on his toes.

Until the wind shifted, carrying with it his and Melissa’s scent to the gathered host of supernaturals. All at once it seemed every eye was on him. Including the hazel tones that mattered most to him.

And in that moment, Stiles felt like he had been transported back to that day, years ago, when he and Scott had been stumbling through these very woods looking for a dropped inhaler. An inhaler that Derek Hale had nonchalantly tossed at Scott after appearing in the gloom of the early spring day. He’d turned their backs on them just as abruptly, leaving them only with a warning that they were on private property.

Derek had shaved. And it took years off of his appearance.

It also made him look all the more intimidating. Stiles found he missed the scruff and the softness it offered to the born wolf’s chiseled features, but knew that Derek wouldn’t have shaved on a day like today if he hadn’t felt it was necessary.

His breath left him in a soft keen that he was sure the wolves around him all heard, and that made him swallow a bundle of nerves that had grown in his throat.

As soon as Melissa realized they’d been spotted, she smiled and reached over, intertwining her left arm with Stiles’ right. She patted the back of his hand with her right, a sniffle working from her as she looked up at him.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered down at her, gently bumping his shoulder against hers.

Apparently beyond words at the moment, all she could bring herself to do was squeeze his hand and bump her shoulder back into his as they started on the walk down through the grove together. There had been a long runner that was laid down for them to walk on of plush burgundy, though a breeze had swept a few errant leaves over it here and there. Wolves surrounded them on either side, and as they moved through, Stiles caught sight of his friends and family here and there, dispersed amongst them. Scott and Isaac were leaning against a tree together, Isaac’s arms draped over Scott’s wider shoulders. Malia and Cora were sitting on a branch on the other side of the grove. Elijah, Freya, and Marcel had found seats, as had Jackson and Hayley, though they were closer to the Nematon than the others thanks to their alpha status.

The next time Stiles looked ahead of him at Derek, his mate’s eyes were shining like rubies. There was a softness there that he knew he was probably the only one privy to, but there was also a possessiveness and impatience - a desire that was caught and mimicked within Stiles’ own wolf, causing his eyes to reflect the color back at his mate. Around them in the grove, their pack answered back, shades of gold and blue falling upon their alphas as they drew closer together.

The mere moments that it took for Melissa to escort him through the grove felt like they stretched out into hours. When they got close enough, Derek came in close, reaching out with his hand and stepping down off of the stump with one foot in order to receive the hand of his mate and help him step up. Melissa stepped aside, offering the hand that she held of the younger alpha up to the born wolf, though her grip lingered for a moment as their fingers intertwined. Stiles’ gaze was laser focused on Derek at this point, but he watched as the alpha’s crimson gaze flicked over toward the nurse. There was a moment of hesitation as he regarded her, the teen’s best guess was that his not quite surrogate mother was exuding protectiveness and unspoken threats should anything happen to him while he was under Derek’s care. Sweet of her, really.

All he could see was the gentle nod and grin of acceptance on his mate’s face in her direction before Melissa drifted away, going to take a seat left open and empty for her by his father’s side that he had noticed earlier.

With that, Stiles stepped up onto the aged wood with Derek, the man who had become his everything when his world had burned down around him, steadying his progress and ensuring there were no misplaced feet or tripping hazards. The man who had risen from the ashes of his own inferno to do so.

He could feel the magic in the old tree react to him as he did so. The prickle against the soles of his feet that ignited the fire in his belly from his own energies. He wanted so badly to jump into Derek’s arms right then and there, the flame inside of him almost too much to bear as he stood there, but he swallowed once more and forced himself to remain still.

He squeezed Derek’s hand, held within his own, giving a lopsided grin to his mate as they faced his grandmother. Like that first morning that he had found her here doing her cleansing dance around the Nematon, her waist was adorned with a kerchief threaded with ancient coinage of bronze and silver, causing melody to follow her where she moved. She wore a white dress, though it was yellowed with age around the hems, looking like it had been stored for many years, but was nonetheless an important ritualistic piece of costuming. Unlike that day, her hair, silver and faded chestnut, was down and loose around her shoulders. She held a silk cord of a delicate, deep cherry hue in her hands, and her eyes shown with pride and tears of joy and gratitude to have lived long enough to be able to see this day, even if her daughter had been unable to do so. She smiled, giving each of them a nod before asking them to take a step closer to each other, so that they were nearly touching at the shoulder. This being done, she reached forward, gently lifting their conjoined arms.

She took the cord in her hands and looped it around their elbows, creating a delicate knot that she made sure to nestle between their arms, before using the rest to work down the length of their forearms toward their wrists, crossing the ends of the cord over each other several times as she did. She worked diligently, but quickly, making sure that the binding was neither exceedingly loose or tight so as not to damage either of them. It was obvious that she had done this more times than she could disclose, and Stiles could only watch her work in wonder, just as he had as a child when she had been baking. Once she reached their wrists, she created a larger knot and bow there, and tested the binding once more before nodding, happy with what she had achieved before stepping back.

“Alphas, family, esteemed friends, loved ones and assorted creatures of Beacon County,” Kisa began then, holding her arms wide. “You have been invited to this hallowed ground to witness the rebirth of the Hale Pack. This is a day long hoped for in many circles, and we are all blessed to have you here to witness this most sacred of occasions. Today we will be joining in strength and spirit these two alpha wolves: Derek Hale and ‘Stiles’ Stilinski, and forming a mating bond between them.” She paused then, giving Stiles a wink. He was so glad that she had used his chosen name. He knew what it meant for his family, but he just didn’t want this many people knowing it.

It seemed too risky to him. Besides, he’d been going by Stiles for so long now anyway.

“But first,” Kisa began again, dropping her hands and clasping them before her, “According to the traditions of the Hales and by request of Derek, we will start with a Caim for the new couple.” She looked to the right and the left, into the assembled crowd. “If the pack members amongst the assembled would please step forward and join hands in a circle?”

Stiles blinked, his eyes moving over to Derek. His mate was in motion, moving to kneel, and the younger wolf didn’t really have much of a choice but to follow suit, craning his neck in a questioning way. He hadn’t heard of this before, but like his mate grooming for the occasion, he figured there was a reason. The born wolf’s eyes were closed, his head down with his chin to his chest, as if in prayer, and Stiles decided that later would be a better time to ask. As it was, he could feel other motion around them, and looked to see the stump of the Nematon being ringed by the members of their pack. Just the wolves, but still, the effect was awe inspiring.

Cora, Peter, Malia, Isaac, Scott, Liam, Hope and Klaus were kneeling all around them. Off to the side, there was a soft conversation going on before even little Stig rushed over to a chorus of ‘aws’ to where his father was kneeling. Klaus smiled, taking the boy’s hand and telling him to reach over to Hope and take hers as well. Stiles had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle at the excess of adorableness in such an otherwise solemn moment.

With everyone in place, Kisa began again. “Thank you. And now, if each of you would repeat these words and offer your prayers -”

Circle us Ancestral Spirits,
Keep love within, keep hatred out.
Keep joy within, keep fear out.
Keep peace within, keep worry out.
Keep light within, keep darkness out.
May you stand in the circle with us, today and always.

The rest of the grove outside of the circle was silent, but Stiles could feel energy buzzing all around him, through him. He felt safe and whole and surrounded, just like he did when he was in Derek’s arms, or those of his father or Melissa. Warm and pressed from all sides, as if he was curled up on the sofa or his bean bag with his weighted blanket. He could feel static running along the back of his neck, down his arm, his energy blending with Derek’s through their bound harms and entwined fingers. He felt them both, coming together and coalescing as one strength, one being, and let out a gasp, his eyes moving to their grasping hands.

The chord binding them together looked nearly translucent, ethereal and light. Its very edges shone and shimmered against their skin, and it almost felt as if it was vibrating.

Derek didn’t look bothered by this development at all, and Stiles wondered if he was the only one perceiving the difference now. He was too dumbstruck to ask, and even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t have been the time anyway.

Prayer concluded, Kisa instructed the pack to return to where they had been observing. Though the wall of protective talons and teeth had subsided, the electrical storm within Stiles remained, the heat making him feel dopey and sluggish. Normally such a sensation would cause him to feel unnerved, but the heavy effectiveness of the sheer love and interconnectedness of the pack, the way that they had all stood there as a shield for himself and Derek - it put him into an extreme sense of ease. He felt as if there were very little, if anything, that could bring him down at this very moment. He hoped Derek felt the same, but as ever, the other male was hard to read.

Stiles’ attention found its way back to his grandmother as she went through what seemed to him to be rather mundane wedding rites after such a powerful show of magic; speaking vows and of the unity between himself and his mate. At one point, he felt Derek’s claws against the back of his hand, gently resting on the skin of his knuckles, and he looked over to see the man regarding him as they knelt there before their guests and families. Unlike before, where there had only been hints of softness, now it seemed full-fledged. A bed of roses, devoid of thorns, open and willing and raw and bare before Stiles, accepting of all of him and holding no secrets, and it struck Stiles so breathless that he had to be brought back to coherence by one of those claws at the back of his hand in order to repeat a reverent and breathless ‘I do.’

Deaton came forward from his seat then, carrying with him a sapling that couldn’t be much older than a year, barely anything to speak of at all. Despite this, Stiles could feel the well of energy within it. A well that radiated the same protection and wavelength of energy that he and Derek had been sharing since they’d been bound together. Without needing prompting, the two alphas bent forward, the sharp claws of their beta shifts finding the center of the old stump’s age rings - the very soul of the old tree - and began to scratch and dig, bringing away bits and pieces of pulp and drawing up earthy scents as they made a hole.

From the ashes there would be a new beginning. From the old would come the new. What better symbolism was there than in planting this new source of magic in the heart of the old?

As they dug together, Peter also came toward them, as did Cora. One had in their arms a mixture of fertilizer, the other a can of water. It took only a few moments, but before long they had made a suitable place for the new tree, the one that Derek had brought back from Los Angeles. Fertilizer was added to the wolf-made mulch of the old Nematon and packed around the sapling before it was watered.

It was only then that Stiles realized that the cord binding him and Derek together had disappeared. His arm shivered with warmth as he turned it over under his gaze, taking note of delicate red lines fading into the skin of his inner forearm where Kisa had tied the knots. He ran his left hand over them, tilting his head this way and that as he regarded the fading marks.

“And so, we celebrate the return of magic to Beacon Hills, as well as the return of the Hales.” Kisa was saying. “May the bonds made here today last forevermore, never to be torn asunder.”

There was a moment of applause before she spoke again. “And may I present to you, Derek and Stiles Hale, Alphas of Beacon Hills.”

The cacophony didn’t stop at applause this time, but broke out into howls as the sun began to set to the west. A wild sort of fury peeked in Stiles then, the need to run blossoming inside of him. To be in his wolf skin, to move and chase and hunt and be by his mate’s side. Next to him, Derek’s form was already shifting, and in seeing this, the bitten wolf allowed his inhibitions to slide from him as his own shift began.

“The Alphas would like for me to extend an invitation to those who wish to join them in their first run as a couple.” Kisa cooed as the two wolves stood before her moments later. “For the rest of us, there are refreshments back at the house.

Around them there was the sound of wolves letting loose their human skins, breaking into their wild selves in celebration. Upon the stump, Kisa knelt, reaching out to gently tussle the ears of the two closest to her however. “May your legs be swift and your night clear.” she told them both, “We will see you soon.”

And the small cadre of wolves, led by Derek and Stiles, took off into the woods then, yipping and barking amongst themselves, their howls bouncing around the valleys and trees that they called home.