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No matter what Erica, Boyd, Jackson or Isaac insinuated, Derek wasn’t scared of Stiles Stilinski.
Derek was a werewolf; an Alpha werewolf, with a pack (of teenagers) that he could employ to destroy him whenever he wanted. He wasn’t scared of an 18 years old gel abusing, blanket stealing, plaid wearing, sarcasm yielding 147 pound kid.
“Stiles is home,” sang Erica and Derek froze. But when the blonde stared at him victoriously, he immediate schooled his expression into something that could pass for Bitch Face Number 5: eyebrows close together, eyelids dropping, lips almost pursed.
Although his stomach did do something funny at Erica’s use of the word ‘ home ’.
To be honest, the place wasn’t much of a ‘home’, not in the way the burn Hale house had been for him. But there was enough room for the entire pack, and the spartan furniture was slowly but surely being covered by clothes, make up, bags and books belonging to the varying members of the pack.
And it smelled like them, which to Derek, was what really mattered.
He heard the door closing and looked up from the couch, innocently gazing at where the brunette was approaching.
“Hey-” Started Stiles, but then he frowned. He narrowed his eyes at Derek. “What did you do ?” he questioned and the dark haired wolf nearly pouted.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Then what's with the,” he made a vague gesture towards Derek’s whole face. “You look constipated.”
Erica giggled at that, and Stiles’ eyes snapped in her direction. He smiled, throwing his bag on the floor and patting her cheek. “Hey, Catwoman. Did you guys get everything on the list?”
Boyd and Isaac were cuddling on the loveseat, stealing glances at the blonde and Derek.
The Alpha picked up a book from the table.
“Yup. Derek drove us there,” explained Erica and Derek swiftly turned a page.
Stiles was silent for a few moments. “Hm,” he commented, and Derek could hear the sound of Jackson snorting from where he was supposedly asleep upstairs, too faint for the brunet to be heard.
Derek heard him disappear in the kitchen, and turned another page of the book, having absorbed absolutely nothing from the previous one.
He ignored when the trio in the living room came to sit around him, focusing on the page in front of him. They weren’t saying anything, which was almost as infuriating as if they were.
“Hm,” they heard from the kitchen.
Derek turned another page.
“Hey, Derek,” whispered Isaac from next to him. “Do you think you can take me to the lacrosse game party later on?”
The Alpha didn’t look up from the paper. “Isn’t Stiles on the team too? Why don’t you ask him to take you there?”
He heard the blond huffing next to him. “He’s not going, and he told Jackson and Scott they can’t take me unless I manage to raise my grade in English.”
Derek narrowed his eyes at the page, gingerly turning another page. “And why would I take you?”
“He’s not the boss of you.”
The older man froze, hand still on the page he was turning.
“He’s not the boss of you...” repeated Boyd.
This is a trap , whispered his brain to him.
“He’s not the boss of you.” said Erica.
He is right, whispered his heart to him.
He could feel all three betas staring at him, as he considered his options. On one side, Stiles was right. Because of all the werewolf stuff and their newfound popularity, all of the betas had been really struggling with their school work.
Stiles had declared that all of them - himself included - should shy away from the pleasures of life until their GPAs stopped crying, and they were all adhering to it.
Everyone’s grades had improved because of it.
On the other side, Derek was the alpha. Whatever he said, went, and Isaac knew that.
He could very easily tell him to go and Stiles couldn’t say anything about it.
Technically .
It was Derek’s right as an Alpha.
“Hm?” came from the kitchen, and then Boyd was gone.
For someone of such build and height, it was surprising how quickly and soundlessly he could move - even if he just went from the couch back to the loveseat.
Erica and Isaac weren’t as fast, as Stiles appeared from the kitchen, a bag of crisps safe in his hands. Wait, Derek was innocent, he wasn’t supposed to know what Stiles was holding in his hands. He was just reading.
“What is this?” asked Stiles and Derek did not look up.
Erica, the backstabbing bastard that she was, ratted him out immediately. “We told Derek that he shouldn’t buy those since we weren’t having any parties any time soon, but he didn’t listen!”
Derek peeled his eyes away from the book long enough to bleed his eyes red at the beta, fangs growing in his mouth. Unsurprisingly, and, honestly, quite depressingly, the beta’s scent did not change in the slightest. In fact, it was like she was amused .
“Hey, Derek. Why did you buy these?” asked Stiles and the reason why Derek shivered for a second there was because it was a little cold. That’s it.
He slowly turned around to face the younger boy.
The brunette was holding the pack of crisps like one would hold a dead possum they found in the bathroom, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together.
“You’re not the boss of me?” he finally said, and why did his voice end as a question?
He heard a squeak coming from Isaac, before the boy disappeared upstairs. When Stiles didn’t blink, Boyd grabbed Erica by the arm, dragging her upstairs with him.
Traitors.
“I’m not?” wondered Stiles aloud, and with the way he stalked towards him, he had definitely been spending too much time with wolves.
Derek watched wide eyed as the boy dropped the pack of crisps on the floor and straddled him, grabbing his wrists with his hands. When Derek didn’t reply, he squeezed gently on his hands. “I’m not?” he urged.
“I’m not scared of you,” added Derek instead of answering, swallowing thickly.
Stiles’ lips quirked, and that wasn’t supposed to be hot. He was basically battling for dominance with his very human and very breakable boyfriend, not about to pop a boner.
“I can see that,” commented Stiles, placing both of Derek’s wrists in one of his hands. With the other he dragged a finger on his jaw. “You know you’re going to return those crisps, right?”
Derek kept his eyes on Stiles’. “I threw the receipt away.”
Stiles’ smirk grew. “No you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.” agreed Derek eyes dropping to his lips.
“I’m the boss of you,” added the brunette, eyes dropping a little.
Derek didn’t repeat that . He narrowed his eyes. “I’m the Alpha.”
Stiles ground down on him, eliciting a small groan from the older man. “I’m the boss of you,” repeated Stiles, bringing his lips to Derek’s.
Physically, Derek could take Stiles. But emotionally? Saying no to him? Imagine the toll.
Stiles though, he had no problem saying no to Derek. In fact he was very good at saying no to Derek. It was like, his favourite thing to do.
When Derek didn’t reply, Stiles arched an eyebrow. “You do realise that I run this house, right?”
Derek did. Hell, one could even argue that Stiles run the pack .
The betas always asked him for everything, from advice about school, to complains about relationships and Derek. He was their rock, their constant.
The same way Talia had been when she was alive.
And the same way his father had been when he was alive, Derek was under his thumb.
For the record, he would like to state that it wasn’t fear that kept him from buying those stupid crisps, or letting the betas run wild, or not following Stiles’ shopping list.
The pack could tease him about it, but both Derek and Stiles knew it wasn’t fear.
It was just that,
“I’m the boss of you,”
That .
Derek would do exactly anything Stiles asked him to do. Stiles could ask him to go vegan, and Derek would do as he said.
He was his mate, second half of the Alpha pair.
Stiles pressed his ass further on Derek’s hardening dick, the little insolent smirk not leaving his lips. The wolf tried to lift - pfft. he didn’t really try - himself up, but Stiles used his free hand to push him back down, smile growing at the little whine that Derek let.
“I’m the boss of you.”
Derek closed his eyes, pretending he wasn’t blushing. “You’re the boss of me,”
The brunette moved off him, like nothing had happened and Derek wasn’t on his way to blue ball land. “Exactly! Now get this abomination out of our kitchen, and tell Jackson that it’s his turn to make dinner.”
The pack was not going to let him leave this down.