Archive of Our Own ^beta

Derek started to notice him when they started to rebuild the Hale house...

Everyone was still living at home, of sorts. The crazy monster riddled years were behind the pack. Derek felt safe for once. It was hard to come to terms with. There was still the average threat, but when Isaac returned from his rompings around the world, he brought with him a new set of skills that startled even Derek and Peter when they sparred. (Truth be told, Derek was still surprised, even now, a few years later). Derek was sure the only reason Chris Argent wasn't surprised was he saw it in it's making. Isaac was a capable killer now, but he was still collected, soft spoken, he talked when he was spoken to, and he kept to himself. He spent months teaching the pack the skills he had learned. It hadn't been limited to claws and tooth and hand-to-hand combat; he brought in knives, swords, and guns into the fray as well. Derek hated using the outside tools. It seems Peter did, too, but the others took to it quite well. Particularly Stiles, Lydia, and Danny.

And then life settled down again. Isaac enrolled into the community college. He had finished his high school education in his travels, and settled for long enough to finish several credits of college that he transferred. Derek was, well, surprised with the level of intelligence that Isaac had. It wasn't like Stiles or Lydia, who could spout of facts until the end of the world. They delved into every subject, making sure they were well versed in the first couple of layers of knowledge. If they needed more, they'd push deeper, but most of the time it was all just the basics. Isaac, however, consumed the subjects he was interested in. Derek had trouble figuring out how Isaac had gone from lanky teenage boy to capable, intimidating man just in the span of a few years, especially since Scott and Stiles should've been in the same boat but they were still learning and pushing forward. But when he saw Isaac push into the world of Physics like it was nothing, consuming the facts and the information, storing it all away and even correcting Lydia on something, Derek understood. Isaac didn't waste time with something. He got straight to the point, and made it his mission to perfect it. He learned his skills and he honed them to a dangerous edge. He struggled to do it with more than one subject at a time, however. Four seemed to be his breaking point. And his father had wondered why his grades slipped every now and then. He didn't have the time for seven subjects at once. Derek's heart clenched at the thought, but pushed it down. That was the past, it was over.

Derek was fascinated by the young wolf. He was tall, lean, and with broad shoulders. His muscles rivaled Derek's in some places, though his build was quite a bit more lithe and closer to agility than Derek's. He was fast. In spars that the pack had, Isaac continued to dominate, even putting Scott on his back every now and then. Of course it was all fun and games, but Derek heard Peter talking to Deaton one evening. What if Isaac had returned with the intent of taking Scott's alpha status? Would they have been able to stop him? It was then that Derek started to hone his own skills even more. If Isaac could've taken Scott, there's others that could, too. And they needed to be ready for those threats. He was confident to take down a few enemies, but confidence never blossomed into success, as Isaac said one morning over breakfast at the McCall's. It startled Derek how simply Isaac spoke, like he hadn't just rattled off some piece of advice or wisdom. Derek caught Stiles glancing to Isaac after that, and he knew that he wasn't the only one watching him anymore. There was a second pair of eyes, and if they needed they could compare notes.

After about a year after Isaac's return, Peter flung some plans onto the dining table in the loft. Derek had finally furnished it, though it was still lacking...something. It was strange to him. Everyone was settled, but the loft didn't feel like home. The kids were going to college, Lydia flat out refusing to stay in Beacon Hills to get her college education. Danny was the same way. They spent twelve years of their lives preparing for good universities, and the pack couldn't blame them for it. Peter also returned to school, though as a History teacher for juniors in High School. It was almost unnerving, but the man had leveled out and became much more agreeable. In the end, Derek was reminded that this was how Peter was before the fire. Still, they all kept an eye on him. Derek himself took up a job, a mechanic. It was something he was good at, and it brought in money.

The plans were for the rebuilding of the Hale house, even adding another floor. Derek questioned where Peter would get the money for this, and Peter just flashed him bank statements. Inheritance, the profits from selling Hale family owned properties and assets, and life insurances. Isaac came down the stairs then. He had started living with Derek as Scott had moved out with Stiles to stay in a two bedroom apartment closer to the college campus. He paid rent every month without fail, and bought food every other week on Tuesday. It was surprisingly domestic, and Derek was still trying to get his head wrapped around it. The younger wolf questioned the plans with a calm tone, finger tip tracing the blueprints, finding the curves of the bay windows in what would be the kitchen, where, Derek knew, that Peter was planning on putting a small dining table for small, two to four people breakfasts. Derek was wondering why Isaac seemed so curious for it, when Peter sighed dramatically, as was his way.

"Relax, pup, it won't be the Hale house. It'll be the Pack house." Isaac paused in his movements before long, nimble fingers flipped over the blueprints to the third floor, studying it with a vigor that surprised both of the Hale men. Then the pup flipped back to the second floor, thinking and studying, fingers tracing the walls of the rooms.

"May I have a balcony? With french doors?" he asked. Derek was struck with the tone. Only a few years ago, Isaac would've averted his eyes, frowning and picking at the skin around his nails, timid. This was no longer the pup in front of him. He was confident and secure. Derek felt like the boy could weather a hurricane now. The question was just a question, however, and Derek knew he was over thinking it. It was respectful, but not shy. He wasn't afraid of the Hale men anymore. The boy whose arm Derek broke for training was no longer alive. He was replaced by a collected, intelligent, loyal man, who was probably still healing from the past abuses and losses. Peter nodded, getting a journal from his bag (briefcase, Derek's mind supplied with a smirk) and opening it to write down Isaac's requests. By the end of the week, at the next Pack meeting held in the loft, Peter had jotted down many requests by all of the pack members, and had the plans modified for it.

Within a month, Derek was leaning against the hood of his Camaro (he rebought it after everything settled; he loved that car) with Isaac next to him. Peter was watching with a smug look, sipping from a Starbucks cup, as the house was tore down, and the pieces taken away. It had to be rebuilt from the ground up, and would take quite a bit of time but they had the funds for it. Isaac had even pushed a stack or two..or three..six grand their way. When they protested, Isaac leveled them up a look with a shrug. "It'll be for my room." He said with a scratch on his cheek and pouring himself another cup of coffee. So Peter took the money and added it to the funds. The following week, Derek had brought up Cora at the Pack meeting. He wanted to go down to South America and visit, and ask if she wanted to come back. Scott agreed, and then Isaac sat up straighter.

Isaac's growth into a man had helped his posture and he no longer slouched to be avoided but he still feigned his disinterest during Pack discussions, crossing his arms and leaning back with his feet up on Derek's coffee table (which Derek has taken to gently swatting him with a rolled up newspaper every time he catches Isaac doing it, earning a lazy smile and an exaggerated huff before he slid his feet off the table). So when he sat up, everyone turned to look at him. Derek was once again reminded how much Isaac had changed. In the past, if more than three people looked at him, he would shrink back and stammer over words, as if he was afraid of offending or making someone mad enough that it would warrant of a hit. Now, he looked at Scott, just above his eyes, never making eye contact with the alpha, and asked without much of a fuss if he could join Derek, if Derek didn't mind.

This was a surprising turn. Derek agreed with a dumb tone, startled that Isaac would want to join him for a road trip. Scott agreed, saying if Derek didn't mind that he wouldn't stop Isaac. That had been a running theme ever since Isaac returned, not stopping him if he wanted to leave. No one was sure if Isaac was going to stay. Before he left, he was quickly establishing himself as Second in Scott's pack. Of course, that was during the time of the fox and before Allison's death. It still hurt Derek to think about that. When Isaac left, there was a void in the pack that everyone else had to fill. It hurt, to feel his absence. He hadn't just left Beacon Hills, he left the Pack and severed the bonds that were forming. It was a big, and dangerous, step. And when he returned, as sad as it was to say, there wasn't a spot for him in the pack. However, everyone, without hesitating, started to edge around, making room for him, and Scott had welcomed him with open arms. The bonds were forming again. The first couple of months, Derek had to resist to rub his face over Isaac's neck to scent him. He didn't feel like pack because he didn't smell like it. But with the bonds forming and Isaac lounging around in Scott's, Stiles', and Derek's clothes, cuddling up with Kira or Lydia or Danny (when the latter two came home for breaks) to watch movies, he started to smell like pack again. Like family.

A few more things were discussed, including the progress of the pack house and the patrols of the territory, and the next day Isaac and Derek were packing for a road trip. They left that afternoon, armed with passports, IDs, and money, and a small array of knifes hidden through out the car. Derek had watched as Isaac placed the weapons out of view, but within a quick draw if he needed. He planned for every possible event, even being pinned on the floor behind the seats. Perhaps, Derek thought with a glum frown, that Isaac wasn't well-adjusted after his travels. He was just used to being paranoid and prepared, and confident in his skills. But, Derek recalled with a twitch, confidence doesn't breed success, as he watched Isaac attached his Bowie knife to his hip, and another knife at both of his ankles. Derek thought that getting across the border was going to be borderline impossible with Isaac decked out in weapons. Isaac only smiled in that weird way that was technically a smirk, but it was too sincere and kind to be a smirk, when Derek voiced his concerns. "I don't think they'll care so much," Isaac replied.

And they didn't. The men glanced over Isaac, eyed the knife once, then passed them through. Derek wasn't going to question why, he was just happy that Isaac had been right. The rest of the trip followed in the same fashion. Derek worrying about something, Isaac shrugging it off with that smile-smirk of his, and then Isaac was right and Derek was relieved. They rolled into the small village that Derek had driven to with Cora when she left Beacon Hills. This was the last place Derek had known where Cora was, but Isaac didn't seem too interested in the village. Derek huffed before Isaac could talk and left the car, going to ask around for her. Turns out she had moved on a few years ago. When Derek came back, he felt empty. Isaac was quiet for a moment as he typed something into his phone. Suddenly the dry, border-line bored tone of a GPS filled the car, telling Derek to drive seventeen miles. He looked at Isaac in confusion, eyebrows raising in a demand to be caught up.

"I visited her a few times." Isaac said softly. Derek still didn't move. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he had a new question. Isaac had spoken too softly, and it was very similar to how he was years before, shy and ducking head. He was ashamed of something, and Derek's mind could only jump to the worst conclusion. When Isaac glanced up to see why they hadn't started to move only to see Derek's 'you need to tell me everything' eyebrows, as Stiles called them (Derek just rolled his eyes when Stiles declared that, to which Stiles declared that was his 'I'm too old for this shit' eyebrows, and really, Derek had to commend him on his spot on naming). Isaac sighed a bit, running his fingers through his short curls, pushing them back but they only bounced back into place. "Derek, remember when I asked about your sister, and you told me, in not so many words, not to even dare?" He asked, picking at the skin around his thumb. Derek's hand tightened around the steering wheel, jaw clenched.

"Look, it wasn't...We're both broken, and I was passing through the town she was in, and she spotted me in the crowd. We caught up, and it just sort of happened."

"Is that why you're here?"

"I miss her." And that floored Derek. Just always straight to the point, Isaac was. It wasn't even a proper answer to his question, yet it answered that, and many other of Derek's questions. They sat in silence for a moment, Derek staring passed Isaac, his mind running with many questions, mostly 'What did Isaac do while he was away?' He didn't talk about his travels unless directly asked. Derek learned that he picked up his skills in France with family of the Argents, and then he traveled around, taking classes where he could and earning his credits, and if he stumbled across something evil in the supernatural sense, he'd kill it and save lives. But mostly he just traveled. And mostly it was Stiles who asked the questions. Derek wondered if there was any significance to that. A part of him wondered if Stiles wanted to leave as well, just travel and get out of Beacon Hills after everything that happened. Most of him, though, tried not to think about it.

"Isaac, I know you're a good man," Derek started, looking at Isaac with a level look, "so it'll make my murder of you more justifiable if you hurt her." It wasn't really a blessing, though maybe it was. Maybe he was tired of seeing people without people. He was tired of seeing singles, milling around, taking comfort in each other. He wanted couples, even if they would be sickeningly sweet, like, rot your teeth out sweet, in public. It was better than seeing lonely people. Isaac studied him for a second, just a second before nodding. And they were driving again, Derek following Isaac's GPS to the town about forty-seven miles to the south. It was a much smaller town, with an open market and only one general store. A small church with opened windows and white drapes blowing through was on the main road, as was most of the public buildings. An bar that was long narrow inside room on four sides, with doors leading out to a courtyard in the center, had a few people milling around in and outside. It had a pergola with ivy clinging to it, threading through the work, over it, and it had tables inside and outside, in a sort of haphazard order around what Derek assumed must've been a dance floor. Paper lanterns and fairy lights hung down from the pergola and were strung along the roof of the building. Other buildings were much in the same way, lanterns and white fairy lights, children running, two dogs laying down in the sunshine. It was nice. Derek could see why Cora was drawn to it. It reminded him of simpler times.

He parked the muscle car, Isaac clearing the GPS, as he got out of the car. Derek followed suit. They parked out of the way of the main road, next to the corner on the side road, right next to the bar, though small club would probably be more appropriate. Or just a place to gather. Isaac was texting someone, but Derek could see the subtle shift of his feet. The place was calm, but they weren't going to let down their guard in a new place. Isaac pushed his phone into his back pocket after locking it, before ambling up to the bar. Derek followed. Isaac had been here before, though it was, by Derek's assumptions, a few years ago. Still he was going to follow Isaac on this one. The younger wolf had earned Derek's respect, and he trusted him. They slipped through one stretch of indoors and out into the sun speckled courtyard. The stones were old, some were cracked. Flowers grew off the ivy, and there was a cross on a pillar. The entire bar, he realized, was opened into the courtyard. The indoors was covered by sturdy ceiling, and awnings hung out, only a foot or so, from the opened spaces between the outdoors and the indoors. The rest was opened to the air. Shutters hung on the pillars next to the windows, for lack of a better word, and Derek saw that they could be closed and latched. Probably for bad storms.

A few cats lay in the spots of sunshine in the courtyard, their tails flicking in contentment, though one cast an ugly glare in their direction. Isaac slid up to the bar, which catered, Derek saw, to both the inside and the outside. There were two serving, a young man who looked like he could've been fifteen with dark eyes and darker hair, and tan skin. His skin was peppered with freckles, most of them too light to be seen, and he had tattoos up and down his arms. He wore ragged long jean shorts, and a green Henley tank top with the pattern of palm trees on it. The other was a burly looking male with a beard, who was shorter than Derek by about a head, which made it laughable compared to Isaac who must've have grown a few inches during his travels. But his arms were rippled with muscles. He wore frayed khaki shorts and a loose white v-neck with the sleeves rolled up to his sleeves. Tattoos covered his tanned arms, and he surveyed them with dark eyes matching the boy next to him, who was now fiddling with a glass as Isaac just ordered as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

But Derek smelled it. The boy was human but the man was a wolf. An omega by the smell of it, but he wasn't sure. There was..something there, like the beginning of a bond between other wolves. He wondered if one of them was Cora. Isaac smiled at the man as the boy gave him the drink. Derek realized that it was a straight rum. Derek numbly ordered a beer for himself, just requesting that it wasn't a lite beer, as he sat down next to Isaac. It was the man that served him, eyeing him with distrust but not hostility as he looked at Isaac. "So, you're not dead." The man said in a deep, gruff voice. Derek couldn't place the accent, but he didn't worry about it (though it sounded a bit French which was only a little bit confusing).

"Net yet." Isaac said simply. Always simply, always easily, always to the point. Derek enjoyed that about Isaac. While Stiles could ramble for hours about one thing, trying to get every little thing of it out in the open, Isaac just had a way with words. He just said them with such a simple air that always seemed to answer all of his questions and put to rest any more that could pop up. He only had to say a few words and it seemed like all of the information was right there, for the taking. Stiles could explain things for hours, but Isaac only needed a minute. Isaac took a sip of his rum, and it startled Derek. He wasn't much of a drinker at home. There was really no point unless you liked the drink, because they couldn't get drunk. Derek truly did like the taste of most beer, and this one was no different. He wondered if Isaac genuinely enjoyed the taste of rum. He made it a point to remember to ask him later. "This is Amílcar d'Cruz, Derek. Amílcar, this is Derek Hale," Isaac introduced them, pronouncing the man's name flawlessly (at least it seemed flawless to Derek who was just really terrible at pronouncing things in English), before very pointedly glancing to the boy who was serving a soda to an elderly woman with a long braid.

"Abel," the man, Amílcar, grunted and the boy swung around quickly, glancing between the three wolves. "His mother was bitten. They came here, hearing of safety. We've been getting a lot of were jags around here." The man gruffed on. It seemed like he didn't speak with his lips, or moving his jaw. He just sort of grunted out the words with that peculiar accent. Derek realized that it must've been a Portuguese accent. Isaac didn't say anything, just took another sip of his drink. There was a silence for a few beats before Amílcar seemed to give into whatever silent stand off that they were having. Derek was just intrigued to watch. This was a side of Isaac that Derek didn't see very often. Dealing with someone outside the pack, dealing with a wolf outside the pack. "You're just like Kaya," he growled, shaking his head. Isaac only frowned, shaking his head in return as if that would be impossible. "She'll be by in a few minutes." Derek narrowed his eyes, but that seemed like a good answer for Isaac because he started to order them food and himself a soda.

They took their food and Isaac's drinks to a table outside the bar, facing the road, and the church. It was such a small community. Derek liked it. It was a calm place. They ate in silence, a radio playing music with lyrics in what Derek assumed was Portuguese, and wind rattled the shutters and blew white curtains in the windows of many of the buildings. Two children ran past with a mutt puppy yapping along side them. It was nice, peaceful. Derek still didn't let down his guard, and he could tell Isaac didn't either. But the pup was leaned back in the wrought iron back chair, looking peaceful in his faded blue jeans (faded from wear; Isaac only bought clothes from thrift stores) and an old cream colored, nearly thread bare Henley shirt of Peter's that the old wolf gave him. The sleeves were rolled up, and Derek noticed, not for the first time, three small tattoos on the inside of his wrist of his right hand. They were so small, the first few times Derek noticed them he thought they were moles or freckles that he hadn't noticed before. They were not. They were small black circles, and on the inside were uninked marks of skin in the shape of letters. He had three. B E A in a triangle form with A on the top. It still hurt to look at.

Isaac lifted his right hand, running his finger through his hair with a breath of a sigh before mixing his rum into his coke and stirring it with a straw. Derek watched him for a moment, leaned back as well, ankle crossed over his knee as he ate the grapes that came with his meal. "You like rum?" He asked. Isaac blinked at him as he sucked through the straw, baby blues wide with the new question, but they flattened out to give him an amused look.

"It gives me good memories." He replied after licking his lips. Derek stared. Once again, so simple, giving him all the answers he needed, and wanted to know, without having to ask. Once again, Derek compared Isaac to Stiles. Stiles would've spent forty five minutes explain the pros and cons to alcohol alone before embarking on explaining the taste or how it was made. Isaac just explain, not in so many words, that, no, he didn't like it. But he drank it when there was good times, and the taste brought back those memories. Being so far from home and pack, Derek didn't blame him from taking a sip of memories. Or maybe he was adding to the memories. The day was beautiful, with full, fluffy clouds, and the sounds of the music, the rain forest surrounding the village, giving some measure of shade and freedom at the same time. Derek secretly hoped that was the case. "Kaya?" He asked as he ate his sandwich. Isaac shrugged.

"Local alpha. Real piece of work," Isaac said lightly with a slight smile. "She's serious and snarky and always on top of things. It's like she knows your secrets." He said without much conviction behind it. It wasn't a dangerous alpha in the sense that she wasn't going to rip out the throats of her betas. That comforted Derek a bit, but he was curious as to why Isaac didn't want to be compared to her. It's like Isaac knew what he was thinking, directly proving that he could be compared to this alpha if what he said was true about her knowing secrets. "I'm just not an alpha." He said softly, biting into his own sandwich. Derek studied him for a moment.

"If things were different, you could've been." Isaac stared at him, chewing slowly as he digested what Derek just said. There wasn't much time to discuss what Derek meant though (though he did mean it; if Isaac hadn't been abused, if Isaac had been born a wolf, if Isaac wasn't so broken at such a young age, Derek truly believe that he could've been an alpha). A voice sounded from behind Derek.

"Derek? Isaac?" Isaac sat up, popping a piece of a papaya into his mouth with that smile-smirk. Derek didn't take too long to turn around quickly, smiling when he saw her. Cora's hair was longer, and cascading down over her shoulders and down her back. She wore short jean shorts and a white camisole under a tan, threadbare shirt that billowed around her torso and limbs, and worn flip flops were on her feet. She was smiling as she brushed her hair from her face and she came forward as they stood. She hugged Derek first, arms around his neck, reaching up on her toes to do so. She nuzzled into his neck, scenting him. It was a wolf thing. He smiled a bit, squeezing her fondly, lifting her in the hug. He had missed her. She was his only family left, besides Peter, and she was his sister. She belonged at home, with him, with the pack. His wolf whined for her presence quite often. It had increased when Peter started the building of the pack home.

They parted and she wrinkled her nose at him, patting his scruffy cheek. "Beard burn," she huffed before flicking his nose. He protested but she moved on, hugging Isaac. There was no point in trying to get up on her toes for him. He was almost five inches taller than Derek, and she barely came up to her brother's nose. Regardless, their hug seemed...intimate. Derek felt wrong for watching as she wrapped her arms around his torso, reaching up to put one hand over his shoulder, the other on the back of his neck, her head resting on his chest. He pulled her in close, arms wrapping around her protectively, leaning his head down, inhaling the scent of her hair. Derek knew then that their 'sort of happened' thing sort of happened more than once. But then the hug was over as quick as it started. Cora and Isaac, straight to the point, no dallying, no waiting. She pulled up another chair from a nearby table as they sat down and stole some of Isaac's food. He growled, but it was playful and Derek hoped, desperately, that she'd agreed to come home.

The conversation was slow and easy. It was catching up. Derek told her about a things that had happened. He didn't mention Allison, or Kate, but he told her how everyone is growing up, how everyone is settling in well into their lives. Isaac caught her up on where he's been. It's the most Derek's heard him say about his travels at once, but it's all things he's heard before. They ordered drinks and more food, and spent the rest of the late morning and early afternoon just talking and being together and it was nice. "It's been..hard here," she said as the conversation lulled again, folding a napkin without looking at it. She glanced around the village. "A lot of were jags attacking wolves," she said lightly. "A kanima attack, but it was dealt with. There's a starting of a pack here," she said softly, eyes flickering between the two men. "But some want to leave."

"Do you?" Isaac asked, finishing off their soda. Yes, their. Derek didn't comment when they ordered a large coke together to save their pocket change. She fished out an ice cube, sucking on it. She wasn't stalling, he could tell. Isaac was gathering up the used napkins and putting them on the plates, waiting for her answer. It was simply weird that they melded so well together. When Cora was in Beacon Hills, she didn't talk much with the others, maybe speaking the most with Stiles, of course. But now they seemed to flow together. There was no pushing, or shoving, or pulling for reactions, for words. Derek prompted often with looks, Stiles always demanded answers, Scott would ask politely, but there was always a prompt for answers from Isaac and from Cora. With them together, it was just like there was no push or pull, just simply being. He wondered how refreshing that was.

Finally Cora turned back to them, cracking the ice under her teeth. Isaac looked back with a small, lazy smile, as if this was just a regular meet up, as if they didn't drive all the way down to South America for her. They stared for a moment before she offered her own smile, glancing between the men.

"Yes."

They never really asked her to come home. They helped her take in the plates (she worked there for something to do) and hung out with her as she worked. Isaac leaning against the bar, making witty one-liners and she replied in a dry tone that was both hurtful and surprisingly cute and sincere. A teasing fondness. When the sun was dipping and the twilight was starting, she led them to her small bungalow in the trees. They drove with ease, in silence, tense under the fall of night, but the shadows didn't pose a threat as she led them into her small home. It was a one bedroom, living room melding into kitchen, wrap around porch of beauty under the shade of trees, on a hill over looking the dirt road. They made dinner, the three of them, laughing when Isaac and Derek started a mock flour fight that ended with Cora hitting them over the head, gently, with a wooden spoon. They sat on the porch, Isaac's long legs stretched out in front of him. Plates on laps, an abundance of anti-bug candles lit and sitting on every flat surface. Cora turned on some speakers and plugged in her iPod. The hum of acoustic guitars and harmonicas with lyrics about young love and beaches, summer days and winter nights, falling apart and mending together, flowed through the night air.

Derek and Isaac slept in the living room, Isaac giving Derek the couch. In the morning, it was foggy and misty, a light dribble of rain hitting the tin roof above, water rushing off the ends and cascading down to the ground like a makeshift waterfall. The smells of breakfast wafted through the air. He dragged himself off the surprisingly soft couch, standing in board shorts and nothing else as he made his plate. He kept quiet, listening to their soft murmurs from the side porch that over looked the road. They spoke between bites, about the rain, about Paris, about tattoos. Derek learned that Isaac had a few others when she mentioned them, and he learned that Cora had a few he didn't know about when Isaac mentioned them. He smiled a bit, biting into a piece of sausage.

Isaac ran down to the general store for some boxes from the owner, the old woman with a braid he said later when he returned with a rosy cheek (from being pinched) that was fading fast and a nibbling on a piece of paçoca, a sort of peanut-y sweet that she gave him along with folded up boxes and a few crates and some bags she didn't need. He had been gone for over an hour, and Derek was ready to run down to see if he was ok when he stepped into the house, hair wet, his light blue shirt plastered to his chest and his shorts soaked. He had offered to help her hang a sign outside that she had fixed in return for the paçoca. Derek only rolled his eyes, barely catching that Cora did the same. They spent the day with the windows wide open, letting in the scents of the rain and the forest, of the galinhada that Cora was cooking, slow and easy. Isaac had no problem pronouncing the words that she flung out, his tongue rolling and flattening and moving around the words with a grace Derek had no idea Isaac possessed. Meanwhile, Derek stumbled over them like a true tourist.

They helped her pack up things. Derek left them to pack when he went down to the general store to use her phone, as Cora didn't have a phone in the house and the signals on their phones were, to put it simply, terrible. He called Scott, like they had been every day, to check up on the pack and check in. Sabina, the kind woman with the braid, gave him a platter of paçoca and a pinch, and, if he was going to be honest, an ogle to his butt. He returned home just in time for dinner, and they ate with giggles and laughter that just felt right, like it was pack. They chowed down on paçoca for dessert, playing never have I ever with fingers instead of shots (because they couldn't get drunk anyways), and they all fell asleep bundled on blankets and pillows in the living room.

They woke in the early morning, putting the needed bags and boxes into the camaro, leaving a space for someone to sit in the back, and had breakfast. A mist settled over the world, and everything seemed blue and heavy and muggy. The humidity had set in from the rain before, and Derek was glad they were going to be in the air conditioning of the camaro for most of the day. Cora and Isaac went around, Cora giving her goodbyes to the other wolves of the community. Derek locked up the house after covering everything with sheets. Cora was giving the extra key to Abel and his mother, if they wanted the place. He closed up the windows and drew the curtains, and left. It felt weird, like he was closing a book and reaching for another one, eager for the story to continue. He drove back to the bar, and waited, getting a few sodas to go from the general store, and some snacks. They were wolves, after all, and always hungry. He saw Isaac outside the church, watching something on the open window still before Cora came out and they came across the road to the camaro. Cora crawled into the back because of Isaac's long legs, but Derek knew that Isaac would eventually slide back there to give her shotgun. He was too nice like that.

If Cora was surprised when she found a few of the knives, she didn't show it. She just looked at Isaac before putting them back where she found them. When they neared the Mexico/American Border, Isaac removed the Bowie knife from his hip and Cora slipped it into one of the boxes, wrapping it in a plastic bag and putting it at the bottom of the box of assorted things that she wanted to keep. Of course they were pulled to the side to search the boxes, and when they questioned the knife, Isaac explained that it was his. They questioned a few other things, but they didn't find the knives Isaac hid throughout the car, which made this entire search annoying because it wasn't like they were hidden well, just out of sight. They called Scott when they were on American soil. They drove across Arizona, Isaac and Cora taking turns in the backseat, and when they stopped for the day just inside the California line, Isaac crawled out of the back and stretched his legs with a groan. And when they got a motel room, and Cora left the bed she and Derek were sharing to go lay next to Isaac, well Derek ignored it.

They had breakfast in an old diner, and headed to Beacon Hills. They arrived just after noon, and unloaded the camaro and took everything up at once. With their combined werewolf strength, it was easy. Isaac called Scott as Cora and Derek started to make lunch. Isaac ended up inviting the pack over for lunch, which was for the best. It would give them a chance to reintroduce Cora to the pack, and to the new members. Lunch was unassuming with jokes and conversation and laughs. Scott accepted Cora into the fold and it felt good. There was still scars here, on Isaac, on Cora, on Derek, on Stiles, on everyone, but the pack helped. It eased the pain, it eased the way. That afternoon they went to the lake on the preserve that was open to the public and spent the rest of the late spring day swimming and sparring.

And if Derek heard Cora and Isaac whispering late into the night that night, he ignored it.

They had been gone for just over two weeks, and it was clear that the pack had missed them desperately. Isaac, Scott, and Stiles huddled on the couches in the loft, doing homework (Isaac catching up with surprising speed, though maybe Derek isn't that surprised), constantly finding excuses to touch until it ended with a puppy pile as they quizzed each other with flashcards.Cora became fast friends with Kira and Malia, though it was a little bizarre to see his sister with his niece, like it didn't seem that they were related. They sat together, talking over the most trivial things, relishing in their diverse skills. As a fox, Kira was fast, and with her sword, she was deadly. Malia was also fast, but more agile, especially if they shifted. Her small size, compared to the other wolves, gave her a huge advantage. And Cora rounded them off with strength. The spars suddenly got more interesting, and they dominated the boys in three on three. That was until Isaac entered the fray, and put the girls down. Not without a few scratches, but when it came time to face off against Stiles and Scott, Isaac still wasn't that bothered by the injuries dealt to him.

So training increased. Isaac often just helped instead of actively participated, even when Kira begged. He just shrugged and continued to help with pointers or tips. Cora found that she also disliked using outside weapons, and Derek wondered if that was a born-wolf thing or not.

The house was being built beautifully. Everyone constantly checked on it, eager to see it's progress. Derek wondered what the builders thought of that, a bunch of kids in their early twenties with two older men, one nearly thirty, the other nearing forty, building a house for them all to live in. But if they had their questions, they didn't voice them in the pack's presence. Scott checked up on the house the most, besides Peter, but Isaac could also be found in the house as it was being built. Either exploring the barren rooms, where only the skeletons of walls existed, dust floating in the rays of light. Derek caught him a few times reading or texting, doing homework. Once he caught Isaac crying, but it felt wrong to startle him, so Derek just slipped back down the stairs to observe the men as they built the garage.

One bleary morning, Derek and Peter pulled up to the house. The supervisor for the project was waiting for them, and they reviewed the third floor plans. While they were upstairs, which was still open to the elements, Derek wandered the second floor, into each of the rooms before finally going into what was going to be Peter's room at the end of the hall and found Cora and Isaac sleeping in sleeping bags against the wall. They weren't close, and they were in their own separate sleeping bags. A battery powered lantern was between them, still on, as were several empty bags of chips and cookies, and three empty liters of soda (Derek rolled his eyes as how insanely unhealthy it was). Also between them were several library books dedicated to scary stories and their fingers were still lightly intertwined. They both slept on their sides, facing each other, one book opened in front of Isaac. Derek could picture them reading scary stories to each other until they fell asleep, holding hands, and it made his heart clench.

He didn't know why he was happy or why he was angry. He was also sad, but in a sort of bitter-happy way. That this life, this chance at young love, was ripped from him by Kate and it made him sad. But it also was almost ripped from Cora, and here was evidence to the contrary. Derek kicked their legs through the sleeping bags. They both woke easily, all at once. Neither could sleep well, and Derek wondered why they chose to read scary stories to each other. He raised an eyebrow at them (the Stiles named 'yes you're caught, what the hell?') and they slid out of the sleeping bag with shrugs and sheepish smiles. Isaac gathered up the sleeping bags, rolling them up and Cora gathered up the trash and the books, and Derek let them go down stairs, following them as Cora threw the trash away in the dumpster for building supplies, and they climbed into the back of the camaro like little kids in trouble. Derek made sure that the sleeping bags were between them, even though they were both in their twenties and adults. It was far too sweet and cute and innocent not to keep up the facade of their teenager youth. Derek think they enjoyed the play as well, because they sulked like teenagers, hiding half smiles and rolling their eyes.

Breakfast at the Stilinskis' later that morning caused Scott to tilt his head towards Cora and Isaac when he caught their mingling scent but he glanced away with a smile-smirk. Malia was hardly more tactful. "Fun night?" She asked with a drawl and a smile, reaching for a biscuit from her spot next to Stiles. There was a shrug from both Isaac and Cora. "Not really." Cora answered. "Could've been better," Isaac said at the same time. They exchanged a look that Derek couldn't decipher, before turning back to their meals and the teases. Stiles made everyone sit through a mock 'The Talk' that had everyone groaning and laughing, except for Peter who glowered, eyes flickering between Stiles and Malia. It seems when you spend your teenage years fighting the supernatural, you're allowed to be immature and childish when it concerned love interests in your twenties. Derek was grateful for that rule. It let the kids be kids.

Peter took members of the pack, two at a time, to furniture stores with Lydia during the summer. Lydia still loathed Peter with a fiery passion and refused to be alone with him at any time, but she was very much on board this pack house idea, and demanded to be there for all the choices in furnishing the house. The house wouldn't be complete for a while, but she wasn't going to be here when it happened, so she had govern and approve the choices during the summer before hand. The only reason Peter separated everyone into different trips was that it was going to be impossible to discern the choices with the entire pack there. It was a nightmare to be avoided. Derek went with Kira, and most of his choices were approved. Lydia had this thing about mix matched matching. She wanted everything to be different, but flow together. The way she melded everyone's tastes was marvelous and Derek was impressed. Isaac went with Stiles, Cora went by herself to pick out things with Lydia for their rooms. Derek wanted to know what was behind the look that Lydia gained after both of their visits, but she never answered his looks except with the patented 'I know something you'll know soon enough' look. That was his least favorite look of hers.

Isaac got a job over the summer. A steady one as a lifeguard at the lake. He worked freelance stuff during school, mowing lawns, painting houses, dog sitting, baby sitting. Whatever was needed by their neighbors, Melissa's neighbors, the Sheriff's neighbors, whoever's neighbors really. Isaac was often greeted in the supermarkets with pats to his cheek and thank yous and how are yous and it was all overly domestic. Derek was getting more used to that. Near the end of summer, everyone started to pack their things. The house was looking more and more like a house. Derek never again caught Cora and Isaac at the house, but there was evidence of their presence in the night before. Empty chip bags in the dumpster, a cleaner floor in their designated rooms than the other rooms; an unlocked window or an open door that was usually closed. They didn't bother to hide the fact that they were having sleepovers in the unfinished house, but they never wanted to be caught doing it. No matter how early he got there, they were always gone. He almost caught them once, hearing their laughter as they left through the garage as he followed their sounds through the house. But he never saw them. In the end, he gave up.

Peter took the pack, in twos again, with Lydia, to the home improvement store to pick out floorings and paint colors. Derek was chosen to go with Isaac (they drew names from a hat, a Stiles solution to the whining of who went with who last time so who was going to go with who this time). Isaac took quite a long time to decide on a floor for his room while Lydia flitted around as Derek described what he wanted. She pushed three samples at him twenty minutes later, standing next to a frazzled store assistant who didn't know how to deal with the force that was Lydia Martin, before leaving the three of them to go check on Isaac. Derek noticed that Isaac had been agonizing over three pieces of wood flooring. Choices that Lydia had not picked out, but Derek just knew that Lydia would approve of them. He could picture all three in the public areas around the house, even though he didn't know what Isaac's room was going to look like (Lydia had decided to swear them all to an oath of secrecy because she wanted some surprise to be left over when the house was all done; so the only ones who knew what all the rooms would look like was Peter and Lydia). Derek chose the sample he liked the most, the only wood flooring sample she allowed him, a dark red-brown mahogany coloring, and waited with Peter as his uncle wrote down the floor Derek picked out. He heard their soft whispers, but didn't pry too hard.

Finally Lydia came over with two samples with a following Isaac, who had his hands in the old, worn leather jacket that was almost too small for him that Derek gave him those many years ago. One of the samples was going into the sunroom, a casual room that was going to be just off the house, angled walls, more circle than square, with bay windows and window seats and a domed ceiling that had skylights. It was a pale wood, not nearly white, but it seemed creamy and smooth, even with the darker growth rings and knots. The second was darker, almost as dark as what Derek chose, though a bit more neutral than red. It was cool and yet inviting. That was going to be in his room, it seemed, and Derek was a little confused. He was sure that Isaac would've chosen opposite, but perhaps there was another factor.

It took twice as long to decide on paint. Lydia didn't allow Isaac to see the color palette she had set up from Derek's choices on furnishing his room. White, it seems, was not an option. "Honey, white is going to be in other rooms. Bedrooms should not be white. Bedrooms need to reflect yourself." Lydia said with a look that dared him to contradict. So Derek caved and decided on a pale blue-grey. They looked at it under different lights, and found that it was a changing color, ranging from deeper teal to a lighter green-blue. Derek enjoyed it, and when Lydia held it up against the palettes she created, she deemed it good enough, even as she pulled out a journal of her own, comparing the color to other palettes that only Peter was allowed to see. Peter wrote down the color name in his journal, which was fast becoming off limits to anyone but Lydia. Then Lydia made Derek go retrieve Isaac from the hot dog stand outside the store. He sent Isaac inside with a whispered color name into his ear. Isaac grinned at the break in rules, giving him a wink that promised that he would tell what he chose as well, and Derek settled down with a soda.

About forty-five minutes later, the three of them collected Derek, and while a loud pick up truck passed them, Isaac leaned close, mouthing the color of his paint into Derek's ear before pulling back, graceful as a cat as he slid into the back of the camaro. Usually he sat up front, because of his long legs, changing it up only on road trips when it got stifling in the back for others. But he didn't let Peter slide in next to Lydia. The redhead leaned over, kissing Isaac's cheek in thanks. He did the same thing when they went to lunch, as was now tradition on these little 'deciding for house' trips, sitting next to her in the booth, across from Peter. Derek wondered, vaguely, if Isaac knew how caring he was being, and how tactful he was being. He didn't push Peter down, didn't isolate him from the conversation, he just made sure that they were separated, diagonal, at all times. It was a very Alpha like trait. Scott did the same thing, slipping in between them at dinner tables or when they stood to the side lines for spars, subtle and quick.

Danny and Lydia left for their last year at their colleges with kisses and hugs and promises to call and text, and rounds of 'see you at Thanksgiving's. Isaac drove Lydia to the airport with Stiles and Cora. It was an god-awful early flight, so the four of them didn't even bother sleeping that night. Instead they had a not-sleeping sleepover at the loft. Derek stayed up with them most of the night, with coco and games of snakes and ladders and cards against humanity which had them rolling in laughter, except for maybe the more stoic members of the group (read: Derek and Cora), but they laughed regardless. Especially at Isaac's clever answers. Around two they gathered up their things, Lydia making one last check through her things to make sure she packed everything she needed. Derek promise to send anything she may have forgotten and they exchanged hugs. Lydia got automatic shotgun since she was leaving (a Kira enacted rule from years ago that everyone just obeyed), and Isaac drove.

Only three returned, and though Derek expected it, it still made his wolf whine. The three looked tired, and maybe even still a little teary eyed, even through it must've been an hour and a half drive back from the airport. Stiles crashed at the loft, too tired to drive back to his shared apartment with Scott, convinced that Kira was there anyways and that was just a little awkward. Isaac let Stiles have his bed. Derek didn't physically see Isaac go into Cora's room, but he didn't miss that later, at lunch with bleary eyes and yawns, Stiles', Cora's, and Isaac's hair were all wet from a shower, when Derek only heard two showers that day. Something told him that Isaac and Stiles didn't share a shower, and neither did Cora and Stiles.

The fall brought a new semester, and Isaac kept his job until the first freeze of the year, before the public community office pulled back the lifeguards until spring rolled around. He didn't mind, going back to work whatever odd jobs he could find. Derek's hours increased, but he didn't mind so much. He liked his work, and the money was good. One of his customers talked of this old junker they wanted to get rid of, an old, not running 1988 Mitsubishi Starion. Derek decided to buy it off of him, and spent his free hours fixing it outside the loft. Isaac helped him, though his knowledge on mechanics was lacking. Until three weeks later when Isaac demonstrated his newly found knowledge. When Cora asked when he learned about car mechanics, he quoted Ironman from the Avengers. "Last night." He said seriously, earning a high five from Stiles. She rolled her eyes, but Derek knew that Isaac must've spent the last few weeks in the library, learning all he could about it. Of course there were gaps in his knowledge, and knowledge and practical application was vastly different, but he learned fast and Derek loved those afternoons.

The house was very nearly done. It was expected to be finished in mid-September. Peter started to arrange time tables for people to move in and furnish their rooms. He spent the next three weeks buying all of the furnishings, the pack members chucking in their savings to pay for their portion. However, this time, the trips to pick up the furnishings and put it all together would be one on one with Peter, except Melissa was entrusted by Lydia to govern everything. She was even armed with the journal, something that truly frightened Derek. Melissa McCall was a force to be reckoned with, and there was no doubt why Lydia chose her to be in her stead. The time tables were drawn up, and Derek was third on the list. Peter had school now, but the entire pack followed his and Lydia's guidelines in putting the first floor together when the house was deemed finished, with no one going upstairs.

Isaac and Derek worked in the sunroom one overcast Tuesday shortly after the painters had gone through the house. The bay windows were opened wide to air out the house of the heavy scent of paint and sawdust as they pushed sofas in place and put tables down. They hung curtains, and paintings that the pack members have done (one of Isaacs hung in the foyer despite his embarrassment about it and protests that it wasn't good enough to hang there; the word of Lydia was law, after all). Isaac was particularly giddy this day, and Derek found out why. He and Lydia found an nice record player one afternoon while having a nice platonic date in downtown while she was home. They bought it on a whim, and it was only later that Lydia compared it to her palettes, according to Isaac. She was ecstatic when it matched the creamy walls of the sunroom, and dictated that he would keep this secret. They plugged in the record player as Stiles finished hooking up the speakers around the house. That had been Kira's and Danny's many requests of the house, speakers for music. They spent long nights over skype making up different playlists, taking in account of everyone's music tastes. It was very movie like, and a bit of a cliche to Derek, but when Stiles saw the record player, he eagerly placed the main stereo system in the sunroom (risking the wrath of Lydia as he did so because it was dictated to go into the family room on the other side of the house) and connected the record player to the stereo for an option. The rest of the day was spent playing what records Lydia had left in Isaac's care, as well as Isaac's records as they worked.

Everyone's rooms were furnished with the new furniture by the time Thanksgiving rolled around. People slept at the McCalls' or the Stilinskis' those last few days before the big move in day. The loft's lease ended only two weeks before the big move in, and Derek, Isaac, and Cora stayed with Melissa those last days. Scott and Stiles bunked at the Sheriff's, Kira and Scott shared a room when she and Malia left their apartment. Malia stayed with her father, though she could be caught sleeping over at the other places. Danny came home first. Malia, Cora, and Kira went to get him from the airport. Peter took him back the house, letting him see the public places and his own room. Lydia came home the next day, and Melissa, Scott, and Derek went to get her. Derek wasn't sure why they did things in groups, particularly in threes since it really didn't make a lot of sense for three people to go pick up one person, but they did it that way anyways. Lydia was allowed to see the product of her work, Melissa taking her instead of Peter. She seemed insanely pleased with it, eyes bright.

They had Thanksgiving at the McCalls' this year, last year having been at the Loft, and the year before was at the Stilinskis'. No one could stop gushing about the fact that Christmas would be at the Pack's house. Lydia had, in fact, made adjustments to the blueprints months before to make it very easy for them to put up a sizable tree and have it work well with the rest of the living room. She made many adjustments for the holidays in fact.

Thanksgiving was always a very packed gathering, and rowdy, and a day long ordeal. Derek loved it. He, Peter, and Isaac put up the long table in the backyard. Derek started with one of the grills, the Sheriff taking the other one. Derek watched from the back patio as Isaac helped the girls set the table after casting the tablecloth over it. Mismatched plates and cups littered the table, and Cora lit some candles she brought with her from South America, placing them on the rails of the patio and table. Stiles and Scott swept the trampoline of the leaves and dead bugs and feathers, and were jumping around like crazy children. Isaac joined them a few minutes later and it was just so overly domestic. Derek was falling more and more in love with it.

He grilled what was given to him by Melissa, noting with a wry smirk that he was considered one of the adults of the group. He looked out at his pups, his heart clenching when he realized three were missing. Erica and Boyd should've been here. Allison should've been here. His eyes found Isaac after glancing to check on his food. Peter and Isaac were now tussling on the trampoline to the cheers and jeers of their packmates. It seemed it was much harder to spar and wrestle on the bouncing surface. He was only one left of the three Derek had turned. His first and his last. Derek wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, gritting his teeth against the tears. This was a time to be thankful, and he was thankful for his pack.

Isaac won the wrestle, though it took some time, more than usual.

They rolled off the trampoline and Peter walked up onto the patio, accepting the glass of sweet tea Melissa offered. "Getting less spry in your old age," Derek teased. Peter rolled his eyes. "'The pup got lucky', I know, I know," Derek said for him, earning a chuckle from his uncle as he settled into a patio chair at a mottled glass table. He rested his glass on a coaster, shrugging.

"He'd be able to hand you your ass, too." Was his response as he got tests out to grade. Derek's eyes flicked up to the pups, Isaac being tackled by Stiles and the girls, Scott taking video as Isaac struggled to stay upright, walking towards Scott with a grin on his face, before he brought down by Danny joining in the fray. The group collapsed into giggles and laughs, rolling and snuggling together before Scott piled on top of them, earning a growling groan from Isaac who was beneath everyone. Derek didn't have to do the math to know that Isaac had been holding up more than six hundred pounds of dead weight before Danny tackled the swaying group. No, there was no doubt, Isaac was the strongest in the group so far. But Scott was quickly catching up. After seeing how good Isaac had become in his years away, Scott strove for it. Though, between work and school and being an alpha, he wasn't awarded a lot of times to work out and build his muscle mass, but he was well on his way. So far Scott was the only one that could down Isaac in a spar. Derek was proud of his alpha, and his pup. Both had grown from the awkward, confused boys that Derek met.

After about twenty minutes of puppy cuddles, the group decided to play cards against humanity, and clambered off the second, and Derek startled himself thinking that. It wasn't really a conscious choice to call Isaac the second. The second in charge, the one the alpha relied on to protect the weaker ones, the one that was left in charge if the alpha had to leave, though most enough, the one the alpha sent to negotiate or meet other packs and peaceful creatures. "Peter," Derek started as he started to put kebabs onto a plate, vegetarian and non-vegetarian, "how is the second chosen?" Peter looked thoughtfully at his nephew, removing his attention from the history tests he was grading.

"The pack chooses." Peter replied before going back to the test he was grading, marking the paper with a 79 as Derek passed the plate to Melissa, who covered it with tinfoil and added it to the table. Derek sat across from his uncle after getting a beer from a cooler on the patio, opening it with a level gaze at him. Peter caught the look and sighed, looking like he was struggling for the words. "It's never a conscious decision. It's not decided by a vote. Our wolves instinctively lean towards one wolf who is the second in command. Proper terms in wolf packs label him as--"

"A beta!" Stiles crowed as he walked up onto the patio to rummage for a beer himself. Derek frowned, about to tell him no, but remembered that he was old enough for it. It startled Derek how much these kids have grown. The freckled boy sat at the table, ignoring Peter's unimpressed look of disdain. "Why are we talking about Isaac?" Derek's brows furrowed, eyes flickering to Peter, who looked back at Derek with a mirrored expression. Stiles glanced between the two, frowning as he opened the bottle with a bottle opener. "Right? We're talking about the Second, and that's Isaac," he said slowly. Derek glanced to the group on the trampoline, playing cards against humanity, laughing and talking with ease. Scott seemed to be listening however, glancing over every now and then. Isaac, too, seemed to be in tuned, but he seemed bashful, like he didn't expect the honor. And perhaps that's what made him such a good Second. He didn't expect it, he was just doing what was natural.

"Yeah," Derek said as he sipped his drink. Stiles beamed, before getting up and joining the group on the trampoline again, nudging Isaac's shoulder as he did. Isaac nudged back, but he was looking at Cora who looked a bit smug and a bit proud, and a bit...Derek couldn't describe it. He was distracted however, from Melissa asking if he could run down and get some more napkins because she completely forgot to yesterday. He smiled and agreed, taking one more swig of his drink before going to grab his jacket and going for the errand. He got about seven calls on his way and during the shopping to get eleven more things as the pups got wind that he had gone out. In the end, he was asked to bring back vanilla frosting, yoohoo (in the glass bottles he heard Lydia hiss to Stiles during the phone call), jumbo marshmallows (three bags), Hersey's chocolate bars (about twenty of them), graham crackers (five boxes), coals, a tent (he groaned pointedly when Kira asked and she only giggled), any fireworks he could find (they were small ones), three more pumpkin pies, a volley ball net, and sticky notes. He got all of that, as well as kerosene, a long handled lighter, and matches.

Derek helped Isaac set up the volley ball net as Stiles and Scott took over one of the grills with devilish grins. Soon s'mores were being made, and giggled over. Derek watched as Isaac carefully made a s'more and offered it to Cora. She whispered something to him, but Derek couldn't hear as Stiles cheered when he got a point for volley ball until Lydia told him it was out of bounds. Isaac and Scott then drew lines of bounds, Isaac eating his s'more that he made for Cora, and watching her carefully. Afterwards, Isaac made another s'more, just as careful as before, but Derek noticed that he made it different, with graham cracker dust on the marshmallow, which was sandwiched by two chocolate pieces and it was more of a topping on a graham cracker instead of smushed between two. He offered it to Cora again, and her eyes lit up a bit and she took it, offering a small smile to him. He smiled back before Stiles dragged him into the volleyball games.

Teams were Team Alpha and Team Devil Dogs. Team Alpha was made up of Scott (Derek thought they were very clever with their name), Kira, Danny, and Cora. Team Devil Dogs (chosen by Stiles, and Derek enjoyed the name) was made up of Isaac, Stiles, Malia, and Lydia. It ended up being a tie of 9-9 before Melissa called for dinner. Scott sat at the head of the table with a grin, Kira on his right, Isaac on his left. Next to Isaac was Stiles, then Malia, then Lydia, and finally Derek. On the other side of the table, next to Kira was Danny, Peter, the Sheriff, and Cora. Melissa sat at the end of the table. And now it was the gooey, cliche sweet moment that Derek loved about every Thanksgiving, a tradition enacted by Scott and Melissa.

Scott said what he was thankful for. His pack, his best friend, his mother (Melissa muttered a 'damn right' that had everyone laughing) and the peace that allowed them to grow together. After Scott it went down the table around the right and around until it ended with whoever was sitting on Scott's left. Kira flushed a little, and Derek thinks fondly of how she's always a little bashful about this. She was thankful for the pack, for her education, for her cute leggings (Lydia winked at her), and for Scott. They held hands on the table and Stiles scoffed over dramatically even as Malia pinched him.

Danny was thankful for lacrosse (laughter went around the table), the pack, Melissa's cooking ("You kiss ass!" Cora teased), and being apart of the pack because he wasn't sure how his life would be without them. There was some awhs, mostly from Stiles. Peter drawled about money, his car, his wolf, then his eyes softened a bit when he said the pack, and everyone knew the implication. Scott had every right to throw Peter out for what he's done. Lydia wholeheartedly agreed with that course of action, but Scott didn't. Peter was alive, as most omegas don't survive long, because Scott deemed him redeemable.

John was thankful for his son, for this new, albeit bizarre, family and pack, for Scott (the implication was being there for Stiles but no one commented on it except for dramatic awhs from the girls as Scott beamed like a puppy), and for the pack house because he was over the werewolf trashed living room after pack night. Everyone shared guilty looks and chuckles. Cora glanced around, eyes softening as she looked up the table at Isaac before looking across at Derek, a small smile breaking out on her face. "I'm thankful for this pack...It reminds me of our family, before the fire, and it's a good reminder, they're good memories. I'm thankful for Brazil and rum..." Derek quickly glanced up the table to Isaac. He thought he saw a smirk but he wasn't sure. "And my family," Cora continued, looking at Peter and Derek, before finally landing on Malia. "And I'm thankful for all of this." She murmured, eyes scanning the people at the table. "For all of you." John patted her shoulder, and Melissa stroked Cora's hand with a smile.

Melissa was thankful that the boys have learned to take their wrestling outside of her very breakable house (more laughter as Isaac and Scott shared a guilty grin), of Stiles (more awhs), and she shared her sentiments for the pack house for the same reason as the Sheriff. She was thankful for her job, and she was thankful for the peace of the season, and for her own cooking skills. Derek paused, thinking as he searched his plate for answers before looking up, crossing his arms and resting them on the table, ignoring Stiles' squawks of no elbows on the table until Isaac nudged him to shut up. "I'm thankful for my Alpha," Derek said, not knowing how far he would be gone if Scott hadn't been in his life, how far his uncle would be gone. "I'm thankful for that stupid little kid with ADHD that doesn't have a filter," everyone laughed, pointing and nudging Stiles as he puffed up his chest as if he was proud of the label. "I'm thankful for my family," he looked to Cora, Peter, and Malia, "and Isaac, for being someone I want to be like." He said, looking at Isaac who stared back with soft blue eyes. "For being strong enough to persevere." He didn't add on that he was thankful that Isaac was still alive, that he hadn't died like Erica and Boyd. Somehow, there was no need to say it. "And this stupid, annoying pack," Derek snarked, breaking the moment with jeers and laughing from the rest of the pack.

Lydia was thankful for Prada, her dog and the fashion line, she was thankful for the Mean Girls movie (everyone grinned a bit), and this new family where she could be herself, though she pointedly avoided looking at Peter when she glanced around at the pack when she said this, and she rounded off her thanks for her friends and for the new record player that she and Isaac found. He grinned down the table at her and she smiled back, wide and genuine. Malia was thankful for the pack, for her family, for this food, for being rescued and brought into the good family and pack. She smiled at Stiles and Scott when she finished; they grinned back, shrugging like it was no big deal.

This was the most painful part, Derek knew, but also the best part, because it showed the tightness of their pack, the importance of their bonds and love. Stiles cleared his throat, shifting a bit, looking around the table with a sigh. "I'm thankful for my brother--" Scott and Stiles fist-bumped across Isaac, who rolled his eyes,"--for my dad, for Melissa. I'm thankful for Deaton, Jesus Christ guys, he's saved our asses quite a lot, give the man credit," everyone laughed, nodding their agreement. Deaton never had Thanksgiving with them, though they always offered. Derek thought because Deaton was still grieving the Hale pack. He didn't blame him, to be honest. "I'm thankful for Lydia, intelligent in all ways, and Malia...thank you." Lydia smiled, shrugging as if it was a given (it was), and Malia smiled as well, a bit more shy.

"I'm thankful for Sourwolf, okay, you grump, I mentioned you, you happy?" Derek rolled his eyes. "I'm thankful for Kira and that nifty little sword of yours," he grinned, winking at her. She grinned and winked back. "I'm thankful for...silver," he paused, and everyone looked down at their plates, or up at the sky. It was more than anything they could say. Thankful for Allison, thankful for her life, for her passion, for her love. "And I'm thankful for Isaac." Stiles always ended each of his thankfuls at every Thanksgiving with Isaac's name. It took Derek a while to guess why, but he thought it was because Isaac caught the spirit of the nogitsune in the box. He contained that evil. Derek had also caught Stiles talking to Isaac on the phone or through text or Skype during Isaac's travels, and afterwards. The pack could probably owe Stiles' more genuine happiness (not the fake 'I'm fine' that Stiles was for a while) to Isaac. Stiles clapped Isaac on the shoulder, and Isaac returned the favor before glancing around.

"Guess it's my turn, hm?" He asked and there were a chorus of yeses and mhms, and Isaac chuckled, thinking for a moment. "I'm thankful for this pack, I really am...I'm thankful for Chris, and passports, and airplanes." He sighed a little, not glancing away as he scanned the faces of the table. "I'm thankful for new moons, and I'm thankful for full ones. I'm thankful for storms and candles and rum, and I'm thankful for the pack house. I'm thankful for Scott, my true Alpha," he grinned, clapping Scott on his shoulder. "I'm..I'm thankful for tattoos, and I'm thankful for road trips, and I'm thankful for records." He paused, glancing around before looking down the table at Derek, mirroring his crossed arms on the table. "And I'm thankful for my first Alpha, and the Bite he gave me." Derek nodded, swallowing. Isaac always said thank you for it, every Thanksgiving, but Derek never got used to it. He had done so many things wrong, and he wondered how Isaac could stand him. But the Bite gave him his ticket to a life, as Isaac said once, and it was the single greatest thing someone did for him thus far. He had told Derek that in private, and Derek had to hug the pup so he wouldn't see the tears. "And I'm thankful for the Sheriff for not arresting me the many times he could've, and I'm thankful for Melissa and her great cooking skills." He finished and the pack cheered, and eagerly started to dig in.

The meal passed as it always does, with lots of bickering and banter and conversations. Laughter and sneers and teases were passed around just as often as the dishes were for the food. Every now and then someone would announce when they were finishing off a dish, much to the groans of the rest of the pack and chuckles of Melissa. Whoever did it first was named the Turkey for the rest of the meal. Derek wasn't sure why, but Danny started it, and it sort of just took without anyone meaning for it. It started off as a tease, but now it was a badge of honor. Scott crowed in joy, and Derek looked up to see Isaac dumping the rest of the mashed potatoes on his plate with a smug look on his face. "We've got a Turkey!" Scott cheered, and Stiles mimicked a gobbling noise...Oh, that was why they were called the turkey. They were gobblers. Derek looked at Cora, who was confused, but Melissa was quickly explaining it. Cora looked a bit done with the pack, but she seemed amused, shaking her head as she ate, going back to the conversation with Lydia about planning for Christmas. Derek turned back to his conversation with Melissa about Washington state of all things to talk about.

The meal ended slowly, everyone finishing off the main meal with groans of "how am I going to fit dessert?" from the humans, to which the droopy eyes of the wolves would perk up and become bright again at the promise of dessert. They were insatiable, really. Derek yawned as he stood and helped Melissa, Isaac, and Danny gather up the big serving dishes as everyone else started getting the plates and cups. Peter and Kira had gone ahead and filled the metal basin that Stiles "misappropriated" from Deaton's office every year with hot, soapy water. Whoever could fit around the basin helped wash the dishes. Scott and Stiles dried the dishes and Isaac and Cora trailed in and out of the house, putting them away except for the forks, before bringing out paper plates (in the shape of animal faces because Stiles is secretly a five-year old) and the pies for dessert. This was more buffet style, everyone for themselves as they got what pies they wanted. Stiles and Danny took a break from eating to put up the tent Derek bought under the oak tree before they returned and got their slices of pie.

There were soft conversations, the winding down of people after eating so much food and turkey. However, Stiles was awake enough to make a crown out of plastic forks he found in the kitchen, and put a turkey sticker on the front and crowned Isaac. There were soft giggles and chuckles, even as Isaac shook his head, making it lopsided before Cora marked his nose with some cool whip. He grinned and did the same in return. Derek felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment, but he couldn't take his eyes off them as they wiped their noses, licking their fingers without taking their eyes off of each other. Finally Derek turned away and got two more slices of pumpkin pie, eating them with no haste. Stiles, Lydia, and Danny had dragged another tent out of the house and set that up as well. Scott, Malia, and Kira gathered up all the pillows and blankets they could in the house and stuffed both tents full of them.

Without much else to do, the kids (young adults, Derek mind supplies, even though they're camping outside in the background like children) crawl into the tents. Scott, Kira, Stiles, and Malia in one, Danny, Lydia, Isaac, and Cora in the other. The cards against humanity is split up between the two, and lanterns are lit inside. The adults, Derek numbly realizing he's firmly in that category, gather up the remains of the pies (there was about one and a half left out of nine) and threw the plates away. Derek helped John wash the forks and put them away before dragging himself into the living room. Peter has taken the couch, passed out, so Derek went upstairs, noticing that John went into the guest bedroom. Melissa passed him in the hall, giving him a kind smile before going into her room. Derek went into Scott's old bedroom, falling on the bed and curling up, glancing at the clock. Eight o'clock. He groaned, but pulled the covers over himself and fell asleep.

Derek woke up to Danny shaking him awake, telling him breakfast was almost ready. Derek, nodded, with a yawn into the pillow as Danny left. He dragged his body from the comfortable bed and got his overnight bag from by the foot of the stairs and went into the hall bathroom to take a shower. He left with a towel over his head, giving the bathroom over to Stiles and he went into the packed kitchen. He nodded to the chorus of good morning's as Cora handed him a plate of food. He ate gratefully. The rest of the morning was spent in the background, wrestling and playing after putting the tablecloth in the washer for Melissa and folding the table back up and putting it back into the garage. Lunch came around and Peter appeared with ten boxes of pizza with everyone's favorites and five liters of root beer and sprite.

Everyone ate quickly. Which was saying something for this pack. Scott and Isaac raced to finish their shared pizza, grinning as they did. The girls watched with shaking heads, and the humans ate their needed two or three pieces (in Stiles' case, five). Derek knew why. Today was the day, everyone was allowed to show off their rooms. Derek shifted a bit, finishing off his seventh slice before deciding against another, and sipping his sprite. In record time, everyone claimed they were done with lunch. And so it was a convoy to the Pack house.

It looked like an old Victorian mansion, with a wrap around porch and pillars; curved almost tower looking parts, the exterior all grey stone with dark grey shingles and white railings and pillars. It was built under trees, and there were no fences up yet, but Derek could see where the front and side yard could be, and what could be added. The garage was a four car garage, with ample space outside as well. They all parked, jumping and giddy. Derek parked the Camaro, being one of the last ones to be there, just inside the driveway. Cora, Isaac, and Danny piled out of the muscle car, grinning widely. Lydia had gotten there first with Scott and Kira in her car. Peter was second, it seems, and Lydia was waiting for them with daggers in her eyes. They trotted up the pathway to the stairs, gathering with the rest of the pack as Lydia explain what they were going to be doing.

She offered a white top hat to Scott, and he reached in and took out a piece of paper. "Stiles," Scott told her. She nodded a bit, taking the piece of paper and putting it in her dress pocket, smiling.

"Whoever is drawn, they get to show us their room. Everything is expertly designed, and it's all gorgeous, I promise. Stiles?" She asked, and he grinned, hopping up the stairs and leading the way up the stairs that spiraled up the center of the house. Stiles bedroom was on the second floor, to the right, and all the way down the hall to the left. His room was very cozy. It was hard wood floors, with rugs and a queen sized bed. It was painted dark green, like his childhood bedroom, and there was a fancy desk. He had a balcony with french doors opening out. It was sizable and comfortable.

And so the tour started. Scott was next with the biggest room in the house and the added luxury of a master bath with a huge tub and separate shower, it was across from the stairs on the third floor. It was light and cozy and just warm with rugs and heavy curtains and warm lights and posters on the wall and remnants of his lacrosse career in high school. Kira was next to his, and it was a lilac with floral accents, and her collection of swords were on the wall and she had a silvery day bed. There were hints of her heritage around the room, with protective runes and symbols, and plants, and paintings.

Cora was across the hall from Kira, and her bedroom was much like her house in South America. It was a chestnut wood flooring and pale tan color; sort of curtains hung from the ceiling, like unreachable hammocks, with lights over them, casting the room in an ambient light. She had a simple bed, and a desk, but most of the room was dedicated to relaxing and working out. She had a yoga mat on one side, and a comfortable looking floral couch on the other side. She also had a window seat with bay windows that opened to show a chest that she already starting storing her weights in.

Derek's bedroom was back on the second floor, right across from the stairs. It was comfortable and almost rugged, like the loft was, but cool and calming with the color palette that Lydia approved. Blues and reds. His bed was iron wrought with cream sheets and a dark blue comforter; there were some bookshelves, and wide paneled windows with shutters. He had a view of the back, where the patio was built and the gazebo, and the rest of the forest. He had a bathroom connected to his room, which was shared with Peter, who was drawn next.

Peter's bedroom was simple and clean. Not quite modern, as it had an air of cluttered organization. His walls were lined with bookcases, and his bed was a king sized monstrosity of pure comfort, it seemed. He chose a pale tan carpet, and the walls were painted a tad darker than that, though you could hardly see it with all the bookcases, filled to the brim with books. His windows were the same as Derek's, and he had the same view, though he was at the end of the hall and also had a view of the side yard.

Malia's bedroom was down the hall from Derek's and Peter's, on the opposite side of the hallway, across from Stiles'. It was all pale pink and yellow, with seashell decor and beaded curtains and a sandy colored wooden floor. Her bed looked like it was made of pale bamboo, and she had fluffy white beanbag chairs. She had a window seat as well, and her own bathroom that was also connected to the hallway. She had a few small bookcases, and several different art pieces hung on the walls.

Danny's was across from Peter's, and very simple. It had bright blue walls, like the clear waters of the Caribbean. He had a four poster bed with white curtains that Stiles fist bumped him for, and a balcony just like Stiles. The floors were gorgeous white carpet, and the trim was white; he had a stereo hooked up, and a comfortable reader's corner with a modern looking lamp that looked like white abstract flowers blooming. It was adorable.

Lydia's room was bright and comfortable, on the third floor, on the same side as Cora's, and had a window seat just the same. It was purples and blues and pinks, with cream furniture and brown accents on them; her queen size bed was bronze, and she had a vanity and a wardrobe for her tastes, and a desk. There was a set up in one corner for reading, and in the other corner was a doggy castle and bed for Prada, who was snoozing there already.

And finally, though there was no point, Scott drew the last piece of paper. "Isaac." Everyone grinned as Lydia opened the door across from hers...which opened to stairs. Confusion bubbled through the pack as Stiles made a Harry Potter joke, and Isaac scoffed. "Harry Potter lived under the stairs, idiot," he said fondly as he led the pack up the stairs to the towered attic room. It turns out Peter had put good use to that couple grand that Isaac offered. The over seven grand was put to adding an entire new floor for Isaac, though it was more like a tower, and the room was perfectly square. The walls were the dark wood flooring that Derek saw Isaac pick out, and the actual floors were a creamy white carpet with other, more interesting rugs laying over it. The ceiling was domed with the same wood flooring that made up the walls, though it was stained to be slightly darker, and to their left was the edge of the house; that wall was made up of a chalk-board like substance that was already drawn on, a portrait of a wolf. At the far end of the attic room was doors leading to the balcony he had requested that spanned the entire edge of the steeple-like part of the house. His bed was pushed against a window, and each of the four walls had two-pane windows with beige paper-like blinds. There was an old styled iron wrought ceiling fan with lights, and a leather couch on the other side of the bed, and several dark chests that were darker than the wall that were around the room, serving as a scattered wardrobe and table surfaces; two were on either side of his bed. The french doors to the balcony had the same type of blinds as the windows, and the balcony over looked the back of the house.

The bedroom was spacious and cozy and warm.

"Holy shit, I want a refund," Stiles whined playfully, looking out of the balcony with a smile. Isaac rolled his eyes, putting his hands into his pockets as Stiles went out onto the balcony briefly before coming back in. "Wow, we're like really high up," he said as he closed the doors quickly.

"Would you say that we're four stories up?" Cora drawled, sarcastic, finger tips running over the stills of the windows were various things were set up, most notably a makeshift bookshelf with wolf head book stoppers for comic books and graphic novels. Stiles cast her a glare.

"Isaac, did you draw this?" Kira asked, looking at the wolf with wide, awed eyes, finger tips tracing the outside of the chalk. Isaac smiled a bit, nodding. After everyone gave their comments, as they did with everyone else's room, the pack dispersed. Derek lingered in Isaac's room as he toed off his boots, flopping onto his bed with a sigh and a smile. Derek glanced around the attic room with a smile. It was good, it was comfortable, and most of all, it was open. Even the staircase up to the room was wide and comfortable, with windows and paintings and well placed lights.

"Are you happy?" Derek asked finally, looking at Isaac. Isaac was his first and his last. Isaac was grown and still growing. And Derek still worried about him, and he knew it was going to be a very long time before that ceased to be. Isaac paused, looking at the ceiling.

"If you asked me that a few months ago, I would've said I was contented," he said, sitting up to look at Derek with his soft baby blues, a smile on his face. "I'm very happy, Der," he said fondly as Scott called for a pack meeting from the living room. Derek nodded with a smile, clapping him on the shoulder, before they descended the staircases to the family room where everyone was gathering for the pack meeting, Lydia carrying a bowl of strawberries and Stiles pouring everyone a glass of lemonade. Isaac was about to take an armchair to the back before pausing, glancing around at the pack. Derek and Peter watched with interested gazes as Isaac settled next to Scott, on his right, in his rightful place as the second. Derek smiled. So his pups were still growing, forging their way through the world. Their pack was still young and vulnerable, but it was growing stronger with their bonds. The Pack House put them several steps in forward in fact. And as Isaac found his place in the pack, the others seemed to adjust and shift around the room. Kira settled next to Scott instead of with the girls. Stiles sat in the armchair to the right of Isaac. Derek, and Peter, could see the makings of a powerful pack, and it felt good and safe.

And Derek could definitely get used to the domestic feel.