Archive of Our Own ^beta

Looking back Stiles isn’t quite sure how it happened, fair enough running around under the full moon for hours on end is enough to tire anyone out but how in the hell he got roped into puppy piling with the entire pack he’ll never know.

Lydia snores like a pig and if seeing her all loved up with Jackson wasn’t enough to stomp all over his crush listening to her shake the foundations of the entire house would have been the match to the funeral pyre that held his feelings.

With Jackson still running cold from the whole Kanima thing it’s was like sleeping with a fucking corpse, that coupled with the fact that he slept rigid on his back made for an interesting 3am trip to the toilet the first time they’d gone all polyamorous. Erica teased him mercilessly for about five minutes until he smacked her upside the head with a slightly damp pillow, she clammed up quick enough swiping the back of her hand across her mouth before scowling at him and burying her face into the crook of Boyd’s arm.

Scott sleeps like a toddler break dancing round the bed all elbows and sharp toes with Alison trailing after him even in her sleep.

Isaac, dear sweet Isaac spent the first few nights curled into a ball at the bottom of the bed taking up as little space as humanly possible for a gangly sixteen year old, as if even unconscious he feared for his safety. It kind of broke Stiles’ heart a little bit if he was being honest with himself.

Derek ever the Alpha started every evening by stealing all of the pillows and sprawling out like he owned the place, which in hindsight made a sorta sense since they were all in his bed, during the night however he would shift, curling onto his side reaching out for the nearest warm body which almost always happened to be Stiles. Except for the one time it wasn’t and they’d all woken up to the awkwardness that was Derek spooning Jackson, after the effects of the Kanimas cold bloodedness had worn off and he started pumping out heat like a fucking radiator along with the rest of the pack.

Stiles, Erica and Lydia all sat in a neat little row at the bottom of the bed cooing like a bunch of pigeons, taking numerous photos from multiple angles, Stiles’ didn’t know about the girls but his were being stored on a hard drive somewhere for future blackmailing opportunities.

It’s hardly what you’d call a conventional set up but it works for them and practically every night they pile onto the sofa with bowls of popcorn and shitty movies until someone yawns which sets everyone else off and they migrate in quick succession to the bedroom.

Lydia gets up first, to change and remove the days makeup, Erica cajoles Boyd into carrying her into the bedroom whispering sweet nothings into his ear, which by the way isn’t exactly wise in a room full of teenagers with supernatural hearing and a tendency to snicker at the thought of the 180lbs of pure muscle that was Boyd being restrained by Erica and her feminine whiles.

Scott and Alison both stretch out on one of the now vacant sofa determined not to move until the last possible moment. Derek grumbles he isn’t tired whilst stretching and yawning and generally doing everything possible to keep himself from falling asleep then and there on the sofa.

Jackson disappears not long after Lydia, Stiles likes to pretend it’s because he needs to remove his make-up as well but he knows from the giggles that carry down from the stairs it’s because they’re sneaking in as much hands on fun as they can before joining the pack in the bedroom.

Stiles’ is thankful at least that they keep the lovey dovey crap to themselves… Watching a very naked Jackson hold a sobbing Lydia once was more than enough thank you very much, Stiles’ likes to pretend this is how every sexual encounter between the two of them ends, only it’s Jackson who’s sobbing bemoaning his lack of sexual prowess, Stiles’ sniggers to himself jostling the already sleeping Isaac who seems to have latched onto him like a baby chick ever since Alison and Scott resumed the romance of the century.

He gently moves Isaac till he’s curled into Derek’s side, feeling for all the world like a Mom passing off a small child to their Father, he walks over to the TV switching it off at the wall and dimming the lights as Scott and Alison to his surprise are already asleep, Scott’s head rests on Alison’s chest rising and falling with each gentle breath she takes, he pulls the comforter off of the back of the sofa and drapes it over the two of them.

He walks around the house turning off lights and unplugging anything electric. The fire that claimed Derek’s family may have been caused with malicious intent but since then Derek has had a certain obsessiveness with fire safety, installing numerous fire alarms and going so far as to treat the house with intumescent paint during the rebuild, Stiles’ started including switching off of all electrical items to the list of things to do on his nightly round of securing the house.

Stiles gets it he really does, after his Mom died he found himself taking on role of caregiver to his Father, making sure he ate well, making sure he didn’t take to the drink as hard as his grief wanted him to, keeping his Father there with him. It wouldn’t bring his Mother back but it brought an element of comfort knowing he could protect what family he had left.

Stiles... The pack, were Derek’s family now and it made sense he would want to keep them as safe as possible.

He walks through the kitchen into the conservatory Derek added to the house during the rebuild, a godsend during the winter months whilst the pack sparred and trained on bleak November mornings when the fog was so thick he could hardly see them from his armchair as he sat enveloped in blankets with a book to keep him company.

Wriggling the door handle until he’s satisfied it’s locked he looks up; startled he lets out a small yelp as he’s confronted with Derek’s reflection in the glass panels of the door, “Motherfucker, Jesus Christ Derek! You are aware we’re not all blessed with superhearing? Or did that escape your mind for a second there?”

Derek shrugs walking towards him, grey sweatpants treacherously low revealing those dangerously sharp hipbones and the sculpted muscles he seemed to maintain so effortlessly, even though Stiles’ was pretty sure they bought enough food last time they went shopping to feed an entire platoon, “I just like hearing you make that little noise” he mumbles wrapping his arms around Stiles’ pressing his forehead against his he sighs and it’s almost boneless in sound signalling the Alpha is more than dead on his feet.

“You're tired” Stiles asks because he can’t help himself but state the blindingly obvious.

Derek hums his reply; he’s breathing soft warm blasts across Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles’ tongue flicks out quickly as it always does as unconscious a movement as Derek’s breathing was to him, his hands are flat against the small of Derek’s back almost holding him up, he smiles to himself because it’s Derek, sourwolf extraordinaire pliant and warm in his arms asking him to come to bed…

Derek nudges his head back gently, capturing his lips with the briefest of kisses and he realises there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

They climb into the bed, Derek stealing pillows and Stiles replacing them under the heads of sleepy confused werepups as he does, with Scott and Alison still downstairs there’s thankfully enough room to manoeuvre without truly waking anyone.

Isaac lies face to face with Erica with Boyd behind her, arms wrapped firmly around the both of them, Stiles’ smiles once more to know that Derek carried the sleeping boy to bed.

Lydia and Jackson are a mess of tangled limbs and half removed make-up, but thankfully clothed.

Stiles lies on his back contented never to move from this bed again, a sleepy growl and a quick embrace of arms and legs and he amends that thought… He never wants to leave the arms this inordinately affectionate sleepy werewolf.

And whilst he still isn’t quite sure how it all came to be, he’s grateful that it did.