Chapter Text
Use Your Words
“Oh my god! You’re here. In a grocery store. Shopping,” Stiles cackled with glee.
Derek was instantly annoyed, “I do eat you know.”
“Yeah, but I always assumed you just hunted down Thumper or whatever,” Stiles waved a hand.
Derek rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure that Scott and Stiles would never see him as an actual person. With feelings.
He just turned to walk away.
“Ugh. You know it wouldn’t kill you to behave like a normal human once in a while. Instead of this whole brooding, sourwolf schtick. It’s called a conversation? We were having one,” Stiles called after him.
Derek ignored him.
“So, Sourwolf. I’ve thought a lot about what’s gone wrong since this whole supernatural mess started and I think the biggest reason why everything was a million times worse than it needed to be is… communication. You suck at it. We’re all kind of bad but you’re definitely the worst. I have a plan though!” Stiles flails dramatically, “I’m going to teach you how to use your words!”
Derek just looks at Stiles’ bruised face and wonders when that happened, “Or maybe you can start with exactly when you and Scott concocted your plan to join my pack while working with Gerard Argent to betray me.”
Stiles’ scent flares with hurt and betrayal, which is interesting.
“That whole thing is what I’m talking about. Scott didn’t tell me. Gerard threatened to hurt his mom if he didn’t cooperate and he didn’t tell me. I had no idea. Gerard is the one who kidnapped me and did all of this,” Stiles gestures to his face, “as a message for Scott.”
“Is Scott getting this talk too?” Derek wonders, since both Stiles and Scott have a habit of blaming Derek for, well, pretty much anything and everything.
“Yes,” Stiles lies.
Derek just raises a brow.
“Okay, fine. He’ll get the talk as soon as I’m not pissed at him anymore. But we need to start with you. Because we could’ve avoided that situation if you hadn’t run around biting random teens and threatening to kill Lydia! You make it really hard to trust you, dude. You don’t explain anything, like, ever. Communicating via growls and your oddly expressive eyebrows isn’t enough. You need to use your words, big guy.”
Derek nods. This is pretty much what he expected.
If there was one thing Derek could say about Stiles, beyond his loyalty, was that he was persistent.
He started making it a habit to come into the depot to ramble at Derek for hours.
It was annoying, at first, but he came to enjoy the rhythm of Stiles’ speech.
“Dude, I don’t understand how you think you can be anyone’s alpha when you’re such a hot mess,” Stiles said as he entered the train depot.
The betas had fled from Derek’s anger and grief.
They told him it smelled like ash.
It was a bad day. Okay, a worse day, since pretty much all of his days were bad. It was his mom’s birthday and he was swamped with memories.
They were all the sharper because she’d been his alpha. And she’d been a great alpha.
He very much was not. He was pretty sure she’d be so very disappointed in him. And that hurt. A lot.
He wanted to follow her example but their circumstances were so different.
She’d been the alpha of a strong, family pack. Her betas were all relatives already inclined to listen because of their family ties.
He had a few betas he’d picked in the hope they’d desperately want pack as much as he did. He’d also picked teens. Which after dealing with Stiles and Scott, he should’ve realized that they’d be difficult.
His mom also hadn’t had to try and build her pack from nothing while essentially living in a war zone. He had threats from two sides and no allies. At best he’d had two people who usually didn’t want him dead and would sometimes help but most often worked against him.
That’s it.
“Derek? Are you just wallowing in misery? Is this what the big, bad alpha is doing when this town is going to shit?” Stiles still hadn’t left.
He heaved himself up and walked into a spot of light, “Not today, Stiles.”
“Look. I get that you’re the alpha or whatever, but you seriously need to get your shit together. You can’t spend all your time brooding over your man-pain,” Stiles said.
Derek growled.
“Derek, for fuck’s sake, why can’t you use your words?” Stiles shouted.
One of the things Derek hated about Stiles was that he knew how to hurt people with the truth.
Derek did need to get his shit together.
He’d try again.
Tomorrow.
“Sooo… if I’m human and can’t do the whole butt-sniffing thing, is there a Growl-to-English dictionary?” Stiles asked.
Derek appreciated the question. It gave him hope that Stiles was genuine in his desire for better communication.
Derek didn’t appreciate the dog jokes, “I’m not going to help you if you keep making dog jokes.”
“Dude, my dog jokes are hilarious,” Stiles said with a cheeky grin.
“They really aren’t. Could you stop?” Derek asked. Pretty evenly too, in his opinion.
“It’s part of our banter! Good-natured teasing is, like, a huge part of human communication, big guy. So, speak!”
Derek sighed. He knew better than to expect anything, but still he tried.
It was probably his biggest fault: trying when he knew he’d get nothing but shit.
He couldn’t help it with Stiles. He’d already written off most of humanity, but Stiles made it hard. Because, despite his faults, he cared. And when he cared, he was loyal.
He was also bright and lively. Derek could admit that he was a pretty dour guy. Stiles brought some much-needed life and sunshine to his life. But never for the reasons he thought.
Stiles thought that teasing and banter helped lighten Derek’s mood. When it was really his scent and passion and the flashes of true caring.
Derek got that he wasn’t supposed to take Stiles’ teasing about his grumpiness or brooding personally. That Stiles or his pack weren’t doing it maliciously.
That teasing was something humans did when they were close.
It still hurt his feelings.
Not that any of them seemed to think he even had feelings to hurt.
Derek reaches a breaking point on Laura’s birthday.
“Hey, sourwolf! I have the research you, well I was going to say ‘asked for’ but it was really more of a growled command.”
“Get out, Stiles. Not today.”
“Oh my, god! Why are you such an asshole all the time? You’re the one who asked for this research. And I did it! But apparently, you wanted it at a specific time? Why didn’t you say so?” Stiles is flailing his arms in exasperation.
“Stiles. I’ll get it tomorrow.”
“Oh, so I’m just supposed to make myself available whenever it’s convenient for you?”
“No. It not…” Derek stopped. Trying to find the right words.
He’s about to speak when, “It’s not what, Derek? Use your words!”
And here. Now. Is the moment that Derek is absolutely done.
Stiles is one of the hardest people for him to talk to because he talks so fast and is so impatient. He always interrupts Derek and is the worst about listening. It frustrates Derek because he, especially lately, listens to Stiles. Has been around him enough that he can just roll with Stiles’ communication idiosyncracies.
But it never goes both ways.
So he just turns and walks out of the depot.
“Hey, sourwolf! Where are you going? You can’t just leave in the middle of a discussion…” Stiles is saying as Derek gets into his car and leaves.
It takes Siles only a few days to track him down for another confrontation. Derek had sent him a text to thank him for the research. And not replied to any of the texts Stiles sent.
“Derek! You can’t avoid me forever.”
Normally, at this point, Derek would try to defend himself. Instead he says nothing and waits.
“Okay. You know, I didn’t think it was possible for you to talk less. But anyway. Stop asking me for research if you’re going to be such an asshole about it. Because it’s seriously uncool to expect me to drop everything to do research and then be an asshole when I try to give it to you.”
Derek nods, turning and leaving.
“Ugh! You’re so frustrating!” Stiles shouts after him.
What almost no one seems to realize is that Derek isn’t actually stupid. He knows how to research. Stiles is faster and more efficient. And, well, Derek liked being around him.
Usually.
He especially liked the warm, pleased scent Stiles always had when Derek asked him for help.
But Stiles didn’t want him asking anymore, so Derek was doing his own research.
Of course, this was Stiles. Nothing could be that simple.
It came up at a pack meeting. Derek hadn’t bothered to invite Scott since he still insisted he wasn’t part of Derek’s pack. He also hadn’t invited Stiles since he’d done the research himself. He figures it was Isaac who told Scott who told Stiles.
He was telling his betas about how to kill the creature of the week when Stiles banged in shouting about how he knew how to kill the creature. He went quiet when he realized Derek already knew.
They went off to kill it. Derek didn’t bother telling Stiles to stay behind because:
- Stiles never listens.
- Stiles wasn’t in his pack and, therefore, not his responsibility.
- Derek was done trying.
They fought and won. And after checking to make sure his betas were fine, he got in his car and drove off.
He was unsurprised that Stiles followed him.
“Why didn’t you ask for my help researching? Or did you already know? Because I talked to Scott and that thing has been in the woods for a few weeks. And I know you knew about it. You realize it took me, like, a day to figure it out? Two people died and we could’ve prevented it.”
Derek knew. He felt like shit that he wasn’t better. But he’d done his best.
“Well? Derek? Hello? Are you even listening?”
Derek just looked at him, waiting for this to be done. He knows better than to try. The moment he figures out what to say, Stiles will rush in with another torrent of words while berating him for his lack of social skills.
“Holy shit! I really didn’t think you could find a way to be more frustrating. Fine. Whatever.”
Stiles stomped off.
The next confrontation happened after Stiles heard about a fight no one had even told him about. Not for research or that it was even happening.
“Are you cutting me out of the pack? Why are you cutting me out? Did I do something wrong?” Stiles demanded.
Derek didn’t want to bother… but it was a lot harder to ignore the scent of Stiles being hurt, rather than his usual anger or frustration.
“Are you…” Derek started, trying to figure out how to ask Stiles if he was in Derek’s pack. He’d never said. Never called Derek his alpha. Still always took Scott’s side and Scott was, by his own words, not in Derek’s pack.
“Am I what? Seriously, sourwolf, use your words!” And Stiles was starting to smell frustrated.
Use your words.
Fuck. Derek hated being told that. Stiles’ scent shifting from hurt to frustration made it easy to remember why this whole ‘conversation’ was futile.
By the time the whole mess with the alpha pack started, he hadn’t spoken to Stiles or Scott in a while.
Both were furious he hadn’t told them about the alpha pack.
Stiles had stopped coming around, since Derek’s ‘rejection’ (which had really been him standing hurt, stunned, and silent until Stiles’ scent turned sour with humiliation and he stomped away).
Derek didn’t really care. He was too busy trying to survive.
Of course, it was all another giant clusterfuck. And, of course, he got blamed for it.
He cared even less since he had Cora back.
Derek didn’t care about giving up his alpha spark to save Cora. Worth it. It was a relief to not be the one responsible anymore. Scott would probably be a better alpha.
His betas, two who’d abandoned him once, were only too happy to have a new alpha.
It wasn’t easy being an omega but he had Cora so they should both be fine. He didn’t bother asking Scott if he could be in his pack. Scott had already rejected him and Derek didn’t think anything had changed. Cora wouldn’t join Scott’s pack without him and that was that.
Derek couldn’t entirely blame Scott for his dislike. Derek’s shitty human social skills had made it easy for Scott to hate when they’d first met.
But Derek was tired of being the bad guy when all he tried to do was help.
It was especially exhausting now that he had Cora. Now that he had someone who could understand him without words. Who cared enough to read his chemosignals and respond. Having her back was such a relief.
It meant that he had even less tolerance for dealing with Stiles, who had started seeking him out again. Derek wanted to deal with him even less after Stiles’ hurtful words when his dad had been taken by the Darach.
Another situation where he’s the villain; not another victim.
He was done.
Derek decided his place needed to be more secure. He owned the loft, the building, and the land around it. It was time it stopped being so easy for people to access him. He got a serious door and new locks for the building’s entrance. He and Cora had the only keys. He went a step further and put a fence around the property. None of this would keep out determined enemies but hopefully he’d get enough warning to either prepare or flee.
He wasn’t surprised, at all, that Stiles was the first person to encounter the new security. He answered the intercom to an irate, “What the fuck, sourwolf? What’s with all the security? Let me up.”
“No. What do you want, Stiles?”
“Seriously? You’re going to make me stand in the street? Ugh, you’re the worst. I wanted to apologize for what I said in the hospital. It was really shitty of me to throw your relationships in your face.”
Derek hadn’t expected this. Getting an actual apology was kind of amazing, “Thank you, Stiles.”
“Okay, now can I come up?”
Derek buzzed him in. Moments later Derek was opening the door as Stiles climbed the last set of stairs.
“Is the elevator out of order?” He asked as he huffed.
“No reason I should make it easier for people to get here.”
This time it was his little brother’s birthday that made him snap. Stiles still didn’t have direct access to his loft because it was Derek’s territory and he wasn’t pack. Instead when Stiles wanted to annoy Derek, he’d show up and buzz the intercom until Derek let him up.
Not today, though. He’d been texting since the morning and Derek had been steadfastly ignoring each and every one. Hadn’t even read them. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t care. If there was some sort of emergency happening, it wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t the alpha and he knew where Cora was. He had no pack, so it wasn’t his responsibility.
Then the buzzing at the intercom started. Derek sighed because he knew it was Stiles. Stiles was the only one who visited.
“What.”
“Dude! There’s a thing in the woods and we could use your help. I know you’ve been ignoring my texts but we need you, man.”
“Is anyone actually dying?”
“Well, no, we’re trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“Not today. I’ll help tomorrow.”
“Um… what could you possibly be doing? You have a day full of brooding on your man-pain scheduled or something?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god! That’s what you do every day! This is actually important.”
Derek sighs. He knows better than to expect understanding. He just flips the intercom to silent.
Derek, in a rare good mood, had let Stiles up into the loft. They were researching and it was fairly peaceful.
“Stiles. I’m sorry about the other day. It was my little brother’s birthday,” Derek said.
“Did you just apologize? With words? Looks like old dogs really can learn new tricks,” Stiles said with a grin.
And Derek’s good mood died a swift and sudden death. He’d been trying and this is what he gets for it?
“Could you stop with the dog jokes?”
“Never! You need to lighten up. Stop brooding so much over your man-pain,” Stiles had that teasing half-grin.
“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cora shouted.
Stiles startled because he hadn’t noticed her, “Wha–”
“Derek apologizes for being rude because it was our dead brother’s birthday and you make a shitty, insulting joke about it? Then you belittle our loss by teasing Derek about his ‘man-pain’? I don’t understand why Derek even gives you the time of day, given how much of a monumental asshole you are,” Cora is growling with glowing eyes, “How many times has Derek asked you to stop making dog jokes?”
“Uh, what? Lots?” Stiles said when he realized that Cora wanted an actual answer.
“Do you know what the hunters were calling us when I was fleeing? Dogs. Animals. They were making dog jokes and laughing about it. You’re always telling Derek to ‘use his words’ but you never listen when he does use his goddamn words? I totally get why Derek wants to wash his hands of this shitty town, if you’re the best of McCall’s garbage pack.”
And this? Is why Derek’s been so happy to have Cora back. It feels amazing to finally have someone on his side. Someone who’ll defend him.
It feels like he has a real pack again.
He and Cora were leaving. They had nothing to tie them to Beacon Hills.
Derek considered just leaving. Without saying anything to anyone.
But…
His foolish, hopeful heart couldn’t leave without saying something to Stiles.
He didn’t want to leave things as they were with him. With all the misunderstandings.
Regardless of the small and large ways that Stiles had hurt him, he’d also tried. He’d saved Derek when he didn’t need to.
He was the first person in a very long time to try and reach Derek.
Derek knew he was also at fault for their misunderstandings.
He was the one, after all, who’d given up trying to ‘use his words’.
Seeing Stiles in person, though, would only result in more misunderstandings and hurt.
So he leaves a letter.
Stiles,
I’m leaving with Cora. It’s not a good idea for omegas to stay in a hostile alpha’s territory.
I’m also tired. Tired of being blamed for things that aren’t my fault.
Just… weary and exhausted.
We’ve had a rocky relationship. But you tried. It’s been a long time since anyone cared enough to bother.
I appreciate it.
Did you know I used to be in the ‘special’ class in school? Because I talked slowly and it took me a while to answer questions, if I talked at all.
They also told me to ‘use my words’.
I came to enjoy listening to you.
It was always hardest to try and talk with you. You talk so fast and never wait long enough for me to answer. Then you’d start smelling of frustration and anger.
It was just easier not to try.
I’m a born wolf. I grew up in a pack. Maybe you never turned your considerable mind towards this seemingly innocuous fact but it matters. Words are almost unnecessary when you have chemosignals, body language, and non-verbal vocalizations.
You’ve asked me why I’m such a failure of a human being. Why I can’t communicate like a normal person.
I’m not human. I have never been human.
Human social skills are something I had to learn. They don’t come naturally. If I don’t practice often, they get rusty.
It’s part of why I was so bad when we first met. I interacted with you like you were a wolf, not a human.
I’m sorry for how I treated you back then. It wasn’t malicious and not out of bounds between wolves. But you aren’t a wolf and I know that it isn’t good behaviour by human standards.
My only defence is that I was grieving over the loss of my alpha and sister.
Maybe you think that one more death is only a drop in my ocean of grief. I don’t know.
All I’ve tried to do since returning is help. By all measures, I failed.
I tried my best.
Somehow, though, I always ended up being the villain.
You don’t really know me. You tried, I can see that, but there wasn’t time and I had no idea how to recover from our bad start.
How to bridge the gap between wolf and human. How to communicate in a way you understood.
Maybe I’m not great with words. But I did communicate with growls, body language, and scent.
Should I blame you for not being able to scent my chemosignals? Or interpret my growls?
I appreciate the things you’ve done for me. The times when you helped, even when you didn’t like me. For holding me up in the pool for two hours. I know what I said then and while I don’t trust you with my feelings, I do trust you to have my back.
Take care,
Derek