Chapter Text
fi·nal·ly (ˈfīnəlē)
adv.
after a long time, typically involving difficulty or delay.
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September, 2013
DEREK HALE
Over the past three years with a stable anchor, Derek Hale had grown exponentially in size, control, and personality. Gone was the skinny, introverted, unstable werewolf he once was. He was captain of the basketball team, popular, and gained twenty pounds in muscle. Not to mention how he reached six feet in height over the summer.
Now, while that was great and all, Derek was more interested in the fact that he was in total control of his wolf. All of those years of strenuous training paid off and he could even perfectly normal on full moons. This meant his mother's wish had been fulfilled and Derek would be able to finally interact with Stiles, his mate. His mate.
Derek sighed dreamily as he got ready for school. It'd been a couple of weeks since the term started and he hadn't even talked to Stiles yet. There was an entire plan that he made up, which was completely thrown the moment he saw that they shared a class. Throughout the years, they never had a class together. It was almost like fate telling him he had to wait. And that it was time.
So on the first day, when Derek had waltzed into his AP English chatting away with some of his teammates, he was blindsided by the sweet, perfect scent of his mate that thickly filled the classroom. He hadn't ever experienced it in proximity and, god, was it distracting.
Derek spent time in English class cataloging everything he could about Stiles. He too had grown a lot over the years. His hair was no longer the awkward yet cute buzzcut. It was messily styled, fringe resting on his forehead and framing his face. The boy also somehow gained some musculature while still maintaining the spindly figure from years ago.
Unlike Derek, Stiles had stayed generally low on the social totem pole. He primarily stuck with the McCall guy, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and occasionally the redhead and spent most of his free time in the library. Despite his lack in popularity, Stiles Stilinski was very well known. Infamous for being one of the loudest and obnoxious student enrolled at Beacon Hills High. Derek would here word of Harris giving him month long detentions for whatever reason, Mrs. Cal making him read every turn of popcorn-reading because his leg was shaking, or Coach Finstock making him run sprints on the lacrosse field for 'just being weird.'
While others may think it's annoying, Derek loved it. Though he might be a bit biased.
Derek finished getting ready by throwing on his bag and rushed down the stairs. In the kitchen was a flurry of family members. Laura was closest to him, eating froot loops out of a Tupperware container(?). Cora was quietly writing in her journal in the corner, as any moody thirteen year old would. Talia and Samuel were tag-teaming preparing lunches for the younger kids. Peter was walking out of the room, carrying a crying toddler like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. Derek's aunt Marlene serenely was reading at the table, sipping on a mug of coffee and ignoring the eight year old twins arguing next to her.
Rolling his eyes, Derek moved to the refrigerator and grabbed a water bottle. The cap crackled as he opened it and took a swig. Laura turned to him, mouth full of cereal. "Mornun Dur Bur" She swallowed. "Anything exciting plans for today, hm?" She looked terrifyingly smug. Derek gulped down another mouthful of water. "No..?"
"Are you sure?" His sister pulled a folded piece of lined paper from her back pocket with a gleam in her eyes. "'Operation Woo Stiles' says otherwis- OH MY GOD!" She flinched back as water sprayed on her face from Derek's spit take. "That got in my eye, Asshat!"
While she was wiping off her face, Derek all but tackled her to get the paper from her. Laura dropped her now-empty Tupperware container to the floor, dodged the attack, and ran out of the kitchen with Derek hot on her heels. "Give it, Laura!" He jumped on her back, grappling onto her neck. She shrieked, "MOM I'M BEING ATTACKED!" She was ignored.
The twenty year old lost balance and toppled over, bringing Derek down with her. He ripped the paper out of her hand and scrambled to get up. He stood just for his sister to grab his ankle and pull his leg out from under him, making him faceplant onto the hardwood flooring of the living room. He ignored the blood that dripped from his nose, guarding the folded paper with his life.
"For goodness sake! Get up, you two." Talia had followed them out of the kitchen. She turned to her brother who was on the couch with the toddler that just stopped crying. "You'd think that my two adult children would know how to act by now, but no."
Peter shook his head in mock seriousness. "Such disgraces, dear sister."
Talia rolled her eyes and looked at her children. She pointed to Laura, "You, get ready for work." She moved to point at Derek. "You, go to school. You're almost late." The siblings, cowed, get up and walk away from each other.
The school day was seemingly normal until at the end of second period, Derek's mate burst into the classroom. Derek winced. Mrs. Call was going to have a field day. Stiles looked to be thinking the exact same, a tight smile plastered onto his face as he walked further into the room. Once she saw him, the teacher stopped her lecture, sending Stiles a sharp, false smile.
"Well, isn't it Mr. Stilinski. Class," she turned to me and the other students, voice mockingly sweet and head tilted. "did the clocks reset this morning? No?" Derek clenched his jaw and his teammates were similarly annoyed. No one liked Mrs. Cal. Though, there were still chuckles filtered among the students.
Derek tuned out whatever she had said and focused on Stiles. The tang of anger flared, momentarily disturbing his perfect scent. He watched as his mate move to sit down until he'd have to turn his head to look. Stephen, a fellow basketball player, turned around in his seat, signaling the other teammates to huddle around them. The werewolf hunched over closer. "God, I'd pay insane amounts for that bitch to get sacked," Stephen joked as he shook his head. Derek chuckled, a wicked smirk. "Oh, tell me about it. I'm half tempted to frame her for murder."
"Would you really need to frame her?" The group all laughed together. They all took turns throwing more out.
Derek almost added to the bit, but there was an insanely intoxicating tilt in his mate's scent that made him dizzy. He inhaled, getting more of it. It had intensified tenfold with the additional spice of arousal. He gulped, curling his fingers on his desk. His brows furrowed.
Why the hell is Stiles horny at nine in the morning? At school. Is it someone else? Is it me?
Derek inconspicuously panned his gaze around the classroom at a tortuously slow pace. He scanned over the students until he saw Stiles, who looked away from him a second too late to stare at a blank notebook. His wolf was practically prancing around in his mind, pride blooming. It had to have been him. Stiles was looking directly at him. It had to be.
The bell rang and students rushed out the door into the halls. Derek took his time putting his things back into his bags, waiting for Stiles to start towards the door. Stiles was attempting to walk out and put his notebook back in its place simultaneously. Seeing an opportunity, Derek stepped up to the lanky boy.
"Here, let me." He smiled charmingly, lifting his eyebrows and held out his hand for the notebook.
Ah, yes, a lovely cliché.
Stiles choked on his spit and flailed a bit before collecting himself. His jaw was loose, pretty lips parted and dark eyes blown wide as he helplessly gave the werewolf his notebook. "I—You—Sure." They held eyes as Derek carefully slid it from his hand and into the bag.
"I'm Derek. Stiles, right?" The boy asked as if he didn't stalk watch over him for years. The shorter teen looked like he was going to faint as he dumbly nodded, mouth still open.
There was a pause.
Stiles slightly shook his head, bringing himself out of the drooly, hypnotized state he was in, looked at his watch-less wrist and lifted his head. "Sorry. Class. Gotta get.." He closed his eyes in what seemed to be mortification, spun in place, and scurried off.
Huh.
Well, in Derek's very biased opinion, that went amazingly. Splendidly even.
***