Laura is exhausted, the kind of bone-deep weariness
that settles over her soul and drags at her will to live. Grad school sucks and
she’s only on her second year. Closing her eyes against the lights that flash
by the window, she waits for the mechanical voice to announce her stop.
When she finally stumbles up the stairs to her
apartment, it’s past midnight. One of her experiments had malfunctioned and she’d
spent the better part of the evening and well into the night working on damage
control. With her luck, that’s three months’ worth of data that’ll be unsalvageable.
She’s digging her keys out of her messenger bag when
she hears a quiet snuffle. Whipping around, she spots one of the kids from 306
sprawled out on the hallway floor. He’s curled around his pillow, sound asleep.
Author: theproblemwithstardust Type of Work: Fic Title: you can count on me Rating: M Word Count: 980 Warnings: none Summary: Derek steps into the house and sighs deeply, all of the stress he’s accumulated over the last 24 hours dissipating as he focuses on the familiar heartbeat. It’s slow and steady, like Stiles is sleeping peacefully. But it isn’t coming from their bedroom.
Jaz pokes a final pin into her bun and straightens her
shirt. She frowns at her reflection. At barely five feet tall, it is hard
enough to get people to take her seriously as a regular human. There is no way
the notorious Hale Pack is going to give her negotiation attempts the time of
day.
Strong arms wrap around her waist and a warm body
drapes along her back.
“I can smell your nerves, babe. Everything is going to
be fine.”
Jaz sighs, leaning back against her alpha. “They’re
going to tear us apart.”
“No they won’t. Alpha Hale is an honorable man.” Maria
presses a wry smile into her mate’s neck. “It’s literally the only thing every other
pack we’ve met with has agreed on.”
“But his Emissary…” Jaz swallows hard, trying not to
think of the stories they’ve heard. Stories of a man who banished a legion of
demons to hell, using only the force of his will.
Sometimes, Laura forgets that she’s dead. She’ll phase
through a wall when she tries to lean against it. Or she’ll see something
delicious and remember she doesn’t need to eat.
Other times, it’s all she can think about. Like right
now, as she hovers beside her brother, hands passing through him instead of
offering a comforting touch. Derek is curled into a ball, looking impossibly small
and he shivers. She isn’t sure if it’s because of her ghostly presence or
because of his pent up sobs. Either way, her heart aches.
Stiles wakes up to several things happening at once. The first he notices, though, is the paw in his gut as Jasper vaults off the bed. Derek is sitting up next to him, phone in hand and listening to a panicked voice. According to the red glow of the alarm clock, it’s only five in the morning.
“…and that means our final group for this project is
Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski.” Finstock sets his clipboard down on the hood
of the van. “Please try not to kill each other.”
Each group is assigned to map a section of
mountainside. At the end, Finstock will compare the maps side by side to see if
the class managed to make a cohesive record.
It’s only three days. Derek can put up with anyone for
three days. Hell, he was partners with Greenberg for the first project and
survived. He takes a deep breath and picks up his day pack.
“Hey, there Derek.” Stiles falls in step beside him,
hands gripping his backpack straps. “You planning on murdering me and leaving
my body for the sheep?”
Derek sighs. “Let’s just do the project, Stilinski.”
“Stiles!” Derek yanks at the wheel of the stolen SUV,
narrowly avoiding a tree.
Stiles looks up from where he’s flipping through radio
stations. “What? This is a totally inappropriate soundtrack for a car chase.”
“Worry about the music later. Call Argent.”
Grumbling, Stiles mutes the radio and pulls out his phone.
Derek hits the gas, werewolf reflexes the only thing keeping them from
careening into something. The hunters are close behind and stealing one of their
vehicles only served to make them more irritated.
“Hey Chris!” Stiles says, voice hitching when the tires hit
a bump. The hunter replies, his words sounding like a garbled mess to Derek’s
overtaxed senses.
Stiles nods along. “Oh, we’re good. How’re you doing?”
The McCall Pack is legendary. It’s made up entirely of bitten wolves and other creatures led by a True Alpha with a deadly second and an even more deadly Emissary. Rumors say they’ve tamed a kanima and somehow snared a banshee.
Unfortunately, the pack is living on Hale land and it doesn’t sit well with Laura. So she contacts the Alpha, informing him of her decision to move her pack of five back to California. It takes less than a week to come up with a compromise.
The agreement is simple, worked out mainly over email with a few phone calls between Laura and the True Alpha. Derek will marry into the pack and in exchange, the remaining members of the Hale pack will have protection and the right to their family lands. It is a fair trade and a sacrifice Derek is more than willing to make to keep his little family safe.
Derek got to his feet slowly, wiping mud and monster guts out
of his eyes. It was almost the same as any other day in Beacon Hills, save for
one thing. This time, Stiles was home for the summer.
And he turned out to be the perfect secret weapon against the
pixies that had been plaguing the town for weeks. Unfortunately, werewolves weren’t
equipped to deal with small flying creatures. So Scott and Derek had
implemented failed plan after failed plan, finally resorting to calling Lydia
to test if a banshee scream would work over the phone. It did, but it only
bought them a day of reprieve.
“You good?”
Derek startled, ears still ringing from the concussive force
of the banishing spell. Stiles was standing just behind him, blood soaking
through his plaid shirt.
It took a moment for Derek to find his voice. “Is your dad
home?”
Stiles shook his head. “He’s on a double tonight.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“What?” The confusion meant Stiles was too hyped on
adrenaline to realize he’d had half a tree collapse on him.
theproblemwithstardust 