At the start of senior year Stiles had looked at universities in California, close enough to come home to his dad but far enough away to ensure at least a little autonomy. He looked at the courses offered knowing he needed to pick things that would interest him or he'd be screwed. He had done amazingly on the SATs, though when he bragged about it Derek had growled long, low and loud. Still obviously a tender subject even though Stiles had been very careful ever since to take the medication with care. Stiles had his heart set on Berkeley, three hour drive offering journalism and folklore – since his life was werewolves and they captivated him then integrating it in the studies would make it easier to focus. Plus, Stiles knew himself well enough to know that he loved unravelling things. He would need to go and see if they ended up being for him but it was a place to start. He would only be able to go if he could get a scholarship, his grades were there but who knew. His teachers probably didn't have great things to say about him. So he had a list of backups. While he was in the zone he had written his admissions letters and saved them. The greatest trick in his fight against his own brain was to do things the second he was focussed on them and never, ever leave things until later.
Months passed and the actual process of writing and sending applications began so he pulled them out, checked them and sent them all off.
Derek had decided to train him, teach him how to defend himself since the house was finally finished, mostly Lydia decoration free, and training was changing among the werewolves so all that was left was to really get into trying to train the untrainable. As soon as the pack formed Derek instigated training sessions and Stiles was included. For about two weeks. He was included only until it was made obvious that he was dangerous. Stiles had always been a little clumsy; he could hurt himself and fall over when standing still and putting Derek in the mix made him so nervous he was constantly having trouble controlling his limbs.
So, Stiles was put in a more organisational role, he became the person who fed and watered everyone, did the research, just generally came up with new ways to test the wolves, sat off to the side and kept up a running commentary of the fights, awarded points and then declared grand champion. Derek was always the grand champion; which was probably why he only growled a little when Stiles started with his running commentary, putting on his best impersonation of whoever commentated the football games his dad watched. He thoroughly enjoyed the competition even if it started in his head. Scott was the first to become invested and then the whiteboard had appeared in the basement where Stiles started keeping track of all the different games, activities and exercises that they routinely competed on.
Stiles had come into his own when it came to weapons training though. Derek had looked terrified, hell, everyone but Scott had looked terrified when Stiles had walked over, picked up the rifle and aimed. Derek had actually smiled, a full proper smile when he saw the way Stiles hit every target before shooting the apple core out of Jackson's hand.
"Take that bitches!" Stiles proclaimed as he blew on the barrel. Scott had fallen over laughing at the look on the other three werewolves' faces.
Really it was stupid of them to be so surprised; his dad was a cop, he had been taught to respect guns and then when old enough how to clean, shot and look after them. Scott was an okay shot but Stiles beat every one of the werewolves with any firearm and as it turned out he was pretty good with other projectile weapons too. Alison was not the only one who knew how to use a crossbow now.
In the two years since Derek had become alpha the four wolves had become a strong, well trained and cohesive team. They were a family but apparently the fact Stiles was useless in a fight now needed to be solved. As a result, three nights a week Stiles had to go to Derek's house and train with the werewolf, yet another situation where Stiles was constantly reminded he had fallen in desperate lust with the alpha and wanted him so badly he was constantly aroused. Just what he needed really.