Daybreak

Chapter Two

Stiles ran into his second familiar face quicker than he would have liked. After traveling through time, meeting with half a werewolf pack, getting his own personal guard, and a room in the attic all in one day, Stiles had decided he needed a break from so many people and had escaped to his new room after lunch, he didn't come out for the rest of the evening except to use the bathroom right at the bottom of the stairs. Talia had come knocking to tell him that dinner was ready and he should come down but Stiles didn't answer, hoping she assumed he was asleep—or at least respected his attempts to pretend to be asleep if she could hear in his heart beat that he was still awake.

Perhaps it could be seen as a little childish on his part. Hiding up in his room and skipping dinner, but Stiles didn't really care how it made him look. He wasn't avoiding them because he was shy or petty with teenage angst. Lunch was one thing, a good portion of the pack would either be in class—for those old enough to control the shift—or at work. What Stiles had faced earlier had just been a handful of pups and some of their parents.

Dinner would undoubtedly involve most of the house being in attendance. Just the thought of it had Stiles feeling out of breath and like he was going to shake right out of his own skin. Stiles didn't do well in crowds even before everything went to hell. Now? Now it was a nightmare. Think what they may, Stiles needed time to himself or else he'd end up putting a dinner fork through someone's hand and work himself up into a full-blown panic while he did it. It was just better and safer for everyone if he kept his distance as much as possible.

Besides that, truth be told, he was exhausted. After having not slept a wink the night before because of the funeral and trying to figure out how to send Stiles back. Add onto that weeks of only catching a few hours when he couldn't will himself awake for any longer or Deaton having put something in his tea to make sleep come easily and dreamlessly. It was no wonder Stiles was out with the sun. And maybe it had a little to do with being so near a live and healthy pack, despite his issues with actually being with them, but he wasn't trying to put too much thought into how their proximity was settling something restless inside him right then.

It wasn't until the next morning, while he was feeling achingly good from the hours of rest but ultimately having to answer to the demands of his growling stomach, that Stiles found himself blinking up at another familiar face as he stood in the kitchen, hand stuck halfway up his shirt so he could scratch his stomach and his mouth watered at the scent of sizzling breakfast meats.

He blinked again. Derek blinked back, slice of buttered toast half-shoved into his stuffed cheeks like a hamster. A six-foot-tall hamster with unfairly broad shoulders and the physique that usually had coach foaming at the mouth to get them on his team. Derek wasn't as muscular as the Derek Stiles remembered, but the kid had obviously hit his growth-spurts early in life. Aside from the lack of added bulk to his arms and chest, the smooth stubble-free face, and wide-eyed youthfulness that seemed to leak from every pore, Derek looked so similar to how he remembered that it almost hurt. Deaton had been hard to look in the eye, but he and Deaton had only grown close recently. Derek was . . . God! Derek was his fucking pack!

This Derek was probably around the age of fifteen-sixteen if he remembered correctly. It didn't really matter that Stiles was only seventeen, looking at Derek now, they felt decades apart.

Derek quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, which looked painful if the boy's wince was anything to go by. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and took a few steps forward.

"How's it going? Mom told me we'd be having someone new staying here from now on, but you didn't show up for dinner so. . ." Derek trailed off, shifting his stance slightly, shoulders dropping and tugging in slightly as he scratched the back of his head, like he was trying to make himself smaller.