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Wow, thank you all for taking the time to read. I’ve already posted this to AO3 (BrosBeforeHalos) but I thought Wattpad deserved love too. I’ll be posting a chapter a night as long as I remember until it’s all up :). Please comment and favorite and add to your library if you enjoy!
“Hey there, dumbass.” Derek hears the greeting even before he’s all the way down the rocks.
“Hello, Stiles,” he sighs out, long-suffering. Derek thought that once they became friendlier the less-than-friendly nicknames would go away, but apparently that’s how Stiles expresses fondness. Derek should be touched. Really.
“Hey so I’ve been thinking,” —Derek hates the sound of this already— “what if we write a book together?”
“A what?” Out of all the things Derek was expecting Stiles to say, that is definitely not one of them. He likes to read books and all, but write one? With a dragon?
For the past few weeks, Derek has been visiting Stiles and bringing him food on an almost daily basis, and during these visits they’ve really started to get to know each other. It was odd and awkward at first, full of many wrong steps and awkward silences. Once Stiles had even thrown his empty water canteen at Derek’s head and used a little magic to project it right into his temple. But as his visit grew longer and Stiles grew a bit more trusting, the boys found that they actually don’t mind spending time with each other.
Derek knows that Stiles loves fried potatoes, has two best friends named Lydia and Allison, and is, and he quotes, “the most colorful black dragon you’ll ever meet.” In turn, Stiles has been able to drag stories from Derek, mostly about the antics that he gets up to with Cora and Laura, and used to with Aslan. He’ll ask Derek about the few friends he’s mentioned—Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and the twins—just to have Derek deadpan that he hates them. Stiles had just laughed and threw an empty tin can at him.
“A book,” Stiles reasons, his voice slightly higher than normal. “Y’know, to record our interactions and prove that dragons and werewolves get along.”
Derek just shakes his head and sits heavily on the log that he’s properly dubbed as his. “No one would listen to a book, Stiles. But…I’ve been wondering…what are your tattoos for?”
Stiles looks a little relived at the question, which Derek files away. “I’ll only tell you if you promise to tell another story about Cora and Laura.” His eyes glint cattily. Derek waves him off with an of course. “Alright. So every dragon has tattoos all over their body, and these are visual representations of their magic. So you see how mine are black? Well, my dragon is as well. The tattoos manifest when we’re young and learning magic, so they are both a product of and a beacon for it. So for example, if I were to use my magic—” Stiles pauses to wave a hand at the ground, and suddenly a single red flower pokes out from the dirt— “then my tattoos would flow depending on the exertion. See?” He makes the petals bloom and pulls up the sleeve to his shirt, revealing his blue-glowing tattoos. As soon as the magic stops, the blue fades away and leaves only black ink.
“My dad, he’s a…” Stiles reaches over his leg to grab the tiny, worn book Derek gave him, complete with personal sketches and notes. The front is bound leather, the words “Dragonpedia” scratched into the front. Stiles flips to a dog-eared page and mouths the name before saying it. “A Bewilderbeast,” he finally spits out.
Derek’s pretty sure his eyes are popping out of his head. “He’s a Bewilderbeast!?”
Stiles shrugs, eyebrows crinkled like they do when he’s confused by Derek’s expressions or movements. “Yeah. He’s kind of in charge of our dragon herd.”
Derek squints his eyes. “I’ve heard that they’re like the alpha version of dragons. Is…is he the one ordering the attacks on us?”
Stiles’s eyes fly wide open. “Oh goddess no! My dad is a peaceful leader!”
“Then I don’t understand. If you—”
“Please,” Stiles says, and it sounds so broken Derek’s voice dies right in his throat. “I’ll tell you about it, just…not right now.” Derek purses his lips, but nods agreeably. Stiles perks up again in a way that makes Derek either want to smile or hold down his animated arms. “Anyway, like I was saying, my dad is a Bewilderbeast, and his tattoos are a lot thicker and they’re a deep brown. I guess he’s like an earthy version of this snowy one you have described in here.”
“Was your mother a Night Fury?” Derek asks, realizing that Stiles has never mentioned a mother.
The dragon gives him a crooked, broken smile. “Nah, she was a Death Song.” His long fingers flip to another dog-eared page. They trace over the picture Derek had drawn. “She was beautiful, and she’d sing to me every night to help me get to sleep. She’s the one that taught me that being the only dragon of my species—a Night Fury, if you will—isn’t something to be ashamed of.” He swallows and when he looks up at Derek, his eyes are dark and shielded. “She died in an attack when I was nine.”
“My dad…he died in one too. A dragon set fire to our house and he ran in to get us all out, and he was going back in to get my brother…and then they didn’t come out.” Derek stares at the ground, using all of his mental willpower to not replay that awful scene in his mind.
A hand comes up over one of his own and squeezes. Derek doesn’t look up, he physically can’t at the moment, but he’s pretty sure Stiles doesn’t either. He doesn’t know how long they stay that way, holding hands and sharing their pain.
“Do you…do you want to hear that story now?” Derek asks softly, able to glance up quickly.
“I’d love that,” Stiles responds, and listens with a smile as Derek talks about the time Cora and Laura once ruined their mom’s sheets the first time they found her stash of chocolate, the two boys’ hands still twined together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the Alpha’s only son, Derek is required to attend many meetings and do many things that he would otherwise flee from. When his mother utters the words “True Alpha,” he audibly groans and drops the fork he’s eating with, defeated.
“What?” She asks, turning innocently to him. He gives her a look, because she knows. “He’s not that bad, Derek. He’s barely younger than you, only a few months.” She comes up behind him and squeezes his shoulder. “I need you to be there for this meeting. It’s very important that we discuss Scott’s future in our pack, should he and his mother decide to stay.”
“Fine, fine,” Derek grumbles, sending the scowl that he would never dare flash at his mother to his dinner plate.
“Tomorrow then. You’ll miss lessons, but it won’t matter. I’ve heard that you’re quite the fast learner, son.” Her warm hand is comforting, but increasingly heavy. “I’m very proud of you.”
Surprisingly, Derek feels tears well up in his eyes, and he furiously wishes that they would disappear. To he honest, he’s only heard his mother say those words with such conviction to his sisters and older brother, but now they’re directed at him, and for what? For using tips he’s been learning from Stiles to peacefully send the dragons back into their cages. It seems kind of unfair.
“Go to sleep, you look worried. Maybe a day off will do you some good.” She brushes her hand along his cheek, lingering before heading off to her study, no doubt for last-minute lunch planning. When she goes to bed, Derek can hear her breathing soften almost the second her head hits the pillow.
Derek, on the other hand, twists and turns as his mind goes in circles, only settling down for sleep when his thoughts cycle back to Stiles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The McCalls were first brought into the pack when a young female omega came crawling into their territory with a five-year-old pup latched onto her leg. She revealed herself as a healer and a victim to her mate’s betrayal. She left him when he maimed the pup in a fit of rage, running with her son the first moment she could get away. Derek’s mother took the two in, shifting them into faithful betas. That is, until the pup transformed into a True Alpha about a little over a year ago after years of marvelous battle tactics and leading positions. To say Talia was surprised when it happened is an understatement. One of her most submissive, most obedient, and most kind betas is a True Alpha.
Scott’s natural qualities make him the best possible candidate in Talia’s eyes, obviously. Scott would never challenge Talia for her pack, and he seems perfectly happy to not recruit any betas for himself. He still draws power from their pack and they provide the young alpha and mother with protection.
Talia raps on the McCall’s door, and you can hear a scramble from inside and a “Scott, can you get the door?”
There’s more scrambling before a boy with a curly dark mop of hair smiles at the two with a lopsided grin. “Derek! Alpha Hale! It’s great to see you guys! Please come in!”
Derek’s never really been fond of the werewolf. Scott’s nice, but he’s almost too nice. He likes to talk in exclamation points and uses his puppy eyes a lot. He’s only a few months younger than Derek, but he’s not allowed to join in their training so Derek doesn’t really know him on a level other than a political one.
Scott, on the other hand, obviously feels differently.
“I’m so glad you could make it! It’s been a while since we could all just sit and talk. Just sit here, my mom’s almost done with lunch.” Scott gestures towards one of their couches, and the Hales comply. He sits across from them and leans excitedly on his knees with his elbows, head perched in his hands. “So Derek, how’s training? I’ve heard that you’re doing great.”
Derek shrugs, pursing his lips. “It’s fine. Hard.”
Scott nods, not unperturbed in the slightest. “Yeah, it really sounds like it! I’m really sorry I can’t join you and all, but…” He trails off and shrugs, and Derek mirrors the gesture.
“Lunch!” Mrs. McCall calls from the dining room, and the three werewolves all stand and join her. They each take a respective seat at the table and watch as Scott’s mom and only official pack member sets out a tray of sandwiches. “It’s so lovely to see you both here today,” she says pleasantly. Mrs. McCall is a comely woman, with the same dark hair and Latino features as her son. “I was very excited to hear that you two were coming over today.”
“Well thank you for allowing us into your home, Melissa.” Talia says. It’s really just a formality, because really everyone knows you’ll get ripped to shreds if you decline an alpha’s presence. Melissa just nods submissively and sits down at her respective spot at the table. Derek doesn’t miss the playful smile she shoots at Scott before she bows her head to eat, though.
“So Scott,” Talia begins, not one for useless small talk, ” you have been such an asset to our army over the years, and I would make you a general of not for the fear of tarnishing your True Alpha status.” Scott nods, shoving part of a sandwich into his mouth. “But since you have shown skill in navigation and tactics, I would like to formally offer you a position as our head peace-maker and negotiator.”
Scott almost chokes on the other half of his sandwich. “Wow. Uh,” he quickly gulps it down. “What would this title ensue?” He asks politely. His eyes are bugging out of their sockets.
“You would be in charge of missions to other nations, all peace negotiations, and you would be on the board that decides whether or not to wage war against another pack or declare them as allies.”
“So basically you’re using my judge of character as a weapon?” Scott asks.
The question throws the alpha off guard, but she recovers and nods, deciding the simple truth is better than a carefully worded one. “Exactly.”
Scott’s face splits into a smile. “Awesome. Way to use your resources. It’s so cool to see the real alpha work.” His words make Talia’s wolf preen, but Derek can tell that she’s hiding it as much as she can.
“I’m very glad you’re happy with this turnout,” Talia says regally, but anyone can tell that she actually is pleased.
“Oh definitely, Talia. This is a great idea.” Scott is all smiles and gushing words, and Derek still can’t tell if he likes or loathes Scott by default.
Talia decides to take the moment to get up and nods deeply at Melissa. “Thank you for lunch. And thank you Scott, for being so…”
“True?” Scott grins goofily at his own joke, and Talia chuckles.
“Yes, true.”
“My pleasure. Have a great night, you two.”
Scott closes the door behind them. Derek is still wondering when they got outside as Talia turns to her son. “That went better than expected.” He nods distractedly and Talia rolls her eyes. “Go on, run off. I know how much of your father’s son you are.”
Derek shares one watery glance with his mother before smiling his thanks and running off into the woods. Maybe Stiles will help him figure out whether to like Scott or not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One of the most celebrated accomplishments in the village is not when a pup is born, not when a child slays his first dragon, but instead when two wolves bond in the form of a mating ceremony. There’s nothing as magical as two wolves finding their mates, the one person they’re supposed to be with until they die. Mating ceremonies are bigger than birthing ceremonies, bigger than Dragon ceremonies, and almost as big as the yearly Death ceremonies. Well, it’s not really appropriate to call them ceremonies because most of the time is full of celebration and only a little of traditional ceremonial rites.
The Mating Ceremony that’s happening right now is the second one Derek has ever been a part of, and it is for his own sister, nonetheless. A werewolf diplomat from another pack had been visiting and had caught one smell of Laura and knew—they were meant to be. Laura, of course, had required him to woo her with gorgeous things and pretty words, and had ultimately agreed to perform the ritual with him only if he agreed to do it in their own village. He, of course, had easily agreed.
Derek isn’t really sure how exactly it’s supposed to go, but he’s gathered with the other member of his pack in front of a huge makeshift stage. His mother and Cora stand beside him and off to the side of the stage while Laura and Jack stand in the middle. Laura is wearing a thin white gown, a celebration of a summer bonding, and Jack wears a thin white tunic to match. The Hale pack’s triskele is swirled into the lacy patters and decorates the entire outdoor arena, showing off their power and pack bondage. Derek doesn’t realize that his own foot is tapping until his mother hushes him, and it takes most of his self-control to keep still. He’s never had problems with this before, and bitterly blames Stiles.
He realizes that a surreal hush has overpowered the entire arena and he turns his eyes to the front of the stage. Jack is gently pushing down the collar of Laura’s dress and baring her neck for the packs to see. There’s a few whistles, but most bow their heads in respect. His eyes glow yellow and his fangs poke out between his lips and he bites hard on her neck. A yelp leaves her lips, and blood stains both her and Jack’s pristine clothing. They repeat the process except opposite, Laura lowering her teeth to his neck and painfully latching on, splashing them both with blood. The two wounds heal in synch, leaving pretty pink scarring down their necks. These marks will be theirs to bear for the rest of their lives.
A large bout of howling follows the completion of the ceremony, and the two wolves run down the middle of the crowd, which has parted like a sea. Derek follows when Cora tugs his hand, and the rest of the alpha’s family leaves the arena before the rest of the pack.
Everyone meets up again in town square, which has been emptied out. It’s odd to be able to see the intricate sunstone details that some architect designed and made thousands of years ago etched into the place where they’re all standing, but now that everything is cleared out Derek can see the full extent of the patterns and pictures. Wolves in the desert, curling around water playfully and baring their teeth at rattlesnakes, fierce yet loving, and beyond beautiful. Derek wonders why they hide it with venders and workers. Where everyone gathers, they create a circle. It’s custom for the married pair and their siblings to dance what is called the Ceremonial Dance. Derek tugs his shirt off to show the muscles he’s been acquiring over the past few months, and blushes when he feels the eyes of more than one young wolf woman.
Laura, in between Cora and him, does the same, and Cora follows suit. On the other side of the circle is Jack’s three siblings: his two sisters and one hulking brother. They stand there, shirtless, ready to dance. The wolves in the circle surrounding them are all holding paint on their fingertips, and as the siblings walk by they brush their hands upon their backs, creating intricate patterns of many different colors and sizes. It’s mesmerizing to look at. The drum stops, signaling the beginning of the dance, and all the siblings in the circle stop as well. They turn to the person opposite of them and walk up in long strides. The drum begins again, and they dance.
“Why hello there, handsome.” The woman pressed against Derek sighs. Her breasts and taut nipples are rubbing into his chest, paint mixed with his own. “Don’t be missing a step, now,” she winks and trades partners like she’s supposed to, and Derek finds himself dancing with the next sister.
This one does not seem to be making any moves on him, and instead focuses on hopping at the correct moment. Derek catches her when she accidentally slips, and many wolves howl, impressed. “Thanks,” she breathes, then trades partners. The brother is the last, and he dances silently with Derek, both of them focusing on the steps and the way their own feet barely miss each other’s. They twist and turn and their fingers brush more than once, but Derek focuses on the dance instead of the tightness of his cock. Sweat is dripping down everyone’s necks by the end, paint smearing where the wet tracks ruin the markings.
Once the siblings finish, it becomes anyone’s invitation to dance and join in the festivities, and they all splatter themselves with paint as they jump and spin, adding tambourines and iron drums to the instrumentation. A few more people demand Derek’s attention, and Talia forces him to give it, and at one point Scott finds him and grabs his hands excitedly. “Derek! Isn’t this the best!? Your sister’s married!” He swings the older wolf around, managing to splatter them with even more paint.
Then Scott skips off to find someone else to dance with, Laura and Jack have already ditched their own mating festival, and Derek takes this as his moment to collect his shirt and escape.
“Derek! What’s happening up there?!” Stiles asks as soon as he can see the wolf. “There’s so much noise!” His eyes are alight with excitement and fear, and he doesn’t look sure of himself.
“My sister’s mating ceremony. It’s a big deal.”
Stiles allows himself a smile. “It sounds like it. And look at you, all painted and shirtless.” The dragon lets his eyes slide up and down Derek’s torso appreciatively, and the wolf blushes profusely and tugs his shirt on. “No,” Stiles whines playfully, letting himself fall back onto a log. Derek’s log. “That was a good view to have.” He grumbles to himself. Derek just stares dumbly at the boy and wonders when their relationship graduated to shameless flirting. Somehow, he doubts it has, but knowing Stiles this is just the beginning. “So what is a Mating Ceremony?” Stiles asks it like he’s asking about some weird blood ritual. Which, well, Derek guesses it kind of is.
He skips a lot of the details, motoring over the shared blood and just talking about the bites and the bond. “It sounds a lot like a wedding.” Stiles says casually, looking deep in thought.
“A wedding?”
“Yeah. When two dragons want to be together, they have a wedding and then are bound together in a bond we call marriage. It’s a ceremony a lot like yours except they exchange vows instead of bites and then they each gain marital tattoos. Then we dance and party all night long.”
“We dance as well. That’s what these are for,” Derek gestures shyly to his back.
“You dance!?” Stiles’s eyes are alight again, and Derek really doesn’t like the look in them this time.
“Only when I must,” he grunts.
“Oh Derek, please show me the dance!” Stiles is half-teasing, half-serious, and his huge doe eyes are too much to say no to.
“I…I need a partner. I can’t do it alone.” He rubs his arm awkwardly.
Stiles glances at his missing foot, but hops into a standing position anyway. “You’re strong enough, and with a little magic I think I can help with the balance thing. A little.”
Derek shrugs and lets Stiles brace himself on Derek’s shoulders. The boy murmurs something under his breath, and once Derek makes sure the dragon is steady he takes off, pounding his feet hard enough into the ground that they make their own beat. Stiles is staring at their feet in wonder, making sure his foot hops in time, and his face is nothing but joyful when he looks back up. Derek hasn’t seen Stiles this relaxed…ever. It’s an odd but not unwelcome sight. His cheeks are flushed, eyes brighter than normal, not lit with curiosity but with glorious joy.
It’s almost as if they’re flying when Derek spins them, Stiles’s breathy laughter expelling from his lungs and falling on Derek’s cheek. His eyelashes are long in the setting sunlight, the rocky valley they’re in no longer a prison but a dancing arena. Stiles’s hops grow more sporadic as he gets tired, but his breath is still steady and eventually Derek just continues to lift him through the air, pretending that he can restore the dragon’s ability of flight with just his arms.
Sometimes it looks like Stiles is trying to take off when he lets his hands flit from Derek’s shoulders and throws them high into the air during their spins, happy to feel the air whistle through his open fingers. Derek wants to properly feel what it’s like to dance with Stiles at a Mating Ceremony, both of their bodies heavy with paint and sweat, twirling and jumping around each other in a flirted art form. He wants to know what it would feel like to have Stiles’s bare chest brush up against his own, Stiles’s fingers lightly touching his hair, his wrists, his hands. Just Stiles in general.
“Derek?” The wolf hears, and he realizes that he was so caught up in the moment with Stiles that he never noticed that another person had come up upon them. “Oh my god,” the person says, and in a horror he turns to see Scott. The True Alpha is staring at Derek and Stiles, the werewolf and the dragon, wrapped up in each other’s arms and obviously caught, with an I’m-so-telling-your-mom look on his face. There’s so much Derek should say right now, so much he could say, but really he’s so terrified at being found that only one thing pops out of his mouth.
“Please don’t tell my mom.”
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