The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist.
Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope.
He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles.
“I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”
Derek thinks that the mating rituals are overly romanticized bullshit, but claiming a mate and defending them from challengers is something werewolves do, and his pack can't afford to appear weak after the fire. Especially not when Deucalion and his friends are in town for the rituals. Enter Stiles Stilinski, who offers to let Derek claim him so he won't be overrun at the ceremonies. Nothing goes as expected.
Stiles is an unbonded spark, so he's been dealing with courting alphas since he was ten. It's gotten a lot worse since he turned sixteen. Some are assholes, some are nice, but Stiles hasn't wanted to spend the rest of his life bound to any of them.
When Derek Hale shows up at his school, Stiles expects him to be just another asshole alpha attempting to buy him with expensive gifts. But Derek Hale puts no effort whatsoever into his courtship gifts. Stiles ought to be offended but instead he finds it refreshing.