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Title: Solstice Alpha
Author: dsudis
Recipient: januarylight
Pairings: Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11,200
Warnings: Underage sex, underage drinking.
Summary: The traditional Hale pack solstice party gets resurrected by the new and improved-from-ten-months-ago Hale pack.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to I. for encouraging this, and T. for beta! I hope you like this, januarylight--I had a lot of fun writing a werewolf holiday for you!




Derek had told him that it was usually the youngest in the pack, so Stiles had assumed (once he got past the mental image of Derek as a kindergartener, wearing a red Santa hat and bossing around all the adults of the Hale pack) that Boyd would be the obvious choice. Not only was he the youngest in werewolf terms, being the last bitten, he was also actually the youngest; he'd only turned sixteen in August, at the start of their junior year. Most importantly Boyd was a pretty laid-back guy who probably wouldn't do anything terrible, like accidentally-on-purpose challenging Derek's authority for real, if he got to be the alpha for a night.

Boyd was such an obvious choice that--unlike pretty much every other part of the pack's very first winter solstice party--Stiles hadn't felt the need to carefully negotiate it in advance with everyone else. The first sign that something was going sideways was when Lydia unfolded the little scrap of paper Stiles had written his vote on and rolled her eyes. She tilted it to show to Allison, who smiled indulgently and shrugged.

Lydia barely looked at any of the other scraps of paper. She turned to Derek, who was standing in the doorway, at a polite distance from the voting going on at the dining room table, which was already set for dinner. "Well, almost unanimously, we choose Stiles as our solstice alpha."

Derek nodded, showing nothing remotely resembling surprise.

"Uh, wait, do I get a veto?" Everyone was abruptly looking at Stiles with nearly identical expressions of exasperation. "Well, come on, what! I'm not even a werewolf, you guys, how can I--"

And then it caught up with him. Of course he was the obvious choice; he was exactly as threatening to Derek's alpha status as a five-year-old. Never-bitten was even younger than last-bitten. And if Derek hadn't actually mentioned that humans were eligible--well, it had been hard enough getting Derek to tell him anything at all about how the Hale pack's traditional solstice party was supposed to work. That particular omission was no surprise.

"No," Lydia said unnecessarily. "You don't get a veto. You've been chosen; now you have to challenge the alpha and win so we can have a solstice party."

"Yeah, don't ruin everything," Scott said cheerfully. "If you lose I think Derek's going to make us train all night."

Jackson scowled. "If I have to run suicides after I convinced my parents to put off leaving for our ski trip, Stilinski, I will--"

"Plus I'll call off Christmas," Derek interrupted blandly.

"So, no pressure!" Erica said with a bright smile.

"Uh," Stiles said blankly, looking around at all their bright, eager, expectant faces. "Uh, guys, I don't actually--am I seriously supposed to fight Derek for your honor and to save Christmas and everything?"

But there had to be a way this worked, if little kids usually got picked. Right on cue Derek and Lydia rolled their eyes--almost in unison, which was sort of impressive since Derek was behind Lydia and couldn't see her expression--and Lydia said, "Isaac, you're officiating the challenge, why don't you explain it?"

Isaac nodded and walked over to stand directly between Stiles and Derek. Everyone else shifted to the far side of the dining room table, and Derek actually stepped into the room, so there was an open space between them like they were about to duel or something. Stiles half expected Isaac to pull out a hankie to drop, but instead he brought some notecards out of his pocket.

"The competition is Star Wars trivia," Isaac announced. "Best of five wins."

Stiles blinked, opened his mouth to say that was unfair and then closed it again. Of course it was unfair and pointless; that was the idea. He knew that, he just hadn't really expected to be directly involved.

He also had not, in any way, been looking forward to watching Boyd and Derek stage a pillow fight at this point in the evening.

Derek nodded solemnly and frowned in concentration. "Ready."

"Oh, yeah. Ready," Stiles agreed.

Isaac nodded and added, "Please remain silent until the challenge is concluded," with a serious look at the rest of the pack.

"Name the creature which Jabba the Hutt--"

"Sarlacc," Stiles said automatically, and then slapped a hand over his mouth while Isaac and Derek both stared at him.

"Sorry!" Stiles said through his fingers, "It's probably something else, you can finish the question, I'll--"

Isaac shook his head. "Nope. Sarlacc is correct. First point to Stiles."

Derek nodded acknowledgement, and Stiles lowered his hands and clasped them behind his back.

"Name the capital of the planet Naboo," Isaac said next.

Stiles waited long enough to see Derek frown before he blurted out, "Theed!"

Isaac nodded again. "Correct. Two points to Stiles."

Stiles bounced on his heels. Derek shifted his weight.

"Name the ruler of the planet Naboo," Isaac said calmly.

"Queen--" Stiles said, and then stopped short. "Wait, before the Empire or under the Empire?"

Isaac looked blank, and Derek seemed sort of amused.

"No, come on, there are--guys, this is a major plot point, there's not just one. Have you even seen the movies?"

"In the theater, when I was a kid," Derek said with a shrug.

"You know who I mean, Stiles," Isaac said impatiently. "Just answer."

"Queen Amidala," Stiles huffed, "Who was succeeded by Queen Jamillia, who--"

"Stiles wins," Isaac announced, cutting him off. "Stiles is alpha."

Stiles smiled uncertainly and punched a fist in the air, but the whole pack cheered like they actually meant it--even Jackson was clapping for real. Stiles was startled into a real grin and did a tiny, stupid victory dance in the time it took for Lydia to come over and present him with the goofy red-lensed costume glasses.

Stiles put them on and looked toward Derek, fully intending to say I'm the alpha now, except that Derek had walked over to stand right in front of him. Stiles turned his head just in time to watch Derek drop to his knees at his feet.

"Oh," Stiles said. "Um."

Derek had his head bowed slightly, so Stiles was looking down at the back of his neck. His hands were open at his sides. This in no way resembled anything that Stiles had ever thought about in the privacy of his shower at home (the only place werewolves would not a) smell what you'd been doing later and then b) cheerfully speculate about the details, as he had learned in the last several months).

"Here you go," Lydia said, waving something at him. It looked red, like everything. Stiles nudged the glasses down slightly and peered over them to see the bright blue of the scarf.

"For your new beta," Lydia added unnecessarily, and Stiles took the scarf and watched his hands move like they belonged to someone else, blindfolding Derek and tying the scarf at the back of his head.

He tugged at the knot, checking whether it was tight enough, and Derek nodded just enough for Stiles to feel the motion. Stiles jerked his hands back to his sides and then looked over at the rest of the pack. They were all standing there looking cheerful and expectant, like he was supposed to know what the hell to do next. Stiles felt a burst of terrifying sympathy for Derek, who had somehow gotten them all through the last year intact: Peter, the hunters, the kanima, the alpha pack, Peter again for hopefully the last time, plus assorted romantic crises and parents finding out. All Stiles had to do was not fuck up a party.

He looked back down at Derek, who was still kneeling there, head bowed, bright blue scarf tied around his head, and then he summoned up a grin and smacked him on the shoulder. "Arise, beta Derek, and go get dinner. And the rest of you jerks sit down."

The rest of the pack moved around the table, silently negotiating their seats--Stiles thought for a second that he should have done name cards and then remembered that he had delegated table-setting to Lydia. If Lydia hadn't seen the need for assigned seats, there was none. Jackson sat down first, yanking out a chair with a clatter and dropping into it in an obnoxious sprawl, obviously perfectly content to wait for Derek to serve him.

"Jackson," Stiles said brightly, because this one night he could. "Thank you for volunteering to help Derek bring in dinner! The turkey should be done resting now, bring that over here."

Jackson's smug contentment turned into a frown, which only deepened when he looked around and realized the rest of the pack was with Stiles on this. He stomped into the kitchen, brushing roughly past Derek in the doorway and forcing Derek to juggle the big bowl of salad and basket of rolls he was carrying.

Even blindfolded, Derek made the maneuver look graceful--Stiles suspected him of being a little showy to make the point to his betas that they didn't need any one sense to get around when they could use the others. Stiles watched every motion, and then froze at the realization that instead of just setting the stuff on the table, Derek was bringing it to him. Derek dropped to his knees, offering Stiles the salad and rolls.

Adding food to the whole kneeling-before-him thing somehow did not make it less weird, or less--weird.

Derek had never, ever demanded any alpha-prerogative when there were pack meals. If anything, he was prone to wait until everyone else had filled their plate before he took anything. But he wasn't a jerk to Jackson just because he could be, either, and had never expected any of his betas to act the way he was acting now; being solstice alpha wasn't about acting like Derek-the-actual-alpha acted the rest of the time. It was about being a caricature of an alpha, lording it over everyone. Obviously part of that was getting first choice of food.

Stiles cleared his throat and said, "Thank you, Derek," as he selected the most perfectly golden-brown roll and then served himself some salad. "Set those out on the table now."

Derek nodded and rose smoothly, moving around the far side of the table so that he didn't get in Jackson's way as he came back with the turkey. Jackson went to set down the heavy platter on the table and Scott and Boyd both, in unison, said, "Ah-ah!"

Jackson's eyes flashed with irritation, and Stiles pushed the red glasses up his nose to look at Jackson through them as he said, "Over here, Jackson."

Jackson came over and knelt down, nearly as smoothly as Derek, and Stiles took the knife and fork from the edge of the platter and carved the turkey. This was another thing he'd expected Boyd to be doing, but he'd looked up the best way to do it anyway, so he thought it went pretty well. He served himself and then nodded for Jackson to set the platter on the table, and looked up to see Derek standing behind Jackson, patiently waiting with a glass dish in his hands.

It wasn't until Derek knelt down that Stiles realized, in no particular order, that a) Derek was holding the tamales Stiles had last seen in the oven, and b) Derek was barehanded, and c) Stiles could actually see Derek's skin blistering around the edges of the pan.

"Derek!" Stiles snapped, and Derek's head jerked like Stiles had hit him, like Stiles even could hit him hard enough to make him react. "Set that down, Jesus!"

Derek turned toward the table, still on his knees, and Isaac grabbed one of the little ceramic tiles Lydia had brought because we're going to need trivets for the hot dishes and Stiles had just nodded and pretended he knew what the hell a trivet was. Isaac set the tile down on the corner of the table right beside Derek, and Derek set the dish on top of it with a slight clatter.

Before Derek could move, Stiles grabbed his wrists, tugging them over to look at the red, blistered burns across each palm and his fingertips.

"That was so stupid," Stiles snapped, horrified that Derek had actually been hurt. This was supposed to be a game, nothing more. "Why--I know there are oven mitts, I was using them, why didn't you use them?"

Derek made a stupid little face, screwing up his mouth and nose with distaste. "I can't feel anything through those."

"You'd rather feel your flesh burning?" Stiles demanded. "You are the worst werewolf, you are completely fired from getting dinner. Isaac, help Jackson get the rest, and don't burn yourself."

Isaac nodded and popped up to his feet, and Stiles said, "You just stay right here," and squeezed Derek's wrists, watching the burns fade. The blisters shrank away before his eyes, and the red faded to pink, before Stiles let go of his hands.

Jackson and Isaac leaned over Derek, offering food at arm's length, and Stiles filled his plate with the random assortment of dishes you got when you let the pack all contribute their holiday favorites. The others were helping themselves, passing dishes and salt and pepper and gravy and salsa, and Isaac dropped a potholder next to the tamales when he sat back down, scooping some onto Stiles's plate without being asked before he helped himself and then passed the dish, potholder and all, over to Scott.

Through it all, Derek knelt beside Stiles's chair with his hands held out, palm up. When the others were all talking and eating, and Derek's hands looked perfectly normal except for the way they were held out for his inspection, Stiles said quietly, "Okay, you go get the wine and pour it, without hurting yourself."

Derek nodded silently and got to his feet, and Stiles took a bite of turkey and looked down the table at his pack, only to find half of them looking speculatively at him.

"I don't know what any of you are talking about," Stiles said, mouth full. "Shut up and eat your dinners."

That made all of them smile, but none of them argued with the solstice alpha.

Everyone else messed with Derek a little as he walked around the table, pouring wine blindfolded. Derek dodged about half the ass-grabs and pinches and tickles, and spilled wine on everyone he didn't get away from. Stiles figured that was only fair, and didn't interfere on either side.

Derek had started with Lydia, who had brought the wine--she insisted that no holiday meal was complete, or possibly survivable, without it. Stiles had made a series of arguments ranging from the pointlessness of trying to get werewolves pleasantly relaxed with anything under 50% ABV to the whole underage drinking problem, but Derek had just shrugged and said, "You're all spending the night, wine with dinner won't hurt anyone," and Lydia had looked triumphant and slightly evil.

Stiles hadn't had a chance to get a closer look at what they were going to be drinking, since he'd been coordinating the cooking, and he didn't get much of a look when Derek leaned over him to pour a glass. He focused mostly on not making eye contact with anyone else at the same time he refrained from playfully groping Derek. He was busy eating. There was an alarming amount of food, even for teenagers and werewolves.

Derek disappeared into the kitchen to get rid of the empty bottle, but he came back a few seconds later and stood behind Stiles's chair. Stiles twisted around to watch him, and Derek looked down at him even though he couldn't see, tilting his head and smiling slightly in question.

"No," Stiles said firmly. "No lurking behind me while I eat, Derek. Sit down."

Derek obeyed, sort of, sitting down on the floor next to Stiles's chair. Stiles glanced down the table and realized that there wasn't actually anywhere else for Derek to sit. He'd known that, vaguely. Derek had told him that the "defeated" alpha was expected to serve the pack for as long as they allowed him to stay at the party.

Still, there was a lot of food, and it sucked that Derek didn't get to eat with the rest of the pack. On the other hand, Stiles was the alpha, so if he wanted Derek to eat it was probably up to him to do something about it. Stiles looked around the table--it was weird how far away from the others he felt here, at the head of the table, behind the red glasses. He couldn't help glancing down at Derek again as he thought it, realizing that being alpha was probably a little bit like this all the time. Derek had his face turned up toward Stiles, and smiled when Stiles looked at him, like he could feel Stiles's attention--smell his breath or hear his heart--

Stiles didn't want to think about what Derek might hear in Stiles's heartbeat. Instead he picked up a cherry tomato that had managed to get covered in both salad dressing and gravy and held it out toward Derek. "Here."

Derek didn't reach for it, like Stiles assumed he would; he leaned in and closed his mouth on it, and over the tips of Stiles's thumb and finger, and sucked it out of Stiles's grip. That left Stiles's hand hanging in the air and Stiles staring at Derek's mouth. He made another little irritated face as he chewed, whether because he'd been tricked into eating a vegetable or because of the weird combination of flavors, Stiles had no idea. Just when Stiles was about to decide to pretend he hadn't done that and get on with eating dinner, Derek swallowed visibly and whispered, "Thank you, alpha."

Stiles's mouth dropped open. He knew his heart was racing and that that was the least of what Derek--or any other werewolf in his immediate vicinity--was going to notice about Stiles's reaction.

Stiles looked up and saw that Scott was blushing to the tips of his ears and had pointedly turned in his chair to face Allison. She gave Stiles a smile over Scott's shoulder that looked a lot like the smile she'd had when she saw that Stiles didn't realize he was supposed to be solstice alpha. Stiles lost interest in polling the rest of the table at that point, because he knew it would only get worse from there.

He picked up a piece of turkey and held it toward Derek without saying anything, and Derek shifted onto his knees this time as he brought his mouth to Stiles's fingers. There was less suction this time but more tongue. Stiles exhaled unsteadily and tried to figure out if this was all some kind of setup--but the whole point of the solstice alpha was to humble the real alpha, not to play an unnecessarily elaborate practical joke on the fake one. This was the kind of insidious mind-fuck someone might resort to if they were actually under someone else's power, but Derek was only playing the role for a couple of hours tonight, and they all knew it. So that had to mean that he was playing the role the way he wanted to play it.

Stiles picked up a piece of tamale and offered it to Derek, who took it in delicate little bites from Stiles's hand and licked his fingertips clean when he finished. Stiles was actually, undeniably hard by the time Derek finished, and this was way out in left field from any fantasy he'd ever had; those involved Derek being pushy in actually pushy ways, not this weird, fake submissive seduction, which was confusingly hot and also just confusing. And impossible to ignore, no matter how hard the rest of the pack was working at it.

Stiles took a gulp of his wine and told himself he was going to stop torturing himself even as he picked up a fingerful of mashed potatoes.




By the time dinner was over, Stiles suspected that he had drunk not only his wine but also all of Scott's and Isaac's. He was feeling pleasantly warm and fuzzy and hardly freaked out at all about Derek still kneeling by his chair whenever he wasn't specifically fetching something for someone else at the table.

There wasn't really any amount of pleasantly buzzed--possibly no amount of drunkenness that did not lead to unconsciousness and then, shortly thereafter, death--that could have prepared him for the party games portion of the evening, though. Erica had been left to organize that, which was in hindsight an obvious and horrible tactical error. Stiles had figured Boyd would be in charge of reining her in, and instead Boyd just stood there and abetted her with a quiet smile, and that was how Pin the Tail on the Werewolf happened.

Derek was the werewolf in question. Stiles had the tail--no mere slip of paper, something heavy and worryingly lifelike, covered in black fur that was a creepily good match with Derek's hair--and the rest of the pack was responsible for trying to get Derek to stay still and get the tail put on. It started out with everyone standing around in the living room in a circle, with Derek at the center and Stiles hovering near one edge. He was just giving himself a don't grope him in front of the whole pack don't grope him in front of the whole pack oh god they can all smell you thinking about groping him pep talk when Isaac--Isaac! who Stiles trusted!--dove in and tickled Derek while Scott and Boyd were trying to get a good grip on his arms.

Derek leaped like a cat, turning a hundred and eighty degrees in the air while letting out a weirdly choked-off laughing snort. He managed to bounce off the ceiling and land outside the circle--aided by Lydia diving out of his way and knocking Jackson over as she did--and that was it, the hunt was on.

"Guys!" Stiles yelled, hopelessly, as five werewolves took off in hot pursuit of a sixth, "Guys, we just finished making it not a totally destroyed ruin in here, could we not--"

There was a series of thuds from somewhere above. Stiles looked over at Lydia and Allison, and they all shrugged and went back to the kitchen. There was another bottle of wine, and Stiles elected to go on not finding out exactly what it was. Allison collected their glasses from the dining room table and poured, and they all stood in the kitchen and listened.

"Attic," Stiles said at one point, when that particular creaky board sang out, and then there was the sound of the trapdoor and Allison said, "Roof."

They all looked out the kitchen windows, but none of the wolves came down to the ground outside. Maybe that was a rule Derek hadn't told Stiles; maybe they all had to stay inside the house the whole time. It would go along with Derek's insistence on all of them spending the night.

There was a small clatter of stuff hitting hard surfaces, and Lydia said, "Window into Jackson and Scott's bathroom."

Allison's mouth twisted like she knew exactly what had gotten knocked off the windowsill, but she just took another sip of wine and went on listening.

Glass crashed upstairs, sounding close, and Stiles set his glass down and edged out into the foyer to watch Derek leap down from the balcony while the rest of them thundered down the stairs, Lydia and Allison trailing cautiously after him. Derek turned toward them and then stopped short, recognizing them as an obstacle or just trying to keep from trampling them.

Either way, it was enough to get him caught. When the betas tackled Derek, Lydia and Allison jumped on, too. Stiles just stood there and watched for a while, appreciating the laughter and yelling, hoping that that would sink into the freshly-repaired-and-painted walls like the smoke of happiness.

"Whoa," Stiles said, "whoa, I think I am actually kind of drunk, you guys."

"What was that?" Lydia yelled, and it occurred to Stiles that Lydia was a little bit drunk, too, and that it was nice having other humans around. "You need us to give you access to Derek's ass?"

"No, I take it back," Stiles said. "I am only hanging out with werewolves forever now."

Erica just looked up and smiled at him, and Stiles remembered that he didn't even have to talk to embarrass himself in front of the wolves. His entire social life was a hopeless catastrophe. Then the whole mass of them went still in a way that Stiles realized meant that Derek, underneath all seven of them, had stopped fighting.

"Here you go," Scott said, "Come on, perfect spot for the tail, man. Get him."

Stiles looked down and realized he was in fact still holding the stupid tail. He climbed up onto the pile of werewolves, and stared down for a second at Derek's ass in tight jeans, neatly framed by the arms and legs holding him down, so Stiles couldn't see anything else. Then he jabbed the sticky end of the fake tail right into the middle of it, square on the seam of his jeans, and before he even let it go the thing moved.

Stiles shrieked and tried to jump straight into the air like a cat, which didn't work very well due to lack of werewolf muscles and also being kind of drunk. The rest of the werewolves scattered, shoving him upright in the process, and Erica was not only giggling evilly but holding a remote control.

Derek just lay on the floor for a minute with a wagging tail sticking straight up from his ass, looking totally defeated. Eventually he pushed up to his feet and looked around, still blindfolded, before he said expressionlessly, "I hate all of you."

Three different camera-phone shutter sounds went at once, and Derek heaved a sigh, shoulders drooping. Stiles walked over and tugged curiously at the tail, but it stayed attached to his pants. The shutter sound went again and Stiles realized that he had just had his picture taken with his arm around Derek and one hand on his ass. He leaned into Derek's shoulder, surrendering to the inevitability of incriminating photos, and yelled out, "Next we're playing a nice quiet game with no property damage."




Stiles lasted through about an hour of Derek perching behind him on the back of the couch while Stiles took on the rest of the pack (broken into teams: Scott and Allison, Jackson and Lydia, and Erica, Boyd, and Isaac) at Millennium Edition Trivial Pursuit. The game wouldn't have presented a problem even if Stiles had been a lot drunker, but Derek kept leaning in and whispering helpful facts about hockey and pop culture Stiles didn't remember from when he was eight. Every so often Erica would make Derek's tail wag and Derek would sigh sadly against the back of Stiles's neck. Stiles kept getting more sober and more aware of the way Derek's lips didn't quite touch his ear and the way Derek was keeping Stiles between himself and the rest of the pack like he wanted to be protected from them. Or maybe he just liked being plastered up against Stiles's back.

"Okay, enough," Stiles said, after Derek whispered, "Tom Hanks," and Stiles realized that he never wanted to associate being that turned on with those words. Stiles stood up and turned to face Derek, reminding himself that this was part of the plan, and said, "I've had it, man, I thought it would be okay to keep you around as a beta, but this just isn't working. I'm kicking you out of the pack."

Derek made a sad little frowny face and his tail drooped decisively. "Oh. You're--no one wants me to stay?"

"We could use someone to wash the dishes," Scott pointed out, before Stiles had time to worry that this part was going to go really badly off-script. "He'd probably be good at that."

"He'd just break them," Jackson said scornfully. "He couldn't even carry food right, he left me and Isaac to do all of that."

"And he broke that light fixture," Isaac added, shaking his head. "I liked that one."

"Awww, but he's so nice to play with," Erica said, waggling the remote control, and Boyd snatched it out of her hand.

"Definitely out," Boyd said, wrapping an arm firmly around Erica.

"Out," Stiles agreed, and grabbed Derek by the arm, yanking him down from the couch and leading him, unresisting, toward the front door. The rest of the pack closed in behind them, but this time they didn't shove or tackle Derek, just herded him along as Stiles dragged him through the house and out to the porch.

Derek didn't dig in his heels until they were on the porch, and then he wrapped himself around Stiles and whispered, "If you let me stay I'll make it worth your while, alpha."

Stiles groaned and shook his head as he gave Derek one last shove. Derek made a big, showy leap down the front steps, landing in a roll on the ground and then popping back up to his feet. He looked back at them for a minute in the light spilling out of the house--still blindfolded, still with that ridiculous tail hanging off his ass--and then he turned and ran.

"Yeah," Stiles yelled after him, because, really, he had to say it once. "I'm the alpha now!"


On to Part 2

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
bibliokat
Dec. 16th, 2012 07:37 am (UTC)
O M G

This is hilarious and HOT and everything wonderful including Star Wars trivia and playful werewolves! I am literally clutching my face with glee (sleeping roommate)!

I'm scared to read the second part as I might explode into tiny bits of sheer joy.
dsudis
Jan. 6th, 2013 02:53 am (UTC)
Ahahaha, yay! Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it! :D
kcs_slayve
Jan. 3rd, 2013 10:42 pm (UTC)
A fun read.

Thanks.
dsudis
Jan. 6th, 2013 02:53 am (UTC)
Thank you back!
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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