Oliver skipped the bottom few steps leading down into his basement lair, his patrol for the night finished. It had been a quiet night, things finally having settled down since the glades earthquake. The whole week had been reasonably quiet, and if he was honest with himself, Oliver was grateful for the rest. It had been a busy year, especially the last few months.

During his patrol Quentin Lance had called him, wanting to discuss the drop in crime rate, pondering if the fact that there now wasn't a werewolf pack in residence in Starling city had anything to do with it. The surviving members of Constiablo's pack had all gone their own ways (almost all of them having tried to escape Iron Heights the first full moon after their capture, with quite a few being shot and killed during their attempted escape.) Still, Oliver had kept close to Felicity, Stiles and their dad after the full moon night, up until the day that Stiles and John went back to Beacon Hills, where they could be protected by the rest of the pack, just in case any of the betas got the idea to come after Stiles and his family.

Since Stiles and John had left Starling City, Oliver had looked for any obvious signs of werewolf activity, but he hadn't seen anything, although he was no expert on werewolves, and didn't exactly know what he was looking for. Nothing suspicious had occurred, though, so he guessed that it was a good sign that, for the moment, Starling City was werewolf free.

The basement was quiet. Diggle was quietly examining their first aid supplies, a notepad in front of him so he could write down anything they needed. Oliver watched him for a moment, until Diggle raised his eyes up to him, and pressed his finger to his lips, pointing at the couch that Oliver had tucked into a corner of the room.

Felicity was stretched out on the couch, obviously sound asleep. The last few weeks had been especially hard on her, and now that the crisis appeared to be over, Felicity's body had demanded that she try and catch up on the lost hours of sleep. It wasn't the first time Felicity had crashed on the couch in the basement, and Oliver didn't blame her. He knew that, even before Stiles had come to Starling City, she hadn't been sleeping well, and things had only gotten worse for her after her brother was kidnapped, tortured, and shot. Felicity had been running purely off adrenalin and a couple of three or four hour long naps for over a month, and Oliver was a little surprised that she hadn't succumbed to exhaustion before now.

Still, if Oliver had learned anything in the last few months, it had been to not underestimate Felicity, or members of her family. Oliver was quiet as he out his hood and his bow and quiver of arrows away, before he approached the couch and picked up the throw rug that was draped over the pack of it, spreading it instead over Felicity. It was still summer, and the night was warm, but the underground basement was protected from the heat of the day, although as a result it became very cool in the nights.

Felicity stirred when Oliver draped the blanket over her, mumbling something that Oliver didn't quite hear and shifting beneath the blankets, before she dozed off again. Oliver gently brushed Felicity's hair back from her face with a soft smile on his face, before he turned and headed over to Diggle.

"How long has she been asleep for?" Oliver asked quietly. Diggle glanced at his watch.

"Not long, about twenty minutes or so, she looked pretty wiped out though. Stiles called her while you were gone."

"How's he doing?" Oliver asked, thinking of the teenager, somebody else he had underestimated. He'd been fairly certain that the teenager would have died from his injuries, but he'd been wrong, Stiles had fought back, and looked like he was, physically, going to make a full recovery.

"He's okay," Diggle smiled, "he was annoyed because his dad, Scott's mom and Derek wouldn't let him go swimming with the others; he had to sit and watch."

"Sounds like he's almost back to normal, and that they've been able to have a bit of a break from things," Oliver offered.

"They needed it. I swear, all of those kids are going to end up with PTSD, if they don't have it already," John sighed sadly, "I told Felicity that it seemed like Stiles was going well physically, and she told me that her stepdad called her earlier. Stiles isn't sleeping through the night, and Scott's spent every night ever since Stiles got back at their house, in case Stiles has a nightmare, which he has been doing every night. Poor kid wakes up screaming most of the time."

"It'll take time," Oliver reasoned, "You know that."

Diggle nodded and sighed, going back to his checking of the first aid supplies. Oliver himself knew how long it might take. He himself still woke up yelling from a nightmare about the island sometimes, or more recently about the quake, but he was sleeping better than he had been on the island, and Oliver considered that to be an improvement.

In part, Oliver knew that those he was closest to, Felicity and Diggle, and Thea, had played a significant role in helping him recover. Felicity was, most of the time, the only person he had ever met that saw him as the person he was, who saw through his mask and the hood and the irresponsible playboy act and saw the man he was beneath. She was the one person that he really trusted, that he felt he could be himself with. Ever since he'd come back from the island, she'd been the only one who had been able to bring him back into the light, and the only one who'd been able to chase away his demons when they tried to drag him back into the darkness. She was his anchor, the light in the dark, the flickering candle that refused to go out, no matter what happened, no matter how he wronged her.

The thing was, he couldn't risk letting how he felt about Felicity develop into anything more, no matter how much he might wish it could. It was too dangerous; he had too many enemies, both as Oliver Queen, and as the Vigilante. None of them would think anything of hurting Felicity in order to get to him. For a long time Oliver had been convinced that his connection to Felicity had been the reason Stiles had been taken, up until he'd learned of what Stiles had been involved with back in Beacon Hills.

Stiles' kidnapping had only highlighted, to Oliver how defenceless the everyday citizens of the world were. Felicity was just as vulnerable as Stiles, and it had been a bullet, not a werewolf claw, that had almost ended the teenager's life. Next time (and Oliver had no doubt that he and his team would be thrust into another dangerous situation soon), it could be Felicity that was bleeding out on the ground.

The very thought of loosing Felicity was enough to make Oliver wish that he had died with Sara when the Queen's Gambit went down, his duty to Starling City be damned.

TW/A

Derek leaned casually against one of the new support columns holding up the roof covering the wrap around veranda that encircled the newly rebuilt Hale house, watching as Scott, Jackson, Isaac, Erica and Boyd wrestled in the grass in front of the building.

Lydia and Danny were perched on the bench swing that Derek had put up, both of them immersed in books that Stiles had found useful when he was searching for information about the supernatural. They weren't looking for anything in particular, just reading information that Stiles had already committed to memory

Stiles himself was sitting at Derek's feet, on the front steps of the house, fiddling with a pen. He had been looking over an essay that Scott had written for summer school, checking for any obvious spelling and grammar mistakes, and just generally making sure what Scott had written actually made sense. There weren't many marking on the essay, so Derek guessed that Stiles hadn't found too much to pick up on.

Internally, Derek was thankful that Scott had brought his essay with him for Stiles to check over. It had given the teenager something to do while the others trained and ran around together. Stiles still wasn't allowed to do sport of any kind, according to both his doctors in Starling City and Beacon Hills. It would be another week or so before Stiles would be able to drive his beloved Jeep again, much to Stiles' disgust.

Today it had been the Sherriff who had dropped Stiles off at Derek's house with a gentle hug and a reminder to stay safe, that he wasn't fully healed yet. The reminder had not only been directed at Stiles, but Scott and Derek as well, a warning that Stiles still needed to be treated gently.

Melissa was the same whenever she dropped Scott and Stiles off, directly addressing the pack when she told them all to be gentle with Stiles, much to Stiles' embarrassment. Jackson had laughed, but they had all taken heed of the request. Stiles was treated with the utmost care, as if he might shatter at the slightest knock or accidental bump.

Derek could tell being treated like he was so fragile was getting to Stiles. While he hadn't ever trained with the werewolves, aside from lacrosse, he'd never been coddled by them either. Erica had even knocked him out and dumped him in a dumpster before. Stiles simply wasn't used to the special treatment, and he didn't like it.

Inhaling, Derek could smell how bored, and somewhat lonely, Stiles felt, the boy's emotions seeping out thorough his pores and altering his natural scent. It wasn't the first time Derek had smelled how lonely Stiles felt when he wasn't able to be involved with the rest of the others. It had only been a few days since the pack had all gone out to the lake in the middle of the forest for a swim. Stiles, naturally, hadn't been allowed to go into the water because he still had his stiches, so he had watched from the shoreline, joined by whichever members of the pack were having a break from swimming.

Honestly, it was surprising Stiles had lasted so long without feeling excluded from the pack. Helping rebuild the house had been a good distraction. Derek and the others had already started working on rebuilding and renovating the Hale house when Stiles had been kidnapped, and all of the plans had been put on hold until their return.

By the time Stiles had recovered enough for him to come out to see how things were going, the majority of the difficult jobs that required werewolf strength had been done, leaving tasks that either required qualified tradespeople, like plumbers and electricians, or which they could all do, like painting the interior walls and hanging curtains.

It had taken over a week, with the entire pack helping, to paint the walls and ceilings of the new house, and the day spent out at the lake in the woods had actually happened because they had to leave all of the paint to dry for over 24 hours. Now though, it was all done, the windows and doors all wide open to give the house a chance to air out before evening set in. Once the carpets and wooden floorboards were laid, the house would be finished. The only reason Derek hadn't done the floor covering before now was because he'd wanted the pack to be involved, and knowing his pack, there was bound to be a lot of mess.

As much fun as painting Derek's house had been for the pack, Derek had been right. It had been a very messy experience, although he couldn't bring himself to care. The pack had all been genuinely happy, for the first time ever. Jackson had whined a little at first, but even he'd been quietly enjoying the activity and spending time with his new pack. Even Scott, who had been quiet and withdrawn when Stiles wasn't there, came out of his shell, chatting and joking with the other betas, building up pack ties and connections and solidifying his position as Derek's second.

Stiles appeared to have revelled in being useful after weeks spent in bed, both in Beacon Hills and Starling City, his laughter and ceaseless chatter filling the house with noise. Derek knew, from the worried looks Scott would send towards Stiles, and from the occasional surge of panic or fear in the teenager's scent, that Stiles hadn't fully gotten over what had happened in Starling City, but he was improving, with the support of the pack.

For the first time since the fire, Derek felt as though he really belonged to a pack. When it was just him and Laura they had been a pack, but it had been different, since it had just been the two of them, against the world. Now, the Hale pack numbered almost as large as it did before the fire. There had been fifteen in the pack back then, both werewolf and human. Now, not counting Allison, Chris, Melissa or John, Derek had a definite pack of nine, plus Peter, if he felt inclined to join and Derek decided to let him, although he hadn't quite decided what he was going to do about his uncle yet. Derek had been too worried about dealing with Gerard and Jackson, rebuilding his family's home for his pack, rebuilding his ties with Erica and Boyd, and then finding and saving Stiles to worry about dealing with Peter and his smug grin.

Shifting his weight, Derek glanced away from his wrestling betas, where Scott had just pinned Jackson face down in the dirt, down at Stiles, who was grinning at his best friend. Derek sat down on the step beside Stiles, making sure to keep a little distance between them. John might have accepted the idea of Derek and Stiles being together, but Derek hadn't felt the time was right to instigate anything. Stiles was still getting over significant trauma after all.

"Scott looks happy," Stiles commented as Scott let Jackson up and began gesturing excitedly to Isaac.

Derek nodded in agreement, "They all do."

"You've done a good job, Derek. Yeah, you kind of sucked as an alpha at first, but I think you've got the hang of it now." Sties told Derek. Derek fought the urge to grin, knowing that Stiles was right.

"I'm glad you think so. Are you happy?"

Stiles shrugged, "I'm alive," he told Derek, "and I suppose that should be enough, but I don't like being stuck on the sidelines so much. I mean, I'm not the most active of people, but I've so much time using my laptop since I got back I think I'm getting carpal tunnel in my wrist. I love my laptop, don't get me wrong, but...but I hate being so restricted by what I can do. I'm not even allowed to drive my jeep anywhere."

Has helping with the house helped?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, it was fun. I think I was at the point that cleaning out the cages at Deaton's would have been good, as long as I was out of the house, but I actually really enjoyed it. It was good spending time together when our lives aren't in danger, for a change."

"It's part of being a pack," Derek reasoned, remembering a lesson his mother had once told him, what seemed like eons ago, "Yes, I've been telling them that being a pack means being there when it's all gone to hell, watching each other's backs and looking after one another and protecting the pack from threats, but it's also about spending time together when there isn't a threat. It's about maintaining the pack bonds; it's about unity and becoming a sort of family. You laugh together, you eat together, you celebrate together, and you love together."

"You seriously expect Jackson and Scott to get along like they're brothers?" Stiles asked as Jackson launched himself at Scott and their fight resumed, this time with Jackson looking like he would be the victor.

Derek grinned, quirking his eyebrow thoughtfully.

"Well...brothers do tend to fight a lot...they're not all as close as you and Scott are."

Stiles laughed, his eyes lighting up in amusement, and Derek's smile grew even more at seeing Stiles so happy. Yes, he had a long way to go, but Derek and the pack would be there for him.

Stiles would be his usual, annoying, loud self soon enough

And Derek couldn't wait.

TW/A

Felicity hid her smile behind her hand as she watched Oliver on the salmon ladder, his shirt draped over the back of a vacant chair. Diggle was attending one of his nephew's baseball matches, and other than the clanging of the salmon ladder bar, the lair was quiet.

It was the weekend, and she had taken advantage of not having to head into Queen Consolidated to update and install the software of the computers in the basement. Oliver was using his time to work out, so, while the computers were updating, Felicity had figured she would just sit back and enjoy the view of Oliver's bare chest. She could see his muscles working beneath his skin, beneath the scars that covered a considerable amount of the skin there.

Felicity had always enjoyed watching Oliver work out, and the salmon ladder was her favourite piece of his equipment. Her desk was well positioned to allow her to watch without being obvious.

"God, I like watching you do that," Felicity said to herself dreamily.

"I'm glad you approve," Oliver grunted, swinging up another notch. Felicity gulped

"I said that aloud, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Oliver told her, grunting as he swung the bar up to the topmost notch, before he started to descend. Felicity gulped, her cheeks colouring in embarrassment at being caught ogling Oliver's bare chest.

Oliver flipped off the bar, landing in a crouch on the ground, before he straitened to his full height and reached for his towel, wiping his sweaty arms, hands, chest and shoulders, before drying off his hair.

"I was just, er, watching you while the updates were installing," Felicity explained, carefully avoiding looking at Oliver's bare chest by focusing on his face. In response Oliver lifted an eyebrow, and Felicity swallowed.

"Did I ever thank you, for what you did for Stiles and John and Stiles' friends," Felicity hastily said, trying to change the subject, turning in her chair to check how much longer the computers had to go. She missed the smile that flickered across Oliver's face at the attempt.

"Yes, you did. Its okay, Felicity, it was the least I could do."

"I mean, you didn't have to though, officially we barely know each other, and it wasn't like Stiles' abduction had anything to do with this," Felicity gestured at the basement, "As far as the world out there knows, I'm just a Queen Consolidated employee, and you're, well, Oliver Queen. The only connection is that I work for your company." Felicity babbled.

"You're my friend, Felicity, one of my closest friends" Oliver told her, his expression serious, "Of course I was going to help look after your brother, and make sure that you family and his friends had somewhere to stay so they could be close to him and look after him too."

"I know, and you're one of my closest friends too. You and Diggle are my best friends. You guys have given me something else to focus on when I was grieving over Laura and worrying about Walter, and then you turn around and help look after my brother. You're a good person Oliver, perhaps the best person I've ever met." Felicity replied.

"There would be a lot of people who would disagree with you," Oliver pointed out.

"Well, they don't know you...the real you that came back from the island, and not the mask you put on for everyone else," Felicity smiled, "I see what you're like when you're not being the vigilante, and you're not trying to hide how much you've changed from the world, and that man, the man that I see, he is a good man.

"How do you know that?" Oliver asked, and Felicity's breathing caught in her throat slightly at the tone Oliver was using. It was darker, almost like the deep growl that he used when he was transitioning into the vigilante.

"Because only a good man would have done what you did for a kid he barely knew, for a girl that, according to most, is so far outclassed by you that you shouldn't even know she exists."

"I don't outclass you. If anything, you outclass me. You are by far the most intelligent person I have ever met."

"Oliver, look at our society. Beauty and brawn are considered to be far more important than intelligence, even ignoring the fact that you grew up in Queen Mansion, Starling City, and I grew up in a three bedroom house in a little town in northern California."

"It doesn't mean we can't be friends," Felicity," Oliver pointed out, "My family and those they associate with, they aren't the ones who rule my life. I am free to make my own choices as to who my friends are, and you and Diggle are right at the top of that list."

Felicity swallowed, knowing that, up until a couple of months ago, Tommy had been Oliver's best friend, and would have been at the very top of Oliver's figurative friend speech. Now he was dead, and, like her, Oliver had lost his childhood best friend, never to see them, or hear the sound of their voice again.

"See," Felicity smiled after a pause, "you are a good man."

Oliver's eyes narrowed slightly, "no, I'm not." He argued.

"Why do you think you're not a good man?" Felicity protested.

"Because, despite everything that's happened, To Sara and to Laurel and to Tommy, I continue to put people in danger by spending time with them. It's only going to be a matter of time before you or Diggle get hurt because of your work with me, and then I'll have your blood on my hands too. I shouldn't let people get close to me; it only puts them in danger. It only makes them a target for my enemies."

Felicity felt herself crumble at Oliver's words, seeing the fear over something happening to her and Diggle on his face. She reached out, resting a hand gently on his shoulder, before she carefully stepped closer, moving slowly to avoid startling Oliver, as if he were a wild animal, like a wolf.

Felicity grinned inwardly at the idea of a werewolf Oliver, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the man in front of her, the cracks in his facade wide open for her to see. Once she was close enough, Felicity rested her head over Oliver's heart, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. Beneath her, she felt Oliver tense, before he slowly began to relax.

"My mom always used to say that hugs could fix any wound. Physical, mental, emotional, it doesn't matter. They always make you feel better," Felicity told Oliver calmly as Oliver breathed deeply, his arms encircling around her back and hugging her back.

"Your mom was a smart person; you must have inherited her mind."

"She was better with people than I ever could be," Felicity disagreed, remembering how many friends her mother had, and how she'd loved spending time talking to them. Felicity was quieter and more introverted, happiest when she was alone or with small groups of people.

"I think you're better with people than you think," Oliver said, and Felicity felt her cheeks go red again as she looked up at Oliver, who was looking down at Felicity with a grim smile on his face.

"I...I care about you, Felicity, more than you ever know, but I can' let myself act on it, it's too risky. If I lost you I don't know what I would do. Do you understand?"

Felicity's heart leaped into her throat, and she forcibly swallowed it back down. She'd understood Oliver perfectly. He cared about her, maybe even loved her, but he wouldn't act on it because of the risk involved. Felicity suddenly thought of how Stiles had looked in his hospital bed, that first night after he was admitted, so close to death, but still clinging onto life. She thought of Laura, lying on the forest floor, killed by her uncle's hand, she thought of Tommy, impaled and dying in Oliver's arms, she thought of Sara Lance, sucked into the swirling water of the North China Sea as the Queen's Gambit sank.

She thought of Laura and Derek's family trapped in the basement while the rest of the house burned around them, slowly suffocating to death. She thought of her own mother, dying in a hospital bed with only her seven year old son at her bedside, holding her hand as the disease that had ravaged her body took her into death's arms. She thought of Oliver, trapped on the Island for five years, torn from the city and the life he had grown up in, forced to change in order to survive.

"Yes," she told Oliver, "I understand. The thing is, I care about you to, and if something happened to you I would literally go out of my freaking mind. Life is fragile and short, and you can't protect me from anything. I could get into a car accident on my way home tonight, or I could get cancer like my mom did. I could get killed by someone who we haven't even heard of. We're never going to completely wipe out all of the criminals in Starling City. We might lower the numbers a bit, but we'll never get them all."

Oliver's grip tightened on Felicity as she spoke, as if, by hugging her tighter, it would protect her from any of the things she mentioned from happening, even though he couldn't.

"The way I see it," Felicity continued, despite the grip Oliver had on her, "you only live once, and what's the point of living if you're scared of what might happen. A life lived in fear is a life half-lived, and all that."

Felicity broke off, even though she wasn't entirely done on her tirade, because Oliver's lips were on her own, and they were kissing.

She, Felicity Megan Smoak, was kissing Oliver Queen. Unable to stop herself, Felicity kissed back, feeling Oliver's tongue brush her lips as it entered her mouth. She moved her right hand, from between Oliver's shoulders to the back of his head so she could grab his hair, still damp with sweat.

Once they broke apart Felicity took a moment to get her breathing back to normal, Oliver resting his forehead against her own.

"Well, that was a new way to stop me from babbling. I have to say, I like it." Felicity said once she'd regained her breath, and Oliver laughed, brushing a strand Of Felicity's hair back behind her ear as Felicity looked up at him through her glasses.

Oliver kissed the tip of her nose with a affectionate smile "You're remarkable, Felicity Smoak"

"Thank-you for remarking on it, Oliver Queen." Felicity replied with a smile to match, before she tilted her head up and kissed Oliver, this time taking her turn to initiate the kiss.

Neither of the pair noticed Diggle disappearing back up the stairs that lead into Verdant, having witnessed almost the entire exchange, a broad smile plastered across his face.

TW/A

"Scott! Scott! Scott! Scott!" Stiles yelled as he threw himself out of the jeep and bolted across the cleared area at the front of the rebuilt Hale house, almost throwing himself into Scott's arms where the other teenager stood.

"What?" Scott asked in confusion, the rest of the pack looking on as Stiles almost danced around Scott, his scent filled with excitement and happiness.

"Dude, so picked it. Felicity and Oliver are together, like, officially." Stiles told Scott, almost jumping up and down in excitement. Felicity had told him and their dad about the relationship, via Skype, less than an hour ago, and Stiles was ecstatic. Oliver would be good for Felicity, and Stiles had seen how much the man had been devoted to his sister. Stiles knew Felicity needed someone who cared that much for her in her life.

"What?" Scott, Lydia and Jackson exclaimed all at the same time.

"I know, right? How long has it been since Felicity has had a boyfriend in her life?'

Scott frowned and shrugged, "I don't know, you haven't mentioned any since the guy you kicked in the balls."

"Oh my God...imagine me having to do that to Oliver freaking Queen!" Stiles said, terror replacing the excitement on his face, "He'd kick my ass...you might need to do it, or maybe Derek...or the entire pack"

"Yes please," Erica said dreamily, and Isaac, Jackson and Boyd all shot scathing looks at the blonde.

"What...its Oliver freaking Queen," Erica defended, "have you seen his abs, or hell, his ass? I would kick him in the nuts just so I could say that I touched him there."

"You're not allowed to touch him unless he hurts my sister, Erica," Stiles scolded, trying and failing, to get the idea of Oliver Queen's bum out of his head. Yeah, it was good, but Stiles thought that Derek's abs and bum were better.

Not that he would ever say that in front of the pack.

"Stiles, dude, snap out of it," Scott waved his hand in front of Stiles face, and Stiles shook his head, obviously having zoned out on Scott and the rest of the pack.

"Sorry, I forgot to take my Adderal today; I'll take it when I get inside."

"Oh God, that means we have to put up with you without the drugs until they kick in?" Jackson whined, and Lydia slapped him in the arm.

"Shut up, Jackson," Erica glared, "Don't pick on my Batman, or I'll leave you two alone."

"One of them would end up dead," Lydia pointed out.

"I'm not sure which one it would be though, Stiles or Jackson," Danny teased, and Scott snorted loudly as Jackson glared at Danny, while Stiles glared at Jackson

"Of course it would be me, obviously." He told the rest of the group as Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles knew that Derek was regretting building his pack out of teenagers, but it had been his own fault. He hadn't needed to choose Erica, Boyd and Isaac (although their lives had almost certainly gotten better since they'd been bitten, ignoring the danger they would now be in for the rest of their lives).

"I thought you all wanted to christen the new den?" Derek asked eventually, obviously over the sound of the pack's bickering. The slightest hint of red in Derek's eye told the teenagers that he meant business, so they all headed into the house, Scott and Stiles grabbing Stiles' pillow and bag from the jeep.

It was the last week of summer holidays for the pack, so Derek had offered the new house as the location for a pack bonding session to mark the end of the school holidays. It wasn't the first time they'd had a pack night, but it was the first time they'd been able to do it at the rebuilt Hale house. The previous times had always been at Lydia, Jackson or Scott's houses.

Stiles followed Scott into the house, his pillow in his arms, and smiled, loving how safe he felt within the walls. Every single one of them had been involved in its construction, and it felt like it belonged to the whole pack, and not just Derek. It might only have Derek's name on the paperwork, but it had been designed with the pack in mind, somewhere where they could train, plan, relax and spend time together. Stepping into the den, Stiles' smile only grew. Lydia had been put in charge in the decorating, although Derek had kept an eye on her at first to make sure she didn't go overboard. Lydia, though, had proved herself to be very good at it. The furniture and decorations were all simple, practical but yet they still looked good. It suited all of the pack, even though individually they were all so different.

Somebody had pushed all the furniture back, like they had the last night they'd all been in Starling City together, to make room for mattresses and blankets. Stiles dropped his pillow on a mattress, and sat down on it, going slow to avoid pulling on his barely healed injuries. Scott three him his adderal bottle, and Stiles took his prescribed dose, swallowing it dry before he threw the bottle back, thankful that he was finally off all of his painkillers.

"The notebook," Lydia announced, holding the DVD case up and walking towards the TV that the pack had pushed Derek into buying, and Jackson groaned, flopping back onto another mattress, his arms over his eyes,

"Not again,"

"You love me," Lydia shrugged, putting the movie on, before she snuggled down beside Jackson.

Outside rain began to fall, pattering against the roof of the house, as Erica and Boyd brought in some bowls of popcorn, before joining the rest of the pack on the mattresses, Erica's head lying on Boyd's chest. Scott, having run Stiles' bag up to his room, dropped carefully down beside Stiles, and Isaac curled into Stiles' other side. Danny leaned up against the couch, with Jackson's head and Erica's foot on his lap. Stiles blinked, watching the movie as it started playing on the screen.

"Come on, Sour wolf, the puppies are never going to settle if you never join in on the puppy pile," he said without even looking at Derek, knowing the haunted look that would be on Derek's face as the older man tried to resist the temptation, and his inner wolf's desire, to join his pack.

Stiles didn't hear Derek move, but he felt the mattress on Isaac's other side as Derek sat down, Isaac shifting so that his head was in Derek's lap. Derek hands rested on the mattress beside him, close to where stiles was lying, and he reached out and impulsively took on in his own hand, biting his lip anxiously when Derek stiffened and looked at their joined hands before his gaze trailed up Stiles' arm to his face.

Looking up at Derek, Stiles gave a small smile and began sheepishly letting go of Derek's hand. He stopped, however, when Derek's grip on his hand tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough that Stiles felt the change, and then Stiles saw the barest hint of a smile on Derek's face, before he tore his eyes away from Stiles, looking instead at the TV screen.

Stiles glanced at their still entwined hands, and beamed, before he settled down into his pillow.

Before he left Beacon Hills, he would never have guessed that, by the end of summer, the pack's dynamics would have changed so much. Six months ago they all barely knew each other, and rarely even spoke to one another. Three months ago, the pack mostly didn't like each other and certainly didn't trust one another. Now, they were cuddling up together and having pack movie nights in a house that they'd worked together to help build.

They were a pack, a family, united not by blood but by choice, love, friendship and the desire to protect one another.

Ned Stark didn't get a lot right, and Stiles thought that he stunk at politics, but Stiles knew he got one thing right.

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.