Archive of Our Own ^beta

The tension in the room was palpable as Stiles paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair, clearly agitated. Derek stood by the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, frustration evident in the hard lines of his jaw. They had been arguing for what felt like hours now, the usual bickering escalating into something neither of them had anticipated.

"You can't just go out there alone, Stiles," Derek growled, his voice rough and angry. "It’s dangerous. You could get killed."

Stiles shot him a sharp look, his eyes blazing. "I’m not some helpless kid anymore, Derek. I know what I'm doing! I’ve survived more crap than half your pack, and I did it without claws or fangs!"

"That’s the point!" Derek snapped, pushing off from the wall. "You’re human, Stiles! You don’t heal like the rest of us. You don’t have super strength. You can be killed."

Stiles froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Wow, Derek." His voice was low but laced with anger, cutting through the air like a knife. "So that’s what you really think? That I’m weak because I’m human?"

Derek hesitated, his anger faltering for a moment, but the words had already been said. Stiles shook his head, lips pressed into a tight line as he let out a bitter laugh. "Unbelievable."

He turned on his heel and headed toward the door, his movements sharp and purposeful. "You know, if that's how you see me, maybe this—" He gestured between them. "—was a mistake."

Derek reached out, his voice softening as regret crept in. "Stiles, wait—"

But Stiles wasn’t having any of it. He pulled the door open with force, turning back just once, his eyes blazing with hurt. "I’m not weak, Derek. Not by a long shot."

Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the loft, leaving Derek standing in the sudden silence, guilt sinking deep into his chest as he realized just how badly he had screwed up.

Stiles stormed through the front door of the house, slamming it shut behind him with a little more force than necessary. The sound echoed through the quiet home. Noah was in the kitchen, plating up dinner when he heard Stiles' heavy footsteps.

"You're home late," Noah said casually, glancing up from the stove as Stiles entered the room. But as soon as he saw the look on his son's face, his smile faltered. "What's wrong?"

Stiles slumped into a chair at the table, clearly still fuming. He ran a hand over his face and let out a frustrated sigh. "I need to get out of town," he muttered, not meeting his dad's eyes.

Noah frowned, setting the plates down in front of them. "What happened?" he asked carefully.

Stiles clenched his jaw, staring at the table as he spoke. "Derek... he yelled at me for being human. Like, that’s the big problem here, apparently. He actually said I could be killed because I don’t have his fancy wolf powers or whatever."

Noah's expression softened, concern written all over his face. He pulled out the chair across from Stiles and sat down. "He said that?"

"Yeah," Stiles muttered, feeling the anger and hurt rising again. "It’s like he thinks I’m too weak to handle anything because I’m not a werewolf. I just... I need to get away from here for a bit."

Noah was quiet for a moment, considering his son's words. "Where do you want to go?"

Stiles looked up, his eyes tired but determined. "Can I stay with Uncle Aaron for a while? I just need some space."

Noah studied him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, kid. I’ll call him." He reached for his phone and gave Stiles a small, reassuring smile. "We’ll get you out of here for a bit. Clear your head."

Stiles nodded, grateful for his dad’s understanding, though the weight of his argument with Derek still lingered heavily on his shoulders. As Noah dialed Aaron’s number, Stiles leaned back in his chair, trying to push the anger aside, but the sting of Derek’s words was still fresh.

Noah hung up the phone after a brief conversation with Aaron, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Aaron's good with it," he said, glancing at Stiles, who was still slumped at the table, tapping his fingers anxiously. "I’ll book a plane ticket for tonight."

Stiles nodded, grateful but still feeling the weight of everything that had happened. "Thanks, Dad."

Noah quickly pulled out his laptop and started typing, the clacking of the keys filling the otherwise quiet room. Stiles stared down at his hands, still replaying the argument with Derek in his head, each word cutting deeper the more he thought about it.

After a few minutes, Noah spoke again. "You’re all set. I got you a ticket for a late-night flight. You’ve got a few hours before you need to head to the airport." He glanced up at his son, his voice softening. "You sure this is what you want?"

Stiles looked up, his face a mixture of exhaustion and hurt. "Yeah. I just need some time away, you know? Clear my head. Derek… he said some things, and I don’t know how to deal with that right now."

Noah nodded, understanding. He’d seen Stiles go through a lot over the years, but something about this felt different, heavier. "I get it," he said gently. "But don’t forget—you’ve got people here who care about you. Derek included, even if he’s an idiot sometimes."

Stiles managed a small, humorless smile. "Yeah, well, maybe he needs to figure that out for himself."

Noah stood and walked over to his son, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You’re doing the right thing, taking time for yourself. And Aaron’s got your back, too. You’ll have a safe place to stay, and you’ll figure everything out when you're ready."

Stiles nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thanks, Dad. Really."

Noah squeezed his shoulder before stepping back. "Finish your dinner. We’ll pack your bags, and I’ll drive you to the airport when it’s time."

As Noah walked back to the kitchen to clean up, Stiles sat there for a moment, letting the weight of the decision sink in. He needed space. He needed clarity. And maybe, just maybe, getting out of Beacon Hills for a while would help him find both.

Stiles zipped up his duffel bag, glancing around his room one last time before slinging it over his shoulder. His mind raced, a mix of lingering frustration from the argument with Derek and the uncertainty of leaving town. He heard his dad’s voice call from downstairs.

"You ready, kid?"

Taking a deep breath, Stiles grabbed his jacket and made his way down. Noah was already waiting by the front door, car keys in hand, his expression calm but concerned. Stiles forced a small smile, trying to shake off the heaviness in his chest.

"Yeah, let’s go," Stiles said quietly, walking past his dad and out to the car.

Noah followed, locking the door behind them before they both climbed into the car. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was thick with unspoken thoughts. Stiles stared out the window, watching the familiar streets of Beacon Hills pass by as they drove to the airport.

His dad broke the silence first. "You sure you don’t want to talk about it?"

Stiles glanced over, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his jacket. "Not right now," he muttered. "I just need to get out of here before I say or do something I’ll regret."

Noah nodded, respecting his son’s need for space. "Alright. Just remember, this doesn’t have to be permanent. You can come back whenever you're ready."

Stiles nodded, though he wasn’t sure what his plan was. "Yeah, I know."

The rest of the drive was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. As they pulled up to the airport drop-off, Noah parked and turned to look at his son.

"You sure you’re okay?" Noah asked, his voice soft with concern.

Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’ll be fine, Dad. I just... need some time."

Noah gave him a small, understanding nod before reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Alright. Call me when you land, and if you need anything—anything at all—you let me or Aaron know, okay?"

Stiles nodded, grabbing his duffel bag from the back seat and stepping out of the car. He hesitated for a second before leaning back in to give his dad a quick hug. "Thanks for everything, Dad."

Noah hugged him back tightly, patting him on the back. "You take care of yourself, Stiles."

With that, Stiles turned and walked toward the airport entrance, his heart heavy but knowing he needed this break. As he glanced back one last time, he saw his dad still sitting in the car, watching him with that same worried expression. Stiles gave him a small wave before heading inside, hoping the time away would help him figure things out.

Stiles walked through the airport, following the signs toward his gate. The hustle and bustle of the terminal seemed distant as his mind remained focused on everything that had happened. He kept replaying the argument with Derek in his head, each word stinging as if it had just been said.

He reached the gate earlier than expected, glancing up at the board to see his flight status. "On time." At least something was going smoothly tonight.

Finding an empty seat near the window, Stiles sat down, dropping his bag at his feet. He pulled out his phone, hesitating for a moment before scrolling through his contacts. His thumb hovered over Derek’s name, but he couldn’t bring himself to send a message. Not yet.

With a sigh, Stiles put his phone away and leaned back in the chair, staring out at the planes on the tarmac. The announcement for his flight boarding echoed through the terminal a few minutes later, snapping him out of his thoughts. He stood up, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, and made his way to the line.

Handing over his ticket to the gate agent, Stiles took a deep breath. This was it—the first step to getting away, to clearing his head, to figuring out where things stood between him and Derek. The gate agent smiled and handed back his boarding pass. "Have a good flight."

Stiles nodded, though his mind was elsewhere, and made his way down the jet bridge. As he stepped onto the plane, the hum of the engines and the faint smell of stale air hit him. He found his seat by the window, tossing his bag into the overhead bin before sitting down.

He stared out of the window as passengers filed in, barely registering the sounds of conversations and luggage being shuffled into place. The plane began to fill up, and eventually, the door closed with a loud click. Stiles felt the slight jerk as the plane began to taxi down the runway.

As the engines roared to life and the plane lifted off the ground, Stiles felt the weight of everything he was leaving behind for the moment. The argument, the pain, the confusion—it all seemed a little smaller as the lights of Beacon Hills grew distant below him.

But despite everything, he couldn’t shake the thought of Derek from his mind. The further away he got, the more he wondered how things would look once he came back.

He leaned his head against the window, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "One step at a time," he muttered to himself, before closing his eyes and letting the quiet hum of the plane lull him into a much-needed rest.

As the plane touched down and taxied to the gate, Stiles slowly stirred awake, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. The flight had been quiet, but his mind hadn’t really rested. His heart still felt heavy from the argument with Derek, but the distance from Beacon Hills was already giving him some clarity. At least, he hoped so.

Grabbing his duffel from the overhead bin, Stiles made his way off the plane and into the bustling airport terminal. He glanced around for any sign of his uncle but instead caught sight of two guys standing near the exit, holding a whiteboard with his name scribbled on it. One was tall and built like a linebacker, the other lanky with messy hair. They were deep in conversation—or, more accurately, an argument. He could hear bits and pieces as he approached.

"I'm telling you, statistically speaking, it’s highly improbable," the lankier one said.

The bigger guy rolled his eyes. "Reid, not everything is about stats! Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts."

Stiles cleared his throat as he approached. "Hi," he said, raising his hand in a little wave.

Both men stopped mid-argument and turned to face him. The larger of the two gave him a broad smile. "Hey, you must be Stiles." He extended his hand. "I’m Derek Morgan. Your uncle Aaron sent us to pick you up."

The other guy, who Stiles now assumed was Spencer Reid, gave a polite nod. "And I’m Spencer. Nice to meet you."

"Uh, yeah, nice to meet you guys too," Stiles replied, shaking their hands. "Thanks for coming to get me."

Morgan chuckled. "No problem. Aaron’s a good guy, and he said you needed a little getaway. We're here to make sure you’re taken care of."

Stiles couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. Despite the chaos he’d left behind, at least these guys seemed like they had things under control. He motioned toward the exit. "Shall we?"

Morgan and Reid led him through the airport toward the parking lot, still bickering about whatever debate they had been caught up in before. Stiles followed, his duffel slung over his shoulder, trying to keep up with their conversation.

"So, your uncle said you’re staying with him for a bit?" Morgan asked, unlocking the car and popping the trunk.

"Yeah," Stiles said, tossing his bag in the back. "Just need some time away from home. Things got a little… complicated."

"Complicated, huh?" Morgan gave him a knowing look, but didn’t push for more.

Reid, meanwhile, opened the passenger door for Stiles. "If you need anything while you’re here, just let us know. We’ve got your back."

Stiles slid into the car, appreciating the offer. "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it."

As they drove away from the airport, the city lights fading behind them, Stiles let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Maybe this break would be what he needed after all.

Stiles sat in the backseat, the hum of the car's engine and the muted conversation between Morgan and Reid filling the space. He leaned his head against the window, staring out at the passing scenery, his mind wandering. It was strange being away from Beacon Hills, away from the constant chaos that surrounded his life.

As they passed through a busier part of the city, Stiles’ gaze flickered across the faces of people on the sidewalks—just random strangers going about their night. But then, out of nowhere, his breath caught in his throat. Among the sea of people, he saw a face he never expected to see again.

Blonde hair, sharp features, familiar eyes. Newt.

Stiles blinked, sitting up straighter, his heart racing. He hadn’t seen Newt in years, not since… well, it had been too long. The boy had been a part of his past, a part he thought he’d never see again. Stiles' heart pounded in his chest as memories of their time together flooded back. It couldn’t be him, could it? Newt was supposed to be… gone.

"Wait," Stiles muttered under his breath, his eyes glued to the figure on the street. He pressed his face against the window, trying to get a better look as the car continued to move forward. "No way…"

Morgan glanced into the rearview mirror, noticing Stiles’ sudden shift in posture. "You good back there?"

Stiles didn’t respond immediately, too focused on the boy who was quickly fading from view. "Can we—uh, can we turn around?" he asked, his voice tight with urgency. "I think I saw someone I know."

Morgan exchanged a glance with Reid, who furrowed his brow in confusion. "You sure? We’re almost at your uncle’s place," Morgan said.

"Yeah, I know, but—" Stiles ran a hand through his hair, feeling the surge of emotions building up. "I swear, I just saw someone I haven’t seen in years. A… friend. His name’s Newt."

Reid turned to look at Stiles, his curiosity piqued. "You’re certain it was him?"

Stiles hesitated, his mind racing. Could he really trust what he’d seen? It had been so long, and the memories were blurry. But something deep inside told him it was Newt. "I think so. I know it sounds crazy, but… I need to find out."

Morgan sighed, but he made a quick U-turn at the next intersection. "Alright, let’s go check it out."

As they backtracked down the street, Stiles' heart pounded with anticipation. He kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk, scanning the crowds of people. But when they finally reached the spot where he had seen Newt, the blonde boy was gone.

Stiles’ heart sank, disappointment washing over him. "I swear he was right there," he muttered under his breath.

Morgan pulled the car to a stop. "You want to look around for a bit?"

Stiles bit his lip, staring out at the sidewalk, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. "No," he finally said, leaning back into his seat. "It’s fine. I must’ve been imagining things."

Reid turned to face him. "Memories can be triggered by familiar surroundings or emotions. It’s possible seeing someone who resembled Newt brought back old feelings."

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles said quietly, but something in his gut told him it had really been Newt.

As they drove away, Stiles couldn’t shake the image of Newt’s face from his mind. If it had been him, then how? And why now, after all these years? His mind buzzed with questions, but for now, he kept them to himself, staring out the window as the city lights blurred into the night.

Morgan glanced back at Stiles through the rearview mirror. "You sure you're good?" he asked, his voice calm but concerned.

Stiles nodded, though his thoughts were miles away. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for turning around, though."

Reid, sitting in the passenger seat, observed Stiles with his usual analytical gaze. "It's not unusual to see familiar faces in unfamiliar places, especially when you're already dealing with emotional stress. The mind plays tricks sometimes."

Stiles let out a small, half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I just miss home more than I thought."

Morgan nodded and started driving again, heading toward Aaron’s place. The quiet hum of the engine filled the car, and Stiles leaned his head back against the seat, watching the buildings pass by. The familiar knot of anxiety began to creep up again—between the argument with Derek and now the strange sighting of Newt, he felt like everything was spinning out of control.

The drive wasn’t long, but it felt endless with Stiles’ thoughts racing. He stared out the window, thinking about the last time he’d seen Newt—back in a different life, a time when things were far more complicated than they were now. Could it really have been him? Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just a trick of the mind.

Soon enough, they pulled up to a modest house tucked away on a quiet street. Morgan parked the car, and the engine went silent.

"We’re here," Morgan announced.

Stiles blinked, snapping out of his thoughts as he stared up at his uncle Aaron’s house. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the front yard. It felt safe, grounded—a much-needed contrast to the chaos in his mind.

Reid turned around in his seat, giving Stiles a reassuring smile. "Your uncle's probably waiting inside. You ready?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, grabbing his duffel bag from the backseat. "Thanks again, guys."

Morgan gave him a nod. "No problem. You take care of yourself, alright? You’ve got our number if you need anything."

Stiles gave them a small smile before stepping out of the car, the cool night air hitting him as he closed the door behind him. He walked up the porch steps, his mind still swirling with thoughts of Derek, Newt, and everything in between. But for now, he was here, and that had to be enough.

He rang the doorbell, and within moments, the door opened to reveal his uncle Aaron, who smiled warmly at him. "Stiles, good to see you."

"Hey, Uncle Aaron," Stiles said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "Thanks for letting me crash here."

Aaron waved it off. "You're family. Come on in."

Stiles stepped inside, the warmth of the house immediately wrapping around him. Maybe this was exactly what he needed—a break from it all. But as he set his bag down and greeted his uncle, the image of Newt's face lingered in his mind, refusing to be forgotten.

As Stiles stepped into the house, Aaron led him into the living room, where a dim lamp cast a soft glow over the space. The familiar smell of home, mixed with the faint scent of coffee, helped ease some of the tension in Stiles’ shoulders, but not enough to drown out the storm in his mind.

Aaron gestured toward the couch. "Take a seat, Stiles. I’ll get you something to drink."

Stiles sank into the couch, tossing his duffel onto the floor beside him. He watched as Aaron disappeared into the kitchen, hearing the clinking of glasses and the sound of the fridge opening. He felt like a weight was pressing down on his chest, and despite the comfort of his uncle’s home, his thoughts kept dragging him back to that argument with Derek.

After a moment, Aaron returned with two glasses of water, handing one to Stiles before sitting down across from him. He leaned forward, his expression soft but concerned.

"You don’t have to talk about it," Aaron began, "but if you want to, I’m here. What happened back home?"

Stiles stared at the glass in his hands, the cool condensation sliding down his fingers. He wanted to talk, but the words felt heavy. The hurt was still fresh, and he wasn’t sure how to even begin explaining what had happened. How could he put into words the sting of Derek’s words? The feeling of being seen as weak by someone he cared about?

Aaron waited patiently, his eyes never leaving Stiles. "Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out."

Stiles let out a slow breath and finally spoke, though his voice was quiet. "It’s… it’s just Derek."

Aaron tilted his head slightly. "Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Stiles muttered, his voice bitter. "Or, at least, I thought so."

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Stiles' grip on the glass tightened. "We had a fight. It was stupid, really. But he… he called me weak." He looked up, his eyes flashing with anger and hurt. "He yelled at me, Aaron. Because I’m human. Because I can be killed."

Aaron’s expression hardened slightly. "He said that to you?"

Stiles nodded, his voice shaky. "Yeah. Like that’s all I am to him. Just some fragile human who’s always in danger. He thinks I’m weak because I can’t heal like him or fight like him." He shook his head, feeling the bitterness rise again. "I’ve been through enough, and he still sees me like I’m some… liability."

Aaron leaned back in his chair, taking in Stiles’ words. He didn’t interrupt, letting his nephew vent.

"I mean, I know I’m not like them," Stiles continued, his frustration bubbling over. "I’m not a werewolf or some supernatural powerhouse. But I’m still me, right? I’m still Stiles." He let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Guess that’s not enough for him."

Aaron sat forward, his expression serious. "It doesn’t matter what you are. Human or not, you’ve always been strong, Stiles. What you’ve been through… most people couldn’t handle. And anyone who can’t see that isn’t seeing the whole picture."

Stiles looked down, the words sinking in, but the hurt still lingered. "It’s just… I thought we were more than that, you know? That he saw me as more."

Aaron nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes people say things in anger that they don’t mean. Doesn’t excuse it, but it doesn’t mean it’s true either." He paused for a moment before adding, "But if he’s making you feel like you’re not enough, then that’s something you’ll have to decide if you want to live with."

Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t even know if I want to see him right now."

"You don’t have to," Aaron said gently. "You’re here now. You’ve got time to figure things out."

Stiles gave a small nod, grateful for the support, even if it didn’t ease all the pain. He knew Aaron was right. Being here, away from Beacon Hills and Derek, was what he needed right now. Time to think, time to breathe.

"Thanks, Aaron," Stiles said quietly. "For letting me stay and… for listening."

"Anytime," Aaron said, his voice warm. "You’re family. And you’re welcome here for as long as you need."

Stiles gave a weak smile, feeling a little lighter but still weighed down by everything that had happened. For now, he was safe, and that would have to be enough.

Stiles sat there for a moment, still processing everything, but then a thought crossed his mind. He set his glass down and looked at Aaron with a determined expression.

"Hey, Uncle Aaron," Stiles started, his voice steady, "I know I’m not like Derek or any of the supernatural stuff back home, but… I want to get stronger. Physically, I mean."

Aaron raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "You want to start working out?"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, feeling a bit of that familiar spark of determination. "I’m tired of feeling like I can’t keep up. I know I’ll never be a werewolf or anything, but I can be stronger. I want to be strong, you know? Not just mentally. Physically too."

Aaron’s lips curled into a smile, and he nodded approvingly. "I can help with that. I’ve been training agents for years, and I think we can put together something that'll get you where you want to be."

Stiles’ eyes lit up. "You’d really help me?"

"Of course," Aaron said, sitting back in his chair. "But it’s not going to be easy. It’s going to take hard work and dedication, and you’ll need to push yourself, even when you want to quit."

Stiles smirked, his competitive nature kicking in. "Sounds like a challenge. I’m in."

Aaron chuckled softly. "Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow morning. I’ll get some gear set up for you, and we’ll work out a routine. But for now, get some rest. You’ve had a long day, and you’re going to need your energy."

Stiles leaned back into the couch, feeling a sense of relief and purpose. "Thanks, Uncle Aaron. I mean it."

Aaron gave a small nod. "Get some sleep, Stiles. Tomorrow, we start making you as strong as you want to be."

Stiles smiled to himself, feeling a bit of the weight from earlier lift off his shoulders. If Derek thought he was weak, fine. He’d prove him wrong—not by becoming something he wasn’t, but by making the best of who he already was.

The house was quiet, the only sound being the soft ticking of the clock in the hallway. Stiles had finally fallen asleep after the long day, his mind easing into some much-needed rest. But that peace was soon interrupted by the sudden jolt of something—or rather, someone—landing squarely on his bed.

Stiles groaned, blinking awake in confusion as the weight on his legs pinned him down. "What the—?"

"Wake up!" came an excited voice, full of energy.

Stiles squinted, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. A small figure bounced on the bed, and as his vision cleared, he recognized his young cousin, Jack Hotchner, grinning down at him.

"Jack?" Stiles muttered, rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up fully. "What time is it?"

"It’s morning!" Jack replied, still bouncing up and down, clearly not caring about Stiles' confusion. "Uncle Aaron said you’re going to train with him today!"

Stiles chuckled despite his grogginess. "Yeah, but not at 6 a.m., buddy." He glanced at the clock on the nightstand—sure enough, it was way too early for this kind of energy.

Jack just grinned wider. "But I’m excited! And I wanna help you get strong too! We can do push-ups together!"

Stiles couldn’t help but smile at Jack’s enthusiasm. "Okay, okay, calm down, mini Hotch. I’ll get up." He stretched and sat up in bed, shaking off the last of the sleep. "But we might need some pancakes first if we’re going to survive Uncle Aaron’s training."

Jack nodded eagerly. "Pancakes! I’ll ask Dad to make some."

"Deal," Stiles said, getting out of bed and ruffling Jack’s hair. "Now let’s get downstairs before you break my bed with all that bouncing."

As they headed toward the kitchen, Stiles couldn’t help but smile. For the first time since the argument with Derek, he felt a little lighter. Maybe being here with family was exactly what he needed after all.

In the warm kitchen, the smell of pancakes already filled the air as Stiles stood next to his Uncle Aaron at the stove. Jack was happily dancing around the kitchen, humming to himself and spinning with his hands in the air, his excitement contagious. Stiles flipped a pancake, grinning at how different this morning felt from the heaviness he’d brought with him.

Aaron was measuring out more flour for the next batch while Stiles expertly managed the griddle. "How many pancakes do you think we need, Uncle Aaron? Jack’s like a bottomless pit."

Aaron chuckled. "Better to have too many than not enough."

Just as Aaron handed Stiles the flour, Jack whirled past, nearly knocking into the counter, his arms flailing in his enthusiastic dance.

"Careful, buddy!" Stiles called out, laughing as Jack stumbled, catching himself on the table. But then, as if in slow motion, Jack's little hand reached out and snagged the bag of flour on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Jack, no!" Stiles tried to stop him, but it was too late.

With a cheeky grin, Jack lobbed a handful of flour into the air, and it exploded into a cloud that rained down on all of them. Stiles froze, the white powder coating his hair, his shirt, and the counter. Aaron, who rarely ever showed emotion, actually cracked a smile as flour dusted his shoulders.

There was a beat of silence—then, laughter erupted from all three of them.

"Jack!" Stiles wheezed, wiping flour from his face. "You are so cleaning this up!"

Jack doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. "But you look like a ghost!" he managed between giggles.

Aaron shook his head, still smiling as he brushed off his sleeves. "You’re lucky your dad doesn’t mind a little mess, Jack."

Stiles couldn’t resist. He grabbed a small handful of flour and tossed it playfully at Jack, who squealed and ducked behind the kitchen island.

"Oh, it’s on now!" Jack declared, popping his head back up with a wicked grin.

Before anyone knew it, flour was flying everywhere. Stiles threw a light handful at Jack, who retaliated with some sugar. Aaron, caught in the crossfire, even tossed a little back at Stiles, trying to stay in control but failing as laughter filled the kitchen.

By the time they all settled down, the kitchen was a complete mess, flour coating the counters, floor, and even some of the cabinets. But the atmosphere was filled with so much joy and laughter that no one seemed to care.

Breathless, Stiles leaned against the counter, covered in flour but smiling from ear to ear. "Well, I think we’ve made enough pancakes… and flour bombs."

Aaron wiped some flour off his cheek, still amused. "I think we’ll be cleaning this up for a week."

Jack, still giggling, added, "Best breakfast ever!"

Stiles looked around at the mess, at Jack’s happy face, and at his uncle's rare grin, and for the first time in days, he felt truly at ease. This, he realized, was exactly what he needed. Family, laughter, and a little bit of chaos.

As they finished wiping the flour off themselves and attempted to restore some semblance of order to the kitchen, Aaron checked his watch.

"Alright, we leave in an hour," Aaron said, his voice shifting back to its usual calm but serious tone. "Make sure you're ready. We’ve got a lot to do today."

Stiles nodded, still grinning from their flour-filled fun. But as Aaron spoke, a thought came to mind, and the smile faded slightly. He realized there was something he needed to take care of before they left.

"Actually, Uncle Aaron," Stiles started, pushing off the counter, "there’s a place I need to run to real quick before we go. Won’t take long, I promise."

Aaron glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

Stiles hesitated for a moment, not wanting to explain everything. "Just... a place I need to visit. Clear my head, y'know?"

Aaron studied him for a moment but nodded. "Alright, but don’t take too long. Be back in time."

Stiles grabbed his jacket from the chair, giving his uncle a quick nod. "I will. Thanks."

As he headed out the door, his thoughts wandered back to what—or rather, who—he needed to see. There was someone who had crossed his path earlier, someone he hadn’t expected to see again. And before he could settle into this new chapter of his life, he needed answers.

Newt.

Stiles jogged down the street, his heart racing not just from the physical exertion but from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. He wasn’t entirely sure where to start looking for Newt, but the area where he’d seen him before seemed like a good place to begin.

His eyes scanned the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar blonde hair. After a few minutes of wandering, doubt started to creep in—maybe he had imagined it, maybe it wasn’t Newt at all. Just as he was about to give up, a voice called out from behind him.

"Tommy?"

Stiles froze in place. He hadn’t heard that name in years. Slowly, he turned around, his breath catching in his throat.

There, standing a few feet away, was Newt. The same messy blonde hair, the same weary but sharp eyes that Stiles remembered all too well.

"Newt?" Stiles whispered, as if saying the name out loud would make it real.

Newt's eyes widened in shock as he took a step closer. "It really is you..." He breathed out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Stiles—Tom—whatever name he was supposed to be, felt his chest tighten. "Newt... how are you here? How is this even possible?"

Newt shook his head, a mixture of relief and confusion crossing his face. "I don’t know, mate. I thought I’d never see you again. We all thought you were gone for good."

Stiles swallowed hard, taking in the sight of his old friend. "Yeah, well, I’ve been... away for a while. Things got complicated."

Newt let out a humorless laugh. "Complicated is an understatement, Tommy. What are you doing here?"

Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but the words didn’t come right away. How could he explain everything that had happened—the life he had lived as Stiles, the world he’d been a part of, the supernatural chaos in Beacon Hills? It felt like a lifetime ago that he was Thomas, part of a different world altogether.

"I’m not sure where to start," Stiles admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Newt took another step closer, his expression softening. "Then let’s start with the fact that you’re alive. That’s all that matters right now."

Stiles nodded, the emotions building up inside him overwhelming. "Yeah... alive." But for how long? he wondered silently, knowing the dangers that always seemed to follow him.

For now, though, it didn’t matter. He had found Newt. Or maybe Newt had found him.

Either way, there was so much more to figure out.

Stiles and Newt stood there, talking quietly but urgently for the next five minutes, the weight of their shared past hanging between them. Stiles couldn't believe he was seeing Newt again, and the feeling seemed mutual. They exchanged stories, catching up on the surface level, though both of them knew there was so much more to say.

"Give me your phone," Stiles said, pulling his own out. He quickly typed his number into Newt's contacts. "Make sure the others get it too. Minho, Thomas—whoever you can reach."

Newt nodded, his expression still one of disbelief. "I will. It’s good to see you, mate. I thought we’d lost you forever."

Stiles smiled faintly, his heart heavy with the thought of everything left unsaid. "Yeah, well... life has a weird way of pulling people back together."

As they stood there for a moment, Stiles glanced at the time on his phone and his eyes widened. "Shit!" He quickly pocketed his phone. "I gotta go. I’m meeting my uncle, and we’re heading out soon."

Newt gave him a nod of understanding, though there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Yeah, of course. We’ll talk soon, yeah?"

Stiles gave a quick nod, already turning to leave. "I’ll text you. Promise." He hesitated for a second, looking back at Newt. "Take care of yourself."

"You too, Tommy," Newt said, giving him a small wave as Stiles jogged away, disappearing into the bustling streets.

Stiles couldn't help but smile to himself as he hurried back to his uncle’s house. He hadn’t expected to see Newt, but now that he had, things felt... different. The past wasn’t as far away as he thought. But for now, he had to focus on the present. And the training ahead with Uncle Aaron.

Stiles stood in the middle of the gym inside the FBI headquarters, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. His Uncle Aaron was standing a few feet away, dressed in workout gear, his face serious but supportive. The room was well-lit, with a variety of training equipment lining the walls—weights, punching bags, and mats for hand-to-hand combat.

"Alright," Aaron said, stepping toward Stiles. "You wanted to get stronger, both physically and mentally. I’m going to help you with that, but it’s not going to be easy. You sure you’re ready?"

Stiles nodded, determination in his eyes. "I need this. I can’t keep being the weak link in everyone’s eyes, especially not Derek’s."

Aaron watched his nephew for a moment, recognizing the fire behind his words. "It’s not about proving anything to anyone else, Stiles. This is for you, not Derek or anyone else. Understood?"

Stiles swallowed and nodded again. "Understood."

"Good," Aaron said, clapping his hands together. "Let’s start with some basic conditioning. I want to see where you’re at physically, and we’ll build from there."

Stiles took a deep breath as Aaron guided him through a series of warm-up exercises—push-ups, sit-ups, and a short sprint across the room. Stiles had never been unfit, but it became clear to him how out of his depth he was compared to the kind of training Aaron and his team went through. By the time he was halfway through the routine, sweat dripped down his face, and his muscles were already starting to ache.

"Keep going," Aaron encouraged as Stiles faltered during his second round of push-ups. "You’re stronger than you think."

Gritting his teeth, Stiles pushed himself up off the floor, every muscle in his arms screaming, but he wasn’t going to give up. Not now. Not after everything.

After another grueling round of conditioning exercises, Aaron moved to the next part of the session: combat training.

"Alright, Stiles," Aaron said, motioning him to stand on the mat. "We’re going to start with some self-defense techniques. You need to know how to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat if you ever find yourself in a situation where you can’t rely on someone else."

Stiles, still catching his breath from the workout, nodded, stepping onto the mat. "Got it."

Aaron moved into position in front of him. "I’m going to come at you slow at first. Your goal is to block my strikes and counter when you can. Focus on your stance and staying balanced."

Stiles readied himself, standing a little awkwardly as Aaron approached. Aaron threw a slow, telegraphed punch, and Stiles managed to block it with his forearm, though his form was sloppy.

"Not bad," Aaron commented. "But keep your guard up. And stay light on your feet."

They repeated the drill, Aaron gradually increasing the speed and intensity of his strikes. Stiles struggled at first, fumbling to block and counter. But as the session went on, he began to get the hang of it. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he was learning. Each punch and block became a little sharper, his movements more fluid.

By the end of the hour, Stiles was exhausted, but there was a sense of pride simmering beneath the fatigue.

Aaron stepped back, nodding at him. "Good work, Stiles. You’ve got potential. You just need to keep working at it."

Stiles wiped the sweat from his brow, panting but smiling. "Thanks, Uncle Aaron. I... I needed this."

Aaron placed a hand on his shoulder. "You’re stronger than you think, Stiles. And not just physically. We’ll keep working, but remember—this isn’t just about your body. It’s about your mind too. Stay focused."

Stiles nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "I will. I’m not stopping until I’m ready for anything."

Aaron smiled faintly, a rare show of emotion. "Good. We’ll train again tomorrow."

As Stiles walked out of the gym, his muscles sore but his spirit lifted, he realized something important—this wasn’t just about proving Derek wrong. It was about proving to himself that he could be strong, that he could stand on his own. And with Aaron’s help, he was going to get there.

After finishing the training session with Uncle Aaron, Stiles felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. He headed back to the guest room he was staying in, ready to shower and relax for a bit. As he flopped down on the bed, his phone buzzed on the nightstand, catching his attention.

He picked it up and saw a message from Newt.

Newt: Hey Tommy! I’m at a restaurant nearby. Want to come meet up? I think we have a lot to catch up on. Let me know!

Stiles felt a smile spread across his face. He hadn’t expected to see Newt so soon after their brief reunion. He quickly typed back.

Stiles: Absolutely! Send me the address, and I’ll be there in a bit!

Almost instantly, his phone buzzed again with the location. Stiles quickly changed clothes, opting for a casual yet stylish look, and headed out. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow over the city as he made his way to the restaurant Newt had mentioned.

When he arrived, the place was bustling, a mix of families, couples, and groups of friends enjoying their meals. Stiles pushed through the door, scanning the room for a familiar face. He spotted Newt sitting at a corner table, waving enthusiastically when their eyes met.

"Hey, Tommy!" Newt called, a broad grin lighting up his face.

Stiles felt a rush of warmth at the sight of his old friend. "Hey, Newt!" He approached the table, taking a seat across from him. "It’s good to see you again. It feels like ages."

"It really does!" Newt replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can’t believe you’re here. What have you been up to since... you know, everything?"

Stiles sighed, the weight of the past creeping back in. "Long story short, I’ve been dealing with a lot of supernatural chaos, but I’m trying to find my footing again."

Newt nodded knowingly, understanding that there were layers beneath Stiles’ casual tone. "Yeah, I get that. We’ve had our fair share of craziness too. It’s like the world doesn’t stop throwing curveballs."

Their conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared stories, the familiarity making it feel like no time had passed. They talked about the people they had missed, the adventures they had embarked on, and the challenges they faced.

After a while, Newt leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face. "So, how’s it been adjusting? I mean, you seemed to be doing alright with your uncle, but how are you really holding up?"

Stiles paused for a moment, the lightheartedness of their conversation shifting slightly. "It’s... tough. I’ve been working on myself, trying to be stronger. I didn’t want to be seen as weak, especially not after what Derek said."

Newt frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair. "What did he say?"

Stiles took a deep breath, recalling the painful argument that had led him to leave Beacon Hills. "He called me weak for being human. It hurt, and it made me question everything."

Newt’s expression shifted from concern to empathy. "That’s rough, man. But you’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through so much, and you keep coming back."

Stiles appreciated the words but felt a knot tighten in his chest. "Thanks, Newt. I’m just trying to figure it all out. Being away from home has helped a little, but it’s hard not to think about everything—especially Derek."

The conversation took a more serious turn, both of them reflecting on their pasts and the difficulties they had faced. But through it all, Stiles felt comforted by Newt’s presence, as if a piece of his old life was returning.

As the evening wore on, they finished their meals and continued to talk, their laughter echoing around the restaurant. For the first time in a while, Stiles felt a sense of normalcy, and for the first time in a long time, he believed that maybe he could find his way back.

After finishing their meal and sharing a few more laughs, Stiles and Newt decided to take a stroll outside the restaurant. The evening air was crisp and refreshing, and the streets were alive with the sounds of people enjoying the night. As they walked side by side, Stiles felt lighter, the weight of the day slowly lifting off his shoulders.

“It's nice to be out like this,” Newt said, glancing sideways at Stiles. “I missed hanging out with you, Tommy. We always had fun.”

“Yeah, we did,” Stiles replied, a smile creeping onto his face. “I missed it too. It feels good to just… be.”

They walked a bit further, their conversation flowing easily as they reminisced about old times, laughing at shared memories and the antics they used to get up to. Eventually, they found a quieter area, a small park with trees and a few benches illuminated by soft streetlights.

Stiles leaned against one of the trees, looking up at the stars scattered across the night sky. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger,” he admitted. “It always felt peaceful.”

Newt stepped closer, his expression softening as he watched Stiles. “You know, you’ve always been there for everyone else, Tommy. But you deserve to have someone be there for you too.”

Stiles turned to face him, feeling the intensity of Newt’s gaze. “I know I have a lot to work on, but—”

Before he could finish his thought, Newt moved closer, closing the distance between them. He reached up, cupping Stiles' face gently in his hand. “You’re already stronger than you think,” he said softly. “You just need to believe it.”

And then, without hesitation, Newt leaned in and pressed his lips against Stiles'. The kiss was tentative at first, but as Stiles registered what was happening, he melted into it, kissing Newt back with equal fervor. It felt electric, as if something inside him had finally clicked into place.

When they pulled away, both a little breathless, Stiles stared into Newt’s eyes, a mix of surprise and exhilaration flooding through him. “Wow,” he breathed, unable to find any other words.

Newt chuckled softly, a shy grin spreading across his face. “Sorry if that was sudden, Tommy. I just… I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Stiles felt his cheeks heat up, his heart racing. “I’m not complaining. I just didn’t expect it, you know?”

“I get that,” Newt replied, his voice light. “But I mean it, Tommy. You deserve to be happy, especially after everything you’ve been through.”

Stiles nodded, feeling a warmth blossom in his chest. “I appreciate that, Newt. Really. It’s nice to have someone who gets it.”

As they stood there, the night wrapping around them like a comforting blanket, Stiles realized that maybe, just maybe, he could find a new path forward. With Newt by his side, he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him—hope that he could be strong, not just for himself, but for those he cared about.

After their unexpected kiss, Stiles felt a newfound sense of lightness as he walked back to his uncle Aaron’s house. The night air was cool against his skin, but it did little to diminish the warmth he felt inside. The smile lingered on his face as he thought about Newt and how easy it was to be around him.

Once he arrived at his uncle's house, Stiles found Aaron in the kitchen, tidying up after dinner. The smell of pancakes lingered in the air, and Stiles felt a surge of gratitude for the homey atmosphere. He dropped his backpack by the door and made his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, Stiles! How was your outing?” Aaron asked, looking up with a smile.

“Really good, actually,” Stiles replied, leaning against the counter. “I ran into an old friend, Newt. We hung out, caught up on everything. It felt nice.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Nice? Just nice?”

Stiles couldn’t help but grin, feeling a bit sheepish. “Well, we had dinner, and then we went for a walk. And, uh, we kissed.”

“Wow, look at you!” Aaron chuckled, clearly pleased. “So, what’s the deal with Newt? He seems like a good guy?”

“Yeah, he is,” Stiles said, leaning back against the counter. “He gets me, you know? We’ve been through some similar things, and I just felt really comfortable around him.”

Before Aaron could respond, Stiles’ phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a message from his dad.

Noah: Hey, I’m just checking in. How was your training today?

Stiles quickly typed back, eager to share the details.

Stiles: It was intense! Uncle Aaron worked me hard, but I feel stronger already. And I met up with Newt, an old friend. We really hit it off.

Noah’s reply came almost instantly.

Noah: That’s great to hear! Glad you’re making connections. You know, we always talked about finding people who understand what you’re going through.

Stiles smiled at that. His dad had always been supportive, and it meant a lot.

“Dad wants to know how training went,” Stiles said, looking at Aaron. “He’s happy I met Newt.”

Aaron nodded, a knowing look on his face. “He should be. Building a support system is important, especially with everything going on. How are you feeling about all of it?”

Stiles hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much to share. “Honestly? It feels good. I’m still working through things, especially what Derek said, but having Newt around… it’s like a breath of fresh air.”

Aaron’s expression softened. “That’s what you need. Someone who lifts you up instead of tearing you down.”

Just then, Stiles’ phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, surprised to see a video call from his dad.

“Hey, Dad!” Stiles answered, his heart racing slightly as he saw Noah’s familiar face.

“Hey, Stiles! I wanted to hear all about your day,” Noah said, his eyes brightening. “How was the training with Aaron?”

“It was tough but good. I feel like I’m actually making progress. Uncle Aaron really pushed me,” Stiles explained, feeling a sense of pride. “And then I met Newt, which was unexpected but amazing.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Newt? Is he the one you mentioned in your text? The one you kissed?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Stiles said, a shy smile creeping onto his face. “We’ve known each other for years, but it’s different now. It feels… right.”

“I’m glad to hear that, son,” Noah replied, his voice warm. “You deserve someone who lifts you up. Just remember, no matter what happens, I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles said, feeling grateful for his father’s unwavering support. “I really appreciate it.”

As they continued talking, Stiles felt the weight of his earlier struggles lifting even more. Surrounded by family, friends, and new beginnings, he realized that he was ready to face whatever came next. With a determined smile, he thought about the training still ahead of him, the bond he was forging with Newt, and the unwavering support of his family—he knew he was on the right path.

Stiles lay comfortably in bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the room. Jack, his younger cousin, was sprawled out at the foot of the bed, his small form rising and falling gently as he slept soundly. Stiles smiled to himself, feeling content. It was a rare moment of peace while he was babysitting, and he relished the quiet, even with the gentle hum of his phone vibrating beside him.

Just as he was about to drift off, his phone rang, pulling him back to reality. Glancing at the screen, he saw Derek's name flashing. Stiles sighed, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Their argument still weighed heavily on him, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk.

Before he could decide whether to answer, the doorbell rang, cutting through the silence of the house. Curiosity piqued, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Jack.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered to the sleeping boy, tiptoeing out of the room. Stiles made his way to the front door, wondering who could be stopping by.

He opened the door to find Newt standing on the porch, a bright smile on his face. “Hey, Tommy!” he greeted, his enthusiasm contagious.

“Newt!” Stiles exclaimed, returning the smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Newt said, stepping inside. “Hope that’s okay?”

“Of course!” Stiles replied, stepping aside to let him in. He quickly tossed his ringing phone onto the counter without checking it, deciding it could wait. “I’m just babysitting my cousin right now. Jack’s around here somewhere.”

Just then, Jack came barreling down the hallway, his little feet pattering against the floor. “Stiles! Who’s at the door?” he called out, his voice filled with excitement.

“Jack, come say hi!” Stiles beckoned, smiling as he watched his cousin rush into the living room.

Newt crouched down, a friendly grin on his face. “Hey there! I’m Newt. It’s nice to meet you, buddy!”

Jack’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Are you Stiles friend?” he asked, his small face full of wonder.

“Yeah, I am! We go way back,” Newt replied, his voice warm and inviting.

Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle at the exchange. Jack was always a little ball of energy, and he loved meeting new people. “So, what do you think of Newt?” Stiles asked, ruffling Jack's hair playfully.

Jack grinned, looking up at Newt with admiration. “He’s cool! Can we play a game?”

“Absolutely!” Newt replied, standing back up. “What do you like to play?”

“Hide and seek!” Jack exclaimed, bouncing on his toes.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Stiles said, feeling a sense of ease wash over him. The tension from earlier with Derek began to fade as he watched Newt interact with Jack, his heart warming at the sight.

Stiles glanced back at the counter, seeing Derek’s name still lighting up on his phone. For a moment, he considered answering it, but the laughter of Jack and Newt brought him back to the present. Maybe tonight was about enjoying the company he had rather than worrying about the past.

“Okay, I’ll count first! You guys go hide!” Stiles called out, closing his eyes and starting to count as he heard the sound of little feet scurrying away. As he counted, he could hear Newt encouraging Jack, and it filled him with a sense of joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Ten! Ready or not, here I come!” Stiles shouted, a genuine smile breaking across his face as he set off to find them. In that moment, he realized how important it was to cherish the little moments, especially when things felt complicated. With Newt around, things felt a little less complicated, and that was exactly what he needed right now.

Aaron quietly opened the front door, stepping into the dimly lit house after a long day at work. The familiar warmth of home greeted him, along with the faint sounds of the TV in the background. He hung up his coat, pausing for a moment when he noticed the silence.

As he made his way into the living room, Aaron stopped in his tracks, a soft smile spreading across his face at the sight before him. On the couch, the trio had completely passed out. Jack was curled up at the foot of the couch, his small body resting by Stiles' feet, sound asleep with his arm draped over a pillow. Meanwhile, Stiles and Newt lay next to each other, cuddled up together on the other side of the couch. Stiles had his arm wrapped loosely around Newt, their breathing slow and peaceful.

The room was lit by the glow of the TV, which had long since switched to a rerun of some cartoon. Aaron couldn't help but smile at the scene, the stress of his day melting away in the presence of such a peaceful moment.

He walked closer, careful not to make too much noise, and gently turned off the TV. The soft hum of the room settled into complete silence, save for the quiet, steady breathing of the three sleeping figures. Aaron leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching them with a sense of pride and affection. It had been a long time since he’d seen Stiles this relaxed and happy.

Newt’s presence was new, but it seemed to have brought out a side of Stiles that Aaron hadn’t seen in a while—a side that wasn’t weighed down by his usual worries. And Jack, always so full of energy, looked completely at ease, surrounded by the two older boys who clearly adored him.

Aaron chuckled softly to himself, deciding not to wake them. Instead, he grabbed a nearby blanket and gently draped it over Stiles and Newt. He carefully adjusted it around Jack as well, making sure all three were tucked in.

As he stood back up, Aaron took one last look at the scene before heading toward the kitchen to clean up the remnants of the day. He knew they’d all wake up eventually, but for now, he let them have their peaceful moment. It was nice to see Stiles surrounded by people who cared about him, and Aaron couldn’t be happier for him.

As Aaron quietly moved into the kitchen, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he saw his brother Noah’s name flashing. Smiling, he picked up the call.

“Hey, Noah,” Aaron greeted, his voice low as to not disturb the trio sleeping on the couch.

“Hey, Aaron. Just calling to check in on Stiles. How’s he doing?” Noah asked, concern lacing his voice.

Aaron leaned against the kitchen counter, glancing back toward the living room where Stiles, Newt, and Jack were all still sound asleep. “He’s doing alright, actually. I think the time away has been good for him.”

“That’s good to hear,” Noah replied, the relief in his tone evident. “He didn’t say much before he left, but I could tell he was pretty upset.”

Aaron nodded, even though Noah couldn’t see it. “Yeah, he mentioned something about Derek calling him weak. It hit him hard. But I think he's starting to bounce back, especially now that he’s got some support here.”

“Yeah, Derek can be... a lot sometimes,” Noah sighed. “I just want to make sure Stiles is in a good place. He didn’t need more on his plate.”

Aaron chuckled softly, looking toward the living room again. “Well, you’ll be happy to know he’s surrounded by some good company. I just walked in a little while ago, and all three of them—Stiles, Newt, and Jack—are passed out on the couch. Stiles and Newt are cuddled up, and Jack’s laying by Stiles’ feet.”

Noah’s laughter echoed through the phone. “That sounds like Stiles. Never one to do things halfway.”

Aaron grinned. “Yeah, it's a sight. Hold on, I’ll send you a picture.” He stepped back into the living room quietly, took out his phone, and snapped a quick picture of the trio. Stiles and Newt were nestled close, and Jack was curled up like a small puppy at the foot of the couch.

He sent the picture to Noah, and a few seconds later, he heard Noah’s phone buzz.

Noah’s soft chuckle came through the line. “Well, that’s adorable. Thanks for sending that. I’m glad he’s doing okay.”

Aaron leaned against the wall, the soft hum of the house providing a comforting backdrop to their conversation. “No problem. He’s doing more than okay, Noah. I think this break is exactly what he needed.”

“I appreciate you taking care of him, Aaron,” Noah said, his voice full of gratitude. “Just keep an eye on him for me. He’s been through a lot.”

“You know I will,” Aaron reassured. “You’ve done a great job with him, Noah. He’s strong, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“Thanks, Aaron. That means a lot.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, Noah bid Aaron goodnight. Aaron hung up, his thoughts lingering on Stiles. He knew his nephew still had a journey ahead of him, but Aaron was determined to help him through it. He glanced one more time at the peaceful scene on the couch, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he headed upstairs, leaving them to their restful slumber.

Stiles stirred awake, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the soft morning light filtering into the living room. He was warm and comfortable, but as he tried to shift, he felt a strong arm pull him closer. He glanced down to see Newt still fast asleep, his head nestled against Stiles' shoulder, keeping him in place.

Stiles sighed softly, not really minding the closeness, but realizing he couldn't move without waking Newt up. He glanced around, his gaze landing on his uncle Aaron, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a wide grin on his face. Aaron chuckled softly, clearly amused by the sight of his nephew trying—and failing—to break free.

Stiles rolled his eyes, managing to smile despite the situation. "Really, Uncle Aaron?" he mouthed silently, not wanting to wake Newt or Jack, who was still snoozing at the foot of the couch.

Aaron just shook his head, stifling a laugh as he walked over quietly. "It’s a good look on you," he teased in a hushed tone. "You might want to stay put for a bit, though. Looks like Newt’s not letting you go anytime soon."

Stiles sighed dramatically, but there was a hint of fondness in his expression as he looked down at Newt. "Guess I’m stuck here," he whispered, trying not to disturb anyone.

Aaron chuckled again, clapping Stiles gently on the shoulder. "Could be worse things, kid. You could always wake him, but I’d say this is the most peaceful I’ve seen you in a while."

Stiles smirked but didn't argue. The warmth and comfort of the moment weren't so bad, even if his uncle was getting a kick out of it. With a soft sigh, he resigned himself to staying put for a little while longer, relaxing back into the cushions, while Aaron went back to the kitchen, still grinning at the sight of his nephew.

As Aaron went back to the kitchen, his phone buzzed on the counter. Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he picked it up and saw a message from Noah. His brow furrowed as he read the text:

"Heads up. Derek left town looking for Stiles. Not sure where he is, but he's determined. Thought you should know."

Aaron’s relaxed expression shifted into something more serious. He glanced back at the living room, where Stiles was still gently trapped in Newt’s embrace, completely unaware of the new development.

Aaron sighed quietly, leaning against the counter as he considered the situation. He knew how Stiles felt about the argument with Derek, and the last thing Stiles needed right now was to be caught off guard by Derek showing up unannounced. Aaron trusted Noah, but Derek’s unpredictable nature concerned him. If Derek was determined enough to leave Beacon Hills to search for Stiles, it meant this wasn’t going to blow over easily.

He quickly typed back a response to Noah:

"Thanks for the heads-up. I'll keep an eye on things here. If Derek gets close, let me know immediately."

Aaron slipped the phone into his pocket, his mind already racing with what to do next. He wasn’t about to let Stiles get blindsided. Not when he had just started to find a bit of peace.

For now, though, Aaron decided to let Stiles have this moment. He didn’t need to worry him until they had more concrete information. Aaron took a deep breath, glancing one more time at the peaceful scene on the couch before heading to his office to figure out the next steps.

As Newt and Jack finally stirred awake, Stiles managed to extricate himself from the couch. Together, the trio made their way to the kitchen, where the smell of dinner filled the air. Aaron stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan, his expression more focused than usual.

Stiles, ever perceptive, noticed the tension right away. "What’s wrong, Uncle Aaron?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Aaron hesitated, not wanting to drop the news too bluntly, but knowing he couldn't keep it from Stiles. "Derek’s tracking your scent."

Stiles, who had just taken a sip of water, nearly choked at the revelation, coughing and spluttering as his eyes went wide. "What?" he croaked, setting the glass down hard on the counter. "He’s what?"

Aaron turned to face him, keeping his tone calm. "Noah texted me. Derek left town and is tracking your scent. He’s looking for you, Stiles."

Newt, standing beside Stiles, looked between them with confusion. Jack, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stopped his dancing and leaned against the counter, listening closely.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, clearly shaken. "I—he... Why is he—? I told him I needed space, and now he’s just..." His voice trailed off, frustration and panic building.

Newt stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Stiles’ shoulder. "We can figure this out, Tommy," he said softly, using the name he always called him, trying to calm him down.

Stiles exhaled sharply, pacing for a moment before stopping and looking at Aaron. "What do I do? I can't deal with him right now, Aaron. I left for a reason."

Aaron put down the spatula, his eyes steady as he looked at his nephew. "We’ll deal with it together. You’re not alone in this. If Derek shows up, we’ll talk to him. But for now, you’re safe here. He hasn’t found you yet."

Stiles nodded, though the anxiety still simmered beneath the surface. He was torn between the unresolved tension with Derek and the new sense of stability he had found with his uncle and Newt.

"Okay," Stiles said, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Okay, we’ll figure it out."

Aaron gave him a supportive nod, then turned back to the stove. "But first, let’s eat. We’ll need the energy if Derek does show up."

Newt squeezed Stiles’ shoulder before pulling out a chair for him at the kitchen table. Stiles sat down, still processing the news but trying to stay grounded in the present moment, surrounded by people who had his back.

Stiles lay on the couch, his arms crossed and his jaw tight, staring at the ceiling in frustration. His mind raced, cycling through the argument with Derek, the mess of emotions swirling inside him, and now the fact that Derek was actively tracking him down. It made his blood boil.

Newt sat beside him, trying his best to lighten the mood, telling jokes and recounting old memories, but Stiles was barely responding, too caught up in his own head.

“Come on, Tommy,” Newt said gently, nudging him. “It’s not worth being this upset. We’re safe here. You’ll figure things out.”

Stiles sighed heavily, staring at the ceiling. "It's just... I thought getting away would help clear my head, but knowing he's out there, looking for me—"

Before he could finish, the doorbell rang, cutting through the room. Stiles immediately tensed, sitting up straight. His eyes darted toward the door, fear and anger flickering across his face.

Aaron, who had been in his office, appeared in the hallway, giving Stiles a calm but knowing look. "Stay here," he said softly, heading for the door.

Stiles exchanged a quick, worried glance with Newt, his heart racing. He sat frozen on the couch, waiting as Aaron unlocked the door and opened it slowly. Stiles strained to hear, dreading the possibility that Derek had found him.

Aaron stood at the door, his body blocking the view as he spoke to whoever was on the other side. Stiles couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was calm. After a moment, Aaron stepped aside, and a figure entered the doorway.

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. Derek.

Derek's gaze was intense, his eyes immediately locking onto Stiles as if nothing else in the room mattered. Stiles felt a rush of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else he wasn’t ready to confront.

Newt instinctively moved closer to Stiles, ready to back him up if things escalated, but Stiles remained seated, his eyes narrowed at Derek.

Aaron crossed his arms, watching the exchange closely but staying silent, prepared to intervene if necessary. The tension in the room was palpable, and it felt like the air had thickened as Stiles and Derek faced each other, the unresolved argument hanging heavy between them.

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice low but steady, as if he had been rehearsing what to say the entire way there.

Aaron Hotchner, ever the cautious FBI agent, had quietly drawn his gun, keeping it low and out of immediate view as Derek stepped inside. His eyes were sharp, assessing every move Derek made, not knowing how far Derek was willing to go. Aaron could see the tension rippling off both men, and while he wasn’t sure what Derek’s intentions were, he wasn’t taking any chances with Stiles' safety.

Stiles, on the other hand, was vibrating with anger. The sight of Derek in the doorway made his blood boil even more. He stood up from the couch, fists clenched at his sides as he glared at Derek.

“What the hell are you doing here, Derek?” Stiles spat, his voice sharp and full of venom. “I left because I needed space, and now you’re tracking me down like I’m some lost dog?”

Derek’s jaw tightened, his eyes softening despite the harshness in his voice. "You just left without saying anything, Stiles. What was I supposed to do? Let you run off without—"

"Without what?" Stiles snapped, cutting him off. "Without you calling me weak? Like I’m not capable of taking care of myself? That I’m just some fragile human you have to protect? I’m not your responsibility, Derek!"

Derek took a step forward, his eyes pleading despite the tension. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it."

Before things could escalate further, Aaron, gun still in hand but pointed down, spoke up. His voice was calm but firm, the authoritative tone of someone used to diffusing volatile situations. "Both of you, take a breath. Derek, if you’re here to talk, then talk—but do it without pushing him. Stiles doesn’t owe you an explanation for wanting some space."

Stiles shot his uncle a grateful look, though he was still seething inside. Derek glanced at Aaron’s gun, then back at Stiles, and he seemed to back off slightly, though the frustration in his posture remained.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” Derek said, his voice quieter now, though the tension in his words was still present. “I just… I needed to see you. To explain.”

Stiles crossed his arms, his voice laced with hurt. "You made it pretty clear what you think of me, Derek. You think I’m weak. So why are you here now?"

Derek ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling up again, but he held it back. "That’s not what I think, Stiles. I said something I shouldn’t have, okay? I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I was… scared."

Stiles blinked, his anger faltering for just a moment. "Scared?"

"Yeah," Derek admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "Because you’re human. Because I care about you, and the thought of losing you…" He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. "I was scared, and I lashed out. But I don’t think you’re weak, Stiles. You’ve never been weak."

Stiles stood there, staring at Derek, his emotions swirling. He wanted to stay mad, wanted to push Derek away, but the vulnerability in Derek’s voice made it harder. Still, Stiles wasn’t ready to let it go. Not yet.

Aaron, sensing the weight of the moment, slowly holstered his gun but remained nearby, watching the two carefully. The room was silent, save for the sound of Stiles’ heavy breathing as he tried to process everything.

Finally, Stiles spoke, his voice quieter but still laced with hurt. "You should have just said that from the start, Derek."

Derek nodded, taking a cautious step closer. "I know. And I’m sorry."

Stiles’ words hung in the air like a heavy weight. His eyes locked with Derek’s, and the tension in the room shifted. Derek’s face went pale as the meaning of Stiles’ words sunk in. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion.

“I loved you, Derek,” Stiles repeated, his voice quieter this time but firm. "But it’s too late. I’m falling in love with someone else."

Derek’s expression cracked, his usual stoic demeanor faltering as the hurt flashed in his eyes. “Loved?” he echoed, his voice soft, barely above a whisper. “You… you’re falling in love with someone else?”

Stiles nodded, feeling a sharp pang in his chest. He didn’t want to hurt Derek, but he knew he couldn’t hide the truth any longer. "Yeah. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but… it did. And I can’t just pretend like it didn’t."

Derek took a step back, his gaze dropping to the floor as the reality hit him. He had come here to apologize, to make things right, but now everything was unraveling in a way he hadn’t expected. The weight of his own actions—his anger, his words, the distance he had created between them—felt like it was crashing down all at once.

“Who?” Derek finally asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Who is it?”

Stiles hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the kitchen where Newt was still lingering, watching the scene unfold from a distance. He didn’t want to cause any more pain than necessary, but he couldn’t lie.

“Newt,” Stiles said softly, his eyes meeting Derek’s once more. “It’s Newt.”

Derek’s eyes flickered toward Newt for just a second, and then back to Stiles. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he might lash out in anger again, but instead, he just exhaled shakily, the fight leaving him. The sadness in his eyes was undeniable, but there was also a resignation, like he understood this was something he couldn’t fight.

“I see,” Derek murmured, his voice barely holding steady. He looked at Stiles, his expression softening with a kind of heartbreak that Stiles had never seen in him before. “I didn’t know… I didn’t realize I’d pushed you this far away.”

Stiles swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. "You didn’t push me away, Derek. I just… I found something different. Something I didn’t expect."

Derek gave a small nod, his eyes glossing over. He took another step back, as if putting physical distance between them might help ease the pain. "I won’t bother you anymore, Stiles. If this is what you want… then I’ll let you go."

Stiles watched as Derek turned, heading for the door, the heavy silence in the room pressing down on him. He wanted to say something—to offer comfort, maybe even to apologize—but he knew there was nothing left to say.

Aaron, who had been quietly observing, stepped aside to let Derek out, offering a small nod of understanding. Derek didn’t say anything as he left, closing the door softly behind him.

As the door clicked shut, Stiles exhaled, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt settle in his chest. He had done what he needed to do, but it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

Newt, sensing the tension, walked over and sat beside Stiles on the couch, offering silent comfort. Stiles leaned into him, feeling the warmth of Newt’s presence beside him, but his mind couldn’t help but linger on the man who had just walked out of his life.

Stiles had settled into a new routine living with his Uncle Aaron over the past couple of months. The weight of Beacon Hills had started to lift off his shoulders, but there was always one thing that pulled at his heart, something that tethered him to his old life—his dad, Noah.

He’d tried to put Beacon Hills behind him, tried to focus on the present with his uncle, training harder every day and spending time with Newt. But no matter how much time passed, Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling of missing his dad. They talked often, of course—texts, calls, and video chats—but it wasn’t the same as being there with him, seeing him every day, sharing meals, and hearing his dad’s dry humor in person.

One night, as Stiles sat on the porch of Aaron’s house, staring out into the quiet street, his phone buzzed in his hand. It was a message from his dad.

Noah: Hey, kiddo. Haven’t heard from you in a bit. Everything okay?

Stiles stared at the message for a long moment, feeling that familiar ache rise in his chest. He missed his dad more than he could put into words, but the thought of returning to Beacon Hills still felt too complicated. The memories of Derek, the pack, and all the things he had left behind were still fresh, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face all of that again.

But his dad… His dad was the one thing that still made him feel grounded, like home was still possible.

With a sigh, Stiles texted back.

Stiles: I’m okay, Dad. Just… been busy. Miss you though. A lot.

The reply came quickly.

Noah: I miss you too, kid. You know you can come home anytime, right?

Stiles smiled sadly at the screen, knowing that his dad would never push him, but always left the door open. It was comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

Stiles: I know, Dad. Just need some more time, I guess.

There was a pause before Noah’s next message came through.

Noah: Take all the time you need. Just remember, you’re not alone, alright? I’m always here.

Stiles swallowed, blinking back the sudden sting of emotion in his eyes. He typed out a quick reply.

Stiles: Thanks, Dad. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?

As he put the phone down, Stiles leaned back in the porch chair, gazing up at the stars. He knew at some point he would have to face everything he left behind in Beacon Hills, but for now, his dad’s steady presence, even from afar, was enough to keep him grounded.

The thought of going back—of seeing his dad in person—was the only thing that pulled at him. It was the one connection he couldn’t break, no matter how far he tried to run from the past.

And he knew that one day, he’d have to return. For his dad, if nothing else.

Stiles sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall as he wrestled with his thoughts. The weight of his dad’s messages lingered in the back of his mind, and the longing to see him was becoming harder to ignore. But the fear of facing Beacon Hills again, especially after everything that had happened with Derek, made him hesitant.

After a few moments of contemplation, he decided he needed to talk to Newt. He made his way downstairs, finding Newt in the living room, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” Stiles said, taking a seat beside him. “Can we talk for a second?”

Newt looked up, concern flickering in his eyes. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Stiles hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking about going back to Beacon Hills. I want to see my dad, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.”

Newt nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Why do you think it’s not a good idea?”

Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. Derek is still there, and I don’t want to face him after everything. But my dad… he needs me. And I miss him.”

Newt shifted closer, placing a reassuring hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “If it’s what you want, then I think you should go. But you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

Stiles looked at him, confusion mingling with hope. “What do you mean?”

“I want to come with you,” Newt said, determination in his voice. “And we can bring a couple of our friends. Gally and Minho would be great company. They know how to handle tough situations.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, surprised but pleasantly so. “You’d really come with me?”

“Absolutely,” Newt replied, smiling. “We’re a team, remember? And besides, I’ve been wanting to see the infamous Beacon Hills for myself.”

Stiles felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. The thought of having Newt—and their friends—by his side eased some of the anxiety that had been building inside him. “Okay, yeah. That sounds good. I think I’d feel better about going back if I had you guys with me.”

“Great!” Newt grinned. “I’ll text Gally and Minho and see when they can join us. We can make a trip out of it.”

Stiles smiled back, feeling lighter at the prospect of not facing his past alone. “Thanks, Newt. You’re the best.”

“Always,” Newt said, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder before grabbing his phone to reach out to their friends.

As Newt started typing, Stiles couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. He was finally taking a step towards returning to Beacon Hills, not just for his dad, but to confront everything he had left behind. And this time, he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

Stiles watched as Newt texted Gally and Minho, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him. It was strange how having friends around could make the prospect of facing his past seem less daunting.

“Got it,” Newt said, looking up with a smile. “They’re in. Gally said he’s ready to kick some butt if anyone gives us trouble, and Minho just wants to see the town and grab some food.”

Stiles chuckled at that. “Classic Minho. He’s always thinking about food.”

“Can you blame him?” Newt replied, grinning. “Anyway, when do you want to leave? We can drive back tomorrow if you’re ready.”

Stiles thought for a moment, glancing out the window. “Yeah, I think I want to go tomorrow morning. That way, I can see my dad, and we can get the hell out of there before Derek has a chance to cause a scene.”

Newt nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll help you pack. And we can make a playlist for the drive—it’ll make it more fun.”

As they started gathering Stiles’ things, a comfortable silence fell between them, filled only with the sound of rustling clothes and the occasional laugh as they reminisced about their adventures together. Packing felt different this time. It wasn’t just about leaving; it was about reclaiming a part of himself he had almost forgotten.

A few hours later, after a quick dinner with Aaron and Jack, they finished their preparations. Stiles lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in his mind. Would his dad be happy to see him? Would he find the strength to face Derek if they crossed paths?

The next morning, he woke up early, the anticipation thrumming in his veins. After a quick breakfast with Newt and Jack, they loaded up the car with their bags, excited chatter filling the air as they set off.

The drive felt surprisingly smooth, laughter punctuating the journey as they played music and joked about old memories. Stiles found himself smiling more than he had in a long time, the tension from Beacon Hills fading with every mile.

As they neared the familiar landscape of his hometown, Stiles’ heart began to race. The trees lining the road looked just as he remembered, and the slight twist in his stomach reminded him of all the memories—both good and bad—that awaited him.

“Here we are,” Newt said as they rolled into Beacon Hills. The sight of the town made Stiles’ pulse quicken.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered, almost to himself. “Here we are.”

They parked in front of his dad’s house, and Stiles felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. It was still the same—his dad’s car in the driveway, the familiar paint color, and the little flower garden his dad kept in the front yard.

“Ready?” Newt asked, glancing at Stiles.

Stiles took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, steeling himself.

“Let’s do this,” Newt said, and they stepped out of the car.

Walking up to the front door felt like stepping into a time machine. Stiles’ hand trembled slightly as he raised it to knock, the sound echoing in his ears like thunder.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing his dad, Noah, looking surprised and a bit worn out but immediately breaking into a smile.

“Stiles!” he exclaimed, pulling his son into a tight embrace. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon!”

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles said, his voice slightly muffled against Noah’s shoulder.

“Come in, come in! I’ll make some coffee,” Noah said, stepping back to let them inside. Stiles felt a rush of warmth as he stepped into the house he had missed so much.

As they settled in, Stiles glanced at Newt, who was observing the family dynamic with a warm smile. For the first time in months, Stiles felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be just about facing the past but also about reconnecting with what truly mattered.

But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the thought of Derek. Would he come looking for Stiles? Would he try to confront him again? Whatever happened, Stiles knew he had Newt and their friends by his side, and for now, that was enough.

Stiles sat on the couch, the comforting hum of home filling the air as he sipped his coffee and shared stories with his dad and Newt. Just as he was settling into the warmth of his visit, Stiles’ phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it, seeing a message from Scott.

Scott: Hey, we heard you’re in town! Want to meet up at Derek’s?

Stiles hesitated for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling in his gut. It had been a while since he had seen the pack, and while he missed them, the thought of facing Derek again made his heart race.

“Everything okay?” Newt asked, noticing Stiles’ expression.

“Scott wants to meet up at Derek’s,” Stiles said, glancing at Newt for support. “I’m not sure I’m ready to see Derek yet.”

Newt gave him an encouraging smile. “You’ve got this. Plus, I’ll be there with you. And we can bring Gally and Minho along. It’ll be fun.”

Stiles nodded slowly, feeling a bit braver with Newt’s reassurance. “Okay, let’s do it. I’ll text Scott back.”

After sending a quick reply, Stiles called Gally and Minho to see if they wanted to join. Both were more than excited to come along, their banter over the phone easing Stiles’ nerves.

An hour later, the four of them piled into Newt’s car, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and a hint of apprehension. The ride to Derek’s was filled with laughter as Gally and Minho recounted stories of their latest antics, drawing Stiles back into the moment.

As they arrived at Derek’s house, Stiles’ heart raced again. He took a deep breath, stepping out of the car and looking up at the familiar, old house that held so many memories—both good and painful.

“Ready?” Newt asked, giving Stiles a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Stiles replied, trying to summon a confident smile.

They walked up to the door, and just as Stiles was about to knock, the door swung open to reveal Scott, his face lighting up with a grin. “Stiles! You made it!”

“Yeah, I did,” Stiles replied, feeling a rush of warmth as he stepped inside.

As they entered the living room, Stiles felt the familiar energy of the pack. Scott, Kira, and Liam were already there, and the atmosphere was lively and welcoming. Stiles smiled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease a little.

“Hey, everyone,” Stiles greeted, glancing around the room before his gaze landed on Derek. He was standing by the kitchen island, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Stiles felt a pang in his chest but tried to shake it off.

“Glad you’re here, man,” Scott said, clapping Stiles on the back.

“Yeah, we missed you,” Kira added, giving him a warm smile.

“Thanks,” Stiles replied, taking a seat on the couch next to Newt, who slipped his hand into Stiles’.

“Is this the new boyfriend?” Liam asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly.

“Yeah, this is Newt,” Stiles said, feeling a surge of pride. “And these are my friends Gally and Minho.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Newt said, waving.

“Nice to meet you too,” Gally said, crossing his arms with a smirk. “So, what are we doing? I hope there’s food involved.”

“I’ll order pizza!” Scott offered, pulling out his phone.

Stiles glanced at Derek, who seemed to be watching him closely. There was a moment of silence between them, and Stiles could feel the weight of their unresolved tension.

“So, what’s been going on with you, Stiles?” Derek finally asked, his tone somewhat neutral, but Stiles could sense the underlying emotion.

“Just getting stronger,” Stiles replied, trying to keep it light. “Training with Aaron and hanging out with these guys.”

“Training?” Derek echoed, an edge of concern creeping into his voice. “What kind of training?”

“Just some physical stuff,” Stiles said, shrugging. “Nothing to worry about.”

Derek’s brow furrowed slightly, but before he could respond, Scott broke in, “Okay, let’s get some pizza and catch up! We’ve got plenty of stories to share.”

As Scott dialed for the pizza, Stiles tried to relax, engaging in conversation with the pack, sharing laughs and memories. But every so often, he would catch Derek’s gaze, and the tension would return, nagging at him.

Eventually, the pizza arrived, and everyone settled down to eat. Stiles found himself in a lively conversation with Gally and Minho, sharing stories about their latest adventures, when suddenly Derek leaned in closer, his voice low.

“Are you really happy, Stiles?” he asked, his eyes searching.

Stiles felt the weight of the question, the truth of it hanging heavy in the air. “Yeah, I am,” he replied, looking Derek straight in the eyes. “I’m happy with Newt.”

Derek’s expression tightened for a moment before he nodded slowly, seemingly resigned. “Good. I just… I want you to be safe.”

Stiles felt a mix of frustration and understanding. “I appreciate that, Derek, but I’m not the same scared kid I used to be. I can handle myself.”

“Maybe, but this town has a way of throwing surprises at you,” Derek said, his voice laced with concern.

Before Stiles could respond, Minho jumped in, teasingly elbowing Stiles. “Hey, let’s focus on the pizza before it gets cold! Who’s going for the last slice?”

The conversation shifted again, laughter filling the room, but Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that things between him and Derek were far from resolved. He would have to figure out how to address it eventually, but for now, surrounded by friends, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

As the laughter echoed in the room, Stiles noticed Derek’s intense gaze fixed on him. It sent a shiver down his spine, an unsettling reminder of the tension that had been brewing since he arrived. Stiles shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling exposed under Derek’s scrutiny.

“Uh, hey, Stiles! Are you going to eat that last slice?” Gally called out, breaking through the heavy silence. He stepped in front of Derek, blocking his line of sight.

“Uh, yeah, I was just…” Stiles started, grateful for the distraction. He grabbed the slice and took a big bite, hoping to hide his discomfort behind a mouthful of pizza.

“Nice move, Gally,” Newt said with a chuckle, nudging Gally with his elbow. “Keeping the brooding werewolf at bay.”

“Someone had to do it,” Gally replied with a smirk, then turned to Stiles. “So, what’s the plan for you and Newt? Are you guys taking on the world or just causing trouble?”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile, the playful banter easing his unease. “A bit of both, I think. We’re definitely going to make some noise.”

As they joked around, Stiles couldn’t help but sneak glances at Derek. He noticed that even with Gally standing in the way, Derek’s expression was a mix of frustration and longing. Stiles felt a pang of sympathy; they had a history that was hard to shake off.

“Stiles, are you ever going to tell us about that fight you had with Derek?” Kira asked, her tone teasing but curious.

Stiles swallowed hard, glancing at Derek, who now looked slightly uncomfortable himself. “I mean, it was just… a misunderstanding,” he said, not wanting to delve into the details of the argument.

“Misunderstanding? He called you weak!” Liam interjected, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s definitely not just a misunderstanding,” Minho added, crossing his arms. “What kind of boyfriend does that?”

Stiles felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Can we not make this a thing?” he said, trying to deflect the attention away from the argument. “Derek and I just had a moment, and we’re working through it. Right, Derek?”

Derek remained silent, his jaw tightening as he avoided Stiles' gaze. It felt like a weight had dropped back into the room, the playful atmosphere shifting into something more serious again.

“Yeah, working through it,” Derek finally replied, his voice low.

Stiles bit his lip, the disappointment settling in. He turned back to Gally and Minho, forcing a smile. “So, what’s the plan for tonight? I hear there’s a movie marathon happening.”

“Only if we get to pick the movies,” Gally said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “No cheesy rom-coms, please.”

“I’ll do my best,” Stiles replied, grateful for the lightheartedness. He could feel Derek’s gaze still lingering on him, but he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on enjoying the time with his friends.

As the night continued, the tension simmered beneath the surface, but Stiles held onto the warmth of laughter and companionship, hoping that when the time was right, he and Derek would find a way to address what was left unsaid.

As Stiles and his friends entered the house, the atmosphere was unusually tense. Stiles felt a knot form in his stomach, expecting the usual chaos that came with his dad's life. Instead, he found Noah sitting at the kitchen table, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles said, trying to read his father's expression. “What’s up?”

Noah looked up, and for a moment, Stiles felt a sense of dread wash over him. “Stiles, I need to talk to you about something.”

Stiles exchanged glances with Newt, Gally, and Minho, who hovered nearby, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern. “What is it?”

“I’m moving to Virginia,” Noah said, his voice steady but somber. “I just… I can’t take the supernatural anymore. It’s too much.”

Stiles blinked, the words sinking in. “Oh, that’s great, Dad!” he exclaimed, his excitement bubbling to the surface. “That’s actually perfect for me! I’ve been thinking about living there since you know… I’ve made some new friends.”

Noah looked surprised, raising an eyebrow. “You’re okay with this?”

“Of course! I mean, it makes sense. We can start fresh, and I’m basically already there with Aaron and everything.” Stiles felt a rush of relief; he had felt torn about being in Beacon Hills, but this was a solution that felt right.

“Really? I thought you’d be upset,” Noah said, a hint of worry still lacing his tone.

Stiles shrugged, forcing a smile. “Nah, I’m just glad to know you’re doing what’s best for you. And honestly, I’ll be closer to Aaron, so it’s a win-win.”

Gally chimed in, “Plus, you’ll finally be away from all the werewolf drama. It sounds like a plan.”

Newt nodded in agreement, glancing at Stiles with a smile. “And it gives you the chance to really focus on your training without distractions.”

“Exactly,” Stiles said, feeling a surge of optimism. “I mean, I’ve got my own life to figure out, and being in Virginia will help me with that. I’m ready for a new chapter.”

As Noah looked at his son, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and pride. “Alright, then. I’ll start making arrangements. I just wanted to tell you first before anything gets finalized.”

Stiles felt the tension in the room lift, replaced by a sense of possibility. “Thanks for telling me, Dad. We’ll figure it out together.”

With that, the conversation shifted to the logistics of the move, the excitement growing as they discussed potential new adventures. Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that this change was exactly what he needed, both for him and his dad.

As they moved to the living room, Stiles felt a newfound sense of hope. He was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that his life was about to take a turn for the better.

That night, after a long day filled with emotions and decisions, the group settled in for the night. Stiles led Newt to his room, a space that felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the day. The familiar scent of his room wrapped around them like a warm blanket, and Stiles felt a sense of comfort settle in as they both climbed into bed.

Newt curled up beside Stiles, his head resting against Stiles' shoulder. Stiles smiled, enjoying the warmth and the easy intimacy between them. “So, how do you feel about all this?” Stiles asked softly, glancing down at Newt.

“I think it’s a good move for you,” Newt replied, his voice sleepy but sincere. “You’ve been through a lot, and starting fresh in Virginia sounds like just what you need.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, feeling his heart swell with gratitude. “It really does. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m ready to leave Beacon Hills behind, especially with everything that happened with Derek.” He paused, the shadow of that conflict lingering at the edges of his mind. “But it’s nice to know I’ll have you and the guys with me.”

“Always,” Newt assured him, tucking himself closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Meanwhile, on the floor, Minho and Gally had set up a makeshift sleeping area, a few blankets piled together. They were laying side by side, their heads close, laughing softly about something they had seen on TV earlier that evening. The camaraderie they shared felt warm and natural, a reminder of the bond they had developed over the past few months.

“Dude, I can’t believe you thought that was a good idea,” Minho said, shaking his head with a grin.

“Oh, come on! It would’ve worked if you hadn’t freaked out,” Gally replied, his tone playful. “Besides, it was hilarious!”

Their laughter mingled in the air, a light-hearted sound that filled the room with a sense of security. Stiles glanced over at them, a smile tugging at his lips as he witnessed the easy friendship that had formed between the four of them.

“Hey, you two, try not to keep us up all night,” Stiles called out teasingly.

“Us? You’re the one making all the noise,” Gally shot back with a wink.

Stiles rolled his eyes playfully and then turned his attention back to Newt. “You think they’ll ever grow up?”

“Not a chance,” Newt chuckled, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist. “But that’s what makes them fun.”

As the laughter subsided and the room grew quieter, Stiles felt a sense of peace settle over him. He took a deep breath, relaxing into Newt's embrace. The soft rhythm of their breathing harmonized as they drifted closer to sleep, the warmth of companionship wrapping around them.

For the first time in a long while, Stiles felt safe, surrounded by friends who cared for him. No matter what challenges lay ahead, he knew they would face them together, and that thought was enough to lull him into a deep and restful slumber.

The next morning dawned bright and early, the sun streaming through the windows and casting a warm glow over the house. Stiles awoke to the sound of bustling activity coming from downstairs. He rubbed his eyes and stretched before getting out of bed, his heart racing with the excitement of the day ahead.

After a quick breakfast, the group gathered in the living room, ready to help Noah with the move. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a mix of nostalgia and anticipation as they surveyed the chaos of boxes, furniture, and memories that needed to be packed up.

“Alright, team, let’s get this show on the road!” Noah called out, a determined smile on his face. “We’ve got a long drive ahead, and I need all hands on deck.”

Stiles nodded, feeling a surge of motivation. “What’s first, Dad?”

“Let’s start with the U-Haul. We’ll load up your room and the living room first,” Noah instructed.

With that, the group sprang into action. Stiles directed Minho and Gally on how to carry his desk, while Newt helped him sort through a few last-minute items to take. As they worked, laughter and lighthearted banter filled the air.

“Dude, how did you accumulate so much stuff?” Minho grunted, lifting a particularly heavy box filled with books.

Stiles shrugged, a grin on his face. “It’s called being awesome and having a lot of interests.”

“More like hoarding,” Gally teased, shoving a bag into the back of the U-Haul.

After what felt like hours but was actually only a couple, they finally finished loading the last of the boxes. Noah stepped back and surveyed the U-Haul with a satisfied nod. “Looks good, everyone! Thanks for the help.”

Stiles felt a swell of pride as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

“Right!” Newt said, clapping Stiles on the back. “Now let’s hit the road before we lose daylight.”

As they piled into the cars, the excitement in the air was palpable. Stiles climbed into the passenger seat beside his dad, while the others packed into the back of the U-Haul. The vehicle was cramped, but the atmosphere was filled with anticipation for their new adventure.

Noah turned on the engine, glancing over at Stiles with a smile. “Ready for this?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles replied, a wide grin breaking across his face. “Virginia, here we come!”

The convoy pulled out of the driveway, and as they hit the road, Stiles looked out the window, watching the familiar sights of Beacon Hills fade into the distance. A mix of emotions swirled inside him, but he felt a sense of freedom. This was a new chapter, a chance to redefine his life away from the shadows of the past.

With music blaring from the speakers, the drive became a shared adventure. The laughter and teasing flowed freely as they navigated the winding roads. Stiles felt grateful for the support of his friends, especially Newt, who sat beside him, their hands intertwined.

As they continued down the highway, Stiles realized he was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead. With his dad and his friends by his side, he felt unstoppable. Virginia was calling, and he couldn’t wait to see what awaited them there.

The drive to Virginia was filled with excitement, and as they finally arrived at their new home, Stiles couldn’t help but feel a mix of nerves and anticipation. The house stood tall and welcoming, a charming two-story with a front porch that seemed to beckon them in. Noah had already purchased the place, and Stiles could see a lot of potential in it.

“Welcome home, everyone!” Noah announced, stepping out of the U-Haul and gesturing grandly toward the house. “Let’s get unpacking!”

Stiles hopped out, eager to explore. The scent of fresh paint lingered in the air as he stepped inside, the spacious living room revealing light streaming through large windows. The walls were a soft cream color, perfect for the decorations Stiles envisioned.

“Alright, let’s start with the boxes!” Noah instructed, leading the charge into the house.

Stiles, Newt, Minho, and Gally followed him in, ready to tackle the task ahead. They quickly got into the rhythm of unpacking, each person taking on different rooms. Stiles and Newt headed to his bedroom, where stacks of boxes awaited them.

“First things first, let’s get your bed set up,” Newt suggested, grabbing a box labeled “Bedding.”

“Good call,” Stiles agreed, excitement bubbling inside him. “Then we can figure out how to arrange everything else.”

As they worked, they joked and reminisced about their time together in Beacon Hills, making the process feel less like a chore and more like a bonding experience.

Meanwhile, Gally and Minho tackled the living room, moving furniture and positioning the couch just right. “This place is awesome, Stiles! Your dad really outdid himself,” Minho called over his shoulder, adjusting a lamp.

“Right? I can’t believe we actually live here now,” Stiles replied, feeling a thrill at the thought.

After setting up the bed, Stiles began to unpack his personal items, putting up posters and pictures on the walls. Newt helped him hang up a large poster of the ‘Maze Runner’ movie, grinning as he did so. “Now it really feels like home.”

With everything coming together, Stiles felt a sense of belonging wash over him. They finished unpacking the last of the boxes in the bedroom, and Newt plopped down on the bed, stretching his arms out. “This is cozy.”

“Agreed. Now we just need to make it our own,” Stiles said, joining him on the bed. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, a content smile on his face.

After a while, they regrouped with Noah, who had been busy in the kitchen preparing lunch. “Alright, guys, I made sandwiches! Come grab some food before you get back to work.”

The group made their way to the kitchen, where the smell of fresh bread and deli meats filled the air. They gathered around the table, laughing and sharing stories as they dug into their meal.

“So, what do you think of Virginia so far?” Noah asked, looking around at the group.

“It’s great!” Stiles replied, his heart full. “It’s definitely a change, but I’m excited to see what’s next.”

After lunch, they headed back to unpack, but the day continued to flow seamlessly. The rooms began to take shape, filled with the personality and memories of their new life. Stiles felt grateful for the support of his friends and the fresh start ahead.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow through the windows, Stiles took a moment to soak it all in. Virginia was becoming a new home, and with every box unpacked and every laugh shared, he felt a sense of hope and anticipation for what lay ahead.

As the last box was unpacked and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the room, Stiles and Newt found themselves lying on Stiles bed. The space felt cozy and inviting, now adored with personal touches that made it feel like home.

Stiles reclined back against his pillow, a content smile on his face as he looked over at Newt, who was propped up on one elbow, watching him with a soft gaze. The moment was perfect, a culmination of all their shared experience.

“Can you believe we actually did it? we unpacked everything” Stiles said, excitement bubbling in his voice.

“ Yeah, and it only took us, what, a few hours?” Newt teased, a playful grin spreading across his face. “ I think we deserve a break after all that hard work.”

With that he leaned in closer, brushed his lips against Stiles in a gentle kiss. Stiles responded eagerly, feeling the warmth of Newt's body against his. Their kiss deepened, the world around them faded away as they melted into one another.

Stiles wrapped his arm around Newt’s neck, pulling him even closer, feeling a sense of safety and warmth that had been missing for so long. He had never felt this way with anyone before, and it thrilled him.

“Newt…” Stiles murmured between kisses, a smile playing on his lips.
“ this feels perfect”

Newt chuckled softly, brushing his fingers through Stiles' hair. “ Yeah it really does, I'm glad we're here together “

As they continued to kiss, time seemed to stand still. Stiles' heart raced, the intensity of the moment enveloping him. He pulled back slightly, looking into Newt's eyes. “ I really like this …. Us”

“ Me too .. Tommy” Newt replied , using his nickname he had adopted from the Glade. “ I want to make this work, no matter what”

Feeling a rush of affection, Stiles leans into the kiss with Newt again, their lips moving in harmony. He felt lighter than air, free from the weight of his past and chaos of Beacon Hills. Here, in this moment he could just be Stiles. Without the baggage of being the son of Sheriff Noah Stilinski or the ex boyfriend of Derek Hale.

They pulled away again, foreheads resting against each other, both breathing heavy. Stiles chuckled, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside him. “ What do you want to do now?”

“Maybe we can watch a movie or something?” Newt suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “ or… we could stay here a little while longer”

“ option two sounds perfect” Stiles said, grinning as he snuggled closer to Newt, feeling his heart swell with happiness. The world outside can wait; for now,they were in their own little bubble, where nothing mattered except for the two of them.

They settled into a comfortable silence,wrapping up in each other’s warmth, Stiles feeling more at peace than he had in a long time. The day had been full of change, but in that moment, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.