packpapa | (no subject)

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( c ) brigid finn ➜ bostonhowler

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Summer is truly starting to set in as the sun rises slowly in the blue, cloudless sky, and the birds outside are chirping merrily. But with the large window covering most of the wall in the main living space and the sunlight above, Derek stirs with a groan, burying his face further into the warm pillow and the covers surrounding him to shield his sensitive eyes.

He feels a little groggy as he starts to pull himself out from the depths of sleep, not that far from what it feels like after experiencing wolfsbane in his system, and, what he can only assume, it feels like to have a hangover.

It doesn't take long for him to fully come to his senses and when he does he jolts up with a start. Brigid. He looks to his right where she's still lying beside him, but thankfully he doesn't appear to have disturbed her. She looks peaceful in slumber, he thinks, unable to remove his eyes from her sleeping form, and he reaches out without thinking about it, carefully brushing the wild strands of red hair away from her face. He finds himself smiling, almost as if nothing's changed and they're still teenagers without a care in the world, but the weight of the darkness around his heart doesn't let him forget for long.

He's glad she's here, he realises, even though he still can't let himself believe it's going to last; he wants to, but he can't. The second he starts to let himself hope, he knows everything can only go downhill from there, it always does. But maybe if she sticks around long enough, if she manages to settle without bolting as soon as she discovers every single sordid detail, and he knows she's going to have to meet the others at some point.

Derek carefully manoeuvres himself into a sitting position, back against the head of the bed and covers hanging over his clothed lap. He didn't plan to sleep through the entire night and half of the morning as well, but he needed it, and he knows that Brigid did as well. And he can already feel a lot of the weariness gone from the solid night of sleep. He catches the fresh scent of Isaac, but he can't hear his heartbeat from within the loft, so he knows he must have been and gone, always trying to stay out of his way to make sure he's not a nuisance. He doesn't mind having him around, though, and it's not as if either of them have anyone else, but he can't help feeling relief that he can hold off on introductions a while longer until he can catch her up with the recent going-ons.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, watching as the sun fully rises in the sky and glancing down to the woman beside him, a woman he never thought he would get to meet and the memories of the girl she used to be faded from the hard years that followed. He's an alpha, yes, but he knows he's far from perfect, that he wasn't born to the role, and that he's going to make a lot more mistakes before he finds his feet. And he's still got a long way to go before he can be anything to anyone beyond that, but if she's at his side then he thinks he can learn to try that much harder to discover who he was supposed to be before he got thrown off course.

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Engaged. It's a word he's still trying to get used to, one he was certain he would never think of again in relation to himself, but he supposes that the two of them are, technically, engaged, promised to one another, and as long as it's what they still want then that's not changed.

"It might makes things easier in front of the pack," he admits with a frown, but if the two of them do stick it out together and get married, he thinks he would prefer to be equals in as many ways as possible, even if he's always going to be strong as an alpha. "We'll figure it out."

He keeps looking around, wondering if the loft isn't enough for the two of them now, but he knows he's jumping the gun; he's barely moved in, the house still his for a little while longer, and she's not even been with him a full day.

"There's net." He makes a face at the fact, Isaac and Stiles actually coming together to fight him on it until he did it simply to shut them up, and, admittedly, it comes in useful as far as research goes. He grabs her laptop, connecting it up and switching it on, putting it down on the bed. "There."

She laughs, padding back down the stairs. Her hair is actually contained for the moment. She's pulled it back with a headband and run a comb through it. At least it doesn't look like she's stuck her finger in a socket. "Derek, I haul around that book and I love the internet." She's spent more time in dusty libraries than she'd like to admit. "And, I've been in catacombs that double as a library, surrounded by skeletons. Don't tell me you aren't net-savvy." She's allowed to tease him.

She climbs back into the bed with him. Sitting with her back to the headboard, she frowns and pokes a few keys on her keyboard, before the red of Netflix fills the screen. Quickly, she is scrolling through movies. "I have no idea what you want to watch. Most of my favorites are documentaries, along with a few B-movie horror." Especially the werewolf ones. Carlos had never understood why she laughed at them so much. "So...?" She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

She'd heard the engaged bit, and she knows that it might make it easier around the pack. Honestly, for the first time since she was fourteen, she's contemplating it without dread, without worry. Caring for Derek comes easily to her, and the intervening years haven't changed that. She knows that Markus had been... well, "shopping" is the only word for it, for another husband for her. Brigid had pretended not to hear, but it'd churned her stomach.

He half sights and half groans, head dropping down, because he's had this conversation, or variations of it, more times than he cares to remember. "I can use a computer." Well, if switching it on and opening a browser counts, but he's got no idea what to do if anything goes wrong.

"Horror movie." He could do with a laugh, and half of those things are so beyond ridiculous they're less horror and more comedy as far as he's concerned, especially as far as being realistic goes. "Unless you had something in mind."

It's surprising to him that he finds this so easy, to sit beside her while she leans into him and to be sliding his arm around her back to keep her close, sighing with what he suspects might possibly be contentment. He's missed the closeness in general, contact and touch, but he knows this is a little different, he can feel it, and the fact there's a lack of impending doom helps him to relax completely.

She laughs at him. Because he looks so hopeless about the internet. She probably shouldn't tease him about it, but it's cute. People think her archaic, but there are requirements for computer programming classes for most history majors. She had liked them, even if they hadn't been her forte.

"You'll love it: BattleDogs is hilariously awful." She queues it up, leaning against him. She shifts so the laptop is on both of their legs. Her eyes drift halfway shut.

"You can ask me, you know. Anything about anything." He'd said he'd wanted to know about their time apart, but hasn't asked. "I'll answer." She thinks for a second. "I might have to go to Confession after admitting everything, but I need to find a new church anyway. And a priest."

She's still Catholic, still refuses to give up her faith, no matter what goes on.

He doesn't pout, he doesn't, but it's a close thing; he does manage a scowl, though, even if there's no real heat behind it. She's not one of the frustrating teenagers he seems to find himself amongst more times than not, but that doesn't mean he's going to go completely easy on her.

"I'll take your word for it." But he doesn't object, letting her settle in as he does the same, and balancing the laptop carefully as he does. "It's been a while since I've been able to sit and watch a movie." And even longer since he's been able to truly relax.

It's a good few minutes before he says anything, but he hums to let her know he's listening, to acknowledge; he's not sure if he wants to know everything or not, but it's more because he knows he's missed the time with her that he'll never get back rather than that he doesn't want to know.

"What happened to your father?" The words come out before he can stop them, because he knows what it's like to have family brought up, and the fact she's avoided the subject since she arrived makes him almost certain that the answer isn't going to be a good one.

She leans against him, taking comfort just from him being there. She's missed him for so long and been through a lot - nothing compared to him, she's sure - but he's like coming home again. Like recapturing the innocent fun they'd once had together.

"After we left here, Da asked Markus about cluing in his girlfriend to the whole werewolf thing." She barely remembers the woman. "Remember? I wrote you about how she bathed in her perfume and didn't understand why I hated having her over?" She'd complained long and loud both on the phone and in letters.

"Anyway, Markus said no." She shifts a bit next to him, watching the movie intently. "Da obeyed, but he didn't stop seeing her." Some would have, but her Da had loved the woman. "She ended up pregnant. Da petitioned Markus again. She was pregnant with a potential wolf, it wasn't something they could hide from her forever." Even though Brigid had not wanted that woman as part of the pack. "She was about four months along and went to talk to the Emissary, who is also a pediatrician. She was interviewing them or something. Twelve hours later, she miscarried." Brigid's voice drops but she knows he can still hear her.

"Da called me and told me to just go to school and he'd handle everything, even though he knew something was wrong." She bites her bottom lip. "The next day, I was called home from school. I thought Da had been hurt in the line of duty or something. Markus had killed him; Da challenged him because the Emissary had fed her something that had caused her to miscarry. Da lost." Her fingers twist together. "Da wrote me a letter explaining everything, including the test results and his side of the story. I still have all of it. Insurance against Markus." She plans on keeping it forever too. Especially if he protests her leaving.

He doesn't even try to hide the huff of amusement and the smirk that twitches at the corners of his mouth, because he remembers the long rants both in letters and over the phone as if they were yesterday, and although it's been a while, he did keep the letters and re-read them occasionally, even if it ended up being to torture himself with a future he should have had and no longer thought possible after what he did.

"I remember." He nods, encouraging her to go on, and listening when she does, not wanting to interrupt; he knows first-hand that it's not easy to talk about loved ones who are no longer with them, so he doesn't want to stop her. His eyes never leave the screen, but he's focusing more on her reflection in the rum of the laptop screen than he is on what's going on in the film.

He can't quite get his head around what she tells him, though, because an alpha who could kill one of their own, and an unborn who could potentially be pack - well, it pains him to even think about. "You know I would never do anything like that, don't you?" He wants her to know that she's safe here, with him, that even when Erica and Boyd told him they were leaving, he didn't stop them; he thinks he should have, now, for their sake rather than his, but he would never kill one of his own, not willingly. "If he ever comes looking for you, I won't let him hurt you. Not again."

She looks up at him, her eyes startled. "Derek, I would never think you would do something like that. Ever." Hard life or not, no matter what, she knows that he wouldn't twist something so innocent into a horrible tragedy. Not on purpose. He's not Markus, and she knows it. He may still be new to being an Alpha, but the broken man who'd confessed to her last night about the pack, and about his fault in what happened just isn't capable of that level of cruelty.

She shifts, putting the laptop in his lap and turning him to face her. Her hands cup his face carefully, making sure he's looking at her. "No matter what has happened, no matter what you may think of yourself, you are not cruel or wasteful of life, Derek." She takes a deep breath. "You are a better person, a better Alpha, and I will keep reminding you of that, because obviously you need it."

Her mouth twitches. "And before you rip Markus's throat out, I'll remind him, smugly, that I hold information that most Alphas will come after him for. And remind him that I have no problem sending other packs after his." She shrugs. "And if you rip his throat out after that, well, so be it."

He visibly relaxes at the words, tension he didn't realise had been building up as she spoke slowly seeping out, and he feels more relieved than he does deserving on them. He's make a lot of mistakes, and he's dug himself into a hole he's still working on climbing out of, but he knows he could never, ever sink as low as her alpha clearly has, not even if he were to gain more power by forming a complete pack again.

His hand automatically reaches out to keep the laptop in place and from tipping over, but he doesn't object when she turns him to look her way. He does need the reminder, but he doesn't tell her as much; he doesn't really care what happens to him, he's not sure if he has for a while, because the point of surviving alone stopped being enough a while ago. But he does care about what happens to her, and he knows she makes him stronger, she already is making him stronger, but it's got nothing to do with adding to the power of the pack.

"You stole my favourite line." His smile is weak, not quite reaching his eyes, but still he tries to make a little light of the topic. He does, after all, enjoy threatening to rip out throats with his teeth. "I would, you know," he confesses in nothing more than a whisper, "If he hurt you." The fact that he bit a hunter not too long ago is a reminder of what he's capable of if he lets his instinct to protect take over, and she got off lightly.

She will always be a part of his pack. She's always wanted to be. Coming here, Brigid has realized that she really wants to marry him still. She wants to honor the deal made long ago between their parents. Not just for his pack, not just for herself. She wants to marry him because she likes him. No matter what has happened, she can tell that the person he is is something she loves and needs in her life.

And Derek seems to need her as well.

"Which one?" Brigid hasn't heard him threaten people's throats. It's a wolf-thing that she's heard others make. She never has, but she's not a fighter. She much prefers taking people down intellectually.

But his threat to Markus makes her mouth twitch just the tiniest bit. She appreciates it, because it's really the first time that anyone has been on her side, and at her defense since her Da died. "I'd let you do it, even if I can't stand the thought of you hurt."

"I'll rip your throat out," he offers, leaning in a little closer, eyes flashing red with a little too much teeth, "With my teeth." He smiles, and this time it does reach his eyes, the corners crinkling slightly with it. He doesn't realise how closer he is, though, until his gaze flickers down to her mouth, and then he's pulling back a little; he doesn't want to take advantage, even though he's tempted. "It's - it was - an old inside family joke. But it used to work on irritating teenagers who enjoy making my life difficult."

He wouldn't do it lightly, though, but he would do it; he did it with Peter, for Laura as much as for his own selfish gain, and to protect Scott from shouldering more responsibility at such a young age when he's barely staying afloat. Or at least those are the reasons he justifies his actions with when he's alone in the dark of night.

"I'd heal." It's true, and as an alpha he heals that much faster, or he did before Erica and Boyd left; he really does need to figure out another member of the pack if they're going to be strong enough to actually come up against another pack, and as much as he had hoped, he doubts Scott will ever agree to join willingly again, especially not after retracting the offer. "But unless word gets out that you're here with me, it'll never come to that."

She almost smiles at the threat, because she knows he'd never do it to her. He might joke, but that's all it would be. Of course, she'd have to point out that he'd have to catch her first.

Brigid is fascinated by his red eyes. Before, they've meant trouble, or orders, or a flexing of power. Now, they mean safety, protection, pack. Everything has changed so quickly, it's enough to take her breath away.

Disappointment flushes through her when he doesn't kiss her. She wishes he would. It wouldn't be her first kiss, but not far from it. Oh well.

"I know you'd heal, but that doesn't mean I want you hurt." She whispers. They all heal. But seeing someone she cares about hurt isn't something she likes to see.

Brigid sighs. "Markus might guess. He might be a brute, but he's not stupid. There aren't many places I would go. And I told Senora Montoya where I was going, since she's handling the sale of the house and the contents." She shrugs. "But again, I have the book, and Da's letter, and the blood work stuff." Her thumbs brush his cheeks again. "And the Hale Alpha. The name still holds weight in some corners. Plus, Markus isn't going to renege on the deal made, if you invoke it."

He doesn't know why, but he pays attention to the beat of her heart at the words, and it's been a while since anyone cared enough to voice their concerns over his welfare. He's moving before he really realises what he's doing, a gentle hand caressing her cheek, thumb drawing back and forth along her jaw line. "You don't need to worry about me." He's good at surviving, it's one of the few things he's got right over the years, and he knows that it makes him dangerous to an extent, but he's learning, becoming a person he can better live with every day, and he knows with her around, sticking by his side, he'll get better at it with time.

He leans into her touch before he can stop himself, eyes closing as he sighs, and he rests his forehead against hers, voice lowering to a soft whisper. "Do you still want me to?"

She licks her lips, knowing he can hear her heart. She wants him to. She wants him to hear the utter truth she's telling him, wants him to know that she hasn't given up on him - as if her showing up out of the blue wasn't enough.

"Someone has to, Derek. You need someone to, no matter what you think. I'm willing to take on that task." Because it was supposed to be her anyways. She wants it still and is willing to fight even him for it. Someone needs to fight for him, right? Well, Brigid will.

His question makes her heart stutter just the tiniest bit. Nerves make it skip, not dishonesty. "If you're willing, yes." She whispers back. "Is breá liom tú." The words 'I love you' come easier in Gaelic, than English. "I never stopped, Derek. Never." She'd held onto the dream, even though he'd been supposedly dead.

Things are different, now, and they both know that, but even after everything on both sides, nothing seems to have changed, or at least nothing that matters when it comes to the two of them.

He's not sure if that scares him more because it's a strange feeling, one with hope, and every other time he's experienced that something tragic has quickly followed, or if he fears for her, for what she's entering, because she doesn't deserve his worst day and he knows there will no doubt be a few.

But he's tired of fighting it, fighting himself, and he's selfish because he's lost and lonely, and he doesn't want to be anymore, not now, not with her sitting right there, touching him as if he matters, like he's important; he's not been important to anyone since Laura, and even then things weren't the way they used to be.

Without another word, Derek closes what distance there is left, lips brushing against hers gingerly, a few false starts along the way, like he's not sure if it's the right thing to do, the tail-end of a battle he doesn't want to lose winning out as he finally presses his lips to hers, drawing her into a slow but firm kiss that's both chaste and desperate all at once, a quiet little whimpering escaping him as he loses himself in it, in her.

There are feelings that she's never really felt before. Most of them to do with the carnal side of life. Brigid has kept herself so busy, so focused on things that aren't relationships that that side of her life has always suffered. Carlos is literally the only person she could ever call a friend, and the only person she's ever kissed.

It's nothing like when Derek's lips touch hers. There's a feeling in the pit of her stomach, right under her heart like finally she's where she's supposed to be, like this, right here, is where every path she's taken has led.

Her heart stutters in her chest, nerves asserting themselves through her inexperience.

But one thing she's always been is a quick student. Her lips fit to his, warm and soft and pliable. Brigid follows his lead. Honestly, she doesn't know what she's doing, but she does like it.

His lips curl up into a smile against hers at the sound of her heart stuttering, and if he weren't focusing on it so much, he might realise his own is worse, speeding up until it's pounding in his chest, like it knows this is a risk considering what happened with the last person he thought he knew, thought he love.

But he knows that Brigid is different, and he knows that she's so far from being Kate, even if he can't quite convince the rest of his body.

He reluctantly draws the kiss to a close, pulling away so slightly he barely moves, and he basks in the closeness.

"I've wondered what that would be like for a long time," he whispers softly, eyes slowly flickering open to search hers. "And I wanted to do since the moment I realised who you were."

She's not sure whose heartbeat she is hearing right now and doesn't care. Her forehead rests against his and she can't help but lick her lips. They still taste like him and Brigid really wishes he would do that again. A small smile curls her lips and she huffs out a laugh.

Her eyes flick up to his, unaware that her cheeks are pink, and growing redder by the moment. "I've wanted you to do that since we were teenagers." She lowers her eyes and she clears her throat. "I thought you were going to after we fell in the stream that one night."

But he hadn't. Now he had and it had been well worth the wait. "But, I'm glad you waited." She whispers against his mouth.

"I wanted to," he admits, smiling at the memory, and it's a real smile, a twinkle in his eyes as he remembers it like it was yesterday. "But I was more concerned about getting you dry and warm." And it would have been taking advantage.

He gently strokes her hair back away from her face, running his thumbs over the pink, heated flesh of her cheeks.

"I have a lot of making up to do." He leans in, brushing their lips together teasingly. "If you'll let me."

She giggles. "You were worried our parents were going to have a fit, since we weren't supposed to be out." A midnight run, under a full moon, neither of them able to sleep. Sneaking out in a house of wolves is impossible; yet, they'd climbed out the windows anyway, unfettered by their parents.

Her blush deepens. There are things she should tell him. Like how she really is a good little Catholic girl. She'd promised her Da that she would marry first, and she'll keep to that. Plus, she really should find a new priest and go to Confession and all these other things. But sitting here, so close to him, she's beginning to understand why some people don't wait.

"You don't owe me anything, Derek, but I won't -"

"SEE?!"

The almost shouted word makes Brigid jerk back in shock. They'd been so wrapped up in one another they hadn't heard the three boys come in. The floppy-haired one she'd seen the night before waves at them.

"Dude, you gotta put a sock on the door or something. There's bro codes and stuff." The skinny one - he smells human - shakes his head.

Brigid's eyebrows go up. "Is he always so crass?" Her hand reaches for Derek's, worried in the face of a trio of boys she has no idea who they are. She really hopes Derek knows them.

"Because you weren't scared of my mom," he laughs, but it falters as he realises it's the first time in a long time he's had fond memories to look back on that aren't tainted with guilt. It's different, as painful as it is a relief, refreshing, but it's going to take him time to adjust to.

Before he can close the distance and kiss her again, Derek comes to the realisation that they're no longer alone a second too late, but a moment before the voices carry.

He hangs his head and groans, taking in a deep breath, because as much as he wants her to meet the pack and their allies, he had been hoping to get a little more time with her alone first.

"Stiles," he warns, exasperated, but not really surprised. "Do I need to go over the knocking policy again?"

He gives Isaac a look, as if this is all his fault, and he lowers his head sheepishly.

"Yes," he answers in response to Brigid's question. "Unfortunately." He holds onto her hand without really thinking about it, thumb stroking the back of it soothingly, reassuring her that she's safe. "The crass one is Stiles, the surprised into silence one is Scott, and I think you've already met Isaac."

After having an Alpha like Markus, Talia Hale had been wonderful and welcome. Brigid had always hoped to be one of her Betas, just because she'd seemed so warm and welcoming. It had been so different that Brigid had asked her Da if they couldn't switch packs, but that's so unusual that he'd shut her down. Maybe....

"Dude, Isaac shows up and says there's some strange wolf here, we're going to come." The one called Stiles points out.

"Peter was the last one." Scott puts in, obviously finally finding his voice.

Isaac clears his throat and raises a hand. "Hi."

Brigid just holds onto Derek's hand, letting him reassure her. It certainly stops the moment when two wolves and a human burst in. "Hi. I'm Brigid."

Scott just looks confused, like she just waved a pepper in front of a puppy. "You two are married?"

Not yet. But she doesn't say it. She just puts her head on Derek's shoulder. He really needs help with his pack. "It's Irish." She grumbles.

"Speaking of evil, where is he?" Stiles asks, peering around, as if he's going to pop up from behind something at any moment. "'Cause I'm still in favour of killing him again, just in case you were wondering."

Derek ignores Stiles entirely because he's not having this discussion again, not right now, and then he rolls his eyes at Isaac and Scott; he fights the urge to growl as he takes note of the way Isaac as eyeing her up a little bashfully.

"Brigid's in the pack. If you have any questions or comments, keep them to yourselves." Because, really, the finer details are none of their business. "Scott, if you see the Argents before I do, let them know she's with us."

He turns his head and nuzzles the top of hers, whispering so quietly only she can should be able to hear, "Technically, only Isaac is pack, but the others are good. I...trust them."

Brigid likes the attention that Derek is giving her, even if she probably shouldn't revel in it quite so much in front of the others. She nods against his shoulder, imperceptibly. "If you trust them, I'll try." She won't blindly trust them, but she will try, because he is her Alpha now.

"You bit someone else?" Stiles blurts out. He seems to do that a lot.

Brigid's head jerks up and she growls, her eyes glowing blue. "I was born a wolf. My Da was a wolf." Her eyes fade back to brown, watching Scott step in front of Stiles. "And even if he had, it isn't your right to question an Alpha." Her back straightens. "He makes the decisions for the pack."

"His decisions haven't always been the best." Scott points out.

She raises an eyebrow. "Because you're the Alpha and know everything?" Brigid doesn't like wolves that challenge Alphas without reason. Especially not in front of a new Wolf whom they don't know.

Brigid looks at Derek. "Maybe I shouldn't work for a while and should teach these kids manners?" Is she being arrogant? Yes, but she's also a pack wolf that knows how bad Alphas can actually be.

Sometimes, Derek wishes that the ground would simply open up and swallow him whole, and this is definitely one of those times. But as much as he appreciates Brigid's input, he knows that Scott is right, and that he's still trying to clean up the mess he's made; he seems to only be making things worse every time he tries, though. She'll be good for the pack, if he doesn't get her killed first, but he'll die before he lets that happen.

"You can try," he throws out, sceptically looking at everyone around him. It's not as if he's the best at communication never mind manners, and he almost wants to laugh at how much better she would be as an alpha; she's been in a pack her entire life, and he's almost forgotten what it's like, or he's tried hard not to remember because it's too painful.

"I've known Brigid a long time. She's from a pack in Boston, but she's with us now. And you don't need to know anything else."

He gives Scott a glowering look, out of spite more than anything, because he's still not quite over the fact he came up with his own plan, forgot to let Derek in on it, and then used him to achieve his goal. He doesn't plan on giving the bite to anyone else, not after Jackson; he should have known better, but he's not planning to make the same mistake again.