The Undisclosed

Chaoter 1. Omegas man

Omegas
The Bitches

Now whether the supernatural world meant that in a derogative manner, or if they were trying to warn everyone that the wolves were basically teenager girls – fully equipped with fur and teeth – Stiles wasn't sure. Hell, he half expected that the next time they ran into their latest problem, she would inform him that his shoes didn't match his pants or that the messy hair style really wasn't in anymore.

Of course, if Stiles was being completely honest with himself, the look really wasn't.

"Stiles, you are aware of what the words; treading lightly entail, correct?" Derek growled lowly, red eyes peeking over a broad shoulder.

Shrugging, Stiles purposefully stepped on a twig, smiling when the crack echoed. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of your male pride," he snipped, gesturing vaguely at the topless man as he pushed his thoughts to the side. "I mean come on, I was in bed – asleep – when you called and I still managed to show up fully clothed. How is it that you couldn't find the time to slip on a shirt?"

Derek cocked a brow, his stride slowing and allowing the boy to catch up. "Stiles, you're wearing Batman pyjamas," he pointed out, snorting under his breath.

"And you're not wearing a shirt," Stiles retorted. "They're still pants, sourwolf. Batman or not"

Grunting, Derek began to move forward again, tearing his eyes away from the teenager. "I'd rather be wearing nothing at all then whatever the hell you call those things," he muttered, ears twitching as he listened to their surroundings.

"How is it that you've managed to steer the conversation from your lack of a shirt, to my lack of a fashion sense?" Stiles questioned before faltering, a quizzical expression tightening his lips. "Well, not lack of a fashion sense per say, I at least have more than one shirt and a single pair of dark jeans."

Slowly turning, Derek lifted both brows, looking down at the plain sweats he wore. Stiles followed his gaze, his own eyes falling onto the material before he scoffed, throwing both his hands into the air for emphasis. "Oh, sorry, you have a pair of sweatpants," Stiles rolled his eyes before smiling. "So is that why you're not wearing a shirt? Let me guess, your only Henley didn't match your sweats?"

Derek gnashed his teeth, eyes flashing. "Stiles," he warned, stalking forward. The frustration from not only failing to hunt down the rogue werewolf, but also from losing the argument with the over active child was leaking through, his features shifting wolfishly. "Shut up, or I'll make you shut up."

Stiles held up his hands. "Yeesh, fine, sorry. You do know we're here looking for an omega, not your lost pride, right?" he grumbled, shoving both his hands into his jacket pockets. "Just admit that the Henley doesn't match; no need to get all eyebrowsy over it."

Derek stopped again, ready to growl out an answer when a lone howl echoed through the dark woods. Both men stopped, their mouths open in confusion and eyes locked before they jumped into action; darting through the trees and dodging stray branches. Admittedly, Derek reached the location first, his eyes widening as the teenager stumbled through the tree behind him.

Stiles blanched at the sight, realising why the alpha had frozen. The omega was here alright and currently locked in a fierce battle with Scott, both snapping and clawing at each other like there was no tomorrow. Isaac stood off to the side, slumped against a tree and cradling his shoulder while he watched the fight fearfully. His wolfed out features and expression revealed that it he was the one who had called for help, no doubt shocked that the single wolf had managed to cause so much trouble.

Golden pools of fear locked onto the pair, widening. "Derek?" Isaac called, his good hand reaching out for them. "Help?"

The plea damn near broke Stiles heart, and judging by the growl building in the alpha's chest; it hurt Derek as well. Stalking forward, Derek snarled at the one person who had dared to touch his pack, his eyes bleeding red.