A House Full of Wolves

Chapter 3

Four days later the pack met in front of the rebuilt Hale house. The builders had completed their work the day before and everything was set for them to move in, which would happen in two days time. The day before, Derek had taken Isaac back to the furniture store to pick out what he wanted to have in his bedroom. The wolf had been completely overwhelmed with the fact that he was allowed to choose whatever he wanted, and it had taken Erica holding his hand the entire trip through the store to get him to calm down. Again and again he had insisted that Derek would spend too much money on him, but Derek hadn’t reacted to any of his protests. The pup really had to make up time of being cared for. Along with Isaac’s furniture, the three wolves had also picked out other necessities that would be vital for them to live in the house.

The pack had also gone to a hardware store to pick out paint. They had agreed as a unit that white walls just wouldn’t do. So far they had only concentrated on paint for the rooms that would be frequented regularly for the next few months. What use was it to paint the walls in rooms that wouldn’t even be occupied for the time being! Erica had pouted at Derek’s decision, but he had soothed her growls with a promise that she could have free reign with the paint for the walls that would eventually be ‘her’ room. Derek had planned the house so that every one of his betas would have a room to stay there over night, and in a bed, so really, every one of them had their own bedroom at the pack’s new house.

To get the paintjob out of the way quickly, the pack had divided into smaller groups, so multiple rooms could be done simultaneously, because the more rooms could be painted at the same time, the faster Derek could take the paint away again. It just wasn’t safe to have large buckets of paint in the wolves’ vicinity. It would just end up getting everywhere!

Stiles ended up staying in the movie room with Derek. Yes, they would have a freaking movie room! The paint they had chosen for the room was a deep, warm burgundy that matched the dark brown fabric of the couch perfectly. This room would really be turned into a cozy nest where they could just relax and watch movies.

The pair worked in silence, and for once, Stiles didn’t have the urge to fill the void with incessant chatter about everything and anything. Their silence was companionable; something Stiles hadn’t really experienced with Derek before. Not to this extent, at least. So far, Stiles had always tried to avoid silences, because they just made him feel awkward, but this, them painting walls next to each other, was nice.

In the end it was Derek who broke the silence with a chuckle. Stiles stopped where he was painting and turned to look at the man to his right.

“What’s so funny? Do I have paint on my face? Because that could very well happen! I remember, the last time I helped my dad paint the living room, I ended up with cream colored hair.” And there it was, his incessant chatter. Another chuckle from Derek’s direction made him stop.

“No Stiles, you don’t have paint on your face, don’t worry. Do I have paint on my face?” Stiles stepped over to Derek, his paint brush still in hand, and inspected his face.

“Well, you have something right…there” Stiles said, laughter bubbling up when he lifted his paint brush and dipped it against Derek’s cheek. Derek was immediately left speechless. He lifted his hand to his cheek, and it came back dark red.

“You didn’t just do that” he said very slowly and quietly, but Stiles’ laughter couldn’t be stopped.

“I did didn’t I?!” he brought out between bursts of laughter. His sides were starting to hurt. The look on Derek’s face was just too hilarious.

The alpha wolf slowly started to stalk towards Stiles. The look on his face turned from stunned to mischievous, maybe even a bit predatory, and Stiles’ laughter died in his throat. This didn’t look good for him.

“I think I missed something on your face after all, Stiles” Derek said calmly, and Stiles started to vigorously shake his head.

“No, I think I’m fine, Derek, totally fine! Derek! DEREK!” Stiles backed away from Derek who was coming closer and closer, but there was no outrunning a wolf. Derek’s hand curled around the younger man’s wrist, and persistently, but at the same time carefully, Derek pulled Stiles back into the room, and over to the bucket of paint.

“Derek, I’m warning you! You are not dunking me in the paint! I swear to everything that is good, if you splash paint on me-“

“I’m not going to splash paint on you, Stiles” Derek said, a laugh now evident in his tone of voice, but he still kept pulling Stiles’ arm to the bucket of paint. “You’re going to splash paint on yourself!” And with that Derek dunked Stiles hand into the paint, and pulled it back out, now bright red and dripping with gooey paint. He kept up the grip on Stiles’ wrist and slowly inched it towards the boy’s face.

“No, Derek, please! I’m sorry, come on man, this is going to be a bitch to get out of my hair! Nononono, Derek!” But it was too late and with a triumphant laughter, Derek planted Stiles’ hand on his own face, leaving a bright red and dripping hand print all over the right side.

“Oh this is going to be sweet revenge!” Stiles exclaimed after his hand was released again, and he made quick work of dunking his paint brush, which he was still holding in his other hand, into the bucket and smearing it across Derek’s other cheek and forehead.

“You are on!”

The ruckus they caused lured the rest of the pack to see what was going on. They stopped short in the doorway to the movie room, shocked at what they were seeing. Both Derek and Stiles’ were sprinkled with red paint from head to toe, but the majority of the paint was on their faces.

“What on earth are you doing?” Lydia eventually exclaimed, getting Derek and Stiles to stop one-upping each other. The two were a real sight to see, as was the rest of the room.

“And they said we would be the ones getting paint everywhere” Boyd commented drily, then turned back to finish painting the dining room.

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