A/N: This turned into a monster. All I wanted to write was smut, dammit.

Okay so this is basically a tribute fic to all my favorite Sterek headcanons, fic tropes and kinks out there (and there's a lot) as well as me venting my feelings on behalf of Stiles as well as for Stiles through Stiles. Soooo this might take awhile. XD

I can't write fight scenes – emotional or physical - worth a damn, but gawds, the porn is gonna be so dirty.

Disclaimer: Derek and Stiles sadly do not belong to me. Nor does Teen Wolf. Weh.

Warnings: Not canon-complacent, angst, humor, crossdressing, fabulous drag queen OCs, pining, courting, mating, D/s, knotting, rimming, licking, cum eating, animalistic/feral/possessive behaviors, PackMom!Stiles, PackDaddy!Derek, puppy piles, affectionate poly!pack, pet names, Daddy kink, Twilight references, potential OOC

Stiles is tired.

He is so, so tired.

Between fighting the supernatural, lying constantly to his dad at home, and trying to keep up with schoolwork, he is exhausted. He feels worn down, overwhelmed. Under-appreciated.

Scott is still pining over Allison, trying to make things work with her which means no time for Stiles, his best friend.

Jackson and Lydia are in the same boat, making Stiles give up on his ten year crush on her a while back when he realized she truly does love Jackson, though he will always think of Lydia with great admiration and that she deserves way more than that douche nozzle.

Besides, he has someone else in mind. Had, anyway.

Danny only tolerates him because Danny's a nice guy.

Erica, Issac and Boyd are back with Peter and Derek.

And Derek?

Stiles could feel the first pinpricks behind his eyes at the reminder of the Alpha werewolf, and hastily blinks them away to concentrate on the road.

Derek said he wasn't pack, and it had hurt far worse than it should have.

They'd been arguing the moment he stepped out of his jeep before the pack was due to meet for their weekly training session that Stiles wasn't invited to. Again. Which was fine, considering - you know - he was human, so he usually just invites himself along.

After running the Alpha pack out of town and then defeating their latest creature of the week – in which Stiles' favorite limited edition Batman shirt ends up in shreds (he wanted to cry the moment it happened, and a second after that Derek had torn the creature's throat out right in front of him, with his teeth) - Derek had stepped up training for the betas to extreme levels.

Stiles hadn't liked that, especially when Scott - who had finally agreed to and accepted being part of Derek's pack - had come to his house looking like he'd been through a fight with a horde of evil possessed lawnmowers, run over by a 18 wheeler, and then that same 18 wheeler had backed up to run him over again before parking on top of him after that week's pack meeting (which Stiles couldn't attend to due to the ever increasing mountain of homework he had to finish).

"How the hell is this helping them? 'Oh, let's just shred them up on my claws! Break their bones repeatedly with my mighty furry fists of fury, and make them heal slowly in agony on the forest floor to make them stronger!' Yeah, okay. What kind of half assed training regime is that? At this rate, you won't have betas to train!"

"Shut up, Stiles. What would you know about pack dynamics?" Derek had growled back, fists clenching at his sides as Stiles continued his angry tirade despite the fact that the wolf's green eyes began to bleed red, and the muscles of his arms bulged out enticingly...No! Now was not the time for ogling your new forever-shirtless love interest, Stilinski, so focus!

God, why is it always the impossibly unreachable ones he falls head over ass for?

He shakes his head and gets his head back in the game.

"I know damn well plenty! Apparently more than you do because you'd know that packs, both wolves and werewolves, need more than violent force and strong arming to survive. They need care and nurturing. They need support, a kind hand," he flails his hands violently, "They need to bond, dammit!"

"They are bonding!" Derek had roared back, his jaws snapping and his fangs extended menacingly.

"No, not like this, not enough to grow, to thrive," he had said undeterred, though Derek could probably hear the jackrabbit beating of his heart, "They need to bond with you. You know, since your their leader and all? The one they should feel they can turn to in times of crisis? Ring a bell?" He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, they need your help, your guidance, but this isn't the way to stabilize and establish a good pack, Derek, and you know it. Even Jackson and Scott are starting to get along. You need to be a team player and open up in order for this to work, as much as they are for each other!"

At this point, the older man had heard enough and spun on his heel to storm into the house, which the pack was almost done renovating. "I don'tneed to do anything, and I certainly don't need you, auseless human outsider,to tell me how to run my own goddamn pack," he spat the words out viciously before throwing open the old front door with such force it bounced back from the wall and broke in half as he disappeared inside, leaving Stiles speechless outside.

Well, then.

If that's how he feels...

Stiles doesn't remember getting into his jeep, but he'd driven away in a numb haze, feeling absolutely shattered.

By the time he gets home Stiles rushes up to his room, ignoring his father's concerned calls and throws himself onto his bed. He grabs a hold of his comforter and rolls himself into a burrito facing the wall. He is a depressed, lonesome, human burrito but at least now he's warm. Fall is here and winter was just around the corner, so it was getting kinda chilly even in northern California.

A few moments later, he hears his dad's footsteps coming up the stairs and the tentative knock on his door.

He groans but his dad enters the room anyway and sits down next to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Wanna talk about it?" John asks, running a warm calloused hand through his son's soft prickly hair.

Stiles had let it grown out a little, about half an inch from his buzz cut peach fuzz, so now his head looks like a hedgehog but that's okay. Hedgehogs are cute, just like him!

Oh, who was he kidding.

He turns onto his other side and curls around his dad, snuggling up to him like he hadn't since his mother's passing.

"Don't really wanna talk at all, surprise surprise," he mumbles, but burrows closer, "'M sorry, dad."

"For what?"

He sighs, "For...everything. Making you lose your job, even though you got it back again no thanks to me, lying to you all the time...but it wasn't because I wanted to, I swear. I just...I needed to help Scott with some things, and they weren't my secrets to tell, but I promise you now that it won't happen again. It's over," he declares, because it's true. He is done, sick and tired about all things werewolf. They apparently didn't need him any longer once he'd worn out his usefulness, and he never even got a measly little thank you for all he's done for them.

From now on, he's going to focus on getting his grades back up, applying to colleges next year, and taking care of himself and his dad, like he should have done from the beginning before all this supernatural drama invaded his life.

"Okay," his dad nods, "I'm glad you told me, glad you're talking to me again, son. It was all I'd wanted." Stiles couldn't take the sad, tired look in his dad's eyes anymore and sat up to wrap him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," his voice cracks a little, but that's okay because his dad's does too.

"Love you, too."

Things don't immediately go back to how they were before, but it does get a lot better.

Now that he's excommunicated himself with all things outside of school and home, he's a lot less stressed. It feels like a weight as been lifted from him now that he and his dad are working on building their father-son relationship to its former glory.

It's nice to see his dad smiling at him again instead of his disappointed frown – granted, it was an exasperated but fond smile, but he'll take what he can get at this point.

Stiles is determined to make sure that his dad never has to feel let down again, or at the very least make it a rare occurrence.

He's taken to lining his window with mountain ash and refortifying his belief every morning and every evening to make sure it wards away any werewolves from entering his bedroom. Just in case.

At school with the beginning of their senior year, he starts to avoid the pack as much as he can, only listening to Scott going on and on about Allison with half an ear now that he's decided not to care as much as before. Not that anyone notices anything different with him anyway, and if they did he'd just ignore them.

He starts bringing his own lunch in and eating it in an empty classroom or in the library while he does his homework and looking at colleges, and now that he's switched his ADHD pills over to a new natural alternative medication, it's turning out to be a lot better when Adderall just wasn't cutting it for him anymore.

He's focusing better and tries harder in lacrosse to make his dad proud, shocking everyone on the field when he manages to coordinate himself and sneak past the werewolves on the team - since he knew their weak spots - as well as Danny in the net to score a goal during practice.

It makes him feel good, which is not something he can say easily nowadays, and even on a good day his self-esteem has never been particularly high. (It's not like he's ugly or deformed, he knows that, but being constantly surrounded by physical supernatural perfection all the time takes its toll).

On Friday, a week after all...that, Stiles just made himself comfortable in the library, ready to look over what Standford has to offer again when Lydia struts in on her cute teal back-sling wedges and makes a beeline towards the table he's using. To say Stiles is surprised would have been an understatement.

"Uh...Lydia?" he asks hesitantly when it looks like Lydia isn't going to moving anytime soon, munching on a granny smith apple as she pulls out her math and chemistry notes.

He flushes when all she does is raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him and sighs, "Look, I'm not going to pretend I know exactly what you're dealing with right now, but I can make a pretty damn good observation. Whatever it is with the pack you can tell me later, if you want. I just wanted you to know that, okay? Plus Jackson and I are fighting again and I've missed having someone finally intelligent enough to have serious discussions with."

Warmth suddenly floods Stiles and he gives her a real smile, making her give him one in return. A genuine smile from Lydia Martin, who had apparently noticed his absence and came looking for him, who wants to be friends, at the very least study buddies, with one Stiles Stilinski.

Today's the happiest day of his life.

Later that night, Stiles wishes his dad a good night at work with some leftover veggie lasagna in a lunchbox for him as the Sheriff leaves for the graveyard shift.

"Oh yeah, Dad, and just to let you know, I think I'll be going out tonight."

At that John raises an eyebrow, making Stiles shift nervously.

He knows he hasn't been out in a while, and when he did it usually ended up a bad idea, but did it really warrant that look? "What?"

"Nothing. Just...don't get into any trouble and be back by midnight, all right? Text me when you're home."

Stiles' shoulders lose their tension and he grins, happy that his dad is trusting him again with the small stuff and that things are looking like they're getting back to normal.

"Yessir!" he mock salutes, making his dad snort. The Sheriff gently cuffs him on the head and rubs at his hair before heading out. Stiles closes the door, the smile firmly stuck on his face.

Around 8 o'clock he drives his beloved jeep over to Jungle, his mind set.

Okay, so this is it. He is going to figure out if he's attractive to gay guys and if gay guys are attractive to him once and for all.

After lunch with Lydia, the girl he had held a steadfast torch for since kindergarten, the girl he thought he was in love with, he feels like he needed to see where he fell regarding his sexuality.

Because aside from Lydia, he doesn't think he's felt anything remotely as strong for any other girl after puberty hit. Lydia just happens to be the prettiest and smartest of them all so he fixated on that, like she was a celebrity. Someone to put on a pedestal.

It occurred to him during lunch that he's never really thought of Lydia in a sexual way, not past making out and some heavy petting. He's relieved to find out that they work better as friends now anyway.

But boys? He'll admit he's checked out his teammates a time or two in the locker room. Whether it was just male admiration or something deeper, he has no clue, which was why he was in his Jeep trying to muster up the courage to just get out and find out if this is a gay thing or a bi thing or just a strange phase he's going through.

Though he admits he's had some pretty dirty locker room fantasies. Amongst others. With boys.

Safe to say, he's really confused.

Maybe it's just a Derek thing.

He shakes his head. Nope, not going there tonight, because if he goes there tonight, he'll go through all the things that are different with Derek than they were with Lydia, like how all those muscles made him feel in deeper ways Lydia's curves never did, and if that sexy stubble would hurt or tickle against his skin, and god, those eyes...

Anyway. Derek Feelings. They go beyond what Lydia Feelings ever were. He'll deal with that issue later.

Time to face the music and get his answers.

Of course once he somehow manages to get inside pass the bouncer, it's harder than it seems. Loud pulsing techno blares from the speakers and flashing lights were everywhere.

Meandering and squeezing his way past writhing masculine bodies on the dance floor, Stiles fights his way to a thankfully empty stool at the bar and puts his head down for a moment.

Okay, just a small break and a soda will calm his nerves enough to do this.

Right.

An amused chuckle close by urges him to lift his head and he's greeted by the sight of laughing cocoa brown eyes and a dazzling white smile of the bartender. The guy kind of looked like an older version of Taylor Lautner with his russet skin, messy black spikes of hair and tight black muscle shirt showing off his impressive biceps.

"Rough night?" the bartender asks good-naturedly and Stiles blushes but gives him a weak grin.

"You could say that. How could you tell?" he jests back and sits up straight again. Ha, straight. In a gay club. The jokes just keep coming. Ha! Coming.

"Intuition," the guy says, leaning across the bar towards Stiles, "So what will it be? Butt Sex? Screaming Orgasm? Blue Balls? Slippery Nipple?"

At the deer-in-headlights look on Stiles' gaping face, the bartender cracks up before pulling out a glass and pours some ice and a can of coke into it, then places it in front of his flustered customer on a coaster.

"Maybe just a coke on the rocks to start with?"

At this, Stiles snaps out of his daze and closes his mouth to cough into his hand, totally embarrassed.

"Ah, haaah...Drinks. That was what you were talking about. Right. The hot bartender was totally not hitting on me. Got it." He takes a sip in an attempt to hid how red his face is. He fails, epically.

The bartender grins, "Aw, don't sell yourself short, cutie. If I didn't have a boyfriend and you were legal, I'd totally tap that." He winks and chuckles at Stiles astonished face.

"R-Really?" Guess that answers his question.

"Well, you certainly are cute even with the geek chic fashion you got going on." He gestures at Stiles' Marvel T-shirt under his usual plaid overshirt. "I'm sure you'll find someone here that adores that particular flavor of twink. What's your name by the way?"

"Stiles."

"Cool, I'm Jake."

Remembering his earlier thought, Stiles couldn't help the snort of laughter that escapes and Jake rolls his eyes at him.

"I know, I know. I get it all the time. It doesn't help that my boyfriend's name is Edward either."

The two break into laughter and conversation flows easily from there as well as the drinks.

Jake doesn't seem to care that he is obviously underage but keeps from being heavy handed with the cocktails he has Stiles try, waving his hand in dismissal when Stiles gets concerned about how he was going to pay for all the drinks.

"They're on the house. I haven't had this much fun at work that didn't lead to the bedroom in ages."

So Stiles ends up befriending the bartender. Awesome.

A couple hours later and he's pleasantly buzzed, nursing the last of his Sex on the Beach as Jake tends to another patron.

He's fiddling around with the straw in his mouth when someone big presses up against his back. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees two beefy arms boxing him in against the bar. What-? "Uh..."

"Hey, sweetheart. Wanna dance?" is breathed into his ear and he can smell the beer on the guy's breath.

"No. No thanks," he squeaks out before he's spun around on his stool and – holy shit this guy is built like a body builder and all up in his space. He is all up in Stiles' grill right now and since he's certainly not Derek - who he does not want to think about in a time like this - Stiles is not okay with this! Even if he's attractive in a douchey kind of way. Like Jackson. Okay, so that's not someone Stiles wants to be thinking about either, or ever.

"Hey! The guy said no so back off already, Brett," Jake says from behind the bar, and from his tone of voice his new friend is tense.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up, Jacob," Brett sneers, "Be a good little puppy and go back to that sparkling fairy boytoy of y-"

"That. Iz. Enough."

At the sound of the powerful, booming voice that comes thundering over the music, Brett jerks away from him like a hot tamale and oh my god, this tall caramel-skinned Amazon goddess descends from the heavens dressed in a sexy leather catsuit to save Stiles, and she's about unleash a can of whoop-ass and take names from the poisonous look on her gorgeous painted face.

Brett seems to know it too, so he turns and flees with his tail between his legs, leaving Jake to laugh long and loud, mockingly calling after him, "So long, motherfucker!"

With the imminent threat to his person swiftly taken cared of, Stiles sags against the bar and sighs in relief.

"Oh, man. Dude. That...that was kind of intensely not okay."

"Indeed," the Amazon goddess chimes in with a hand on her cocked hip, flicking her honey blonde waves over a broad shoulder, "Are you all right, cherie?"

Stiles grins, "I am now, thanks to you. My Amazon heroine," he swoons and bats his eyelashes, making the statuesque beauty chuckle in that dark smoky voice of hers.

"You are a sweet boy," she coos and scratches him lightly on the head with her long golden nails that match her glittering eye shadow. Stiles' grin turn a little shy at that.

"I'm so sorry about that, Stiles," Jake says as he comes out from behind the bar, looking so guilty that Stiles just wanted to snuggle up to him to make those remorseful puppy eyes go away, "I knew that good for nothing ex of mine was a jackass, but I didn't think he'd ever do that. Forgive me?"

"Of course, dude. It wasn't your fault," he replies easily and Jakes sweeps him into a hug. Stiles returns it enthusiastically, pats and rubs his back - because his hugs are awesome, thank you very much and Jake was a 100% hottie - before pulling away to ask, "Sooo, does that mean I get free drinks all the time now? Is that how this works?"

That does the trick and Jake laughs again, punching him on the shoulder playfully and Stiles fake whines and rubs the spot with a pout, "You're gonna get me arrested, punk, but we'll see."

"Hm," the blonde bombshell hides a smile behind her hand, "I am going to steal this one away from you, Jacob. I wish for him to meet ze girls."

Jake nods with a wave of his hand as he gets back to work. "Sure thing, Dom. Hey Stiles, don't let the ladies eat you alive, okay? That bunch can be downright scary sometimes, so watch out!"

"W-What?"

"Don't be a stranger!" The bartender sends him off with a gleeful smile as Dom leads an apprehensive Stiles away from the bar with a steady manicured hand on his back.

Oh, man, was he going to his doom meeting the 'ladies' or what? The last time he was here, the queens he met were really nice. He and Mystique still text each other every week or so. Were these girls going to bite his head off like praying mantises or...or claw his eyes out if he says the wrong thing? (And c'mon he's not gonna kid himself. He so totally would even if it was completely by accident.)

It turns out he's worried for nothing.

Even though Sugar Mama 'just wanted to eat him up!' when Wonder Woman Dominique first introduces him to her friends, Stiles is pretty sure that was a good thing while the fiery, vivacious Anita Mann carries on gushing about the color of his eyes ("Look how bright they are! Like gems!") in her thick Spanish accent. Amber D. Lights and Crystal Ballz both bitch under their breaths about how soft his skin is and ask him what products he uses to keep it that way as they molest his arms, and the Gemini twins Cassie and Paula both coo over his pretty eyelashes and beauty marks.

So that's how Stiles ends up with a bunch of drag queens fawning over him. It's not half bad.

He thinks he can grow to love Jungle. Ha! Grow. Never let it be said that Stiles Stilinski doesn't have the jokes.

With a few more drinks to go around, Stiles is feeling content and sleepy. He's leaning against Dominique, resting his head on her shoulder as she pets his hair and gently scratches his scalp and Stiles just wants to purr.

Dom chuckles with delight, "You are adorable,comme un petit chaton. Tell me, Stiles, have you ever considered a step on ze wild side?"

"Huh?" he mutters drowsily.

"What Dom means, sweet thang, is if you ever thought about dressin' in drag, for fun if anythang else, cuz you know we be livin' it up in our fantastic animal print and sequins!" Sugar Mama crows in her Southern Louisiana drawl, making the other ladies holler and raise their drinks in wholehearted agreement.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," he mumbles, "For Halloween or something. I used to when I was little but I grew out of it. My Mom," he swallows, which the ladies take immediate notice of, "My Mom used to dress me up as a kid when she found out how much I liked wearing princess costumes instead of Power Rangers, though I still loved those too. We'd spend the day together in the kitchen making things from her family recipes. It was one of the things we did together that was just for us because she didn't believe in gender norms and wanted me to experience everything with an open mind. Wouldn't be opposed to it if it's for fun."

"Our annual Halloween Drag Show is coming up at the end of next month," Crystal chimes in, fluffing up her hair. "We'd love to have new blood up on stage with us. Interested?"

Stiles mulls the idea over in his sluggish brain but ends up shrugging, "Sure, why the hell not."

It seems like that was the right move because the ladies all cheer and talk a mile a minute about what they want to see him in. He's happy to see them so excited.

"You will not regret it. It will be ze time of your life," Dom murmurs the promise into the shell of his ear, a sexy tilt on her dark stained lips as he nuzzles closer.

After sobering up a bit with a tall glass of water and some curly fries thanks to Paula, Stiles texts his dad and deletes the ones from Scott and the pack asking/demanding to know where he is while Amber offers him a ride ("You are in no shape to drive, pumpkin"). They are going to pick him up tomorrow to go shopping two towns over and a 'spa day', then swing by Jungle again during the dead hours to help him practice how to walk in heels before he heads home for dinner with his dad.

Suddenly he wasn't so certain on what he just got himself into at the mention of stilettos but Dom assures him he'll do splendidly as they all exchange numbers.

"Until tomorrow, cherie. Bonne nuit," she says with a kiss on the cheek. He grins and flails a hand at them in goodbye as Amber peels out of the parking lot to take him home.