title: it takes a certain tolerance

fandom: teen wolf

pairing: Derek/Scott or thanks to afebbo728, they're McHale

word count: 1865

summary: Scott gets a gift that Derek isn't fond of

warning: season one for little spoilers I guess here and there

It's been more than a while since he's celebrated anything, let alone a birthday. So it's curiosity that has him opening the thin, rectangular box. The box is black with silver outlining the casing; it's about three inches wide and 10 inches long. Scott's already opened it, by the looks of the shredded wrappings on the floor. Derek snatches the box off of Scott's desk and sits in a reclined stance with his back to the headboard and his feet on the bed, shoes and all. Familiarity arose a while ago; he doesn't enter through accessible windows anymore but through the front door, invited and welcomed. He likes coming to see Scott in his vulnerability of human acts. Petty things that have long stopped having any importance to him, things like homework and bickering with his mother for use of the car.

He's lifting the box top off when Scott comes into the room from the bathroom, wearing nothing but basketball shorts with a towel thrown around his shoulders. Derek gets a blithe "hey" thrown in his direction as he stares at the content inside the box.

Frowning, he moves toward the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the ground and pulls the offending item out of the box. He was expecting a watch but this is …

Derek's gaze moves upwards to Scott, who's moving towards the dresser. Scott shakes his head, his damp locks of dark hair splashing little droplets of water everywhere. Derek quirked an eyebrow, there's a pun there somewhere but he's not Stiles and he's not entertained by the dog jokes which is why this is…

Voicing his thought out loud, Derek questions, "What is this?" Derek's now sitting on the edge of the bed with the object in his hand. He has a firm grasp on the black, leather band. The buckle is scratch free save for a few thumbprints, his thumb runs over the feel of the texture slowly, and stops short at the cool metal bone-shaped tag to trace the engraved name on it.

In clean-cut, capitalize letters is SCOTT.

Scott approaches nonchalantly, not catching on to Derek's aggravation. Laughing as he says it, "It's a gift" and Derek doesn't fail to notice the bit of amusement spilling into it. Disgusting. The Alpha is disgusted with the so called 'gift', and his tongue skims over canine incisors while his eyes bleed bloody red.

Derek snorted, "A gift?" He brought it up to eye level and shakes it as he speaks, acidity leaving an anomalous taste in his mouth, "You consider this a gift."

Maybe Scott doesn't quite understand what a gift is. Derek's reflects to that night in the woods when they were running from the hunters, Scott's first change.

"Is it really so bad, Scott? That you can see better… hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope?" He had been puzzled then still is, he can't comprehend how Scott couldn't see how beautiful this was, how venerated he should feel for something like this. You've been given something that most people would kill for. The bite is a gift." A true gift.

Scott shrugged, his eyebrows scrunch together obviously not understanding Derek's irritation, "It's supposed to be funny. I mean you know how Stiles is."

Stiles. That wasn't surprising. The jokes never end with him and with Scott being pack, they probably never will. But it's unsettling that Scott isn't bothered by this but then again Scott isn't Derek. He doesn't have that pride of being what he is. Scott's still dealing with letting the primal animal underneath just be, just be the graceful work of art it truly is. Scott doesn't indulge the way Derek does; Scott doesn't know how exquisite he is which is why he doesn't get why this is insulting as well as borderline dangerous. Scott should force Stiles to wear it. To think that Stiles would even deem Scott as a pet is an assault on the young Beta's dignity. The role of master and pet should be clear in that friendship. Scott can be dominant, should be dominant towards the humans.

He knows how Scott felt, taking down Jackson on the lacrosse field. He knows how good it feels when the aggression takes over, knowing you're stronger, better and using that to ones will can be exulting. To a certain degree of course, knowing the importance of honing the abilities and retaining control is what truly separates them from being weak. Even a wolf knows control, teaming and planning with its brothers and sisters, its pack, to take down prey, to provide for their young.

"Chill out," Scott murmurs, "Not actually like I'd wear it." The blur between Scott's emotion and his words, a strange interweaving that doesn't weigh well, baffles and disturbs Derek. It makes Derek wonder if Scott's already –if Scott might have of tried it on. It makes him edgy, so uneasy that if Scott dared to do such a thing, Derek would leave. Abandon him right here, right now. He doesn't question, he doesn't want to leave.

Nonetheless, Derek's head snaps up at the words, focusing on Scott's face, not meeting eyes, not yet. No. Not if Scott had any self-respect. Scott's eyes are cast down, painstakingly darting with meticulous drive but Derek can predict the primordial look that has by now been imbedded into Scott's brain, eyes that are waiting for this to end, pleading for Derek's anger and frustration to dissipate. Submissive, brown eyes.

Just like he also knows how much Scott must want to kneel right now, frustrated that Derek's sitting and he's standing. But there's nothing remotely dominant about Scott's stance, arched back, sloped shoulders and bowed head. He looks small, meek and pliant, purely willing to bend under his command. Probably even wants to lay on his back, expose his neck and belly. The gesture is very appealing considered it's meshed with heaps of respect coming from Scott and wow, his wolf is practically salivating. And really it's beyond any beauty that Derek's ever seen. Scott's submission could make slavery look like a beautification. He knows precisely when to succumb.

Still, the only thing that is even worthy of being put around Scott's neck is what Derek subjugates Scott to. Nothing more and nothing less. Derek momentarily thinks of his own hand closing securely around the brunette's throat, it's tempting. The need to remind Scott, to show him who he belongs to.

But it's not just objectification. It's belonging; it's the sense of being in a pack. It's all he knows. A strong acceptance, one that unlike humans, you don't take it for granted. It's the closest thing to family Derek will ever get to again. Being a part of a pack again, finally, is gratification at its fullest.

We're brothers.

And they are. He's not going to let some spasmodic human get in the way of that. If Scott wants to keep his human pet, he'd better keep it under his control. Because this is unacceptable.

And Derek thinks it's a fairly simple concept to grasp considering the order of their dynamics.

Alpha.

Beta.

Omega.

And since Derek doesn't want to isolate Scott from his interactions as long as he remains loyal, he'll even include the Humans as well. He's willing to share, if they're kept platonic and at a reasonable bay. Mostly because he clings to past memories the way a child clutches at their mother when they're scared. But that was once upon a time when being what he was didn't implicate so much death, fear and pain. He doesn't want that for Scott. It's too much of a lonely existence. He's not too keen on seeing that lopsided smile disappear.

So he'll let it go because it holds no hidden connotations.

All the same, the Alpha thinks, he needs to know if Scott gets it. So he says with a low rumble of a voice, "Scott. It indicates ownership," and the said possessed item already has its place, kneeling at his feet. Scott is his to command, to dominate. His domain. Derek wonders if Stiles is really going to cross that line. There should be boundaries.

His penetrating eyes flicker to Scott eyes, seizing nervous chocolate orbs, owning Scott in a way that Stiles will never. No one will ever. Scott's gaze drops to the ground, his cheeks flushing at what Derek knows is brazen entitlement on his face.

Scott stills and weakly whispers, "I know" pausing to let the intimidating hush to lift, "but Stiles" another pause to exhale and lick at dry lips, "didn't mean it …like that."

Derek ends up smirking at that, he suppose that was probably true. In any case, he's a little distracted by Scott to focus. Scott's lips are parted and his eyes are wide. The flush blooms past his cheeks, down his neck to the ample of bare skin spanned across his broad shoulders, and then bleeds down to Scott's chest. It's divine, it really is.

Because the smell makes Derek never want to forget what bloodlust is. His nostrils flare, greedily snatching the smell and processing it. He immediately wants to give pursuit for the smell Scott's giving and the innate thing to do would be to indulge himself but he's the Alpha and right now isn't really the time for that. Patience is really a virtue for a predator. Later, he will though.

So maybe he'll drop it, reluctantly of course. "Fine." Derek will let it go because he can. Decides it's some human thing, one that he clearly doesn't understand. It's not challenging him at least not in a way his wolf nature needs to be immersed in. Stiles is not a threat to him, just a kid who doesn't really think too much.

The breath of relief Scott gives is amusing.

"You know for a second there I didn't know if I was going to be allowed to breathe right again... like ever."

Derek rolled his eyes; he thought his reaction was sensible. How else was he supposed to react to this? It pulled at a string in him and reminded him undesirably of Kate. She would do something like this and not in a fashion meant to be innocent. It'd be evil and full of vindication.

Scott's saying something in the background, something like, "….so happy you're not mad…" as his fingers imprint letters on the back of the leather strap, turning it over in his hand. Written in decorative cursive, reads

To my pet, Scott

From your owner, Stiles

The inscription is something he shouldn't have been surprised at. Yet Derek can't help but think how obnoxious, deceptive and crude the words seem.

His lips curl up in repulsion revealing incisors. His grip is taut around the 'gift' choking it in the palm of his hand, wanting to crush it. But that won't do, he needs Scott to return it. To give it back and say that he already belongs to someone. With his anger barely reined in, Derek constrains a growl. "Return. The." he snarls out the end, allowing himself to say the word, "Collar."