Chapter Text
Stiles had wanted one for the longest, the longest time. Okay, so maybe partly he wanted one because Lydia Martin hadn’t got one yet; well she had set her sights on buying Jackson, but Danny got there first and bought him from the Argents’ pet store. Lydia was pissed off, and she made sure everyone knew it. Not that Danny cared; he had Jackson, collared and on a short lead.
The Argents ran most of the werewolf pet stores in the country and the only one in Beacon Hills. Their hunters would round up any rogue weres that were loose in the area; they trained them then sold them in the stores. Gerard Argent was one of the first to set up the werewolf pet stores after the bill was passed making it legal to keep weres as slave-pets. Sure there had been a bit of controversy when the bill was making its way through the houses; but it passed, because other animals are kept as pets or used to work, like draft horses and stuff, and werewolves are just another type of animal.
The W erewolf E nslavement R egulations E nforcement S ervices Department was established the same year that the bill was enacted to ensure that the weres were treated within the provisions of the law governing the selling and ownership of a werewolf slave-pet.
There were rules around the selling of werewolves, no Alpha could be sold to members of the public, only Betas can be bought as slave-pets, and the werewolf had to be sixteen or older; until then they were held in gated compounds surrounded by mountain ash fences.
There were also rules about who could and couldn’t own a werewolf, you needed to pass psychological evaluation to ensure that you could dominate and effectively be their Alpha; you also needed to pass an exam on the training, and husbandry of a pet werewolf. Both Stiles and Scott had gone to the local WERES offices and passed the evaluation and exam when they took it at the start of freshman year; the earliest you could take the exams.
It sucked, majorly sucked, and in no-way was good sucking involved, when Scott got bit by a rogue were last year. His mom cried for weeks when the Argents’ hunters informed her; and later when they gave her the cheque for her share of the proceeds from his sale.
Stiles had asked his dad to buy Scott for him; Scott was his best friend, his only friend, and Stiles didn’t want to lose him. His dad didn’t, instead explaining how it was a bad idea as he would still treat Scott like his friend and how that wouldn’t be good for either him or Scott. Stiles wondered how Scott could be an animal now and hadn’t been before; but he was a werewolf now so it must be true, right?
Chris Argent actually bought Scott, for his daughter Allison; and Scott seemed happy enough when Stiles saw him wander behind Allison at school, carrying her books and stuff. Stiles assumes he’s happy, it’s not like they talk or anything. Stiles has heard Scott answer when Allison asks him if he understood her orders for him; barking once for yes and twice for no, just like every other werewolf.
Stiles dad couldn’t have afforded to buy Scott then anyway; the price of a well-trained werewolf slave-pet is high, very high; so high in-fact that Stiles is wondering what the hell is wrong with the one he’s currently looking at that his dad could just afford to buy him, and not need to take out a finance deal for the balance.
Because seriously Stiles cannot see anything, anything at all, that is wrong with him; okay maybe he could lose the scowl, though it does make him look sexy. He has that whole bad-boy pout and the most amazing electric-blue eyes. Way hotter than Danny’s Jackson.
Not only that he’s a born-wolf, like Jackson turned out to be; gawd were his adoptive parents surprised by that one, maybe scandalised and totally freaked is nearer the truth. Born-wolves always cost more than bitten ones like Scott; so why is the price of this one something his dad can just afford to buy him?
Stiles looks down the rows of cages on either side of the room; every other cage contains a bitten, their price around the same as, or for the decent looking ones slightly higher than, this born slave-pet. The bitten are obviously tamed and housetrained; Stiles can see it in their eyes, the same lost, broken, look that Scott has.
Kate Argent is saying something about him not being for sale, but there is a price right there on his cage; a price that Stiles dad can afford to pay, to buy him for Stiles’ seventeenth birthday present.
Chris Argent comes down into the basement where the weres are caged; Kate would have sliced him open with the daggers her look sent when he says of course he’s for sale, though he does warn them that Derek is not fully trained; and that he can be rebellious.
Stiles dad asks him if he’s sure this is the one he wants. Stiles is sure; he wants Derek; and since Stiles’ mom died his dad has always bought him what he wanted, if he could afford it. His dad isn’t really in favour of getting him a were-pet; his mom was killed by a rogue alpha. It was the second time she had been attacked by one; the first time she was pregnant with Stiles, the alpha was injured and struck out at her with its claws. The second time she was bitten; well, really she was eaten, there wasn’t enough left for the bite to turn her. Thankfully.
Chris shows Stiles how to operate the shock collar; he talks him through some basic training techniques, grooming, exercise and feeding requirements. They’ll deliver him tomorrow; with his tracking chip embedded under the skin beneath his collar.
At home they rearrange Stiles’ bedroom; raising the bed onto a platform five feet off the floor so that Derek’s cage will fit underneath. The cage is the same footprint as the bed, five foot by six foot. Stiles is stoked, so stoked he can’t sleep that night; he’s getting a werewolf slave-pet of his very own. Lydia Martin still doesn’t have one; maybe now she’ll notice Stiles.
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Derek is still asleep in his cage under Stiles’ bed; he has been since they delivered him. Chris explained that they sedate them for transport to keep them calm when being delivered to their new owners. Stiles’ dad signed the delivery note before heading to work, telling Stiles to keep Derek in his cage until he got back from work.
Stiles admired the sight of Derek in the cage; lying sprawled naked on his front, his head on the potty training pad and he has a foot in the empty food bowl. Stiles had seen that each of the cages in the Argents’ store had the training pads, some needing changed, and decided that would be the easiest solution for him to clean out his slave-pets’ cage. Derek’s hands are locked in the puppy mitts, his back and ass like something on a Greek God or statue. Stiles hadn’t noticed the tattoo before, the spiral covering Derek’s upper back. He tears himself away from his pet and goes back to surfing the net; looking at werewolf owner sites, researching the same things he has since werewolf ownership became legal. And watching some werewolf porn.
“Where am I?” The scratchy voice coming from behind Stiles is a little hoarse; Chris has said it was a side-effect of the sedatives; that he’d need plenty of water when he woke up.
“Do you need a drink?” Stiles asks as he turns to face his pet.
“Yes.” Derek frowns as he replies. Stiles know he has to start correctly; all the werewolf owners in the forums agree, be loving, be strict, and above all else be consistent. He zaps the collar; he sees Derek’s face contort in pain as he spasms in the cage as the current passes through him.
“I know you’ve had some training,” Stiles says calmly, well he hopes calmly; the twitch in his pants was unexpected, “so answer correctly, do you need a drink?”
“Just let me go, they’ll think you were overpowered, you...” Derek doesn’t finish as Stiles zaps him again, the current slightly stronger than previously.
“Shut up!“ Stiles snaps at him; Derek scowls in response, “I think I should change your name to Sourwolf the way you pout and scowl.”
Derek stays quiet, watching Stiles.
“One bark for yes, two for no,” Stiles crouches down outside Derek’s cage, “understand?”
“WOOF, WOOF“ Derek replies, more of a growl than a bark; but it’s a start Stiles thinks, even if it is the wrong answer.
“Training you is going to be fun Sourwolf.” Stiles grins as he shocks the collar again; he has the weekend to spend bringing Derek to heel. Stiles is sure that his pet can smell the arousal seeping through his pants and into the air in his cage.