Archive of Our Own ^beta

Derek has been restraining himself for so long, and he doesn’t know how. Maybe he does, but either way it doesn’t matter. Stiles pushes his buttons, and Derek is one always a second away from snapping his jaws around the boys neck to claim him like he wants.

Has since the beginning, really.

Ever since the spastic little teen wandered into his life by stumbling over his property lines unknowingly, Derek’s been lingering over his shoulder. Stiles drew him in like a moth to a flame, because fire and the illogical have always been a problem with Derek. Even so, Stiles made his blood boil and his instincts intensify no matter what the boy did, and he drove Derek into a corner with restraining himself almost constantly. After all, the wolf is always hungry - always lusting - and the teen with his salty scent of near-constant arousal has both the beast and man hooked within an instant.

Still, even when the boy throws himself, or at least, permeates his unmasked scent of want when they interact, at Derek, he declines. Now is not the time.

No - not yet. Not until things are just right.

So Derek waits.

He stalks. He plans. He hungers.

He earns the trust of his pack members, from the likes of Boyd to even the likes of Scott, but more importantly, he earns the trust of Stiles. He earns it by making it look like he needs him - like he could be weak and vulnerable just like rest of them. For his efforts, Stiles and the pack both feel something other than fear around him and his wolf, and it makes Derek giddy with anticipation for when the curtain will finally pull back, and the horrors backstage will be out for his whole audience to see.

Sure, sometimes Derek knows he occasionally intimidates the pack, and that their instincts probably warn them of Derek ever still, but the alpha has played his cards just right. While his pack is busy thinking he just has a few joke cards in his stack, Derek is snickering behind his winning hand.

But it’s not time yet, and Derek is a patient one when he wants to be.

Besides, Stiles is easily becoming more and more of an easy target as time goes on, especially so as their little illusion of a relationship “progresses”. He begins to let his guard down more often than not around Derek, and the alpha has to reign himself back the very first time the boy spends the night at his place - his pale expanse of a neck stretched out as he slept on the couch. It makes the hunger that much worse - aching, clawing - at Derek’s belly and into his throat where it burns to the point of pain.

But Derek can’t give in yet.

Restraint; waiting. That’s what Derek needs to do and focus on. If he does, the reward will be so much sweeter than if he didn’t give into the impulse of getting Stiles right under his thumb like he wants him to be.

So Derek, once again, waits.

It isn’t until the pack requests a camping trip in the woods that Derek’s final motives, with Stiles, at least, begin to come into play. He selects a particular, secluded part of the Preserve for them to pitch their tents and set up their gear in. After some more discussion, Derek decides that the night of the full moon will be best, explaining that “it will be the release your wolf has been waiting for” - and he tries not to chuckle at the irony of it all.

The pack doesn’t question him - they probably think it’s going to be great and so much fun for them all - but the only reaction that Derek is truly gauging is Stiles’.

The teen in question was pretty enthusiastic, and he could smell the excitement rolling off of him. However, what made the decision to wait worth it most, were the small, heated glances Stiles threw at Derek, and zests of arousal that came with them. Still, Derek presses on, acting as though he hadn’t noticed Stiles’ occasional moments of smelling like a porno set, and he tells the pack that it’ll be in the upcoming week. It’s best - because then Stiles will also be officially done with school for the summer, and Derek will finally be able to take the boy like he wants to without interruption.

The whole pack, obviously, has a completely different reason to be excited about the timing. After all, it’s the last summer before their senior year - this is supposed to be the greatest time of their lives. So Derek looks on from his seat in his burned out shell of a house, and listens in vaguely as to what the pack plans on during their two months of freedom. Stiles joins in sometimes, and he mentions things like parties and sleepovers that are just as wild as the boy’s hand movements. Derek doesn’t say no when Stiles asks if they could use his place for such a thing, and he grips onto the arms of his recliner as he sees how Stiles lights up after he’s given permission.

He’s always liked the way Stiles’ eyes warmed up - comforting just like the hot chocolate that Talia used to make Derek when it got colder - and how his smile spread his cheeks widely with the promise of mischief - reminding the alpha of Cora right before everything went to hell and their house tried to replicate that plane of existence.

The smell of ash and the faint sound of screaming nearly sets Derek off, just like it always does, but Stiles is talking then, and Derek’s wolf finally settles.

It’s probably why Derek is so obsessed with the boy. He gives him a sense of control that he hasn’t felt in years. It’s probably why he’s so good at holding back on claiming Stiles right then and there - in front of everyone in the pack - like his wolf so desperately wants.

But Derek will wait. He will wait if it means taking Stiles will be that much better if he does.

Stiles is completely drunk by the time that the tents are set up and everyone has kind of settled for the night.

Derek’s wolf is already on edge, and it only worsens as he sees how clumsy and vulnerable the boy is as he stumbles around the bonfire the pack made. He’s giggling as though he’s high, slinking around like some snake as he slips in and out of conversations that he believes needs the addition of his drunken babble. He’s like a ghost almost - drifting about wherever his feet manage to take him.

Derek is sitting by himself on a fallen log when Stiles barely makes it over to him, flopping over onto the ground roughly as his Converse catches on a root when he tries to step over it. Derek catches him, and thankfully, Stiles seems too drunk to notice how his nails have somewhat lengthened into claws. If he does notice, he probably writes it off as a reaction kind of thing.

Stiles just doesn’t know it.

Derek, while somewhat literal, has finally caught him.

The catch - no pun intended - is that this time, Derek isn’t going to let him go.

Stiles just doesn’t know that, either.

“W-Whoa,” he hiccups, “Sorry ‘bout that, Der. I’m all thumbs right now.”

Derek hums quietly, rearranging the boy’s drunken form until he’s seated on the log beside him.

He must be really plastered, because he leans heavily onto Derek and laughs giddily, “You’re so uptight, dude. You gotta- you gotta loosen up a lil’, man.”

Derek snorts, acting along like he always does, “I can’t get drunk, Stiles. You know this.”

“I k-know, but still. There’s gotta be other ways for you to unwind, right?”

Derek knows what Stiles is hinting at exactly, going by the scent of arousal that begins to pick up some wind around the boy, but Derek decides to play dumb - see if he can get his prey to put itself into position willingly for him. It’s as though Stiles here is a sheep among wolves, and he decided that it was a good day to paint a bulls-eye on himself for shits and giggles.

“There are a few, but they probably won’t help. A wolf is usually harder to sate on full moons.”

It’s partially a lie, at least with Stiles it is. It doesn’t matter what phase the moon is in. Derek’s always going to struggle with keeping his wolf calm around Stiles.

It’s a relief knowing that it won’t have to be like that for much longer.

“R-Really?” Stiles stutters with awe, his eyes growing wide through their sheen of intoxication, “That must suck majorly.”

“It has its moments,” Derek murmurs, looking over to the bonfire as the wood pops and creates ember-esque snowflakes.

Stiles grows quiet for a moment, and he joins Derek in watching the fire as the pack meanders about them. It isn’t going as lively as Stiles bragged about it to be during the meeting, but Derek thinks it probably has to do with the fact that the only one, other than Stiles, who can get drunk here is Kira - but she isn’t into that. It means that Stiles is almost out of place with his bacchanalian approach here.

It almost makes it that much easier for Derek.

“Der,” Stiles murmurs after a moment, snuggling into the alpha, making his wolf howl in his head, “Tell me a story.”

“What kind of story?”

“A fairy tale, please.”

Derek sighs, “Which one?”

Stiles pauses for a moment, and there’s a slight snicker in his voice as he answers, “Little R-Red Riding Hood, please.”

The wolf in Derek preens at the irony of Stiles’ choice, but Derek reigns it in.

He just has to wait till the pack is asleep, or at least, when they become more lethargic than they are now. Surely, with how Stiles has been throwing himself at and onto Derek tonight, it won’t be that hard to get the teen in his tent.

So Derek will play along. For now.

“You already know how that goes-”

“But I wanna hear it, Der,” the human slides himself up Derek’s leg until his cheek is resting a little past Derek’s knee, his eyes looking up through his thick lashes, “Please?”

Oh, Stiles is definitely going to get it later.

Derek, however, keeps a cool front up, and sighs, trying to sound annoyed when it’s quite the opposite, “Fine, Stiles... But this version is modified, since you’re already aware of the original.”

The boy eagerly looks at Derek and smiles, his plump lips parting sloppily as he leans in a little more to listen.

“There was a teen who wanted to give his friends some Jack Daniels,” Derek begins, knowing that this version is shitty - but storytelling is not on his list of priorities tonight, “so he decided to go through the woods. Unbeknownst to the the boy, a wolf hid there and was up to no good. So while the boy thought he was safe, the place was in fact quite a threat, but the wolf had himself well, so the boy hadn’t noticed him yet.”

Stiles looked on in rapt fascination, “Go on, Der. S’good.”

“It wasn’t until the moon was in the middle of the sky that the boy began to feel a prickle on his skin, for the wolf was quite hungry, and his patience was wearing thin. He stalked the boy until he had him cornered- pressed into a tree. The boy tried to cry out, but the sound the wolf did foresee. With one swift movement and a flick of his wrist, he had the boy’s mouth closed tight, and with the use of the other, he blocked out the frightened boy’s sight. It didn’t matter if the boy was quite horrified being closeup, because before the sun even rose, the wolf had completely gobbled him up. The end.”

Stiles pouts, “Oh, come on, Der. Y-You can do better than that.”

The alpha snorts, “Stiles, you’re drunk. I don’t think you’re really going to be focusing on the quality of my storytelling at the moment.”

“You’re right, Der. I’ve got bigger things on my mind,” Stiles, who so far had only hinted at advances with shy glances and additions to his scent, slips a hand up Derek’s thigh until it rests right at the start of his zipper, “Much b-bigger things.”

“Stiles,” Derek warns, because little does the boy know that Derek’s already minuscule amount control is fraying.

“Please, Der?” Stiles slips his form, somehow without flailing, over until he’s resting above Derek’s lap, and he’s playing with the neckline of Derek’s shirt flirtatiously, “I wanted to have some fun tonight, b-but everyone can’t let loose like I can.”

The pack is so caught up with everything going on with themselves, that they don’t even notice Stiles propositioning Derek right then. It makes Derek’s wolf grin from ear to ear, but the man himself manages to keep a straight face.

Maybe he doesn’t have to wait till they’re asleep.

“Stiles, you’re drunk-”

“And horny,” the boy adds, rolling his hips against Derek’s lightly, “Very, very horny.”

Derek barely manages to silence the growl that had been building in his chest, “Stiles-”

“Come on, Der, just one time, p-please?” Stiles puts his face in Derek’s neck, his soft lips moving almost sluggishly against Derek’s throat, “I’ll be good, I swear.”

Derek grins then, and he grips onto Stiles’ hand - the one still resting against his upper thigh - tightly, “You’ll be good, huh?”

Stiles nods somewhat vigorously, “Mhm, just for you, Der.”

“Then come on, pretty boy. It’s time to make good on your offer.”

Stiles blinks for a moment, “R-Really? Just like that?”

“Just like that, Stiles,” he echoes with a smile, “I guess you could say that I’ve been having to hold myself back for some time now.”

The teen grins sloppily, “Oh, okay. L-Lead away, Der.”

The alpha greedily grabs a hold onto Stiles’ hand, and he nearly drags the drunken, stumbling teen into his tent. Still, no one in the pack has seemed to catch on to what is currently happening, and Derek couldn’t be more grateful for acquiring the naive teenagers that he did for this purpose alone.

Other than the fact that they’re easy to break and mold, of course. But that can also wait till later.

“Der,” Stiles murmurs, his palm sweaty against the werewolf’s, “Where’s your t-tent?”

“Here,” Derek answers, showing the drunk boy the camping set up in question, “Now get in.”

“Okay,” and Stiles gets inside without a word.

Derek slips in right after him, and as soon as Derek has the entryway to his tent zipped up and fixed, he’s on Stiles like he’s always wanted to be.

He doesn’t even start out kind or gentle, he just goes straight into it. He nips at Stiles’ lips hard enough to cause some blood to swell up on the boy’s flesh, but Stiles seems too into it with arousal or too out of it with alcohol to really notice or care. He’s moaning and making all sorts of colorful and wonderful noises against Derek, and the alpha is growling as he begins to work his cock to hardness.

“Gonna get you nice n’ ready for me, Stiles, just like I’ve always wanted,” the alpha groans out, unzipping the jeans confining him and stroking the flesh as he does so, “Gonna make you mine.”

Stiles nods, and he moans along, his eyes fluttering shut like Derek imagined him to do during so many countless fantasies, “Yes, Der, please.”

The alpha wastes no time, and he works his way down the pale column that is Stiles’ neck feverishly as his wolf begins to surface, “Gonna knot you, Stiles. Breed you. Fill you up.”

“Yes, Der,” the boy hisses, gripping onto Derek’s shoulders tightly as he rubs his crotch against Derek’s.

The nips soon turn into bites, and Stiles makes the most delicious noises as Derek’s teeth begin to break his flesh. Still, the boy must be too drunk off whiskey or high off endorphins to say anything about it, and Derek takes complete advantage of that. He sinks his teeth into the boy’s flesh without warning, causing the teen to buck up and cry in some amount of shock as Derek tries to unbutton his jeans.

“Mosquitoes are horrible here,” the boy mutters angrily, and it’s then that Derek realizes that Stiles must be utterly hammered if he isn’t aware of Derek’s claiming bite.

“You just happen to be so delicious, Stiles,” Derek murmurs, lapping up the crimson that’s slipping down the expanse of Stiles’ neck.

The boy hums, and he stretches back his throat for Derek to mouth at, “Need you, Der.”

The wolf in Derek’s mind is rejoicing now, and Derek purrs as he loosens Stiles’ jeans button and slides the denim off of him.

“I got you, Stiles,” Derek whispers darkly, his teeth - still reddened with Stiles’ blood - poking past his stretched lips, “From now on until forever. I got you.”

Stiles hums another drunken yes, and Derek chuckles as he begins to prep the boy. His fingers slide in and out of Stiles’ hole at a somewhat rough pace, and he knows by how Stiles is beginning to wince that it’s anything but gentle.

“Der, h-hurts.”

“I know, but that’s just because you’re a virgin. Well, that’s going to change soon enough, but the inexperience is still a huge factor.”

Stiles nods somewhat mindlessly, “Oh, okay... Didn’t know that.”

Derek ignores Stiles then, “How are you feeling?”

The wolf in Derek snaps to attention. After all, Derek gave Stiles a claiming bite. The symptoms of the transition should start up right about now.

“H-Hot,” the boy stutters, “Still horny.”

Derek mouths at the boy’s neck, “Anything else?”

“D-Don’t know,” Stiles mumbles, meeting Derek’s movements eagerly, his hole fluttering around Derek’s fingers, “Feel ... different.”

Derek is about to ask how when he feels slick begin to drip down his fingers, and he laughs a little.

“You have lube with you?” Stiles asks somewhat drowsily as Derek shrugs a response, “Oh cool, that’s- we’re gonna need that.”

Derek just keeps on fingering him.

It doesn’t take Stiles long, but soon enough, he’s stifling hot and panting against Derek, rolling his hips down on the alpha’s fingers greedily.

“W-Want more, Der,” the teen moans wantonly, “Need more.”

“And you’re gonna get it soon enough, but I gotta make sure you’re ready, Stiles,” Derek licks behind the boy’s ear, making him quiver, “We don’t want that perfect ass of yours to get too wrecked, now do we?”

“Don’t care, Der, just give it to me,” the boy begs.

Derek smiles, “Who knew that you’d be so desperate for this?”

“Wanted it for so long, Der. Thought about you fucking me since Scott and I saw you in the woods. Even jacked off that n-night while thinking ‘bout you.”

“Did you now?”

The teen hums a needy yes, “I thought about you when I f-fingered myself for the first time. Always used to fuck my fist. Always thought of Lydia. Always, until you came along.”

Derek hears the sped up but steady heartbeat thumping wildly from Stiles’ chest, telling the werewolf that he isn’t lying.

“I changed you for the better, didn’t I, Stiles?” Derek asks, taking a hand and placing it over the bite he left on the teen’s neck.

The boy nods as a wave of slick drips over the alpha’s fingers, “Yes, Der.”

The alpha purrs hungrily at the sight, and he kisses Stiles’ jawline as he slips his fingers out of him. Stiles whines unhappily at the loss, but keens when Derek pushes his erect member in instead.

“Oh, Der,” Stiles groans breathlessly, his hips jolting downwards on Derek’s cock almost naturally, “S-So big.”

“Only for you, Stiles,” Derek hisses into his ear, feeling the boy’s entrance pulse with hot want as he fucks roughly into it, “Been saving this for you since I met you.”

Stiles whines, and he bares his throat almost instinctively as his already sweetened scent begins to change, “W-Want it, Der. Need it.”

His bonding heat must be starting. The bite took.

“I know, Stiles,” Derek growls, his nails lengthening as he notices Stiles’ amber irises shifting into a gold, “and you’re all mine.”

Stiles nods feverishly, “All yours.”

Derek rocks faster into the teen, his hips snapping against the boy’s ass as he begins to knot him.

“W-What’s that?”

“My knot,” Derek grits out, “Just be a good boy and take it for me, yeah?”

Stiles moans as the knot begins to catch on his rim. His nails dig ever so delightfully into Derek’s back, his moans growing in desperation and volume.

“Shush, Stiles. We don’t want the pack to interrupt us, now do we?”

Stiles shakes his head, “N-No, Der.”

“Good. Now stay quiet, and I’ll make sure not to punish you, okay?”

A wave of slick gushes out in response, “Y-Yes, Der.”

Stiles presses his lips together in a fine line to obey, but every now and then, with Derek’s movements and his growing knot, a small keen or squeak will escape the boy. Derek loves it, and tries to get more of those little noises out of Stiles as he pushes his knot even deeper as it swells completely.

“F-Fuck,” Stiles stretches out, leaning away until his back is resting against the floor of Derek’s tent, his hips still elevated from where Derek’s locked firmly inside of him.

Derek's thrusts turn shallower, and with each one, Stiles moves forward slightly against the floor. He looks strung out, with his arms lying limply beside him - fingers almost as loose and lax as the rest of him when they grip onto the tent floor softly. Derek growls, and his eyes begin to bleed through at the sight of Stiles spread out below him.

“Such a good boy, Stiles.”

Stiles nods weakly, his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. Derek takes the chance to trail his hands over the boy’s sides as he breathes - feeling the pale and mottled flesh stretch along with his rib cage. He feels so delicate - so real - under Derek’s hands, and the alpha loves it.

“You look great like this,” he murmurs, still moving his hips languidly as he speaks, “I should take a picture and frame it and everything.”

Stiles just makes a noise - as if he’s too far gone and lost within sensation and the change to really answer with words.

There’s a snap of a twig outside, and Derek immediately straightens up and growls lowly. Stiles whines in response, baring his throat and stretching out even further to placate Derek. Whoever or whatever broke the twig rushes away, and Derek huffs angrily as he returns his focus to Stiles - smirking when he sees the boy’s stomach covered in come.

Derek coos proudly in response, and he pulls Stiles close after wiping him down, flipping himself over until he’s on his back and Stiles is against his chest.

“No matter what happens, Stiles, I’ve got you. From now on, you’re mine.”

Stiles must be exhausted, because he just nods haggardly and lets his head fall into the crook of Derek’s neck.

The alpha smiles darkly, because as always, Stiles just doesn’t understand.

An hour later, Derek is looking around to find whatever or whoever broke the twig.

He’s scenting the air, flaring his nostrils to try and catch a scent of anything. He can smell a rabbit, but it’s faint - probably hours to a day old - making him growl slightly. He was sure that someone had been outside of the tent...

Derek decides that the intruder - be it animal or person - has gone now, and that it’s time to head back to the tent. Besides, Stiles is there and is possibly still in heat, and now, Derek doesn’t have to hold himself back anymore now.

His fangs elongate as saliva fills his mouth, and Derek feels that clawing hunger build up in his torso again.

The alpha rushes back to the tent then, ready to claim Stiles - his mate, finally - once more.

What he comes upon is not all too good.

Stiles is huddling in the corner of the tent with Derek’s cell in hand, and his pale skin is even whiter than usual. He jolts in fear as Derek enters, and he holds out the pocket knife that Derek brought inside of his bag in defense.

“S-Stay away from me,” he hisses.

“Stiles-”

“No, there’s going to be none of that crap,” the boy grits out, “W-What is this, Derek? Why is this on your phone?”

Derek scowls, “What are you talking about, Stiles? Why were you on my phone?”

“I was trying to take selfies, but that’s beside the point. It’s this right here, Derek,” Stiles turns the cell enough to where Derek can see the image clearly enough, “Why is this on your phone?”

It’s an image of Jennifer Blake. It had been around the time where Derek had been “dating” the girl for informational purposes, and he had found out that Ms. Blake, Stiles’ teacher at the time, was going to go after him and Scott. While Derek didn’t care for the other boy, Stiles was obviously not an option for her. Derek took matters into his own hands, and had some of his own, violent fun.

He must’ve forgotten to delete the evidence of it.

“She planned on hurting you,” Derek murmurs after some moments pass, taking a small step foward, making Stiles flinch slightly, “so I hurt her before she could do anything.”

Stiles shakes his head, “B-But that doesn’t explain why you took photos, Derek.”

The alpha remains quiet, knowing to pick his battles quite carefully.

“Derek, answer me,” Stiles’ voice breaks a little, “If you don’t, I’m going to hurt you in self-defense.”

That makes Derek laugh, “Oh, Stiles. That’s not going to happen.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because you can’t hurt your mate.”

Stiles laughs himself, but it sounds hysterical and scared, “I’m not your mate, Derek.”

“You are, Stiles. I’m guessing that you don’t remember things, or at least, remember them correctly, but I bit you while we had sex.”

Stiles pales even further, “W-What?”

“I gave you a claiming bite, Stiles. I finally gave you one,” Derek steps forward, and he notices how Stiles shrinks in on himself with their new proximity, “I’ve waited so long to finally have you, and now here we are.”

“No, we aren’t, and we never will be,” Stiles hisses angrily, “I might have liked you before, but that kind of changed when I discovered your dark side.”

“It was going to come out eventually, Stiles,” Derek supplies calmly, still inching forwards as he speaks.

Stiles tears up then, “I don’t care, Derek. You step away for two seconds, and I find out that you’re some ... some monster...”

“We all have our dark sides,” Derek murmurs, knowing by the golden tint Stiles’ eyes are acquiring, that he’s having some effect on the boy, “Mine just happens to be a little darker than most.”

The boy looks like he’s about to strike with the knife, but Derek beats him to it. He slinks up to Stiles and kisses him outright, cupping the sides of his face as he does so. Stiles’ arm - the one holding the pocket knife - lowers and falls to his side. His mouth begins to move against Derek’s, and soon enough, Stiles drops the knife to take both of his hands and run his fingers through Derek’s hair.

Stiles pants against Derek when they part, and he’s shaking a little as he pulls the alpha closer.

“W-What did you do to me?”

“Changed you for the better, remember?” Derek murmurs, mouthing along Stiles’ jawline, “Made you mine.”

Stiles swallows roughly, and Derek chases the movement with his lips as Stiles’ hands slip lower until they rest along the alpha’s chest.

“I must be fucked up,” Stiles whispers, mostly to himself, “I- I still want you, even after what I found out...”

“It’s natural to still want your mate,” Derek nips at Stiles’ throat, the column of flesh twitching with the ministrations as Stiles fights against the need to bare it, “Besides, I’d never hurt you, Stiles. You’re my exception.”

“But what about Scott? What about Kira? Issac? Erica? Boyd? Lydia? Jackson?”

“Don’t worry about them, Stiles,” Derek moves his mouth until he's kissing against Stiles’ collarbone, “It’s all about us now.”

“But Derek-”

“If it’s any consolation, they’re now under you. As an alpha’s mate, you have power over them. You no longer have to be Scott’s sidekick.”

Stiles’ breath catches in his throat for a second as Derek licks along his clavicle, “I- I don’t?”

“No,” Derek smiles as he kisses the boy’s skin, “You and I, we can take care of this pack together. We can make our own pack, even, if we want.”

“Y-You mean- ? ...” Stiles trails off, eyes growing wide.

“Yes, Stiles.”

The teen snuggles closer into Derek, as if accepting his new and permanent fate, “O-Okay...”

Derek smiles and echoes, “Okay.”

Stiles passes out again soon afterwards.

The birds chirp sweetly, as if nothing had gone on that night. The sun is shining warmly, despite the tent covering them. Stiles is asleep in the bracket of Derek’s arms, his face buried into Derek’s neck still. He’s lax and loosely holding onto Derek’s wrist, as if to comfort himself as he slept.

Derek is content, for once. The hunger has subsided. The wolf is pleased.

But as the tent door rips open to a raging beta, Derek realizes that Scott, however, isn’t.