Have you ever been attacked by a plot bunny so hard that you had to write it even if you're working on too many things? Yeah, me, too :)
This is a quickie that I had to write. It could be seen as Slash or just really close friendship, I really don't care.
So, thanks for reading, I do not own what is not mine, and leave me a comment if you can.
See ya!
Derek had been sure Stiles was right behind him. He had sensed him, knew his smell better than his entire pack, yet he was not standing outside and the building was about to collapse. He hadn't even known the talkative teen wielded that much power, had actually sat through some of his training sessions with Deaton, and saw, firsthand, just how much practice he really needed. This was Lydia level power, but the red head was unconscious, wrapped up in Jackson's arms.
"Where's Stiles?" Derek asked, rounding on Scott, who was having difficulty breathing.
"I don't…" he drew in a deep breath, coughing. "He's not out here?"
"No, he's…" Derek's eyes flicked back to the building, and he thought he saw a flash of red, but before he could step forward, he heard a familiar shout and the building caved in. "Stiles!" Derek screamed trying to run forward, but someone grabbed him, stopping him mid-step.
"H-he's gone," he heard Erica choke out, very much aware of Boyd and Isaac trying to hold Scott back. "Derek, he's gone."
Stiles couldn't be gone. Derek refused to believe he was gone. Not hyperactive, talkative, so full of life Stiles. He had been right behind Derek, barely six steps behind him; he should have made it out of the building. He had promised Derek he was going to make it out of the building.
"Stiles," Derek whispered, going limp in Erica's arms, his vision blurring. Derek wanted to howl; no, he needed to howl, to cry, to beg God or whoever to bring Stiles back. Stiles needed to come back; needed to be alright. He couldn't take it if…
"Holy jeez," he heard a familiar voice say, followed by a round of coughing. "I was not," another cough, "expecting that." Derek turned, watching as Stiles limped towards them, holding his arm. "I think I did it wrong. Do you think I did it wrong?" he turned to the group, coughing again, furrowing his eyebrows. "What?"
"Y-you're alive," Derek breathed, feeling Erica let him go.
"Yeah," Stiles replied rolling his eyes. "I told you I was going… Hey!" Derek threw his arms around Stiles' neck, burying his face in his shoulder, taking in his scent. "Jeez, it was only a witch. It's not like I saved the world or anything," Stiles said jokingly, a little confused, but returned the Alpha's hug nonetheless.
"Don't scare me like that again," Derek said, breathing raggedly, looking up to meet Stiles' eyes.
The talkative teen must have seen something on the Alpha's face because his own softened and he softly said, "I won't, Sourwolf. I promise."
He couldn't keep that promise, Derek knew this, but it didn't mean the Alpha couldn't try his damndest to keep Stiles alive. He wasn't losing another person he loved; he couldn't lose another person he loved. He wouldn't survive.
Fin?
The ending is complete garbage, but whatever. It's out of my head and that's all that matter.